I just want to talk to my mother.
“Goetia involves conjuring demons to carry out acts for you,” Jacques goes on.
“You weren’t kidding on the dark part. I’m guessing there’s a catch.”
Jacques gives me a wry smile. “There’s always a catch, and demons always want something in return.” He steps closer and my heart lurches. “It’s not something you want to get involved in.”
I run my eyes down his bare, muscular chest, stopping at the waistband of the athletic pants he’s wearing. He was surprised at how comfortable and light the fabric was when he put them on, and it was oddly endearing. There are so many things I take for granted here in this century.
He reaches out, fingertips brushing over the top of my shoulder. A chill runs through me, but instead of making me feel cold, it sparks a fire along my spine, heating me up from the inside out.
Jacques brushes my hair behind my shoulder and runs his hand down the length of my arm, stopping at my fingers. Gently, he intertwines his with mine, and inches closer. Intense feelings of love and desire threaten to take over, and I struggle to separate them from what I’m really feeling.
I like Jac.
I’m attracted to him.
I’d very much like to feel his arms around me, have his lips press against mine, and have his cock thrust into me.
He’s looking at me the same way, but I wonder if he’s looking at me and seeing her. Braeya. The woman who cast love spells on him, messed with his heart and head, and ultimately, was the reason all four of the guys got cursed to be the way they are.
My eyes fall shut and I bring my head down, resting it against Jacques’s chest. Slowly, he slides his arm around me, resting his hand on the small of my back. My heart lurches. I bring my free hand up, feeling the small ridge of scar tissue on his side. Everything inside me is on fire.
His other hand settles on my waist, and he shuffles closer, widening his legs. I move in, needing to feel more of him against me. He moves his head down, parting his lips. Goosebumps break out along my arms, and my heart starts to pound.
“You should run before it gets too late,” he whispers, fingers digging into my flesh. He’s fighting his feelings toward me, or at least his attraction. I don’t know why, and it’s getting harder and harder not to feel hurt by it.
I swallow my pounding heart, not ready to move away. “Do you want to come with me?”
He brings his head down, nuzzles his lips against my flesh. “Why run when I can fly?”
His breath is warm against my neck and his words make me smile. “True. If I could fly I probably wouldn’t go for a run in this heat either.”
“Be careful out there.”
“I will be.” Lifting my head, I look into his eyes and see the longing and desire reflected back at me. I’m tempted to kiss him, to be the one to make the first move and just see what happens. As if he can read my mind—again—he moves away, picking up the grimoire and going back to the table.
“I’ll keep watch tonight,” he says, voice strained. Taking the notebook and the grimoire with him, he goes out the back and takes off into the night.
Trying to shake off the feelings he gave me, I take another drink of cold water and head outside, stopping on the cobblestone path leading to the driveway for some light stretching.
Hasan jumps from the roof, gracefully sailing down to the ground next to me.
“The usual path tonight?” he asks, looking out at the street.
“Yeah,” I say, and pull one arm across my body. “Though I probably won’t go as far. It’s pretty damn hot out, but I need to run. Either that or hit someone,” I grumble, and pull my hair up into a ponytail.
He gives me a grin. “Hit me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think you can take me?”
“IknowI can take you.”
Rolling my neck, I move back and take on a defensive stance. “Come at me, bro.”
“Bro?” He cocks his head to the side.
“Never mind.” Using the distraction to my advantage, I take the first swing and almost get Hasan right in the face. He ducks out of the way at the last minute and blocks my blow before turning on me and sending one my way.
