The Bewitching Hour Read online

  Letting go of Fiona, Hector helped her up the ladder to Caine’s outstretched hand. He felt a sense of loss when she was out of his arms. Maybe it was just the scare they had. The adrenaline rush. It couldn’t possibly be that he was head over heels lovestruck with a woman that he’d just met.

  Things like that just didn’t happen. But then, again, he was in Necropolis. And strange things were par for the course.

  Chapter 2

  The service was beautiful, once Fiona was able to fix her hair and get into line with the other two bridesmaids, Eve and Gwen. Surprisingly, even after being hauled out of the top of an elevator, jumping into a man’s arms and climbing up a ladder to be rescued, her dress was still immaculate. Not a dirty spot on it. But that was what clean spells were for. To protect one’s attire from unplanned disaster.

  Lyra was a breathtaking bride in ivory lace, but that didn’t surprise Fiona. Love did that to a person. Made them radiate and glow. And the groom, well—Theron was just gorgeous. Polished and perfect. Despite that, Fiona couldn’t keep her focus on the ceremony or her gaze off one particular person in the audience. Hector Morales was too damn sexy for words in his dark suit, long, dark wavy hair, with flecks of gray at the temple, and five o’clock shadow.

  A couple of times she felt his gaze on her, as well. It was probably because he was waiting for something else to go wrong around her. She hadn’t been exactly charming in the elevator. She had babbled at him and then shorted out the electricity. Not exactly smooth behavior. She’d also been a complete dork on top of the elevator with her fear of heights and her clumsy jump into his arms. She knew her elbow had plowed into his gut. Thankfully no lower. But he hadn’t made a sound. He didn’t comment, either. She appreciated that.

  Once Lyra and Theron said their vows and lit candles to thank the spirits, the priestess performing the ceremony pronounced them to be man and wife. The audience, a mix of vampire and lycan and witch, some from very powerful families both inside Necropolis and out, rose and clapped as the couple walked arm in arm down the aisle. Gwen and Eve followed behind, then Fiona. As she walked in the procession, she tried hard not to pick Hector out of the crowd. She kept her eyes ahead of her and concentrated on taking controlled steps forward.

  But as things were in her world, nothing went as planned.

  She tripped on the ivory runner down the aisle and her bouquet of white and pink daises popped out of her hands and tumbled to the ground. Embarrassed, Fiona went to pick them up, but someone beat her to it.

  Hector’s gaze met hers as she straightened and he gave her the flowers. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded quickly, flustered by the amused look on his face. “I’m good.” She lifted the flowers. “Thanks for, um—”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She wanted to say more, but she caught sight of someone in her peripheral vision. Someone she really didn’t ever want to see again.

  Clutching the bouquet to her chest, she made her escape and caught up with the wedding party. They were going into the atrium for the wedding photos. While they were to be inundated with light spots from the camera flash, the rest of the attendees would be getting ready to find their assigned table. Fiona didn’t mind. It would give her time to clamp down on her nerves and stop being a clumsy fool. The last thing she wanted was to give Hector the impression that she was ridiculous.

  She’d been battling that label ever since high school. She’d been tall and gangly without any grace whatsoever. Boys made fun of her. Until she spelled them, of course, but still the ridicule hurt. And managed to stay with her. Obviously.

  Even some in the magical world thought her silly. One of them just happened to be in attendance. Because of her belief in astrology and signs and portents, some called her a pseudo witch. She just had a firm belief in fate. Some things were meant to be. And some were not. She wasn’t quite sure in what category to put her growing attraction to the human crime scene investigator.

  When Hector had her tight in his arms, she’d actually felt willowy and dainty. Maybe it was because he was so masculine and sexy. He wasn’t a huge man like a brutish bodybuilder, but he was a little bit taller than she was, and he possessed wide shoulders and hands. She liked how they felt around her, on her. As if he could lift her up and hold her, the way Atlas held the world. Corny, she knew, but it was still how she felt.

  Maybe she was romantizing the event too much. Hector saved her. He probably did that a lot considering the line of work he was in. She shouldn’t read into his actions. He did it because that was the kind of man he was. An everyday hero. It definitely wasn’t because he found her irresistible.

  Someone nudged her in the ribs. “Fi, I’ve been talking to you for the past two minutes.”

  Fiona blinked into Lyra’s big brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.”

  “Was this something tall, dark and named Hector Morales?”

  She shook her head but looked down at her feet. “No. I was thinking about how lovely your ceremony was and how happy you look.”

  “Yeah, I’d believe that, if you hadn’t been looking at Hector the entire time.”

  “I wasn’t,” she sputtered.

  Lyra arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, maybe a little.”

  Lyra put her arm around her shoulders. “Hector’s a good man. You could use a good man in your life.”

  Fiona looked sideways at her. “You know, when I said that to you eight months ago, you nearly hit me.”

  “Well, that was before.”

  Fiona saw the looks Lyra and Theron were trading from across the room. It was full-blown heart-pounding love. A little pang of jealousy stabbed at her. She wanted that. A man who looked at her as if he couldn’t take his next breath without her at his side.

  She couldn’t have been happier that Lyra had found that kind of relationship with Theron. Her cousin had been far too long alone.

  “I see Oliver is here.”

  Lyra frowned. “Yeah, Theron thought it was best that we invite members of all the powerful families in the city and from Europe. You know, to keep the peace between species.”

  “Is it working?” Fiona asked.

  Lyra shrugged. “Who the hell knows?”

  After the last pictures were taken, the wedding party took their places at the head table and the meal was served. Starving, Fiona savored the salmon, rice pilaf and roasted asparagus spears. It wasn’t until she caught Hector’s gaze from across the room that she was aware that she had some of the lemon saffron cream smeared on her chin. Mortified, she grabbed the linen napkin and hid her face.

  When she peeked past the napkin, she saw that Hector was still looking at her, a smile on his handsome face. She smiled in return and waved her napkin like a flag. An “I surrender” flag. Could she be a bigger dork? Not wanting to know the answer to that question, Fiona excused herself from the table and went in search of a glass of wine. Maybe if it looked like she was drinking, people would assume she was drunk and that was the reason why she was so inelegant.

  She sidled up to the bar, which was located near the stone fountain, and ordered a white wine spritzer. As she waited for her drink, she admired the white twinkling lights all over the rooftop. It gave the whole place a magical atmosphere, as if Lyra and Theron had gotten married in the sky among thousands of blazing stars.

  She smiled at her whimsy, obviously overwhelmed by the enchanting ceremony. During a night like this one, it seemed anything was possible. At least the lights were still on. That was something. She hadn’t blown out the breaker. She’d done that once at prom. It wasn’t one of her best events.

  Taking a sip from her glass, Fiona turned, intending to go back to the table when she came face-to-face with Hector. Surprised, she said, “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.

  “Ah, it’s an open bar, isn’t it?”

  Fiona winced at her gaffe. “Right.”

  “Di
d you enjoy the meal?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it was very good.” She chuckled. “But you probably could see that by the sauce all over my face.”

  “It was just on your chin.”

  She laughed and was about to say something else, when Henri, Theron’s best man from France, stood up to make an announcement.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Theron and Lyra will now for the first time dance as husband and wife.”

  The crowd started to clap as soft music started to play, and Theron led Lyra out onto the dance floor. Fiona watched, a wistful smile on her face, as the happy couple moved gracefully across the floor, their gazes never leaving each other.

  Startled, Fiona felt a hand at the small of her back. She glanced up. Hector was standing right next to her.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She nodded and he took her wine glass from her and set it onto the bar counter. He then took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor. Caine and Eve, and Jace and Tala, whose belly was swollen with twins, all coworkers of Lyra’s from the crime lab, were already whirling around the floor with the bride and groom.

  “I’m not much of a dancer,” Fiona admitted.

  “Me, neither,” Hector said with a smile. He pulled her in close, his hand settled firmly at the small of her back. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

  And manage they did. By the time the song was over, she was giddy. Having Hector so close, his heart hammering against hers, made the insides of her thighs squeeze tight. His scent was subtle—a combination of spice and clean soap—and it tickled her senses. She liked his smell. It made her feel safe and secure. As did his strong arms encircling her body.

  After the last notes of the song played and everyone was clapping, Hector looked at her. His mouth was a mere inch from hers. She held her breath, thinking he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to, desperately. Her lips parted in invitation.

  “May I cut in?”

  Startled, Fiona nearly knocked her head against Hector’s. She turned and saw Oliver, a witch from one of the wealthy magical families, standing next to them waiting, a winning smile on his pale face. He was also her ex-boyfriend.

  “Of course,” Hector said, and relinquished his hold on her, although she could tell that he didn’t want to. “I can’t keep all the beautiful ladies to myself.”

  “No, you certainly cannot.” Oliver said it with a smile, but Fiona didn’t feel the lightheartedness of the statement in his words. There was really nothing lighthearted about Oliver.

  Hector didn’t comment, but he lifted one eyebrow in question.

  Oliver laughed. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” He took Fiona’s hand and brought his other around to rest at her waist.

  “No of course not.” Hector tipped his head and took a step back.

  But Fiona didn’t want him to go. She wanted to dance with him still. She wanted that moment back. That moment, that beautiful perfect second, right before his lips touched hers and their breath mingled in sighs of release. As she watched Hector walk away, she wondered if she’d ever get that moment again.

  The music started and Oliver waltzed her around the room. What she really wanted to do was to stomp on the man’s foot.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Fiona. You’re looking very well.”

  “Thank you,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Are you not happy to see me?”

  “You don’t want me to lie, do you?”

  He laughed. “Oh, Fiona. I’ve always enjoyed your sense of humor.”

  “Can we just dance? I’m not in the mood to talk to you about anything of importance.”

  He didn’t respond, but she got the feeling that he wasn’t very happy with her comments. She was beyond caring. She just wanted to get out of his arms and back into Hector’s, where she could feel safe and cared for. Because she was feeling the exact opposite being held by Oliver.

  Chapter 3

  Feeling slightly jilted, Hector returned to his table. He sat and watched as Fiona was waltzed around the dance floor by another man. It wasn’t as if he could say no when the man asked if he could cut in. It would’ve been rude. And he really didn’t want to appear rude, not in a room full of Otherworlders. By the looks of it, Eve and he were the only humans at the ceremony. An honor to be certain, but a precarious one as well.

  Not all Otherworlders were as open and welcoming as the members of the OCU. He’d learned that over the past couple of years he’d been working with them.

  He sipped his drink as the next song started up and the man took Fiona for another dance. He was looking at her as if he was quite enchanted. Hector couldn’t blame the guy. He’d been bewitched, as well, by the breathtaking, statuesque redhead.

  “Sitting this one out?”

  Hector nodded as his friend Caine slid into the vacant seat next to him. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “It looked like you were doing quite well before.”

  He glanced at the vampire, knowingly. “Yeah, well, I had a good partner.”

  “Fiona’s a lovely woman. I haven’t known her long. A couple of years at most. But she is definitely a person that remains in your memory long after.”

  Hector looked at Fiona as she danced. She was smiling and her silken hair swung around her like dancing flames. How his fingers itched to touch it, to touch her again. Her skin had been smooth in his, and when he’d spun her around in the dance he could feel her heart racing as wildly as his.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “So, then, why are you letting her dance with some stuck-up witch?”

  “Because it’s safer.”

  “Nonsense.” Caine frowned. “Everyone is on their best behavior. You don’t have to worry about anyone here.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Hector took another sip of his drink.

  Caine lifted one brow. “Ah. I see.”

  “How do you—” he cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of exactly what he wanted to ask “—and Eve manage your differences?”

  “Like any other couple, I suppose.”

  “But you’re not like any other couple. You’re two completely different species.”

  “Every man and every woman have differences. If a man and a woman want each other, if they want to be together badly enough, they’ll do what they must to make it work.” He smiled. “Sometimes it just takes creativity and patience. Lots and lots of patience.”

  Eve came up behind Caine and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “What are the two of you talking about?”

  “Hector was just asking how I’ve managed to keep you in line all this time.” Caine grabbed her arm and managed to swing her around so she was sitting in his lap. The move was smooth and practiced. Just like a vampire to be so cool.

  “You both better hope to God that that wasn’t what you were talking about,” Eve said, squirming in Caine’s lap.

  Caine planted a firm kiss on her mouth. She sighed, snuggling into him. Hector looked away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. His gaze swept the room and landed firmly on Fiona, who was standing near the head table talking to Lyra. Her head was down, but something made it come up and her gaze locked with his. In that second, his breath was nearly knocked from his chest.

  “Oh, and if I can give you any advice, my friend.”

  Hector glanced back at Caine.

  “Don’t waste time.”

  With that statement, Hector was up and out of his seat. He crossed the floor swiftly, his gaze never leaving Fiona’s. Her lips twitched as he drew near, and by the time he was only two feet away her smile was blossoming.

  But he never got that chance to reach her.

  Henri was back at the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now toss her bouquet.”

  Fiona’s smile faded as a swarm of single ladies grabbed her and propelled her into the middle of the dance floor. Hector couldn’t believe he’d been dashed again.

&nb
sp; Lyra stood on the edge of the dance floor, her back to the murmuring throng of single ladies waiting impatiently for the flowers to be tossed back. On a count of three, she threw her bouquet over her head and into the crowd of women.

  Amused, Hector watched as the women struggled to reach for the bouquet. And in the middle of it was Fiona, wide-eyed and frightened by the jostling mob around her. He had to smile. She looked so out of place and out of her element. He had an urge to dive into the crowd and save her.

  But he didn’t have to. She managed to push through the throng and save herself. Laughing at the ridiculousness of it, she propelled herself out of the mob and ended up standing right in front of Hector. He smiled just before the bouquet came barreling down on top of her head.

  It bounced off her red curls and landed at her feet. She glanced down at it, then up at him, then back toward the women who were screaming and racing toward her. Before the crowd could squash her, Hector grabbed her hand and pulled her from harm’s way. The movement caused him to go sailing back into a chair and Fiona ended up in his lap, laughing uncontrollably.

  “I thought I was going to die there for a minute,” she managed to say after getting control of her laughter.

  “So did I.” Hector laughed. “Death by bouquet.”

  That caused her to burst into another round of hysterics. By the time she was done, tears streamed down her cheeks. Hector loved the sound of her laugh. It was full of heart and soul. Nothing was held back, and he wondered if that was how she lived her life. Full out. Never holding back.

  Was that how she’d be in bed? She was an extremely passionate woman, and he couldn’t help but wonder what making love to her would be like. This wasn’t probably a good thing to think about, considering she was squirming and moving around on his lap.

  She must’ve sensed his thoughts, because suddenly she stopped laughing and moving and really looked at him. Her cheeks were pink, and he wondered if she could hear what he was thinking. God, he hoped not. Or maybe he did. It would eliminate any pretenses.

  He wanted her. In all kinds of desperate ways.