Coveted - Book 3 in the Gwen Sparks Series Page 2

  My heart was bruised, but I refused to cower under the pain. After a couple of pity parties I pulled on my big girl panties and decided to put on a brave face. It didn’t matter how strong the ache inside my chest was. I’d never show that pain to the world, especially when my life could be in danger.

  Pulling into the small parking lot in front of my apartment building, I shut off my jeep and just sat. The apartment complex was one big rectangular building with windows running in twin rows horizontally. A rusted metal staircase led to the second floor where my place was. It was rather unspectacular in appearance. At twenty-six, this was not where I’d seen my life ending up. With Fiona in Moon, expanding her magic and love life, I never felt like more of a loser.

  Big girl panties! No more pity parties, Gwen.

  Tucking my depression back into the furthest corners of my mind, I exited my car. As I headed up the small concrete path, careful not to slip on the thin sheet of ice covering it, I sensed movement to my right. As I turned my head, a voice from my left called, scaring the bejeezus out of me and down I went. With a hard thump I landed on my behind, wincing as a string of colorful curses flitted through my tight lips. Wearing high-heeled boots in winter was tempting fate, especially since I was born with two left feet. I leaned forward so that I was on my hands and knees, carefully pulling my feet up under my body to stand. A deep masculine laugh taunted my ears and another string of colorful language was my response.

  “A gentleman would help me up.”

  “If one happens to come along, I’ll be sure to grab him,” Dorian responded.

  I managed to stand, my legs wobbly like that time Bambi braved the frozen lake. If I recalled correctly, his friends laughed at his clumsiness too. My eyes instantly found Dorian and his amused grin. Jerk. He was leaning against the building, his arms crossed. Deciding not to chance the icy path again, I stepped onto the frost-covered grass. I’d definitely have a bruised bum come morning.

  Ignoring Dorian, I made my way up the rickety stairwell. I only made it halfway before he stopped me.

  “Did you forget about training?”

  “No.” I continued up the stairs.

  “Gwen, we had a deal,” Dorian reminded me. “I’m staying with you to teach you how to be a spirit walker. If you don’t take advantage of my teachings then you’re only hurting yourself.”

  I paused, my hand gripping the cold steel of the railing. Looking over my shoulder I eyed Dorian at the bottom. Sometimes he could be a smartass, and other times he sounded like a teacher scolding a child. Since I’ve been taking care of myself since I was sixteen, it annoyed me to be treated as such. Still, I knew I needed to embrace my abilities and that meant dealing with the self-righteous angel of Death.

  “Let me help sway your indecision.” Dorian climbed up the first few steps. “I’m teaching you hand-to-hand combat. I’ll be your punching bag tonight.”

  Was it wrong that excitement was my first response? It’s not like I’m an aggressive woman but I could see the benefits of blowing off some pent up stress by taking my frustrations out on Dorian. As I rolled the idea around in my head, another thought popped into my head.

  “Why do I need to learn hand-to-hand combat? As far I know ghosts can’t physically hurt me.”

  “Not all of your enemies will always be in spirit form.”

  Like I could forget— my days and nights seemed to slow to a crawl as I anticipated Holly’s strike. After a week of nothing happening I was starting to believe I was more paranoid than anything.

  “Yeah, but I can use my magic to defend myself.” I shrugged. Dorian looked away, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck. He looked down at his booted feet, avoiding my waiting stare for as long as he could. He was hiding something. It couldn’t have been more obvious.

  “What?” I prompted. “What is it now?”

  Dorian looked up, the corners of his mouth turned down as he hesitated to speak. I arched my eyebrows at him in a “come-on-already” stare.

  Dorian took a ragged breath, which meant I wouldn’t like what he was about to tell me. “You’re embracing the spirit walker side,” he began, and I waited for him to explain. “There are rules, Gwen. You can’t be both things—a regular witch and spirit walker. Once you pick a side, the other fades.”

  “What?” I shrieked. Since I had been so busy with training with Dorian, I hadn’t used my other, normal witchy powers. Granted, I didn’t use them a lot anyway. I didn’t like to depend on magic for everything, but it came in handy if I needed to conjure an item in a snap or zap a threat.

  “And you’re just now telling me this?”

  “I knew what your reaction would be,” Dorian said. “And becoming a spirit walker is more important than being able to create clothes and do your makeup.”

  My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think of me?” My tone dripped with angry sarcasm. “Is that what you see when you look at me? A superficial woman more worried about stocking her closet than her responsibilities?”

  The funny thing was I had always said those exact words about Fiona. I didn’t mean it to be hurtful though, and now it seemed I was just like her, at least in Dorian’s eyes. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. I knew who I was and screw what his impression of me was. Yet, it did bother me.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Dorian took a couple steps up. The strong features of his face softened as he looked at me. “I’m just saying that you may lose your magic, but you’re gaining power. Do you have any idea how many witches would love to be a spirit walker? Not everyone is cut out for it.”

  I released my anger. Since returning from Flora I’d been on edge and moody, a ball of frazzled nerves. Thinking about what he said, the annoyance ebbed away. I’d embraced my spirit walker self and if that meant losing my physical magic, then so be it. The other option would be to refuse it and go insane from it. And what kind of option was that? So I wouldn’t be able to conjure items, glamour my appearance or cast spells. There were worst things.

  “It just caught me off guard,” I admitted. It was yet another piece of my former self I was losing. But I tried seeing it as evolving for the better instead of losing anything. I was determined to look on the bright side even if my life was dark and scary. I couldn’t allow things that were out of my control shake me.

  “So you ready to kick my ass?” Dorian grinned causing me to smile.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  *

  “How did the talk with Mr. Wonderful go?” Dorian was driving my Jeep down Main Street. I eyed the strip of businesses lining the street, their artsy signs glowing above their doors. As we passed my store, Broomsticks, a wave of guilt gnawed at me. I hadn’t worked very much since returning home. There always seemed to be something else more pressing to do, like training for the impending attack I wasn’t sure would ever come.

  “Don’t,” I bit out, shooting Dorian a warning glare. It wasn’t a secret that he didn’t like Aiden and vice versa. As far as I knew, Dorian had never been in a relationship so I didn’t expect him to understand what I was going through. Whenever he brought up my ex, I made a point to either warn him away from the topic or change it altogether. I wasn’t sure if that was because I didn’t want him poking the fresh wound, or if I was embarrassed about being deceived so easily. Sometimes I wondered if I looked up the word “fool” in the dictionary if I would find my picture. I was too afraid to check with Mr. Webster though.

  “That bad, huh?” True to his character, Dorian didn’t drop it. Heaven forbid a woman (me) gave into one man (Aiden) and not him. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dorian had never been rejected in his life. I knew what irked him about Aiden was the fact that when we were in Moon, I wouldn’t swoon under his charms and betray my love for Aiden. I mentally snorted at myself. A lot of good my loyalty had done me in the end.

  “We had a civilized conversation and that is all I’m going to say about it,” I told him.
When he didn’t respond I looked over at him. He was shaking his head back and forth, a bemused look on his face.

  “What?” I asked, annoyed with his unspoken words. Dorian shifted, realizing I was watching him. He glanced at me before looking back at the road.

  He shrugged. “He’s a fool. If you were mine I wouldn’t give you up so easily.” He threw another glance my way. “I should send him a thank-you card though; had he fought for you, then I wouldn’t get my shot to prove to you what you’ve been missing out on.”

  His comment half offended, half excited me. “It wouldn’t matter how hard he fought; he knows I’m resolute in my decision to take time away from him.”

  Dorian snorted. “He either doesn’t know how to claim what he wants or he doesn’t care enough to get it.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “I couldn’t watch you walk away.” His eyebrows dipped together and his mouth quirked up on the side. The confusion on his face belied the confidence of his words.

  “Even you will eventually tire of being rejected and move on. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who exerts energy on something with no reward.” I turned my head, looking out the window with a small smile on my lips. Screwing with Dorian was the perfect distraction for my abused brain.

  “There will be a reward.” Dorian’s voice was low and smooth—promising. A small tingle prickled along my skin. He pulled alongside the road, turning the key to shut the car off and got out. I followed him, slamming the door behind me a little too hard. I stared ahead unenthused at the open field as Dorian started making his way across it. When he was fifty or so feet ahead of me, he turned back and motioned for me to join him. Stomping through the tall grass in high-heeled boots was not easy. I wasn’t sure how long it’d be before the magic left, but if learning to throw a punch could save my life then I’d grin and bear the bad news he gave me at the apartment.

  “This doesn’t seem like it’s in your job description,” I told him.

  “Spirit walkers derive from me,” Dorian said. “Since the numbers are dwindling, and there aren’t enough to take on the task of training, it’s in my hands.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket, setting it off to the side. A tiny part within me was excited to spar with Death. I had been fighting for my life for the past few months, it was nice to have a tangible thing to take my frustrations out on.

  Dorian had chosen a large grassy field that sat outside of town. The glow of the moon bathed the landscape in its silver light. Ice crystals clung to the meadow and glistened. A few lazy clouds hung against the star encrusted sky.

  “Okay, feet shoulder width apart,” Dorian stepped closer, placing his leg between mine and nudging my legs wider. He reached down and clasped my wrists in his hands, bending my arms up in front of my face. I squeezed my fingers into a tight fist; a smile playing on my lips, mimicking the one on Dorian’s face. He was wearing a grey thermal shirt, snug enough to see the definition of his strong arms and sculpted chest. His warm hands lingered on mine a little too long before he took a step back.

  “I want you to punch my hands, alternating with your right and left.” He held his hands out in front of me, and all of a sudden I felt silly. When I hesitated, Dorian lifted an eyebrow and said, “Come on, witch, give it your best shot.”

  No more prodding needed, I struck my right fist out and connected to the meaty flesh of his palm. A loud smack echoed through the night as a stinging sensation crawled its way through my fingers.

  “Again,” Dorian ordered.

  I struck, this time with my left fist.

  “Again.”

  Thwack. I punched with my right and then my left over and over, gaining speed and pain as my fists made contact with Dorian’s hand. After ten minutes, or it could have been an hour, Dorian caught my fist. My breathing was labored and a thin sheen of sweat blanketed my forehead while Dorian looked unfazed by my assault. Jerk.

  “Good job. You’re not as fragile as you look, princess,” Dorian chuckled. That comment earned him a kick to the shin since he still had my hand pinned. He cringed but shook it off. A wide smile spread across my lips.

  “Ew, she’s got a temper too,” Dorian said, releasing my hand and walking a slow circle around me. I pivoted my head to watch him, my body tensing up for his next move. He stopped just behind me, his body pressing against my back. Leaning down, he rested his face against the side of mine so that his lips were poised next to my ear. I bit my lip to restrain my grin from widening. Ever so slowly, Dorian’s arm snaked around my waist, his large hand slipping beneath my unzipped jacket to rest on my stomach. I ignored the tingles that his touch caused, keeping my head in the game. I concentrated on anything but the feel of his hard body behind me and the flexing of his fingers as he bunched my shirt, causing it to rise a little bit.

  “Now, what do you do if your attacker comes from behind?” Dorian whispered. Since it was him playing the part of the attacker, the only thought that came to mind was, let him have his way with me. I’m sure that answer would have pleased Dorian, but we were out here tonight to train, not to flirt.

  Instinctively, my hand began to glow as magic rushed to my fingertips.

  “Ah ahah,” Dorian tsked. “No magic.”

  Ignoring him, I reached my arm up and zapped his hand. When Dorian released me I turned around quick and sent my arm flying through the air and toward his face. I wasn’t quick enough though; he caught my fist midair.

  “Nice try, cupcake, but when your magic fails that won’t work. Let’s try again, this time no cheating.”

  “There’s no cheating in a fight,” I told him. “It’s play dirty or die.”

  The side of Dorian’s mouth lifted up into a smirk. “You may just survive Holly’s wrath after all.”

  I frowned. Had he thought I wouldn’t? If Death wasn’t on my side then I was in some serious trouble. I never asked Dorian when I would die, though I knew he knew. The idea was tempting but too scary to voice.

  In position behind me again, Dorian asked, “What do you do?”

  I remembered the countless movies I’d watched where women took self-defense classes. Though I couldn’t remember all the steps, I knew one. Rising my leg up, knee bent, I thrust it down as hard as I could and stomped on Dorian’s instep. He released me but as I took a step away he reached out and grabbed my arm. Swinging around I—and I’m not proud of this— swatted at his hand.

  “Well that’s not going to hurt anyone,” Dorian teased.

  Deciding my legs could do more damage than my fists; I raised my leg again and kicked out toward his chest. Releasing my hand, he quickly blocked the blow of my spiked boot. He tugged upwards, throwing me off balance. I landed with a hard thump on my butt, Dorian stood over me with a satisfied smile on his lips.

  “You’re adorable when you pout.”

  “I’m not pouting,” I snapped, getting to my feet. I wanted to smack the smug smile off his lips. Stalking towards him, I threw my right arm out and then my left. Dorian blocked each of my blows but that didn’t stop me. I kept coming at him, determined to land a hit. Dorian stepped back and I pushed forward. Punch, block, punch, block. It was a never-ending battle. His soft chuckles taunted me, driving me forward and making my anger skyrocket. Finally I decided to take my own advice—play dirty or die. I directed all of the magic flowing through my body to both of my hands. They lit up like I was holding two balls of bright, blue light. The hesitation in Dorian’s steps was the confidence booster I needed. Flinging my hands in front of me, I cast my magic out and towards Dorian’s chest. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would sting like a son of a bitch.

  The magic smashed into his stomach, throwing him back a couple feet where he landed on his side. I was breathing so hard I had to concentrate on slowing the rapid intake of air. When Dorian didn’t move, didn’t pop up and make some sarcastic comment, fear replaced my exhaustion. I rushed towards him, falling on my knees to inspect his body. His chest still rose and fell with steady breath.

  “Dorian?” I shook his sh
oulder. Fisting his jacket, I turned him over so that I could see his face. His sunglasses had flown off and his eyelids were closed. I leaned down to listen to his heartbeat. The calming thump of his heart echoed in his chest. Leaning back up, I shifted my eyes to his face and then to where I’d hit him. With nervous fingers I lifted his shirt up to reveal his taut stomach. There wasn’t a mark, not even a scratch from where my magic had blasted him.

  “Dorian, wake up!” I tapped his cheek soft at first and then harder. His eyes flinched, a smile lifting his mouth up. Relief washed through me, and then anger. How dare he pretend to be knocked out. His little stunt had about given me a heart attack. I leaned back on my heels, ready to stand up and leave him lying in the field, when he reached out for my arm and I lost my balance. I fell on top of him, his arms encircling my waist and holding me prisoner.

  “Let go,” I warned.

  He snorted, that damned smile still holding strong. “I said no magic.”

  “And I said there are no rules when it comes to fighting. Now that we’re caught up on the conversation, let me go.” I struggled against his body, trying to get my hands underneath me to lift myself up, but Dorian’s hold was unyielding. I was in an awkward position, half on top of him and half off. My legs weren’t any good because if I tried to use them to push myself up, my face planted into Dorian’s chest. I kept my face turned away from him; otherwise we’d be nose to nose. I could only imagine what I looked like. Luckily there weren’t any other witnesses to my shame.