Crimson Truth (Onyx Assassins 4)

“Quite,” he said, lost in his own thoughts. “But,” he said after a few moments. “I believe we’d know. They’ve been too well documented in their powers over the centuries.”

“So that leaves another witch or warlock then,” I said, sighing. I wanted a nap. A shower and a nap and maybe another handful of orgasms if I could tempt Benedict into crossing over that line again. “Which would line up with what Avi said about seeing a witch at wherever they’re holding her.”

“Good thing I came to your room for a reason,” Benedict said, and that made me sit up straight on my bed.

“Oh?” I said, suddenly recharged. Maybe I could muster the energy if he was so willing—

“It’s time for us to meet your sister and the others for the coven meetings,” he said, sliding those hands into his pockets.

My shoulders sank, every hope in me deflating. And I scolded myself for that disappointment. We needed to go to the meetings, needed to see if we could catch the witch who was betraying us. But I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling inside my chest, in the same spot that had Benedict’s name written all over it.

“Great,” I said, mustering all the courage I didn’t feel. “Time to sniff out a rat,” I said with a little more enthusiasm. If couldn’t find my friend, then I damn sure wanted to find the bitch who was betraying us and unleash all my pent-up rage on her instead.

I hurried into a fresh pair of clothes and boots while Benedict oh-so-politely waited outside my room like the gentleman he was. I couldn’t help but glare at him occasionally on the way over to my territory, wondering how the hell he could act so calm and causal around me. I mean, I’d been riding the man’s fingers not twenty-four hours ago, sucking his blood into my mouth like it was an overdue iced coffee. I was practically scissoring my legs in the seat of his car because his smell did nothing but make my center ache with need. The least he could do was release a ragged breath or flash me that hungry look of his. But no, perfectly collected Benedict would never do such a thing.

“Are you all right, little witch?” Benedict asked as I stomped up the stairs toward the palace.

“Fine,” I grumbled.

I so wasn’t. What if last night hadn’t affected him at all? What if it was just another night for him? And so, what? Why should that bother me so damn much? We hadn’t had sex, he’d merely made my world shake. He didn’t owe me anything, and I definitely didn’t owe him anything, but fucking hell, I wanted him so bad I almost hated him for it. Being around him had something in my blood reaching, tugging, begging for contact. And it wasn’t fair. Definitely not fair because he clearly wasn’t feeling the same thing.

“You look as if you’re trying to stomp through the hill instead of climb it,” he countered.

“Just want to find this traitor,” I said, which was true. “And Avi.” Also true.

He fell silent behind me, and I used the rest of the climb to get my head, heart, and body in line. Benedict was a passing infatuation and would surely be a good fuck. But nothing more. My emotions were all over the place because of my failing spells, the need to find my friend, and the need to stop a threat I couldn’t see. Nothing more.

I kept telling myself this after four hours of pointless coven meetings, where Mother was again not present, and Luna and I were left to deal out final rulings on minimal matters between covens. I wasn’t sure if Mother actually had business or if she was giving me some sort of test, but either way, I didn’t care.

It served my purposes.

Or didn’t, since Benedict had detected no liars among the Nightbarks, the Ravenblues, or the Thistlebatches.

I sank into one of the wooden chairs on one of the more private open decks after the meetings had ended, Luna retiring quickly to tend to palace affairs. Benedict elected to pace the length of the wooden railing, looking over the forest hugging every inch of the property.

“What covens would be powerful enough to throw off your tracking spell?” he asked, one hand poised on that deck railing.

I couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment from where I sat. Even in the crisp gray suit, he looked like he belonged right there in that spot. The rich green forest behind him, the gnarly tree trunk twisting its branches up through the wooden deck and beyond the railing behind him. He didn’t look like a vampire in witch territory, he looked like…

He looked like he owned witch territory, and something about that primal, dominating presence had all those feelings I’d buried ratcheting up again inside me. Pulsing, demanding, begging.