Read Online The Bitter Seed of Magic (A Spellcrackers Novel) by Suzanne McLeod - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne McLeod
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milling round the launch bobbing next to the dock. ‘There’s my trip to Old Scotland Yard. I have to give a statement, remember? I don’t want to delay it, and to be honest, I’d feel happier if the spell’s gone before then. That’s if you don’t mind . . .’
‘Mind? “Tempt not a desperate man”,’ he said softly, eyes bleak. Then a wicked light eclipsed the bleakness so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. ‘Though, talking about tempting’ – a grin spread across his face – ‘how about a bet? Dinner says the power of my kiss demolishes the spell inside a minute. If it takes longer, then it’s my treat.’
I narrowed my eyes. It was a bet he couldn’t lose. ‘Do you really expect me to fall for that?’
‘Yep,’ he said, much too happily. ‘Unless of course, I’m really not irresistible.’
Anticipation fluttered in my stomach and I struggled to contain my smile. ‘Go on then,’ I said, deliberately offhand as I stuck my chin out and puckered up. ‘Get it over with.’
All teasing left him as he reached out and clasped my face, mirroring my earlier movements, then bowed his head and rested his forehead against mine. The flutter brushed my heart, turning nervous – in a good way. ‘This one’s for the spell,’ he murmured, his breath warm across my cheeks. He dropped a light kiss on my mouth. My lips tingled, and a pulse of power slipped over my body, pebbling goosebumps on my skin. I felt the thorns pop out of my flesh and the briar stem wither and dissipate back into the ether.
‘Wow,’ I murmured, warring between being impressed and disappointed that the kiss was over so fast. ‘Looks like dinner’s on me then.’
He gave a quiet, satisfied laugh.
‘Now this one’ – he tilted my face up, thumbs caressing my jaw, his eyes dark and solemn – ‘is for you alone, Gen.’ He pressed his lips to mine, a quick hard kiss that filled me with his magic and stopped my heart for one glorious second, leaving me breathless, wanting and stunned.
Oh boy, now I really was screwed .
Chapter Eight
I t’s always handy to know you’ve got a five-hundred-plus-year-old – and therefore very powerful – vamp on speed-dial, even if the realisation is one of those good news/bad news things.
The bad news was I’d been arrested.
Not for the kiss (even though the kiss was so worth being arrested for, and more) – although seeing it was DI Helen Crane who did the arresting, the kiss was definitely a contributing factor. But on the face of it, the charge was for Misappropriation of Police Property, the police property in question being the Stun spell I’d misappropriated from Constable Martin’s baton, the one I’d used to knock out Bandana. Talk about irony. Witch-bitch Helen Crane had all but pounced on me with barely hidden glee as soon as Finn and I turned up at Old Scotland Yard.
More bad news: I was locked up in a state-of-the-art silver-lined police cell. The twelve-foot-square room had no windows, a six-inch steel door, a CCTV camera high in each corner, icky plastic facilities, and the ultimate in sleeping luxury: a barely there foam mattress. The cell was designed for keeping vamps and dangerous witches in line. Maybe I should be flattered she thought so much of me? Nah, she was just going for overkill again.
I shifted uncomfortably on the thin mattress and carefully tugged down the sleeves of the snazzy white paper jumpsuit provided by the Met’s fashion dept, adjusting them so that the silver-plated ‘slave-bracelets’ studded with chips of jade (Stun spells) and citrines (Magic Dampening spells) no longer touched my skin. I did the same with the jumpsuit’s legs – not that it would make much difference; every time I moved the heavy leg manacles slipped down again, so now I had a nice neat line of silver-burn blisters encircling both ankles.
Yet another helping of bad news: my phone call to Malik – or, to be precise, as it was daylight, my call to Sanguine
‘Mind? “Tempt not a desperate man”,’ he said softly, eyes bleak. Then a wicked light eclipsed the bleakness so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. ‘Though, talking about tempting’ – a grin spread across his face – ‘how about a bet? Dinner says the power of my kiss demolishes the spell inside a minute. If it takes longer, then it’s my treat.’
I narrowed my eyes. It was a bet he couldn’t lose. ‘Do you really expect me to fall for that?’
‘Yep,’ he said, much too happily. ‘Unless of course, I’m really not irresistible.’
Anticipation fluttered in my stomach and I struggled to contain my smile. ‘Go on then,’ I said, deliberately offhand as I stuck my chin out and puckered up. ‘Get it over with.’
All teasing left him as he reached out and clasped my face, mirroring my earlier movements, then bowed his head and rested his forehead against mine. The flutter brushed my heart, turning nervous – in a good way. ‘This one’s for the spell,’ he murmured, his breath warm across my cheeks. He dropped a light kiss on my mouth. My lips tingled, and a pulse of power slipped over my body, pebbling goosebumps on my skin. I felt the thorns pop out of my flesh and the briar stem wither and dissipate back into the ether.
‘Wow,’ I murmured, warring between being impressed and disappointed that the kiss was over so fast. ‘Looks like dinner’s on me then.’
He gave a quiet, satisfied laugh.
‘Now this one’ – he tilted my face up, thumbs caressing my jaw, his eyes dark and solemn – ‘is for you alone, Gen.’ He pressed his lips to mine, a quick hard kiss that filled me with his magic and stopped my heart for one glorious second, leaving me breathless, wanting and stunned.
Oh boy, now I really was screwed .
Chapter Eight
I t’s always handy to know you’ve got a five-hundred-plus-year-old – and therefore very powerful – vamp on speed-dial, even if the realisation is one of those good news/bad news things.
The bad news was I’d been arrested.
Not for the kiss (even though the kiss was so worth being arrested for, and more) – although seeing it was DI Helen Crane who did the arresting, the kiss was definitely a contributing factor. But on the face of it, the charge was for Misappropriation of Police Property, the police property in question being the Stun spell I’d misappropriated from Constable Martin’s baton, the one I’d used to knock out Bandana. Talk about irony. Witch-bitch Helen Crane had all but pounced on me with barely hidden glee as soon as Finn and I turned up at Old Scotland Yard.
More bad news: I was locked up in a state-of-the-art silver-lined police cell. The twelve-foot-square room had no windows, a six-inch steel door, a CCTV camera high in each corner, icky plastic facilities, and the ultimate in sleeping luxury: a barely there foam mattress. The cell was designed for keeping vamps and dangerous witches in line. Maybe I should be flattered she thought so much of me? Nah, she was just going for overkill again.
I shifted uncomfortably on the thin mattress and carefully tugged down the sleeves of the snazzy white paper jumpsuit provided by the Met’s fashion dept, adjusting them so that the silver-plated ‘slave-bracelets’ studded with chips of jade (Stun spells) and citrines (Magic Dampening spells) no longer touched my skin. I did the same with the jumpsuit’s legs – not that it would make much difference; every time I moved the heavy leg manacles slipped down again, so now I had a nice neat line of silver-burn blisters encircling both ankles.
Yet another helping of bad news: my phone call to Malik – or, to be precise, as it was daylight, my call to Sanguine
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