She kissed him back as if she did.
Her hands threaded into his hair. Her body strained against his, warm and naked and wanting. He moved his hands down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine, then filling his palms with the swell of her buttocks and squeezing and lifting.
Her mouth tasted of honey. Her tongue was moist silk, stroking his, tasting him, driving him mad. And then her hands were there between them, working his clothes free, tearing his shirt in her eagerness to rid him of it, yanking with fierce and frightening determination at the button and zipper of his jeans. And before he knew it, he was stepping out of them, kicking his shorts aside, feeling his shirt fall at his feet. Her hands explored now, and he relished every touch, every gentle pinch and tender raking of those nails.
She turned him, and he went. She pushed him and he fell, sitting now, sucking in a quick surprised gasp when his backside came to rest upon the chill of the granite slab. But her mouth still fed, and her hands still worked, and he couldn't notice the discomfort of the cold on his flesh for more than a moment. He felt her hands again, pressing his chest, and he lay down. The chill sent shivers up his back as her lips did likewise to his front.
Her hungry little mouth devoured his chest, bit by bit, small white teeth nipping, plump lips working, pointy tongue tormenting. She moved over him, straddled him, leaned down so that her breasts dangled just above his face, and he leaped at them, capturing one with his teeth and torturing her the way she'd done to him. Her hands were in his hair, holding him, soft pleading sounds coming from her throat. He gentled his mouth, sucking at her breast, feeling her relax, and then nipping her again, pinching her nipple gently between his teeth and hearing her moan in anguished pleasure. His hand moved into the warm wetness between her legs, to explore her there as his mouth applied the exquisite torture to her breast. His fingers parted, probed, hunted, and found. Invaded and stroked. And her hips arched to ask for more.
So he gave her more. Taking his hand away, he nestled his hips against hers, and slid himself inside her, as slowly and as reverently as he had lowered the athame into the cauldron. And as he did, she tipped her head back, closed her eyes, just as she’d done then, and the sigh that escaped her was one of pure ecstasy as she tilted her hips to slide lower over him. He wrapped his arms and legs around her, and rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. Her hands closed on his backside, drawing him closer, pulling him deeper inside her. And he knew he'd never felt anything as intense as this, and probably never would.
He wanted, with everything in him, to take her hard and fast. But he denied those desires, because he wanted to see her face when she came. He wanted to feel her muscles convulse around him in pleasure. So he took his time, moving slowly, withdrawing to the very tip of him before pushing deeper, loving her with long, slow thrusts so exquisitely unbearable that his entire body quaked and shuddered.
Her breaths came faster; her hands slid upward, nails dragging over his back and then suddenly sinking into his shoulders. Her hips snapped up to meet his, more demanding each time, and she breathed his name, again and again.
At her signals he moved faster, ending the tight hold he'd placed on himself, freeing his body to obey its own urges and sending his conscious mind scurrying into oblivion. There was only sensation now. Her body beneath him, her heated flesh surrounding him, holding him, her mouth, her hands, her hair, the sounds she made, the way she smelled.
And then even those things vanished in a haze of pure feeling because his body was tightening and clenching as he neared the climax he'd been longing for all his life. The one he would share with her. With this woman.
He opened his eyes, determined to know it would be as incredible for her, desperate to see and feel her own release as well as his. And he did. Her eyes met his, and he saw the feelings swirling in the sapphire depths. Her jaw worked as she held his gaze and moved with him, and she seemed to know what he wanted; to see when it happened for her. Her gaze never wavered, even when she cried his name in a voice choked with pleasure. Even when her eyes widened, and her hands gripped and her nails sank deeper. Even when he thrust himself harder and faster into the depths of her beautiful body, and exploded inside her, feeling his world shatter around him. Their eyes still held. Even when he whispered, "I love you, Aurora. Dammit, I love you."
She stiffened suddenly, pushing him upward with her palms flat to his chest, and stared up at him in what looked like shock. "You...?"
"Never mind," he told her. "Come here," and he drew her to him again, stroked her hair. "It's after midnight," he whispered. "Happy birthday, Aurora."
Seven
Aurora tried not to think about what he'd said, and focused instead on what he did. On what they did. On how he made her feel in a way she'd never felt before, and how no one else could bring her to this point of what felt very much like a melding of two souls. Far more than just sex.
At some point she got up, focused her energies, sat very still with her palms cupped, and willed the magick that formed her circle to shrink and concentrate itself, until it was once again that glowing orb in her hands. A swirling ball of light and energy.
As she stared down at it, she heard Nathan gasp, and glanced up to see him gazing, wide-eyed, into her palms.
"I can't believe this," he muttered.
She frowned. “Do you mean... you can see it?''
And it was his turn to frown. "Shouldn't I? I mean, you see it, don't you?"
"I see it because I'm a Witch."
But his attention was on the energy sphere again. Tentatively, he reached out with a forefinger and touched the glowing ball she held.
"Hold out your hands, Nathan," she told him. And looking at her a little uncertainly, he did.
Gently, Aurora transferred the energy into Nathan's hands. And he gazed down at it in wonder. "What is it?" he whispered.
"It's magick," she said simply. "The magick you don't believe in. And if you can see it, Nathan, that proves you're just a big fraud."
He shook his head. "I don't understand."
"They say seeing is believing, Nathan, but they have it backward. You have to believe in something first, before you can see it." He started to look up at her, but she shook her head. "Concentrate or you'll lose it."
He focused again on the glow in his hands. "W-what do I do with it?"
"I usually give leftover magick back to Mother Earth, for healing."
"How?"
She smiled. He was so wary of the power he didn't even know he had. He was a Witch, too. He just hadn't realized it yet. "Kneel down. Press your palms flat to the ground, and in your mind, see the light sinking into the earth and spreading there, spilling its healing, loving glow all through the planet."
Nathan did as she told him. When he rose again, he was looking at his hands as if he'd never seen them before. "That was incredible." He moved closer to her. "You are incredible."
"I'm selfish," she told him. And she meant it. She hated what she'd done to him tonight. Loved it. But hated it. She'd used him. And only when he'd blurted that he loved her had she realized just how deeply all of this might hurt him.
She didn't want to hurt Nathan.
She should tell him the truth. Now, before ...
Nathan swept her into his arms and kissed her again, scooping her up and carrying her around the house and then inside, straight up the stairs to her bedroom—his lips never leaving hers on the way, his hands never leaving their job of caressing her body to look for a light switch. He was entirely focused, it seemed, on driving her out of her mind with wanting him again, even though she knew it was wrong. She'd done what needed doing. She'd done it in time. She wouldn't lose her powers now.
And yet she wanted him all the same. So when he tumbled with her into her bed, she didn't object. And they were still there when her aunts returned home in the morning.
Nathan saw the panicked expression on her face when the door slammed downstairs and the voices of her aunts came floating up to
them. "Oh, no!" She sat up, clutching the sheet, swinging her head this way and that as she looked for clothes.
Footsteps pattered up the stairs. Someone called her name. She gripped his shoulder, pointed toward the bathroom door, and hissed, "Hurry!"
"Okay, okay!" Nathan jumped out of the bed, taking the sheet with him, and made it into the bathroom just as he heard a perfunctory tap on her bedroom door, followed by the creak of its hinges.
"Didn't you hear us calling, Aurora? We're home! And oh, so excited over what we found when we arrived!"
"What you—"
"These!" one of the aunts—Merriwether, Nathan thought—announced. And he wondered what prize she was showing off.
He crouched low to peer through the keyhole, first spying Aurora's pale face and stunned expression as she pulled her blanket closer. Then he spotted her tall, imposing Aunt Merri, arms outstretched and holding a bundle of clothes.
His clothes.
Oh, boy.
"Am I wrong in assuming these belong to Nathan?" the woman asked, while the other two, including Flora, who seemed in perfect health again, stood looking on.
"No, Aunt Merri. But—"
"Then you did it!" She clapped her hands together. "You did it and now you're—"
"Your powers are safe," Aurora's Aunt Fauna interrupted. He glanced toward the bed and saw Aurora frantically waving a hand as if to shut her aunt up. Just as he'd sensed Fauna had jumped in to shut her sister up. Very strange. What wasn't being said here was almost as interesting as what was. But Fauna rushed on. "You slept with a virgin before your twenty-seventh birthday, just as we told you you must. You won't lose your powers after all. And that's all you need to know, for now."
As she spoke, Aurora, clinging to a blanket for cover, lunged from the bed to silence her aunt, but Fauna had finished her little speech before she ever reached her. And Nathan felt as if he'd been hit between the eyes with a mallet.
Aurora went still, halfway between her aunt and the bed. Her head bowed slowly.
Nathan rose, wrapped the sheet around him, knotting it at his hip, and opened the door, more humiliated and angry and..and he didn't know what else...than he'd ever been in his life.
The three aunts gasped, but Aurora only stood there. She couldn't even look at him.
"Well, at least now I know why."
"Oh, dear," Fauna said in distress. "No, you don't, dear boy, not really. I was only—"
"Please leave," Aurora said, turning to her aunts. And nodding quickly, they did, backing out of the room and muttering apologies all the way. Aurora turned to him and opened her mouth.
"Don't bother," he told her coldly. "Hell, Aurora, I've seen what you can do. I suppose you'd have slept with the devil himself to keep that...that whatever it is."
"I don't believe in the devil. And it wasn't why I—"
"Don't lie, okay? At least give me that much." He shook his head and reached for the clothes Merriwether had dropped on Aurora's bedroom floor. "Man, I made a real fool of myself last night, didn't I? How many times did I tell you I loved you, Aurora? A dozen, at least. What an idiot. All the time I was just part of...of one of your spells.''
"That's not true. I—"
He shook his head, jeans in place, shirt draped over one arm. "Save it. I suppose that was the reason for the damn curse, as well, wasn't it? You...or those nutty aunts of yours, or all of you together—you made sure you'd have your virgin lover intact when the time came."
"You're right," she admitted. "But their intentions were good, Nathan. They didn't mean to hurt anyone."
He shook his head in disgust. "So am I right in assuming their damned hex has been lifted now that you have what you wanted from me?"
Lowering her eyes, she nodded.
"I don't know how you people sleep at night."
He yanked the door open and slammed out of the room, taking the stairs almost blindly, ignoring the sorry looks the other women threw him as he strode out the front door to walk home, struggling into his shirt on the way.
#
Aurora was miserable. And she didn't know why. She should be happy. She'd done what was required. She would keep her powers. And yes, she'd hurt Nathan's feelings in the process, but how many times had he hurt her feelings in the past? Their whole lives he'd been hurting her.
"Why do you think that is?" a soft voice asked.
Aurora sat up in her bed, where she'd been spending most of her time. Oh, she went in to the hospital and worked her shifts, but then she came home and returned to her room, to her bed, and more often than not, she shed a few tears as she tried to make sense of her misery.
Flora, fully recovered from her near death experience, stood in the doorway, looking at her sadly.
"Why do I suppose what is?" she asked her aunt.
“Why do you suppose Nathan McBride has hurt you in the past?"
"Because he's a jerk, that's why."
Flora smiled gently and came in to perch on the edge of the bed. "A lot of people are jerks. But they don't hurt you. Because you don't care. No one is capable of hurting you, Aurora darling, not unless you care very deeply about them."
Aurora blinked and sat up straighter. She sniffed twice, swiped her eyes dry, and nodded. "You're right. I know it. I've known it for a while now. I do care for the idiot." She closed her eyes. "I care a lot."
"You hurt him," Aunt Flora said softly. "And if you're capable of hurting him, then..." She lifted a hand, palm up.
"Then he cares, too," Aurora said. "But I knew that, too. It's past tense, though. He did care. For a while. But not anymore. Not now that he thinks I only used him."
"He's still hurting, sweetheart. So he must still care."
Aurora lifted her eyes to her aunt's and felt a tiny flutter of hope try to come to life in her chest. "I love him, Aunt Flora."
"I know, dear. So tell him. No matter what happens, just tell him. And when you do, he's going to say, 'I love you, too, Aurora Sortilege.' "
#
"I hate you, Aurora Sortilege. Detest you and despise you. I do not love you. I do not, not, not love you. Never have, never will. And that's final."
Nathan paced the floor of his living room whispering these reassurances to himself over and over again. Because he had a pretty little thing named Bobbie Lou or Sally Jo or something like that, waiting for him to perform, and his body was utterly unwilling. She'd shown up on his doorstep an hour ago. A flight attendant he'd taken out once before. She said she remembered how strangely that night had ended and thought she'd give it another shot, as long as she was in town. And did he want to take her to dinner. And he did.
No, I don't. I don't want to take her anywhere. I want Aurora.
Bull. He most definitely wanted the bimbette with the copper-colored curls.
Or were they brown?
She was in his bathroom now. Freshening up, as she put it. And as he paced, she called, "If you don't feel like going out, Nate, honey, we can order in. It would be cozy, don't you think?"
Why the hell didn't she squelch that ear-splittingly irritating whiny voice so he could think?
"Nate? Sweetie?"
"Don't call me Nate," he snapped.
Her head popped out of the bathroom and she glanced at him questioningly. Copper. The curls were copper. Practically metallic.
"Sorry," he said. She smiled and stepped out farther. And there she was, wearing a skimpy black teddy and looking like a centerfold.
Nathan looked at her. Then he looked down at himself. Nothing was happening. He was having no physical reaction whatsoever. He shook his head. "Sorry, Betty Ray," he said. "But this isn't going to work. Why don't you get dressed and go home?"
Her lower lip thrust out. "It's Becky Lynn. Jerk." She slammed the bathroom door, presumably to dress.
As the door shut, there was a tap at the door behind him, the one that led outside, and he turned just as it opened. And then his heart flipped over. Because Aurora stood there. He felt a thousand pounds float awa
y from his shoulders. He felt as if he could fly. He was stupid. He should be mad as hell.
"You told me the curse was gone now," he muttered. "But you're still messing with my head, you and those nutty aunts of yours. Aren't you, Aurora?"
She pursed her lips. "I didn't come here to fight with you. Or to listen to you rant. I came here to tell you something, and I'd appreciate it if you'd shut up and let me get it said."
He lifted both hands, palms up, and raised his brows, giving her the floor with the gesture.
"Okay," she said. She paced a few steps, pushed a hand through her glorious hair, and faced him again. "Okay. This is it. What happened between us wasn't just because of what you overheard at my house. I mean...it started out that way, but then..." She closed her eyes and straightened her spine. "Hell, you said it to me, and I can damn well say it to you." Eyes opening wide, she strode right up to him, stared right into his eyes and said, "I am in love with you, Nathan McBride, and I imagine I probably have been for most of my life." She drew a deep breath and blew it out. "There. I said it."
Nathan gaped. He searched her face and tried to stop his heart from palpitating. She meant it. She actually meant it. He lifted his hands to frame her face. "Aurora, I—"
"Here," Becky Lynn shouted, and flung something at his head. "Keep that as a souvenir, creep!" And she stormed out the door.
Aurora backed away suddenly, and as he peeled the thing away from his head, he saw her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, hell. Aurora, wait. This isn't what you think."
But she was shaking her head, backing away. "You...and she...after what we..."
He reached out for her, belatedly realizing he held a black teddy in his hand. He tossed it to the floor. "Dammit, Aurora, nothing happened with her. I couldn't—"
"But you wanted to. You were going to. You...that's why you said what you did, about the curse, and—" The tears spilled over and Nathan's heart cracked. "How could you, Nathan?'' She turned and ran the same way Becky Lynn had. With one major difference.
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