Ulterior Motives

Conflicting Interest

Hey guys, sorry for the delay in updates. Vacation life and I didn't stop long enough to get online to update. Hope you enjoy it.

Happy Reading.

Love
NJ Kuhr
XOXO

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She wrapped the gauze in the soiled medical supplies and dumped them into the empty bowl from last night. Taking them outside she tipped the contents into the metal trash can and tossed in a lite match. Blood was a powerful ingredient, especially a high ranking Warlocks blood. She wasn't going to leave it lying around. Once it had all burned to ash and the fire extinguished itself she let herself back inside.

The chore had only taken a few minutes but when she looked around Oliver was in the kitchen and instead of the torn up jeans from before he was in black running pants. No shirt. Reagan breath hitched slightly, he would look sexy in just about anything.

There was a fully cooked roasted chicken on a platter, steam rising off the skin. Dishes full of mashed potatoes, asparagus, mixed salad and rice. A gravy boat, butter dish and an assortment of dressings were sitting on the end of the island. Oliver stuffed his hand into an oven mitt and pulled a cherry cobbler out of her own oven. She felt her jaw hit the floor.

Sitting on one of the barstools she snuck a piece of asparagus out of the bowl. It was then that she noticed just below the pocket of his pants were there would normally be a puma or Nike symbol was the all-seeing-eye again. It must be somewhere on all of his attire, every outfit. Like a shadow it was always present.

"Isn't this misuse of your abilities?" She asked referring to all the food.

"No such thing." Oliver said setting the cobbler on the cooling rack. "There are limits to magic sure. Things I can't do but there's nothing stopping me from taking advantage of what I can do." He leaned over and bit off a piece of the asparagus in her hand. His eyes locking with hers, flirting again. Her mouth went dry. Magic couldn't influence people's will, not that Oliver would need to stoop to such levels, but Reagan knew better than to think he was using magic to turn her completely to mush. Her inability to think when he looked at her was completely and entirely her own fault. Pull yourself together!

"Isn't using magic taxing on you? You almost died last night."

"Yes, using magic will consume some of the strength I've built up but I also need to eat so it will be worth the energy." He handed her a plate. There were two large glasses of wine in front of her she was pretty sure weren't there when she sat down. She didn't argue though. If he wanted to wear himself out she wasn't going to stop him. Besides, she took it as a good sign he was up and about.

She helped herself to the feast in front of her. Oliver took the stool next to her, eating in silence. It wasn't awkward, but comfortable; there was something comradely about it. She finished her plate of food and was full. Then watched as Oliver devoured nearly everything else. By the time he set his fork down all the potatoes were gone, the asparagus and rice, and nearly the entire chicken. There was maybe enough left over for one small meal. Reagan stood up and scooped out some cobbler onto two smaller plates.

"How in the world did you eat that much?" Reagan took a bite out of her cobbler. It was still hot, the perfect warm gooey temperature that didn't burn her tongue.

"Warlocks have a high metabolism." He mumbled between mouthfuls. It made sense. The amount of energy it took to control their magic, let alone use it would be immense. They were technically still human, just immortal magical versions. The calories he must burn through summoning would cover the amount of food she had eaten.