Eternal Desire

by Kim Loraine

  “Fit?” Laughter colors the word. “Maybe that doesn’t mean what you think it means. Old ladies are typically not described as fit.”

  “What are you on about? You’re as gorgeous as ever.” I swear, he lets his hips lead him across the grass.

  “No. What do I look like to you?”

  He takes his lower lip between his teeth and steps a little closer. “Long blond waves I’d like to wrap my hands in, perfect full tits, an arse I’d love to spank as I bent you over my bed.”

  Everything below my waist tightens in anticipation of what he just said. Yes, I’d love that too. But, then the realization that my magic isn’t working makes worry take hold. “I don’t understand.” Glancing down at my hands, I see what I’m supposed to. Paper thin skin, wrinkles, arthritis. It should be working.

  “I’ve made no secret of my desire for you. Why are you surprised now?”

  “I shouldn’t look like that. Not now. I’m wearing a glamor.”

  He cocks his pierced eyebrow, the silver barbell glinting in the sunlight. “Seems to me, your spells are useless. You’re as gorgeous as ever.”

  Bugger.

  10

  Grant

  My little witch stands in front of me, her jaw set, breaths coming in slight pants, and desire filling her eyes. She wants me, but she’s not going to admit it without a fight. There’s a fire in her and it only serves to amplify my need.

  “So,” she begins, holding up a finger. “So, that means if I can’t use even a simple glamor to fool you, I couldn’t possibly have you under the thrall of my siren song.” A grin twists her lips. She looks smug. Like she’s just won a long game of chess. “Besides, it’s Helena who is the siren. I don’t use my song--ever.”

  That kills my smirk. “What?”

  “Sorry to disappoint. I’m not a siren, at least not a practicing one. So, you can just turn that accusing finger right back around. I did nothing. This is all your crazy shifter magic. If anyone did a love spell, it was you.”

  She’s right. “So we’re back to you being mine because of fate.”

  She frowns. “It’s not real.”

  Reaching out to her, I run my fingertips up her arm. “Is it really such a terrible thing? Most people never find a partner they can trust will never betray them.”

  To my surprise, tears swim in her eyes when she looks up at me. “Knowing you’ll be devoted to me until death is the worst thing I could have gotten from you.”

  Hurt settles in my chest, a cold burn that spreads through me. “It will be the best thing. You and me, the bond between us, will be more than you could ever imagine.”

  I can’t let her see beyond my statement. She’ll come to me or she won’t. Either way, I’ll protect her until my last breath. Turning, I move to walk toward the house.

  “It would be terrible…” Her soft voice stops me, but I refuse to look at her again.

  “I’m not a dolt, lass. I understand.”

  Her small hand rests on my shoulder, turning me to her once more. “It would be terrible because I’ll be dead in less than a year.”

  My gut clenches at the thought. “No, that’s not true. How can you know that?”

  “Trust me. I know.”

  Hands sliding over her shoulders until I cup her face, I search her expression for some reason this would be possible. “How? You aren’t ill, are you?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Dammit, witch. Tell me now, and tell me true.”

  Taking my hands from her face, she tugs gently as she walks toward the bench near the rose garden. “Sit. This might take a while.”

  Nodding, I settle down beside her and wait.

  “How should I begin this?” she asks herself. “I’ve never told my story to anyone.”

  “Tell me. I need to understand.”

  “It begins thousands of years ago. What do you know of the fallen?”

  My back stiffens. “The angels? They’re all demons now. Servants of Lucifer.”

  With a shake of her head, she sighs. “Not all. Before the fall, my sister witches and I helped an archangel. We gave him a spell. A way to hide from his brothers. Sariel fell from heaven because he found his love. She was a human woman. Forbidden.”

  “Before the fall? That was…”

  “As I said, thousands of years ago.”

  “How are you still alive? Witches aren’t immortals.”

  “I’m getting to that,” she says. A winsome smile turns up her lips. “We did our part, he gave us a gift, but we ended up cursed. Our coven leader was angry that we interfered in the forces of Heaven.” Heaving a shuddering breath, she tangles her fingers together tight enough to make the knuckles white. “She cursed us to be reborn, over and over with the inability to live beyond the age we were when we died for the first time.”

  “And how old were you—“

  “The Great Flood came when we were each twenty-seven. I’m twenty-six.”

  My chest is so tight I worry I might be having a heart attack. This is much more information than I anticipated.

  “I’ve lived many lives. And unless we kill our coven leader, I’ll be forced to live many more. It’s a guarantee I’ll be dead sooner rather than later.”

  The hell it is. She’s not dying on my watch. We’ll kill her coven leader together as soon as possible. “It’s not a guarantee. You’re mine and I’ll not have some craggy old witch take you from me.”

  There’s worry in her eyes, but I see a spark of hope in their depths as well. “You are a stubborn beast.”

  “Aye. Stubborn and determined. A deadly combination.”

  She sighs again, but this time she takes my hand and rises. “Come on, then. Let’s get inside.”

  I think she expects me to offer her some sort of innuendo, or even try to get into her knickers, but now’s not the time. All I can do is nod and follow, knowing this ethereal beauty has my heart in her very powerful hands whether she wants it or not.

  Izzy

  Grant’s large palm is warm in mine. His thumb runs a trail over my wrist as we walk through the door and into the living room. Each pass of his skin over mine makes tingles spread along my arm. I couldn’t ignore the man, not after the pain that flashed across his features at my rejection. Especially since my heart wants nothing more than to let him in. My head is another matter.

  “So, mo leannan, are you going to tell me your name?” His voice is a caress against the nape of my neck.

  I stiffen. Names are hard. They’re special and sacred. It’s why I’ve always changed mine back after my memories returned. Isolt is the name my mother gave me. It’s the name I should always bear.

  “Come on. I can’t keep calling you Beauty forever,” he presses.

  Settling on the couch, I wait for him to join me, but he just stands over me, his long, broad body looming.

  “You can call me Izzy.”

  He cocks that pierced eyebrow and gives me a dubious look. “Short for?”

  Sighing, I toy with my hair as I convince myself to tell him. “Isolt.”

  Both brows raise in surprise. “That’s not one I’ve heard often used. Is it like from the story?”

  Anxiety fills my chest, singing through my body. “Which story?” I don’t want to talk about this.

  “Tristan and Isolt. The legend. The Irish princess, the knight, you know.”

  Flicking my gaze at the empty fireplace, I bite my lower lip, considering my options. Truth, or lie? My heart chooses truth. “It’s not a story.”

  “You? No. You’re Isolt?”

  “The true story is…different from the versions made popular in books and movies.”

  The couch dips as he sits next to me. “I’m listening.”

  “Tristan was…handsome.” His shoulders tense, jealousy rearing its head already. “This isn’t going to work if you are already angry.”

  Bowing his head, he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Instinct. You’re mine, Izzy. Any mention of you being with an
other man is going to get to me.”

  “Okay, so I’ll give the abbreviated version. We aren’t born with memories of our past lives. Those come rushing back around age eighteen or so. I hadn’t seen my coven sisters in hundreds of years, despite searching. I found Tristan in much the same way as the legend tells it. I’d been betrothed at a young age and was sent off to be wed. I didn’t want to marry my future husband, after all, I’d never met the man. On the ship, I was accompanied by Tristan. He had been sent to escort me from my home as my protector. Seeing my nerves had gotten the better of me, he poured us each a goblet of wine. What we didn’t know was my maid had betrayed me. I’m sure now she was Calista in disguise. She filled the wine with a powerful love potion.”

  “And you drank?”

  Nodding, I twine my fingers together before continuing. “It was instant and devastating. He became obsessed, and I was a fool who fancied herself in love with the beautiful knight.”

  “And were you?” The break in his voice makes my chest ache. “In love with him?”

  Shaking my head, I heave a sigh and turn to face him. “I was. And that’s why I can’t trust this thing between us. Your mating bond is the same as a love potion. It’s not real. But can still break our hearts.”

  His gaze softens as he stares into my eyes. “I need you to understand, being mated to me doesn’t mean you have to love me. But now that we’re connected, I’ll never leave, I’ll die with you, I’ll fight for you, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive, curse or no curse.”

  I shoot to my feet, unable to stand his pity, his misplaced devotion. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to die because of me. I should go. Helena and Gwen can help me figure out a spell to break our bond.”

  Strong hands wrap around my wrists, pulling gently until I sit next to him again. “It is done, Isolt. You and I are joined and there is nothing that will break that. No magic can interfere with a mate bond. It’s time to accept it and the truth of our situation. You can’t rid yourself of me.”

  Deep in my mind I know he’s right. Mated shifter pairs are never separated, not even by death. They go together. But I’m no shifter—and we’ll never be fully bonded.

  “I’m not one of your pack, Grant. I’m a witch. We’re practically a different species.”

  His gaze turns heated as he leans in and runs his hand over my chest until his palm rests over my heart. Then he takes mine and places it over his. “Our hearts are beating together. Our bodies beg to be joined. Our souls are only at ease when we’re near each other.”

  Homing in on the thrum of my pulse and the feel of his heartbeat, I feel it too. Twined souls. “I can’t give you even a fraction of the time you deserve,” I say.

  “You can give me everything you have. That’s all I ask. We can have a life, a family.”

  “We can’t have children. Even if we break the curse. We’re not compatible that way.”

  His brow furrows. “How do you know that? You could already be carrying my bairn.”

  That makes me laugh a little nervously. “No. Not possible. Witch—shifter. We don’t blend,” I say pointing to myself and then him.

  “Just because it’s never happened, that doesn’t mean it won’t.”

  The thought of having a baby with this man makes me equal parts terrified and aroused. It must be the wretched pheromones at work again. He slides a little closer to me, his lips descending to mine before I can stop him. The moment our bodies connect, I forget about the reasons we can’t be together and focus on the reasons we should.

  “I don’t want that. I don’t want you for more than sex. We can have a good time, screw our brains out, and when this is over, we’ll both move on.”

  “It’ll be damn fun trying to prove you wrong, lovely Isolt.” His husky voice sends need racing through my body. “I’m going to spend every night of our time together trying to do just that.”

  He’s right. It’ll be fun. Impossible, but fun.

  Grant

  Isolt offers the barest hint of a smile at my words, but it fills me with immense pride. I don’t care if we can’t have a family. All I need is her. Her scent, her body, her presence. I may never earn her heart, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s here. As I lie her back on the couch, her beautiful eyes never leave mine. They sparkle with unshed tears. For all her sass and defiance, she’s vulnerable. Dropping my head, I trail soft kisses from the valley between her breasts up to her neck, stopping to nip and suck as her breathing changes from sighs to pants. Her hands slide over my back and up until her fingers tangle in my hair. Fuck, she’s everything I didn’t know I’d been missing.

  I fit my hips between her legs, praying for some friction against my straining erection. Even a little movement might offer some relief. Her little moans tell me she wants this just as much as I do.

  “Isolt, my beauty, let me take you again. It’s doing us no good to deny ourselves.”

  “Call me Izzy, please? The last man who called me Isolt died of a broken heart.”

  “You’re mine, Izzy, no matter your name.”

  Her lips connect with mine again and she breathes my name on a sigh as she kisses me. That’s a yes, even without the word. Grinding my length against her center, I groan at the sensation. My hand snakes under her top, finding a bare breast under the thin fabric, her nipple a hard little bullet.

  The air around us changes, the pressure making my ears pop. Is she doing a spell? Why now?

  A masculine cough sounds from behind us, making me jerk to a defensive position. A tall man with blond hair and a face which could be chiseled from stone is standing not five feet from us, an open paperback novel in his hand.

  “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look at me. “I’ll let you finish. Just let me know when you’re done.”

  “Gabriel,” Izzy cries.

  My focus snaps back to her as she scoots out from under me and rights her clothes. “You know this guy?” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice.

  “We’ve…spoken a few times.”

  “And why the fuck is he here?”

  Gabriel chuckles and tucks the novel into his back pocket. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gabriel, messenger of God.”

  My jaw drops as I take in his words. “You’re mad. The messenger of God wouldn’t bother coming to me.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Ye of little faith,” he mutters. But then the lights dim and bright white wings tipped in gold extend behind him, their light nearly blinding me.

  “Holy mother of God.”

  “Yes, yes, can we move on now?” His tone betrays his annoyance.

  “Why are you here, Gabriel?” Izzy asks.

  “I’m here because of you two.”

  She stands and cocks one hand on her hip. “Like to watch?”

  A look of distaste flashes over the angel. “No, thank you. It’s all well and good you’ve found each other, but you need to be with Helena and Gwen in order for your strength to fully return.”

  The thought of her leaving me makes my stomach turn. “She’s not going anywhere without me, Feathers.”

  Gabriel clenches his jaw. “The last being to call me that ended up as Lucifer’s plaything until his woman intervened.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Gabriel. You had nothing to do with that.” Izzy’s amused tone is curious and I wonder how much they’ve been through together.

  Standing a little taller, he raises his chin in a defiant gesture. “She can stay with you, but the others must be with her. There is much more coming before the end of this life, witch. You and your sisters are going to be needed.”

  She shakes her head. “What? Gwen hasn’t seen any of this.”

  “The seer’s powers are limited to what will be in all certainty. The outcome of this fight isn’t predestined. All I can safely say is that you’ll be part of it.” He trains his piercing gaze on me. “You and your
mate.”

  “Can’t you just…angel magic them here?” she asks, waving her hands erratically.

  “And expend some of my valuable energy for something that you can take care of just as easily?”

  “Fine, I’ll bring them here. Is there anything else you need, Gabriel? We were in the middle of something.” Izzy slides her hand across my ass and into my back pocket. Holy fuck, this woman.

  Shaking his head, he mutters, “Lust. I’ll never understand it.”

  “Goodbye, Gabriel. “ Izzy’s hand grips my arse hard as the angel disappears before my eyes.

  “Did that just fucking happen?” I ask, staring at the empty space where he’d just been standing.

  “It did. There’s a big part of me that hates that angel.”

  “Why? I thought the angels were the good guys.”

  “They’re good. That doesn’t mean they’re not arseholes.”

  At the moment, my cock rapidly rising and my need for her building from a flickering flame to a blaze, I’m desperate to change the subject. I don’t want to call her sisters. I don’t want anyone else in my house. All I want is to strip her bare and have her on every surface of my home.

  “Where were we?” I murmur against her hair.

  That wicked hand of hers slides out of my pocket and down the front of my jeans. In the space between my breaths, she has my length encircled by her fingers and is sliding up and down. “We weren’t nearly close enough to the orgasm I wanted you to give me.”

  Laughing, I cradle the back of her head and pull her closer. “I’m going to make you come all fucking day.”

  “Promise?” she whispers.

  “Aye.”

  Scooping her into my arms, I kiss her hard as I hold onto her for dear life. As I walk us toward the stairs, she breaks the connection between our lips.

  “Grant?”

  “Yes, Beauty.”

  “Don’t fall in love with me.”

  “That’s not a promise I can make.”