The Viking's Witch

by Holley Trent

  “Yeah. Could be severe endo or adenomyosis. Can’t diagnose definitively without surgery.”

  “But you usually just know.”

  Chris grunted. One of his freakish magic tricks was pinpointing physical ailments. “Is she not willing to have the surgery?”

  “I dunno. I think someone gave her a Percocet. The last I heard, she was in the ER bathroom puking her guts out.”

  “Okay.” Chris let out a breath and smoothed his hand down Marty’s back. She still hadn’t moved, and he still didn’t want to move. “I’ll go down there and see if I can deescalate things and talk folks into getting her a laparoscopy today. Better to diagnose during a flare-up, anyway.”

  Paul shook his head, and stood. “Nah. Stay put. I’m going to go down there and see if I can pull the strings. I’ll call you if I need you to give me backup.”

  “Hand me my phone?”

  Paul tossed the cell from the nightstand. It’d been just out of Chris’s reach. “Try not to fall asleep in the next couple of hours,” Paul said.

  “I’m not making that promise, but I’ll turn the ringer volume up.”

  Paul closed the bedroom door on his way out.

  Chris shifted beneath the covers to pull Marty in closer against him. She was silken-skinned and warm, and he didn’t want to stop touching her. That was only half due to her feeling so damned good in his arms. The other half was a factor of them having utterly and completely jointed in an unbreakable way the night before. They held a bit of each other inside.

  If anything, he’d be more skin-starved in coming days and weeks until his body and brain decided that he was getting the right balance of her. He’d be fucked if she really did hurry back to Florida.

  He didn’t want to wake her—he wanted her to rest so her brain would make the necessary neural connections to handle more intimate psychic exchanges—for them to easily swap thoughts and memories across great distances. Already, his head was throbbing from the overload of new memories that certainly weren’t his but that would inform his decision making all the same. He felt like he knew everything about her, even if he’d only known her in the flesh for a day.

  He pressed his lips into the hollow of her neck and pulled a giggle out of her. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I was half-awake when Paul was in here.”

  “Oh?” Chris danced his fingertips down her bare arm and then twined his fingers through hers. “Hear anything interesting?”

  “A lot of things.” She sighed, and wriggled her rear end against his crotch.

  He pulled a breath through his clenched teeth and prayed for some restraint. One wrong move, and he’d be inside her and didn’t think he’d be apologetic. Slipping into her from that position would have been easy enough.

  He skated his fingers down to her belly beneath the covers and teased the flesh just over her mound. If she lifted her top leg and hooked it over his, he could stoke her slowly while tapping her clit. He craved those satisfied noises she made when he was inside her. They were like candy to him.

  “My head hurts,” she whispered.

  “Not surprising.” He stilled his hand and leaned up a bit to brush his lips across her temples. “Dull pain?”

  Eyes closed, she nodded. “Did you just…upload every single one of your memories into me? Is that the way this is supposed to work?”

  “Not all of my memories. Probably just the highlight reel. That’s what I have of your memories—everything you might have told me if you’d known me for a few months.”

  “Efficient.”

  He kissed her again, and settled back with his hand over her belly. “And I don’t know if what happened is typical. There aren’t many people who’ve found matches since the Great Afótama Magic Backwash, so—as Will might say—there isn’t sufficient data.”

  “That didn’t happen to Erin. I can say that for sure.”

  “I’m not sure it worked that way with the queen and either of her chieftains, either, but they’re outliers with everything they do.”

  “Shit, I was so rude to her.” Marty groaned and draped her arm across her eyes.

  “Who, Tess?”

  “Yeah. When she and Nadia came to our door back in Florida, I pretty much slammed it in their faces. Mallory was the one who went after them to follow up.”

  “I’m glad she did.”

  “I’m sure she is, too. She’s so much happier now than she was in Florida. I didn’t realize how alone she felt there. I’m trying not to take it personally.”

  “She’s Afótama. Her instincts tell her that there’s safety in numbers, so she behaved the way she was wired to.” He slid his hand down more, teasing the top of Marty’s slit, gently tapping the hood of her clit.

  She writhed against him, grabbed his forearm to still his hand, and laughed. “Quit.”

  “Mmm. You really want me to? An orgasm might help your headache.” He slid his cock between her thighs, gathering lubrication from her slit as he went along, and occasionally teasing her entrance with the head of him.

  She sighed, and then rolled away from him onto her belly. “I’m horny as hell, to be honest, which is probably your fault somehow.”

  “Not my fault. We’re both compelled to touch—to fuck, even—right now. Smooths the rough edges of our connection, I guess.”

  “And how long is that supposed to take?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. Like I said—”

  “Right.” She laughed into the mattress. “Insufficient data.”

  “If you want to just lie right there and tilt your ass up a bit, I can take care of everything for you.”

  “You’re so generous, Chris.”

  He palmed the curve of her very fine posterior and grunted. “I don’t know about generous, but I’ll certainly give everything I have to you. Again…and again. He gave her ass a swat and watched it bounce as if he were a hungry man waiting for a buffet to get refilled.

  All mine.

  He swatted it again.

  “You’re going to get yourself in trouble, Doc.”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. I may know your mind, Martina, but I need some more time to get to know your body.”

  “You seem to know where all my best parts are, and I don’t think that’s because you have a medical degree.”

  “No, it’s because I’m a dirty bastard and instinctively hone in on all the parts of you that will make you wetter if I touch them.” He slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her sex. “How’s that headache?”

  “Getting throbbier by the moment, I hate to say.”

  “That’s a shame.” He pulled his fingers through her cleft brought his hand to his mouth for a taste. “Mine’s getting better.”

  “You’re used to this, though.” She turned her face toward him and opened one bloodshot eye.

  He winced.

  Fuck.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes are more red than white. Close them for a while. I’ll see if I have any aspirin.”

  “I can’t. I need to get Shani dressed and fed.”

  “Really, Martina?” He propped his elbow onto the bed and cocked an eyebrow up at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Shani’s asleep. You have to know that as well as I do.”

  Marty closed her eyes again and scrunched her nose. “I… That’s so weird.”

  “You sense her on the web, right?”

  “More clearly now than last night. Before, the web was kind of like a blurry map with a few dim points and my…my f—”

  “You don’t have to say his name. I understand. As your closest full-blooded relative here, Dan was your anchor.”

  She swallowed hard and cringed as if even that action was too loud. “He’s sort of been, I guess, shunted to the side now. My network seems a bit different. There’s Mal and her kids nearby, and of course Queen Tess and the chieftains in the middle. I felt like, before, I was on the edge of the table falling off, but now the we
b feels more spherical—like I’m attached to people, no matter what.”

  And she would be, no matter who got cut out of it. Chris didn’t want to say that aloud, though. He didn’t want to bring down her calm, contented mood, when the truth was that her network getting re-hinged was a good thing. She hadn’t articulated the specific changes, but he knew what she must have been seeing. Her network had been knit into his, not her father’s. If Dan ended up getting shunned from the community in the way he deserved, Marty wouldn’t endure too much of a shock, nor Shani, for that matter.

  “Can you find my parents on the web? My sister?” he asked.

  “Your mother for sure. I only know because I’ve met her. I’m less certain of the others.”

  “You’re doing it right. Don’t worry. Reaching out to people you’ve met is always easier than the ones you’re aware of through a mutual contact.”

  “Be patient with me, Chris.”

  “I don’t have a choice but to be, honey. You’ll figure that out soon enough. When you’re anxious, my drive will be to figure out why you’re upset and to fix whatever made you that way.”

  Eyes still closed, she furrowed her brow. “And that works both ways, doesn’t it?”

  “Mm-hmm. Everything works both ways. Balance is key in Afótama relationships.”

  “Sad that I find that strange.”

  “What? That relationships are two-way streets?”

  She grunted softly. “When I was married, I spent so much time feeling like I was the only one giving anything—like I was the only one trying. I was trying to make things work for Shani, but I guess they just weren’t meant to work.”

  “I hate to be callous, but your ex served his role, briefly, and exited stage left to get out of the way.”

  “Get out of your way, you mean.”

  Chris shrugged, in spite of the fact that Marty’s eyes weren’t open to see him.

  “I can’t believe how easy this is for you,” she said. “You don’t see anything unusual about collecting a lady with a kid and immediately thinking about reordering your life to fit them into it.”

  “Are you saying I should make this harder for you?”

  “No, I just…” She scrunched her nose again and groaned. “Look, I’m trying not to compare the morals and ideals of the outside world to the ones that make sense to this place, but I lived on the outside for thirty years. The Viking practicality thing is new to me, but trust me, I understand the appeal. I want to be able to accept things at face value the way you do, but that’s going to take me some time.”

  “I don’t want to rush you, Marty. You know that. I’ve just been waiting a long time for you, and I can’t help but to be frustrated by any delays that get in the way of you settling in here.”

  “Settling—fuck. I’d have to move.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of the way this thing works. You do want me, don’t you?”

  “That’s not up to debate. This is my hang-up, not yours. Agreeing to move in with a guy I’ve known for a day isn’t normal, even if I’ve spent the better part of a night tromping through his memories.”

  “And him through yours.”

  She opened her bloodshot eye again and pushed up its eyebrow. “And you like me anyway?”

  He smiled and gave her earlobe the tiniest of tugs. “Get to know more Afótama women. There’s a reason the clan has remained matrilineal after all these years. They keep their families in check. I think our women are probably better magic users, too.”

  “I don’t have any magic. Not like you.”

  “Yes, you do. Maybe you don’t think of what you can do as magic because you’ve always drawn on it instinctively without knowing, but being an outside party, I can see it for what it is.”

  She pushed up onto her forearms, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  “You’ve never noticed that people tend to stay away from you when you really want them to? I think I’m making the right connection based on the memories I sorted through. I need your confirmation, though.”

  “Staying away from me? Chris, that’s just attitude. Scrunch your face in the right way, and you can make pretty much anyone take five steps back.”

  He shook his head. “What you’re capable of is more than that, I think, and I’m pretty sure you used it on me.”

  “How? When?”

  “In the exam stall at the hospital before I stepped in.”

  “I was angry, is all. I wasn’t trying to work magic. I was just tired of waiting, and I heard a man’s voice, and I girded myself.”

  “Because men are always hitting on you, right?”

  “I guess I’m an easy target.”

  “No, you’re pretty and people try their luck.” He chafed her arm and chose his next words carefully. “Your abilities are what I think Will categorizes as defensive magic, and I believe Mallory’s skill set is about the same. Think back—like the time you were at the park with all the kids, and that skulking guy walked over to you.”

  “The skulking sketchy guy. Yeah, what about him? He ran away before he could get a word out.”

  “Probably because both you and Mallory compelled him to. You might have just wished or thought you wanted him to go away, and that you wanted to be safe, but that was enough. Magic for many people starts with strong intent. If you want something bad enough, you can make it happen.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that, Chris.”

  “Don’t trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you. I just think you’re conflating attitude with magic, and I have far more of one than the other.”

  “I don’t know if I agree with that, but we could certainly test the theory at some point. We could have Will and the folks in the mansion trace back the family lines to see who you might have inherited it from.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into what you felt. And besides, there’s a chance that if what I have is magic at all, it may be spontaneous. Not necessarily inherited.”

  “But then the chances of both you and Mallory having the same kind would be astronomically low, unless your mother isn’t what you think she is.”

  Propping herself up on her elbows, she furrowed her brow at him again.

  “Don’t try to use it on me,” he said preemptively.

  “How’d you know I was thinking that?”

  He scoffed. “Not magic. I made an educated guess using the evidence I already have. You want to make me go away?” He moved closer to her and put on his broadest grin. “You’d be shooting yourself in the foot, sweetheart. You don’t want to be away from me any more than I want to be away from you right now, and don’t you dare stick your lip out at me and tell me I’m full of shit.”

  She rolled her eyes, moaned softly—rubbing her temples—and then closed her lids once more. “Say that what I have is magic—”

  “I’m ninety percent certain it is.”

  “Okay. Then, how could we have something our father doesn’t? You don’t think he has the same stuff?”

  “Nope, unless he’s been holding out on the entire community for all these years. We don’t generally hide our gifts, because having them in the first place is so rare.”

  Marty snuggled up close to Chris and let out a long, ragged breath. “I…might have used it on my ex-husband a few times without knowing. I don’t want to think about this right now.”

  “Don’t think. Just sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep. I need to go get Shani up and bathed.”

  “Half an hour more to sleep off your headache won’t make much of a difference.”

  “With the way I’m feeling, half an hour might not be enough.”

  Grunting, he eased away from the warmth of her body so he could grab aspirin for her.

  If he didn’t get her headache under control quickly, her distress would start leaching into the web, and she’d end up with someone from the mansion querying her. For just a little while longer, he wanted his business to be his own. Everyone in town would find out s
oon enough that Norseton had a new couple, and he didn’t think Marty was game for the Viking brand of enthusiastic curiosity.

  “Chris?” she called when he was halfway to the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a lady in my head asking if I’m all right.”

  He threw his head back and cursed at the ceiling. “Muriel?”

  “Um. Maybe?”

  “Tell her I’m taking care of you.”

  After a few seconds, Marty said, “Not sure she believes you, but maybe I’m reading her skepticism wrong.”

  He shook a few white pills into his palm and headed toward the kitchen to grab Marty a bottle of water. “I doubt it.”

  So much for thirty more minutes of peace.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Marty’s worldview suddenly seemed to have more layers. Conversations took on new nuances, and her brain was sorting through language cues on a delay. She wasn’t used to having to separate vocalized words from words that had been thought at her, and some of the Afótama had very loud heads.

  The walk to the bakery to drop off Shani so Mrs. Holst didn’t have to abandon her kitchen had been blessedly short, though Marty was convinced that during the little walk, her poor daughter had decided once and for all that her mother was a hopeless case. Marty hadn’t even been able to quickly answer the question of whether or not her shirt was a new one when Shani had asked.

  Marty cringed as they stepped into the bakery and were bombarded by so many pungent aromas. Normally, she would have found the scent of so many breads and cakes enticing, but even the coffee smell was making her stomach turn. Marty drank more of the stuff than Colombian coffee bean farmers, so she hoped her affliction would be a short-lived done.

  “Gods, what’d he do to you?” Mrs. Holst asked after Chris nudged Marty and Shani through the waiting throng in the front of the shop.

  “Mom,” Chris snarled.

  “What?”

  Marty pushed her sunglasses up her nose and pinched her lips together when another wave of nausea swept over her. “Do I look that bad?”