Chapter Twenty-One
Allie
Waking up in Dylan’s arms could become an addiction, and that was something I could not allow to happen. Things were already complicated enough in my life without adding a warlock to it. Most witches would be using this to try to trap Dylan into marriage. One thing I’d learned the hard way was how mercenary witches were about their hierarchy. Marrying Dylan would raise many witches’ stations. Trevor had the same problem, and it was why he ended up with so many witches who changed as soon as they started dating him.
I hadn’t exactly lied to Dylan last night when he’d asked about my witch heritage, but I’d certainly avoided answering his question completely. There was no missing the tension in Dylan’s body when we’d talked about me being a witch. He’d probably been wondering if I was playing some game to trick him. Dylan didn’t know me well enough to know if I was one of the many witches trying to elevate their standing among the Council of Witches. Telling him who my father was would alleviate those worries, but it would add new worries about my father demanding an affinity test—something my dad would never do.
My phone vibrated in my purse, so I worked to extricate myself from Dylan’s hold—not an easy task. He grumbled, and his arms tightened around my waist.
“I need to get my phone,” I told him. “It might be my mom, and she’ll panic if I don’t answer.” There was also the possibility that it was Delilah. While she’d texted to tell me she’d gotten safely to her mom’s, I’d expected more communication from her last night since her mom was probably freaking out about the murders and insisting she never return to the human college.
Dylan let me out of bed, and I rushed to my purse, but I was too slow and the call went to voicemail. With any luck, my mom wouldn’t call Delilah to find out where I was, because I’d rather my mother not hear about what had happened from Delilah. My roommate would make the whole thing sound worse than it was, and my mother would freak out.
“Crap,” I said when I saw who the missed call was from. As if my thoughts had conjured this mess, things were probably about to get even more complicated.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” Dylan asked in a sleepy voice, one lock of hair falling over his left eye.
“My dad was calling,” I said, not at all sure how I was going to handle this conversation. “I need to call him back before he worries and casts a tracing spell,” I explained before realizing how telling that was. Only a few witches had the power to cast tracing spells. Trevor and my father were the only ones I knew.
“Tracing spell?” Dylan asked. He narrowed his eyes, and his voice lost that sleepy quality.
“Yeah, he’s kind of overprotective,” I said as I slipped on my sweatpants and fled downstairs with my phone so my dad wouldn’t hear Dylan in the background. While he accepted that I was a succubus, he still preferred that I not talk about sex with him.
I called my father’s number, hoping he wouldn’t have had time to cast the tracing spell. If the police had figured out who I was, they would have called my father, something I hadn’t even considered last night. In my defense, I’d been exhausted and not thinking straight.
“Where are you, Alana?” my father asked by way of greeting, and I had a sinking suspicion he already knew where I was, but I still held out hope that he simply knew I wasn’t at my apartment.
“There was a problem when I left work last night, so I stayed with a friend,” I told him, feeling very much like a little girl who was about to be scolded.
“I am already aware of that,” my father said, sounding annoyed. “Imagine how upset I was when the investigators contacted me to tell me what had happened to my daughter.”
“Technically, nothing happened,” I foolishly argued.
“From what I understand, someone tried to kill you, and you wouldn’t have been their first victim,” he stated, sounding much too reasonable. “All of this happened because you insist on working at that establishment.”
Apparently, we weren’t just going to discuss where I was, or even what had happened. Nope, we were going to discuss my lifestyle, which my father had never approved of.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a job,” I said as calmly as I could manage under the circumstances.
“One of your sisters could get you a job,” he insisted.
“Yes, I’m sure my sisters would love working with me,” I snapped. “They’d really appreciate the reminder that their father couldn’t keep it in his pants and ruined his marriage to their mother by screwing a succubus. Even if it weren’t for the fact that it would be horribly awkward working with my half-sisters, I am a succubus. Sending me to a witch school didn’t change that, and pretending I’m not won’t change that, either, so get used to it.”
“Pretending that’s all you are, or throwing a temper tantrum, won’t change the fact that you are half-witch—a very powerful one at that,” he said in a patient voice. “I understand your life isn’t easy, and I realize I’m partly to blame for that. I love you, and hearing that I’d almost lost you last night took at least a century off my life.” My dad’s voice sounded somewhat choked.
Now, I felt really bad about not calling either of my parents. I hadn’t been thinking straight, but I could see why my dad was so upset with me for not calling him. I could also see why he didn’t want me working at SpellBinders, even if I didn’t have any other options at the moment.
“Open the front door, Alana,” my dad said after a long pause in the conversation.
This was bad, and I had the insane idea that this might be a dream, so I reached down and pinched myself. It hurt, and I was still standing in Dylan’s living room with my father waiting to be let in.
“Is there a reason you’re pinching yourself?” Dylan asked.
I turned to find Dylan standing in the entryway to his front room in nothing but a pair of jeans with his arms crossed in front of his chest. One eyebrow rose as he waited for my answer. This was definitely going to get ugly.
“My father is at your front door,” I told Dylan in a voice that was a little more high-pitched than I’d expected it to be.
“Should I be worried?” he asked, and I couldn’t read him.
“I don’t know. He’s not violent or anything like that, but you know how warlocks can be,” I said before realizing how rude that sounded when I was talking to a warlock, but it was too late to take it back now.
Dylan said nothing, merely stepped forward to open the front door. He stared at my father for a moment before looking over his shoulder with an expression that proved he was not at all happy about discovering who my dad was. Stepping back, he allowed my father to enter the room.
“Julian Talbot,” my dad said by way of introduction, as if every witch and warlock wouldn’t recognize him on sight.
My dad was a handsome warlock, with neatly trimmed blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a lean muscular build. At nearly six and a half feet tall, he towered over most people. He was also a very high-ranking warlock, and a man-whore from the accounts of his ex-wife and the slew of women he’d slept with over the years. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only child conceived from one of his affairs.
“Dylan Hunt,” Dylan said with a nod.
After one stern glare cast in Dylan’s direction, my dad’s face softened, and he moved forward to wrap me in his arms. “I was terrified when I heard what had happened to you,” he murmured. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Pulling back, I put some distance between my father and me before I did something embarrassing like weeping in his arms. While my relationship with my dad was complex, he loved me and I felt the same about him.
“Things happened so quickly that I didn’t have much time to think about what I was going to do,” I explained. “I was walking to my car when I heard someone following me. That’s when Dylan called, which is good because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it to my car before the guy caught up with me.”
At the mention of Dylan’s name,
my dad’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to glare at Dylan, who glared right back.
Oh, yeah, this was going really well—not!
“Long story short, Dylan was able to cast a fire spell remotely, and he called the police. After I talked to the police, Dylan made me come back here. It was late, and I didn’t think beyond getting some sleep,” I continued, now babbling because, even though I was a succubus, I didn’t want to tell my dad about my sex life—not that there’d been any sex last night. No sex at Dylan’s house, at least.
My dad was scowling at Dylan, and I could tell he wasn’t sure how he felt about Dylan’s involvement with me. If Dylan hadn’t saved my life, he’d likely be seriously pissed about it because Dylan had his own reputation. “How did you meet my daughter?”
“We went to school together,” I told my father. While that wasn’t the answer to his question, it also wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t sure when I’d developed this new skill for not exactly answering questions to avoid lying.
“We met at a friend’s house,” Dylan said. “While I did attend school with Allie, I don’t think I talked to her back then. I was three grades ahead of her, and I was an asshole.”
My dad nodded and waited for further explanation.
“It was a fling,” I said, which made both Dylan and my father scowl even more. If I were smart, I’d keep my mouth shut for the rest of the day because I kept making things worse.
“Tell me, Dylan—were you aware that Alana was my daughter? Did you know she was a witch at all when you slept with her?” My dad sounded pretty calm, all things considered.
Dylan shook his head. While he was answering my father, his eyes focused on me. “She didn’t mention any of that to me. I only recently learned she’s a witch.”
“Because we were having a one-night stand!” I practically shouted. “We didn’t need to have some long discussion about how my father’s infidelities led to him screwing a succubus who wanted to have a baby. That’s not the kind of conversation you have during a one-night stand.”
“I don’t have one-night stands with witches,” Dylan said angrily. His jaw was clenched so tightly, I was worried it might snap, and his anger really pissed me off.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he suddenly telling me he was done with me because of who my father was? Unable to handle the pain that thought brought, I turned my back on both of them. “I’m going to gather my things, and then I’m going home. I forgot my father is wealthy enough to pay for the best bodyguards money can buy.”
Without waiting for either of them to respond, I swept past Dylan, made my way up the stairs and into his bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. There was this voice in the back of my head that kept telling me I was picking a fight with Dylan because I was afraid of what was happening between us. Dylan seemed just as confused by what was happening, and I wasn’t being fair. Still, I couldn’t deal with any of that yet. Later, I would think about what was happening with Dylan. For now, I was going home.