Brent had called her
princess
! When he knew damn well she despised the nickname. How could he have done it? Clearly he hadn’t been truthful when he’d said he knew she wasn’t helpless. And after the way she’d handled herself at the Anala’s house, he still thought she was useless.
She dropped onto the bed. With her fingers dug into her Boo bear’s matted fur, she slowly brought her furious inhalations down to steady breaths. Sara drew her lower lip between her teeth.
Brent’s opinion meant twice as much now as it had before she’d returned from school. His calling her princess weeks ago would have irritated her but it would have been status quo. She’d foolishly thought things had changed between them.
All she had to do was recall whatever was going on between them was also going on between Brent and Vanessa. She’d keep the thought in her head during all future dealings.
Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to stop her from doing anything reckless like last night.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Becoming regional high priest was both the worst and best thing that had ever happened to Brent. Among the worst things was the loss of the most important figure in his life. And among the best was he now had a new important figure in his life. But being high priest was keeping him from that.
And it had put her in danger.
Brent’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel of Sara’s Lexus as he glared in the mirror at the unconscious witches. They’d been tranquilized and were in no danger of attacking him yet they symbolized the danger of his new position. He shook his head to push away the dark thoughts. What he’d have to do shortly would be plenty dark without allowing concerns of the future to impede.
He didn’t like not knowing if the Escalade that had parked down the road from McKenna House had been more foes. Or who the witches had called when his party of five had burst onto the scene at Grace’s house. Above all, he didn’t like leaving Sara with anyone but himself. These three needed to be dealt with quickly so he could get back to her.
Brent had been deep in thought. So much so that he’d barely noted the pickup following six car lengths back on the trip to Fintan’s rural cottage. Its presence didn’t alarm him until he’d pulled into the cottage’s driveway and the truck slowed to an idling stop at the mouth of the pebbled stretch.
The driver’s side window wheeled opened. A small glow appeared in the darkened compartment of the tinted truck's cabin. Brent reacted on pure instinct alone. He had nanoseconds to pop his door and jump to the ground from the moving vehicle.
A massive fireball followed by two smaller ones impacted into the Lexus's back window before his body hit the ground. If the flare of flames engulfing the interior hadn't been enough to total the car, the ensuing crash into a broad tree was.
Sara was going to be rip shit.
Brent rolled over, gingerly checking his limbs for damage from the fall. And then he went to work with a counter attack. He wished Sara were here to syphon for him. With the influx of power she gave, he would have been able to form a blast capable of destroying the truck. As it were, he’d have to rely on the chance they hadn’t had time to regroup.
Unfortunately, what he didn’t count on was that they’d be cowards. Rather than fighting a sole witch, they rolled up the window as they gunned the engine forward. Brent arrived at the end of the pebble drive as they faded into the distance at a roaring speed. No license plate was visible. And the model, a black Ford F-150, wasn’t exactly rare.
Lethargically Brent viewed the burning heap of steel that had once been Sara’s beloved car. He lifted his phone to his ear, warning the others of the truck, and then called for the Cleaners.
The Ena brood cared little for each other if they were willing to sacrifice three of their own for a shot at him. There would be little loss to the world when they were eliminated.
****
An unfamiliar car pulled into the driveway in the dead of night. The door opened with a whine of hinges that needed oil. And then the metal clunked shut. Worried another Ena witch had turned up to give them trouble, Sara focused on the noises out her far window. The driver did nothing to quiet the footsteps tapping on the wooden deck.
Her fingers clenched the pillow tight when the side door opened. But rather than an attack, male witches greeted each other heartily in the kitchen below. Both were recognizable. Though it was very early in the morning, Derrick’s deep timbre meant he’d stayed up to wait on Brent. And Brent’s steady delivery was easy to pick out even when muffled.
Sara glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Three hours ago she’d led Derrick to believe she’d gone to bed. And she had. She’d simply been unable to sleep.
Sara had thought she’d rest once Brent was home safe. But now that he was here she would be unable to sleep until… Until when? Until she’d seen him with her own eyes and made certain he was safe? Or until he’d come upstairs for that talk he’d threatened earlier?
Murmurs through the floor implied the pair was catching up on the night’s events. Sara clutched the pillow tighter. The waiting was awful. It had been awful before Brent had arrived and somehow it was just as awful now that he was home.
She should be relieved. In reality her dread was every bit as great as it had been during the hours of waiting. Now she was anxious for a different reason.
Someone mounted the stairs, quietly creaking the loose board. Her heart skipped a beat. He was coming. Should she feign sleep?
No. She wouldn’t feign anything. Sara sat up in the bed with the pillow clasped to her chest.
The soft knock on the door would have been barely audible if she hadn’t been listening for it. Brent twisted the knob without waiting for her to call out. He stepped inside the dark room, quickly closing the door.
His clothing appeared to be fresh without a tear or burn on the soft fabric. Perhaps the witches hadn’t given him any trouble? They
had
been unconscious.
So then what had kept him?
“You’re awake,” he whispered when he saw her seated in bed.
“Yes,” she agreed as she examined him in the dark.
“I…” His voice trailed off uneasily. Both hands slashed through his hair. “I have bad news.”
Vanessa was pregnant and they needed the master bedroom to be together. Sara’s teeth slammed down angrily at the mere thought.
Brent exhaled a quick breath. “I was attacked at the cottage in Franklin. They blew up your car.”
Considering what she’d thought he’d say, his actual bad news seemed strangely…less. Nonetheless, Brent hurried his explanation, “But we’ll get you a new one tomorrow. A better one. I got what I could out of it but the radio was fried so I couldn’t get your CD.”
The way his pitch had lifted when he’d said “a better one” struck her as funny. He could have been in her car when it had exploded. She would have been far more upset then.
Her amusement made it easy to reply, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I didn’t have much of value in the car beyond the car itself.”
Brent started for her, pausing at the foot of her bed. He settled on the edge in a sliver of moonlight. “The attackers got away. But their attack killed the three unconscious witches in the Lexus.”
His black hair glistened in the moonlight. Curious how shiny it was but it was attractive.
“They made it easy for you then I guess,” she murmured.
“I promise we’ll get you a better car as soon as possible. Whatever you want. I shouldn’t have been driving it,” he told her in a believably contrite voice.
“It could hold the most people.”
“I should buy myself something bigger that will hold people so I won’t have to use yours when something like this happens.”
“Hopefully something like this won’t happen in the future.”
Wishful thinking, but she’d been too slow to realize it before speaking the words. Brent would have to solidify his place as regional high priest, proving he could hold it. Only then would the violence stop. That would take years.
“Sara.” His voice softened.
The hairs on her arms lifted at the breathy sound. He was going to utter something serious.
“The only thing I could think of today was that I wanted you to be safe. But I’m the reason you’re in danger.”
“The Ena witch that tried to get above his station is why I’m in danger,” she quickly refuted.
Brent didn’t argue. Instead, he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’ll be in danger so long as you’re around me. But…I don’t want you to leave.”
She stared at the dark shapes of his eyes.
He didn’t want her to leave? Was this because of the duty Fintan had demanded they complete?
When he said nothing else, she forced her lips open. “Why?”
Brent crawled over the bed until he sat inches from her. His fingers traversed the darkness and cupped her chin. Gently he tilted her face, positioning it for his kiss.
His lips formed over hers with steady pressure. Heat flared out all along her arms and down her body to the junction of her thighs. Sara immediately recalled how amazing being with Brent could be. And she immediately wanted it.
But she’d promised herself she’d remember she wasn’t the only one he’d been intimate with.
A drop of chilly water hit her on the cheek. Her fingers prod his scalp in search of an explanation.
It was wet!
Sara smashed her palms against his chest as hard and as fast as she could. His body bent to the right before settling beside her.
“You…cad,” she snarled now that her mouth was free of him. “You were with
her
before you came here? You couldn’t even dry your hair before seeing me? Is the
princess
not worth that kind of effort?”
“What are you talking about?”
Sara sprung upright, stalking toward the bathroom. It was the only room she had access to with a lock. Brent grabbed her elbow before she’d made it to the door. He twirled her to face him.
“Sara.” Frustration and confusion crinkled his moonlit features—clean-shaven features. He’d shaved for her? “What are you talking about?”
“Vanessa,” she snapped.
“What the hell does she…” His words trailed off uncertainly. And then his mouth went slack. “You think I was with Vanessa before I came here?”
Sara tugged angrily at his grip, snarling, “Let go!”
“Sara, look at me.” Brent grabbed her chin when she continued to fight. “You have it all wrong. I wasn’t with Vanessa. I showered because I helped the Cleaners clean.”
“I don’t care.” The unreasonable tone sounded false even to her ears.
“Look at me,” he demanded again, pinching her chin tighter.
Sara had no choice but to look. His eyes were soft, pleading, and far too close.
“I’ve never been with Vanessa.” He gave her a moment to digest his statement and then he added, “Not tonight. Not yesterday. Not the first night she came here.”
“She was in your room wearing almost nothing.” Sara’s response was shockingly petulant.
“She tried to lure me into something,” Brent admitted. His fingers loosened on her chin but only enough to lightly stroke along her skin. “I sent her back to her room. She was only in mine for a handful of minutes. Sara,” he brought his face close to hers, a kissing distance. His warm ebony scent was intoxicating. “I don’t want her. I want you.”
Shivers of desire made their way over her arms and down her legs. The husky quality of the voice cutting through the darkness speaking those words stunned her into inaction.
At a softer volume he added, “I’ve wanted you since we were kids—since I realized girls weren’t yucky.”
Sara might have smiled if she weren’t still nursing surprise.
He hadn’t been with Vanessa? Not once? Nearly every bad thought she’d had of him in the past week had been related to him taking his pleasure from every available witch. What sort of thought could she have about him now that she’d been wrong?
Brent’s lips descended upon hers, stealing her ability to think. He slid his left arm along her cheek into her hair and then down her back, bringing her warming body against his. Already the length of him was hard and ready beside her thigh.
Her heart made a mad skip. He was in her room, in the dark with an invitation. They’d already been intimate once. And with the news he hadn’t been with Vanessa, nothing stopped them from doing it again.
Accepting what was about to happen, Sara settled her palms atop his chest. He tugged her closer still as his tongue swept between her lips. Brent’s smoky taste and ebony scent flooded her senses with remembered heat.
Hours of worrying, days of jealousy, and many years of conflict were channeled into her arms when she curved them around his neck. A low noise, a moan she hoped, escaped him when she began truly participating in the kiss.
But he broke away seconds later to whisper what sounded like a plea. “Sara.”
She didn’t want to talk. They fought too much when they talked. Sara wanted him to take her away from the fighting, from the violence of their race if only for a few minutes. She lifted onto the balls of her feet, smashing her lips against his in a show of what she wanted.
He moaned again as her tongue swirled over his with soft, needy motions. Brent soon lifted her against his chest. He carried her backwards, bending carefully until the soft blanket brushed her legs. His lean body stretched over hers.
Something serious was about to happen in her childhood bed.
Something serious wasn’t happening fast enough.
Brent’s knee found its way between her thighs. She arched against him, digging her nails into his knit T-shirt. Brent broke their kiss long enough to pull the garment over his head helpfully before his tongue invaded her mouth once more.
His skin warmed her even through her tank top. It wasn’t nearly close enough for her tastes. Brent must have had a similar thought for his hand brought the thin fabric up inch by teasing inch. His fingernails grazed teasingly over her skin as he went.