Witch Fire by Anya Bast Page B

took another bite of eggs and nearly had to spit them out they were so hot. Mira set her fork down and eyed him warily.
    â€œHow much proof do you need, Mira?” Jack reached out and gathered her pentagram in his hand. He rubbed his knuckles against her collarbone until she shivered and her nipples hardened.
    â€œHow can you blame me for doubting such a crazy story?”
    He pulled her gently forward until her nose was a few inches from his. His breath stirred the fine hairs framing her face. Those sensual lips were only a short space from her mouth. Mira’s heart hammered in her chest. “This pentagram, I don’t need to explain the symbol to you,” he purred in his chocolate-smooth voice.
    She licked her lips and blinked nervously a couple of times. “It depends on your belief system. To me it symbolizes four points for the elements—earth, air, water, and fire. The top point is for Spirit. I’m aware how closely it aligns to your system of…m-magick.” She had to fight to get the last word out.
    He stared into her eyes for a breathless moment. For half a second she thought he might kiss her, and her eyes went a bit wider. Her feelings regarding that possibility were alarmingly befuddled.
    Instead, he released her necklace and leaned back in his chair. “Annie tells me you never go a day without wearing it.”
    She eased away from him, strangely reluctant to do so, and fingered the pendant. The metal was still warm from his palm. Dropping it, she sighed. “Annie is Wiccan. She raised me that way.”
    â€œYou could have rebelled against her religion. Kids rebel against their guardians for lots of different reasons. You could have chosen the faith of your parents. They were Catholic, right? Annie tells me you took to Wicca right off, held onto it tight all through your life.”
    Mira began eating her eggs again. They were good, sprinkled with basil and parsley and cooked to perfection. “So what does that prove?” she asked between mouthfuls.
    â€œWearing that symbol around your throat every day of your life proves that you can take the woman out of witchcraft, but you can’t take the witch out of the woman.”
    Mira ignored him and kept eating her meal. She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject. “So,” she said, motioning at the room with her butter knife, “kidnapping people must be lucrative.”
    He paused with a bite of egg halfway to his lips. “I don’t kidnap people for a living.” He sounded a little amused, but mostly annoyed.
    â€œReally? What is it you do then?”
    â€œI work for Thomas Monahan, head of the Coven. I manage his security.” He set his fork down and wiped his luscious mouth with a napkin.
    â€œYou make yourself sound like a thug for hire.”
    He shrugged. “Sometimes I am, but most of the time more skill is involved. If you compare Monahan to the president of the United States, I would be the equivalent of the head of Secret Service or maybe the NSA.”
    â€œHow did you get that job?”
    â€œLong story.” He took a drink of coffee.
    That meant he didn’t want to discuss it. Interesting.
    â€œSo shouldn’t you be off protecting Monahan, then?” she asked before she took another bite.
    He snorted. “Monahan doesn’t need protection. He does that fine on his own. He told me to guard you.”
    â€œBecause I’m an endangered species? Seems strange that such a big shot like you is spending his time protecting someone like me.”
    â€œYou sell yourself short. Your kind is rare. But aside from that, don’t be too certain that’s the only reason Thomas Monahan wants you safe.”
    She set her fork down and regarded him in silence for a moment. “What do you mean?”
    Jack shrugged. “That’s for him to explain, not me.”
    Her voice was poisonously sweet when she answered. “I