A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book #4)(6)

The second the door was shut, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I really don’t want to be a hassle.”

“See, you’re assuming I brought you here for your benefit. Really, you’re here for my own nefarious purposes.”

She snorted at that and tried to look all serious when really she wanted to laugh. “Nefarious purposes? You? Never....”

He closed in on her and her arms fell down as he invaded her space. “So, Claire,” he said. “You seem tense. What’s the best way you can think of to calm down?”

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She and Dante had been together for over a week now, but she still wasn’t really used to him. He still seemed so big and masculine and, in some ways, utterly alien to her.

“Ummm....” She searched for words. “A nap.”

“Nap? Are you tired?” He leaned in and his nose brushed hers.

Tired? She had been tired a second ago, but now sleeping was the furthest thing from her mind. “No,” she said honestly. “Not tired.”

His lips just brushed hers as he asked, “So how should we calm you down?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t say anything. All she could do was push up on her toes to kiss him fully. For a second, the only part of them that touched was their lips in a soft, sensual kiss.

Then it seemed to take on a life of its own as Dante tilted his head to get better access to her mouth and his tongue invaded, leading the way and taking all.

She fell back against the door and Dante followed her, setting his hands on either side of her head, caging her in as he kept on kissing her, devouring her.

She let her eyes close and savored the heat of his body. The heat raced through her and pooled in her stomach as some part of her she barely recognized demanded more. She fisted her hand in his black button-down and pulled him closer.

All of a sudden, the kiss became fiercer. His teeth pushed against hers and his tongue seemed to mimic what other parts of him wanted to be doing. His erection pressed firmly into her stomach and one of his hands wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, but holding her in place. She gasped a breath in surprise and her hand let go of his shirt to flatten against his chest. She didn’t push him away. The domineering nature the kiss had taken was strange, but not altogether bad. She met the fierceness and gave as good as she got, interested in seeing where this was going.

Until she noticed it. The shirt beneath her hand was soft. Like the finest cotton beneath her hands. Not what Dante had been wearing....

Her eyes snapped open and the man on top of her didn’t have heat or arousal in his eyes. Instead, the dark-brown irises studied her as he kept on kissing and demanding. Claire ripped her head away, but Jackson’s hand around her neck kept her from going far.

“Miss me?” he asked with a sick gleam in his eyes.

Claire grabbed at his arm and immediately tried to suck his power away. Would he be stupid enough to attack her when he knew that she had already killed him once?

But when she tried to use her magic to hurt him, there was... nothing. He let out a bitter laugh as he stared down at her. “Not anymore, babe. You’re never going to get rid of me.”

She let go of his arm as though he were burning her. She immediately started to hit him and pull away and scream, but he just stood there, smiling down at her. No one was coming for her and there was no way to get free. Just as hopelessness was starting to set in, Jackson leaned in until his mouth brushed against her ear. “From now on, it’s you and me, Claire. Forever and always.”

Claire’s eyes snapped open and her heart felt as if it were about to pound out of her chest. Except Jackson wasn’t there. Her head whipped around to see Dante standing behind her and the annoyed woman still in front of her window and looking just as annoyed as she had before in the... dream?

Claire pushed away from her station and moved away from the counter with shaky legs.

“Claire?” said Dante as he followed her.

She couldn’t focus on anything right now. She could still feel Jackson’s hand on her neck, his breath on her ear. She wiped at her neck, trying to get all the remnants of Jackson off her.

When she made it to the breakroom, Dante grabbed her arm and brought her to a stop. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.

Tightening her lips, she glanced around them, looking for any sign that she wasn’t awake or Jackson was about to pop out. Everything looked fine, but that was part of the problem. In the dream, everything had looked completely normal too. It hadn’t been black and white. Nothing crazy had happened. It was just like real life but... not.

“I, um.” She remembered Dante’s role in the dream and decided to choose her words carefully. “I had a nightmare. Jackson was there and he attacked me.”

A look of concern immediately crossed his face. He ran a hand down her arm, which should’ve been relaxing but just made her stiffen. Even though she was ninety percent sure this was all real, she was still waiting for Dante to morph into Jackson any second now.

“I’m fine,” she said in a very unconvincing voice. “I just need a second. Sorry for freaking out.”

“Freak-outs are allowed after everything you’ve been through.”

She hated that reasoning. She didn’t want to be someone who’d been through a lot. She wanted to be a normal witch. It had taken her long enough to come to terms with her magic heritage, but that wasn’t it. Now she had to be a survivor and a type of witch everyone hated. Everyone except for Sam and Dante, which was her only saving grace.