Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) Page 10

  Danica, wake up! Snap out of it! Caitlin screamed at her, but she realized the words were only resounding in her own mind. Danica could hear nothing…nothing except Matías’ insinuating voice.

  Then he was taking the joint from her and inhaling deeply of it, right before he set it back in the ashtray. He exhaled, the cloud of smoke surrounding them both, right before he lowered his head to her breast, tongue slipping over her bare flesh, while at the same time his hand moved between her legs. Danica moaned, her eyes closing, and if there were any mercy, that would have been the end of it, and Caitlin wouldn’t have to see any more.

  But no, it was like viewing some strange multi-viewpoint porn film where she was forced to watch what Matías was doing to Danica, to listen to her friend spasm in pleasure as the warlock stroked her to orgasm, while at the same time seeing these things and feeling them as if they were happening to her as well. And after Danica climaxed, he told her, “My turn,” and she sat up, reached out to touch him, then lowered her head to take him into her mouth.

  A scream tore itself from Caitlin’s throat. “No! No, Danica! No!”

  And she wailed in agony, because she knew her friend couldn’t hear her, and there was nothing she could do to stop what had to be happening to Danica right now.

  Nothing.

  * * *

  It had been difficult, but Alex eventually fought his way to sleep, made himself stop thinking about the girl lying in bed just down the hallway from him. He’d closed his bedroom door to give her privacy, true, but it was also to avoid catching a glimpse of her in whatever she might have worn to sleep in. That would’ve kept him awake for hours.

  At first it penetrated his sleep-fogged brain like the distant wail of an air-raid siren, a shrill noise that definitely had no place in his house. Then he blinked, his eyes opening as he realized it wasn’t a siren at all, but Caitlin, screaming as if she was being axe-murdered.

  He didn’t stop to think, or worry that he’d been sleeping in his underwear and nothing else. No, he pushed back the covers and was bolting from his room within seconds, tearing down the hallway as he brought the protective dome around him, just in case there were any armed intruders in Caitlin’s room.

  But when he flung open the door and switched on the light, he saw nothing except the McAllister witch herself, huddled into a corner of the daybed frame, arms clutched around her as she rocked back and forth and let out a series of despairing cries that sounded like a litter of kittens being run over by a truck.

  “Caitlin!” he said sharply, hoping the sound of his voice calling her name would be enough to snap her out of whatever state she was in.

  No response, only that terrible rocking motion as her eyes seemed to stare at something only she could see.

  He had no experience with someone being in a trance, or whatever was currently possessing her. However, he also knew that he couldn’t let her remain in this state. She was obviously terrified.

  Since they were clearly alone, he dropped the shield and went to her, grasping her by the arms. “Caitlin! Caitlin, please — you’re here. You’re safe.”

  Those last words seemed to penetrate when merely saying her name hadn’t. The wild look began to leave her eyes, and then she blinked and looked around the room before returning her gaze to him. She drew in a shuddering breath and burst into tears.

  Oh, hell. Dealing with crying women had never been his strong suit. But because she was so obviously in pain, he let go of her arms and pulled her close to him, holding her so she’d know she wasn’t alone, that there was someone here to protect her. At the same time, he was doing everything in his power not to focus on the way her breasts were pushed up against him, separated from the bare skin of his chest by only a thin tank top. That loose-fitting peasant blouse she’d been wearing earlier had concealed some of the shape of her body, but now he could tell how rounded and full those breasts actually were.

  Despite his best efforts to tell his body this was absolutely the wrong time, he could feel himself begin to stiffen. Great. It was a lot easier to hide that sort of thing in a pair of jeans than a pair of boxer-briefs.

  Don’t…just don’t, he told himself, and his erection subsided a little. He could only imagine Caitlin’s reaction if she noticed that he’d managed to give himself a boner when he was trying to comfort her.

  “What was it?” he asked. “A vision?”

  She nodded and pulled away from him slightly. Her eyes and nose were red, but he found he didn’t care too much. She still looked so damn beautiful.

  “I’m guessing it wasn’t a good one.”

  That remark earned him a rusty chuckle. After wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, she said, “I saw Danica.”

  “Was she — ” He didn’t complete the sentence, but he figured Caitlin would know what he was driving at. Surely nothing besides seeing her friend’s death would have made her act like that.

  “No,” she whispered. A shudder passed through her, and she looked away from him, at the wooden blinds that concealed the window. “She was with him.”

  “Matías?”

  Another nod. She drew in a breath, then expelled it. Her body was still shaking, and he forced himself to keep his attention fixed on her face. “They were…they were in bed. You know.”

  Yes, he did know, although it had been a while. But he could understand why Caitlin would be so upset, seeing her friend having sex with the man who had kidnapped her. “Was she being forced?” That would explain the screams, especially if Caitlin had experienced the scene with the sort of immediacy that sometimes came with visions.

  “No.” The word was hardly more than a whisper. She cleared her throat, then went on, “I mean, I think he was still controlling her. She certainly wasn’t trying to fight back. She looked like she was enjoying it. She — ” The syllable seemed to choke her, and Alex saw her visibly swallow. “He had her share a joint with him. Danica doesn’t do drugs. Ever. She hardly even drinks that much. That one margarita she had at the restaurant would’ve been it for her.”

  It definitely did sound as if Danica was still under Matías’ influence, although Alex wasn’t sure whether the warlock had cast an actual spell, or whether this was his gift — the ability to make those around him bend to his will. If so, that was an even more frightening prospect. No one in the de la Paz clan had that sort of talent, and although there were dark rumors of such things existing once upon a time, they hadn’t been around for generations. Until now, it seemed.

  “I’m sorry, Caitlin,” Alex said. He hesitated, wondering how much he should press her. Still, at least she’d had a vision. That meant her own particular talent was attempting to assert itself. “Did you see anything else?”

  She shot him a black look. “What, you don’t think that was enough?”

  “No,” he said calmly. “What I meant was, did you see anything else of their surroundings, anything that might help us track down where they are?”

  “Oh.” She seemed to deflate then, and shook her head. “I’m pretty sure it was the same apartment, but it was mostly dark. There was…some kind of candlelight.” A frown as she appeared to rack her patchy memory of the scene. “I think there were some of those saints’ candles on a dresser across the room. A queen-size bed, and a nightstand. Curtains at the window, I think, not blinds. The room wasn’t very big.”

  “Well, that’s something,” he said. “Did it feel more like an apartment or house, or a motel room or something?”

  Her eyes shut, lashes dark russet against her pale cheeks. “I don’t think it was a motel. It felt more like an apartment, although I can’t say why.” Then she blinked. “The door was open. There was light coming down the hallway, so unless it was a suite somewhere, it must’ve been an apartment or a house. And you’d think a hotel suite would have better furniture.”

  Alex fought back a smile at that comment. It was delivered in a wry tone that made him think she was beginning to recover from the nightmarish vision she’d
just seen. “You’re probably right. That narrows it down a bit.”

  “A bit,” she repeated. “So how many rundown apartments and houses are there in Tucson?”

  “A good number.” A lot, he thought. More than we could search in the time Danica and Roslyn probably have left. But he didn’t bother to say that out loud. He had a good idea Caitlin knew exactly how hopeless the situation was.

  She didn’t respond, only toyed with the sheet covering her lap. Then she seemed to focus on him — really focus on him. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Um…did you forget your pajamas or something?”

  Thank God he didn’t have the kind of skin that flushed easily. Holding her gaze…mostly so she couldn’t look down…he replied, “I don’t even own pajamas. You were screaming bloody murder, so I ran to help you.”

  “Oh.” Her voice sounded very small. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. That’s why you’re here — so I can help keep you safe.”

  “I’m still sorry I woke you up.”

  “It’s all right.” She did seem calmer now, so he pushed himself away from her and off the bed, glad that his body had decided to behave itself once their conversation got started. That would have been even more awkward than standing in front of her wearing only his underwear. “But if you’re okay now, I’ll go back to bed.”

  “Don’t!” she exclaimed, then looked away from him, as if she’d surprised herself with that outburst. “I mean…I’m not sure I want to be by myself.”

  He couldn’t really blame her for that. That vision had sounded pretty awful. And the worst part was that she didn’t have much control over when those images invaded her mind. He wouldn’t want to be alone, either, if their situations had been reversed.

  “Then come stay in my room,” he offered, and her eyes widened again.

  “Sleep with you?”

  “Yes,” he said patiently, then added, “The operative word being ‘sleep.’ I have a king-size bed. You’ll hardly notice I’m there. But at least you won’t be by yourself if you have another one of those visions.”

  A long, long pause. She stared up at him, clearly conflicted. He supposed he should be glad that she was looking at his face, though, and not the rest of him. Or at least he didn’t think she was.

  Then, finally, “Okay.” She pushed aside the covers and got up, giving him a better look at the way the tank top she wore clung to her breasts, the yoga pants that showed off the lines of her long legs and rounded ass.

  Damn. He could feel himself start to stir again, and turned away from her, praying she hadn’t noticed. “This way.”

  She followed him without comment back to his room. Since it was clear enough from the way the bedclothes were rumpled which side he slept on, she climbed under the covers on the right side of the bed, while he went to his usual spot and got in.

  It did feel strange to have her there. He’d bought this house after he broke up with his last girlfriend, and so he hadn’t had anyone in bed with him here. True, Caitlin was staying way, way over to the one side, leaving quite a space between them. Even so….

  He said calmly, “Good night, Caitlin.”

  “Good night, Alex.” She sounded far more composed now, although there was a tension in her voice that indicated she wasn’t quite as relaxed as she would have liked him to think. Well, he couldn’t blame her for that. They’d just met this afternoon, and now she was here in his bed….

  Sleeping, he told himself. Only sleeping. At the moment, he was just glad he’d bought a king-size bed when he moved to this house. That put some nice, safe real estate between him and the body he’d been trying hard not to ogle a few minutes earlier.

  He reached over and turned off the light. Darkness immediately surrounded them, save for the faint reflected glow of the nightlight in the en suite bathroom. Caitlin was lying so still that he could almost convince himself she wasn’t there at all.

  But he knew better.

  8

  Caitlin opened her eyes and blinked up at the ceiling fan above her head. It was off, the air against her face cool enough that a fan wasn’t needed. For a second, she couldn’t figure out where she was. The condo she’d rented with Danica and Roslyn?

  Then she felt the bed shift slightly, and she looked over to her right, saw Alex Trujillo’s dark head on the pillow next to her. Well, okay, not right next to her; the bed was large, and he was on his side, facing away from her. She could see the smooth golden-brown skin of his shoulders and back, underlaid with an impressive amount of muscle.

  It all came back to her — the warlocks, the kidnapping. How she’d ended up here, in Alex’s house. In his bed.

  Nothing happened, she told herself. It was true. Nothing had happened. That didn’t make the current situation any less awkward.

  “Good morning,” she said, since she could tell he was awake.

  He turned toward her, propping himself up on his elbow. The fine lines of his jaw were now covered with dark stubble, and his hair was sticking out every which way, and he looked freaking gorgeous. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she managed.

  “No more visions?”

  She shook her head, hoping she looked as adorably rumpled as he did, and guessing she probably didn’t. Oh, well. “Nothing.”

  “That has to be a relief.” His expression was sympathetic. “At least you were able to get some rest.”

  Yes, she had, although it had taken her what felt like forever to fall asleep, knowing that Alex was in bed with her, that all she had to do was reach out and…what? Pull him to her? That was insane. But once she’d heard his breaths deepen as he slept, she’d allowed herself to relax, to drift off, until eventually slumber had claimed her as well. It hadn’t been easy, however.

  “You want some coffee?” he asked, sitting up.

  It was hard not to stare at his exposed chest, even though she’d gotten an eyeful of it the night before. Then again, it was a lot brighter this morning, even though all the blinds in the bedroom were still shut. “I don’t really drink coffee,” she confessed. “Do you have any tea?”

  He shook his head, but brightened a little as something appeared to occur to him. “I have a jug of iced tea from Trader Joe’s in the fridge. Will that work?”

  It would have to. She’d rather start off the day with a hot drink, but better some kind of caffeine than none at all. “Sure.”

  After pushing back the covers, he got up and promptly disappeared through a door in the sitting area off the bathroom. Apparently, that led to some sort of walk-in closet, because he came back out a minute later in a pair of faded jeans and a University of Arizona T-shirt. Much better. At least now his face would be the only thing distracting her.

  “Is that where you went?” she asked, sliding out of bed as well. The clothes she’d slept in covered everything, more or less, but they also didn’t hide much. And crossing her arms over her chest would be way too obvious. Tone casual, she added, “U of A?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, and, thank the Goddess, his eyes were on her face and didn’t seem inclined to move any lower.

  “Did you like it?”

  He shrugged. “It was okay. I graduated, which is the important thing, I guess.”

  His attitude puzzled her. She’d been overjoyed at the prospect of finishing up college at Northern Pines, since it meant she could get a real degree from a real four-year university, something that had been denied the McAllister clan until the recent truce with the Wilcoxes. And here Alex had grown up in the town that had the best school in the state, and was acting as if it was no big deal.

  “What did you major in?”

  “Double major. Marketing and communications.” Something in his expression told her he really didn’t want to talk about it. He picked up the iPhone that had been sitting on his nightstand, then asked, “You ready for that tea?”

  “Sure,” she said, taking the hint. For whatever reason, the subject of college seemed a touchy one for him. M
aybe she’d get to know him well enough that she could ask what that was all about.

  Or maybe not. She was only here to help find Danica and Roslyn, right?

  Frowning, she followed Alex to the kitchen. The travertine tiles were cold under her feet, and she wished she’d thought to pop into the guest room and slide on her flip-flops. Well, Alex was wandering around barefoot, so she’d do the same.

  After setting his cell phone down on the counter, he got a glass out of the cupboard, then went to the fridge and retrieved a large plastic jug full of tea. Once he’d poured some for her and returned the jug to the refrigerator, he busied himself with getting a pot of coffee going.

  Caitlin sipped her tea and tried not to watch him, although that was difficult. Something about the way he moved, the way he looked…everything…seemed to draw her eyes, no matter what she did. “So…what’s the plan for today?”

  “It depends, I guess.” He turned away from the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m supposed to work, but I’ll get someone to cover for me.”

  She hadn’t even thought about that. It was Thursday, a normal work day. Or at least a normal work day for most of the world. She knew a lot of the Wilcox clan had regular jobs, acted as if there wasn’t anything particularly special about them, and it seemed to be that way down here in de la Paz territory as well. In Jerome, people worked, but even the shop owners tended to be fairly haphazard about their business hours. And since so many of the McAllister witches and warlocks were artists and artisans, they set their own schedules, such as they were.

  The coffee began to perk. Caitlin inhaled the aroma, wishing coffee tasted even half as good as it smelled. But the jug tea was actually pretty good, and she could feel herself becoming more awake, more on top of things, as the caffeine started to flow through her bloodstream. There was a downside to being more alert, though; as her brain woke up, memory started to flow as well, the nightmarish images of Danica in Matías’ arms, of her letting him touch her. Violate her.