Grey Magic and Binding Deceptions (Grey Witch Book 3) Read online

  Grey Magic and Binding Deceptions

  Cece Rose

  Contents

  Author Note

  1. Attraction & Lies

  2. An Intense Link

  3. A Hellish Problem

  4. Trust and Regret

  5. Best Friends Are Forever

  6. An Evening of Hell

  7. All Out of Options

  8. Shoulder To Lean On

  9. Truth & Love

  10. Witch Dreams

  11. Coven of Bitches

  12. A Rude Interruption

  13. Rescued

  14. Deadly Ultimatum

  15. Death by Hunger

  16. Friends & Demons

  17. The Ancient Temple

  18. Wrong Side Of A Summoning Circle

  19. Love & Promises

  20. Black Lace

  21. A Dark Wedding

  22. Three’s Not Always A Crowd

  23. Killing Gods & Kings

  Grey Gods and Ancient Blood

  About the Author

  Also by Cece Rose

  Also by Cece Rose… Writing as Cecelia Rose

  Lux

  Chapter One

  Grey Magic and Binding Deceptions Copyright © 2020 Cece Rose.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Cover Design by Daqri Bernado – Covers by Combs

  Author Note

  Just a small note from the author to say that it’s highly recommended for people to read the series prequel novella, Grey Witch and Halloween Magic, before reading this instalment in the series.

  For Chaya and Heather, who named this book.

  And for everyone that’s been patient waiting for it. Thank you.

  One

  Attraction & Lies

  A hand grazes a light path up my thigh, as lips brush against my neck in a tantalising whisper, just a tease of a kiss. I push into the touches, craving more, and they give it. Hands move across my body, and I twist and turn beneath their touch like I’m under a spell.

  “You’re beautiful like this, sweetheart,” a voice purrs into my ear.

  Rhydian?

  The fleeting second of clarity amongst the pleasure and delirium quickly passes, as rough hands take my waist in a possessive grip and I’m pulled against a hard body. No warmth comes from him, just a chill, and I shiver as his touch rushes over every inch of my body. A cry of both pain and pleasure catches in my throat at the feel of teeth sinking into my neck. The body pressed against me warms as the fangs draw away.

  A different kind of touch brushes my skin. Light, curious—almost reverent. I have to know who could touch me in such a way, a way that seems to bring my magic to my skin and make it pulse with power.

  I force my eyes open, and a chill rushes over my entire body. What’s wrong with me? Even the ceiling above me seems to glare down at me patronisingly. I sigh, suddenly wide awake, and turn my head to glance at the small table beside the bed.

  Has it really only been a week? The date displays on Darren’s alarm clock along with the time, reminding me of my current predicament. I freeze as Darren shifts in the bed next to me, staring at him intently to see if he wakes. Once I’m sure he’s still in dreamland, I quietly slip out of his bed and head into the kitchen in search of coffee. Sleep is no longer a restful experience for me, and a dose or two of caffeine will help me avoid it again for a little longer.

  For the last week, I’ve had similar dreams, and the guilt’s starting to eat at me. How can I dream about other men while sleeping in the bed next to Darren? I push my lips together into a thin line, trying to think as I grab a mug from the cupboard above the kettle, and start getting my coffee ready. It must be the ritual that damn demon tricked me into doing that’s caused this. I wasn’t having ridiculous sex-fantasy dreams about Rhydian and Kier before.

  I’ve been avoiding all contact with both men since I discovered that the easiest way to get my magic back is to sleep with them. So far I’ve managed to brush them off, saying I’ve been busy, however, I spent most of that time snuggled up with Darren. We’ve not even left his place, just sitting around eating, watching Netflix, looking at terrible job ads, and having a lot of finally-back-together-sex. Despite spending almost every minute of the last week in Darren’s company, I’ve neglected to find the time to tell him about the reappearance of my magic.

  “I just need more time to think about it,” I mutter, not even managing to convince myself, as I pour the now steaming hot water into the mug, over the terrible instant coffee Darren drinks.

  “More time to think about what?” a voice asks. I jump at the sound, almost knocking the mug over. I turn around and stare in shock at the speaker, because it’s not Darren standing on the other side of his kitchen. Rhydian leans against the wall, a smug smile on his face, as if he has every right to let himself into Darren’s home at six-thirty in the morning.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand, suddenly very aware of the fact I sleep only in a baggy shirt when I stay here. I glance down. A shirt that’s thankfully long enough to cover everything important.

  “I’m here because you owe me one for helping you, and I’m here to collect,” Rhydian answers in his usual, frustratingly cryptic way.

  “No better than a demon, are you?” I close my eyes for a moment, wishing he’d just go away, but he doesn’t. Instead he comes closer, sitting on the countertop beside my freshly made cup of coffee. I’m annoyed when I notice he smells like decent coffee, and some other fresh scent I can’t quite decipher. Whatever it is, it smells amazing. I force myself to resist the urge to sniff at the air.

  “I never claimed to be a saint, but a demon? That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” he drawls, giving me grin before continuing, “I need your help with something, and it has to be you that helps me, or I’d have left you alone in your little love-nest, I promise.”

  “Sure. You’re just so happy for the two of us, right? That’s why you’re creeping in here before Darren wakes up to talk to me alone?” I retort, barely stopping myself from rolling my eyes at him.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” he all but sighs, sliding off the counter. As he moves, it brings him closer to me; we’re almost touching as he stands beside me. Or did I move closer to him? I blink. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, resting a hand on my shoulder. As he touches me, a strange feeling flashes through my entire body. The magic I regained from Darren starts to swirl and reach out, as if trying to connect with the magic residing in Rhydian. He stumbles back from me, clearly feeling it too.

  “Don’t say anything,” I whisper, the words tumbling from my mouth almost of their own accord. Traitorous little shits.

  “About what?” he asks, giving me a blank expression.

  I lick my lips, nervous, but urgency pushes me to continue. ”Not to me, to Darren. Or Kier either, for that matter.” I spare a glance towards the direction of Darren’s bedroom, feeling my heart speed up a little from the nervous feeling that worms its way through me when I notice the door isn’
t completely shut. Please let him be sound asleep in there.

  “Why not? Isn’t this a good thing? How did you get some of it back, anyway? Can we do it now?” he asks, scrutinising me amidst his barrage of questions. I shake myself, trying to clear my mind of inappropriate thoughts, but as if spurred by my dreams, all I can see are lurid images of me and Rhydian tangled together in my head.

  I take a few deep breaths, forcing the images from my thoughts. “I have my magic back from Darren, but he doesn’t know yet. And I can’t get my magic back from you guys, not the same way, so just drop it, okay?” I need him to agree. I refuse to allow this to ruin my relationship with Darren after he waited so long for me.

  How can I tell him this and break his heart all over again? I’d rather live without magic for the rest of my life than hurt him again.

  “Fine. Just be ready for me to pick you up at seven. Wear something… sexy, but not slutty. Dressed up, but not to undress? Got it?” he demands, running his eyes over me. His gaze feels a little too intense, as he takes his time, running his eyes up my bare legs to the where the baggy shirt covers me. “I would warn against wearing only that for this occasion, but I must admit, you make even that t-shirt look good. You’re really beautiful like this, Kayla,” he says softly.

  A sense of déjà-vu hits me hard, and I inhale sharply, feeling like I’ve been stabbed as I step back a few paces from him. “I’ll be ready, but you need to go. Now. Before Darren gets up and finds you here.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose,” Rhydian offers in parting, his voice sounding unsettled and unsure—something damn unusual for him.

  Biting my lip, I turn away, not bothering to give him another word as I add some extra sugar into my coffee and top it off with a little more hot water. A few moments later, I dare to look around, and find myself alone once again. I sag with relief as I bring the coffee mug to my lips, but the relief is short-lived as a more burning problem arises.

  What the hell did that ritual do to me?

  Two

  An Intense Link

  I approach the door with churning anxiety and look over my shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of someone watching me as I move closer to the house. Shoving away the ill-feelings, I brush them off as nerves, steadying myself and taking a deep breath before knocking; opting for the satisfying rap of my knuckles against the hard door, over a whiny doorbell chime.

  Scarcely resisting the urge to chew my bottom lip off in restlessness, I pull out my phone and stare at it blankly for a moment. I battle for a feeling of certainty over whether this idea is sane or not inside the relative safety of my own head. The debate about whether this is the right thing to do or not has bugged me the entire way over here.

  I’m planning to use Kier as a guinea pig to compare my magic’s reaction to him, with my magic’s reaction to Rhydian, since getting a piece of it returned from Darren seems to have changed something. To make matters even worse, my excuse for visiting isn’t even a good one. I’ve come under the guise of returning the dress he loaned me. One I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want or need back.

  How exactly am I going to test this weird magical off-ness, anyway?

  The door opens, abruptly ripping me from my internal debate. A shocked, feminine laugh greets me, the sound one of pure incredulity and amusement as it ripples out into the air. My eyes dart up and immediately lock onto the bitch in the doorway, recognising her immediately. Fury twists in my gut, and I drop the bag containing the black dress.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I even blink a few times in the hope she’s just a figment of my imagination, but no such luck. “Why couldn’t she just disappear?” I mutter to myself under my breath as she turns around to shout behind her into the home.

  “Kierrrrr?” she calls, almost purring his name as she drags it out. An unpleasant feeling twists in my stomach as she does, and I try not to think about it for too long.

  “Who is it, Cami?” Kier’s voice calls from within, the magic inside of me churning as I hear his voice.

  “I’m not sure what her name is, but apparently it’s not Gina,” she calls back, a slight upward curl to her lips as she speaks. She looks down, her eyes appraising the dress visible through the top of the plastic bag on the ground. “Is that mine?”

  Goddess, please don’t let this actually be happening…

  Borrowing the dress of someone I assumed had slept with Kier was weird enough, but her? Her refusal to listen to me for even a damn minute got me thrown into The Tomb.

  “‘Not Gina’ doesn’t really narrow it down, Cami,” his voice retorts in an amused tone. The feeling of the magic inside me intensifies, and I wonder if he can sense any of it, or if I’m the only one experiencing this uncomfortable sensation.

  “Is it?” Cami presses again, giving dress another curious look.

  “I’m not really sure, Kier didn’t say who it belonged to.” I shrug, attempting to act nonchalant about it, despite the rising awkwardness of the situation.

  “You can keep it,” she mutters, giving me a look akin to one you’d give that annoying idiot on the tube that decides to blare their terrible music aloud instead of using their earphones like a more civilised person would. “What was your name?” she questions, acting oblivious, the slight smirk curling her lips the only evidence of her real thoughts.

  “Kayla! Kayla fucking Harlow. Exactly like I tried to tell you when you arrested me for somebody else’s crimes!” I snap, the remnants of my awkwardness evaporating with the fresh surge of anger.

  “She says her name is Kayla!” she calls back, completely ignoring everything else I’d said. She leans against the door frame, acting relaxed before adding loudly, “I’m leaving, want me to let her in or tell her to leave?”

  “Kayla?” Kier’s voice questions, just before he appears in the doorway behind Cami. I blink. Somehow, I always manage to forget just how fast he can move when he wants to.

  “I’ll call you later, Kier,” Cami offers in a soft, sweet tone. My eyes roll, and I move to the side to let her pass, but instead of walking past me, she simply blinks from existence. The aftershocks of her magic still linger in the air as I let my other senses seek out what’s around me.

  “She can make herself a portal, of-fucking-course she can,” I mutter, feeling irritated beyond reason. Portals take a hell of a lot of magic. And a witch conjuring one, using themselves instead of a fixed point as the entry location, is ridiculously complex. Even Lizzy hesitates over doing it like that, and Cami just blinked out of existence like she was flicking her hair back over her shoulder.

  “Camille likes to show off,” Kier remarks, giving me a small, but warm smile that doesn’t show his teeth. Barely a quirk of the lips, but I appreciate his effort in trying not to spook me with his fangs again.

  My dream from this morning flashes in my mind. I felt anything but fear at the prospect of his teeth sinking into my flesh then. I can’t help but wonder if it could really feel like that.

  “Kayla?” he prompts, in a more concerned tone, and my attention flicks back to him.

  “Sorry. I just came to return this, but now that I’m here, I kind of realise it was a stupid idea.” I pick up the bag, extending it towards him. He takes it from me, barely glancing at the contents before stepping back and gesturing for me to come in. I step inside and kick off my shoes, leaving them by the door as he shuts it.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” he offers, already moving towards the kitchen.

  “Uh, just some water will be okay,” I answer, following him through the house while trying to maintain some distance.

  “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat. Maybe a cheese toastie?” he suggests, as we step into his modern kitchen. It still looks as unused as the last time I was here.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him, choosing to avoid his obvious baiting with the mention of that particular food. After last time we were here. What happened between us, just meters from where we’re st
anding now. Why does he have to bring those stupid thoughts up?

  He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to me, his fingers lingering over mine as he passes it over. The touch is enough to confirm my theory; I feel my restored magic responding to my magic that’s still within him. Unfortunately, he clearly feels something too from the touch.

  “What was that?” he demands quickly, giving me a confused look.

  “I don’t know,” I answer, not completely lying or telling the truth. I mean, I know it’s something to do with my magic, but exactly what it’s doing or why, I have no clue.

  “It felt like magic… Have your powers begun to return?” he inquires, his voice turning pleased, obviously happy for me. “Could it be a sensation of the magic transferring?”

  “Not exactly,” I begin, taking a drink of the water to help slake the sudden dryness from my mouth. I place the now-open bottle onto the counter. “I have my magic back from Darren, but not from any of the rest of you.”

  “That’s great news, right? Why don’t you seem more excited?” he asks, confusion tinging his question.

  “It’s complicated, and I don’t really want to explain it all right now.” I bite my lip after the words leave my mouth, frustrated at the fact I probably sound like an uncooperative, petulant child.