Sinful Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

picture I drew? It means he’s after you. That’s what he’ll do to you if he gets you.” All these years he’d been having his episodes of drawing Liam—he hadn’t been crazy or sinking into bloodlust. Liam was alive and Key’s art knew it. This was real.
    “But I don’t know any Liam!” She winced, her shoulders rising in the white terry cloth robe.
    Key fought sympathy. He knew witches felt pain intensely, but her misery from the aftereffects of the drug was nothing compared to what Liam would do to her. He had to find the connection between them both, to keep her safe, and to track Liam. “He apparently knows you.” Key watched her, wondering if she would lie.
    She pulled herself together. “My magic is latent, so how would he even
    ” she trailed off, her eyes dropping. “Mack. He was up to something.”
    “The guy in the bar?” When he’d gone through the optic nerve to shift his memory, he’d found the man’s short-term memories were mushy from another witch hunter’s previous shifting. It had to be from Liam. “When I caught you in the atrium, he insisted you were his wife and tried to take you from me.”
    She grimaced. “Mack Daemon, he’s an old boyfriend. We broke up. I never told him I’m a witch, but he knew and
    damn, I can’t think with this headache.”
    He felt a stab of regret and lifted his hand to her shoulder. “Let’s go sit down.” She was looking worse by the second.
    “No, I want to leave—” The color drained from her face. Then Roxy ducked under his arm, ran into the bathroom, and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.
    Key winced at her violent vomiting. Shit. He went in and got her a wet washcloth. Lifting her hair, he held it against the back of her neck.
    “Go a—” She couldn’t finish as the next wave of sickness hit her.
    Key waited, memories of another time, another woman throwing up, and him feeling helpless. He’d eventually learned the few things he could do. Cool cloth on the back of her neck, ginger ale or tea, and patience.
    The spasms finally stopped. Key flushed the toilet, went to the sink, and wet another cloth. He handed that to her.
    Roxy shifted on the floor, leaning back against the side of the tub by her damp clothes. She leaned her head back, appearing so drained she could barely move.
    He couldn’t stand her thick misery. Key hunkered down, slipped his arms beneath her, and lifted her up.
    “Kieran
    ”
    He looked down at her too-pale face, her freckles vivid. “You’re too sick to go anywhere.” He walked out of the bathroom into the fresher air of the bedroom and headed to the bed. He held her in one arm and stripped the covers back, layered some pillows, then put her down.
    “Resting for a minute, then leaving.”
    He didn’t argue with her but went to the minibar and got out a small bottle of ginger ale, opened it, and held it out. “You won’t get far in your condition.”
    “Far enough to kill Mack,” she muttered, took the bottle and sipped.
    He sat down on the side of the bed, facing her with his hip brushing hers. That small contact reminded him of when she’d touched his palm. Lust had exploded in him. He had a supersized sex drive, but this woman did things to him unlike anyone else. She squinted against the light, dragging him back to the present. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. That left only the light from the bathroom around the corner. “What can I get you to help? Tea? Or I have a friend who is a witch, she won’t be here for a couple hours, but she—”
    “No witches.”
    Odd. “She could use magic to clear the toxins from whatever shit Mack put in your wine.”
    “No.” She scooted away from him, putting a few inches between their hips. Taking another sip, she added, “I can’t stay here with you.” She turned her head toward the wall and added, “Or with that.”
    The picture. Key was furious with himself for not painting over it. These episodes didn’t happen very often, but when they did, he either found paint or called the witches and they