“Hired for what?”
“Revenge. I’m a Vengeance Dealer.”
Raven frowned as he looked from Mayhem to Darcy. “Revenge? What the fuck did I do?”
“What did you do?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “A group of women you slept with and treated like dirt hired me to curse you with a vengeance spell, to get you back for leaving them lusting after you.” Her tone was haughty, like she’d somehow convinced herself she was in the right.
“What?” Raven was suddenly fuming, anger reigning over his lust. “And you agreed to this? You meddled in my life because a group of fans got pissed off that I wouldn’t have more than a one-night stand with them? Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”
“You hurt them, Raven,” she quipped back, her words dripping with self-righteousness and condemnation.
“Hurt them?” He paced away from her and then back again. “I’ve never made any claims that I’m looking for a commitment. Those women all knew what they were getting in to when they came after me. Did you ever think that maybe, maybe, they’re the ones who have got it wrong? That they’re the ones lusting for something I made no promises about? They are fans, fanatics! Obsessed with something they can’t have. Could you truly be that naively stupid to deal vengeance, as you say, without getting both sides of the story?”
Darcy flinched and though he felt a twinge of regret, he brushed it aside. She’d fucked with his life without a moment’s hesitation. Any feelings he had for her were a result of the curse. Nothing more.
“You’re going to reverse it,” Mayhem said, taking the thoughts right out of Raven’s head.
Darcy blanched and she dropped her gaze, no longer acting the bold defender of wronged women. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Raven sneered.
“I can’t find the counter spell to undo it.”
Mayhem took a threatening step toward her. “Well, I know how to undo it. Kill the witch.”
Darcy snapped her eyes back up, terror transforming her face. “But I’ve got a few ideas!” she screeched. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll find a way, I promise!”
Raven put a hand on Mayhem’s shoulder and eased him back a few steps, trying desperately to ignore his own thundering heart, his fear of something happening to Darcy surely matching hers. Damn curse. “Let her explain.”
“Fine. Explain,” Mayhem barked.
Darcy’s throat worked as she looked from Raven to Mayhem. “I’ve got some leads. There might be a way to reverse it. I just need a little bit of time. And my computer…I need access to my computer.”
Mayhem regarded her for a few moments, his expression an unreadable mask.
“Mayhem,” Raven said, “the weakness I felt when she was gone seems to be abating…as long as I’m with her…”
“That’s right!” Darcy said. “As long as Raven is around me, he should start to feel okay. That’s the way the curse works! It’s the separation that makes it worse!” And then she mumbled, “I can’t believe I forgot that part.”
Mayhem looked over at Raven, an eyebrow cocked. “You’re feeling better? More like your old self?”
“Yeah, feeling much better now that she’s here.” Raven forced the partial truth through his lips. He did feel better when his hands were on her.
Mayhem leaned forward, his finger jabbing the air in front of Darcy’s face. “You fucked with the wrong man, witch. Nobody fucks with my pack. You better fix this, lady, or I’m going to fix it for you.”
Darcy nodded and Raven gulped down his own fear. Mayhem would do it too, kill the witch to protect his pack.
Chapter Eight
I’ve got some leads? I’ll find a way? What the fuck are you thinking, girl? And what was with kissing the werewolf back? Huh? Are you nuts?
She could practically hear Annie’s disapproval in her head. Her thoughts were desperate, frantic, and there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do in the name of self-preservation. The problem was she knew kissing Raven had absolutely nothing to do with a cunning escape plan and everything to do with the maddening lust she felt whenever she was around him. It was almost like she was the one cursed. She shuddered at the thought.
They’d left her alone again. She was still tied up but thankfully no longer gagged. She needed access to her computer so she could check the Hex forum and find out if anyone had responded to her query. She didn’t hold out much hope for luck there, though. What she needed was a Plan B, ’cause her Plan A sucked pretty badly. She had no doubt that Mayhem would kill her, whether or not the myth was true. If there was a remote chance it was, he wouldn’t hesitate.
So she needed to get away. If only she knew some of the more powerful spells like air deprivation or power blasting. Sadly, her skills were limited to the spells she’d learned from Annie’s grimoire and even some of those didn’t quite work as well as they should. She never claimed to be a good student—never really memorized anything but the vengeance spell, and that was only out of necessity. She couldn’t exactly carry around the grimoire when she was cursing a man. She was a pathetic excuse for a witch, mediocre at best. Annie used to call her a dabbler. She dabbled in magic and now it was biting her in the ass just as Annie said it one day would.
She heard raised voices from the other side of the door. An argument was raging on whether or not she was telling the truth. It also sounded like they were debating over her life. Very comforting.
“Jay, give her her fucking computer and stay in the room while she works. And you—if I find out you’ve been anywhere near that witch, I’m going to tie you up too.”
Seconds later, the door to her room swung open and Jay, or so she assumed, came waltzing in with her laptop. He laid it down on the desk beside her.
“I’m going to untie you now so that you can do what you need to do. If you so much as give a hint that you’re casting a spell or up to something tricky, I’ll rip your goddamned head off. Understand?”
Darcy gulped and nodded. Her heart hammered painfully as Jay released her from her bonds.
She rubbed her sore wrists before pushing her chair closer to the desk and opening her laptop. Jay sat on the bed behind her, not bothering to speak, his glare boring into the back of her skull. She’d never felt hate before—never understood how an emotion could be palpable—until now.
She clicked the bookmark for Hex, not bothering to hide what she was doing. She had no doubt that Jay would do exactly what he said he’d do. And instead of being scared, she was actually quite angry—at herself more than anything. Here she was, a witch, and she couldn’t mutter a single spell to get herself out of this situation. It was pathetic. She was supposed to be one of the most powerful species of supernatural out there. Some of her counterparts were able to do amazingly gifted things, like heal injuries, disappear, teleport, and travel through time. And what could she do? Curse a man to lust for her. That was really it. Well, unless you counted the ability to light a candle with a breath and a whisper. Parlor trick, nothing more. What could she do with that? Start a fire? Not unless the candle fell onto a tub of gasoline-soaked rags or something.
She sighed. Stop wallowing. You’ll figure a way out of this. She logged in, clicked for messages and…nothing. Her stomach bottomed out and she felt bile rise to the back of her throat. Fuck.
She quickly closed the screen then logged into her email, hoping that maybe—just maybe—help lay in there.
A new message popped up. Her heart raced as she clicked the email open.