In fact, it seemed to be coming directly from her, which he knew was impossible. Every were and vampire, even warlocks, had been trained and trained well to scent a witch because most of the times, they were trying to kill them. Vivienne was no witch. He thought of the possibility of druids before dismissing it. No druids had walked the earth for centuries, after being locked away for wreaking absolute havoc on mortals and immortals alike.
Vivienne shifted slightly, and Conall’s hand splayed across her belly as he quickly restrained her. Because he’d pinned her, she was still locked to him, and would be unable to move for some minutes.
As she settled once more, he returned to his thoughts. It could be a spell, something cast when she was younger, without her knowledge, or done to her recently. Witches and druids were the only creatures who spun spells and curses. Anger ran through his body as he thought of someone casting something against his mate. Vivienne jerked against him, and Conall remembered that he was still in her mind. Pulling away easily, so as not to jar her awake, he rubbed his hand soothingly against her torso.
She murmured something he didn’t catch, and he continued his ministrations. Why would someone curse her? As his mind worked the possibilities, Vivienne slept peacefully in his arms.
***
The sounds were coming from behind Drew’s closed door.
Max had just arrived back at the apartment after two encounters with his boss that had made him consider quitting, and the sight that greeted him made him pause. Around the dining table were two empty plates, which contained the remnants of an evening dinner. It was just before seven, and he briefly wondered if Vivienne’s boss had actually let her leave early, before the sound of giggling touched his ears. Although he found it strange, Max thought that Vivienne had a friend or colleague over. He was standing before her door, about to knock and meet this mystery friend, when he recognized two things: the laughter was coming from Drew’s room and the voice he’d heard was very male.
Max took quick steps over to Drew’s door, knocked, and without waiting for a response, pushed the door open.
Drew sat at her desk and swiveled her chair to face him. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. She’d curled her braids, and some caressed her face while others swept down her back. And was she wearing makeup?
His gaze was drawn to the man who lay on the bed. He looked comfortable, as if he’d been there before. His arms were spread eagled about her comforter, and his head was atop a colorful throw pillow as he lay on his belly, watching her. The man rolled over and sat up when Max marched in, and then he looked to Drew. She sent him a placating smile and stood, heading over to Max.
“What are you doing in my room?” Her voice was calm and to anyone else, it might have even sounded friendly. He sent her a withering glare, which she returned.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked curtly, looking back to the guy sitting on her bed before lifting one brow. It was a challenge, one that any man understood.
“Jonathan,” he began in a deep voice, before pushing his legs to the edge of the mattress and standing. He walked over to where Max stood, and gently moved Drew to the side. Extending his hand, he smiled in what some might call a charming way, and said, “Jonathan Rashard.”
Max’s glare never softened as he took in the man before him. He was about a few inches shorter, with a richly tanned complexion, and a very recent fade. He guessed some girls would find him attractive, too. He looked accusingly at Drew, whose arms were now crossed below her breasts. Max did a double take and blinked, his eyes attached to her chest.
What the hell is she wearing?
Drew was nicely rounded, with full breasts, a small waist, and flaring hips. She was built like a pin-up girl, only slightly thinner and taller, and she certainly did not need to be flaunting herself in that tight and revealing V-neck shirt! And where were the sleeves on that thing? It was October, not August!
His eyes lifted to hers. She stared at him curiously, and he knew she’d caught him staring at her breasts.
“Isn’t it a bit chilly for that shirt?” He regretted the question the moment it left his lips because her eyes hardened and her lips pursed tightly.
“Isn’t it a bit rude to walk into someone’s bedroom without being invited?”
Jonathan pulled his hand back and pushed it into his pocket, staring at them peculiarly.
“I knocked,” Max corrected. “If you weren’t so busy,” he paused and looked at Jonathan, who lifted a brow as he did so, “you might have heard it.”
“Funny. If you weren’t so rude you would have waited—”