Long Lost Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “I didn’t want any of this. I only wanted you all to be happy,” she cried.

  Spring stepped forward and ran a hand down Aurora’s back. “But the journey to revive you is what brought our happiness, Mama. Without those missions to find the artifacts, none of us would have gotten together with our fated mates.”

  “I don’t believe in fated mates. It’s an old wives’ tale that some Thorne ancestor of yours made up to justify that bloody curse Isis heaped on her line.”

  Three sets of eyebrows rose in surprise at Aurora’s vehement response.

  “It is a bloody curse,” she insisted. “How many Thornes were sentenced to a life of misery after their one and only love died?” She met Preston’s thoughtful gaze. “And you, Preston? You fell in love with your brother’s lover. How have you suffered over the years? Was it all an infatuation? Did you meet another you could love?”

  His expression closed off, but not before she saw the flash of hurt. “You’ve proven your point, Aurora. Let it go,” he said gruffly before pivoting on his heel to exit the room.

  She found it difficult to meet the eyes of her children. Two of the five women who had suffered much to bring her back to life. “You finish up here. I need some fresh air.”

  Aurora rushed toward the mahogany doors in her need to escape the censure of her daughters.

  “Let her go,” she heard Spring say. “She needs more time.”

  It was doubtful that time could restore to her what was lost or could heal the ache in her chest from what her angry words wrought, but maybe her child knew best.

  12

  Unable to go directly to his house and face the lonely mausoleum he called home, Alastair found himself wandering the glen between the Thorne and Carlyle estates. Next month was the anniversary of his birth. Seventy-six years he’d been on this earth. He felt like he’d lived through hell and back. Some would say he had. All he knew was that exhaustion weighed him down. He could have been two hundred and seventy-six for all that it mattered.

  Removing his suit jacket, he bundled it behind his head as he sprawled out on the grass in the clearing. He’d come here as a child: him, Preston, and GiGi along with the Carlyle children.

  For the first time in forever, he thought about Tristan Carlyle. Suave and debonair, with his thick, wavy hair, he had seemed just Aurora’s type—more so than Preston or himself. Yet, she never spared him a glance, despite what she’d said to her daughters in the kitchen. Aurora had only had eyes for Alastair. Even if she had been interested in Tristan, she’d have been disappointed. Tristan had been wildly in love with Glory Ashbrooke at the time.

  Alastair snorted. To be so young and naive again. To go back to that time before the witches’ war started and regain that innocence they had all seemed to share. He scrubbed his hands across his face, surprised by the scratchy stubble. When had he last thought to shave? It didn’t matter. He had no woman’s soft skin to consider.

  Exhaustion took hold, and he closed his eyes, giving in to the need for sleep. He’d had so little in the last weeks. At first, he was always on call should Aurora need him. Then, due to the heartache and turmoil, he’d been unable to chase away the demons that refused to let him rest. Now, his watch was over. He could find rest here for a bit.

  Just as he began to drift off, a pulse of anger hit him from out of the blue, and he jerked awake. He lay still, cracking his lids only marginally to scan the deep shadows of the woods surrounding the clearing. Someone was watching him.

  Alastair closed his eyes and sighed. Perhaps whoever it was would do the world a favor and take him out. He was beyond caring one way or the other.

  “I know you’re here,” he called. “Come do your worst.”

  “You have so little regard for life, don’t you, Alastair? Yours included. I wonder why mine was important to you. Was it obsession?”

  Rorie.

  That explained the absence of the intent to harm.

  “Of course it was,” he retorted, irritable and out of sorts. “Isn’t it obvious? According to you, I don’t have the capacity to love.” He was damned tired of her surliness all the time. Yes, he understood where it originated and why, but it still vexed him.

  She marched to where he lay and glared down at him. He didn’t anticipate the first kick to the ribs, or the one that followed. Really, who would dare strike him once, much less twice? When Aurora shifted her foot back for the third blow, Alastair rolled to his side and grabbed her leg.

  “Enough!” he growled. “I don’t want to hurt you, Aurora, but I swear to the Goddess I will if you kick me again.”

  “Let go of me, you bloody wanker.”

  Her attack of his person and his character rankled. His anger took hold, and he gripped the back of her knees and pulled. She collapsed forward, and he cushioned her fall with his body. When she would have fought him, he rolled atop her, pinning her harms above her head.

  “I am sick to death of your insults and your unjustified anger, Aurora.” Without her consent, he slapped a hand over her heart and another across her forehead. The force of the magical healing power he pushed through her caused them both to gasp. She cried out from the pain, but he didn’t stop. He knew the torturous feeling of this magical procedure because he’d been in her position years before when Isis had healed him. The shock to the cells burned like a bitch.

  When Aurora’s face contorted in silent agony and she beat her fists against his chest, Alastair released her. He conjured a cooling wind to soothe her hot skin. As the flush faded from her cheeks, she opened her eyes.

  “I didn’t give you permission to do that to me.”

  “I wasn’t asking.” Before she could dredge up her outrage, he said, “Your anger was building to a critical point. That was a clear indication you needed a second infusion of magic to balance your emotions. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  As he moved to roll away, she grabbed his shirtfront and held him in place. Her eyes locked with his, and her hands shifted up to cradle his head. His ability allowed him to feel her building desire, feel her need to touch and be touched. Alastair wanted nothing more than to make love to her, but he wouldn’t. Not like this. Not on the tail end of her fury. Years ago, he might have partaken in a little angry sex to blow off steam, but not anymore. He only wanted peace and love during the act. Wanted to be able to experience the deepest spiritual connection to the woman he loved.

  “No.”

  Determination lit her face, and she spread her thighs to cradle him close, wrapping her long legs around his hips as she thrust upward. “Yes.”

  He smothered his moan of pleasure at the contact he longed for. “No,” he stated again.

  The narrowing of her eyes warned him she had no intention of giving up. When one of her hands cupped his erection, he hissed out a breath. “Damn you, Rorie,” he gasped.

  She quickly removed her hand from his dick to clench her fist and shoot magic toward the sky in her effort to stem off the influx of locusts. Alastair took advantage of her inattention to move away from her. He rose to his knees, sitting back on his heels as he sucked in oxygen.

  Aurora duplicated his position and began to unbutton her blouse. Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to the skin exposed by the gaping silk. Unable not to, he watched as, one-by-one, she flicked open the pearly buttons and parted the material to reveal herself to his greedy gaze.

  “Make love to me, Alastair.” The husky, wanton quality to her voice had what little blood that remained in his head rushing to his cock. “Right here, right now.”

  “I can’t. You broke my ribs,” he lied, desperate for any excuse to throw between them. He needed to stop this runaway train, or they’d both regret it after it was over. Okay, she would regret it. He doubted any moment spent making love to her would make him regretful.

  With a dark frown, she snapped her fingers, stripping him of his shirt. She inched forward and probed the ribs she’d kicked. “You’re a consummate liar, darling.” Meeting his challenging gaze
, she trailed a finger along the ridges of his abdominal muscles and then flicked a finger at the reddened skin on his side.

  Alastair never flinched.

  Aurora arched a brow and grinned.

  “You’re the devil incarnate, sent to torment me until the end of my days,” he muttered as he hauled her close.

  Their kiss consumed him. In the back of his mind, he knew he should be gentle, to be considerate of her semi-fragile state, but she wanted none of that. She dug her fingers in the muscles of his back as she clung to him during their kiss. With the nails of one hand, she raked his neck then curled her fingers into his hair.

  She continued to be the aggressor, jerking his head back and biting his chin. “I’m not the delicate flower you believe me to be, Alastair.”

  No, she wasn’t. She was brave and beautiful and all things wild.

  He tumbled her to the ground so fast she gasped. “More like a dandelion with a prickly stem, I’d say. You take root and refuse to be eradicated.”

  “You make me sound like a weed.”

  “No, dandelions are for wishes. They promote hope, and in some cases, they heal.” He nuzzled the long column of her throat. “But still, they are complex plants, just like you, my love.”

  “I’ll take the analogy because I like dandelions,” she said primly, all the while unbuttoning his pants and shoving them over his hips.

  He laughed at her eagerness. That laugh turned to a moan of pure pleasure as she ran her hand the length of his erection and back again. She continued to do this—and he let her because his enjoyment was too great. Slow, fast, teasingly, and firm she stroked, until unable to withstand another moment without coming, Alastair halted her movements.

  “Stop. I can’t take much more,” he ground out, gritting his teeth against the urge to allow her to continue until his release.

  “We’ve only just started, darling,” she purred. With her tongue, she lightly traced the cords of his neck. She bit down when she got to a particularly muscular spot.

  “You forget, I’ve abstained for twenty years with the exception of pleasuring myself. It takes a toll on a man’s ability to last,” he gasped out.

  She drew back and met his steady gaze. Her face softened, and this time, when she drew his head down for a kiss, there was a tenderness to her actions. It was as if by telling her he’d stayed faithful to their relationship, he’d set her free to experience real caring.

  Her actions were still bold, but they weren’t as calculated as a few minutes before. Now, she traced her fingers over the planes of his chest and abdomen for the joy of the lovemaking and not the desire to mate without emotional entanglement.

  He broke their kiss and trailed his lips along her jawline. When he reached her ear, he pulled the lobe between his teeth and lightly bit down before sucking. Her delighted intake of breath made him smile. As his fingers explored her body, her clothes fell away under the magic of his touch, until they lay bare, skin against skin.

  He cupped the underside of her breasts, pushing them up and together. He buried his head in the valley between, breathing deeply of her scent, allowing it to flow over him and soothe the savage beast in him. With his mouth, he explored the curve of one alabaster globe, stopping at her pale peach nipple, tightly beaded against the cool air.

  Alastair laved attention on it, then blew on the glistening bud. She arched beneath him, parting her legs and rubbing her slickness against his dick. He sucked in a sharp breath. Aurora took this as encouragement and repeated the motion. Faster and harder the second and third times.

  Sitting back on his heels, he placed his hands on her knees and spread her legs. He stared down at her perfection, and he could see the proof of her desire at the apex of her thighs. One of her hands cupped her left breast as the other moved lower to touch herself.

  In rapt fascination, he watched as she swirled her finger over her clit. In the act of pleasuring herself, her arousal reached a fever pitch, and her hips pumped in rhythm to her building climax. Just before she sent herself over the edge, he grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away. He bent and placed his mouth on her, taking over the task of bringing her to completion. Her cry echoed around the clearing, sending birds fleeing from their places under the canopy of branches.

  Alastair didn’t allow Aurora to come down from her high. Instead, he inserted two fingers into her, then withdrew. He did this again and again, as his mouth continued to worship her. She bucked against him, squirming as if to get away, yet at the same time holding his head in place between her legs. Her second orgasm flooded her passage and smoothed the way for his entry.

  He eased into her and laid his body atop hers, his elbows on either side of her head, trying to hold back some of his weight. Hot, wet, and tight, she welcomed him. It had been too long since he’d felt anything so right.

  Aurora’s knees cradled his hips, and her ankles crossed behind his thighs. She gripped his back, urging him closer as she arched up to meet his thrusts. As his speed increased and he pumped into her with wild abandonment, her hands cupped his ass. She rose to meet him with his every forward movement.

  Neither could speak as they allowed their fiery passion to dominate their lovemaking. Only the soft, sensual cries could be heard between the harsh breaths they sucked in and expelled. As he could feel his balls tighten with his imminent orgasm, the walls of her vagina contracted around him. Those contractions were almost painful in their intensity, and yet, the pleasure nearly caused his eyes to roll back in his head. He called her name over and over as he pumped the last of his seed into her.

  For a long moment, he rested his full weight on her, certain he couldn’t move even if they were under attack. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and didn’t seem to be going anywhere, anytime soon. The air cooled around them, and the breeze picked up, caressing their sweat-slick bodies.

  He lifted his head to look down into her flushed face. “You?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Nice touch.”

  “No, darling, I’d say you have the nice touch.”

  He laughed and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Rolling, he pulled her against him. Neither spoke as they watched the clouds shift overhead.

  “Not to complain, because I love nature and all, but do you suppose we could take this to a comfortable bed?” she asked.

  Happy laughter bubbled up and out, triggering her light giggle in response.

  “Hold on, my love. I’ll have us home in a flash.”

  Closing his eyes, he visualized his bedroom—more specifically, his bed.

  When they arrived, she lifted her head enough to look around. He wondered what she saw when she looked at the light gray room. Although large, the space was stark. The room was a departure from the one they’d shared. He’d always imagined she’d want to decorate it to her tastes after she woke.

  “Why did you get rid of everything?” she asked curiously.

  “Everywhere I looked was a constant reminder of us when we were happy. Every single time I walked into this room, it hit me like a sledgehammer to the heart.” He shrugged lightly. Embarrassment struggled for a foothold on his emotions. “I figured when you woke up, you’d probably want to redecorate,” he said as if it were no big deal.

  Aurora rested her chin on her folded hands and stared down at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For my recklessness. For leaving you to raise Holly by yourself. For sentencing you to this personal hell.” She swallowed and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  He brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over her eyebrow. “You don’t have to apologize, Rorie. Obviously, if I could have found a way to reverse time and prevent it all from happening, I would have, but you’re awake now.”

  “Yes. I’m awake now,” she agreed and rested her head on him, snuggling against his side.

  As he cradled her to his chest, he nuzzled into her silky, blue hair. This new look suited the Aurora of today. She was daring, fierce,
and full of fight. He could do with a little less anger on her part, but time would help her heal.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked sleepily.

  “You.”

  She rose up on her elbow to look at him. “Me? What about me?”

  “I was thinking about how fierce you’ve become. You’re ready to take on the world with little provocation.” He trailed his hand down the valley between her breasts, then cupped her fullness. “You are a wonder to behold, my love.”

  “Am I so different than before?” The blue of her eyes deepened in color, and her face took on a distinctly vulnerable expression.

  “Yes and no. I see the woman I remember on occasion, but you’ve changed to a large degree. It could be that your time in the Otherworld molded you into a different person.” He twisted and laved attention on the tightened nipple in front of him. “Twenty years is a long time. I’m sure I’m not the same man I was, in more ways than one.”

  She sat up, shoved his hands away, and clutched the sheet to her chest. Alastair wanted nothing more than to tug it out of her clenched fist.

  “You’re harder,” she said.

  Frowning, he sat up, locking his hands around his knees. “How so?”

  “You just are. Colder, more determined.” She shrugged. “You were never one to suffer fools, but now? Now, I fear you would smite someone as soon as they irritated you.”

  “Pfft. Not hardly, or half the planet would be empty.”

  Her laughter eased the building tension. “When I catch these glimpses of your humor, I’m reminded of who and what we were to each other.”

  “You are still the most important person in my world, Aurora Fennell-Thorne. Never doubt that for a moment. Everything I do, I do for you.”

  “But at what cost, Alastair? Who have you hurt in your quest to keep me by your side? This obsession isn’t healthy,” she insisted.

  “Without you, I don’t have much left to live for.” The hoarseness in his voice conveyed only a small part of the depth of his feelings. He hoped she heard the truth of his words. To spend the rest of his life without her by his side wasn’t living. It would be the highest form of torture.