Page 2 of First Ritual

Gone. My last excuse not to walk out those doors.

Grabbing my duffel, I tossed cash—and some to spare—on the counter, then slipped off my stool.

Keg-shadow man leaned forward, drawing my focus again as he revealed an entire muscular arm. I could assume his other arm matched. The chances of his chest looking the same just shot through the roof. Call it vaginal instinct—call it whatever you like—I had an inkling this guy possessed the whole muscular set. The whole set.

I caught a flash of dark-brown hair before he settled into his mysterious keg shadows again. More intriguing than his physique was that contradiction. A person trying to be mysterious would have sat in the myriad of other more mysterious places available in the bar. Someone who sat in keg shadows must truly want to be unseen, and yet he’d sat at the counter on display.

I scratched my nose. Dammit. I did like a good contradiction. The temptation to send out magical feelers to the guy was real, but I couldn’t risk alerting anyone to my presence. I could procrastinate a little longer, however, and still make my date with death.

Hitching my bag higher, I trailed around the bar to enter the ominous keg shadows.

Uh-huh. Yep. Nice.

His face totally matched his bod. His thighs matched his forearms and arms. The guy was just matching, matching, matching all over the place. Stunning, really. The flash of dark-brown hair color I’d glimpsed across the bar wasn’t accurate. His hair was a warmer hue of brown. Sunlight would reveal a different hue altogether if I had to guess. Those dark eyes, though—made darker by the towering keg shadows—could make a gal forget which way was up. I’d certainly forgotten all about the barkeep guy. Amazing physique and face aside, that wasn’t a feeling I relished. I enjoyed the overall broodiness he exuded, however. He looked like a deep thinker, and a confident one.

My searching gaze fell to his fingers where they wrapped around a glass. Long and graceful—like a musician’s. Whoa. Now they were attractive. Which was saying something considering the guy was super attractive already. If I didn’t have to enter the coven tonight, there may have been a sudden change in plans. Not that long had passed since my last bed partner, but when opportunity came knocking and all…

The man, mid-to-late twenties, hadn’t uttered a sound, which also deeply intrigued me. He watched me with interest and didn’t return my head-to-toe scan. Damn if I didn’t kind of like that too. Patience boded well in a lover.

“I’m about to do something reckless.” I broke the silence, dragging my gaze to his exquisite face and those dark, drowning eyes. “I’d like to kiss you first.”

A little kiss wouldn’t delay me too much. I had until the full moon.

His eyebrows shot up and ruined his broody image. Baffled human. What a shame.

The guy got his eyebrows under control, and intrigue gleamed in his eyes after.

“Just a kiss?” He had a quiet voice with deep undertones. He raked his gaze over my golden skin for the first time, and his focus lingered on my lips, which I knew were soft and full. Usually they distracted my bed partners enough that they could forget my eyes were odd and piercing—with one iris the palest of blues and the other the color of rust. Though, I had to say this guy didn’t seem unsettled by my eyes whatsoever.

I shrugged a shoulder. “All I’ve got time for, handsome.”

“Pity,” he said after a beat. He leaned on the bar and set the heel of one boot on the foot bar. “Go for it, gorgeous.”

Don’t mind if I do.

Closing the space, I rested a hand against his jaw, stroking his chin with my thumb. I peered into his dark eyes, brushing aside the unsettled feeling they inspired. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This might be the worst kiss you’ve ever had.”

My lips twitched.

I tilted my head, whispering my fingertips over his shoulders and chest. Yep, yum. Just how I liked muscles on a man.

Stepping between the V of his thighs, I set my lips against his.

Only the first touch was needed to confirm that in no way did this mouth belong to a terrible kisser. I could die tonight. If I didn’t die, I could be trapped. Hunted. Tricked. Slaughtered on display.

I was going all in.

Bunching the neck of his black T-shirt, I pressed my lips hard to his, parting my mouth. He’d stilled when our lips first met, but now straightened in a burst to draw closer to me. One of his strong arms wrapped behind my back, not pulling me nearer but certainly preventing escape. The other wove my hair and gripped hard enough to convey he was humoring my display.

Mmm. I wasn’t one to relinquish that.

We parted for air, and the wild light in his eyes was a twin for mine.

Our mouths clashed once more. Harder.

I ran my tongue along the underside of his top lip. Whatever he’d been drinking had left a cinnamon taste behind and combined with the remnant taste of tequila in amazing ways.

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