“That’s hardly relevant to the conversation.”
“Maybe not, but it’s only fair. If you tell me, I’ll tell you.”
“So you’re finally admitting that you’re more than a witch?”
“I never said that. I simply said that if I’m going to share, then you are too.”
“You seem to be forgetting that I’m not the one in the vulnerable position. I’m holding all of the cards.”
“Even so, that doesn’t mean I’m saying shit.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up, and mirth danced in his eyes. “So stubborn.”
“Perhaps. So, what do you say? You’ll tell me, and then I’ll tell you. Deal?”
“Are you trying to bargain?”
“No, I’m merely compromising. It’s what all sane, normal supernaturals do who don’t try to push their weight around and instead work to achieve a middle ground. It’s really quite a reasonable way to live and it’s good for business. You should try it sometime, like right now. What are you?”
He watched me for a moment, that slightly amused expression still in place. Finally, he said, “I’m a werewolf.”
I sighed. “As I’m aware, but what else are you?”
The flames in his eyes grew. I didn’t think he was even conscious of it. “And part demon.”
My eyes widened. Well, that explained the fiery wolf. “Your father’s a demon and your mom’s a werewolf?” Since female werewolves couldn’t shift and only carried the gene, their sons weren’t usually strong wolves, but I supposed there could be exceptions ’cause the Fire Wolf was hella strong.
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “It’s the other way around.”
My lips parted in surprise, before I said, “Your father is the werewolf, and your . . . mother . . . is the demon?”
He nodded.
The bartender’s words came back to me. “Let’s just say his mother’s genetics had a big impact on him.”
“But—” I shook my head. I’d never heard of such a thing. A female demon carrying a mixed-blood child to term, birthing it, and not killing it? And how the hell did his father and mother meet?
Granted, I didn’t know much about female demons, but what I did know was that they almost never left the underworld, not to mention that female demons were rare. Almost all demons were male—so how did his parents . . . you know.
He was watching me, his expression completely blank.
“How?” I said simply.
He shrugged, and even though I wanted to know, I could tell that when it came to his parents, he didn’t want to talk about it. Ugh. Even though I was dying to unravel his secrets, I didn’t push.
“But you can also weave magic like a sorcerer?”
He didn’t reply.
“What else are you?” I asked quietly. “Do you also have—”
In a flash, he was on top of me and had me pinned to the mattress.
My breath sucked in. The movement was so quick and so violent yet also quite . . . intimate.
The Fire Wolf hovered above me, heat rolling off him. Flames leapt to life in his irises and that fire made complete sense now. It was demon born.
His body rubbed against mine, the feeling entirely delicious despite the way he’d just manhandled me.
“My turn,” he growled. “I just revealed to you more than I do to most, so you’re telling me something now. What are you?”
“A witch.”
A low warning growl rumbled in his chest, and he sank lower onto me, pushing me farther into the mattress. My thighs parted, because of his weight, or perhaps because of how much I loved the feeling of him on top of me, I didn’t know which.
“I’m not lying,” I said breathlessly. “I’m a witch, but I just happen to be a particularly strong one.”
His brow furrowed. “Then why is your scent that of a less than average witch?”
“I cloak it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“To hide how strong it is.”
The interest on his face grew. “How strong is your scent?”
I licked my lips and called upon my magic, half expecting it to go on the fritz again. But when I beckoned it forth, it responded, swirling and rolling through my veins like a surging ocean current. For the first time, my mind spun and connected the dots. The only occasions my magic hadn’t worked recently, and I’d had that weird pulling sensation of others’ magic hitting me and filling me, had been in the heat of the moment when I’d been on the offense. Each time it had happened, I’d been stressed out, anxious, or battling.
But now, as I called up my magic to deactivate my cloaking spell, I wasn’t running. No, I wasn’t running at all. In fact, I was doing the opposite. With the Fire Wolf on top of me, pinning me to his bed, there was no place I would rather be.
My magic burned inside me, waiting for me to use it. I whispered the deactivation spell, and the weight of the thick cloaking power that always covered me fell off. I breathed a sigh of bliss since it felt as if I were shedding a heavy shroud. My chest felt lighter, my magic more vibrant, and a smile streaked across my face at the feel of being free.
I was so used to hiding who I was, not even releasing myself from my facade in the privacy of my own home, that I’d forgotten how incredibly caging the cloaking spell felt.
When the remnants of my spell withered away, my magic surged forth, filling my veins and encapsulating my essence.
The Fire Wolf’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening. “Fucking hell.” He inhaled, then lowered his head inch by inch.
Before I could process what he was doing, his face was flush against my neck, as he inhaled deeply just below my ear.
His nose brushed against me, his lips like a light feather grazing my skin. The feel of him so close made my chest tighten.
He locked a hand onto my hip, holding me in place as our chests brushed, mine softer against his made of steel.
He moved up and down my neck, inhaling over and over, as if unable to get enough of my scent. A low rumble, almost possessive sounding, vibrated in his throat, and his hips tilted, pressing into my most intimate area, and fuck me, if I didn’t want to open to him right then and there.
For the briefest moment, his lips pressed to my skin, right above my collarbone, and then his tongue darted out to taste me.
My neck arched, a soft moan working up my throat.
His hand tightened on my hip again and I felt him lengthen in his pants. His hard rod pushed against my core. I was two seconds away from wrapping my legs around him when he abruptly pulled back and leaped from the bed.
The absence of his weight and warmth made me want to whimper. My body ached and burned for him, the urge to touch him, smell him, kiss him, fuck him, nearly making me do the unthinkable.
Because my sister was still missing, and that was where my concentration should lay. I shouldn’t even be contemplating a scorching affair with the Fire Wolf.
Balling my hands into fists, I slowly sat up, vaguely aware that my shirt had ridden up again.
The hunter stood near the kitchen, at least a dozen feet away. He raked a hand through his hair, and then again and again.
He began to pace, his gaze flickering my way on occasion, but he never looked me directly in the eye.
I watched as his shoulders rose and fell, his entire body tensed like a taut string.
A minute of strained silence passed between us, and then he growled, “Cloak yourself again. Your scent is—” He attacked his hair once more. “Just cloak yourself so it’s not so strong.”