Page 15 of Lunar Desires (Celestial Magic #2)

Stefan looked at each of us in turn. “We will help you with your search for Preston, as well as with defeating your uncle, the Kingwoods, and finding answers to this stranger mystery with Riley’s father.” He removed his glasses again. “Fascinating cases.”

Yeah. So fascinating. Maybe he should try being on the frontline, facing them down.

Dad…

My dad…

Stefan put his glasses back on and snapped his fingers. One of the witchcops left the room, returning a minute later with a blue box. She placed it on the table and returned to her post.

Stefan opened the lid, removing two witch bangles—the witchcop variety. “These are for you. A gift to aid your destiny.” He slid the surgical steel objects to me and my brother. “Please remove your current bangles and replace them immediately.”

“How do they do that?” Erin asked.

Witch bangles were permanently affixed to witches by law. Any attempt to remove them came with a prison sentence with hard labor. A ten-year stretch. And we didn’t exactly have a key to unlock them.

Stefan slid a small silver key to me. “There is a slot for the key on the back your bangle.”

I turned my wrist, spotting the slot immediately. I’d never looked before because I’d had no reason to.

“Go on,” the inquisitor pressed. “Take it off. You have permission.”

I slid the key in. It turned on its own, a join forming in the bangle. With a click, it fell loose, hitting the table with a thud.

“Crap. Sorry.”

A strange sensation went through me, a sudden lightness coupled with a sense of loss.

My three spells were gone.

“No need for apologies,” Stefan countered. “Now, for the new one. Your brain will immediately register your new spells.” He waved a hand at me. “Please hurry.”

Okay, bossy boots.

I put the bangle on. It clamped shut, the join vanishing, a blue sheen passing over the surface.

The spells registered as a series of sharp pings in my head

Trip. Deflect. Hide. Those three were the standard shimmer witch bangle spells. But the others weren’t, giving me a power boost.

Taser. Seize. Blur. Freeze. Light.

Diluted versions of the proper spells, but would still pack a punch. Taser was a new invention, not derived from a grimoire.

Like glamouring.

I passed the key to Isaac, watching him replace his bangle.

“There, you are armed and ready,” Stefan said once he’d finished.

My brother gave me a look as if to say, “This prick, eh?”

Stefan stood up with liquid grace. “Please make use of the showering facilities. We took the liberty of providing you with fresh clothing. Agent uniforms, I’m afraid.

But only for tonight.” God, his ominous grin sent chills racing through me.

“You have twenty minutes to get ready. The car will then take you home. See you all on Sunday.”

What day were we on? Monday? Yeah. Plenty of time until we had to see him again.

“Oh, and congratulations on your son joining our ranks, Erin,” Stefan added as he strode toward the door.

“Thank you,” she answered quietly.

I’d forgotten all about Ollie becoming a witchcop. Wait. Wasn’t that tomorrow? February first?

“Is he our liaison?” I asked.

“No,” Stefan answered before leaving the room.

“Shower time,” one of the witchcops ordered. “Now.”

This was really happening. We were really under High Coven conditions. Damn. And call it a hunch, but this wouldn’t last long. I could feel it in my bones. Something would give, our presence undermining High Coven authority, and we’d end up paying the price.

Yeah, we’d see about that…

We followed the witchcop down a corridor to a bathroom of five shower cubicles and two toilets. There were white shelves with three folded witchcop uniforms, the blue berets sitting on top, along with a pile of towels and some toiletries. One cubicle was already occupied, the glass steamed up.

I stripped, hiding my privates under a towel as I did, and took the cubicle closest to the door, Isaac taking the one next to me. He didn’t care about modesty, whipping everything off without a care in the world.

I wasn’t that brave. Well, unless it involved Drake and a bouncy bed.

Where was he? Already in the car waiting for us? In the other cubicle?

Maybe I should call out to him…

“Cheap shower gel,” my brother complained, interrupting my thought process. “Something called Arctic Spice. Seriously? Have you ever heard of a spicy Arctic?”

“Maybe things do get spicy between people on the cold nights,” a voice answered.

I gasped at the same time the water kicked on. I choked on it, getting my splutter on.

Dammit!

“Hi, Drake!” Isaac called.

Recovering my equilibrium, I managed to call out to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. You? Do you have a cough?”

“I’m fine.”

Conscious of the limited time, I lathered up the Arctic Spice—a two-in-one shower gel and shampoo combo—and got down to business.

The hot water was bliss on my skin, the shower gel kind of abrasive, its scent weird. But it made me feel clean, like it stripped away the dirt and stress of the day.

Finishing up, I grabbed my towel hanging outside the cubicle, gave my hair a rough dry, and wrapped it around my waist.

Fresh as a daisy.

Being the first one done, I went to an area with mirrors and sinks, taking a toiletries bag with me. I sprayed on some deodorant, brushed my teeth, and ran some gel through my black hair. The silver streak seemed brighter than before, as if it’d absorbed moonlight.

A shame the rest of me looked tired, my already pale complexion edging closer to ghostly.

I dressed quickly in the white military-style uniform with blue piping, along with some boots, fixed the beret in place, and checked myself out.

My worst nightmare stared back at me, the material of the uniform itchy, my body rejecting this whole thing. This wasn’t me and never would be.

I couldn’t wait to rip these clothes off.

Drake appeared behind me, a towel tied around his waist, carrying his bag of toiletries and his uniform, looking yummy as hell.

“Hello, you,” he said in an underwear-melting purr.

Along with his physical aesthetics, Drake’s voice was perfection—a rich, audible caress for the senses.

We watched each other through the mirror, my heart thrumming, heat prickling my scalp.

God, he looked spectacular, everything about him a work of art from those damp tresses to his sensually dark eyes. My cock stirred, my breath catching in my throat. I grabbed the edge of the sink, taken over by pulsating lust, my inhibitions fracturing.

Take me right here…

Against the wall, yeah. My trousers around my ankles, a cheek pressed against the tiles, him inside me, fucking this tension into the ether.

God, I ached desperately for him.

No, no, no. And what the hell was I doing thinking about sex in this damn place? I couldn’t lose my sense of reason whenever Drake looked at me as if he wanted to eat me like cake.

If only!

I dipped my head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He approached me. I closed my eyes, listening to his bare feet move across the floor. My skin tingled in anticipation of his arms around me, of his lips on the back of my neck.

It didn’t happen. Instead, he sprayed deodorant and dressed at a different sink.

Oh. Okay. Definitely for the best.

Phew!

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Or I will be once we leave this building.”

“Who knew there was such a thing as too much white?”

I opened my eyes, watching him pull the white vest over his head and laughed at his little dig at the eye-burning décor. It helped deflate my lust, though I kept hold of the sink.

My brother strode into the mirror area as if he were on the catwalk in Paris, his face scrunched up in disgust at his reflection.

“Look, I’m trying not to play the spoiled diva here,” he said rather theatrically. “But what the fuck is this shit?” He held up the deodorant can. “Sandalwood Touch? Yuck.”

Drake chuckled, fixing his beret in place.

How sexy he looked in a uniform, but did we really need the berets?

Overkill much?

I frowned at Isaac through the mirror, needing a distraction from Drake. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes, spraying his armpits. “I can’t help it. I’m a brat.”

“Hmmm. How to respond?”

He laughed. “At least I’m self-aware.”

“Yeah.” I giggled, finally relinquishing my grip on the sink. “Agree on the crappy smell.”

“As you should.” He dressed, obviously outdoing all of us despite wearing the same clothing.

Ugh. It wasn’t fair. Even the beret sat at the perfect, slightly jaunty angle.

Isaac checked himself in the mirror with a grimace. “I miss my Dior .”

Drake moved closer to me. “You look amazing.” He offered me his superstar smile, threatening to unravel me.

“I do?” I squeaked, looking down at myself. “I don’t think so.”

“Hugging you in all the right places.”

God, did he have to flirt?

You love it!

Drake took another step closer, his expression shifting to serious. “I’m sorry, Riley. About everything. This is all my fault.”

He poked two bears—one of anger, one of a cuddly disposition.

“I’ll give you some space,” Isaac said, checking his watch. “You only have a few minutes, though.”

I gave Drake a hug because, well, why not? I just needed to hold him. He hugged me back, taking a deep breath.

The bears fell silent, taking a pause while we sidestepped into our own little world.

“We’ll talk properly later,” I said, my face in the crook of his neck.

He rubbed my back. “Alright.”

I lifted my head and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get this night over with.”

He kissed me back on the lips. “I’m right behind you.”

“Aw! You two are adorable,” Isaac crooned from the doorway. “But we’ve got to go.”

I licked my lips, taking a step back from Drake, still tasting him on my tongue.

Don’t you dare start! I warned my cock.

A witchcop arrived. “Time’s up.”

Isaac snarled at him. “We know!”

The man glowered and stormed off.

Home time.

Yay!

Thank Hecate.