Free Witch Blood by Anya Bast Page B

me, like you hold your magick in the center of your chest. Except we have to cook up the spells we’ll need beforehand, draw the energy off them, and manually store it on our bodies in places that have been charmed to hold reserves…like my hair.”
    She nodded. “Yes, with one of the complicated earth spells that I’ll never comprehend. Gotcha.” She smiled and reached out to finger a tendril of his hair. “So your strength resides here…like Samson? If I cut it, are you less powerful?”
    â€œThat’s not something earth witches usually reveal.”
    â€œThat’s…wild. And the whole thing makes an odd sort of sense.” She dropped the hank of his hair. “You don’t seem like the vain sort of man who would grow his hair this long for looks or style. It figures you’d have a purpose, a strategy. So, how else do you hold your magick?”
    â€œI have a tattoo on my back. The ink is charmed to hold power for me.”
    â€œA tattoo?” A slow smile spread across her mouth. “Show me.”
    â€œYou want me to take my shirt off.” It was a statement more than a question.
    She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Why not? Are you scared?”
    He raised his eyebrows and pulled his suit jacket off.
    She laughed and clapped. “Oh, yeah! Take it off, baby!”
    Thomas grinned at her and laid his jacket on the table. The woman had that effect on him. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid that off, too.
    â€œMy, my, my, Mr. Monahan! What big biceps you have.”
    â€œAre you flirting with me?”
    â€œMaybe. Why do you sound so surprised?”
    Because women didn’t flirt with him. Not ever. Well, occasionally a non-magickal woman might flirt with him in a store or a bar, but never a witch. Never anyone who knew who he was. Women didn’t play with the heart and soul of the Coven.
    Isabelle was apparently fearless.
    He didn’t answer her; he only turned around to show her his tattoo.
    He heard her quick intake of air. “Oh, my Lady, it’s gorgeous. Who did it?” Her fingers reached out and brushed his skin, making him shiver a little under her touch.
    â€œAn earth witch named Theo. His full name is Theodosius. He inks a lot of us because he’s got the power and the artistic skill. You’ll meet him soon, I’m sure. He’s one of the Coven’s best hunters.”
    Â 
    I SABELLE TRACED THE LINES OF HIS TATTOO WITH HER fingertip. An angel marked his entire back, her wings arching up and covering his broad shoulders and trailing down his arms. She pushed his hair to the side to see the whole thing and dragged her fingertips over the exquisite artistry of the image. It was done in simple black, but with a high amount of detail.
    Beneath the surface of his skin, along the marks the ink made, she could feel the pulse of the extra power he stored. Earth witches were certainly a different breed.
    She let her gaze drop to his ass and bit her lower lip. The man was fine everywhere, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Could anyone blame her if she fantasized about licking everything in between?
    He made her feel oddly safe, too, and she liked that. Isabelle could take care of herself. It was a specialty of hers, surviving. But once in a while it was nice to be in the presence of a man strong enough to take care of her for a change. Thomas was that man. When he entered a room, he commanded it. His leadership was something inborn, innate. It was magnetic, and all those around him reacted by falling in line.
    Yes, she was powerfully attracted to Mr. Thomas Monahan. Most women considered him off-limits. Isabelle considered him fair game.
    Isabelle lifted her hand from his tattoo, dragged it over his shoulder and down his bicep, losing herself for a moment in the bounty of male beauty spread before her.
    He turned and she allowed her hand to trail on his warm skin as he did so. When he faced her,