Bewitch Me: The Red Veil Diaries: A Witchy/Fae Romance Page 2

  Lane chuckled, licking lime juice from her thumb. “Looks like the idea of fantasies coming true isn’t just for humans.”

  “Jeez. Is he for real?”

  Lane tracked Eve’s line of sight, watching a hunkie Were walk to the bar and order. “Oh, honey. That is very real.”

  “Be still my throbbing vagina.”

  Lane stifled a laugh. “Throbbing? Good word.”

  “Shut up, Lane. You should talk.”

  “No, I’m serious. The Red Veil is a place for guilty pleasures. The important thing is to be in the moment, right here, right now. Partake of all kinds, human and supernatural alike.”

  Eve licked her lips. “I’d like to partake of him, right here, right now.”

  Lane hid her smirk behind her mug’s copper rim. She couldn’t blame the girl’s open-mouthed stare. There were panty-dropping hotties everywhere you looked. Perhaps the Veil’s vampire owners planned it that way. A new strategy to lure in fresh blood. More bang for the fang.

  “People should take a walk on the wild side from time to time. You should go for it, Eve.”

  The young witch jerked her eyes back to Lane. “And that’s code for what, exactly?”

  “To paraphrase Lady Gaga, when it comes to love, if it’s not rough it isn't fun.” She shrugged. “Keeps things interesting.”

  “I bet. From what I’ve seen so far, I’m sure it’s not hard to find a playmate.”

  Lane winked. “Easier still, if you have a certain magical skill set. Still, this isn’t just about finding a fuckboy for hot monkey sex. Some of the best underground bands play here before they hit it big. Plus, the Veil makes the best Moscow Mule in the city.”

  “Yeah, nice try.”

  “Seriously, Eve. Vampire lust aside, the club part of this place is straight up legit. Real bands, real booze, and real bouncers who love to get busy on anyone trying to color outside the lines. The undead allow plenty of tease, but no follow through when it comes to blood sport. At least not out in the open.”

  “Now that sounds interesting.” Eve scooted in, all ears.

  Lane shook her head.

  “Oh, c’mon. I know you know.”

  Lane shrugged, finishing her drink. “I do know, but that information is strictly on a need to know basis, and right now you don’t need to know.” She paused, letting a slow grin curve. “At least not until after you pass your initiation, little Raven.”

  “Party pooper.”

  They relaxed into the night, finally comfortable enough to enjoy the music and foreplay-in-motion out on the dance floor.

  Lights flashed and the band went into a cover of The Cure’s “Love Song.” Eve bopped in her chair to the beat, singing low and off key with the rest of the crowd.

  The simple lyrics spoke quiet volumes. Home again. Whole again. Lane closed her eyes. Those were anchors that eluded her, despite her magic. She never quite fit. Anywhere. At least not fully.

  Not since—

  She shook her head, dismissing the regret threatening to kill her buzz. Not here. Not now.

  The Red Veil was her perfect escape. A blend of macabre and ethereal beauty wrapped in a veil of raw need. Its notorious backrooms were another story, though. They were by invitation only, and the only place on premises where people went to lose themselves between blurred erotic lines.

  She’d been lucky to participate a few times, but there was no chance in hell they’d let a Fae-kissed witch and a coven initiate through those well-guarded doors tonight. No matter how eager.

  Still, backlash or not, backrooms or not, Eve seemed to enjoy herself, and that was the point. Lane lifted her empty mug in salute. “To the first of your many milestones, Eve—and to the Red Veil. Our little secret.”

  “Secret?” Eve pulled her martini back from the toast. “Why?”

  “Because it will cause a headache for me, and I don’t want to deal with a headache,” she explained without explaining

  No wonder Caitlan said this crop of initiates was more difficult than the ones any other year. Too many questions.

  “That makes no sense. Our coven is top heavy with females, Laney. And I don’t mean in a big titty city kind of way. The Circle of the Raven is New York’s motherhouse. As in the divine feminine. Read the subtext. It screams not enough men, in big capital letters.”

  “Don’t make me regret bringing you tonight, Eve. You’ve got to swear not to say a word to anyone. I’m serious. If Caitlan finds out I brought you here, forget guys hot enough to burn, she’ll break protocol and burn me at the stake. I’m already in her book as a bad influence. She’ll light the pyre with one angry look, and then dance on my ashes if she finds out.”

  Eve laughed. “Dramatic much? Caitlan’s not the kiss my ring type, so there must be a good reason you think she’d draw such a hard line. Maybe something to do with a bad influence’s guilty pleasures?”

  “Good witch or bad, it doesn’t make what I said any less true. The undead that run this joint haven’t exactly welcomed our kind, but truces are forming between unlikely supernaturals all over the place. Just look at the tentative peace between the Weres and the vampires. So, I figured why not?

  “That truce was born out of literal necessity, Lane. HepZ was horrible. We’re lucky the outbreak didn’t reach the witchy community. It would have wiped us out in weeks. Being afraid of Caitlan and her rules or the club and its consequences are not the same thing.”

  So much for relaxing in VIP comfort. The club and its consequences? The witchling really hadn’t a clue.

  “You said you’ve been cooped up studying for weeks.” Lane tried a different tack. “Blood Witch Lore is no joke. Back in the day, the only thing that kept my nose in the books was the guarantee of free-range magic once I passed.”

  “I know, but—”

  The Circle of the Raven was the most powerful coven in New York, and the reason their supreme was no joke. Eve’s obstinance was fallout from the stress of her initiation, but she’d rather deal with a rebellious Raven than their angry supreme any day.

  Caitlan, on the other hand, was slightly to the left of the Wicked Witch of the West when it came to initiates hitting the books. But all work and no play made for a sad practitioner. Eve needed a diversion. A two-legged and hung like a horse kind of diversion. Even if it meant taking Caitlan’s dagger-eyed stare.

  Eve went quiet again, watching the purple light cast shadows along the poured concrete dance floor. Ambient light set the club’s red boudoir feel to almost black. A perfect contrast to the bar’s shiny steel and chrome.

  “What does it feel like?” she asked, finally.

  “What does what feel like?”

  “To have all that power at your fingertips?”

  Lane dug for the lime at the bottom of her mug, plopping it in her mouth. She chewed on the tart fruit before putting the rind on her napkin.

  “You have power now, Eve. It’s part of your DNA. An initiation simply assures the coven you’re ready to wield it properly. Controlling your power instead of it controlling you. You’ll find out what I mean soon enough. In the meantime, why not put some of what you studied into practice?”

  “But—”

  “Pfft.” Lane dismissed the halfhearted argument. “You need a break, Eve. Why else do you think I risked my ass bringing you here, if not to try out some of your tricks?” She shrugged. “Who’s going to know? And since I can’t stop you from blabbing, at least there’ll be something to show for my trouble.”

  “Wow, you make me sound like a brat.”

  “Well, if the broom fits, ride it.”

  “Hey!”

  Lane chuckled. “Seriously. Do something for yourself tonight. I would, if I were you. In fact, I have. Many, many times. That shifter at the bar is yours for the taking. Hell, if I can smell the pheromones pouring off you, you know he certainly does.

  “Well, Miss Ovaries Exploded? Do your stuff. Make eye contact and hold. Imagine the taste of his mouth. The way his fingers feel on your skin
. Trust me, Eve. If you’re in control, tonight might be a night you never forget.”

  Eve spared a glance for the handsome Were. “You think? I’ve never done anything like this before. I mean, he’s definitely worth straddling six ways to Sunday, but—”

  “No buts. We’re not playing by the rules tonight. Focus your gaze and will him to turn. Once he does, he’s yours. Go for it.”

  Taking a breath, Eve nodded. She stared at the man’s back until his hand rose to the nape of his neck. When he turned, she locked eyes with his and mumbled a soft spell. In seconds, he picked up his drink and headed toward them.

  “Holy shit! It actually worked.” She swallowed hard. “What do I do now?”

  “Don’t break eye contact. When he stops at the table, you speak first. Tell him what you want and then visualize it happening. He’ll get the picture in vivid detail once you put it in his mind.”

  The shifter stopped at Eve’s chair with a confused look on his face. He stood holding his drink but didn’t say anything.

  Eve kept eye contact, but Lane had to smack her on the arm to get her to breathe. “Uhm, that looks interesting. What are you drinking?”

  He blinked, but then glanced at the long neck in his hand. “It’s called a Purple Haze. The brewery is in Louisiana.”

  Lane had to look away. Spelled or not, the boy didn’t seem the sharpest knife in the drawer.

  “I bet,” Eve added. “The Mardi Gras funeral skeleton on the label is really cool.”

  He licked his lips but didn’t say anything else.

  “Are you visiting New York?” She bit her lip against a nervous giggle. “I’m Eve, by the way.” She held out her hand, stifling a quick gasp when he folded her fingers into his palm.

  “No, I’m from Long Island City. I’m Mason—” He paused, shaking his head. “You know, I’m not exactly sure how I ended up talking to you. One minute I’m sipping my beer at the bar, and the next nothing mattered except meeting you.” He hesitated again, but this time with a smile. “Not that I’m sorry.”

  “Me neither,” she replied. “You know—” She leaned in, giving him an eyeful of cleavage. “I love this place. The music rocks, and I really love to dance. You?”

  A slow, grin tugged at the shifter’s mouth. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “So, do you like to dance?”

  Eve murmured something more, and Mason’s semi-perplexed look changed to a hungry stare. She nearly choked.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more.” He chuckled then, rubbing a finger under his full bottom lip. “Actually, that’s not true. If I told you what ran through my mind when I walked over, you’d slap me.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “No, that good. As in X-rated good.” Mason hesitated again. “Look, I’m not always this forward. Not unless it’s a full moon.” He exhaled, still unsure. “I can’t explain it, but I can’t fight it, either.” His gaze flicked from her face to her deep décolleté. “Not that I’d want to…God, you look good enough to eat.”

  She laughed. “Don’t tell me. Wolf, right?”

  “Howl you doing?” he replied, cracking a grin. “So, you’re one of us, then. At least, I hope so. It’ll save time explaining the unexplainable.”

  “We are—” Lane quietened a laugh. “Same tree, different branch, though.”

  “Mason, this is my friend—”

  “Lane,” she interjected. “Who was just about to head to the bar.”

  “Laney, no—”

  With a dismissive wave, Lane pushed herself from her chair. “I’ll be back. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Ha. That leaves things wide open, Miss I like to play rough sometimes.”

  Mason raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two witches. “Wow. And I thought tonight was going to be a bust. Lucky me. Two for the price of one.”

  He took a step back, giving Eve another suggestive look before sliding some of that steam to where Lane stood.

  “Hold up, cowboy.” Lane raised an eyebrow, shutting him down.

  Eve’s projection clearly overshot the mark. Either that or the horndog was truly as thick as a brick. Three was definitely not company, no matter what wolf boy thought.

  “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick here, pup. So, unless you want to end up with a permanent tail, I suggest you keep your eye on one prize.” She glanced at Eve. “Or do I need to conjure a rolled-up magazine and whack you on the nose?”

  Mason burst out laughing.

  “I think this was my bad.” Eve winced, mouthing sorry to Lane.

  “No worries, babe. I still make out the winner tonight.” He lifted Eve’s hand to his lips, skimming her knuckles. “Besides, I’m dying to see if the images in my head match what I see in your eyes.”

  Lane’s phone buzzed and she dug in her back pocket, saved by the cell. “Shit. It’s Caitlan.” She made a face at the name on caller I.D. Their supreme had precognition, but damn she was good.

  “What should I do?” Eve asked.

  Lane waved the two of them down. “I have to take this or Caitlan will materialize or worse. Drinks are on me. Just don’t go anywhere until I get back.” Turning on her heel, she pressed accept call.

  “Caitlan?” She kept her tone light, plugging her opposite ear as she walked from the table. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m out, why?”

  “Out where?”

  Lane peered around a chrome pillar only to see Eve walking with Mason down the VIP stairs toward the dance floor.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  “Funny how one word can give so much away. What are you up to, missy?”

  Lane frowned, turning her attention to the call. “Caitlan, did you call just to annoy me? I told you I’m out. I’m not one of your initiates, so go hound them.”

  “I would, but they’re nowhere to be found. If this is one of your stunts, Lane Alden—”

  “What makes you think missing initiates have anything to do with me?” She exhaled. “You know what, don’t answer that. While I appreciate the backhanded vote of confidence that I could organize a Coven coup de grâce, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Caitlan. Your girls are doubtless holed up somewhere with a pizza and a cheap bottle of wine. That’s what my friends and I did before our initiation.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  Lane scooted around the edge of the bar, trying to keep Eve in sight. “Caitlan, stop worrying. Your witchlings are all of age. If they needed to blow off a little steam, so what? Their test is at the end of the week. Every one of them will show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for their Dawning Ceremony. Have you ever known a Raven to miss their moment?”

  “No, but—”

  “Exactly,” Lane shot back, watching Mason and Eve give each other a tongue bath on the dance floor. “Look, I have to go.”

  “Wait, Lane—please.”

  That got her attention. She didn’t hang up, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what prompted their usually hard-assed supreme to be so imploring.

  “You there?” Caitlan prompted.

  Lane chewed on her lip. “I’m here. What’s going on, Caitlan?”

  “I need to talk with you.” The supreme hesitated. “About a blood rite.”

  “A blood rite? You can’t be serious. Why?”

  “Word reached me about an hour ago. It’s why I’m so frantic. There’s an Unseelie in the city.”

  “Caitlan, there are any number of Sidhe, Seelie and Unseelie, in the city at any given time. Why is this a cause for alarm?”

  “This one is a rogue, and he’s looking to claim anyone with Fae-kissed blood.”

  “Claim? How? Why?” Lane sank into the nearest chair. “What did you hear?”

  “There was an incident in the Dark Court. Some sort of power struggle or failed coup against the Unseelie king. I don’t know all the details, but the Sidhe responsible was banished, accused of scandal. The price for him to
regain his place at court is to seize a Fae-kissed witch and return with them to Faerie.”

  Caitlan’s words came in a frustrated rush. Lane raked a hand through her long blonde hair. “For what purpose? I’ve never heard such a thing.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Caitlan exhaled on the other end of the phone. “Anyway, the why of it doesn’t matter. We must do something. Dark Sidhe aren’t known for kindness.”

  “Against humans. Not against their own.”

  Caitlan grunted, and the sound was both resentful and weary. “Despite the trace in our blood, we’re not Fae. No court has ever claimed our lineage. In their eyes, Fae-kissed witches are a humiliation, only slightly better than humans. Maybe that’s part of the so-called scandal.”

  The supreme was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I have no other choice, Lane. I am recalling all coven members to the motherhouse. Speculation is of no use, and we’re wasting time. We need to protect our own, and the best way to do that is a lockdown and a blood rite. So, if you know the whereabouts of any of our initiates—” The leader of the Circle of the Raven didn’t need to finish.

  “I understand.”

  “Good.” Caitlan paused again. “And Laney—”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful, honey.”

  The supreme’s voice softened, and for a moment it held the same gentleness Lane remembered from when she came to the motherhouse as a child. She had no memory of what came before, but all Fae-kissed witches were destined for the Circle of the Raven, and despite the supreme’s penchant for discipline, Caitlan did everything she could to make their transition seamless and natural for every witchling.

  Still, Lane was no longer a child, and over the years had given Caitlan and the other elders a run for their money. A black sheep.

  “Lane, are you listening?”

  She coughed. “Yeah…sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “Good. Despite you’re reckless nature, you’re a clever cookie. I know you don’t usually like to play by the rules, but in this instance, you need to remember everything I taught you about the Sidhe to keep yourself, and whoever is with you, safe—at least until you’re securely behind motherhouse doors. A rogue like this will do anything to regain their position at court. Shapeshift. Even kill.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”