WARLOCK_His Coven. His Magick. His Soulmate. Read online

"I'm the only one who understands me, Gladys," he quipped, turning to look at the pretty blonde waitress. "Anyone causing trouble?"

  "They never do. I don't know how you manage to keep this place so safe."

  "Yes, you do," he said with wink.

  "Okay, yes I do, but it's still impressive."

  "Thanks. Now I think it's time for me to go back upstairs," he said, but as he casually cast his eye across the bar, a young woman sipping a martini caught his attention. She looked out of place. She wasn't dressed for clubbing, and she certainly didn't look happy.

  "She showed up about five minutes ago," Gladys remarked. "I've never seen her before."

  "Since when did you become a mind reader?"

  "Since I saw you ogling her."

  "I wasn't ogling her."

  "Fine."

  "I wasn't."

  "You're the boss."

  "Okay, maybe I was looking at her, but don't you find it curious? She's by herself, and she's not dressed for this place."

  "You mean, she's not dressed for a meet and fuck."

  "Yes, Gladys, that's what I meant, but must you be so crass?" he scolded, raising his eyebrows. "You know how I feel about foul language."

  "Stop being so judgmental. I know what you get up to in that VIP lounge."

  "Don't you have customers waiting?"

  "I suppose."

  "Are you looking to be spanked?"

  "By you, any time."

  "I'll have Tannen do the honors,"

  "Never mind. I'll go serve."

  "And you'll behave?"

  "Yes, sir, I'll behave," she said, and picking up her tray, she headed into the crowd.

  Sending his eyes back to the girl at the end of the bar, he struck his favorite pose. Elbow on the cushioned edge, head resting on his hand.

  His eyes darkened.

  He zoomed in.

  Pale skin. She doesn't like the sun.

  Salon nails. She cares about her appearance.

  He sniffed.

  Hair recently washed. Citrus shampoo. No perfume.

  She suddenly raised her eyes, but she didn't look back at the crowd, or try to catch the bartender's eye.

  "You're not looking at anything, are you my pretty bird?" he mumbled. "From what nest have you flown? Has a man hurt you?"

  Though intercourse with humans was strictly forbidden, women sometimes surrendered to his dominant skill. He was unable to offer his heart or his cock, but he genuinely cared for them, and he made sure they knew it.

  The witches though. Witches were difficult.

  A sound spanking would keep them in line for only a few days, but even the witches had his respect and adoration. Laszio loved females, and they felt it. He loved the way they moved. He loved their bodies, their hair, their capriciousness. He was mystified by the lure they held, but mostly he was protective, and as he approached the sad girl at the end of the bar, he sensed she had been victimized. He wanted to understand, and if possible, he wanted to help. The barstool next to her was empty, but an urgent message from Tannen abruptly blasted through his head.

  Anton is in your office. You need to come now.

  Anton was his nephew and had been banned from the club for a month. Normally Laszio wouldn't have hesitated, but as he gazed at the young woman, he felt an intense need to go to her.

  Hurry. He's brandishing a sword.

  Laszio knew he had to go, but an invisible force was making it extremely difficult.

  She turned her head and looked back at him.

  Her eyes were deep blue, almost violet.

  A spark lit up his heart, his body prickled, and he realized he'd stopped breathing.

  Where are you?

  Tannen's frantic voice broke the spell, and taking a breath, Laszio silently sent a message to the bartender.

  The sad girl drinking a martini. Do what you must to keep her here.

  Then moving swiftly from the bar, he hurried through the crowd towards the stairs.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Elwyn, a talented young warlock Laszio thought showed great potential, had taken over the door for Tannen.

  "I'm so glad you're here," Elwyn exclaimed. "Anton is screaming and trashing your office. Tannen can't get him under control."

  "Is everyone safe in the lounge?"

  "Yes. They all know what's happening and I haven't let anyone else in."

  "Good job. Don't worry, I'll straighten this out," Laszio said reassuringly, and moving swiftly down the hall, he found Tannen waiting outside his office door.

  "He came in through the fire escape," Tannen exclaimed. "I don't know how, but he did."

  "That's impossible."

  "Apparently not," Tannen frowned, "and it's worrying. I'll investigate, but hopefully he'll tell you."

  "I don't hear anything."

  "No, he's gone quiet now. Maybe he sensed you coming."

  "Maybe, but he's not the most talented warlock in the coven, and being crazed would dull him even more. You'd better get the cage ready."

  "The cage?"

  "Anton has always been rebellious, but this is extreme. Until we know what's going on he should be secured, for all our sakes."

  "You're right. I'll get on it."

  As Tannen moved quickly away, Laszio pushed open his office door. His nephew was holding a large gleaming sword, but it was at his side and Anton wasn't moving. Laszio surveyed the mess, then sent him a stern gaze.

  "Explain yourself."

  "I don't need to tell you anything."

  "Are you really so foolish? You know if you don't cooperate I'll have to put you in the cage. It's being prepared as we speak."

  "You'll have to catch me first," Anton spat, raising the glistening sword.

  "I'm not impressed."

  "Take it from me, I dare you."

  "No."

  "No?" Anton repeated, his voice suddenly changing. "What do you mean, no?"

  "I don't want to take your sword. I just want to know what's behind all these theatrics. You're being ridiculous—and you're wasting my time."

  Laszio had delivered the last five words with an icy chill, and for the first time he felt a quiver of fear from his nephew.

  '"Fine. I'll leave the sword and go."

  "No."

  "NO? You want me to keep the sword? But I'm surrendering. Isn't that what you want?"

  "I've made it clear what I want, and it's not your sword. Tell me why you're here!"

  "I, uh, I was pissed off. You banned me."

  It was a lie, and shaking his head, Laszio moved towards him.

  "Anton! You know very well lies do not sit well with me. The sword can keep you company while you're in the cage."

  "The cage? You'd put your nephew in the cage?"

  "My nephew! You say that as if your connection to me offers favor. It does not. You broke into my building, then dared to enter my office and do this," he exclaimed, waving his arm at the chaos around him. "Now you're refusing to tell me why. What would you suggest? I pat you on the head and tell you what a good little warlock you've been? Fingers of Anton, hear me now, stick to the sword, you know how."

  As Anton's knuckles turned white, he stared up at Laszio in confounded surprise.

  "But, but…"

  "But what?"

  "I was supposed to be protected from you."

  "Really? And who gave you this supposed protection?"

  "I, uh, I can't tell you."

  "Then you give me no choice. I must protect the coven. You'll be kept in the cage until I can find out what's behind all this."

  "You don't understand what will happen if I tell you," Anton said frantically. "Please, uncle, you must believe me. I can't speak the name."

  "Anton, my body is youthful, but I am an old soul," Laszio said sternly, walking across the room and standing directly in front of him. "I have powers you cannot begin to imagine. You overestimated whoever is behind this, and you have underestimated me. Had you put your trust in me I would have kept you safe."
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  "You mean it's too late?"

  "Are you going to tell me who gave you that sword and sent you here?"

  "I'm scared."

  "You shouldn't get involved in things beyond your understanding. Tell me what's going on, and tell me now."

  "Can I think about it?"

  "You asked me if it was too late. It's never to late, but now you must be taught a lesson. I gave you three chances. You know that's the limit."

  "The cage is ready, Laszio," Tannen declared, walking into the office, then paused, staring at the shambles. "What a mess."

  "He goes in for the night."

  "Please, Uncle Laszio, I'm sorry."

  "What about the sword?" Tannen asked.

  "It stays with him. Cloak of impotence, shroud this sinner. Make him powerless, a rank beginner," then silently added, Let him learn his lesson, but come to no harm, and in the cage, let his state be calm.

  "When will I be able to move my hands?"

  "When it's time to take off your clothes. Tannen, I'll leave him with you. I need to get back downstairs."

  "Come along, Anton," Tannen said sternly, walking up to him and gripping his elbow. "The cage will keep you safe and punish you at the same time."

  Knowing Anton was in good hands, Laszio hurried down the hall and down the stairs, but when he reached the bar, to his great dismay he found the girl was gone.

  "Byron, I told you to keep her here," he said as the bartender approached.

  "I know. Can we have a private word in the back? Tomas is here to cover for me."

  "Of course," Laszio replied, and walking around the bar, he pushed through the swinging doors that led into the storeroom.

  "It was weird," Byron declared. "I cast the sticky spell, but it had no effect."

  "That's impossible, unless she's a witch, but I didn't feel that, not at all."

  "I brushed my hand against hers. The energy I touched was human."

  "Did she say anything?"

  "When she finished her martini, I offered her another one on the house, but she turned me down. Then I offered her food, and she turned that down too. When she started to leave I threw out a tripping spell, but that didn't work either. It was terrible for my ego."

  "I can imagine." Laszio muttered. "Did she pay with a credit card?"

  "No, that was the other thing. She paid cash. No name, no nothing, except…"

  "What?"

  "I managed to unzip her bag and get this," Byron said proudly. His jacket was hanging on the coat rack, and reaching into the pocket, he produced a pink, silk scarf. "It has a strong scent. You should be able to get something from it."

  "You just got yourself a raise! How did you manage it without her noticing? You obviously didn't use a spell."

  "She'd put it in her bag on the counter when she sat down, and stuffed the scarf inside it. Opening the zipper with a spell was no problem, then I pointed to something on the dance floor. When she turned to look, I slipped my hand in and pulled it out."

  "Very clever!"

  "I liked her, and I've never met a human with a shield like she has. It's intriguing."

  "At the very least," Laszio remarked, taking the scarf from Byron's hands. "I'm not feeling anything. It doesn't appear to be charmed—although—I'm sensing her presence."

  "Excuse me," Tomas said, poking his head in. "Byron, did anyone hand in a pink scarf? There's a woman here looking for one."

  "Wow. Is that you, or the scarf?" Byron asked.

  "I either have a connection to her, or the scarf acted like a conduit," Laszio said softly. "Tomas, tell her it was turned in and someone is fetching it. And offer her a drink."

  "Will do."

  "I was hoping she'd come back for it, but I didn't think it would be so soon," Byron remarked. "I thought maybe tomorrow sometime."

  "Before I meet her I want to see what I can pick up," Laszio murmured, closing his eyes and holding it to his nose.

  Pushing past the artificial scents, he sought out the smell that was uniquely hers. It began to make itself known, and immersing himself in the rich feminine fragrance, he knew he would soon be able to visualize her aura, then he would—

  A strange sensation suddenly washed through him, and an image of a purple rainbow filled his head. His heart was hammering, and a wave of dizziness sent his head reeling. Lowering the scarf, he waited for it to pass, then slowly opened his eyes.

  "Um, Laszio, are you all right?" Byron asked hesitantly.

  It was a rare question. Laszio was the most powerful warlock on the Earth, directly descended from the ancient ones. He controlled the covens that crisscrossed the planet, and had an army of lieutenants with whom he telepathically communicated. He was Laszio Grigore. Leader of the warlocks and witches who followed the light, and keeper of The Book of Spells and Secrets.

  "Ye asks this of me why?"

  Byron cringed. Laszio's voice had taken on the speech of his ancestors. It was the voice that sometimes surfaced when he was presiding over a coven and dealing with matters of great importance. It was also the voice that surfaced when he was connecting with his great power.

  "Uh, your eyes," Byron said nervously. "They've changed color."

  "Darken they grow when certain senses are summoned."

  "Yes, sir," Byron replied, thinking he should honor Laszio with the title. "That's the thing. They're not dark. They're light. I've never seen them so light, and you're speaking in the ancient way."

  Laszio frowned. He had been aware of his speech, but his eyes…

  "A mirror," Laszio muttered as a tingling chill rattled through his limbs. "Where is there a mirror?"

  "Above the sink on the other side of those crates."

  Walking swiftly around the boxes, Laszio reached the looking glass and gazed at his reflection. His eyes were hazel, with tiny specks of yellow and green.

  "Is it possible?" he mumbled. "I must consult the book. I must be sure."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Vanya Delaney was trying very hard to be patient, but patience wasn't something she was good at even at the best of times. She'd only slipped into the nightclub because she'd wanted to hide. That, and she'd needed a drink, but the noise had begun to bother her. Downing her martini she'd headed off, and it was only when she stepped outside and reached for her scarf that she'd discovered it was gone.

  Panic had seized her.

  The scarf was precious. It had been her grandmother's, and her great-grandmother's, possibly even her great-great grandmother's. She wasn't sure how old it was, but it was a family treasure. It had been handed down from the eldest daughter to the eldest daughter for eons, and even after centuries it looked almost new, something she found remarkable. Losing it was unimaginable. She'd retraced her steps, praying it hadn't fallen under the many dancing feet, and reaching the bar she'd frantically searched the area around the barstool. Having no luck, and about to burst into tears, she'd asked the bartender if he'd seen it.

  Then a miracle happened.

  He told her it had been found, then offered her a drink compliments of the club while she waited. A moment later, gratefully lifting the glass to her lips, she couldn't stop her hand from shaking.

  "I believe this is yours."

  The voice was smooth and deep, immediately making her think of rich dark chocolate, and raising her eyes, she found herself staring at the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. His dark brown hair was long and glimmering, he had facial hair, something she generally didn't care for, but on him it looked sexy as hell. And his clothes! He was dressed in a white billowing sleeved shirt, and a black and gold vest. It was completely unique, and undeniably him.

  But his eyes!

  His eyes were mesmerizing.

  They were dark amber-brown, and they seemed to be looking right through her.

  "My scarf!" she exclaimed, overcome with relief as she took it from him. "Thank you so much! I've been absolutely frantic."

  "It's special?"

  "Very," she replied, carefully pla
cing it in her bag and closing the zipper. "It's a family heirloom. I'm sure I closed this bag when I put it away. I don't understand how this happened. It couldn't have fallen out."

  "Perhaps when you pulled out your wallet to pay for your drink it got caught, then fell away."

  "Maybe, but I'm sure I would have noticed. I'm just so relieved someone turned it in."

  "Do you mind if join you?"

  "No, in fact I'd like that. I'm still a bit rattled."

  "Hopefully I'll be able to un-rattle you," he said with a smile. "I'm Laszio Grigore."

  "Nice to meet you. Vanya Delaney, and if your last name is Grigore, does that mean you're the owner of this restaurant? Or do you call it a club?"

  "It's both. I suppose it depends why you come here. I see you already have a drink. Can I offer you a bite to eat?"

  "That's very kind of you, but—"

  "We have a members-only restaurant. This noisy room won't help your nerves, and the main restaurant is packed, but I have my own booth in the private dining room."

  "Why are you being so nice to me?" Vanya asked skeptically. "You don't even know me."

  "It's in my nature to come to the aid of a lady in distress."

  He had a slight accent she couldn't place, and a way of speaking that was unusual, but Vanya sensed his sincerity, and she liked him. She liked him a lot.

  "Please dine with me," he pressed. "You'd be doing me a favor. It would be nice to have the company."

  "I just feel a bit funny."

  "Funny?"

  "Accepting a dinner invitation from someone I just met."

  "That's understandable. Let's see, how can I put your mind at rest? You're not actually going anywhere with me, except up those stairs. I own this place, so it's not like I'm a vagabond wandering around, and you'll be in the company of other people the entire time."

  "That's all true."

  "I haven't had dinner yet. Have you?"

  "Uh, no, and I admit I'm a bit hungry."

  "Then it's settled," he announced, flashing a smile she thought could have been in a toothpaste commercial, and rising from his barstool he extended his hand.

  Finding it impossible to refuse, she placed her fingers into his palm. A warm tingle began moving up her arm, but it quickly passed, and she decided it must have been from resting her elbow on the marble counter. Slipping off the barstool, she stared up at his handsome face. He was captivating, but as he started to lead her through the busy room she mentally shook herself. He was bound to have a woman in his life, perhaps several.