Coveted - Chapter 2

Hi, guys. Here is chapter two of Coveted as promised. If you haven't read chapter one, you can find it HERE.
I finally have an offical release date. Yay! November 16th. It's a little later than I would have liked but 2 months earlier had I used the original editor. ENJOY! Chapter Two On the drive back from Aiden’s house I thought about our relationship. Man, it sucked we found ourselves in the awkward place we now were. The temptation to forgive him was overwhelming. Everything within me still yearned for him, needed him. So why the hell wasn’t I turning my car around and heading back to his place for an epic make up session? This is where the stubbornness would come into play. If I swept Aiden’s betrayal under the rug, then it was possible he’d deceive me again. He needed to know that I wouldn’t tolerate his lies, whether Brew was to blame or not. I learned people will treat me the way I allow them to. I had enough to worry about without wondering whether or not the man I loved was keeping secrets. So, because I’m hard headed, we both had to suffer. And let’s not forget he killed a witch. Murder is a pretty serious offense in my book.

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. It seemed my days and nights slowed 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 responsibility?”

The funny thing was, I’d 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 by 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.” 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 getting 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’d reached fifty feet or so, he motioned for me to join him. Stomping through the tall grass, I made my way over to him. 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 I’d just gotten.

 “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’d been fighting for my life for the past few months, it was nice to have a tangible thing to take my frustrations out on.

“Okay, feet shoulder width apart,” Dorian stepped closer, reaching his leg between mine and nudging my legs wider. He reached down and clasped my wrist 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 fist 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 smiled, 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 ah ah,” 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 information was tempting but too scary to know.

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. Raising 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 fist; 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 standing 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 all 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 shoulder. Fisting his jacket, I turned him over so that I could see his face. His sunglasses had flown off his face 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.

“You can wiggle all you want,” Dorian said. “I’m rather enjoying it.” At that I stilled, my body going limp and melting against his. Now that I’d calmed down, I noticed the scent of his cologne—woodsy and clean. I wanted to inhale deep, take it into my lungs and store it in my memory, but that would have defeated the point I was trying to make. I was mad, reeling and frustrated beyond belief. But man, did he smell good, and the feel of his body just beneath mine threatened to penetrate my resolve.

His fingers flexed on the small of my back. Frustrations gone, I was hyperaware of those hands and the path they were beginning to follow. I held my breath as they slid across the hollow of my back. My shirt had come up a little bit with my earlier struggle, and the warmth of Dorian’s fingers on my bare skin was making me forget why I was mad in the first place.

“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened in Massachusetts?” Dorian’s voice was low, smooth and raspy with his inner thoughts. Given what question he’d just asked, I could guess what he was thinking about.

I released the breath I’d been holding, unsure how to respond. We’d come so close to sealing the deal and now it was the constant elephant in the room. Dorian wanted to discuss it while I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to flirt and train with Dorian, not categorize our relationship. Those kinds of conversations always led to rules, intense emotions and heartbreak. Since my heart was already broken, I was a bit protective of it. Not that Dorian was looking to sweep me off my feet. He’d told me multiple times that he didn’t do the whole relationship thing. No, his motto was more of the ‘wham-bam, thank you ma’am’ variety than the hopeless romantic so many women are looking for. I smiled through my nerves, imagining Dorian devoted to one woman and mushy. It just didn’t fit the man.

“Can you please let me go?” I couldn’t have this conversation while in such an awkward position. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Dorian said with a smile in his voice. His arms fell away from my waist and I crawled backwards off him. Sitting crossed-legged, I picked a piece of grass and studied it. Dorian didn’t push; he lay beside me waiting and staring up at the night sky. A million excuses ran through my mind, none of them helpful. Like earlier tonight, this was yet another conversation that needed to be visited. I just hope it went as well as the one with Aiden.

“Massachusetts was…” I searched for the right word, something efficient enough to get my point across, but not too harsh. Dorian didn’t seem like the type to have his pride tested. And in truth I did like him, maybe a little more than I should. His kiss was imprinted in my mind. No matter how many times I told myself to forget about him, at least until my life was sorted out, my brain wouldn’t let go.

“Was?” Dorian drawled the question out. 

I looked up through the curtain of my black hair that’d fallen over my right eye. Dorian had his arms bent behind his head, his body stretched out along the ground. Though it was the middle of January the cold didn’t seem to affect him. He drove his motorcycle twelve months a year. I, on the other hand, was starting to shiver. We hadn’t gotten a lot of snow, but the temperature of the icy cold ground was soaking through my jeans and straight into my bones.

“It was great, considering,” I said.

“Considering?”

I so did not want to have this conversation. Discussing feelings and heartache to a man who didn’t feel those things was nearly impossible.

“I’d just broken up with Aiden. I know you’re an emotionless tough guy, but I’m not. Ending things with Aiden crushed me.” Dorian grumbled and I frowned. 

“Yet you kissed me, a lot.”

“I know,” I whispered. I knew his next question would be why. Why had I kissed him if I was pining for Aiden? To that I did not have a response, at least not one that would please him. I had two reasons: I was attracted to Dorian, plain and simple. And I thought by giving in to him for one night, it would erase Aiden from my mind. I couldn’t tell him that though. It was too cruel.

“You’re wrong you know,” Dorian said after a while. I looked over at him, studied the way his hair swayed as the winter breeze stirred it. His eyes were closed as if he were completely content to stay in the middle of the field all night. As for me, I was freezing my ass off. When I didn’t respond he peeked through one eye to look at me. Catching my stare, Dorian propped himself up on his elbows. We were locked in each other’s gazes. The gloominess of his eyes was difficult to see in the darkness, but I could tell the clouds were light, calm even.

“What am I wrong about?” I spoke soft, undecided to whether I wanted to hear his answer. Something told me that when it came to Dorian, I was wrong about a lot of things.

“I’m not emotionless,” he replied just as soft. “I care about you. I didn’t know why I placed myself in your path, not at first.” He took a deep breath and then settled back down on the ground. “I told myself it was because of what you are, and it was my job to direct you to do my bidding.”

I snorted and shook my head. The moonlight highlighted the slight upturn of Dorian’s lips. He was such a cocky bastard sometimes. Another tidbit I’d learned while in Moon was that Spirit Walkers used   to be Death’s bounty hunters. They’d track down spirits and escort them to the realm of the dead. Since my kind was quickly becoming extinct, Dorian was forced to work in the field too.

“But,” Dorian continued, interrupting my thoughts. “My interest in you has nothing to do with what you can do for me, at least not job wise.”

I yanked a handful of grass up and threw it at him. He chuckled, brushing the blades off his face.

“I’m trying to have an emotional moment here. Stop ruining it. It may be the last one you ever witness.” When I didn’t respond he continued. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve affected me in a way I never expected. For such a stubborn, smart mouthed woman you sure do know how to charm men.”

Okay so he had some work to do where sweet-talking was concerned, but his compliment/insult still had the same affect. Emotions I tried to ignore bloomed within me, straining for attention. I tamped them back down but couldn’t contain the smile that slipped onto my lips.