The Wicked by Thea Harrison Page A

so this doesn’t apply do you, but Bailey, Tony, Derrick and I will take watches at night. Tomorrow we’ll tour the island, or at least the part of the island not covered by the redwoods. Tony and Derrick, you’ll take the watch tonight.”
    His people knew the drill, and they nodded, unsurprised.
    Steve looked up as he stacked food on his plate and said, “Are you sure that’s necessary? There’s nobody here but us.”
    “That’s not quite correct,” said Sebastian. “The only thing we know for sure is that the crossover passageway has not been guarded 24/7 since Carling left. We’ll do as Carling ordered and nobody will go into the forest. But we will maintain watches, just to be safe.”
    Bailey reappeared with several dusty bottles in her arms, eyes wide with glee. As everyone in the kitchen turned to look at her, she said, “Hey, the lady wants her library, not her wine. Oh my God, look at this vintage.”
    Sebastian chose not to sit at the table with the others. He leaned back against the counter, taking a break for the first time since diving off the yacht earlier that day. His headache had faded several hours ago. Now he was clearheaded and edgy. Restlessness ran underneath his skin.
    Earlier he had taken a lap around the house to study the immediate terrain. The flat ocean horizon gave the illusion that this small nugget of Other land was vast and limitless, when in reality, according to Carling, when one sailed away from the island, one would somehow end up coming right back. The vegetable garden at the back of the house had long since turned into an overgrown jungle of weeds. He had walked the path to the cottage where the library was housed, then back again, while subtle whispers of magic skittered along the edges of his mind like furtive mice.
    He could still feel those magic whispers, a sensation like the brush of cobwebs against his skin, although the greater distance from the cottage weakened them. Something in the library was restless too.
    As Bailey wiped off the wine bottles and uncorked them, he studied each individual. The other three members of his security team, Bailey, Derrick and Tony, were having a good time. They joked with each other and made friendly overtures to Dendera, Steve and Olivia. Olivia laughed at his crew’s jokes and responded in kind. Dendera was the most reserved of the group, but she smiled at the others and at him.
    Steve was different. He was a predator Wyr and a symbologist, a combination of characteristics that interested Sebastian. He smelled like some kind of canine, perhaps a coyote. Sebastian had already noted that Steve went out of his way to avoid him.
    He had also noticed Steve’s friendly attitude toward Olivia on the flight, but since then the other Wyr’s attitude had done a one-eighty. After Sebastian had marked his claim on Olivia back on the deck of the yacht, Steve refused to look at Olivia, and he went out of his way to avoid her too.
    Was the other man jealous? Sebastian smiled coldly. Steve didn’t have a chance with Olivia, so he could just dream on.
    Sebastian’s restlessness ratcheted higher. He should eat, but he didn’t want to.
    What he wanted had not left his mind all day.
    He watched Olivia steadily, his patience eroding fast. She wore a soft blue cable knit sweater and jeans, and it was the sexiest outfit he had ever seen. Her breasts and hips rounded gently from a narrow waist, and her lovely, intelligent gray eyes lit with laughter as she responded to something that Bailey said.
    Like Steve, she didn’t look at Sebastian either. Unlike Steve, he knew very well why she avoided his gaze. Sensual awareness shimmered in the air between them. Hell, it all but threw confetti and lit fireworks.
    Flashes of what he had done to her, of what she had said to him, played in his mind.
    Would you mind if I bit you?
    The question had floored him. It was not just that she had been able to ask it—it was that she asked so politely. The very act had