Chapter Twenty-One
Marabella gaped at the assemblage of candles and incense burners scattered around her living room. “My apartment is going to smell like a Turkish bazaar.”
Cass looked up from the collection of oil decanters she was in the process of arranging on the coffee table. “We could always open some windows.”
“It’s hitting eighty degrees outside. I’ll live with the smell.” Marabella picked up one of the colorful decanters and uncorked it. The earthy scent of patchouli tickled her sinuses. “Actually, this one is really nice. High quality.” She glanced at Cass. “What exactly will I be doing with it though?”
“Anointing Sam’s back.”
Cass’s answer triggered the recollection of the faded tattoo Marabella had glimpsed last night. “The tattoo was his seal, wasn’t it?”
“Technically, no. It was underneath it. Sam had the tat done a few years ago to cover it up.”
“Why?”
Cass shrugged. “Sam told me he got drunk at Mardi Gras one year and did it on a whim. Personally, I think there’s something deeper to it than that. But you know him. He’s not going to admit it.”
Marabella lowered the bottle back to the table and sighed. Convincing a Rottweiler to give up a T-bone was easier than getting Sam to open up about anything. As she’d recently figured out, the only time he truly let down his guard was during sex. Her cheeks heated as she mentally replayed the lusty lovemaking they’d partaken in earlier to seal their partnership. She’d tried to remain quiet out of embarrassment of Cass and Nikki overhearing, which had only served to make Sam even more determined to make her scream in ecstasy. She’d come dangerously close a few times—no pun intended—but ultimately she’d won that battle. He’d be getting some major payback later though.
Heavy clomping on the stairs announced Nikki was on her way up with more items Cass had sent her out for. “I think I cleaned out Charmed Moon’s stock of quartz crystal and moonstone.”
The mention of Charmed Moon speared a tiny sliver of panic through Marabella. Her friends and colleagues from the Beaumont coven ran the metaphysical shop here in Savannah. If Nikki had mentioned Marabella’s name, Clarissa and the others would probably be curious about the unusually large purchase of practitioner gemstones.
Marabella cut off her worried musings before they could go any further. Damn it, she’d made the decision to stop being a paranoid wuss. She was a strong woman. With superpowers. If her sister witches or the guild didn’t approve of what she was doing, that was their problem. She’d made her choice, and she intended to stick by it.
Nikki plunked the box onto the carpet and stretched her arms over her head. “So where’s the demon of the hour?”
Cass scooped a handful of the stones from the box and fiddled with their placement on the large black velvet cloth she’d spread in the center of the room. “In the bathroom, taking a shower. But he should be done by now. Maybe you could go let him know we’re about ready to get this show on the road.”
“Will do, boss.” Nikki paused for a moment. “Speaking of boss, Pops finally called me with a job. I…told him I’d think about it.”
“Don’t be a moron. Take it. Just because I don’t want to reap doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself. I know you love the thrill of the chase.”
“Are you sure? I feel like I’m betraying our united front.”
Cass lifted to her feet and crossed to her sister. “You’re not. And honestly? As much as I love you, you drive me nuts sometimes.”
Nikki grinned. “Same goes here, brat.”
“Then it’s agreed. A break will do us good. Now go get Sam before I do something sappy like hug you.”
Marabella watched Nikki strut off. The butterflies in her tummy leapt into action. Despite knowing in her heart she’d made the right choice, and her firm resolution to be a steady rock during the branding ritual, her nerves were getting the better of her.
Okay, truth be told, she was scared shitless.
She’d never performed any magic remotely like this. She wasn’t even sure it would work. Cass had assured her the bonding spell was relatively simple, but any time you were dealing with uncertain magic, potential accidents were always a risk factor. What if she turned Sam into an aardvark? Or a platypus? Or horror of horrors, a platyvark?
What the heck would that even look like?
She shook her head, attempting to regain her train of thought. The other aspect that left her floundering was the whole familiar part of it. Having no experience with that, she was basically winging this with Sam. Usually there were contracts drawn up between witches and their familiars and a training period where the parties involved worked closely together to build a simpatico relationship. She and Sam didn’t have the time to go through all that though. Since Sam was technically a free agent now, Cass had drawn up a basic binding contract that Marabella and Sam would both sign. After that, she and Sam would spend time tonight strengthening the link they would require so she could dispatch him to the Death Wards. But that was it. Certainly not much of a witch and familiar honeymoon.
That thought brought a flush to her skin. Why did she have to go and compare what she and Sam were about to do with marriage? Now she was going to have that in her head for eternity. Her feelings for Sam were already complicated enough. She didn’t need to add to the mess of her emotions by imagining something so fanciful as them being in some magical marriage that was sealed with a contract and a few invisible chains.
Actually, some men probably would consider that marriage.
The sound of Nikki’s and Sam’s approaching voices broke through her musings, and she turned her head toward the hallway. Her breath snagged in her throat as her gaze fell on Sam. No matter how many times she looked at him, she’d never get over how ruggedly gorgeous he was. In deference to the ritual, he’d left his torso bare, putting the bronzed glory of his sleekly muscled shoulders and chest on mouthwatering display. His hair—still damp from his shower—appeared blacker than midnight, and its short ends curled slightly against his nape. His prideful boast from earlier ghosted through her mind. I’m the fucking personification of evil.
No, more like the personification of every female fantasy brought to life.
Sam’s dark gaze locked on her, and an intense awareness buzzed between them. He walked toward her, and she resisted the urge to smooth her shaky palms over her skirt. Adopting an outward display of composure, she stepped onto the large square of velvet and waited for Sam to join her. Once he did, Cass instructed them to hold hands before she wrapped a length of black cord from their wrists to their fingertips. It reminded Marabella of a Wiccan handfasting.
Sam scowled at Cass. “I don’t remember this part of the ritual.”
“It’s an added improv.” Cass winked at Marabella. “I like the symbolism.”
Sam muttered something that sounded like, “Batshit crazy broads everywhere.”
“What?” Cass demanded.
“Nothing. Let’s get on with this before my damn fingers lose circulation.”
Cass finished the binding part of the ritual and officially declared them witch and familiar. Going on impulse, Marabella stood on tiptoe and kissed Sam on the mouth. He surprised her by cupping the back of her head and slanting his lips over hers in a lush kiss.
Mindful of their audience, she reluctantly broke their connection and licked her lips. A strange yet pleasant shiver of sensation burrowed beneath her skin. “Wow, I’m tingling.”
“That’s nothing. Wait until I get you in bed later.”
Cass snickered. “Uh, I think she’s referring to the binding link that’s taking affect, not your kiss, Casanova.” She removed the cords from Sam’s and Marabella’s hands and instructed Sam to lie down on his stomach in the middle of the velvet cloth.