Witch Hunter

She frowned as she crossed to the sink—putting even more distance between them. “That’s quite a stretch. Maybe I’m just a sucker for a bad boy.”

His lips quirked. As tempting as the suggestion was, he doubted it. He edged a little closer, and put his own mug in the sink, managing to hem her in at the same time. Sully paused, her gaze on the mug he still clasped. “Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong, Sully,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward. “I can be very, very good.”

Sully lifted her gaze from the large hand that made her mug look like a kid’s tea party toy, up the corded forearm, over the bulging bicep, the edge of the dark tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his fresh black T-shirt, and across the broad shoulder and torso to the strong column of his throat. She swallowed, hesitating, before lifting it farther. The man had a great jaw. Strong, defined, with just the right dusting of hair that made you want to reach and stroke it. Was he—was the Witch Hunter flirting with her? His lips curled up at one end, a sexy little smile that made heat bloom tight and low in her stomach. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, couldn’t see whether he was flirting, teasing, or just making an observation. And she desperately wanted to see his eyes.

The fact that she couldn’t was frustrating, and just a little unnerving. She could relax her shields, get a sense of what he was feeling, but that method was fraught with risks. Risks she’d learned long ago weren’t worth it, and she should have the sense to know better.

She stepped back, clearing her throat. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she said softly.

He tilted his head, and she tried to keep her expression impassive. Aloof. That’s what she was going for, here. Distant. Cool. He was the Witch Hunter, tracking down a murderous wi—she frowned.

“I want to help,” she blurted.

His eyebrows rose over his sunglasses. “What?”

“There is a witch out there murdering in my name. I want to help you catch him. Her. Whatever.”

He shook his head, backing up a little. “Sorry, sweetness. No can do.”

Funny. He didn’t sound apologetic at all. She put her hands on her hips. “I insist. You said Mack’s Gym. That’s local. You’ll need someone with local knowledge to help you. I can do that.”

He shook his head. “I work alone.”

“And look where it got you,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Hey, that was an honest mistake,” he said in faint protest.

“One that you should avoid making again,” she said primly. “Let me help.”

“Not happening.”

She stepped closer. “Someone is using my name—”

“It could be just as much his as it is yours,” he pointed out.

“I can tell you now, there is no other person in the county with my name,” she informed him. “But this person even has the Ancestors confused,” she told him, her tone serious.

This time Dave stepped closer toward her, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze through his sunglasses. “The term is Witch Hunter—not hunters,” he told her roughly. “We don’t buddy up on a job. This is something I’ve got to do on my own, Sully. You haven’t seen what this person is capable of. I have. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“But this is my name, Dave,” she protested.

“And I will get him,” he assured her, “and you will stay far away from this matter, and be safe.”

She opened her mouth to protest further, then halted when he stepped closer and cupped her cheek. Sensation. Heat. Desire. Protectiveness. Everything bombarded her, leaving her trying to catch her balance. Her shields. It was like he could pierce her shields with just a touch, invading both her personal and mental spaces. She tried to shore them up, but no matter how many times she tried erecting them, his presence kept swamping her.

“I owe you one, Sully,” he told her seriously, his voice low. “What I did, I have to make it up to you. I’m granting you a favor.”

A flare of forthrightness, a heavy dose of resolve, washed over her. “A favor,” she repeated.

He nodded. “I happen to take debts very seriously. I owe you.”

Well, she didn’t think he owed her anything, but if this was important to him, she wasn’t above using it. Warm promise. Integrity.

“Great. Let me—”

He placed a finger on her lips, and again, sensations rolled through her, her senses awakening to him, overriding her personal shields. She could feel his determination, his dedication—and his resistance. And something else. Something... Oh. Desire. She trembled, feeling a reciprocal flare of attraction.

“I have to find this witch,” he murmured, “and I will not endanger you. This favor I grant you is for your use, at a time of your choosing, but I will never let you use it to put yourself in danger. Do you understand?”

His voice was so deep, so low. His expression was grim, intent. She stared up at his sunglasses, stunned by the sincerity, the commitment behind his words. “Uh, yes.” She whispered the words against his finger.

“You need anything, you call for me.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’ll come for you. This is my promise to you.” He said the words like a vow, conveying a determination that was...well, knee-weakening.

He dipped his head once in acknowledgment. His finger trailed across her lips. It was as though every cell in her body awakened and paused in anticipation. He brushed his finger first over her top lip, then across the bottom, pressing it down gently. Her mouth parted, and he lowered his head, removing his finger as his lips pressed against hers.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.