by Aneesa Price
Ida traipsed past her while she stood on the porch, looking down at Conall. The impish witch leaned over and not bothering to whisper, teased Anais, “Crotch is called gobhal in Gaelic. And many a women have swooned over his at home too. You might want to give it a try.”
Embarrassed, a turkey-red Anais a retort slipped out, “Stop reading my mind.” She then blushed harder when she realised that she’d said it out loud and in front of Conall.
Ida laughed, enjoying Anais’s tell-tale signs of interest in her brother. “I didn’t have to read your mind, Anais. You’re broadcasting your lust as surely as he is. My brother is being uncharacteristically slow about this, so you should do something about it.” At her brother’s scowl, Ida quickly retreated before he could retaliate and joined her other two sisters on their way to the big house. They would hit the kitchen as soon as they could; magick seemed to make them ravenous.
“Sisters! They are wonderful at times but mostly serve to irritate me. Just ignore her, Anais. She’s teasing us.” Conall came up to the top step and pulled Anais down next to him.
Still tired from the magickal torture she’d just been through and embarrassed by Ida’s teasing, she caved and sat beside him. It was as comforting as it had been the previous evening when he’d sat and listened to her rag on about the unbinding spells, potions and the other magickal activities his sisters had thrown her way.
He whisked out a bottle of bourbon and poured her a glass. “I figured you’d be having a need for this.”
“Merci, it’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate what they’re doing, but your sisters are hard task-masters.” Anais tipped her head, raking her gaze over him. He was sending off masculinity in waves. Swallowing a mouthful of the bourbon, she watched him sip at the whiskey, or Irish as he called it. He was fond enough of the drink that his sisters had brought him a few bottles from his homeland.
“They are,” he acknowledged, “I should know, I trained with them as a child. But despite their ‘tough-love’ approach, they really do care. More than most.”
As do you, Anais noted. He had gone from cautious enemy to trusted friend in a few short days. He didn’t spin words to gain her trust, he showed her through his actions. Like sitting with her on a summer’s night, the sounds of the bayou around them, listening to her complain about her current situation like an ungrateful brat.
Maybe she was just tired and needing the comfort of physical touch or maybe she was sick of battling the urge to jump his bones every time she saw him lately or maybe it was the kindness and friendship he had started offering her despite his evident desire to take things further that tugged at her. The tugging finally gave way to courage and Anais felt that it was time to unbind their sexually stuck situation.
She moved slowly, without standing, sliding over the steps and turned until she was facing him, her body barely an inch from his. His desire flared just as hers did. Breathing in the musky scent, she looked at him; not bothering to hide the lust, reflecting red in her eyes – he had said that red was becoming his favorite color, she recollected.
Conall gulped down the whiskey, feeling the fire burn a path down his throat and another burn a path to his groin. This was an invitation that was long overdue and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He’d been panting after her like a dog in heat since that kiss by the river. Despite the air of fragility she carried with her lately, she was as desirable as she’d been when he’d first laid eyes on her. Even more so, he thought, as she showed immense strength in her efforts to undo the magickal binding that plagued her. He’d seen a few witches go through it in his time and all of them had been more irritable, more grumpy and a hell of a lot harder to be around. He’d expected her to snap hours ago but she’d remained steadfast. It only made him want her more.
Anais leaned into Conall and gently brushed her lips over his. The sensation of first contact let out an involuntary groan. Taking full advantage, Conall pulled her closer, devouring her mouth as though it was his last meal. He relished every taste, lick and sensation as the scent of her desire rose and assaulted him. It smelled like jasmine and sex.
Her breasts were crushed against his chest, the thin cotton of her dress inadequate to prevent the heat of those luscious curves from burning into his chest. Hungrily, Anais sat on his lap and to his delight, returned his passion, their tongues dancing an age-old battle of want as they fell into the embrace. Arms held, hands felt. Soft and hard. Hair, skin, the feel of his cleanly shaved jaw, the smoothness of her cheek, contrasted, was felt and nibbled. The evidence of his desire grew as Anais straddled him and they began to grind going deeper into the kiss.
His hands found her soft, rounded bottom and began to knead, to tease, alternating between rubs and feather-light caresses. The suddenness of her seduction was bringing him to a point. Panting, he pulled away and looked at her. She had the slightly mussed look of a satisfied woman. Her cheeks were flushed with wanting; her breasts rose up and down as she struggled to gain her own breath back, making him want to fill his hands with them. He was too close to the edge. He didn’t want her quick and fast; not for their first time.
Chuckling, he leaned in and kissed her gently, slowing her down with soft caresses as she pushed to dive into the kiss again. “Anais, I don’t want to rush this. I’ve been carrying around an ache for you for too long to make this quick. As good as quick will undoubtedly be between us, I want to savor this moment. I want to peel that dress off you and watch the moonlight move over your body before I cover it with mine. And I don’t want to do it here on the steps where the others can spy us.”
Anais grinned and nodded in agreement. “You’re right. We have too many people that care about us and who will use that as an excuse to first snoop and then rag at us for days.” Moving back, she looked at him. No, the spell hadn’t broken. The hunger that kiss had awoken was still there. “I’m going to exercise a lady’s privilege and choose your room - it’s closer.”
As idiotic as he knew it was, he couldn’t help but preen. “I can do one better.” He gently pulled her up and into the room she’d just left. Using magick, he’d teleported his bed and bedding from his accommodation at the plantation into the room. It stood in the middle of the room surrounded by candles.
Lips curved in appreciation, she let a delighted laugh slip out. “Did I tell you that I’m grateful for your talents?” Her eyes were teasing him, filled with eagerness.
“No, but you can show me.” He watched her eyes widen as he used magick to remove her clothing.
“I thought you wanted to peel my clothes off me. I was quite looking forward to that.” Anais pouted in mock disappointment.
“I’m looking at your appreciation,” he retorted, grinning at the sight of her – beautiful and bathed in moonlight just as he’d wanted to see her. He raked a slow, appreciative gaze over her body, loving the way her nipples hardened at the touch of his eyes. This witch was binding him. Fixated, Conall croaked out the first word that came to mind, “Áillidh”. He explained when her brow lifted stopping her, “It’s Gaelic. It means beautiful.”
The sincere wonder in his tone didn’t suit the noncommittal passion she wanted, “Are words all you’ve got for me lover?”
That was all the invitation Conall required to teleport them both to the bed. Reining in the passion that tugged impatiently, he breathed her in, loving the smell of jasmine infused with need. He took his time with her, alternating hot, heavy gazes he made sure she felt on her skin with soothing kisses from the top of her head to her delectable toes.
Anais found satisfaction in the heat etched on his face, knowing she was responsible for every gorgeous inch of it - it looked good there - real good and she wanted to see more of it and of him. “I have some talents of my own,” she sat up kneeling in front of him on the bed and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear, purposefully flicking her tongue over the sensitive area as she spoke, “here, let me show you”. The sound of ripping clothing filled the room as she used her vampire spee
d and strength to get him as naked as she was. Laughing, she easily flipped him onto his back and proceeded to inspect every inch of him with eyes and mouth. Nibbling and licking, she subjected him to same sweet torturous ecstasy he’d administered to her moments ago.
Conall had had enough. His arousal was throbbing, yearning to get inside her. He wanted little more than to get inside of her and empty his seed into her. If she kept this up, he’d miss the opportunity to do so. “If you don’t stop that, we’ll both be sorry.” He flicked his gaze downwards and ground his teeth when she deliberately gave his straining arousal one swift lick from hilt to head.
Teeth clenched, Conall bit out, “That’s it, you’ll be sorry now.” He flipped her over, continuing the match of sexual wrestling and returned the favor when his tongue found the sensitive bud between her thighs. He grinned through the act, loving every cry as she came, thrashing wildly around the bed while he weighed her hips down with his arms so he could continue his assault on her senses.
Anais had had enough. She felt so completely spent she didn’t know how she was going to carry on. Breathing deeply she threw insults at him as a desperate attempt to make him stop. He ignored her, continuing to make her come. For the first time in her long life, she had a clue why orgasms were referred to by some as ‘little deaths’. Insults weren’t working in making him stop so she reverted to begging, “Inside Conall. I need you inside. I can’t take any more of this.”
In one quick move, he drove himself inside of her and smiled through his own moan of pleasure as her cries met his in a strange chorus of sexual need unleashed. All coherence left them as they touched, tasted and moved over and under the pleasure that pulled at them, danced with them. With each move, their ecstasy heightened, melding them into one until all that remained was the most pleasure they’d ever felt. Their magick fused as they reached the peak, unbelievably increasing their already heightened pleasure. Crying out in joint release, they allowed themselves to fall blindly into it - a depth of adulterated bliss.
Pulling in oxygen, Conall maneuvered them so they lay side by side on the bed. His lips curved in satisfaction; Anais was as limp with exhaustion from their lovemaking as he was. Conall broke the post-coital ice first, “This isn’t a line…I’ve never had sex like that before.”
Anais interrupted him, “You complaining about my talents?” He was about to get serious and she didn’t want it marring the earth-shattering experience they’d just had.
Sprawled next to her he looked at her as if she were mad, “Goddess, no! That was undoubtedly the best sex I’ve ever had in seven centuries of living!” She swatted his hand away inelegantly as he teased her with light caresses. Light was all he could manage for now. His hormones wanted her again but he needed a moment for his body to catch up after the work-out they’d just been through.
“Seven centuries, huh? You’ve had lots of practice. I guess I didn’t do too bad with only nearly two of them.”
Conall grinned and dropped one on her kiss-swollen lips, “Stop fishing for compliments. You are indeed talented as you put it.”
“I’ll take that flattery, seeing as seven centuries have given you a lot to compare me to.”
“Goddess!” Conall raked his hands through his hair, give the woman a sexual step up and she had the upper-hand. He was fast losing control of the situation. They’d been equals in their love-making and now he was feeling like the proverbial dog in the kennel while she looked like a teacher catching a delinquent student in the act. “Now’s not the time to go into that.”
“I was joking before. I’m curious, I admit, what woman wouldn’t be if she’d just experienced mind-blowing sex with a supernatural prince! But your discomfort is making me think that you have something to hide. Tell me Conall, do you have a harem of wannabe princesses waiting at home for you?” Anais’ tone dripped with venom, “Or do you have just one at home? One there and one here; the one here being me? Get yourself a woman on each side of the ocean? Is that something I must worry about because I warn you,” eyes flashing, she turned towards him and poked him again, like she had a few nights ago in the Quarter, vampire hard with every word, “I don’t fall into bed with someone lightly. This was too good not to do again and I won’t and don’t share.”
Shaking his head at her, he backed away. What the hell was happening to her? She was all sweet, funny and extraordinarily passionate one moment and now he sat in bed with a viperish, psychotic vamp. It was like she’d been suddenly possessed. Either that or she was tapping into her own Mr Hyde.
Before Conall could attempt to defend his integrity, he watched in terror as Anais’ eyes rolled back into her head, like a slow motion scene out of a horror movie. A shrill scream of the most indescribable torture ripped itself from her throat as she landed on the sheets and began shaking uncontrollably. Screams flowed from her lips, so loud and raw with pain that he felt her agony sear him. Her hands were curled up in stiff fists of pain, her legs were thrashing, tearing the sheets with every jerk until he was sitting in what looked like confetti. He watched her, frozen in alarm, while the writhing sent the bits of sheet flying around them – Agony in White Hell.
Springing into action, he called her name to bring her back to him. Nothing. He invoked the Goddess who remained uncommonly silent to him. No change. He said a spell to calm her. Still nothing. He wracked his brain for something else to do, tried to will some of his magick into her only to watch it ricochet off her like a bullet piercing his soul. He watched the first woman to snare his heart in centuries of existence battle an unseen demon for her life. Tears of fear welled up in his eyes as they flashed with panic and helplessness. The bond they’d just shared during sex was fragmented, shattered by whatever was eating at her on the inside. He was certain the weird argument before she fell had been the prelude. He cursed himself – he should’ve picked up on that.
He wouldn’t quit, couldn’t quit, there had to be something he could do. He tried again, choking with fear for her. She didn’t respond to him, no spell, no magick seemed capable of making a difference, of lessening her agony. She was a witch too, damn it! He should be able to link with her. He was the fucking prince of witches; he should be able to do something. Fight the dark magick eating at her with his good magick! He grabbed her, shaking her, calling her name over and over, going mad with the lack of change in her condition. Goddess help them both. Conall abruptly moved away. Help. He needed help. He needed to get her help. Fast. She couldn’t go on like this. No being would outlast this and he couldn’t afford to have her not survive. Not now. Not when he’d waited centuries, not when she didn’t yet know what they had between them. He needed help, so he ran, conjuring clothes as he moved towards the big house to call his sisters, praying that she’d last long enough for him to get back to her.
Chapter 13
Raulf walked through the gardens from the big house towards the section of the plantation where the original slave quarters still sat next to fields that had born thousands of sugar cane in another life time. Raulf had grown up on the plantation, as had his family, so he knew the land as well, if not better, than its colonial masters had. Now, an alpha with his own pack of wolves to manage, he no longer lived here but roots were hard to deny and so he continued to visit those he viewed as family. Since the arrival of the male witches, he’d been neglecting his pack duties and had been visiting more often than not. The pack wasn’t too happy about it but they understood the bonds of family better than any other species and the women in his family certainly needed him to watch out for them at the moment. He didn’t trust the witches or the contingency of vampires that had recently invaded New Orleans.
He grimaced at his new role as watchdog. It wasn’t that he resented playing baby-sitter to the vampiresses. It was that Anais treated him like a child even though they both knew that their relationship had progressed past the stage of childish fantasies. So now, he made his way to the damn witch cabin. The sisters had come back to the mansion and even their news tha
t Anais was on her way home and that Conall was with her did not placate Miss Suzette. His aunt had had a bad feeling gnawing at her since dinner and she would not rest until all her chicks were safely home. Anais was the only one missing and he’d been tasked with finding her and bringing her home. So, he guessed, if he was being crass about it, he was a glorified baby-sitter. Frustration picked at him, making him surly, despite the stab of guilt that pricked at his conscious. He loved her and he needed to make sure she was okay. Yet a part of him rebelled against the reluctantly accepted task he set forth on. Didn’t she say that she was a vampire and able to take care of herself?
As Raulf was contemplating his bruised heart and ego, a flash passed him by. His alpha sensed panic and turned to follow. Catching up to the running man, he ascertained that it was Conall. “What’s going on? Where’s Anais?”
Conall didn’t have time to stop and answer the wolf’s questions. Dragging in air as he ran, he shouted out, voice clipped in hurry, “Anais.”. He took a breath. “In the slave quarters.” Another breath. “I’m going to get help.” He scoped his immediate vicinity out for any objects he might run into to; at the speed he was moving, the knock would be hard and would delay his return to Anais. Daring a look at Raulf, he ordered, panic overwhelming every feature visible in the night’s light, “Go to her. Stay there.”
Raulf didn’t think. He curved around a big pecan tree and sprinted. The panic felt by the witch had infected him and called out his wolf. Rushing, he was barely conscious of the transformation. Clothes ripped and fell away as he propelled forward towards the slave quarters; first on two legs then on four. His senses sharpened. Eye sight, made for the woods and swamp of the bayou allowed him to gracefully and swiftly maneuver the terrain as he sped to the slave quarters. His sense of smell, heightened to that of a wolf, capable of smelling prey from miles away, picked up the horrifying stench of Anais’ panic. His enhanced hearing heard her scream, throat hoarse from the sheer force of the cries being snatched from deep within. It pushed him harder, made him move as he’d never had before. He found himself bursting through the doors of the slave cabin in a flash of time.
