Strange Brew

by Angela Colsin

  Marking her would be a good start.

  Troy ignored that natural instinct in favor of showing Aislinn, starting by praising her with a lowly growled, “Fantasy doesn't hold a candle to you, baby. You're so damned beautiful … so soft. Afraid I'll hurt you.”

  He was desperate to keep his pace even instead of pounding away between her legs, and not simply because he might hurt her—he also didn't want this first time to end for anything, not even his own climax. It was like a dream, one he feared he'd wake from only to find himself back in the Northern Territories, still facing the end of his life without Aislinn to center him.

  Sitting back, he gathered her up so that her smaller body was straddling his lap, and wound his arms tightly around her as if to prevent her from disappearing. With more freedom, she began moving her hips over his, rotating them with an urgency he matched—and gods, did she know how to move.

  It was too much, and Troy could no longer reign his urges in, plunging harder inside her with a low growl against her throat.

  “Troy! I'm about to … I'm so … !”

  She was right back on the edge, and his own violent release was threatening to erupt. Desperate to come at the same time, he pressed a hand between her thighs to find her clitoris, strumming the sensitive button to bring her over the edge with him, just as he felt the first spurt of his seed inside her body.

  Throwing his head back with a loud growl of pleasure, he heard Aislinn's cry and felt her wetness gush over his cock, her muscles milking it so hard that he thought he'd come twice in a row. Sweat slicked their skin with the nearby firelight flickering across their bodies as they thrashed together in a violent climax, proving it was no dream.

  No, it was better than anything he could've ever imagined.

  Chapter 16

  Aislinn hadn't doubted that she and Troy would get along in the sheets. She simply hadn't been prepared for how well.

  It came to pass that there was another reason asking for his assistance in this ritual was a bad idea—he was ruining her for other men entirely. Instead of bumbling through some process of trial and error that seemed to go hand in hand with first times, their bodies moved as if old acquaintances, and damned if he didn't seem to know exactly how she liked to be touched and where.

  It brought her to a climax faster than she could remember reaching one. Aislinn teetered at the edge, panting and clutching him desperately when she felt his thumb press into her sensitive clit to stroke all over while driving deep inside her body, and she couldn't hold on.

  Exploding with a loud cry over the indescribable pleasure, her orgasm left her incapable of doing anything but clutching Troy and instinctively gyrating her hips over him until he tightened his hold and grunted with a final, hard thrust.

  “Troy!” she cried, able to feel his hot seed erupting inside her, a sensation that only intensified her pleasure. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her hips squirming in his grasp until those waves of bliss finally began to fade.

  In their place, she could sense an infusion of energy, one adding clarity to her perception, focus, and a full awareness of the magic surrounding them both. It was a clear sign that the Rite of Romedra had been successful, offering exactly what she'd hoped to achieve.

  But Aislinn was too stunned at herself to consider it—the infusion may have been a clear sign of the rite's success, but it had also seemed strange at first.

  In her euphoria, she had absolutely no idea why she was sensing such a thing, and the ritual was so far removed from her mind that it took an actual effort to recall what was going on. That lapse in memory proved just how wrong she'd been to tell Troy she couldn't promise more than a fling that night—this encounter held much more meaning for her.

  Yet now, the rite was complete, and there was no reason for them to continue their pleasurable interlude. It's over.

  The fact that the ritual would be done with one round had never occurred to her. Aislinn's mind was so centered on simply completing it that she'd ignored the smaller nuances, and was suddenly disappointed. She didn't want this to be over, she wanted more, especially after the last week of denying herself in Troy's presence.

  But it would be hypocritical to say so when she'd claimed this was a no strings attached affair—and the mere concept seemed completely absurd now.

  Ritual or not, she wanted Troy Ashland, she just hadn't known how much.

  Lifting her head, her gaze caught Troy's, and the heat in his brown eyes was enough to make her heart flutter. But it was also pointed, as if he'd had the exact same thoughts, and wasn't yet ready to end this.

  His persisting erection still buried inside her was further proof of his desire.

  With her lips a breath away from his, she whispered, “Troy, I … ,” then trailed as his hips shifted, driving himself deeper between her thighs—and he didn't stop.

  Aislinn's hips started rocking, the werewolf's muscular body moving in such a provocative rhythm that she damned near forgot what she'd been thinking altogether.

  “Say it, baby,” he murmured knowingly, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. “Once wasn't enough.”

  “I didn't wanna … sound hypocritical … ,” she rasped, “but goddess, it's not.”

  At her confession, Troy seized her mouth in a sudden, fierce kiss, only breaking the contact long enough to moan, “Feels so right.”

  She couldn't ignore that it definitely did, touching and kissing him wherever she could reach. Troy saw her as his mate, each slow push between her legs driving the notion further home—but it didn't matter. He was her familiar in turn, and there was a connection between them she both wanted, and needed to explore further, consequences be damned. Never felt this way before.

  “Yes,” she rasped, trying to push him onto his back. “Let me ride you as hard as I can.”

  A fervent growl rumbled from his throat, showing his interest, but instead of giving in, he quickly turned her instead. She gasped, her head hitting the soft pillows, and looked up just as Troy lifted her legs by the backs of her knees and leaned forward, pushing them toward her shoulders.

  Her hips raised higher as a result, and he growled, “Later. First, I'm gonna celebrate your birthday by learning everything you like, and using it against you until you're screaming.”

  Leaning against her elbows, she pinned his gaze, asking on a sultry tone, “Are you gonna do it hard? Because that's how I want it—hard and wild.”

  There was a predatory glint in Troy's eyes as he let a low growl, one that stole her breath. Have I bitten off more than I can chew? She had to wonder, but damned if she didn't want to try, her heart skipping when he grasped the back of her neck and held her gaze.

  “Really?”

  She almost got out an answer, but his hips suddenly started hammering, sending his thick cock in and out of her tight walls so hard she could hear a lewd slap between her legs.

  “Troy!”

  “You like that?” he growled.

  “Fuck yes!” she cried, able to see where their bodies were joined, and her eyes locked on the erotic sight, taking him so deep she didn't think they'd ever separate again. Pleasure consumed her in waves so strong that she couldn't hold herself up any longer, laying back fully on the pallet before crying his name.

  But a spike of disquiet stabbed into her when she looked up and noticed his eyes. As if the fire from the pit had leaped into them, they were now glowing orange.

  Is he losing it? Warily, Aislinn reached up to cup Troy's cheeks in her hands, yet he suddenly grasped her wrists, securing them in one hand to pin above her head—and never lost his frantic pace.

  She didn't think it was possible, but her excitement hit a new peak, and Aislinn became lost in the moment. Pinned, her hips bounced hard beneath the virile werewolf remorselessly pounding her tight quim, each plunge sending unrelenting pleasure through her entire body, and his eyes were nearly forgotten—until he groaned the words, “Need you so fucking bad.”

  In the process, Troy revealed fo
ur sharpened fangs that Aislinn couldn't simply ignore, particularly in being helplessly trapped beneath him.

  What if he lost it and tried to mark her?

  “Troy,” she whimpered, “you're … turning!”

  Hearing the desperation in her voice, he growled, “No,” and slowed his pace, proving he wasn't completely out of control. With a deep, shuddered breath, he added, “Just trust me, baby. I'd never hurt you.”

  She held his glowing gaze, and found herself slowly nodding. Somehow, she did trust him. He may have been on the cusp of his ferine state, but what witch's familiar would ever hurt them?

  Troy stayed true to his word, and never got close to her neck—he merely fucked her harder than she'd ever had it, and Aislinn couldn't get enough. Every movement they made together brought more pleasure than the last, and it wasn't long before she dazedly watched as his head fell back with a roar of pleasure, his seed erupting inside her in a hot rush.

  She came along with him, waves of pure bliss rolling through her body, overwhelming her to the point that she screamed loudly enough to think she could've woken the nearby city.

  It was the best birthday celebration Aislinn ever had.

  ~*~*~*~

  The scent of smoke hung heavy in the air beneath a silver sky. The temperature had taken a nose dive to nearly rival that of the frigid north, but Troy had never been warmer.

  Slowly rousing from a restful slumber, he could feel Aislinn cuddled against his side where they lay cocooned together in a thick blanket. When she nuzzled her cheek against his chest, he contentedly thread his fingers through her red locks and tightened his grip, thinking over the events of the previous night—specifically Aislinn's desire for him even after the ritual was completed.

  It was questionable whether she just needed the satisfaction, or actually put more stock into their affair, but he wasn't complaining. The memory of her uninhibited responses alone stirred his blood to a fevered pitch.

  Just as he'd predicted, last night was—so far—the best of his life.

  But for as much as he wanted Aislinn, the calm of her presence was even more addicting, making the knowledge that he'd likely have to leave her again soon extremely grating. After their two day separation, Troy had gone right back to being impulsive and unstable, snapping at the slightest issue as if he'd never found his mate to begin with.

  Why couldn't he have found her sooner, before he'd started to turn? At least then, a prolonged separation wouldn't mean returning to the hell he'd faced over the last decade.

  But he had hope for an enduring relationship now, and if that meant dealing with his beast's ferocity for a little longer, it was worth the effort.

  During his thoughts, Aislinn shivered at his side, reminding him that she was mortal and susceptible to becoming ill in adverse conditions. So it was probably a good idea to get her inside soon.

  Opening his eyes, he took her shoulder to nudge her awake, but stopped himself when she tilted her head up and smiled.

  “Good morning, or, afternoon anyway,” Aislinn started, then covered her mouth with a yawn. “I wasn't expecting to fall asleep out here.”

  “Did you at least sleep okay?”

  She nodded, seeming content to remain in her spot against him for the time being. “I'm just wondering if you're expecting me to compliment your performance last night.”

  “I'm always up for a compliment, but I think it goes without saying that last night was the best we've known.”

  “Actually,” she drew out, “that's an understatement, which really pisses me off. It was supposed to be a ritual, and I can't look at it as just that.”

  Troy couldn't stop the sense of pride—and relief—that overcame him in response to those words. He knew she was being cautious about their relationship, but hearing that she'd found their night to be more meaningful than what it was originally intended for was exactly what he needed.

  In fact, he wanted to hear her say it outright, asking, “Why is that? Because it interests you in something more between us?”

  Aislinn rolled her eyes. “Do you ever pretend to have a scoshe of humility?”

  “You wouldn't like me if I did. So admit it.”

  She eyed him curiously, and almost sat up, but the moment the blanket shifted away from her body, she immediately turned back to him and drew it more tightly around them, exclaiming, “Oh goddess, it's cold. Where's our clothes?”

  “Yours are by the altar. I'll get them.”

  Amusingly, she grabbed him when he tried to get up. “Don't, you're keeping me warm.”

  Troy grinned at her reaction, but as much as he enjoyed the way her body felt against his, the thought that she'd grow ill was a concern he couldn't ignore.

  So he directed, “Just keep the blanket around you and the sight of my naked ass will do the rest.”

  “Oh goddess,” Aislinn groaned, the sound making Troy chuckle as she let him go. Yet, despite her grumbling over his arrogance, she was unabashedly watching him while he brought her clothing back, then threw off the blanket without shame to hastily don the garments.

  It reminded him of how he'd believed her to be shy, which was apparently far from the truth, and just looking at her body had him ready to throw her back on the pallet for another round of last night's events.

  But he dressed himself instead, and once she'd done the same, Aislinn gathered her ritual supplies and decided to come back for the pillows and blankets later, then began heading through the trees and back to the house.

  On the way, Troy slipped an arm over her shoulder to keep her warm at his side, and the start of their walk was silent. But soon, her home came into view, and that's when he pointed out, “You still haven't admitted the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “That you know last night was just a taste of what we could have together.”

  Stepping into the backyard from the trees, Aislinn countered, “Don't forget, I was suffering from withdrawals, so last night could've been a fluke.”

  Despite the playfulness in her suggestion, Troy came to a stop, lowering his arm from her shoulder to her waist in order to pull her around for a slow kiss. The moment his mouth slanted over hers, she gasped, then let a soft moan.

  At the sound, he broke contact to murmur, “I guess we'll know soon enough.”

  Her expression was dazed, proving his closeness affected her as she whispered, “Troy, I do want more between us, but that means I need to be sure we don't make any mistakes. So I wanna go slow.”

  That was all he needed to hear, and a smile lifted his lips. “Then you're still gonna let me take you somewhere tonight?”

  With a sultry smirk, she answered, “I wouldn't have asked you to show me why we'd be good together if not.”

  He grinned, walking up the patio steps to the doors leading into the dining room of her family's home, and Aislinn turned the knob to open it. As soon as she did, a heavy aroma hit his nose without warning, and though it wasn't wholly offensive, it was almost thick enough to stifle.

  “What's that smell?” Troy asked, shutting the door after they stepped inside.

  “Sage, dragon's blood, and myrrh,” Aislinn responded, and when he turned around, he saw that the table sitting in the center of the dining room was covered with a black velvet cloth, and various items witches frequently used in their Craft were settled atop it. These included several lit, black candles standing around a cauldron at the center, and raven's feather's lined up in a strategic circle around it.

  Apparently, someone had been busy.

  “Mom?” Aislinn called into the house, placing her altar box and robe in the seat of a chair at the table. “Are you trying to banish someone?”

  “Rand's not here, Aislinn,” came a woman's voice from the next room. “She went out for some sea salt, and the answer to your question is yes and no.”

  Troy followed Aislinn through the door, finding himself in the kitchen where another redhead who was about Miranda's age stood at the counter. She wore a p
air of jeans and a black top that was dusted with flour, stirring the contents of a bowl with a whisk.

  Coming to a stop, he listened when Aislinn asked, “What do you mean yes and no?”

  She turned to face them with her answer. “We're not simply banishing, we're trying to fortify against malevolent energy.”

  Troy looked between them, ready to ask what she meant when the older witch smiled at him and said, “By the way, I'm Helen Carmichael, Aislinn's aunt. I'd shake your hand, but I need to wash them.”

  “Troy Ashland,” he replied, “and it's fine. What are you making?”

  “Waffle batter, care to stick around for some? We always have plenty.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, glancing at Aislinn to see that she didn't seem to mind—mostly because she was staring at her aunt with a foreboding look on her face.

  “Aislinn?”

  She didn't answer, but instead, made a vague statement in her aunt's direction. “He's coming back, and she's trying to banish him.”

  Troy had no idea who she was talking about, and Helen didn't offer any clues over the matter, pouring some of the batter into a waffle iron while suggested, “You should discuss it with Rand when she gets back, honey.”

  “Oh goddess,” Aislinn drew out, obviously distressed.

  Concerned, Troy took her shoulder in a gentle hold, asking, “Who's coming back?”

  Aislinn parted her lips to speak, but without warning, Miranda announced from the door leading into the living room, “That would be her father, Derick Rowden.”

  They both turned to face the witch as she carried a few plastic bags over to the counter, explaining along the way, “I had a premonition last night that he'd be coming into town again.”

  “When?” Aislinn asked. In the process, she'd removed Troy's hand from her shoulder, but only to grip it tightly, and he doubted she even realized what she was doing.

  He also didn't know much about her father or his abandonment, but it was easy to see that the idea of his return wasn't pleasant. So he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in the hopes of soothing her as they waited for Miranda's answer.