4

The fact that he was aware of her presence didn't come as a shock to her. As he watched her approach, it became clear that he was cognizant of this reality. She started getting pins and needles all over because of how intently he was focusing on her. No discomfort is felt, yet there is the possibility for agony if the situation calls for it. Yet nothing could have ready her for the sight that met her eyes as she opened the door. In the dimness, she could make out the emerald hue of his eyes, which were riveted on her with the intensity of a predator.

Dominic Bright's truth hit me like a punch in the gut. It's like being subjected to an unimaginably powerful attack on your senses.

Slumped on a booth in the cordoned-off VIP area, his actual presence was almost as impressive as his magical one. Over his toned biceps and broad shoulders, he wore a dark T-shirt that was strained to its limits. Under his trousers, he appeared to be sporting a pair of black boots. He had his lengthy legs spread out in front of him.

Masculine. This guy was strikingly masculine. Her curiosity was piqued by his shoulder-length hair, and she imagined what it would be like to run her fingers through it. He stood out because to his distinctive features: a goatee and heavy-lidded, alluring eyes. She had to take a few deep breaths to keep herself from becoming dizzy from the anticipation of the sensuous delights implied by his lips.

He had a tremendous amount of vitality. She was confident he had latent abilities he was only waiting to tap into. She doubted he realised he was a member of the coven and asked him if he knew it. To her, it was as if she could reach out and inhale the sheer strength that emanated from him.

In order to maintain her own authority, she refrained from public displays of sniffing other individuals. As an added bonus, she was able to identify her centre because to the fact that she was well aware that most people do not smell each other in public.

Before moving on, his eyes followed her up her body and lingered on her face. Hello, gorgeous witch, and welcome to the heart of darkness.

The tone of his speech was low and gruff. She had to speak louder than usual to be heard above the music, but he never raised his voice.

Bracing her legs against the prospect that they may crumble if she were a weaker woman, she continued her approach and stopped when her thighs met the table. The fragrance of his magic cloaked and clung to him. It seemed to me that she was starving, so I fed her heavily.

You've been a very naughty boy/man, Mr. Bright.

This, as has been mentioned to me on multiple occasions, is a fact. If I had to guess, I'd say you're from the Owen clan and have come to punish me. That's what the odds are on. And yet, she was nowhere nearby when it happened. Not before she finished handling that other matter, at the very least. Instead of shrieking, she was barely audible, like a whisper on the wind. You used Owen's stuff without his permission.

There was a moment when she almost let out a sigh when he licked his lips and his eyes drooped. It was fantastic. The potency of sex and magic together cannot be overstated.

She smiled at him and arched an eyebrow in his favour. This person possessed a great deal of allure.

But you aren't a hunter, are you?

He knew enough to understand the basic structure of a clan. With that in mind, he has no excuse for his theft. "If I were, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Nothing could be further from our minds than taking your life. Our methods are different than that. Usually or almost always. If you wish to take anything that is rightfully ours, all we ask is that you do so politely.

"May I ask if you could take a seat for a second?" To the One who made everything, his words were a sacrifice. She would never forget the way it twitched ever-so-slightly at the end of each finished statement.

Her gaze rapidly skimmed the women seated on either side of him before returning to his face. She would never talk about Owen's business with anybody else. She disliked having to share his focus with others. Let me know if it's okay if we have a private talk.

When he stood up and gingerly went over the women, Meriel was trying her best not to gulp like a sixteen-year-old girl. He walked the few steps to her, his feverish energy hardly contained. For her sake, it was a good thing that she stood near to six feet tall, for Dominic was easily over six feet and some change.

Can I interest you in accompanying me to my workplace? She allowed him to take the wheel by placing his hand on the small of her back. He held up a hand in a gestural manner. When she felt his hands on her, she nearly collapsed to the floor.

Soon as the Owen witch entered the building, Dominic had a foreboding feeling about her. Her might surged through the building and passed through him like warm silk. Intuition of her presence coursed through his body. She put on her spell while he watched her and Simon drink at the bar.

The scent she left behind was enticing to him. Flavorful of pepper and crispness. Furthermore, low-key and shady, yet with an earthy undertone. Her spells were subtle and at first glance appeared to be straightforward. It might take him a few hours to create something similar. He observed it from a safe distance but couldn't help but be impressed.

Doing what he did best, Simon provoked the other person to an unwarranted level of anger. Although Dominic was getting wound up about the Were's hand on her waist, she flirtatiously stood near by. Dominic's frustration grew in proportion to the space between them; he eventually placed a spell on her and pulled strongly to grab her attention. I mean, as she turned around and he saw her face, he stopped dead in his tracks, captivated by her beauty. When a woman possesses both beauty and strength, she becomes formidable.

Let her know where he was earlier than he had planned to so he could see her come, and he wouldn't have regretted it. Her steps were rhythmic and seductive, as sweet as honey. The combination of her short skirt and her mid-calf Frye boots provided the illusion that her legs were much longer than they actually were, which he found quite attractive.

These shoes are so badass they're insulting. These alleviated his anxiety over the situation's resolution. It seemed like this woman was just as beautiful as the one who would later be stumbling around in sky-high stilettos, and she could have easily run his arse down if he had given her any trouble.

He had investigated Owen before deciding to turn the establishment's back rooms into a club for people who identify as Other. He knew a little bit about Owen, but he didn't know much about the world of clan witches in general. Their leader was Edwina Owen's daughter. One in line after the next

Even though there are countless beautiful ladies in the world, this one has held his interest. This curiosity of his to find out more about her is intriguing. It was so powerful that he had to battle the want to push his tongue deeper into her throat to taste it. She hugged it to herself, protecting it near to her heart. Much like the rest of her, it is well controlled. Trouble was just what he wanted to cause for her. Repeatedly.

Remarkably, in less than ten minutes of meeting the delicious Ms. Owen, he had a strong yearning for her.

He was wary of engaging in sexual activity with any of the other witches. He didn't belong to any one clan, and that made the witches of those clans very possessive of him. They talked about his ties to the clan even before he'd been there for more than a few months.

Not only that, but he wasn't a joiner, either.

In spite of his best efforts, he kept having flashbacks to the scene where she was naked and writhing at his feet, her body laid out for him to consume like though it were a feast. With absolute certainty, he knew he had to thoroughly submerge himself in this woman's body as soon as humanly possible.

The passageway between the club to his office was notably quieter than the club itself. When they danced together, he could hear the hiss of the fabric and her breath. Her scent followed her like a mist, tantalising him and leaving him wanting more.

This need to slow down the pace of things caught him off guard. He wanted to cherish every second he spent with her. As she went to his office and waited there with her back turned to him, he was undoubtedly at fault.

He got physically closer to her, making no effort to hide the predatory intensity of his stare. But for a long while, their magical energies combined as he reached around her to use the easy spell to unlock his door. He made a sexually suggestive motion by tugging at his stomach.

Interesting.

He invited them in and told them to have a seat before shutting the door.

"Hello, I'm Dominic Bright, and I'm sorry I haven't formally introduced myself sooner. After being politely reminded, he bowed slightly.

She waved her hand dismissively. That's not a question, I know exactly who you are. Greetings, my name is Meriel Owen. We both know who the other is. Please explain why you are using our font without permission.

Let's get the witch out of the way first. He needs to wrap things up and move on. He knew about it. He had to put up money or make a contribution. But the scent of her spellwork in the air left him wanting more. He wanted to fight her to quench his hunger for her.

Everyone can benefit from the wards that are located here. I don't see why you'd want to take away even a little amount of the power that I have. He gave a shrug and held his hands out in an attempt to look sensible.

She let out a sigh, her irritation obvious. He was merely encouraged by it.

“Begrudging.” She showed a knowing smirk. "In all seriousness, Mr. Bright. If we begrudged you, we'd be teenage females." Then she gave a shrug. When you steal from our shop, you should not worry about us because we are not a powerful enough organisation to warrant your concern. Her hair slipped forward when she cocked her head, revealing strands of gold, burgundy, and other vibrant colours when the light hit them. He wondered what it might feel like. He occupied his hands with a pen for a moment before reaching out to find out.

"You're utilising our magick without asking, which is really rude. It is abundantly clear that the characteristics of this location demand the installation of sturdy wards to avoid exposure. And you are aware of our stance on being exposed. The larger problem still exists, despite the fact that Clan Owen understands and sympathises with your predicament.

Yeah, he was aware that protecting his people from being exposed to harmful elements was of the utmost importance. Yes, he did give the impression that he thought it was a very excellent idea to keep the nature of what they were a secret.\s"Finally, Mr. Bright, you're a successful businessman. If I wanted a drink, I'd have to ask for it and come up with some kind of payment before I could have one here.\s" Or be so fucking sexy that a Lycian prince gives it to you as a gift."

When she smiled, he felt a pull in the same area of his body that she did. She gave a shrug and then continued, "In life, we each have our own special treats. But in any event, you understand what I'm getting at. The font was designed specifically for use by all of the witches that belong to this clan. There is nothing wrong with it being used by another witch. But, there are guidelines, and even an outcast witch is aware that she must enquire.

Asking questions was something he disliked even more than following the rules. Those damned witches and their fixation on following the rules. In addition, he was aware that in order to reveal his own magical signature, he would need to provide them with information about himself. It bothered him when other people had information about him that they could put to use.

brown eyes that were wise and observant stared into his. Reading his writings. Knowing. Looked right past the exterior mask, straight into his heart and mind. It bothered him that she understood him so well and that they had just been acquainted with each other for a quarter of an hour.

She only managed to catch her bottom lip between her teeth for the tiniest of fractions of a second. But, even just that brief moment was sufficient to send shards of need splintering through his body. Her presence had such an effect on him that, if there had been any magic involved, he would have sensed it. Because he had very effective personal shields, he would have been alerted if she had attempted to ensorcel him. Simply being close to her and feeling the taste of her magick on his skin had given him a feeling of being somewhat inebriated.

He did not have faith in it. Did not place any faith in something that was that quick and intense.

When she did finally speak, she broke the quiet and saved him from the impulse to blurt out that he wanted to take her back to his house and strip her nude. She also broke the tension that had been building up between them. He wanted to see what the sunrise looked like on her neck, what shadows it would produce in the hollow of her throat, and the dip that was in her belly button. He also wanted to see what it did to her belly button.

If it makes a difference, I can choose to close my eyes whenever you share magick with me. Is that all there is to it?"

He had to take a breath because he couldn't get the words out. Perceptive. To the point where it caused him to feel unsettled inside. He made a gesture to clear his throat. He expressed his irritation by saying, "I don't share magick very often," and it was audible in his voice. Plenty for her to respond by raising both of her eyebrows.

She took a forward seat and deliberated over her word choice. "Listen, I know that you're most likely not linked with anything for a reason, and we appreciate that decision. We're a clan, not a cult. Everyone here is a member of their own free will. People will always make their own decisions, and that's just acceptable. Your decision is one that I respect. But, the typeface is controlled by each witch in the clan, and they have come to an agreement that allows others to use it so long as everyone contributes equally. That is the way that it operates. We all contribute to it. That is useful for each of us. If we enable you to steal from the shop, others will as well. If that's the case, then what's the point? You have decided against joining a clan, and that is entirely up to you. Yet, you did not make the decision to take from us. That won't happen on our watch.

She stopped, giving her audience some time to process what she had just stated. No matter how gorgeous her face was, he would never take her for a pushover. She was a clever and vicious lady who, if she had to, would kick his ass all the way from Seattle to Toronto. Which served only to stoke his appetite for more.

Her tone became more soothing as she said, "No one can get inside your thoughts." Nobody will be able to take your magick.

"Yet, the font operates in such a manner. You get your strength from the witches that are a part of the clan.

She formed a frown, at first showing her annoyance and then her confusion. Inexplicably, he felt the want to chuckle.

"No, that's not how the font works," the speaker responded. She turned the bracelet that was on her left wrist, revealing the clan mark that was on it. A lovely monogram of the letter O, for Owen. "Has nobody ever taken the time to explain it to you?"

He appeared to be confused. He did not require her pity in any way. "I've been given sufficient information to get by. I didn't grow up in a family clan. My foster father used to be my teacher, but now he doesn't have any ties to any organisation.

She showed her agreement by nodding and tucking her hair behind her ear. "It makes sense. I'm not trying to put down your intelligence or make fun of what you've been taught, but you have no idea how the system operates. When you use up magick—if you're programmed into the font, that is—the magick that was previously performed will be reabsorbed. It might be thought of as a collector.

She had to have noticed the bewilderment on his face.

"Alright, so you know that energy can never be destroyed; rather, it merely transforms itself into something new. That's just basic physics. It's not like I dreamed it up out of thin air. In any case, the font does not syphon away any of your power. It gathers whatever form the magick takes when its purpose has been accomplished and it has served. In the same way that a cistern collects rainwater, for instance. Only the energy that has been lost and then retrieved will eventually transform into magical energy, and it will always be available in case someone needs it. Basically, if you were a registered user of the font, a glimmer of energy would travel back to the font every time someone went through those wards. This would only happen if someone stepped through those wards. But, given that you are not currently logged in, this cannot happen. Either it is not used at all, or it is put to good use by the witches that frequent this club. Even if I do not have a nightclub of my own, the very thought of doing something like that seems ridiculous to me. Combining alcoholic beverages, pheromones, plus additional magical might is a recipe for disaster.

She leaned back and crossed her legs, exposing the white flesh on the inside of her thighs. Oh my god, at any second now he was going to drool or throw up or something. Even so, he wasn't so far gone that he failed to notice the knowledge she possessed or the calm assurance with which she held herself. He noticed both of these things.

"We're not like the other clans in any way," they said. I'm not here to harm you, even though I'd want to bite you right there on your biceps, but I won't because I'm not allowed to. Just because it looks tasty." She seemed startled by what she had just said, as seen by the slight blush that appeared on her face. Because he was in a similar position at the time, he could relate to how you were feeling.

"You are more than free to bite any part of me that strikes your fancy. Within acceptable bounds"

"I'll be sure to remember that," you say. After that, her flirtatious manner vanished, and it was evident that she was ready to get down to business. "You are required to key in or we will terminate your call. On this point, we do not negotiate. If you try to get into the font once more, I won't be there to stop you, but our hunters will, and they won't be nearly as lovely as I am." After relaying the threat, she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"You argue that no one is required to be clan, yet it is very evident that they do."

She expressed her dissatisfaction with that response by making a face. "You are just too gorgeous to be such a baby. You are powerful, that much is clear to me, but you do not have the necessary level of expertise to protect this location on your own. You are welcome to key in with me, however I hasten to clarify that doing so will not immediately entitle you to membership in Clan Owen. You would have access to the font and, let's be honest here, some goodwill, which might make it possible for this establishment to continue operating inside our jurisdiction. You might also attempt it on your own, minus the typeface that we provided. You and I are both aware of the outcome of the situation.

If that were the case, it would be very challenging for me to persuade you to accompany me on a date.

She halted herself and reddened ever-so-slightly before continuing. The openness of the situation caused the time that normally passed in between them to drag out for several moments.

She had spent each and every day of her life in the company of witches. There was always something familiar and reassuring about that. It depended on the other witch, but there were occasions when it was also fascinating or even arousing. But the connection that they had, the way that she couldn't stop thinking about touching him, and the way that the mark of his magick caught her breath were all indicators that this was a new kind of experience. Deeper. A little bit terrifying, but mostly exhilarating.

It just so happened that she had a strong liking for this man, and it gave her great joy to learn that he felt the same way about her. Also, he was a very skilled flirt.

"Yeah, it's very likely that I would be extremely irritated if you forced me to come all the way down here and then refused to log in, and then you called me to ask me out on a date." Tell Turandot, "which is in town and something I quite love," and she will respond. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, but she quickly covered it up and resumed her best effort to maintain a calm appearance.

"And, if you'd like, I can give you a bit of a primer on other things about us that you may not know or understand," the speaker continued. "[...] I can do that if you like."

"Would it be possible for me to join you?"

"Of course." She waited for him to finish mulling over his response before continuing. She was not going to force him to make a decision or hurry him forward. Because he was a successful businessman, he was well aware of the necessity of taking such measures in order to conceal the entrance. Yet he would have to find a way to accept it because she has sufficient power to dismiss him there and then if he didn't accept it. With a single quick spell, she could cut all of those linkages to the font, and his spellwork would gradually lose effectiveness without the vast amounts of energy that he had been stealing.

"

And in addition to that? I could participate in other activities with you?

It was impossible for her to refute it. They would leave tooth marks and more than a few scratches on the bed when they finally went to sleep. They shared such a strong connection with one another. Energy? Absolutely, but that's not quite what I had in mind. That would be chemistry. Attraction, certainly. Potential. That's exactly how it appeared to be, too.

"Let's start by keying in, and then we can explore other aspects of your concept." Her body tingled with excitement at the prospect of performing magical rituals beside him. When she moved her shields further away from herself, a surge of power coursed through her and began to accumulate within her. Never previously has it been the case with anyone else like this.

In a normal situation, her magick would increase as she let down her defences, but this was more of a surge of energy than anything else. Increasing in intensity as a response to his. She was aware that she was making fun of him with hers. Understood that strands of it glided over his body, alluring him. It took her to her knees, in both a literal and figurative sense.

It wouldn't make a difference if the building collapsed on top of them at this point. There was absolutely nothing else in the entire world that she desired more than to discuss magic with Dominic Bright.

"May I ask for your permission to cast a ward and create a circle in this room?"

The way that she looked had captivated him completely. Enticed and captivated by each and every aspect of her being. Both her demeanour and intelligence have left an impression on me. On the other hand, the surge of her energy had flowed over and through him with such force that it manifested physically. His own defences had been overcome, and as a result, his magick had begun to rise. The sheer delight of it brought him straight down to his toes. And possibly one or two other locations.

It should come as no surprise that doing magick with a council witch was a significantly more taxing experience than doing so with a commonwealth witch. Whatever it was, it had an incredible sensation, and he yearned for much more of it.

Her explanation of how the font worked had, admittedly, helped him feel better after he heard it. It's not like he had much of a choice in the matter, either. When she indicated that he lacked the talent to maintain the wards and other charms working on his own, she had been entirely correct in her assessment of the situation. And he had no interest in endangering his own people by acting like a self-centered slob who was careless.