The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set: The Witching Pen, The Sands Of Time, The Demon Bride, The Last Dragon and Wilted

by Dianna Hardy

  The flames surrounding his body now also surrounded her own, in a delicious heat that confused the hell out of her. If she was the burying-your-head-in-the-sand type, she would be telling herself that the waves of lust sparking in her body were a side effect of Pueblo's supernatural fire. Unfortunately, Amy was a realist, and could not deny the fact that this demon was eye candy at its best, with or without magic flames. Hell, if she'd known demons could look like this, she'd have been seeking them out a long time ago.

  A low laugh rumbled in Pueblo's chest. “We don't all look like this.”

  “Oh, shit! You can hear my thoughts? You can do that?”

  “No … you spoke aloud.”

  “I did not!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  I did?

  Clearly the flames were getting to her. Half-heartedly, she tried to pull out from under his arm, but he was having none of it.

  “Are we nearly there yet?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her, looking amused. “You're funny, Amy, I like that.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped.

  How is what I said funny?

  “Really, Etienne – that's The Council's Elder – he'll be expecting me back any minute.”

  “Relax, there's plenty of time.”

  “All I need is an agreement from the Dessec that I can take back to him.”

  “What he is proposing is against our morals, and not that easy to achieve. It will take longer than a minute to convince us that his mission is worth our taking part in.”

  Inwardly, she cursed Etienne. Convince them? She hadn't planned on having to convince them of anything – she barely knew what this whole thing was about. With a sigh of resignation, she realised this little trip may take more than the day she'd put aside. She wasn't sure if Etienne had more than a day to spare – not that there was much she could do about it.

  “Why are you here, Amy?”

  “I told you, to—”

  “No, that's why Etienne sent you – why are you here.”

  “What are you, fucking Jerry Springer? What does it matter?”

  “You matter, Amy.”

  Blood, or magic flames – she wasn't sure which – rose to her cheeks, and she found herself flummoxed. A child's voice, one she recognised as her own when she was little, came forward inside her mind in a hesitant whisper … I matter?

  Pueblo came to a sudden stop, causing Amy to stumble against him.

  “Hey!”

  “We're here.” The fire surrounding them faded away into the black of the night.

  She looked around, confused. “Here? There's nothing here.”

  “You can't see what's around you because you're not a demon.”

  “Oh … how can I effectively talk to you guys if I can't see anything?”

  “Take the essence of a demon into you, and you will see.”

  A faint ring of a bell, that sounded an awful lot like a warning, went off in her head. “Essence?”

  He pulled out a dagger from … she wasn't sure where. Did he have that in his loin cloth? What else does he have in there?

  Before she knew it, he'd sliced his wrist. His blood glistened the darkest of reds under the moon.

  “Drink, Amy; take me into you.”

  Her heart thudded in her ears – this was so not what she came for. “I can't,” she whispered, but she wasn't sure she meant it. When she next looked up at him, his eyes were bright yellow, his pupils slitted like that of a cat's … only he was more of a panther. Nothing kitteny about this demon.

  That heat rose up within her again, and this time, she couldn't blame the flames, what with them being extinguished and all. “I … I mean, I…”

  “If you do not drink, there will be no negotiations.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “Fact. You will not be able to see us, or communicate with us.”

  “I can see you.”

  “I am more accommodating of humans than my peers. I walk freely in your world, like all demons used to, but the others will not leave our protected dimension. You must go to them. And the only way you can do that, is to drink.”

  He held his wound an inch from her mouth. The scent of his rich blood pierced her sinuses and danced on her tongue. “Consequences,” she found herself saying. “There'll be consequences…”

  “There are always consequences, for every choice you make.” His hand found its way to the back of her neck, and pulled her towards him. Her thoughts were too jumbled to put up a fight.

  “Just a taste, Amy; you don't need to drink much.” His voice wrapped around her like silk, and all resistance left her. Maybe she was being seduced, but it was only her instinct she could feel, alive and burning within her, telling her this was something she needed to do. She heard Etienne's voice inside her mind, scolding her for her carelessness, but louder still, was the voice of her childhood self – no longer a whisper, it laughed with joy, the sound filling her heart with something she could not name.

  Her lips found the demon's wrist and sealed itself around the dripping cut. The strong, metallic liquid hit her tongue, and Amy's soul roared, as it soared out of her body.

  ~*~

  “Open the door, already,” Karl mumbled into the back of her neck between kisses, his hot breath tickling her skin.

  “I'm trying to, but you're not making it easy.”

  “You're fumbling.”

  “Of course I'm fumbling … mmm … that's good...”

  “You ever had a hickey? I want to give you a hickey.”

  “Karl, we're not fourteen!”

  “Don't bloody care. I was in love with you when I was fourteen – your neck owes me a hickey.”

  Finally, Elena managed to hold her hand steady enough to get the key in the lock, and they both tumbled inside. With his lips never once losing their focus, Karl kicked the door shut behind them.

  “Whoa, Casanova – I'm hungry.”

  “Mmm … so am I.”

  “I'm serious!” Like an obedient child, Elena's stomach growled. “See?”

  “Ugh...” With a sigh, he pulled away from her. “Fine, but it's going to be a really big hickey...”

  With a triumphant grin, she gave a him a peck and went to the fridge. “We have … nothing … because our food delivery's tomorrow … crap. Wait, we have eggs – you want eggs on toast?”

  “Let's see, it's quick to cook, quick to eat, which means I get you on your back more quickly … yes, I want.”

  “On my back?”

  “Or you could get me on my back, but last time you tried that, it didn't go so well.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, yeah, the spell … it won't happen again though … I don't think...”

  “Whatever...” His hands snaked around her waist as she broke the eggs into the frying pan. “I could be persuaded to give that another go.”

  She turned to face him, returning his hug. “Hey,” she said, softly. “I don't ever want to do that to you again – not like that.”

  “I know. I forgive you, by the way.”

  “I know you do, but I haven't forgiven me yet, so how about tonight, I leave you in charge of the seducing, okay?”

  “I can live with that.”

  The toast popped up.

  “Dinner in two minutes then...”

  “I'll lay the table,” he said, giving her bum a smack as he went.

  Fifteen minutes later, Elena wasn't nearly full enough, but at least her stomach had stopped growling. She sat on Karl's lap as he flicked through television channels, but night had fallen, and neither of them were concentrating on the brash lights and sounds that the box emitted.

  “Karl...”

  “Oooh, look, it's Buffy.”

  “Karl, I think we should hide the pen.”

  “Uh … all right...”

  “Actually, I think you should do it, so I don't know where it is.”

  “Nothing's happened, has it?”

  “No, but I don't want to take any chances. It was horrific what
happened Saturday night, but it's kind of more eerie just sitting around waiting for that bloody pen to do something … and when I fall asleep, I don't want—”

  “Hey, nothing's going to happen, not with me around.”

  “I know you mean that, I really do, but how can you possibly know that?”

  “I don't know … it's a feeling. As long as I'm with you, everything's okay.”

  She laughed. “This is loved up Karl talking.”

  “Maybe,” he smiled, “but the feeling remains.”

  “Well, that's good to know … but I still don't want to take any chances. Please, it'll make me feel so much better.”

  “All right, darling, I'll squirrel it away somewhere.”

  “Thank you,” she sighed, nestling into his arm. “Do you think it means anything, that he hasn't used that pen against me since Saturday night?”

  “I haven't got a clue. But it's only been forty-eight hours … and he did enter your dreams again only last night...”

  “Hey, you're frowning – don't think about that. He's not coming between us. You're the one that pulled me back, remember?”

  “I'll always pull you back … I'll always be there for you, Elena.”

  “I know … there's something else I wanted to talk to you about...”

  He turned to face her, bringing her up against his chest. “Go on.”

  She hesitated, not knowing exactly how to say what she wanted to. How did people do this? It must be easier when you're sixteen and ruled by hormones...

  “Er … the thing is … I-uh … I love you. Maybe I have for a long time, I don't know. But, really, it's always been you and, I want it to be you. What I mean is, that I want you – I want to make love with you.”

  Chewing nervously on her lip, she peeked at Karl from the corner of her eye. Oh, God, he looked stunned. That was probably not a good sign. “But we don't have to … I mean, if you don't want to it's fine—”

  “Elena,” he cupped her face and brought her close, “of course I bloody want to, but you … you'd be giving up so much.”

  “I'd be gaining more – a whole life with you. We could have children, we could be together without this constant yearning, or this feeling that we're missing out on something—”

  “I'd never feel like I'm missing anything with you.”

  “Then you're a saint, because I'm pretty sure I would.” She rolled the button of his shirt anxiously between her fingers. “So … do you want to … with me?”

  “Just so I don't make a complete tit of myself, can I assume that by 'want to, with you', you are actually referring to making love with you? In the full-on sex kind of way?”

  “Yes. And I know it puts a huge burden on you, what with you becoming a super powerful witch and all, but—”

  “You know I don't care about that; I'll deal with it – we'll deal with it together.”

  She looked at him, guiltily, and they both fell into a silence that was almost uncomfortable.

  “I have this horrible feeling I've ruined things...”

  “No, never – I'm just … I've wanted you to say those words to me for most of my life.”

  “That I want to make love with you?”

  “That you love me. A part of me can't believe you're really here – that we're really here, like this.”

  “Well, I do love you … more than anything.”

  “I want you to be sure – I'm not going anywhere, Elena, maybe we should wait a week—”

  “No, now,” she whispered. “Tonight. I want to be with you tonight. I've spend too many years scared of this. I've never let myself feel anything close to love; I've never even used my magic to its full potential. I've been so terrified of my lineage, of what it would mean to … everyone, if I did something careless and my powers got lost...” Tears sprang up in her eyes. “I've never lived. Karl, I want to live with you. And I want to start now.”

  Another silence. She felt her tears trickle down her face, and smiled when she saw Karl's own eyes were shimmering. “God, we're soppy, aren't we?”

  He smiled. “It'll be our little secret.”

  Hesitantly, she leaned in and kissed him. Aware that he hadn't actually said yes to her little proposal, she pulled back, uncertainty ruling her heart. She didn't get very far.

  He held her fast against him and crushed his lips to hers. She heard him fumble for the remote and Buffy's voice disappeared as the telly went off. With her mind, she dimmed the lights.

  Karl grinned against her. “I thought you weren't supposed to use magic frivolously?”

  “I'm starting to think that a lot of things I've been told aren't true. Now are you going to take me upstairs or shall I teleport us?”

  Chapter Eight

  Amy stirred on the edge of consciousness. She felt groggy. Her head felt like she'd drunk half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  With a groan, she gripped the edge of her duvet and pulled it higher, snuggling down into its warmth. Wait … what...?

  A pair of yellow eyes flashed into her mind; a cut on a wrist; blood the colour of ripe cherries...

  With a start she sat up, and wished she hadn't. Her room swam around her as her head pounded.

  Oh, shit, I'm going to hurl...

  The room steadied. She dropped her head between her knees, taking deep breaths, forcing herself past the throbbing in her skull to try and remember what the hell had happened.

  “Amy.”

  She screamed, momentarily forgetting her pain. There were those eyes, beautiful and dangerous all at once, lurching at her from the shadows of her room.

  “Pueblo?” she croaked out. If she could just stop her head from stabbing her, and quieten the pounding of her heart, maybe she'd get some kind of clue as to what was going on. “I'm home … why am I home?”

  “I brought you back.”

  “I don't remember...”

  “No, I'm sorry. The meeting with my tribe was not successful. They asked me to make sure your memory was wiped so you would not try to find them again.”

  “What? You … erased my memory?”

  “I had no choice.”

  Anger replaced the grogginess she was feeling. “There's always a choice.”

  “Well, my choice was, wipe your memory, or get us both lynched by my own kind. I chose the first option.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked, suddenly more irritated than anything else. “And how am I back home?”

  “I teleported us.”

  It was then that she realised, to her horror, she was stark naked and flashing all her assets to the demon.

  With a squeal, she grabbed the duvet and pulled it flush against her body. “Why am I naked?!”

  He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Do you know how hard it is to teleport two of us at once across such a distance? I needed to get rid of all material items.”

  “You still have your loin cloth on.”

  A smirk appeared on his face, so sure of itself, she wanted to slap it off. “If it would make you feel better, I'm more than happy to lose the garment.” He hooked his thumbs into its waistband.

  “No! God, don't!”

  To Amy's relief, he removed his hands from the well-worn leather and leaned back against the wall.

  “How did you know where I live?”

  “My blood is in you,” he said, softly. “It was easy for me to find where you live.”

  “Oh.”

  “And you will be able to seek me out also, whenever you need me.” He sounded so warm and caring in his tone, she almost forgot she was mad at him.

  There was an awkward pause, while she tried to figure out how to put some clothes on with him in the room.

  “Okay, you can go now.”

  Instead he strode towards her and perched himself on her bed.

  She tightened her hold on the duvet.

  “Not until I know you're all right.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “You didn't look so good when you woke up.”

  �
�Well, since then, I learned that you've taken my memory, stripped me naked and bonded me to you through your blood, so I'm just peachy now!”

  His laughter boomed around the room.

  “What's so funny?”

  “You. Your anger is beautiful...”

  “To a demon, maybe.”

  “And it'll keep you alive.”

  “Or it'll give me an aneurysm.”

  Suddenly, she stiffened, a familiar sensation creeping up her spine.

  “Amy, what is it?”

  “Etienne. He's on his way here now – you have to go.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We have this connection thing … he's going to be here any minute, you have to go.”

  He frowned. “Connection? Maybe I should meet him.”

  “Are you insane? He hates demons; he'll probably annihilate you on the spot!”

  “I'm not that easy to get rid of.”

  “No kidding … please – I'm already in for it when I tell him I've brought him back nothing.”

  “All right,” he nodded. “I'll go, but I'll know if you're in danger, Amy. I'll keep you safe.”

  “Whatever … just get the fuck out – he'll be here any second!”

  Before Amy saw it coming, Pueblo smacked a kiss on her lips. Sparks of what felt like electricity crackled between them. Logic told her they should have thrown her from him, but instead she found herself pulled further in, a moan escaping her at the strange sensation.

  He broke the kiss, flashed her a grin, then dissipated before her eyes.

  Etienne knocked on the front door.

  Well, at least he knocked, she thought, wryly.

  Throwing on the first outfit she could find, she rushed downstairs to open the door, and hoped her still aching head wasn't about to get a whole lot worse.

  ~*~

  Karl was in heaven. Long, dark, lush hair cascaded across his chest, stroking him like feathered wings, as the love of his life swept his mouth with her soft kisses.

  Stripping her had been the most beautiful, surreal experience of his life, and the time it took to get her naked had gone far too quickly … not that having her skin flushed against his own wasn't a luxury in itself.