She’d not slept well though she’d fallen into bed exhausted. How could she? Her dreamworld had been invaded by dark, erotic dreams. Dreams so intense she was sure they’d make Mr. Sandman blush.
She closed her eyes, flushed and aroused at images of Azaiel naked, his hard, lean, muscled body shifting in the shadows. Of his tongue inside her mouth, his lips on her breasts and throat. Of his hands everywhere. Of taut skin, of masculine smells, and moans of pleasure.
Rowan had never been so insanely attracted to a man before. She exhaled and ran her fingers through the tangled mess of hair that tickled her chest and bit her lip as she continued to gaze at her sad-looking toes.
The ache between her legs hadn’t lessened at all—in fact it was making her crazy. She swore and clenched her thighs together in an effort to alleviate it but to no avail. If anything, the throb increased, and a whimper fell from her lips.
Not fair. Had that Alexis bitch thrown some extra mojo her way? Created a thundercloud of desire that wouldn’t abate until she had Azaiel right where she wanted him? Between her legs. Inside her body.
She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to her feet. A shower was what she needed. A long, cold shower.
Half an hour later, she was towel drying her hair when a knock sounded.
“Rowan.”
It was Abigail. She crossed the room and yanked her bedroom door open. Her cousin stood there, hand in the air, about to knock once more.
A streak of soft orange ran past the two of them and jumped onto the bed. The small tabby issued a sad, pathetic meow toward Rowan as it turned in a circle and began kneading the coverlet.
“Holy crap, Ro, you look like shit.”
Rowan made a face—if she were ten again, she’d stick out her tongue—but stood back so that her cousin could slide past.
“Wow, this is like walking down memory lane. Your bedroom hasn’t changed at all. Gosh, the stool is still next to your window. I remember sneaking in late once and I missed it and nearly broke my neck.” She paused and looked around. “We had some good times.”
“Yes, well . . .” Rowan didn’t know what to say. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I guess Nana Cara doesn’t use this for her guests.”
Pain stabbed Rowan in the chest, but she shook her head and tried to keep it together. “No. She doesn’t . . . didn’t.”
Abigail bit her lip and nodded silently, her large, round eyes as blue as Rowan’s. Her long blond hair was much like Hannah’s except the ends were dyed purple, and she had several interesting piercings in her nose, ears, and one bright pink stud in her eyebrow. Her features were pale, elfin almost, and delicate, but her mouth was generous and at the moment trembling.
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Abigail was dressed in tattered jeans and a tight white T-shirt that said MOTLEY CRUE. The girl hadn’t changed at all. Funny thing was, that used to be Rowan. Wild. Unpredictable. Devil-may-care. But California had changed her. School had changed her, and yet she’d managed to slip into her old skin without breaking a sweat. What did that say about her?
Rowan tossed the towel toward her bathroom and walked to the window. She gazed down at a sight that was not only sobering, it was impressive. The entire coven had gathered, and judging from the ragtag assortment of vehicles, sporting plates from several neighboring states, every last one of them had answered t
he call. All of them here to fight for her.
Did they realize how dangerous it was out there?
Her chest tightened, and she thumped her palm against the uncomfortable sensation. A lump had formed at the back of her throat, and she struggled to swallow.
“Hannah told me that Kellen and that sweet piece of ass you’ve been hiding left together.”
“I’m not hiding Azaiel. I barely know the man.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rowan glared at Abigail. “They’ve gone to retrieve the grimoire.”
Abigail was silent for a moment. “Sounds dangerous.”
The worry that sat at the back of Rowan’s throat tasted like crap. She swallowed and shook her head. She didn’t want to think about the danger. About how the thought of her brother and Azaiel in danger made her want to hit something.
“They’re big boys. They’ll be fine.” I hope.
“You’re right.” Abigail flopped onto the bed and scratched the tabby behind its ears. Its little body thrummed loudly as it purred and moved closer to her cousin. “So we were pretty busy last night.”