The Witch's Familiar Page 8

  “Well…” Jude’s fingertip barely touched him, but he was beyond hard. “There is no such thing as average.”

  Yeah, there was. Pick someone, make sure they both wanted the same thing, and get on with it. Usually it didn’t involve head—he could get that from Ned. This would be different, though. This wasn’t a boredom screw.

  The zipper pulled apart, the teeth loud in his workshop.

  “What did you want?” Mack forced the words out and tried not to think about what Jude’s fingertips were doing to his exposed skin. He should take a step back and pull up his pants, but if someone came in the bell would chime.

  “I’d like a taste.” Jude lifted his gaze. His green eyes lit with lust.

  “And then?” He cupped Jude’s jaw. “I meant it when I said I won’t submit to you. I don’t bottom.” It wasn’t his thing, but he loved a nice ass, and he wanted Jude’s, though not here in his workshop. He wasn’t prepared for anything. His dick was ready for everything.

  Jude grinned. “That’s perfect. I didn’t get to ask you the other night, but how about for the moment we take it one thing at a time?” He gave Mack’s jeans a tug lower until his dick sprang free. Then Jude dropped to his knees.

  The sight was as arresting as it had been in his imagination. He couldn’t say stop as Jude freed him from his underwear. And he couldn’t keep his eyes open when Jude’s lips closed around him.

  This was not smart. This was not keeping what they had to a working relationship or keeping the bond as weak as possible. This was taking things further and making the most of the time they had even though he would get hurt. He knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to. He’d never wanted anything as much.

  He pressed his nails into the workbench.

  Hunger kicked through him. His heart raced to keep up. Resisting the urge to thrust became impossible; Jude made a small sound that was almost a purr as though he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

  Mack cupped Jude’s head. His hair was a fortress that couldn’t be penetrated by mortal fingers. Jude suckled, his tongue a demanding thing that worked the underside of Mack’s dick in a way that should be a crime. Mack glanced at the bench and picked up the rag. Jude swept it out of his hand and let it fall on the floor.

  He meant to—

  The door creaked, then the bell chimed. Mack froze.

  Jude glanced up and swallowed an extra inch.

  Mack’s heart stuttered. Jude drew back, sucking harder with every inch he released. Mack didn’t even look at the door. He couldn’t take his gaze off the witch on his knees.

  “Just a minute.” Mack was sure his words were strained.

  With a time limit and an audience on the other side of the thin wall, Jude applied himself to the task. Mack kept his teeth locked together. He wanted Jude to look away. To break the spell first, but he didn’t. And Mack couldn’t because he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  Jude’s tongue swept around the head before drawing him deep again. Mack’s hips jerked. The rag was on the floor. He couldn’t hold back.

  A grunt escaped. His hips rocked, and Jude swallowed everything, never once breaking eye contact.

  “What’s taking so long?” Ned’s voice was far too close.

  Mack’s chest heaved with each breath. He called out, “Had to finish what I was doing.”

  Jude sat back on his heels with a smile that was pure sin on his lips. Even though it was Mack who’d come, he had the feeling that Jude had gotten exactly what he wanted.

  His breathing was too fast, and the musk of sex of the air. He wanted to bend down and kiss Jude, but Ned was in the shop and waiting.

  Mack fixed his clothes, then put his finger to his lips, warning Jude to be quiet while he got rid of Ned. He prayed that he could school his face, so his features didn’t reveal the real reason he was taking so long.

  “I thought you were dodging me.” Ned grinned. “How’d your date go?”

  “Fine.” He did not want to talk about this now. His blood was still hot, and he wanted to get out the back.

  Ned leaned on the counter. “No details? Come on.”

  Mack considered his friend for a moment. If Jude hadn’t been in the workshop, he might have said more—nothing about witches and shifters. Ned was a friend, but he didn’t know all of Mack’s secrets. That was one of the reasons they were only friends. That and they’d been terrible together—they’d tried, but neither of them enjoyed bottoming. Ned was the only person he’d ever tried it with.

  That Jude was his magical mate; was that one witch in a million? And he was a bottom. And he’d arrived in Mercy…Jude had virtually been gift wrapped and placed at his feet. He should be holding him close and never letting go. And if Jude hadn’t been a witch, or he hadn’t been a familiar, then maybe he wouldn’t have been so hesitant. But he was a bear not a cat, and witches weren’t to be trusted.

  “I’ve seen him around town—”

  “And I’m still seeing him.” He did not want Ned chasing after Jude. The idea grated more than it should’ve. They barely knew each other, but Mack wanted more.

  “Ah, like that.” Ned stood up and nodded. “Damn, I wish I’d won the toss.”

  A little part of Mack died. He clamped his teeth together. “Was there anything you needed? I’ve got a big job I’m working on.” Not a lie, but he didn’t want to continue this conversation.

  “I was going to see if you wanted to get dinner, but you probably have other plans.”

  He didn’t, but dinner was an excuse. Ned wanted details and maybe more. Mack held his friend’s gaze for a moment before looking away. They both needed to break the habit, or they’d still be doing this shit in ten years’ time. He wanted more than a casual fuck buddy. “Another time.”

  Ned did his best not to look wounded, but it flickered over his lips and settled in his eyes. Mack wanted to put his arm around him, but the counter was in the way. Ned turned and walked out of the shop.

  “Won the coin toss?” Jude leaned against the doorframe.

  “Yeah. It’s a thing.” He couldn’t look at Jude.

  “You and he have a thing.” Footsteps came close.

  Mack smelled that clean, storm scent. “Had…just after high school. We’re still friends.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  Mack spun. Jude was three paces behind him. “Fine, we still get together sometimes.”

  Jude was silent for a moment. “If Ned had won the toss, I’d have asked him to introduce me to you.”

  “So you could zap me.” He didn’t want to be reliving that night again. It wasn’t his finest moment.

  Jude shook his head. “I didn’t know until I saw the light reflect in your eyes. Before that, I just wanted to get your attention.”

  “And now you have it.” And everything else. He was counting on Jude being true to his word that he wouldn’t use magic to compel Mack. Witches had a history of abusing magic and lying. That humans had risen up and tried to purge them out of existence had been the wake-up call the witches had needed to get their people under control. How good was Jude, as a witch and as a man?

  “Did you break up with him because of what you are?” Jude asked softly.

  “Yeah.” That had always been the sticking point in all of his relationships. How could he hide such a big part of himself? He didn’t like the dishonesty, but at the same time he was afraid of telling anyone. He didn’t want to be laughed at. Worse, he didn’t want to break up with someone and have them use it against him. Then there were the rules about not telling humans. Shifters sometimes did, but it didn’t always end well. There were accidental shifter deaths.

  “It must be hard being the only paranormal in town. Why did your parents stay here?”

  “My family has been here for generations. Bears aren’t social and we’re the only shifters in town.”

  “Both your parents are shifters?”

  Mack nodded. “I told you we get together for marriages and fun
erals. My parents locked eyes over a grave and have been together ever since.” That was how they told it, but there was more to it. His mother had already been promised to another, and his father had literally had to fight her betrothed. Bears out here clung to tradition. Some of them still expected Mack to marry. They kept putting their daughters in front of him, hoping to change his mind. He hadn’t told them he was gay. His parents knew, and people around the town knew. Even though his favorite bar held the occasional social night, it wasn’t something that was discussed.

  “What about your parents? Do you come from a long line of electro-mages?”

  The smile shattered on Jude’s lips. “I don’t know who my parents are.”

  “And your magic?”

  “I discovered that all by myself and by accident. It was a few more years before I came to the Coven’s attention.”

  Mack couldn’t imagine shifting for the first time and not knowing what to expect. He’d known what he was, what his parents were for his whole life. He didn’t know what to say.

  Jude walked around him to the other side of the counter. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Wait.” He had no idea what he wanted to say. Jude couldn’t walk in, blow him, and leave, especially on such a sour note. He shouldn’t care, he had work to do, but he did. He swallowed, wanting to say something meaningful, but he failed to find any words. “What are we going to do about the creature?”

  Jude stared at him. His eyebrows pinched together for a moment. Mack knew he’d said the wrong thing. He should’ve said something about them, not the job. He was shit at this.

  “I want to go back to North.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Though he had no idea what Jude hoped to find out there.

  Jude shook his head. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yeah, I do. I said I’d help, and I meant it. Besides, according to what I read, I’m supposed to keep you alive or something.” He forced a smile. If a shifter killed their witch, they were effectively committing suicide. But it had happened. History was littered with the corpses of what witches called familiar gone bad and what shifters called witches gone mad. “I’ll pick you up.”

  Eventually Jude nodded, but Mack had been judged, and he had failed by some yardstick he didn’t even know about.

  Chapter Seven

  Jude bought a salad roll and a drink on his way back to his room, then he opened his laptop and stared at the black screen. He could still taste Mack on his tongue. He didn’t let himself think of what might have happened if Mack’s ex hadn’t walked in. He cracked the lemonade and took a few gulps. The memory wasn’t as easy to erase.

  He wasn’t used to the eye contact, or to the connection. He’d felt Mack’s need, the coil of heat, and he’d wanted more. Needed more. Even now desire simmered, brushed aside but not forgotten. It flared to life when he came within a few yards of Mack. The pull to be near him was ridiculous. He found it hard to believe that witches had once sought this kind of connection because it made them stronger.

  As far as Jude was concerned it was completely distracting.

  He had a creature to hunt and his magic to save.

  He loaded up the database and logged in. He’d been given a log in when the Coven had deemed him trustworthy. In theory, all paranormals were able to log in and get information about themselves and find meeting groups. In practice, many had fallen away. Perhaps being unknown by the Coven was safer than living by their rules. It was interesting that Mack’s family was still connected, even though they were so isolated. Or maybe that was the reason.

  Jude returned to the creatures he’d flagged and read through the descriptions again. He was, of course, assuming the creature was flesh and blood. If it was incorporeal, that was a whole other list. There were many things that needed to feed on the living to exist in this realm.

  Did incorporeal beings leave footprints and eat hearts? He didn’t think so.

  He sipped his soft drink and studied the menu bar. He clicked the drop-down menu for witches. Then the one for shifters—he couldn’t click on any of the links for shifters, and Mack wouldn’t be able to look in the witch menu.

  He went back to the witches and scrolled through the different types. Had his mother or father been an electro-mage? When he was younger, he’d often wondered why he’d been abandoned. Had they known what he’d be and not wanted him? Or had his mother simply been too young and known nothing of witches, the magic coming from a father who hadn’t stuck around? The database wouldn’t give him any answers. It never did when it came to his family.

  He kept scrolling until he reached the link for familiars. The cursor hovered. The screen burned his retinas. He blinked and opened a new search window. There were other places he could get information. Places that the Coven didn’t monitor. Places the Coven would like to shut down but couldn’t because they sprang back up like toadstools.

  He typed in the website address. There was no way to search for the dark coven site on the internet. It was a secretive place where things most people didn’t need, or want, to know about could be talked about. No human could accidentally find it either. The only way in was to be invited. Like the Coven database there was a password. Someone had vetted him before giving him access, but he had no idea who or what they had discovered. Only that he’d been approved.

  There were no restrictions on the dark Coven site. He could look up bear shifters or any spell he wanted. Some of the information had been taken from the Coven database, and users had added other bits. Not all of it was reliable. But then, he wasn’t convinced the Coven’s database was either. This was where those who chose not to be part of the Coven, or who wanted more than what the Coven offered, went for information.

  For a time, he’d been lured in hoping to find out something about his parents. But without rules guiding behavior, people were less than genuine. Some of them made the Coven look caring. The Coven had drawn him closer, ostensibly for further training, after he’d fried the computer lab at college.

  It had been a lie created out of kindness. He’d been dangerous to everyone back then. He hadn’t realized what his fuck ups meant for the paranormal community. He hadn’t thought one Vegas win would put them in danger either. But if the Coven knew…

  He sighed. Sometimes a life without magic seemed so much simpler.

  Without fear of repercussion, he clicked on bear shifters, something he never thought he’d need to do. There were pictures—hand drawn and block prints from old books—of the different types of bear shifters. What kind of bear was Mack? He hadn’t even asked. Was that some kind of social error?

  Even in human form bears were stronger and faster than the average human. Their sense of smell was also more acute. And there he was, covering himself in aftershave and deodorant. He must smell like a whorehouse. He’d shower before Mack picked him up to go to North.

  As interesting as bear history was, it wasn’t helping him. It took a little longer to dig down because the site wasn’t as well organized as the Coven database, but he found the page on familiars. Everything from how to find one—there were spells and charms for that if one liked to wear unhatched cocoons. Other simpler solutions were to go to shifter bars and get busy kissing. That carried the warning that some shifter bars would ban witches that got too friendly with too many people—go slowly.

  Jude wrinkled his nose. Ew, there were still witches out there looking for a familiar.

  That didn’t sit well at all. They were probably the witches who shouldn’t have a familiar. A familiar wasn’t a pet cat—though some shifters had been forced to remain in their animal form by their witch a few centuries ago. Buried in the text was a link to a different page: love matches. That sounded better.

  Not that he was in love with Mack. It was lust.

  He smiled as he read about shifters and their witches exploiting the bond to full advantage and committing to each other in every way, though the article said the shifter should always obey the witch. The writer suggested th
is was how it was meant to be, and it was the natural order for witches to be in charge. Yeah…not all relationships were the same, and he didn’t want someone to boss around. He wanted a partner. He sucked in a breath. Until that moment he’d never thought such a thing. Settling down had always been something that would happen at some vague point in the future. Though clearly it would have to be with someone who knew about magic. He wasn’t very good at keeping his magic a secret. Yet that was how Mack had been living for years.

  Mack deserved better than Ned. Or this small town. But he couldn’t imagine Mack in the city either. Bears needed space. It would never work between them. The Fates got things wrong. But most of this was so right. Or at least it felt right, though that could be lust doing the thinking.

  There was a footnote linking to two other pages. One was a warning about shifters holding witches captive to exploit them—in the past it had been the other way around—and another on the petition for freedom that shifters could apply for if caught in an unwanted bond. He clicked through, wanting to know how the bond was undone.

  There was one paragraph. The spell was a simple unbinding ceremony, usually only done when a shifter had been coerced or otherwise entrapped. An additional warning had been added. If a witch traps an unwilling shifter there are penalties. The harshest is the stripping of magic. Be careful if searching for a familiar because the Coven doesn’t mess around.

  “Great, the Coven will have another excuse to strip my magic.” He finished the soda and tossed the can toward the trash. It hit the rim and bounced onto the floor in a shower of drips.

  Mack had said that he wouldn’t get him into trouble—he hadn’t mentioned the penalty either; maybe it wasn’t on the Coven site—but given the way the Coven, and Landstrom, wanted him to fail, they’d jump on this. Even if Mack and Jude caught the creature in time, he wasn’t getting out of this with his magic. He should quit now, unless he could convince Mack not to petition the Coven.

  He didn’t like his chances at that either. Mack had been dragged into this mess; somehow Jude had to fix it.