“Can’t you just tell me if you know something?” Something about the predatory way the incubus looked at me, like I was his favorite meal, had my core tightening.
“I need an incentive.”
My jaw dropped. “Seriously? Can’t you just help me?”
“Quid pro quo, Raven.”
I was ninety-nine percent sure he’d just quoted a line from a creepy human serial killer movie Willow had made me watch on Samhain Eve two years ago. I’d had nightmares for months.
“Ugh. Fine!” Sitting in his lap was hardly a chore. Not when he looked hot enough to burn my retinas.
I awkwardly crawled across the bed while wishing I’d worn something less revealing. Tiny shorts and a vest top did nothing to hide anything. Especially my tits.
Zane’s eyes turned molten as I sat astride him. He grasped my hips and pulled me down so that the bulge between his thighs rested snugly against my needy pussy.
“Now what was it you wanted to know?” he asked while subtly rocking my body back and forth. Each minuscule movement pushed my arousal higher. The more I tried to scratch my itch, the brighter his pupils glowed.
Then I realized. The bastard was recharging his magic with my lust.
Knowing this wasn’t about me made me angry. How dare he use me!
“Stop it!”
He blinked in surprise before smirking. “Stop what, pet? I’m just getting comfortable.”
“Stop… using me! If you want to recharge your magic, go watch some horny shifters or something!”
He sat up and dug one hand into my messy hair while cupping my ass with the other. This pressed me harder into his erection, and I fought back a groan. Stars, the incubus was difficult to resist. Or maybe I had no willpower?
“I’m not using you, pet. I’m merely capitalizing on your need, which, for the record, is entirely mutual.” He leaned in and licked my neck, perilously close to Maverick’s mating mark. A shiver shot through me as my brain unhelpfully showed me a picture of Maverick under me and Zane behind me.
“You’re supposed to be giving me something helpful,” I choked out while trying to hold it together. Zane’s hand on my ass slid lower and squeezed while the other one moved to collar my throat. The gesture felt possessive. Worryingly so.
The incubus had no right to be possessive of me. Yes, our connection was undeniable, and I’d be insane not to feel the way the tether in my chest hummed when he was nearby. But it didn’t mean we needed to seal the bond. Or even that he wanted to.
I had no clue whether Zane cared about me beyond a superficial interest. He seemed closed off most of the time. An emotional desert. Possibly a psychopath.
“I am giving you something,” he purred while brushing his mouth over mine. “I’m giving you pleasure.”
This was getting me nowhere. Fighting my frustration, I shoved Zane’s hands back and scowled at him.
“I need a spell, Zane!”
“Okay, fine!” He rolled his eyes before tugging me closer again. “Montgomery has a collection of books in his office, including an old grimoire from the now-dead Hawthorne witches. There will probably be a spell in there. The Hawthornes were extremely powerful back in the day.”
“But Glynda said we can’t open grimoires that are not connected to us by blood.”
“She’s right, but there are no Hawthorne witches left, so the protection spell will have broken. It’s why Montgomery has the grimoire.”
“What happened to the last of the Hawthorne witches?” I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.
“The Salem witch trials happened, sweetheart. Jessa Hawthorne was the last daughter in her bloodline. She burned, like many other witches in the day.”
“Oh my stars, that’s awful!” Tears pricked my eyes. Being burned alive scared the living daylights out of me.
Zane shrugged. “So now that you know what you need, how do you plan on retrieving it? The headmaster has powerful wards on the storage room where he keeps his collection of books and other artifacts. Even I can’t teleport in there.”
My shoulders slumped. If Zane couldn’t break in, how was I supposed to retrieve the grimoire?
