“Damn it. Why?” He shot up again, glaring at her.
If he approached her, if he touched her . . . Tremors racked her, part of her wishing he’d do it. Force her hand. “We bring out the worst in each other.”
Surprisingly, that mollified him somewhat. “I don’t know. I thought we brought out the best in each other while in the forest.”
“That was a mistake.”
“My favorite mistake, then.”
Goddess, if he kept saying things like that, she’d cave. Already her defenses were cracked. Really, what would one time hurt? Sure, she might fall for him even more than she already had. Sure, she might crave more from him. Sure, he might compare her to every girl he’d ever been with, and she would definitely come out lacking. Sure, this might be a scheme on his part to castigate her for using that pen against him. But she’d have an orgasm, so what did those things matter?
And what if . . . what if he truly desired her? What if he enjoyed being with her?
What if: the most dangerous words known to man.
“I just can’t,” she forced herself to say. Her voice cracked, just like her defenses. She had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “My answer is and will always be no. Find someone else.”
“You want me to sleep with another woman?” he gasped out, incredulous.
“Yes?” she replied, a question she’d meant as a statement.
“You won’t care?”
“No.” Her hands curled into fists as rage swam through her bloodstream. She’d destroy anyone he touched. Obliterate anyone he—What are you doing? Stop thinking like that! “I can give you a love potion for the woman if you think it’d help.” Idiot! What are you saying?
I thought I was supposed to push him—oh, never mind. Damage done.
Scowling, he jackknifed to his feet. “You want me to be with someone else, I’ll be with someone else. I don’t need a fucking love potion to do it, either. See you around, Glory.”
Glory watched him stride from her bedroom, heard the front door slam. Her shoulders sagged against the chair, and she covered her mouth with a shaky hand. What the hell had she just done?
Six
He’d made the boast to see another woman. Now he had to see it through. Shit, Falon thought. But if he had to prod Glory’s temper until she snapped and used that stupid pen, he’d do it. Do anything to have her in his arms again. What’s happened to me? He’d gone from hating her powers to craving them. He just flat-out refused to be ignored by her any longer.
“I’ll give you a love potion,” he mocked. He’d seen the jealousy flare in her gorgeous eyes when they’d talked about him dating another woman. Glory hadn’t wanted him to sleep with someone else; she just hadn’t wanted to admit she desired him for herself. So he’d make her do it. Because he had to get his hands on her breasts, had to rub himself between her legs. Had to have her taste in his mouth and her pleasure moans in his ears. Then he could hate her magic again. Then he would go back to being a rational male who didn’t need anyone in particular.
He massaged the back of his neck. Hopefully, if he worked this just right, he wouldn’t earn himself another year of impotence. Hopefully, Glory would write the two of them into a sensual scene, and he would be able to finally, blessedly seduce her.
Who would have guessed he’d be reduced to seducing a witch? Not him, definitely. Yet here he was, at home again and picking up the phone to dial an old lover who was still a friend.
When she answered, he said, “I need a favor. And before you say yes, you should know we’ll be dealing with a very powerful and somewhat insane witch.”
And then, when he hung up with Kayla, he called Hunter. His best friend answered, and he said, “Look, I need a favor, and you owe me, so don’t even think about saying no.”
“Hurry, up, Glor!”
“I’m hurrying, swear.” The moment Glory had sailed through the front door of their home, her sisters had rushed her into the shower. They’d thrown a tight black dress and lacy lingerie at her when she’d emerged.
Now she was in the process of fitting her body into the sheer clothing. She should use the pen to make herself slender again but didn’t want to waste the ink for some silly dinner.
Hunter was taking them to the Love Nest, a five-star restaurant that catered to the affairs of the heart. Gag. She’d rather vomit than go, but Godiva had batted those sweet hazel eyes at her, and she’d found herself agreeing.
Unfortunately, the shower had failed to wash away the trials of the day. Glory had spent six hours in town, hawking her love potions for a little extra spending money. A few times, she’d wondered what she would do if one of the women who’d purchased a vial of Number Nine used it on Falon. Then she’d thought, If he truly loves someone, no potion will sway his heart. Then she’d thought, If he doesn’t love anyone, he’s fair game. Which basically meant Falon was fair game.
The knowledge had settled uneasily inside her, made her twitchy. She’d always considered her powers a blessing. For her, for others. Perhaps Falon was right, though. Perhaps she was a danger to everyone around her. But it wasn’t like she could forsake her powers. They were a part of her.
“We’re going to be late,” Evie said, drawing her from her musings.
“So? I think the restaurant will survive.”
“So Hunter is a vampire and only has a limited amount of time to play. Hurry.”
Glory sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe I should stay home. I’m in a terrible mood. Besides, I should be working. I have a book due in a few months, and I haven’t written a word.”
Now Evie batted hazel eyes at her. “You can put it off for another night. Please. For me.”
She had no willpower when it came to pleasing her sisters. “Fine. I’ll go. What are we celebrating, anyway?”
“The anniversary of the first time Hunter said he loved me.”
Trying not to grimace, Glory spun and faced her sister. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
Clueless, Evie shook her dark head. “No.”
The two lovebirds celebrated everything! The anniversary of the first time they had laid eyes on each other. The anniversary of the first time they had made love. The anniversary of Hunter’s change from human to vampire. It was truly sickening. “Isn’t that something the two of you should celebrate alone?”
“We will.” Evie’s lips curled slowly, suggestively. “Later.”
Godiva peeked her pale head around the door. “Ready, sister dear? Oh, my.” Her body rounded the rest of the corner, and then she was walking forward, expression warm. “You look gorgeous.”
There wasn’t a single malicious cell in her oldest sister. The woman was pure gentleness and had always been that way. “I feel silly,” she admitted. She faced the full-length mirror.
The black dress flowed gracefully over her hips, gossamer, like a butterfly’s wing. But with her arms stretched down at her sides, the hem did not even reach her fingertips. Thin straps held the material in place on her shoulders. A beaded empire waist cinched everything in just under her breasts, before flaring and floating free.
Overall, the dress was a naughty version of a Grecian toga. On her feet, she wore strappy black sandals. Her toenails were painted a vivid shade of emerald.
“You’ve always been the most beautiful of us,” Godiva said.
“Hey.” Evie frowned at their oldest sister. “I’m standing right here. What am I, dog food?”
Godiva waved a hand in dismissal. “You’ve always been the firecracker.”