She folded her arms, sitting back as though unworried. “Can you be more specific? Like what is an Immortal? Are you a vampire?”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’m what vampires fear. When vamps tell each other scary stories, they’re about me.”
“I see,” Amber said skeptically. “You’re not full of yourself or anything.”
To her surprise, he laughed. His smile made his eyes crinkle, softening them into something almost human. “I’m not a being of death magic, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m definitely about life magic, like you. Which is why I want to know why you’re messing with death magic. This whole place reeks of it—I can’t breathe without inhaling a shitload of it. Do you have a car?”
The incongruity of the question made Amber jump. “Yes. Why?”
Adrian rose to his feet with lithe grace. “I say we blow this joint and get some coffee and talk. That’s what Seattle’s known for, right? Coffee?”
“I hate coffee,” Amber said automatically. A drawback living in twenty-first century America, never mind Seattle, which pretty much had a coffeehouse on every corner. She was forever explaining she didn’t like it and earning incredulous looks from her coffee-saturated friends.
“Then I’ll buy you tea. Come on.” Adrian reached down a broad hand to help her to her feet.
Amber studied his hand, callused and strong with fighting, wondering whether to even consider trusting him. He was a fine specimen of a man, yes, but she’d learned the hard way that looks could disguise any amount of badness. He should not have been able to break her circle without wielding powerful magic himself, but he did not feel like a demon, and her coven would have heard about any witch that strong who’d come to town.
His words about Seattle’s coffee signaled that he was new in town, but why he should rush to this warehouse in the nick of time to save her was beyond her understanding. Happened to be passing, my ass. She needed to find out more about him.
“I’m a witch,” Amber said. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn you into a toad or something?”
Another tight grin. “I’ll risk it.”
Amber blew out her breath. “All right,” she said, taking his hand. “I think we definitely need to talk.”
Like a gentleman, Adrian helped her gather her accoutrements into the carved sandalwood box she’d inherited from her mother, then he snatched up his torn leather coat, swirled it around his shoulders, and led her out into the night.
* * *
“Cobras eat toads, I bet,” the young woman said as they reached her car. The vehicle, a Honda showing the wear and tear of living in a rainy climate, waited for them in the warehouse’s gravel-strewn parking lot.
“Don’t give him ideas.” Adrian slung her box into the backseat and held open the driver’s side door for her.
She gave him a startled look from her incredible eyes but climbed in and started the car. Instead of speeding off and leaving him stranded, she waited for him to get himself into the passenger seat and strap on a seatbelt.
“Does your snake understand me?” she asked as they pulled away from the warehouse.
“Every word. At least that’s what he tells me.”
She gave him another startled look with eyes he wanted to get to know better. “He can talk?”
“Sometimes he never stops talking,” Adrian said. “You pick the place. Somewhere you like. You know the town better than I do, and I’ll sit here and think about sampling Seattle’s coffee.”
Without answering, the woman pulled out onto a little-trafficked road, and Adrian leaned against the window and contemplated her. Her long, slim fingers gripped the wheel; she sat upright in the seat and focused rigidly in front of her. He could feel the intensity of her, her fear, her anger—emotions she was not comfortable with. He sensed that these emotions hadn’t plagued her much in her young life, and now she struggled to deal with them.
She had no taint of death magic on her. Some witches became seduced by it, the same way humans let demons or vampires seduce them in the back rooms of clubs in cities all across the world. It was a heady rush to command the sticky power of death magic, but it ultimately killed the witch who tried it. But this woman seemed clean and free of it, a fact which had saved her life. Adrian would have killed her if he thought the death magic in the warehouse had come from her.
Short dark hair curled about her face and turned up naturally at the base of her neck. Her face was not beautiful, but interesting, with high cheekbones, slim nose, wide mouth. Throat lightly tanned, long neck, strong shoulders under her light windbreaker. Her scoop-neck shirt showed a tiny tattoo on her collarbone, a butterfly in tasteful colors.
She had firm breasts inside a lace bra he glimpsed when she moved. He’d appreciated the jeans hugging her curvy hips and legs when he’d helped her gather up her things in the warehouse.
But her eyes most of all had made him stop. They were golden brown, almost the color of whiskey—a very good malt whiskey. But there was more to her eyes besides their pretty color. She had something, some unwavering determination that had struck him hard when she’d first looked up at him.
If Adrian made love to her, those eyes would regard him languidly, maybe lifting in the corners when she smiled. He’d enjoy making love to her, best in his decadent house in Los Angeles, with her tangled in cool sheets while soft music filled candlelit air. Fine champagne, ripe strawberries, and this woman.
She didn’t look particularly sexually adventurous. Except for her quick once-over when he’d crouched next to her circle, she wouldn’t look at him now. No sly glances, no assessing stares, which was too bad. He would have to work on that. They had chemistry, he’d seen that when he’d knelt down and gazed at her through her magic shield. The light of the shield had shone around her, glowing out of her body with her clean, strong magic.
Adrian was unable to shake the strange sensation that he’d seen her somewhere before. As she pulled onto a freeway, he opened the glove compartment and fished around inside.
She shot him a glance, but didn’t stop him. “Nosy, are you?”
He withdrew her insurance card and read the name on it. “Amber Silverthorne. That’s you?”
“You know, an easier way to find out my name would have been to ask me.”
But then she could have lied, and Adrian would have known it, and he didn’t want to start out with lies. “A good witch name,” he said, shutting the ill-fitting door.
“It’s my real name. My parents were witches.”
“Were? Meaning they’ve passed?”
“My sister, too.” Her hands went even more rigid on the steering wheel. “She was murdered.”
“She was murdered in the warehouse.” Adrian thought of the screams in his waking dream. He’d sprung from his bed but he’d known even then he’d be too late to save her.
“Yes,” she answered in a dull voice. “Four weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Adrian truly was sorry. No one needed to lose everyone they loved, especially not to the darkness of violence. Amber acknowledged the deaths without breaking down in self-pity, but he felt the grief in her, the sense of sorrow and the knowledge that she had to face the future alone.
He couldn’t resist reaching out and rubbing her cheek with his fingers, trying to lend comfort. Her skin grew rosy under his touch.
“I lost my brother a long time ago,” he said. “We never did find out what happened to him. I’m still looking.”
She shot him a glance, surprise and sympathy in her eyes. “Goddess, I’m sorry. And his name was Tain? That’s the name the demon said.”
“Yes.”
She returned her attention to the road. “So when you came to the warehouse, you were following the demon, not me.” When Adrian merely nodded, she asked. “How did you get here?”
“I flew.”
She raised her brows and looked at his back as though checking for wings. He grinned. “In a 737, from Los Angeles. I’ve b
een tracking our demon friend since he showed up in one of my dreams weeks ago. You need to tell me everything you know about him.”
She looked surprised. “I don’t know anything at all.”
“You do. Maybe you don’t know what yet, but you do.”
Amber jerked her gaze back to the road, and Adrian folded his arms and resumed his contemplation of her. She wore no rings but had three earrings in her right ear and two in her left, all silver. Wires and loops, as though she liked having things dangling and swishing around her. She wore a bracelet, again of fine silver, which softly clasped her wrist.
Your eyes are going to bug out, Ferrin’s voice came inside his head. The cobra spoke a dialect of ancient Egyptian, one that hadn’t been heard in the world for thousands of years.
She’s worth looking at, Adrian answered in the same language.
Heh. Knew you’d say that.
She’s also worth questioning. I need to know what she knows. If Amber had a piece to the puzzle to lead him to Tain, Adrian would stick by her until he found out what it was.
Sure that’s all you want from her? Ferrin asked.
Don’t you need to sleep or something?
Ferrin said the ancient Egyptian equivalent of Whatever, and went silent. With any luck, the snarky snake would remain dormant for a while.
They moved through the city into quieter districts, with large houses and sloping lawns resting on dark wooded hills that wound above one another. In a neighborhood of flower-bordered walks, Amber parked the car in front of a three-story Victorian house with a tower and a wraparound porch.
“This is a coffeehouse?” Adrian asked dubiously.
“This is my house. Coffeehouses are closed at this hour. We’ll have a cup in the kitchen, and we’ll talk, and then you’ll leave. I want to know what you know about this demon.”
He touched her cheek again, letting a bit of magic ripple from him to her. “I won’t hurt you.”
She gave him a puzzled look, then they got out of the car. Adrian carried her box of gear up to the porch. Amber unlocked and opened the front door and started to step through, but Adrian held her back with a hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”
Her golden eyes widened again as she stepped back, and he handed her the box and went inside.
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About the Author
New York Times bestselling and award-winning author Jennifer Ashley has written more than 85 published novels and novellas in romance, urban fantasy, and mystery under the names Jennifer Ashley, Allyson James, and Ashley Gardner. Her books have been nominated for and won Romance Writers of America's RITA (given for the best romance novels and novellas of the year), several RT BookReviews Reviewers Choice awards (including Best Urban Fantasy, Best Historical Mystery, and Career Achievement in Historical Romance), and Prism awards for her paranormal romances. Jennifer's books have been translated into more than a dozen languages and have earned starred reviews in Booklist.
More about Jennifer’s series can be found at
http://www.jenniferashley.com. Or join her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/47kLL
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Forbidden Taste
Immortals Novella
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Ashley
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The Calling (Immortals, Book 1) Copyright © 2007, 2014 by Jennifer Ashley
Cover design by Kim Killion
ISBN: 978-1-941229-44-6
Jennifer Ashley, Forbidden Taste
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