Odd that such a flamboyant little freak could possess such fine taste in men’s attire.
He could only hope she was equally talented in fulfilling his most current need.
On cue, he caught the scent of peaches that always seemed to cling to the witch and moments later there was a light knock on the door.
“Commander?” she called softly.
Gaius’s lips twitched. After two days in his constant companionship the female had lost most of her smug arrogance. There was nothing quite like being trapped with a lethal predator who hated witches to give a person an attitude adjustment.
“Enter.”
He heard her draw in a deep breath before pushing open the door to study him with a brittle bravado that didn’t mask her wariness.
Smart little witch.
Hovering in the doorway, Sally looked like a goth rag doll with her pigtails and heavy black eyeliner and matching lipstick. She was wearing some sort of red camisole with a puffy net skirt.
“It’s time for the ceremony.”
Gaius adjusted the French cuff links, his expression frigidly controlled. There was no way in hell he was going to reveal to the sneaky little bitch just how unnerved he was by the thought of allowing her to perform her magic on him. It was bad enough that he’d gone to his knees to plead for mercy when the Dark Lord had announced that Gaius would be “altered” to better suit the master’s needs.
“You have brought what I requested?” he instead demanded.
Her lips thinned, but she offered a ready nod. Good. The witch was learning. Like any good general, he expected complete obedience from his soldiers.
“I did.”
“Well?”
“She’s in the guest room.”
“Show me.”
The dark eyes flared with annoyance at his imperious tone but, wise enough to keep her mouth shut, Sally turned to lead him down the hallway.
Gaius followed at a measured pace, on full alert despite the supposed security of the lair. He’d learned a cruel lesson in ever lowering his guard the night his clan was attacked.
A lesson he would never forget.
“Have you heard from our companions?” he demanded as they climbed the steps leading to the upper floor.
“Yes, they should be arriving within a few hours.”
His jaw tightened as he glowered at the back of her head. “You still claim to know nothing about them?”
“I know as much as you do.”
“So you say.”
She flinched as his icy power lashed through the air, but hunching her shoulders, she halted in front of a heavy door and pointed at the small window that revealed the metal-lined cell inside.
“The woman is in there.” She waited for Gaius to move to peer through the window. “Is she satisfactory?”
Gaius hissed as his fangs lengthened in primitive hunger. The slender female chained to the wall possessed the long, dark hair that he’d demanded as well as the golden skin and dark, almond eyes that spoke of the Middle East.
She wasn’t an exact match for his beloved Dara, of course.
Her features weren’t nearly so delicately carved and her body was covered by a pair of cutoff shorts and a tiny halter top that his mate would have considered tacky, but she was close enough to stir the lusts that he’d nearly forgotten on the other side.
“Yes, she is . . . satisfactory,” he admitted, his mouth watering as his gaze traced the line of throat. “Where did you find her?”
Sally shrugged. “Where you find everything. The Internet. Lucky for you she makes house calls.” She grasped his wrist as Gaius’s hand reached for the doorknob. “Not yet.”
Gaius tensed, poised and ready to strike. “Remove your hand, witch.”
Hastily, the female snatched back her hand, sensing death in the air. But she stubbornly refused to back down.
“First the ceremony and then the girl,” she said.
Gaius offered her an icy glare. “You aren’t foolish enough to believe you are in a position to give me orders?”
There was a sudden crimson fire in the witch’s dark eyes and a warning heat that sizzled through the air.
“The order doesn’t come from me.”
Gaius shuddered. Cristo. He didn’t know what was worse. His fear of being at the mercy of the witch’s spell or the heavy weight of the Dark Lord’s smothering powers.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Let us be done with this ridiculous ceremony.”
Sally nodded her head toward the end of the hallway. “I have prepared the room.”
Still twitchy, Gaius followed the witch into the large room, his gaze landing on the thick line of salt poured into a circle in the center of the wood floor.
“Wait.” He turned to regard Sally with a deep scowl. “Explain precisely what you intend to do to me.”
She heaved a resigned sigh. “Again?”
He bared his fangs. “You’ve been remarkably unwilling to reveal the details.”
Her eyes widened before she attempted to hide her fear behind a mask of bravado. “With the master’s assistance I will conjure a spell that will remove your . . . scent.”
“Why?”
“It will not only protect you from being tracked by your enemies, but as a shape-shifter you will be capable of becoming whomever or whatever you want to be without giving away your true identity.”
She tried to make it sound oh so simple. Just a flick of her hand and, abracadabra, his scent was gone.
But nothing was ever simple.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.. . .
Especially when it came to magic.
There would be a cost that he was far from certain he wanted to pay.
“I can accomplish the same goal with a disguise amulet,” he pointed out in cutting tones.
“Yes, well, this spell will strip you a little . . .”
“What?”
“Deeper.”
“Deeper?”
“It will remove more than just your scent.”
Gaius narrowed his gaze. “You mean it will take away my very identity.”
“Only on a physical level.”
Her casual dismissal made his hands clench. It was that or wrapping them around her neck and crushing the life from her.
“And if I choose not to be”—he curled his lip in derision—“stripped?”
“That’s something you need to discuss with the master.”
Damn the witch. She had him backed in a literal corner and she knew it.
“Cristo,” he growled, moving to stand in the center of the corner. “Just be done with it.”