The Witch's Initiation

Firm, sensuous lips plundered her startled ones, his tongue delving deep, pushing past her teeth to taste her and drink his fill.

Where their bodies touched, her skin was on fire. Deme squirmed, constrained by the clothing she wore, longing for her naked skin to melt into his.

Long, loud sighs from the young girls at the table beside her brought Deme out of the trance the man’s sheer allure had thrown her into. She pulled back, fighting to mask the shock in her eyes. How could she have fallen into his arms—his kiss—without so much as a mew of protest? What had come over her? She never acted so mindlessly. She’d fallen for this macho bullshit before, and what had it bought her?

Heartburn and heartache.

The blue-eyed blonde coed sighed again. “I wish someone would kiss me like that.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” The man caressed the back of Deme’s neck again before he dragged his fingers over her shoulder and downward to capture her hand in his.

Deme tried to pull free, struggling to come up with words to voice her anger at his flagrant attack on her senses. Anger at herself for responding so willingly. By the goddess, she was here to save her sister, not to crawl into a man’s skin.

“Want to find a quieter spot?” His look was like liquid chocolate, melting into her pores. With a flick of his eyes, he indicated the girls drooling at the table next to them. More sighs rose from the hormonal young ladies.

“The table by the window.” Deme cringed. Was that her voice, that reedy squeak?

Without releasing her hand, he led her to the table at the far corner of the student commons with a lovely view of a rose garden. A table near to where the professor had exploded in a fit of rage.

As she walked like a docile dog behind him, Deme let the anger build. Righteous anger beat mindless lust any day of the week. She’d been in one too many relationships where a man had tried to take charge of her life. Okay, so only one doomed relationship—the relationship she’d had with this man. Besides, her purpose for being at Colyer-Fenton was to find her missing sister, not get all weak in the knees over a cop too sexy to blend in.

With his empty hand, he pulled out a seat and dragged her into it.

Deme sat down hard, her lips drawn into a tight line.

He leaned over her, pressing his lips to her ear. “Try to look a little less like you swallowed a lemon.” Then he slid his mouth down her jawline and claimed hers in a brief kiss.

Rendered speechless yet again, Deme sat with her mouth open and nothing coming out. How’d he do that?

He pulled out a chair, flipped it around and straddled it like a Harley, his brows hiked into the hair dangling like temptation over his forehead. “Deme Chattox. You never did tell me what Deme means. We can talk about that later. We have business to discuss.” He lifted one of her hands and threaded his fingers through hers.

With her lips still tingling from his kiss and the warmth of his fingers on hers stirring up those old feelings of lust all over again, Deme finally pulled herself together. Yanking her hand free, she hid it in her lap.

She leaned forward, her head turned away from the others in the union still watching them. “Is this a joke?” She stared around the room, hoping she’d find some sadistic huckster ready to spring out and tell her she’d been punked. When no one did, she sat on her hands to keep them from shaking in front of him…Cal Black, her former fiancé, lover and her own personal nemesis. “How the hell did you end up on this case?”

He smiled, the act an unaffected thing of beauty. His dark chocolate eyes twinkled and his full, kissable lips stretched over straight, white teeth, a stark contrast to his coal-black hair. She’d fallen for that look once before. “You’re my cover, sweetheart.” He ran his fingers down her cheek and touched a finger to her swollen lips. “To you, I’m the detective the Chicago police assigned to this case. But to everyone else, I’m your boyfriend until we find your sister.”

Cal almost laughed out loud as Deme Chattox’s mouth opened then closed before she gathered enough steam to blast him. He had his cover as a maintenance man nailed shut, having spent the past half hour with the Human Resources Department of the small college, charming everyone from the secretary to the woman who ultimately hired him. She’d explained it was only a temporary position until they could find another, more permanent replacement for their previous maintenance man.

He’d asked what happened to the man, but no one knew. He didn’t show up for work three weeks ago and hadn’t been back. No call, no resignation. Just disappeared. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a worried family calling to report him missing.

Cal didn’t like that. That made two disappearances in the past three weeks from the same campus. He didn’t believe in coincidence and placed a call to Martin Warner, the detective in charge of the case back at headquarters. Was the missing maintenance man responsible for Aurai Chattox’s disappearance? If not, was the same perp responsible for both the missing persons?

Now, sitting across the table from Deme Chattox, he drank his fill of the woman who’d managed to turn his world upside down in just the four short weeks they’d known each other. He hadn’t even realized she had sisters. She’d never told him. Apparently Deme was the oldest of the Chattox sisters. He wondered if Aurai was anywhere near as beautiful. It was hard to tell from the photograph he’d been given.

Deme’s long, auburn hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders and all the way down to her waist. A man could get lost in all that glorious hair. Her deep green eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights. Lights that normally made everyone else look ill made her pale skin seem only more ethereal. Beautiful women were natural targets for demented kidnappers and killers. “You don’t look anything like your sister, do you?”

“Not even close.” She pushed her hair behind her ear and sat up straighter. “I’m the redheaded Amazon of the family. Aurai’s the pale blonde, petite sister.” Her brows furrowed. “Now what’s this about being my boyfriend? I don’t need a boyfriend.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “Maybe not to you and me, but for everyone else on campus we need to be convincing.” He tipped his head up. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

Deme shook her head. “I can’t work with you. I work alone.” She leaned over the table toward him, the swell of her breasts visible above the figure-hugging, low-cut sweater she wore.

As if a hand had reached out and cranked up the thermostat, the air in the room heated. Cal resisted the urge to tug at his black T-shirt or shrug out of his jacket. As perspiration eased from his skin and his pants tightened uncomfortably, he frowned. He was not getting bothered by this woman with enough attitude to overwhelm most men, no matter how sexy she was in that skin-tight sweater.

He made it a strict habit to separate business from pleasure. No matter how pleasurable he had found her in the past. Despite the warnings going off in his head to refuse the assignment and run the other direction, Cal couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to her nearness. Certain parts refused to forget what it felt like to lie naked against her, to bury himself deep inside her warmth. “I need a cover so that we can talk and not raise suspicion. If you want my help finding your sister, you’re stuck with me as a boyfriend.”

She opened her mouth and closed it before words could spew forth. Then she leaned across the wooden tabletop and rested her hand on his, squeezing harder than typical for a lover’s affectionate grip. “Understand this. I’m only tolerating you because I want to find my sister. So, don’t get in my way.” She tipped her head to the side and gave him a saccharine-sweet smile. “Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” He turned his hand over and captured hers before she could withdraw. “I’m here to do my job. Either help me or go home. Understood, sweetheart?” His words were spoken in a deep, rich timbre, the tone soft and modulated like a caress. But the steely strength between the lines could not be missed.

Her luscious lips thinned. “Look, you’re too pretty. Working undercover requires a detective who can blend in. Sorry, you don’t blend. Do they have any other agents they can send?”

“No, I’m it. Besides, I’m the best.” He grinned, knowing it would set her off and added another jab, “So you really think I’m pretty?”

Deme sighed and resigned herself to having biker boy as her connection to the police force. “Look, if we’re stuck with each other, let’s just keep in mind what we’re after. We’re here to find my sister.”

“Naturally. Now, are you going to play nice and be my cover, or not?”

That frown was back, crinkling the bridge of her nose. “Okay, but don’t get any ideas. You’re not my type.”

“You made that abundantly clear last time we met.” With her hand still in his, he stood, bringing her to her feet. Then he tugged her hard enough to throw her off balance. The only place she could go was smack against his chest, again. “Besides, you’re not my type, either.” He pushed her hair behind her ear, thumbing her earlobe in a tender caress. “At least do a better job of faking that you like me.”

The rigid line of Deme’s spine slowly relaxed until she melted against him, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt instead of pushing him away. One hand slid around his backside, where it found its way into the pocket of his jeans. Using a surprising amount of strength, she slammed him hard against her, his cock nudging firmly against her pelvis. At the same time, she reached up with the other hand and slipped it around the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. Steady pressure brought his mouth closer to her lips until they were only a breath away.

She leaned close to his ear. “As your girlfriend, do I make you hot?”

Did she make him hot? At the warmth of her breath in his ear, Cal’s cock jerked beneath his zipper and his hands clenched around her arms. He wanted her. Wanted to plunge his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to get naked and have hot, juicy sex with her. His body remembered hers in ways that would make a virgin squirm.

Her lips dragged along his jawline until they reached his. For a moment she hovered over him, and then she pressed in for the finale, slanting her mouth over his, thrusting her tongue deep inside to slide across his. Her hips ground against his, teasing his engorged member, converting it to granite.

As quickly as it began, it ended and she stepped out of his arms and reach. Her brows rose and she smiled. “I can fake it with the best of them.”

For a moment, Cal breathed in and out. The teasing look in her eyes was enough to bring Cal back to his senses and stir him up all at once. Forcing a light tone into a voice he was sure would crack, he said, “That’s more like it. I’ll see you tonight. Your room.” With that, he left, inwardly cursing his momentary loss of control. Deme Chattox was a prop to get his job done. A prop, damn it. Anything they might have had in the past was just that…in the past. He was in charge of the inside investigation.

Once outdoors, he slipped his helmet over his head and fastened the buckle. As he slid onto the seat of his Harley, he could imagine sliding into Deme. He kicked the starter and the engine roared to life, rumbling beneath his still-hard cock. Oh, yeah, Deme Chattox was a hell of a ride. But that wasn’t the point.

From the moment he’d stepped into the student commons, he’d been drawn to her. Irresistibly. He’d had no intention of making her agree to be his girlfriend in order to provide himself additional cover for his investigation. Hell, he’d half convinced himself he could do the job without her help altogether. She could go home for all he cared.

Then what the hell had come over him? The idea was for Deme to help his investigation by infiltrating the Gamma Omegas, but at this point, Cal feared her presence would only distract him, in more ways than one.

He’d better get his mind in the game instead of on the sexy redhead he’d wanted to toss across the nearest table and make love to in front of God and everybody.

Chapter 3

Deme dumped her backpack on the narrow bed tucked against the wall in the tiny dorm room, the echo of her sister’s cry reverberating through her. Having met with Detective Cal Black hadn’t set her mind at ease, not when her lips still burned from his kiss. If anything, her meeting with the cop had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. Her overwhelming attraction to him couldn’t be natural. Not after their breakup over a year ago. Something wasn’t right.

Her aversion to the man had a basis. Every time she was near Cal, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus, couldn’t even claim every thought coming from her head was her own. He infiltrated her mind, body and life in a way that left her off balance, her world in a perpetual tilt. She’d kept her relationship with Cal separate from her sisters, and her special “talents” secret from Cal. How would he react if he’d known about her propensity for magic? Would he think her a freak or crazy?