Stolen, page 8
part #4 of Coven of the Raven Series
He didn’t knock. Didn’t get a chance to.
The hissing of cats became a growl then bullets popped through his front door and burst his sofa like it was an overripe banana being dropped from the roof.
He opened her door and slipped in shutting it just as fast. The attackers were going to be in his place in under thirty seconds, finishing the job. “Get some shoes on, were moving now.”
“Huh?” She sat up, short hair standing on end.
A smash just outside. There went his lock. Since they’d found him, they were using a witch to track him. Bright probably had a witch on the payroll. Big players often did; anything for an edge. Though how the witch made peace with the deity they channeled power through, Sawyer didn’t know.
Adrenaline flooded his body and he grinned. He did enjoy it when things got interesting, as long as he was making the fun. He opened the bedroom window. “Get out on the fire escape, shut your eyes, and cover your ears.”
She got shoes on and slung her backpack over her shoulder, obeying without question now she was up. He crouched next to the wall—standing in front of the door was an invitation for bullets. He selected the brown marker, activated the flash bang spell, and gave it a five second count down before shoving it under the door. He ran for the window and was out, orange marker in hand, before his apartment erupted with its own mini storm event. Light streamed out the windows for several seconds and thunder shook the walls.
He grinned at Cosima. “He’ll have people watching the exits. So, we’re going up. It’s a couple of blocks to the coven. Easy run.” He’d done it before to test out the spell, but he’d never done it with someone.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night?”
“All the cool kids are doing it.” He wasn’t about to share every trick with her. “Ready?”
“No.”
“You can stay here, get shot, and then dragged back so Bright can finish you off slowly.” A failed thief could tell too many tales. To a man like Bright, Cosima was a liability even though she had no magic.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go, just that I wasn’t ready for whatever shit you’re about to pull.”
“Just hold my hand and don’t let go or look down. Trust me?”
“No.” But her fingers closed around his offered hand.
Several shots were fired inside his apartment as the invaders recovered and attempted to finish the job.
“Great.” He gripped her hand tight and the marker with the other and then sprung up onto the roof. They only just made it, tripping over the edge and stumbling. “You’re going to have to put some spring in your step. Think up and over.”
“Next time maybe share that we’re going to be bounding up the side of a building.”
“Okay. Point taken. We’re roof hopping to the coven. Let’s go before they realize we aren’t inside, and they start looking.” They had to get inside the coven to be protected. But if they’d gotten into his apartment, how safe was the coven going to be?
Bounding over roofs.
In the dark.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, or undies.
And there were people in his apartment—the apartment that was supposed to be safe—wanting to kill her. She’d screwed up jobs before, but nothing had ever gone past a few phone calls, a second attempt at the object, or some other arrangement. But then she had never failed at a job quite so spectacularly or for someone so desperate to get his hands on something. The Mordred Blade was something special.
Sawyer glanced at her, his eyes hidden. “Push off hard and pretend like we’re running.”
“You’ve done this with someone?”
“No. So pretend you’re a flea.”
“A flea?”
“They can jump really well. Let’s go.” He squeezed her hand, didn’t give her a chance to panic, then let go. They were running and then jumping over the street below. She wanted to close her eyes but that wouldn’t help.
I’m a bouncy flea!
They cleared the gap and landed hard on the next roof; Sawyer didn’t stop to revel in the minor miracle the way she wanted to. He didn’t give her a chance to relearn how to breath. Hand in hand they ran across the building and launched over the gap to the next one, the landing was just as hard; the shock jarred her teeth and made her knees ache.
She sucked in a breath as they ran again, diagonally this time before flinging themselves off the side. Her heart leapt, and for a few seconds she was flying, running through the air, weightless. This spell would’ve been so useful on so many jobs.
The roof rushed toward her and gravity hit her hard. It was harder to run this time, her legs ached. Sawyer grip was too tight. They were far enough away, weren’t they?
“One more,” he said through gritted teeth. “This one’s going to be rough.”
She ran hard, legs pumping even though the air had turned to treacle and she could barely push through. They leaped…but they weren’t going to make it. They were falling too fast.
“Grab whatever you can.”
She reached forward, her fingers catching the lip of the roof. Sawyer let go and she grabbed with her other hand, hanging for a moment before realizing that everything seemed to be sucking her down. She was getting heavier with every breath. Sawyer flung himself up and on to the roof. Then he leaned over and offered her a hand, hauling her up. She fell over the edge to the rooftop, on her back.
What was wrong with her? Her limbs were like lead.
Neither of them moved. She tried to lift her hand, but it was far too much effort.
“This some kind of side effect?”
“Yeah. You can’t defy gravity, merely delay its effects.”
“Not great if you have bad guys with guns trying to kill you.” They couldn’t even move, so running was out of the question.
“This is the coven building. The whole thing is warded.”
“So was your apartment.” She found the energy to roll onto her side and lift the sunglasses off his face. “So, what do these do?”
“Cosima…” But his attempt to grab them was too slow.
She slipped them on. “Whoa.” Sunglasses off it was dark, sunglasses on and it was daylight. She repeated it several times. “How is that even possible?”
“Magic.”
She glared at him, the effect totally hidden by the sunglasses. “It’s amazing. Did you do it?”
“Of course.”
“And the jumping thing?”
“Yes. Witches generally create their own spells. It’s really hard to give a spell to another. I’ve given stuff to my coven members, but I know them, and they know me so it’s a little easier. But other people’s spells feel different. It’s not like picking up a fork and knowing what to do with it.” He propped himself up on his elbow and lifted the sunglasses off her nose. “Too long and you’ll get a headache.”
“I was able to use the glasses.” He was close to her now. Only a couple of inches between her lips and his.
“Yeah. They were already activated.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Try now.”
She put them on, and everything got darker. The magic was gone. “So, a sword with magic…that’s constantly activated.”
“No. It’s a different kind of magic. Swords and other weapons and regalia usually have qualities like bravery, or honesty, or truth. Things you want in a leader or a warrior. Others are activated by the user’s emotions. Or blood. Some need a spell to wake.”
“Like a kiss?”
“A kiss?”
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. For a few moments, nothing else existed. He kissed her back, lips moving, opening. He was the same man she’d fallen in love with years ago. Her anger at him had faded over time, because a part of her still loved him. She’d been angry at herself. At everyone after leaving him. The end being for the best had been a lie.
“This is a bad idea,” he murmured without pulling away.
“People were just shooting at us. If I’m going to be killed, I’d like to break the current drought.” Her body knew his kiss and wanted more. She wanted everything.
“Deal with the fall out if we survive?”
“Something like that.” She pushed him onto his back and moved over him. She wasn’t worried about getting pregnant and had the rod in her arm to prove it, but she didn’t want to risk any other surprises. “Don’t suppose you packed anything in your bugout bag?”
“No…but if we go inside there’s condoms in my desk drawer.”
“Of course, there are.” He’d always had someone and that hadn’t changed. She wasn’t jealous…she was using him tonight.
“They’re very useful for containing magic.”
“Uh-huh. Is that what you call it?”
He pushed her off. “Some spells are best carried. A little powder or liquid in the pocket. No one wants to be carrying around glass vials and shit in the middle of a fight.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“The first time a vial gets crushed in your pocket, or you cut yourself on fine shards of glass, you learn quick. I need a carrier, and they are cheap and readily available.” He shrugged. “It’s not classy or particularly magical but it works.”
She sat back on her heels. “It’s a really clever solution. All this stuff…you’ve really thought it out.” He didn’t hope for the best the way he once had. While he talked about not having much magic, what she’d seen was amazing and clever. And so very Sawyer.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Because I had to. The others don’t need the props.”
He groaned as he stood, and so did she. “I feel a hundred.”
“It’ll be worse tomorrow.”
“Ugh. My thighs.”
“Yeah. Still want to get naked?”
“Yes.” She slipped her arm around him and stole a kiss. “Unless you’re too sore.”
“I’m never too sore, except…” He glanced at her. “You don’t need to hear that story.”
“Probably not.” She picked up her bag. “Tell me we don’t have to jump down.”
“No, I’ll have to recharge the spell. We’re going to climb down the fire escape. Quietly or the people that live in the building will want to know why we’re sneaking around.” He led the way, sunglasses on, scanning the street for guys with guns. Only when he was happy did they put their feet on the ground and go in the front door.
He disarmed the alarm and locked the door behind him but didn’t turn on any lights. She held his hand and followed. The familiar feeling of sneaking around with him and stealing moments together brought a smile to her lips. Being with Sawyer was always fun. The more trouble they were in, the more fun they had.
No one had ever tried to kill her so directly before, but the fear was buried beneath the exhilaration of the magic, the adrenaline of the escape, and the desire to have him in her hands again.
He opened his office door and pulled her in, shutting the door and kissing her as they dropped their bags. His fingers were in her hair, beneath her shirt. She wasn’t wearing any underwear and she was in his clothes. Her nipples tightened. He kissed down her neck sucked on one peak through the fabric of the T-shirt like he remembered what she liked. He couldn’t possibly; it was too long ago and too many lovers ago, for both of them.
She pushed him backward, toward his desk, flicking off his sunglasses as they went so they were both in the dark, and kissing him hard. His teeth on her lip and her nails on his skin. She wanted to remember every nip and moan. His hands palmed her ass and slid into her shorts as he pulled her against him.
Some parts of him were definitely not affected by the forget-about-gravity-for-a-moment spell. He wasn’t wearing underwear either. Why had she bothered sleeping in the spare bed when she could’ve been in his?
He yanked open a drawer and rummaged around until he pulled out the box. She took it out of his hands, tugging out a ribbon of condoms before dropping the box and tearing one off.
He spun her to face the desk. “Yeah? Still like it?”
She put one hand on the desk and glanced over her shoulder at him. He did remember.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Her shorts were dragged down, then he was kissing up her leg and she couldn’t get the condom open. His tongue was on the back of her thigh distracting her completely. Then he was tasting her, his tongue dipping into her, and she never wanted to get the condom open. He was too good with his tongue and she wanted to sink into the moment.
Lust build hot and heavy in her belly. His fingers slid into her and she came with a moan that was torn form her lungs.
“Anytime now would be nice.” He kissed her lower back, his fingers sliding in and out, rubbing her clit.
She drew in a breath and fumbled with the packet before handing it back to him. “You’ll be quicker.”
And he was, sinking into her in only a few heartbeats later. She groaned, enjoying that first sensation of being filled. His hands were on her hips as he thrust, fingertips pressing against her skin. She rocked back to meet him each time, needing to reach the edge again and feeling it sharpen against her skin. She reached down to touch herself, slick and hard. It was enough to push her over. She moved faster, chasing another, and he matched her rhythm. Her body shook as she came again. His grip tightened and he gave a final thrust.
Her breath was little more than hard pants. She dropped onto her elbows and hung her head. Slowly, she came back to her body and reality crashed back in. They were in his office pretending everything was fine when people had just been shooting at them. She tensed. How safe were they here?
Sawyer pulled away.
She waited a moment then stood and pulled up his shorts. She needed to get some underwear; hers were hanging over his shower and the rest were at her home. There was no way she was going home. Bright would be watching the place.
He tossed the condom in the bin and she was very tempted to make a joke about magic but didn’t. The right words wouldn’t form and there was nothing funny about their situation.
“What now?” She leaned on the desk, facing Sawyer.
“I don’t know. Bright just trashed my place and tried to kill us.”
“No one’s ever done that before?”
“Demon ridden humans don’t count. Nor do ex-girlfriends.” He smiled but it was carefully placed on his lips. “Generally, people aren’t trying to kill me. Ideally they don’t even know it was me.”
“Bright will know we’re here.”
“Yeah. But I’d rather make a stand here than be on the run.”
“A stand? You want to fight them?”
“Got a better idea?”
Run. That’s what she usually did. But if she ran, she’d be running forever, always looking over her shoulder.
“I should’ve snatched the sword out of Anthony’s hands and finished the job. Why didn’t I?” Anthony had already been dead, and Mallory had seen her. Taking the sword would’ve saved her more grief.
But then she wouldn’t have seen Sawyer again. She could’ve stopped by the coven any day she wanted over the last few years but hadn’t.
“Um, because you were scared that what happened to Anthony might happen to you?”
But it wouldn’t. She didn’t have magic, wasn’t that special. Her sole talent was researching. And she’d failed to discover that the sword was a witch killer. Now she’d dragged her ex and his friends into the mess. “The only way to stop this is to get the sword.”
“Bright isn’t getting it.” Sawyer was adamant.
“Do you want to die?” She didn’t, even though she didn’t know what she was going to do after this. Stealing magical objects for a living didn’t seem like a great career path for someone without magic. She doubted Sawyer would leave the coven to team up with her.
“No, and I’m ninety nine percent sure that the Morrigu isn’t ready for me. We’ll tackle the goons, send one with a message for Bright, and make a plan.”
“That’s never going to work.”
“That’s because you’ve never used magic to make it work.”
Chapter 8
It was unfortunate the rest of the coven agreed that it was too dangerous to continue going after the sword. The witches were all perched around what had been Mason’s office, now Peyton’s, like a loud argumentative murder of crows. The room bristled with opinions. Cosima leaned against the wall arms crossed, her long legs bare except for his shorts. How many of the others realized she had nothing on beneath?
He snapped his attention back to Peyton who was talking like he knew everything. “Look, we have to report the shooting to the cops. You weren’t home, you were here training, went home and saw the mess.”
Cops. Sawyer tried not to roll his eyes. Even though his juvenile record was sealed there were enough near misses as an adult—which Peyton’s lawyer buddies and a nice swathe of magic had swept away—that he was sure the cops watched him far too closely. “I’ll repair the damage myself. Let’s leave the cops out of it.”
Peyton shook his head. “It’s gone past that. It’s not just you, or her. There are innocent people in your building. If they come here, our kids are in the apartments.”
Cosima stood up straight, her eyes were wide and dark. “I thought this was a job. That you could fix this.”
Yeah, Peyton. You said this was a job. That I had unfinished business. And the Morrigu had agreed. Sawyer lifted an eyebrow and stared at Peyton.
“And what about the sword and how dangerous it is in Bright’s hands?” She stepped forward as though preparing to take on Peyton. “You said you’d get the sword and protect me from him. If you can’t, I’m better off giving him the sword.”
Cosima could fight, but Peyton had the hellhound’s strength to draw on as well as his own magic. Quitting wasn’t something that came easy to Cosima or Sawyer. When they were growing up quitting meant going hungry or getting beaten. So, they fought to win and didn’t stop. Had he ever stopped?
