Page 40 of Pocus
“One week,” he says quietly. “That’s all I can spare. You make sure my betrothed is in the state by the end of the week, or the deal is off.”
He steps away from the barrel of my pistol. “That was a good talk, don’t you agree, mon ami?” he asks with a small sigh. “And…uh…you wouldn’t know anything about the disappearance of my personal assistant, would you?”
His question was so random and unexpected that it took an effort not to react. I snort loudly. “Whoever he is,” I reply, taking my time to replace my pistol in its holster before raising my eyes to his again with a mocking smirk. “I bet he discovered what an asshole you are and decided to quit.”
An indescribable emotion crosses his eyes quickly. I’d intentionally confused him with my choice of pronoun, and from the slight waver I sensed from him, I guess it worked.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Anderson says with a curt nod. “Goodbye, my friend,” he says and turns around to leave.
He’s already halfway to his car when he pauses and turns around with a wide smirk.
“Oh, and Pocus? Can you ask your clown of a hacker to stop trying so hard?” he scoffs loudly. “It makes you look pathetic.”
* * *
Idown another glass of moonshine. It’s the eighth glass in the same hour, but I can barely feel its effect. I rake a hand through my hair and fist the curls. Surrounded by the darkness and quiet of the main room, I can feel the demon in me fighting for expression. It’d be so easy to give in to the clawing in my chest to scream, cry and kill everything in my way.
It’d be interesting to watch you give yourself away.
Anderson’s mocking voice seems to be stuck in a prominent part of my brain, constantly reminding me of my greatest flaw. I feel pathetic and…helpless. How do I protect the people around me when I’m the weakest of them all?
Suddenly, the main room is flooded with light. I look up to see Abigail standing a few feet from me.
She looks like a heavenly apparition, dressed in a knee-length silk night dress with her shining brown hair flowing down her shoulders like fairy dust. I’d bought her that night dress with a particular picture in mind. I imagined her knees parted with the dress bunched up to her waist…a long leg carelessly thrown over my shoulder while she braced herself on her hands. I imagined my head buried deep in her cleft and my palms splayed on her bare ass, lifting her further into my mouth. The picture becomes more vivid in my head even now, setting my body on fire.
“Pocus?”
Her voice is husky and soft. The silk night dress swirls sensually against her curves as she walks closer to me. She lowers herself to the empty stool beside me, crowding me with her heady scent. She braces her elbow on the bar counter and drops her head on her palm.
“Can’t sleep?” she asks softly, gazing into my eyes
How am I supposed to answer that when I can barely think straight? Damn, she’s so beautiful…my biggest temptation. So near, yet so untouchable.
I look away from her and busy myself with pouring another shot of moonshine while I organize my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I mutter after a few beats of silence. I down the drink in one go and raise my empty glass to her in a mock salute.
“Makes two of us,” she says with a slight shrug.
And once again, we’re cloaked in a tentative silence. I should ask why she can’t sleep, but that would be hypocritical of me. I’m probably the cause of her insomnia. She might seem like she’s settling in well, but sometimes I catch the wariness in her deep hazel eyes when she thinks no one is looking.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, breaking the long stretch of silence.
I snicker quietly and pour another shot of moonshine. This time I just take a sip. As my stomach tightens in frustration, I rake a hand through my hair and down my face. She keeps looking at me with those magical hazel depths, patiently waiting for me to sort my thoughts – generously offering comfort in silence. And I suddenly want to give in. I want to be comforted by her. I want to lay my head on her chest and drown in her scent while she runs her long graceful fingers through my hair and murmurs sweet nothings in my ear. I want to forget my turbulent past and the disturbing future that Mama prophesied. I want to forget myself and just revel in the solace her presence brings.
Why am I being so emotional?
Maybe she is indeed an enchantress, the kind that preys on the vulnerabilities of men. But even then….
“Pocus…?” she calls quietly after an eternity of stony silence. “I asked if you’re okay.”
“What if I say I’m not?” I counter with a small scoff.Would that justify pulling you against my body and claiming your soft lips?But of course, I don’t say that out loud.
Coward!My subconscious jeers, and I down the rest of the liquid in my glass.
She studies my face for a few seconds, then sighs softly. She folds her hands over her chest, pushing her breasts up in the process. My eyes graze the sumptuous teasing mounds pushing against the neckline of her night dress. I swallow hard and quickly return my gaze to her face…it’s a safer bet.
“I heard Mr. Anderson was here today,” Abigail says tentatively. “Hex told me all about his threat. Is that why you’re this way?”