Mohegan: A Siren's Spell Romance

by Stella Marie Alden

  “No, never.” My stomach churns at the thought.

  Clearly, she has no idea of how bad things can get out there in the real world.

  “Hmmm. Me neither. I did try to get my friend to go home but she insisted on going in. You know how young humans are? They ignore their basic instincts? Anyhow, it wasn’t long before I sensed something off on the second floor and got myself past a guard standing at the stairs. Then, there was this woman screaming behind one of the doors, so I dialed 911, and then Jack.”

  “And?”

  “Well, when no help came, I pounded on the door, and this warlock opened it. Jeesh, his aura was nasty. It scared the shit out of me. I guess he heard the sirens and jumped off the deck. When the police came, he was gone, and that was it.”

  “And?”

  Damn it. She’s leaving something important out.

  “No more. I told you what happened.”

  “And?” I stare. The woman is incredible at lying but now that I’m getting to know her better, I can see the subtleties in her aura.

  She mutters under her breath, “Maybe he did threaten me. Okay?”

  I get off the stool, needing to pace rather than take her over my knee. “All this time you’ve known? That the beer bottle came from him?”

  At least she has the decency to look apologetic. “Yeah, I recognized the stench from the house.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell Fialko? You’re his healer, for God’s sake.” Now, I’m shouting as I grab her arm and press my face into hers, our lips too damn close.

  The siren shrugs, pouts, and pulls out of my grasp. “That’s another question. Sit down, Mohegan. Deal.”

  I swear, when this is over, I will teach her how to behave.

  She wins the next couple hands, stands, and goes to her fridge. There, she holds up a bottle of 44° North. “Like Vodka?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  An engineer on a speeding train, I see a vehicle on the tracks but it’s too late to hit the brakes. Disaster is imminent.

  “On the rocks?”

  “Anything else just waters it down, sweetheart, such a waste.”

  “You know, biker, you may be my kind of witch.” Her wicked smile socks me in the gut and when she licks her lips, my groin tightens.

  I want her. It’s primal and from the part of the brain that evolved eons ago.

  The temptress crosses the room, holding my gaze with the centers of her eyes black and wide. When her nostrils flare, more of my blood rushes south and I swallow hard.

  “Your damn tea isn’t working.”

  “Good.”

  “Is that so? I’m not sure we even like each other.”

  If we’re going to do this, there’ll be no regrets.

  Ice crackles in the crystal tumblers as she places our drinks on the counter and sits.

  “You mean to say you’ve never enjoyed meaningless, mind-numbing sex.” Shifting forward on the red stool, she places a hand high on my thigh, and all my brain cells leave town.

  “Maybe I don’t do that kind of thing.”

  “Bullshit.” Leaning forward, she slides her lips across mine.

  Ah hell, she’s right. I don’t know why I’m resisting.

  “Alright, maybe I’ve been known to do an occasional one-night stand. But this is different. What if we can’t undo this spell and we’re stuck with each other for life?”

  And we end up hating each other like me and my ex.

  “Isn’t that true whether we fuck tonight or not?”

  I shrug at her logic, raise my glass to her, and swallow. Liquid courage pours down my throat and I need it. If I fuck this woman, it could end up worse than my first marriage.

  She finishes her drink and gathers up the chips. “Here, you take these.”

  Putting the bottle in the crook of her arm, her glass in her hand, she hands me the deck of cards and says, “Grab a candle. Let’s take this, upstairs.”

  Chapter Six

  Olivia

  You must be thinking that the vodka was the worst idea, ever but if you were here, you’d understand. First off, the biker is sexy as sin and even without a spell, I would’ve hit on him. Secondly, I haven’t had sex for ages, maybe over a year and my kind doesn’t do well with long periods of celibacy.

  This is my reasoning as I climb up the stairs into my living room. In truth, the alcohol is kicking in, erasing the effects of the tea, and I don’t care. I’m tired of fighting the inevitable.

  While I place the bottle, my glass, and the deck of cards on my coffee table, he glances up at my wall of ancient texts. “Do you have a copy of The Book of Abramelin the Mage?”

  “Yeah. Hold on.” I find the leather-bound copy and set it gently on the glass-covered stump that washed up during hurricane sandy.

  There’s a battery powered LED lamp on top of the fridge and I hold it up as he thumbs through the book.

  “Look here.” He pats the couch close to him and I sit.

  When our thighs meet, I suck in my breath. Sex better be soon because it’s pretty damn hard to focus on what he’s reading or focus at all.

  “I don’t see what that page has to do with anything.” In truth, Latin isn’t my strong suit, especially after drinking.

  He points out one line of a poem and reads, “The mages mate uniting their power, binding them forever in life and in death until the darkness is dispelled.”

  “That’s it?”

  His aura flares and his voice gets excited. “How about a copy of The Forbidden Words of Ahmad al-Buni?”

  “Jeesh. How do you know I got that?”

  “I probably was the one that sent you that copy.”

  “Wait. You work for the Healer’s Guild Library?”

  Holy Goddess. I have totally underestimated this guy.

  He shrugs. “You’ll need to win another hand before I answer that. First, let’s look.”

  I give him my copy and he opens up to love spells and tsk-tsks. “This translation is off. The original, in Arabic is much different.

  “No shit. You read Arabic, too?”

  He doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Latin, French, Italian, English, Spanish, German, and some Mandarin.”

  I stare at the biker and move my hand to my gaping mouth. I was so wrong about him.

  It’s good that he doesn’t look up because he misses me hitting my forehead repeatedly with my palm.

  Finally, he points. “Here. This should say, two magicians cleave as one, unable to part.”

  “Does it say how to undo it?” I swallow down more vodka and pour another for both of us.

  He frowns, brows furrowed. “Yeah. A vague reference to undoing evil.”

  His eyes lift from his reading and his sexy breath warms my face. “I think all the recent events are all tied together. Your evil-doer in the party house, my being summoned here, and our little problem.”

  “Little problem?” I squeak.

  Does he mean the fact I want to jump his bones this instant? That problem?

  He chuckles. “Women have a tendency to make more out of sex than they should.”

  My craving lessens with that patronizing statement and I pour another shot into each of our glasses. “Let’s just play poker, okay?”

  “Okaaay…” An eyebrow raised, he picks up the deck, shuffles, and wins.

  “You didn’t tell Jack about the man that jumped out the window. Why?”

  How best to explain?

  “Jack’s got two kids. His brothers all have kids. I don’t want him getting involved until I’m absolutely sure he needs to be.”

  “You should tell him. Their wars are none of our business and if Jack really is like family, he should know.”

  I stand, the need to get this off my chest too strong to resist. “You don’t understand. I swear to God that warlock was a healer! I thought he’d disappear once he figured out the Fialko brothers live close by. The safest neighborhoods in Brooklyn are where the crime bosses live. Know what I mean?”

&n
bsp; He glowers, curses, and glances down at his phone but Verizon is still down. “Shit. You should’ve mentioned that first. That changes everything.”

  Outside the storm picks up and a beach chair bangs into the bottom of my house. Glad for an excuse for fresh air, I jump up and grab my yellow rubber slicker. “Be right back.”

  “Wait up. I’m coming.” He kicks off his shoes, pulls his shirt over his head, and follows me down the stairs.

  Damn. He’s so damn male, tall, lean, and muscled. At the door, I can’t help but reach and trace a rune tat right above his navel.

  With a smile less cocky and brows furrowed, he pulls my hand away with a kiss to my fingers. “C’mon. Let’s get this done.”

  By the time the shutters are locked down over the plate glass, I’m soaked from the waist down, and his long hair is slicked, jeans dripping.

  “You got a weather radio?” He kicks off his boots by the kitchen door.

  Nodding, I turn on the old transistor device and a male computerized voice announces the storm’s statistics, including a local flood warning.

  “Sixty knots? That’s almost a hurricane, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Apparently, the storm got stuck just off the coast. Worried?”

  He smirks. “Not now. While we were out there, I added some of my own wards to the house, just in case.”

  With jeans plastered to his frame, naked chest dripping with water, and long dark hair pulled out of his hair tie, he looks good enough to eat.

  I can’t help but reach to pull a dark lock out of his eyes and caress his forehead.

  “Olivia…” His eyelids close, a moan escapes, and his lips crash down on mine.

  Like the first time, my body ignites at his touch. With his fingertips digging into my scalp, he turns my head so our noses don’t collide, and takes the kiss deeper.

  My arms, still encased in my slicker, wrap around his wet body.

  When he shivers, I say, “We need to get out of these clothes.”

  He laughs.

  “I don’t mean that.”

  “I do.”

  “C’mon. I tug him up the stairs and point him toward the bathroom. “Put your clothes in the tub, I’ll wash them as soon as we have power.”

  The temperature outside is dropping so I light a couple logs in the fireplace. When finished, I hear him come up behind me and turn. He’s got a towel around his naked lower half but I get a glimpse of his well-endowed family jewels through the open slit in the front.

  “Sorry.” He grins and flashes me again.

  “Bullshit.”

  The wind roars against the outside of the house, rattling all the windows and flames shoot up the flue.

  “More cards?”

  Say no.

  “Sure.”

  What the hell is wrong with this guy? I’ve all but thrown myself at him.

  He looks out the window. “When is high tide?”

  “A couple hours away. Be right back.”

  Why are we still talking about the weather?

  Starting to itch, I take a candle toward the bathroom to rid myself of wet, sandy clothes. Then, I jump into the shower, thankful for the gas heater and deliciously warm water.

  Used to living alone, I need to shout out for help. “Hey Mohegan, can you do me a favor? Grab me a towel? They’re in the hall closet, across from the bathroom.”

  “Sure.” As I peek out my door, he wanders down the hall, holding the LED lantern.

  This whole scene strikes me as way too intimate. Me naked in the bathroom, him in just a towel, and damn, what a body. Did he purposefully leave so much of his lower torso showing?

  He finds a big bath sheet, shakes it, and then tugs the door wide open, out of my grasp. Twirling me inside the soft terry, I end up with my back to his chest, his arms around my breasts.

  With his warm breath at my ear, he says in this sexy, low, voice, “Such a shame to cover this all up.”

  A finger slides under my arm, near the top of my breast as he tucks the cotton tight. “Just say the word. I’m ready when you are.”

  Now that he’s ready, I step back, having second thoughts about jumping into bed with this stranger. Not because there’s any less wanting on my part but because I fear my heart might get involved. I’m starting to like this man a lot more than I should.

  I turn and kiss him on the cheek. “Let’s just play some more cards and see what happens.”

  What the fuck is wrong with us?

  “Suit yourself.” With a shrug, he turns and heads out of the bathroom.

  Maybe the vodka was a mistake.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Men have never made me nervous so I’m surprised when I start to babble as I pour water into the machine. “The ground under our feet, in addition to being sacred, is at a slightly higher elevation. The worst that will happen is that flood waters will leave us stranded on our own small island. If you’re worried, we can always ask for some help. One of the Fialko brothers married a witch with water talent and they’re a few blocks away.”

  “I told you. Not worried.”

  In the living room, my couch creaks and cards snap as he shuffles a bit too hard.

  “You have chips you haven’t cashed in.” He looks up appreciatively when I sit next to him and place two mugs on the glass.

  “I want to be able to ask follow up questions.”

  “I’m done letting you win.”

  “Ha. Want to up the stakes?”

  “You like playing with fire, Olivia?” His tongue rolls out my name, so damn sensual. Dark eyes hone in on me, and a tease of a smile plays on his lips.

  It takes serious effort to tear my gaze away from his mouth. What do I want to happen tonight? We’re both adults, both understanding that sex has no meaning other than meeting a physical need.

  So, what’s stopping us?

  “Just deal, Mohegan.”

  “Uh-uh. You said you wanted to up the stakes. If I win, I get a kiss as well as my question answered.”

  Am I actually disappointed that all he wants is a kiss?

  Outside, the wind gusts and a tree cracks, crashing near the front of the house.

  “What was that?” I jump up, check out the window, and return to the couch and if I sat any closer, I’d be in his lap.

  “Nothing too serious. Lost a branch, though.” Rather than shuffle, I stare at his aura, biting my lower lip.

  Do I dare?

  He leans back, puts his arm over the back of the couch and gives me this smug look. “Why not just ask me? Get it over with. You have plenty of questions saved up.”

  Damn. How does he do that? Read my mind?

  “Okay. Who are you, Mohegan? Why did you come here tonight?”

  His brows raise and he rakes a hand over his beard. “Wow. I did not see that coming. That’s two, very open-ended questions. I could answer in so many ways.”

  “Try.” I laugh at how his aura flares with confusion. At least he’s not hiding it from me, anymore.

  “Let’s see. First off, I’m a witch, not a warlock. You probably already guessed that but I want to make that clear.” He looks at me for approval and I nod.

  “Good to know.”

  “I was brought up by my grandfather in the Cherokee nation and if anywhere is home, it’s there.”

  “That’s in New Mexico, right?”

  “Is that another question?”

  “Hell no. I’ll Google it. Go on. You haven’t answered my questions.

  “White people would call me a medicine man. You know me as a witch. I read auras, sense where I’m needed, and can heal.”

  He’s leaving out something but I let it go because he’d make me cash in another chip.

  His brows raise, he leans forward such that our lips touch. “So, we good?”

  I nod and pick up the cards, disappointed that nothing matches. When I glance over, he obviously has a winning hand so I fold. Sexual tension mounting, it goes on like this for a while un
til I get two aces and two fours. He has something good, too, so the betting is high.

  Shit. Slowly, he flips a queen of hearts, then spades, and then clubs.

  My heart pounds as his gaze lifts to mine. Thigh to thigh on the couch, the heat between us spikes and the towel tents in his lap. Brown eyes hold mine captive as he cups my chin while his thumb caresses my cheek.

  I inch in closer. He closes the gap.

  My sex, which has been twitching all evening, jumps to high alert. As his palm slides behind my neck, his kisses seduce and consume.

  My hand drops to his lap, grasping his knee. Under his towel, I circle my hand around his hard length, kissing him back, my body on fire. “Mohegan.”

  “Olivia.” His brows scrunch, eyes shut tight. “Damn, I want you.”

  We stand, I take his hand, and lead him into my bedroom.

  Chapter Seven

  Mohegan

  Thank God, she wants this. Any more poker and I’d have gone fucking insane. My days of messing around on the couch like a randy teen have long passed. If two adults want to get it on with some off-the-charts sex, why not?

  As if answering my question, memories of the cheating bitch I once married haunt me before I send them packing. No way am I letting thoughts of her ruin another night.

  I wonder what being hitched to Olivia might be like.

  The thought is fleeting because when she drops her towel in the bedroom, my mind hones in on one thing only; fucking her until she screams.

  That tempting small triangle of short red curls points to where I need to sink my cock deep into her. Above that, there’s flat abs with a seductive ring piercing her navel. Beautiful rosy nipples rest upon an ample chest. Her hair falls in ringlets below her waist. Hell, she looks like Venus in that Italian painting. The only thing lacking is a clam shell.

  “Stunning.” Because words can’t begin to describe what’s going on under the towel, I let go so she can see my huge rod, crooking to find home.

  Eyes wide, she licks her lips.

  Slow down, fella, this one is special.

  I take two steps, she takes one, and our bodies collide. Skin to skin, chest to chest, my cock slips between her legs and her warm wetness coats my length.