Man about the House (Wicked Wraiths) Read Free Page B

swayed on his feet. Blinking as his eyes refocused, he glared at Corvin. “Hey, guests aren’t allowed back here.”
    Corvin waved dismissively. “I was on my way out. Just helping the little lady with the tray.” With a mental shove, Corvin locked this new “truth” into place, then walked out.
    Frustration and need clawed at him as he walked down the corridor to the main part of the club. He’d nearly cracked her, nearly had her where he wanted her.
    “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Forgetting he was wearing heels, Corvin aimed a kick at a taped patch on the carpet. The heel caught in the frayed section and he stumbled. Swearing enough to make a marine blush, he managed to catch himself on a coat rack before he landed on his ass. “Fucking hell.”
    Muttering he untangled himself from what must be the staff’s coats. One, a long mac, clung to him like a jealous ex-lover, causing a fresh bout of swearing as he tried to escape its clutches.
    Good job Hex and Storm weren’t here to see him. They’d die laughing. “Gah, get off me!”
    He managed to struggle free by flattening himself against the wall and scooting sideways. Not an easy manoeuvre in heels and a tight skirt. He was almost free when he knocked into a set of lockers. A door popped open, and a purse tumbled out. Typical for Corvin’s luck tonight, the top was unzipped. In slow motion, the contents spilled out onto the floor.
    “Oh, just fucking great.” Dropping to his knees, he started to gather up the spilled belongings. With quick movements, he stuffed them back into the purse. One, a small scroll wrapped with a red ribbon, rolled away, forcing him to make a grab for it. As soon he touched it, a bolt of energy snapped at his fingers. “Ouch! What the fuck?”
    He dropped it, shaking his hand to get rid of the sting. “Okay, what the hell are you?”
    Carefully he picked the thing up between his thumb and forefinger to examine it closely. Magic buzzed and tried to crawl up his arm. He blocked it easily. It was a lower intensity than the first jolt. It was as though it had built up a charge, and when he’d touched it, it had arced through him like a jolt of electricity.
    Corvin’s brow creased in confusion as he unfurled the scroll and read the inscription on it.

    Thnall terantis Terathel,
    Heran juris gerath,
    Ceris armouret anak,
    Heran Koras go-gothian totalis.
    Aranath gosita terabi.

    “What the hell? A wraith summoning scroll?”
    This was higher level Fae magic. What was it doing just stuffed in a purse in a club locker that hadn’t even been locked? These things were dangerous in the wrong hands. Holding it in one hand, he looked through the belongings for some ID. He had to find out who this belonged to, then bawl their ass out for leaving it unsecured like this. Gods knew what a dark sorcerer could do with an active summoning scroll.
    The wallet wasn’t easy to find in the general chaos that inhabited the bottom of any woman’s purse. It was like they were trying to form their own world complete with eco system in there.
    “There you are.” His fingers closed over the small leather rectangle and he flipped it open in a quick move. Okay, who was she?
    His eyes widened at the picture on the driving license. Janelle Allen. A quick glance confirmed the name and address. Corvin looked from the purse to the summoning scroll in confusion. This was Janelle’s? He unrolled the last bit of the scroll and a note fell out. Corvin fell on it like a vulture on prey. Unlike the scroll, it was just a normal note, written in pen on a page torn out of a pad.
    Just in case you needed a little help — cleaning or otherwise. Trust me; you won’t be disappointed with either. Tori
    Who the hell was Tori? The spelling and handwriting indicated a woman. And what did she mean about “otherwise?” Jealousy slammed into Corvin’s gut as he scowled and read the summoning spell again.
    Ah, there it was. The spell had been adapted; it was part domestic spell