Wicked Circle

CHAPTER ELEVEN

You aren’t answering,” Johnny said, caressing up and down my arm.

I lay on my side. Though I nuzzled to his chest, I clutched my neck protectively. I’d been trying to remember the name of that song that had a line asking if the woman would offer her throat to the wolf with the red roses. I must have zoned out. “You didn’t ask anything.”

He gripped my hand and repositioned it away from my throat, gently squeezing. “Not out loud.”

Right. That. “The in signum amoris is gone, Johnny.”

“How? Why?” He sat up.

“I learned that Menessos had woven a hidden benefit for himself into it, so I unraveled his spell.”

He released a slow exhalation that tickled on my shoulder. “Would that explain a headache yesterday evening?”

“After nightfall?”

“Yup.”

“Yup,” I mimicked him.

“What hidden benefit did he have?”

“He could hear my thoughts but block me from hearing his.”

“Bastard.” He smoothed my hair. “But it was kinda cool.”

“It weirded me out.”

He leaned down and flicked his tongue all along my earlobe. His breath was hot in my ear as he whispered, “Yeah, but just imagine what it would’ve done for sex. . . .”

That might have been interesting. But I’d had enough sexual surprises for one night. I could still feel his teeth on my throat. I was all for unrestrained sexual moments, but actual fear had no place in my bedroom.

But we aren’t in my bedroom.

We remained there in silence long enough that the afterglow’s slumber had nearly claimed me when he said, “We have to go to The Dirty Dog. I need to put in an appearance.” Johnny slid away from me. “It’ll be three o’clock before I get there now anyway.”

I stretched to slough off the sleep trying to claim me and sat up. “I haven’t told you why I’m back in Cleveland.”

“You aren’t here just to see me?” he teased. Two paces from the bed he circled back. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.” I hadn’t meant to take this long getting to the haven, though I wasn’t eager to get there, either. Since Heldridge had made it to the Excelsior, Menessos’s second-in-command and sometimes assassin, Goliath, would have been called back to the haven as well. Goliath had overheard his dead brother’s voice emanating from my protrepticus—a magical device that, in my case, happened to be housed in a cell phone. He was none too happy thinking I had his brother’s spirit trapped.

I must have been frowning at that thought because Johnny cocked his head as he asked, “What? Is Menessos in more trouble than your mother?”

“Heldridge had his audience with the Excelsior.”

Johnny sat. “What’s the plan?”

“Dunno. Menessos said I needed to get back to Cleveland.” I touched his chest, played with the little bit of hair he had there. “But I wanted to see you first.” My gaze didn’t lift to his; he’d genuinely scared me.

I could hope that it was only different because we were at the den and he’d just been confirmed as the Domn Lup. But there was a niggling little thought in the back of my mind: What if he isn’t ready to control the amount of power we unleashed within him?

I was sooo glad he couldn’t read my mind. I didn’t want him to know I had even a small doubt in him.

Fifteen minutes later, Johnny backed me into the corner of the elevator and we made out as we rode it down to the parking garage. He was as gentle and sweet as he’d always been before. I felt a twinge of guilt over having even a mild doubt. When we emerged at the second-floor level, where there were no outer elevator doors, the cold night air rushed around us, chilling me even through my layered shirts and jacket.

Johnny wore only a black tee with his jeans. I’d been gripping his arms the whole time because I didn’t trust the erratic elevator, and his skin was hot over the cords of tense muscle. Still, I asked, “Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s refreshing,” he whispered into my ear. “I could do you all night.”

I held his face. “You’d break me.”

He showed me his lopsided grin, clearly accustomed to the shakes and wobbles of the machine. “That’s what magic’s for.”

I laughed, but my mirth ended immediately when the elevator lurched to a halt. Johnny leaned in and whispered into my ear, “I can protect you, Red. From evil elevators and from whatever trouble the vamp is stirring up this time.”

I squeezed him tighter.

He pulled back and gave me the most earnest countenance. “I’m . . . not like I was before, Red. The vamp couldn’t kick my ass now.”

I nodded, hoping he didn’t decide to test that theory. “You needed to be his equal,” I whispered. “And I’ve needed you to have this too—but I need you to not duke it out with fists or with magic. Okay?”

“Speaking of magic,” Johnny said as he opened the rotting wooden doors, “the men are eager for the forced change spell.”

I noticed he hadn’t answered me.

“It could be done here Monday night,” he said. “I’ll check the moon position, but with roof access you should have a good view for hours.”

“Depending on how things go with Heldridge and the Excelsior, I may not be able to do the spell Monday.” That was four days away.

“It’ll be okay.” He captured my hand as we entered the now empty parking area. It stretched before us, unlit and spooky. Johnny led me to the “rock and roll” parking around the corner.

“What about Zhan?”

“I’m sure Kirk escorted her to The Dirty Dog. We show our faces for a drink or two and then the three of us can head to the haven, okay?”

“Sure.” I didn’t actually want to go to The Dirty Dog. My last visit hadn’t gone well . . . although Cammi wasn’t here and no one else seemed too upset about my arrival. Cammi was jealous of my relationship with Johnny. Gregor had given her orders to never speak to Johnny again, so I hoped that she’d stay away and maybe I’d have a more pleasant visit to the bar tonight.

I wondered if Zhan’s Offerling status was impeding her having fun at The Dirty Dog.

Johnny drew the keys from his pocket and hit a button. The lone car ahead of us chirped.

Then it hit me: “You have a car! Oooo, it’s awesome-looking!” My knowledge of cars was minimal, but I was surprised he had a four-door. “I like the triton emblem. Very Poseidon-like.”

“This is a Maserati Quattroporte GT S.”

“Sounds fast.”

“It is very fast.” He opened the door for me.

I didn’t need a crystal ball to predict that he’d have to show me just how fast. “Mmmm. New car smell,” I said as he shut the door. The car was unfamiliar to me and the dome lights hadn’t lit up, so I felt a little lost groping about for my seat belt. When Johnny eased into the driver’s seat, I patted the raised block separating us. “Is this a console or a chaperone?”

“I can still reach you,” he said and put the key in the ignition. Then he sniffed. He sniffed again and twisted to see the backseat.

So I mimicked him.

Someone in a charcoal gray suit was sitting with his legs stretched across the backseat. He held a thick spiral-bound notebook open across his lap. “Hello, lovebirds.”

Menessos.

I glared at him. He contentedly flipped a page as if he could see perfectly in the dark. Maybe he could.

“This is very good stuff, John.”

Despite the surprise appearance, it made me feel good to have them both with me. Especially with Menessos being complimentary to Johnny.

Then Johnny snatched the art pad away, shut it and tossed it on the dashboard, effectively ruining my happy moment.

“How did you get in my car without setting off the alarm?”

“How?” Menessos repeated, considering. He shrugged. “Magic.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“The Excelsior’s people are swift, they could be here already. If they’re searching for me, the last place they’d check is in the Domn Lup’s new car. Nice choice, by the way. I do like Maseratis, although I’ve always been more fond of Aston Martins myself.”

“So you’re hiding,” Johnny said.

In one lithe motion, Menessos swiveled in the seat, put his feet to the floor and resettled himself into the center. He leaned forward, focusing on me. “I am here to secure the safety of those dearest to me.” He shifted his gaze to Johnny. “You make coupling that with self-preservation sound disgraceful. And speaking of coupling. . . .” He sniffed the air as Johnny had done a second ago, and his tone lowered. “The two of you are ready to concentrate on our mutual well-being now that your lusts are sated, yes?”

Johnny and I shared disgruntled head shakes.

Menessos sat back, hands behind his head in a satisfied pose. “Ah . . . l’amour.”

Johnny revved the engine and backed out of the parking spot.

When he pulled out onto the road, Menessos asked, “Where are we off to?”

“The Dirty Dog,” Johnny replied.

“It’s a bad time for a social call just now,” the vampire said.

Johnny slammed the brakes, squealing the tires. My seat belt restrained me, but I protested with a distressed “Hey!” just as Menessos crashed into the backs of our seats.

“I’m not your chauffeur,” Johnny growled. “If you don’t like where your hiding spot is headed, get out.”

Menessos righted himself and smoothed his suit jacket. “Touché, John. That practically hurt. I commend you for surprising me. From now on, I’ll expect your quick temper.” He made no effort to leave the car. “However, I can’t imagine Persephone enjoyed being thrust around like that.”

“She enjoys my thrusting just fine.”

My teeth ground together. The two of them embarked on a stare down.

I counted to ten. Twenty. Thirty. And I thought they’d been getting chummy. Guess not. “Guys. Enough.”

“You want the protection of my vehicle, vamp? It’s yours as long as you keep your mouth shut.” Johnny resumed driving.

I’d honestly never seen Johnny this . . . testy.

Not soon enough we were at the bar that served as a second home to the wærewolves. If the local fire chief wanted to enforce maximum occupancy rules tonight, this would be the place to start. The whole block was lined with cars. Johnny couldn’t park anywhere near The Dirty Dog.

“You’d think they’d leave you of all people a convenient spot,” Menessos mused. “Or is this a surprise visit?”

I gave Mr. I’m-Picking-a-Fight the stink-eye. He winked at me.

Johnny parked two blocks away in a residential area. “I’ll wait here,” I told him, “but don’t rush because of it. Do what you have to do. Menessos will keep me company.” After a toe-curling kiss, Johnny left.

His kisses were always wonderful, but that one had had a sense of “nanny-nanny-boo-boo” to it, as if the divine depth and scope of that lip-lock had been meant to incite both my pleasure and Menessos’s pain.

Men.

My gaze lingered on Johnny as he jogged up the street. At six-two his body was lean and long, but it didn’t make him awkward. He was graceful no matter what he did. My breath escaped in a soft sigh.

“How is your mother doing?”