Sinful Magic by Jennifer Lyon Page A

Sahara, swung a left on the street named for the old hotel.
    “Anything more?” Key asked Sutton.
    “They passed one camera but I don’t see them at the next.” They could hear his fingers flying over the keys. “The SUV didn’t turn at the next intersection. They must have stopped between these two cameras.” He put the coordinates on the GPS screen.
    “What’s there?” Phoenix asked.
    More clicking, then he said, “Some strip joints, a nightclub, and the old Bedazzled hotel and casino. It’s scheduled for destruction in just over a week.”
    “There’s the hotel.” Key pointed to the blocky, sprawling five-story building that had several steeples. In the heyday of the hotel, each steeple was covered in colored lights representing sapphires, diamonds, and rubies. It was surrounded by a seven-foot fence, and posted with plenty of No Trespassing signs. “Let me out. You go check out the other places while Sutton watches the cameras.”
    Phoenix swerved to a stop. Ailish let Key out and got back in, and the car peeled off. Key shielded his presence so no security cameras could see him, and then he rushed up to the fence, grabbed the top, and leaped over it. He landed on the other side and took stock.
    The building’s huge marquee was covered in graffiti, and the large sign, Bedazzled, that once blinked different jewel colors, had some letters missing; others were cracked or broken. There were boards over the front doors and windows, and the asphalt had deep fissures.
    Moving silently toward the building, he heard the traffic whizzing by behind him. Was Roxy here? Was Liam?
    Then he heard noise coming from the underground garage—a pain-filled cry that stabbed at his memories and tore at his old guilt. He shoved it aside and homed in on his target.
    Roxy fought to breathe, terror pounding in her veins as the monster looming over her cut off her clothes, leaving her in her bra and panties.
    Then he cut her.
    Pain, it was a blazing agony that rang in her ears. “No, stop!” Why? Oh Ancestors, why? The gloom was cut by the headlights from the SUV, revealing her tormentor. Stripped to the waist, he knelt over her, smelling like oily copper. He was huge, ripped with muscles, and hairless.
    He looked wrong, too-delicate eyebrows, no beard shadow.
    There was no help; her bodyguard lay dead in a pool of blood. Her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to something in the cement. She was helpless to escape.
    “Stop? But I’ve only started.” He wiped the blood coating the knife on his chest.
    Her blood. Bile burned her throat and she twisted, fighting the restraints.
    He laughed. “I’ve been looking for you. You have the mark that can wake the dragon.”
    She stared up at him. “What dragon?” He was crazy. And she was going to die. Sweaty fear twisted through her, making her hot and sick as tears ran down her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
    His eyes gleamed. “It’s taken me a decade to learn all about fertility witches and the dragon.” He leaned closer. “To learn about you. You have the fertility mark.” He grabbed her thigh, wrenching her legs apart. “Color is starting to appear. Whore magic. You’re all born to be whores. Answer my two questions, and the pain will stop. Where is the Tear, and did you wake the dragon?”
    Panic clawed at her stomach. “I don’t know what—”
    He moved in a blur, then agony slashed across her stomach. Roxy screamed, jerking against the chains, her entire world narrowing to the pain. She sucked in a breath and begged, “Don’t! Please!”
    “One more time
    where is the Tear, and did you wake the dragon?” he asked in a soft voice, and then he shoved his hand against the cut on her stomach.
    It felt like he was reaching into her and tearing out her organs. She heard hoarse cries and realized they were coming from her. He took his hand away, and she looked at him, desperate for some sign of humanity in him.
    He rubbed her blood over his chest. “Where is the Tear? Did you wake the