Mohegan: A Siren's Spell Romance

by Stella Marie Alden

  Zoe places a sandwich in front of me, then throws in a load of laundry. “Eat. My other one is at daycare. We can pick him up at two. The younger is getting more and more like his Dad, stubborn as hell.”

  “It’s probably in the male DNA. Right, hunny-bunny?” I smile at Charlie and he grins back, banging his fist onto the high chair tray.

  Will my baby have dark hair like Mohegan or red like mine? Boy or girl? Butcher, baker, or Indian chief? I wet a wash cloth and find Charlie under all that baby food.

  Then I take him out of the highchair, jiggle him on my hip, and think about when I’ll tell Mohegan. “Maybe I should wait until after three months. That’s the most critical time for miscarriages, right? Hey, are all babies so cute?”

  Zoe dumps the pile of clothes on the kitchen table and starts to fold. “No, to the second question. And to the first, miscarriages are rare with healers. You need to tell him.”

  “I don’t know. It’s best to be sure.”

  The casino comes to mind. How handsome Mohegan looked that night, how he bought me that bracelet, how good it felt to be in his arms. How right we were when we made love. How had everything gone so bad, so fast?

  Damn Holiday for sticking his nose into my business.

  “Know what I think? I think you should call him right now.” Zoe balances the stacks of clothes as she heads upstairs and I follow.

  “No… He’ll say exactly what Holiday told my Mom and me for years. The job is too important to quit and it’s too dangerous for having a family life.”

  “But if you both decided to live here at the shore, that wouldn’t be an issue. No one comes around here without Jack and his brothers going ape-shit.”

  I get the feeling Mohegan would grow to resent that but don’t say so out loud.

  The stacks of clothes disappear into drawers, then she returns and we head downstairs. “Well, we got some time to think about it. Are you going home for Thanksgiving or staying here?”

  “Here. Things are a bit strained with the ‘rents.”

  Back in the kitchen Zoe sits with her tea and checks the time while I pick at my sandwich. Nothing has tasted right since New Orleans.

  Zoe raises her eyebrows knowingly and gets me some crackers and peanut butter. “But what about your mom? She’ll be disappointed.”

  “No doubt she’ll spend it waiting for Holiday who’ll show up late and leave early. I can’t bear to watch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mohegan.

  I told Eduda and my cousins I’d be coming home for Thanksgiving but bail at the last minute. My mood could dampen the whole state of Oklahoma. So, after apologizing one more time to Aunt Marian, I hang up, get on my bike and just ride.

  On Wednesday night, that feeling of trouble points me again toward New Jersey. Sighing, I follow the urge and end up outside Olivia’s home Friday morning, half frozen. Luckily, I didn’t run into snow.

  The familiar neon light buzzes overhead as I stand there like a teenager, wondering whether I should knock and with no idea of what to do or say.

  Finally, I try the door, it’s locked and the sign says closed.

  Shit.

  I put Jack’s address into my GPS the old-fashioned way and drive over to his place. After crossing a long Victorian porch, I knock.

  A woman healer with a strange aura comes to the door with a baby on her hip and smiles. “You must be Mohegan. Welcome.”

  “Zoe? Is Olivia here?” I take a deep breath and hold it.

  If she and her clan refuse to let me in, I’ll have to hole up someplace nearby and frankly, I’m frozen.

  I let her see my totally fucked-up aura.

  “My God, come in.” Shaking her head, she takes my coat and leads me to the main living room where a warm fire crackles. Nearby, Jack Fialko sits on the floor, reading to a toddler.

  When he sees us, he stands, Zoe hands him the baby and rushes upstairs.

  “Welcome.” Unfriendly flames burn in the centers of Jack’s eyes but I don’t care if he kills me.

  “Maybe I should go.” I cringe when upstairs, Olivia argues with Zoe about coming down to talk to me.

  “You really fucked up, dude.” Jack takes pity on me, walks me into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door.

  “You look like something the dog dragged in. Want some leftover turkey?”

  “Thanks. That’d be good. I haven’t stopped to eat or sleep since leaving Chicago.”

  With the baby in the crook of his arm, Jack grabs me a plate and silverware.

  If this situation wasn’t so fucked up it’d be funny. Maybe my homing urge is broken. Everything here seems fine except me.

  Jack gives up being intimidating when he squats and kisses his little girl on the forehead. “It’s okay, honey. Go back to your books, I’ll be back in a second. Daddy needs to talk.”

  A small red spark appears in his daughter’s eyes, she takes her thumb out of her mouth, and points. “Do you need me to blast him for you, Daddy?”

  Jack tussles her hair. “No. I got this, sweetheart.”

  After the cute little fire-witch leaves, Jack walks over to the stove where there’s a bottle warming in a pan of water. He splashes a drop of milk onto his arm, adjusts the baby in his arm, then slips the nipple into a mouth.

  When the baby latches with greedy, suckling sounds, he narrows his eyes in my direction. “Why are you here, Mohegan? Zoe told us everything. Why make this harder than it is, on both of you?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “If that’s your answer, you should get back on your bike and ride. If you need to mate, get it out of your system as fast as possible and for fuck’s sake, don’t make her cry again.”

  Jack makes a soothing sound when the baby fusses at his tone and adjusts the bottle.

  Thank God, I hadn’t met him alone, without his kids. His aura says he’d like to murder me.

  With that sobering thought, I start checking my phone for local hotels until I hear Olivia’s voice behind me.

  “Okay, Mohegan, I’m here. What do you want?”

  I sensed trouble. But I don’t tell her that because when I turn, all the air is sucked out of my lungs. She’s so damn, fucking, beautiful that my heart stops. It’s like stepping out of a black and white movie and into color. Her long hair is loose and I remember how it caressed me when she was on top of me making love, screaming out my name.

  Those black leggings and green sweater would be off in a second if we were alone. Maybe it is time to mate but that’s not what my heart is feeling.

  I let my aura out fully. Time for her to understand the depth of my feelings for her. “I needed to know you’re okay.”

  She gasps but turns away, toward the wall. “No.”

  “No?” My world splinters apart into tiny pieces.

  Her lower lip quivers but her resolve is clear. “I won’t love you. We can mate if we must but I won’t hold my breath for Christmas, pine away until Solstice, sit on the front steps on Memorial Day. Don’t you get it? I’ve had a lifetime of that. I deserve more. We deserve more.”

  Shit. Her aura says she’s hiding something and then I see a tiny aura near her navel.

  Holy fucking shit, it can’t be! She lied?

  I step in and pinch her chin, holding her gaze captive but she lowers her lids as the tops of her cheeks turn bright red.

  “You got something you want to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “Tell him, Liv. A man’s got a right to know.” Jack calls out from where he’s sitting in the living room with Zoe and the kids.

  A cold chill runs down my back. Oh fuck, I thought I sensed trouble? This is a whole lot more than trouble. When I touch her stomach, nothing will ever be the same.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t conceive?”

  “I couldn’t.” She pushes my hand away and stares at what is no doubt a myriad of emotions flaring about my head. Hell, even I don’t know what I feel. I’m angry she lied, there’s t
his huge sense of betrayal and worse, pure unworthiness. I’ve got no idea how to be a dad.

  She watches my aura, growing angrier by the second. “You are such an ass, Mohegan.”

  With that, she storms out of the room and runs up the stairs.

  That’s why you never want to marry a witch who can read your aura and why I try not to show my emotions.

  I follow her up, bounding two at a time, trying to keep my voice down because there’s kids in the house. “Yeah, I’m freaked. Weren’t you, at first?”

  She stops in front of a bedroom door, pouting. “Only for a second or so. I was happy. Really happy. Right about until you showed up.”

  Ouch. “Cut me some slack. I’m only about thirty seconds in. Christ, woman.” I close down my aura and she does the same.

  “I think you should go.”

  “I will but I’ll be back. That baby is mine, too.”

  “Fine. Let’s see. What’s the next holiday? Christmas? See you then but do me a favor, book a hotel room.” Sobbing she runs into the bedroom, slams the door and I let her go. If I hadn’t showed up, would she have even told me? Somehow, I think not.

  I’m fucking furious as I walk down the stairs but polite enough to thank the Fialkos before I get on my bike and go.

  All my dreams of making love to her, having her come to Chicago and changing my life forever are wiped from the face of the earth.

  Her father was right.

  We don’t belong together.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Olivia.

  What was I thinking when I chose to celebrate Christmas in Rochester? Sure, a couple of my cousins dropped by, as did some friends that I haven’t seen since high school. After, me and Mom went to the local Presbyterian Church, not because she’s a huge believer but because they’ve got the best carols.

  That’s so screwed-up, by any religious standards.

  When Holiday shows up just after midnight, they get all lovey-dovey and go upstairs. Before Mohegan, I never really understood why a beautiful and talented healer like my mom would settle for a lifetime of heartache.

  Now, it’s pretty damn clear as I stand here at the window, chest tight and heart yearning. I glance down the street one last time before turning in. I never should’ve sent that email to Eduda but apparently, lack of brain cells is a part of being pregnant.

  When a pair of headlights reflects off the heavy snow, I hold my breath. A cab pulls into the driveway, my heart flutters like wild and I rush to the door. Throwing it open, I fling myself into Mohegan’s arms.

  His soft beard is as cold as his nose but his kiss is warm, his mouth, demanding. It’s like our last fight never happened.

  When we come up for air, I drag him inside, next to the last embers of the fireplace.

  He’s all smiles, his aura as bright as mine. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Despite all the angry words, I love this man and if all I get is holidays, so be it. Suddenly, I understand my mother so well that I get a little choked up. Years of anger and resentment fade away.

  Mohegan’s eyes are bright as he shrugs off his wool coat and tosses it on a recliner.

  Frigid hands cup my cheeks and yet warm lips meet mine. “I missed you so damn much, more and more as time went by.”

  “Me too.” I wrap my arms around his waist, put my head on his chest and inhale his unique scent.

  How did I think I could live without him? After thinking about it for weeks, I finally understand the importance of what he does and how I need to be second to The Guild, the greater good.

  We embrace for the longest time, neither one of us wanting to let go. After, he pulls away, digs into his knapsack and out comes a small, black box.

  “I was going to wait but I can’t.” Kneeling on the floor in front of me, his hands shake as he opens the velvety case and holds it up.

  I gasp and my eyes bug out of my head. Inside is the most beautiful emerald ring I’ve ever seen.

  He clears his throat and waits for me to meet his warm stare. “I get that we hardly know one another, sweetheart but I love you and now that we got a baby. I want him to have my name. Marry me?”

  It’s not the mushiest profession of love but it’s heartfelt and honest.

  I kneel down right in front of him, smiling, nodding and wiping back tears. “Yes, oh yes. I do.”

  “Thank God.” He sighs and pulls me tightly into his chest, chin on the top my head.

  I usually hate January and February even more, but this year is different. Every night I talk to my fiancé on Skype, sometimes for hours.

  When he shows up in March, unannounced, I stop grinding herbs for Mrs. Dimitri’s tea, not quite believing my eyes. “Wait. This isn’t a holiday.”

  “I was in the neighborhood.” He removes his helmet, places it on one of the small, wrought-iron tables and pats Luna who dropped a toy mouse at his feet.

  “You jerk! You should’ve called.” I jump into his arms and he swings me around and around, my baby bump between us.

  Then, he stops and puts a hand on my stomach, eyes wide. “Holy shit. Well, hi there, baby. I’m your daddy.”

  His wet eyes lift to mine. “I fucking missed you so much, sweetheart.”

  With my throat too tight to answer, I press my lips to his, dig my fingertips into the back of his neck and sigh. He’s real and not a dream.

  Our kiss grows deeper, his hands hold my head and my fingers shake as they work the zipper on his leather jacket. Together, we manage to shrug it onto the floor.

  Walking me backwards, he presses me against the door, unfazed by the clang of hanging bells. Luna, however, yowls from the top shelf, jumps down and dashes up the stairs while I flip over the open sign. After locking the front door, I take his hand, duck under the tie-dyed curtain and turn out the light.

  I’m so huge. What if he doesn’t find me attractive?

  He flips the light back on, lifts me up and sets me on the bed. “No way. I want to see every inch of your beautiful body. You’re one damn hot momma.”

  More than his words, more than his aura, the huge bulge in front of my eyes is proof positive that he still wants me. Carefully, I undo the button-fly jeans to release his cock. When it springs out, I lick the wet bead off the head.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” My pent-up lust is raging as I suck him and he groans.

  “Oh shit.”

  Removing my mouth, I tighten my grip around his base. “I want it fast. Mohegan.”

  “Got it.” He tears off his jeans, I fling my clothes and we both lay onto the small cot.

  I laugh because he takes up all the room. “Should we go upstairs?”

  “Hell no. I’m taking you right here, right now.” Naked, he kisses me with abandon while his knee pushes up into my damp curls between my legs.

  When his hand slips over my baby bump, he pauses to stare and catch his breath. “I can’t believe our baby is growing in there.”

  His hands measure my breasts that have grown at least one cup in size. “I can’t believe these, either.”

  Happy, laying side by side, I let him explore all the changes in my body while I enjoy his sameness. Silky locks caress between my fingers. Perhaps, his hair is a little longer.

  After that, it’s hard to do anything while his busy hands work me into a frenzy. He pulls my hair, pinches my breasts, and plays with the ring at my belly button. A concert violinist, I am his instrument.

  My clit swells and dampens with a primitive need that must be met. So, I grab his length, roll him onto his back and straddle him. Kissing my way down his body, I kneel between his legs.

  His cock jumps to attention and before he can stop me, I put my mouth on him, watching his expression.

  Will he let me take the lead? Answering my question, he moans as my tongue plays along my personal ice cream cone. More zings shoot to my core when I grab him at the base, suck, and taste the salty bead at his silky head.

  “Ah fuck, Olivia.” He thrusts up into the back of my
throat and with both hands in my hair, pulls to the tempo of his need.

  Emboldened, I suck at him harder and faster, having to squish my legs together so as not to come from the exotic pleasure. Sure, I’ve done this before but never so in sync with my partner’s needs.

  Gripping my shoulders, his body rigid, he bucks into me while I hold his base with my lips tight. He thickens, I squeeze, I suck, and he comes hard and fast. Too soon, he tries to pull out of my mouth but I hold on, swallowing every last bit of his liquids. When he has no more, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while he pulls me up his body and devours me in a kiss.

  “Baby, that felt so fucking amazing.” His hands slide down my baby bump, his fingers play with the piercing, then he drops to his knees.

  He’ll be sorry to learn that the midwife says the navel ring needs to be removed, at least for a while.

  My ass at the edge of the mattress, he picks up my heels and puts them on his shoulders. When his calloused finger slides across my clit, I see stars and moan.

  “Watch me, Liv. Don’t close your eyes.” He licks my liquids. “Tastes so damn good.”

  His cunning tongue goes to work on my already swollen nub. When he’s done, he sucks and thrusts a finger into my open hole and twists until he finds my ‘G’ spot.

  I gasp with all my muscles tensed.

  “That’s it, momma. Come for me.”

  Not a problem. I’ve been on the verge of orgasm since he walked in the door and his foreplay has turned me into a sex-deprived, crazy, pregnant woman.

  I push hard and fast into his knuckles, rocking, growing higher. “If you pull away, I swear I’ll kill you.”

  His laugh is throaty yet muffled and his eyes lift to mine with a wicked wink. After that, he’s all business, licking, sucking, pushing, turning.

  “Oh God. I’m about to come.” Every synapse in my body is ready to fire and with my knees wide, I take a deep breath and hold.

  He waits.

  “Oh shit.” Quivering on the edge, I teeter on this cliff, hanging on by a thread.