Chapter 25

25

Leah's gaze wandered across Gabriel's breakfast bar. An array of ingredients, some she recognized, some she didn't, in glass jars, pots, paper packages, lay strewn across the counter. She fought not to let her disappointment show. "We're cooking?"

Across the room, Louie sniffed the new amethyst throw blanket she'd bought to bring some color to Gabriel's apartment before turning around three and a half times and plopping onto it. Rosie was glued to Gabriel's leg as he attempted to work the Alexa he bought.

Leah hid a smile. "You need some help?"

"No." He fiddled with it and then a blue light lit up the device. He sent her a smug look. "Alexa, play music."

"She'll need more direction than that."

"Alexa, play jazz music."

"You like jazz?"

"I live in New Orleans. You develop an appreciation."

"But it doesn't have rules or structure." Leah pressed a hand to her cheek in mock horror. "They just follow their hearts and instincts."

He ignored her, stroking a hand down Rosie, then Delilah as she bustled over like a mini dictator, pushing in. When he rose, the sultry sounds of sax mixed with the upbeat percussion.

He'd dressed down, as he often did now, in jeans and a soft shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. A tickle in her belly warmed her as she leaned her hip against the breakfast bar, watching him walk toward her.

"What?" he asked, catching her drooling stare.

"You're cute."

The look he shot her questioned her sanity. "How do you like your surprise?"

"I mean," Leah said, glancing down, once again reaching for enthusiasm. "It's great. I like cooking."

"We're not cooking." He scoffed at the idea. "Although I can toast with the best of them now."

"Then what...?"

He waved a hand over a bare section of the counter. Air shimmered, forming to a dark green leather-bound book. In gold lettering, the title read: Potions for Beginners.

Leah shot out a hand, dug into his arm. "Potions?"

He nodded. "I'm going to teach you one."

"A potion ?" Excitement throttled her heartbeat up to a near-dazzling speed. She threw herself at him, wrapping both arms around his waist and squeezing python-hard.

He'd barely returned the gesture when she moved back. "Hang on, I thought you wanted to keep everything...you know. On the DL."

Blank.

"The down-low," she elaborated. "Hush-hush. Quiet."

"A little late for that." Irony ran through the words as he turned to the book. "I'm not suggesting you shout about it, but I thought you'd enjoy learning an easy one."

"They never work." She fought the urge to pout. "I've tried before with Emma and Tia."

"Even when they added their magic to it?"

She frowned. "Added their...?" Her teeth clicked together as realization struck. Babied again, not trusted.

"I'm assuming they didn't." His hand slid onto her hip, supportive. "You'll have no problem with this, not with me lending a spark of power. And...I want to give you a piece of my world."

Ridiculously she felt like bawling. "This magic—it's not going to hurt you, right? Because if it is, I don't want to do it." She cast a longing glance at the book, then away.

"I'll be fine," he assured her, convincing enough to make her reservations drop.

"Gabriel. This is..." She trailed off, blown away by the gesture. Swept up by emotion, she went up on tiptoe and snagged his shirt to bring him down for a short kiss. "Thank you."

God, how was she going to let him go?

Because she had to. But for now, he was here and there was a potion.

Another woman might have played it cool. Leah danced in place and clapped her hands like an infant. "This. Is. Awesome. Where do we start? Is it safe? What is the potion for?"

Apparently it was for levitation. A dash of this powder, a dollop of purple gel, a few herbs and other assorted ingredients all went into a cast-iron pot he had out on the stove. He cracked a smile when she asked about cauldrons.

She listened to him as carefully as any student, insisting she measure and add and stir on her own.

Finally, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and produced an iridescent green spark that floated in the air until he batted it to the pot below. "It has to simmer now. When it turns midnight blue, it's ready."

Leah peered in at the bubbling purple liquid. "Looks kind of like a Witch's Heart. Cocktail," she explained with a laugh at his expression. Turning her attention back to the pot, she jigged. "This is so fun. How long will it take?"

"Potion-making is an art as well as a science." Gabriel glanced at the clock on the oven. "An hour or two."

"That long?" She watched the bubbles pop. "I can't believe Emma and Tia never explained they had to add magic."

"Most likely they were trying to keep you safe."

"I know. Still, they could trust me."

"They told you about us," he pointed out, leaning back against the counter. "That carries a huge risk."

"I know," she repeated, angling her head back to look him in the face. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything."

He considered her in his aloof Gabriel way. "Have they told you the consequences if you're ever discovered?"

"Not really. I know I'd get brought before the High Family—like, your version of a royal family?" At his nod, she continued, "But other than that, details are a little hazy. Memory wipe, most likely—which, can I just say, not cool."

"Witches aren't known for ethics."

"Apparently."

"Did they discuss what would happen to them?"

The question made her still. She stared at him. "What do you mean happen to them ?"

"If they were unmasked as the ones who told you without seeking permission, they could also face severe penalties."

Chilled at the sound of those two words, she wrapped her arms around her waist. "Like what?"

"In truth, it's been that long since the rules have been broken that it's mostly rumor."

He was avoiding the question. Not a good sign. "They didn't tell me." She thought of how often she'd pushed to know more, not even considering that she might be putting her friends in danger, and dropped her arms. "Shit. I'm such an idiot. And so are they for not telling me. I know, probably trying to protect me. Still, they should've said something."

"When you want to protect someone, sometimes that trumps what you ‘should' do." Experience rang through the wry words.

Leah shook her head, still jittery. "It's stuff like this that makes me feel so out of touch. I'm an adult; I deserved to know all the facts, right?"

He stayed silent, but the fact that he'd drawn her attention to it was its own point.

She tapped her fingers against her hips. "You think I should focus on the fact that they told me in the first place, don't you?"

"Why did they?"

The memory brought a rueful smile. "Emma got drunk."

Shock splashed over his face.

She had to laugh. "It's why she's so OTT about me slipping up, because she feels responsible—and it's also why she can outdrink anyone now, because she swore it wasn't going to happen again. It was like a year after we met, a few months after she'd introduced me to Tia, and I was hosting a girl's night. Nothing fancy. And Emma pounded too much gin. Next thing I knew, she was claiming to be able to make magical cosmos and cooing to my plants."

"And Tia?"

Leah tilted her head thoughtfully. "She could've intervened. But all she did was sit there with a smile on her face. Apparently, she had a ‘premonition' that I could be trusted. It's why she let me in so quickly, why we all gelled as a unit enough to open the bar when I suggested it."

"Tia has premonitions?"

Leah knew precious little about it except that it wasn't Tia's primary power, but that she sometimes got strong feelings, emotions, about people, places. She nodded. "Sometimes, at least. Anyway, it shocked the hell out of me when I saw a glass float to Emma—and that was it. I was obsessed."

His eyes followed the lines of her face, absorbing it. "Why?"

It made her blink. "Why? Because...it's magic. It's telekinesis and conjuring and spells. Fun."

"Fun," he said, as though tasting the word.

"Or it should be. But I guess...it's not for you?"

"Being a witch is about society, bloodlines, reputation. Not fun."

"You've never enjoyed having magic?"

He blinked. "I've never thought about it." His serious expression didn't change as he asked, "Would you want magic?"

"Uh... yeah ."

"Even if it came tangled with my world?" he pushed.

She almost said yes out of habit, having longed for that for so many years. But something caught the word before it left. Hers had always been a child's answer, one without thinking through the consequences. Now...

"I don't know," she said after a minute, the truth quiet. It made his eyes darken. "Part of me says yes," she admitted, looking at the potion that simmered. "Your world...glitters. But the idea of watching my back for a knife at all times, being careful what I say, who I say it to, constantly fearing rejection or being cast out..." She spread her hands. And as she'd already thought, she'd deliberately turned away from a similar world once.

His response hung on a timeless second before he nodded, short, sharp. As if he had no feeling one way or the other. "Understandable. It's a game, but we don't play. It's not fun."

"No."

The mood had darkened, twisting his offer of a piece of his world to her rejecting it. She hated that.

She brought the topic back to her friends with some effort. "I don't regret that they told me. Or...anything else." You , she thought, fingers curling into her palms. Not brave enough to say it aloud.

"It's the greatest show of trust they could ever give." Gabriel inclined his head. "We, none of us, trust easily."

She read between the lines and swore she heard her own heart crack in two. But that was to think about later. For now, she wanted to give something back to Gabriel. For the warlock who never played for fun. "You're right."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're right."

"One more time?"

She poked him, smiling. "I said, you're right, Goodnight. They trusted me enough to let me in the door." She tilted her head back, basked in his gaze. "And so did you."

The music had shifted to something bluesy, an outpouring of soul that shivered through her blood. Just as he did.

Her smile turned sly. "The question is, how much do you trust me?"

The snap of lust in his blood was tempered by wariness. Leah's face spelled nothing but trouble.

"Why?" Gabriel asked, standing perfectly still.

She toyed with one of his buttons, quirking a brow. "Why don't we play pretend?"

His mind flashed back to the first time she'd said those words, the night that had followed. "Pretend?"

"Mmm." Her eyes were so blue, they could lure a man in, under. "How about I'm the all-powerful witch and you're the powerless human?"

"You have never been powerless."

Her hand paused for a second before it slipped his button free. "Very smooth."

"Truth," he countered, watching her undo his buttons and spread open his shirt. "I don't think you know what you do to me, Leah." What she created inside him, more than just desire. More than just affection, concern. If she didn't, perhaps her rejection wouldn't have cut so deeply. But he shied away from that. Because this was temporary anyway. No point in examining feelings that had nowhere to go.

For a moment, her gaze connected with his and an acknowledgment ran between them. The sharp ache, the sweet torment of now. Only now.

Then she smiled, as only Leah could. "Wait until you see what I'm about to do to you."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Depends on if you're willing to play."

He allowed her to slide the shirt off, pulse thrumming as her fingers skimmed bare skin. "What does the powerless human have to do?"

"It's simple." She pressed her mouth against his chest. Her tongue flicked out, made his breath catch. "You have to let me have my way with you. My way. My rules."

He was always the one giving the pleasure before taking his own. It was easier to stay removed.

But this was Leah.

The hint of anxiety after he nodded was soothed by her bright smile. She tangled their fingers together as she led him toward his bedroom.

"No," she said, command vibrating in her tone, and he turned his head to see Rosie skitter to a halt, her body drooping in denial. Delilah huffed and yipped, cantering forward despite the order.

Gabriel conjured three bones, one directly in the dachshund's path. The way the little dog's eyes bugged out was worth the ache that vibrated through him, clanging in his temples.

Leah's laugh floated around him as she walked them into his bedroom. Then his back was against the closed door and her mouth was fixed greedily on his.

His hands clamped on her hips and she broke free.

"First rule," she said breathlessly. "Hands off."

Like she'd spoken in Cantonese and he'd forgotten a translation spell, he blinked at her owlishly.

"I'm all-powerful, remember?" She backed away, perched on his bed. She sat there, dressed in black jeans and a navy sweater covered in dog hair, curls wild. She might as well have been in sheer lingerie.

As he stood, helpless against her, she leaned back on one elbow. "Strip."

"Sorry?"

"Strip." Laughter sparkled in her eyes. "And make it good."

"I've never told you to strip."

"When it's your game, you make the rules." Her sweater slipped down, exposing her tattoo and a lacy black bra strap. "Strip, warlock boy."

He threw her a haughty look, but his hands went to his belt. "I'm not dancing."

"What if I gave you something to work with?" She sat up, cupped her hands around her mouth and made what he presumed she thought were beatboxing noises.

He couldn't prevent the smile as he pulled the belt free. "This is an excellent seduction."

She stopped, beamed. "Thanks. But it's not a seduction, remember? I have you at my mercy."

Yes, she did.

When he shucked his jeans and stood there in only black boxer briefs, Leah's smile faded, and she swept her tongue over her bottom lip. Heat rolled over him as he started toward her.

Her hand flew up like a traffic cop. "Uh-uh. My game."

"I just want to touch you."

"My rules," she insisted, stubbornly, then scooted off the bed. "Where do you keep your ties?"

Surprise had him gesturing at the closet before he thought better. She laughed at his circular tie rack, though what there was to laugh about, he had no clue. She selected two, a pinstripe and a solid black.

"On the bed."

Eyeing the ties, he did as ordered, moving to the head when she gestured.

"Arms out."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

Warily, he spread his arms. When she began to wrap the pinstripe around the slats of the headboard and then around his wrist, the question slipped out. "What are you doing?"

"Tying you to the bed."

"I see. And the reason for this is?"

She knotted the tie, tugged. Nodded before clambering over him to mirror the action with his other wrist and the black tie. "To immerse you in your role." She pointed. "Powerless human."

"But I don't technically need my hands." Although telekinesis wasn't his specialty, he stroked a fine line down her neck and saw her shiver. Clamped down on the vicious ache that gripped his neck.

Blue eyes cut to his. "No. It causes you pain. I don't ever want to cause you pain."

Something hard lodged in his chest. Because he knew, despite her best efforts, she would.

"Besides," she added with a nod of satisfaction at her other knot. "Hands off was the rule, in every sense. And you're a rule follower, aren't you?"

"I'm beginning to feel I shouldn't have agreed to this." He tested the restraints. They weren't incredibly tight but were tighter than he'd expected.

She knelt next to him. "We can stop."

He studied the ties, then her face. "I trust you."

Everything about her softened. She shifted to swing a leg over his waist. The rough fabric of her jeans abraded his belly as she planted her hands on his chest. "You ready to lose control?"

"Do you think you can make me?"

Challenge gleamed in her face. "Take it like a human, Gabe." And so saying, she kissed him.

It was a study in sin, a deep caress of tongue, the perfect pressure of lips, the nip of teeth. He sank into it, into her, desperate for more, for what he could get. He wanted to absorb this memory, hide it away to always remember.

She broke away when his chest was heaving, her own breathing unsteady. She dragged her mouth down his throat and beyond. She left no part of his chest untouched, her lips and tongue and teeth tracing every square inch until his breath was short and sharp and he throbbed everywhere. When she settled over him, he ground his teeth, pleasure a sharp arc.

"Please," he ground out. "I want you naked."

"Compromise." Her voice was raw, as affected as him. She pulled off her sweater, tossing it behind her. She was left in a black lacy bra, black jeans and sky-blue nails that she scored lightly down his belly, heading for his underwear.

He couldn't help the bump of his hips, even as he said through his teeth, "Leah, you don't..."

She hushed him, sliding her hands into his underwear, pushing them down his thighs, his shins, off. She moved back up, smoothing hands that were soft but intent up his legs, making him shudder. When she gripped him, his spine arched and a muffled groan flew from his mouth.

She didn't let him have a respite, one hand firm at the base. Every inch of him was alive as he watched her mouth near his cock.

"Leah," he said again in a near-moan. "You don't have to—"

Her tongue darted out, licked the drop of pre-come off. His hips arched and his eyes slammed shut. Every breath was an effort as she teased him, her tongue working him like she knew every secret fantasy, every hidden desire. Any thought of resisting so he could stay in control fled. All his thoughts were of her, her and her hot, talented mouth.

When she took him in, he heard something smash into the wall, but neither stopped. The bed shook under them as his magic leaked out, sending a fine shiver of pain into the pleasure as she worked him, her hand below what her mouth could manage.

Pleasure was a fever inside him and he braced, his hands straining at the bonds to grip her, hold her, work her in return. Black spots danced with the green sparks and he shouted as she firmed her hold, as she sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed. And then he was there, his whole body shaking as he shot into the stratosphere, touched the stars before slamming back into his boneless body.

Sweat glistened over him as she sat back. Her nipples strained against her thin bra and her skin was sheened, body trembling. Aroused even as she slid a hand over her own stomach. He couldn't not watch as her head fell back.

"Gabe," she moaned.

"Release me." It was half command, half plea.

"Yes."

Before she could move, he'd snapped a word that undid any bindings. The crack of pain barely registered.

He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, tasting both of them as he ran his hands over her breasts. She pushed into his hands, undulating. Desperate. He'd bet she was dripping and groaned at the image.

He nudged her to stand next to the bed, unsnapped her jeans himself. The zipper tugged down to reveal white lacy underwear, and why the sight of mismatched underwear excited him, he didn't really care. All he knew was he needed to get inside them.

She moaned as his fingers trailed over her, pushing inside the panties to cup her. He'd bet right; she was soaked. Pleasure caught him in its teeth, in its demand that he make her crave him like he did her.

"Take them off."

Their pretense was done and she complied, kicking them off and getting rid of her bra. Whether he reached for her or she dove onto him wasn't clear, but he rolled so she was underneath, sucking in a breath at the feel of her body against his.

He slid his hand back down, lazily playing with her as he grazed his teeth over her nipple. Dark satisfaction rolled over him as she called his name, as he used his tongue to bring the nipple to an even stiffer peak. Then he moved to the other, still languid with her even as she moaned, writhed, pleaded for him to go faster, press harder against that small bundle of nerves.

Only when her breaths were sobbing did he give in and slip a finger, then two, inside, hooking them so they grazed the right spot. He used his thumb to circle her clit as he moved his fingers in a rhythm designed to drive her wild, teasing, squeezing lightly. When he added a third finger, stretching her, her hands fisted the sheets and she arched her upper body off the bed.

"Goddess," he dragged out, unable to help quickening the rhythm, lost to her. "I love watching you like this." For his eyes only. Primal, he shoved her over with a few quick gestures. Her cries echoed in the room as her body stiffened, quivered. Beautiful.

He didn't give her time to recover, leaving only for the time it took him to grab a condom, roll it on. Then he was on her, thrusting home while she was still quaking. He felt the fine edge of her orgasm dance through him. And lost his mind.

He didn't think to control the pace, didn't stop to consider whether he could. His hips drew back, slammed in. Pleasure fired up his spine, white-hot and blinding him to anything but her.

He caught her lips in a rough kiss as he set an almost savage rhythm. Her legs wrapped around his hips, meeting him, challenging him as their mouths clashed. This was war, a battle for something neither knew. Her fingernails dug into his skin, his teeth nipped her. The air was saturated with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her short cries, his harsh breathing.

Pain mingled with the pleasure once again, heightening it, as magic leaked from him. He forced his eyes open and met glazed, pleasure-drunk blue.

When she threw her head back on a silent scream, rippling around him, he heard himself snarl, his hips increasing, hitting hard and fast and making her clutch at him in ecstasy. He couldn't catch his breath, didn't want to, as he watched her through narrowed eyes until he finally broke. Pleasure ripped them both apart, leaving them a shattered mess.

And as he gasped for air, sweat slicking both of them, as her nails released his skin and she sank into the mattress, the bed dropped the foot it had been levitating. The wood trembled, cracked, fell in, the mattress slamming to the floor.

Leah's startled yelp faded as Gabriel lifted his head and stared at the wreckage.

Before he even knew what to say, Leah's shoulders began to shake and she hooted with laughter.

Embarrassment at his loss of control faded at the sight of her, sated, sexy and so damned happy. And as an echo of the same ran through him, he gave in and laughed with her.