A Demon’s Book Of Shadows (Witches & Demons #1)

25. Lucy

25

Lucy

My magic was blooming out of nowhere, and I was so sick of seeing the colors that I could puke. I needed to stretch my legs and work through the new colorful sensations, but all I wanted to do was return to the velvety satin fabric of Amon’s shadows. The one thing I did like about my magic was how Amon seemed to be reacting to it.

My mind kept drifting back to my hot, steamy explosion in the shower. Amon had pleased me first, something Jason never imagined doing. Now all I wanted to do was rip his pants off and finish him the way he did with his “ I want to worship you ” comment.

It was apparent that his shadows had more to do with his magic, and his sexual appetite, than I thought.

We passed a rock shop, one of Grace’s favorites. The crystals inside had so many colors exploding out of them that I must have lost my mind.

I stopped to peer through the window. “Wow. I can’t believe how many colors these rocks are putting off. Crystal would be so impressed.”

“Who is Crystal?” Amon asked, sliding up beside me.

“She’s a fictional witch character in a story I wrote.”

One of Amon’s brows arched as a perplexed expression took over his face. “You write?”

I turned away from the window and started walking. Why did I have to open my big, fat mouth?

Amon took two steps with his long legs and caught up with me. “I thought you just liked books. I didn’t think you were working on one.”

I shrugged as we padded down the street toward Shadow Daddy’s. “I’ve always wanted to be an author and share stories that I love. I figure that not everyone will love it, but someone will, right?”

Amon shook his head, sending a few of his stray black hairs into his face. “I could never write. When Dad wanted me to go into the family grimoire business, I backed out.” He cocked his head sideways. “But you, on the other hand, it sounds like you have this book thing all worked out.”

I chose to focus on the new colorful energies sprouting out of every crack, tree root, and patch of earth that wasn’t asphalt along the sidewalk instead of acknowledging Amon’s compliment.

Amon’s elbow nudged my arm. “What’s this book about?”

“I told you, a witch named Crystal.”

“I got that part. What inspired you to write it?”

My footsteps sped up. “My father’s love of nature. Most of what I appreciate about magic comes from what he taught me as a child.”

Amon kept pace, his feet hovering over the sidewalk as he drifted beside me. “What does Crystal the witch do? ”

“She gathers crystals that have magical symbols locked inside of them. Once she has so many crystals, she can eventually put together a spell that she can read, one made of the earth magic created by familiars. The whole idea for the book was to use magical symbolism to help children cope with dyslexia.”

“Sounds like a great start for a book, except for the familiar magic part.”

“So what is your artistic outlet, then, other than harassing librarians?” I asked, knowing he'd lived in this town for a while.

A wicked grin crept up his face. “I can tell you that it’s not baking shitty pastries like my brother does.”

I laughed. “My oldest sister tells me that demons are rumored to turn destructive if they don’t have an outlet for their creative magic.”

“She’s not incorrect.”

“What makes a demon turn into a cannibalistic monster like the Bone Threader?”

“It’s boredom. Wendigos are created when a demon becomes so bored with his shadows, that he begins to feed on others.” He ran his hand through his hair, making it spike. “My father tried to stop the Bone Threader, but by the time he sank his teeth and claws into the archives, it was too late. Every grimoire created after he took over was created with his shadow cannibalizing ways.”

I slowed my pace. “Wait, so the shadow archives haven’t always been that way?”

“No. The Bone Threader took over the shadow archives after the death of my mother.”

Amon’s words hit me hard. Empathy wallowed in my gut .

“So, this book you’re writing, is it a novel?” Amon asked, steering the conversation away from death.

“Oh, no. It’s a children’s picture book. After meeting you, I might need to put a few chapters in about the ferocity of demons. Piss me off, and I might turn you into the villain.”

“So you think I’d make a good ferocious villain in your book?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Amon grabbed my hand. He hiked his head back, chuckling darkly. “Oh, Lucy. You have yet to learn about a demon’s true nature. We are not always the most straightforward of creatures. But ferocious? Nah.”

I knew he was flirting, but it wasn’t working. I just wanted to get my magic under control and return it to its state of dormancy. My mind raced back to the kinky serpent sex we almost had while in the shower. “Why do I get the feeling that your tattoos like to be kinky?”

His mouth quirked, and I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t disagreeing with me. “You already know them a lot better already than I do.”

“What if I told you that I’d like to get to know them better?”

Amon's face crimsoned.

My belly warmed. Kinky was an understatement. Amon’s tattoos had unraveled from his forearms and caressed my belly. The sensation had been both cool and warm, and slightly tingly. It felt like being stroked by a feather that knew just the spots to tickle and leave alone.

I walked faster, but Amon tugged me back, forcing me to match his lollygagging place. “We’ve spent enough time stressing over a grimoire. I want to know more about this children’s book you’ve written. When’s it getting published?” he asked.

“Why are you so interested?”

“Because it’s something you love, right? You should see the colors in your aura right now.”

I flushed. Jason never took an interest in my writing projects. “I’ve just never had someone ask so much about a story they didn’t know about.”

Amon’s cheeks dimpled. The tall, lanky demon actually looked childish.

“I have the entire book written, but I haven’t yet found an artist. I can’t find anyone to illustrate the contrast I want in Crystal’s quest to find all of the elements.”

“What do you mean by contrast?”

I squeezed his hand, loving his callused warmth. “You know, varying shades of light and darkness.”

“ Well, it’s sure dark where I am right now .”

I stubbed my toe in a crack on the sidewalk as a familiar voice crowded my head. “ Grubs ?”

“ Hi. Have you missed me ?”

“ Not really. I thought you went off to chrysalis ?” I added.

“ Well, I was. Then I sort of got stuck .”

“ Where ?”

“ You should see the tunnels beneath town. A whole bunch of my cousins are here. We’ve found something . You know those rose petals Amon gave me? I think I know who bewitched them .”

“ Melrose ?”

“ No. They came from a witch though .”

“ Can’t you just tell me who this witch is ?” I pleaded.

“ No can do. That would be violating familiar code with the earth. A witch’s hair, nails, bones, and any piece of nature her magic has touched is guarded by us. What’s buried remains unheard, unspoken, and unseen, until, of course, I bring it up for you to see. But that would require me getting out of this claustrophobic situation I’ve found myself in .”

I pinched my brow. Grubs could be such a pain sometimes. Why couldn’t I have gotten a black cat as my familiar like every other stereotypical witch?

“ I heard that .”

One of Amon’s brows arched. “Is someone talking to you?”

“Grubs is. He’s just being annoying.”

“Tell the little fucker that I’m taking care of his witch better than he can.”

My bookworm's annoying voice died away as we rounded the corner onto Main Street. The neon Shadow Daddy sign wasn’t lit up.

Amon tugged me sideways, steering me toward the alleyway. I swore the bricks on the building began to vibrate.

“What kind of band does your brother play in?” I asked as the music pulsed through me.

“Heavy metal,” Amon griped. “And it sounds like they’re just now warming up.”

“It’s hotter than Hades’ taint in here!” a gravely male voice echoed through the door .

Amon sighed. “I really hope that’s not the new band name.” He held the door open for me, and I walked inside. Whoever had yelled before wasn’t wrong. The air was scalding hot. A blast of cinnamon and something floral swirled around me as Amon’s shadows propped the door open.

“Zed, why is it so fucking hot in here?” Amon growled, his shadows dispersing as soon as we entered the bar.

I fanned myself from the heat, and from the sight of him. Amon was all darkness and ebony silk again. Why must his shadows turn me on?

Another shadowy mass approached me, belonging to whom I assumed was Amon's brother. But his textures weren’t silky. They were like choppy water after a storm blew in. They also didn’t exude Amon’s delicious musky scent.

“Krim left his ovens on overnight. He’s been baking like a crazy person,” the shadows replied, until the choppy waves fell away. I swore I saw a skeleton standing there, a pair of drumsticks clutched in his bony hand. A man dressed in a leather biker jacket with black pants appeared. No hair was present on his shiny, bald head.

“Krim bakes when he is stressed,” Amon chided, nerves ringing in his voice.

“Yeah, well. With all this new business with the wendigo, I can’t blame him,” Zed said, his electric green eyes glowing as they swept to me. “Ah, this must be Lucy the librarian my brother is so lucky to have in his boring life.” He thrust a just as callused hand as his older brother out for me to take .

I took his hand, and his fingers cracked under my grip. For someone having such a large, bony hand, the sound was disgustingly accurate. “I didn’t volunteer to help him. He pretty much told me to.”

Zed pulled his hand away, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “Amon tells me you got a wendigo threatening to devour your library?”

“Not only that, but I hear he’s going to do some irreversible damage to the shadow archives.”

Zed grabbed the drumsticks from his pocket and swiveled one of them between his gritty fingers. “Well, we might just be able to scare him off with this jam. Boys?”

Three other men lifted their guitars and a microphone. “We’re ready!”

Zed withdrew into the bar, leaving me to fend for myself next to Amon. His shadows behaved strangely. Some coalesced, while other figures distanced themselves, seeming to have quiet discussions about what to expect from Zed.

A couple of spotlights illuminated the four band members as they took up their places in the center of the bar.

Zed flopped down on a stool behind a drum set and hiked his drumsticks over his head. “Release the Nematodes!”

An electric guitar and two bass jammed off a horrible warbling chord as Zed slammed his sticks into his drums.

“Wow, the Nematodes? That is super lame,” Amon chortled, waving his hand as the heavy metal exploded. His shadows formed a buffer, preventing the music from interrupting us. I’d seen my mom perform this simple spell dozens of times, yet Amon’s magic felt quietly intimate.

His hand came to mine, one after another, until my fingers were interwoven with what felt like a dozen different shadows. Their touch was cool and inviting, each exploring my wrist and fingers.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, startled with the sudden display of affection from so many of them. A bead of sweat trickled down my ribcage.

“Shadow serpents respond to vibrations,” Amon growled.

My gaze dropped to his crotch. “Judging by the serpents in your pants, I’d say that you are rather turned on right now.”

Amon’s jaw hardened. The veins in his neck bulged. The serpents retreated into the tall shadow bodies that surrounded us.

Lighting and thunder broke the music, exposing another side of him that I hadn’t seen before. His hand forced through the shadows, finding my wrist and grabbing it. He held my arm up, inspecting each of my fingers like he was reading them. “I need the light of you that compliments my shadows.”

I’d never had a guy express that he needed me before. I was overcome with the textures of him. His constant cooling and unbelievable warmth. His gentleness.

He pressed his lips to my index finger, closing his eyes. An eyelash fluttered down from his face, brushing past my wrist as he planted the most sensual kiss on my palm. The roughness of his stubble grazed my skin, making me shiver.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered back to him .

“I can stop. It’s them I don’t trust to listen if you ask me to keep going.”

My heart skipped. That rolling wave of pleasure from the shower filled my gut all over again.

The music finished, striking a high screeching note that broke my focus.

Amon caught me as my knees gave out. He helped me regain my footing. As the music faded, muffled clapping sounded behind us.

“Is the Neeeematooooode’s all you’ve goooot, Zeeeeddy? Come oooon. You shoooould have stuuuuuck with my suggeeeeestion for the Raaaaging Booooners.”

Amon’s eyes glassed over. “Dad?”

An equally glassy-eyed demon stared at us both. He sported a wicked wide grin nearly identical to the one I saw a few moments ago on Amon.