“Tierra, you okay?”
Where did she start? “It was just a really stressful night.” And morning.
Hell, a bunch of stressful months since Moira first answered the spell she'd cast. Guess there was something to that saying about being careful for what you wished for.
Tierra glanced around the teashop. There were a few people at the corner tables and more sitting outside in the garden area, but for all practical purposes she and Sunny were alone. No one was paying them any mind.
“So what's really up?” Sunny asked. “It's not that douchebag Nicholas something-er-other still trying to evict us, is it?”
“No, Aerin sicced her lawyers on him and has him tied up in mountains of paperwork.” She motioned that irritating problem away with a wave of her hand. “I need to have sex.”
“Don't we all.”
Tierra leaned in. “No, I mean, I need to have sex. Like for the first time.”
“You're shitting me,” Sunny whispered. “You mean, you've never…yeah, wait. I actually kinda get that.”
“What?”
“Makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it. You've been holding out for Mr. Right haven't you? You're too much of a romantic not to. So why are you not holding out any longer?”
“Curiosity?”
“But you can't give it away to just anyone.”
“Not just anyone. He has to be hot.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Does that make me sound shallow?”
“If you are looking to lose your virginity with a one-time-wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, you don't go for personality.”
“That sounds so…impersonal.”
“It can be. Sex can be many things, but one thing you have to know—”
Just then a customer came up and ordered a double latte. Tierra waited impatiently for Sunny to be free to finish.
“What's the one thing I have to know?” she asked as soon as the customer was happily on his way.
“About what?”
“About sex,” she whispered.
“Right. So, your first time—”
Another customer entered and stole Sunny away from her again.
You've got to be kidding me. Were the goddesses having a laugh at her expense today or what?
To keep herself from demanding that Sunny answer her question, regardless of the customers who would overhear, Tierra busied herself by making a relaxing brew. If she were going to do this, she would need some help in loosening up. She refused to think of it in the terms Moira has so artlessly used.
“Okay,” Sunny said after ringing up the order and wishing the couple a good day. “The first time you have sex, it's dissatisfying nine times out of ten.”
“Oh, well, that's…
“Disappointing,” they both said together, sharing a laugh.
“The key is to lower your expectations. Go in knowing it's going to suck. Oh, and don't do that the first time.”
“Do what?”
“Suck anything of his.”
Tierra choked on the mouthful of tea she'd just swallowed.
“Yeah, see that's exactly what I'm talking about. Swallow or not to swallow.” Sunny handed Tierra a napkin to wipe her mouth. “Just don't worry about anything like that the first time. Get full penetration over with and then you can experiment. By the way, what are you drinking? It smells delicious.”
Tierra set the tea down. “Lemon balm and catnip to help relax me, but I think I'm going to need something stronger to loosen my inhibitions.”
“Got just the place. Go to Sirens. You won't be too far from here if you get into trouble and my friend Phoebe works there. Always smart to have people you can count on if the guy turns out to be a serial killer or something. No, don't worry about that. This isn't Seattle. Nothing bad like that happens here.
“Sirens is perfect,” Sunny continued even though Tierra turned ice cold as the blood drained from her face. “Not only will they serve you something to loosen your inhibitions, but looking like you do, fresh meat and all, you'll find your guy. Just stop and pick up some protection first.”
“I have my crystals.” She held up her arm with the multiple bracelets wrapped around her wrist trying to take in all that Sunny had just said. “Oh, wait you're not talking this kind of protection…are you? Pregnancy. I knew that.”
“There are worse things than getting pregnant. Which one is the gonorrhea crystal?”
“Eww. Okay, good point. So…uh…where do I get the other kind of protection?”
“They're called condoms and every grocery or convenience store carries them. You know, never mind.” Sunny headed into the back room and retrieved a purse that looked like a saddlebag. She reached inside and pulled out a square box. “This should do. It has a range of sizes to fit any man.”
“Sizes?”
“Oh hon, you'll soon learn, all men basically come down to size.”
Chapter Three
Death walks into a bar…in Port Townsend, Washington.
Where's the punchline?
Killian Bane claimed the table in the shadowy corner, his back to the wall, where he could sit and watch. Not much happening in the bar since it was well before happy hour. He checked the clock over the bar. He was about four hours ahead of schedule.
Guess I'm the punchline.
He stretched out his long legs, clad in black denim and black leather boots, crossing them at the ankles. A sleepy seaside town with an artistic, hippie bent with a population had no idea Death had arrived.
He was tired of waiting. So fucking tired. He hoped to God or the Devil or the freaking goddesses—since they were apparently dealing with witches this time—that this was finally the actual Apocalypse.
He was supposed to meet up with his brothers later, but he'd made good time and decided a few drinks—maybe a good lay—would put him in the right frame of mind to deal with the Three Horsemen who'd failed in their duty and now required he step in.
How hard was it to kill one witch? There were four to choose from.
Death was inevitable. Everyone, even these prophesized witches, had an expiration date. Didn't matter who you were or how you lived your life, Death came for you at some point.
The amiable waitress came up to him with a loose-hipped walk that seemed effortless. She was petite, with a Cupid's bow mouth that he could put to work. Blond ringlets were artfully styled and he enjoyed that she didn't oversell her sexuality. In fact, she played up her goodness which was a facade. Clever. He looked deeper into her soul, and evil shivered over him. When her time came, she was headed to Hell.
Never ceased to amaze him. Now the big bald, tattooed and pierced biker mixing drinks behind the bar looked like he'd just graduated from Demon High with honors, and he was headed to Heaven.
“Welcome to Port Townsend,” the waitress greeted. “You must be new to town because I haven't seen you around. My name is Angelica—”
Of course it was.
“—but you can call me Angel. What might I get you…to drink?” Clearly she was up for more if he'd prefer.
“I'll take a Cardinal Sin.”
“Which one?” Her pretense slid off like a stripper flashed with a greenback. “I'm a fan of all seven myself, but looking at you all I can think about is lust.”
Yeah, she'd do in a pinch, but he was tired of her flavor of the month. He was in the mood for something different. Someone like…
Her.
In walked a rose, a blue moon rose to be more exact. He swore he could smell her from here. Dressed in shades of lavender with slate blue hues, she brightened and revived the bar with her very presence. He heard a slight jingling in his ears and knew it came from the Bohemian enchantress. It was like someone had opened a window and let the sun shine into a room that had continued to darken, smothering the life out of it.
She was life.
“Excuse me.” He stood, not taking his eyes off the vision in vintage clothing, her hands clutching the strap of her purse. “My…woman has arr
ived,” he growled the word woman already staking claim.
He strode toward her, radiating vibrations of possession to every heterosexual male in the vicinity. A man who'd set a trajectory toward her changed direction as Killian approached.
Good call.
She smelled like Heaven, and Killian helplessly inhaled the sweet, spicy scent of roses and lavender into his lungs, his nostrils flaring as her fragrance infused his brain, resulting in an instant high.
His hand clamped down on her arm. “Come with me.”
Her wide, green eyes met his and he instinctively gazed into her soul. Where was she headed? Heaven or Hell. Not that he really cared overly much as long as she detoured to his bed first.
But something was different here.
Killian drove deeper…and saw nothing, felt nothing, other than an overwhelming desire to know more about her. That had never happened before. He probed further and still nothing. It was like her life hadn't been written yet. He hardened.
“What?” she asked, her voice husky and seductive.
“You're here for me,” he stated.
“I am?” Artfully shaped brows rose in surprise.
“You just don't know it yet.”
Her hair was that dark bewitching shade of red that strained to burgundy. Rare and rich and thick with waves, it cascaded down to her back. He had the irresistible urge to twist the length around his arm and carry her off by her hair. It had been a long time since he'd embraced his beast, but with her he wanted to roar, mark, and take. Instead, he pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her toward his table, the strands of her silky hair caressing his forearm. He bit back a groan, and needed to know how it felt to have her hair caress other parts of him.
“Is that like some kind of come-on?” she asked, her bee-stung lips lifted in a challenge.
Oh, you are so on.
“Would you rather I say something boring like, 'Can I buy you a drink?'“
“Actually, yes. I would prefer a drink to the manhandling,” she said.
“All right. We'll play it your way.” And then we'll play it mine. He dropped his hand from the curve of her back and immediately missed the connection.
He held out a chair for her to sit. “What would you like to drink?” There was no question. He was buying this woman a drink, and then later he was going to get lost in her.
“Uhm, wine?” She bit the bottom of her lip and seemed surprised that she'd gathered her skirts and sat in the chair he'd offered.
He wasn't surprised. She emanated heat, a ripeness, yet, there was shyness that rode along with the others, making her even more intriguing.
Slowly he folded his tall length in the seat across from her. “You don't sound sure of what you want.” He needed her to know exactly what was happening here. A woman like her didn't enter a bar in the middle of the day unless she needed a man. And while he was that man, and planned to do his best to talk her into seeing things his way, he never took what wasn't his to take.
“I don't drink much,” she admitted. “I mainly stick to wines that I make at home. I concoct a lovely rose petal infused wine.”
“Rose water?” Did that explain how heavenly she smelled? Did she bathe in it?
“No.” She gave him a slight husky laugh that quivered over him like the first brushes of a bow stroking the string of a violin. “A rose petal wine,” she continued. “It's very smooth and has this amazing floral finish.”
“I’d bet you'd have a fucking amazing floral finish.” The words were out of his mouth before he could swallow them.
She blinked, her jeweled-green eyes flashing with a mixture of uncertainty and interest. “You're bad, aren't you?” Suddenly her diffidence was gone.
“So bad.” He couldn't keep back the predatory smile. “So very bad that I'll be the best you've ever had.”
A breath escaped her in a rush and the interest sparking in her eyes flared to fascination. “Promise?”
His heart slammed in his chest and it was his turn to have the air rush out of his lungs.
The waitress chose that moment to return with the drink he'd already forgotten he'd ordered. “Is there anything else I can get you,” she asked, her demeanor much cooler than before.
“The lady will have an Orgasm,” Killian said.
“Can I have more than one?”
There she went again. He couldn't take his eyes off this enthralling woman who clenched her cream-colored wrap like a virgin, yet said such provocative things.
“Make that a Screaming Orgasm,” he ordered.
The waitress—whatever her name was, he'd forgotten already—left with a flounce of her short skirt.
Leaning across the table, he traced the lacy, scalloped edge of her top with his finger, thrilling at the goose bumps that rose on her creamy skin. “I will give you as many orgasms as you can take.”
“I don't want to sound naïve, but what's in a Screaming Orgasm?” she whispered.
“Me.”
Her eyes widened. They were the color and clarity of priceless emeralds. She had the eyes reported of Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty. He had a moment of indecision. While it was in his nature to be bold, he wondered if he'd taken things too far. “Vodka, Irish cream, and Kahlua.”
“I'm not much of a coffee fan, more of a tea drinker.” She eyed the drink as it was set down in front of her.
“Try it.” The dare was implied by his tone.
“I'm not going to give you my phone number,” she blurted out as if needing to create boundaries.
“I didn't ask for it.” But by the end of the day, she'd give him everything he would ask of her.
“Well…good.” She picked up her cocktail and took a sip, her mouth twisting with distaste. “Yeah, not a fan.” She set the drink aside. “I should have gone with a simple wine.”
“Trade me.”
“What is it?”
“Cardinal Sin.” He slid his glass toward her. “Four parts rum, amaretto, triple sec, lime juice, and grenadine.”
She bit her lip again, and then something made her pick up his glass. Gingerly she took a sip, her eyes widening in surprise. “This I like.”
“It's settled then. I'll take your Screaming Orgasm and you get my Cardinal Sin.”
She took another deep draw from his drink.
“You might want to sip that slower,” he warned. If wine was her drink, this was going to hit her hard. But it was too late. She drained and set the empty glass down on the table.
“If it's all right with you, I'd like to be taken in the woods.” She waved her hand as if to discount her words and explained, “I mean, I enjoy nature, and it's a beautiful afternoon to have…an interlude…outdoors.”
She was delightful. “This isn't some Blair Witch Project?” he half-heartedly joked, signaling for the bill.
“What witch?”
“Doesn't matter. Aren't you afraid to be alone with me in the woods? You know nothing about me.”
“You know nothing about me,” she countered. “It's kind of an even playing field.”
And straightforward, which he found stimulating. His blood thickened. “True. We could start with each other's names.”
“We could. But wouldn't that make assumptions that this was more than today?”
“You do have a point.” There was another level of excited mystery not knowing who she was even though everything inside him begged that he find out. Now. This was the most turned on he'd been in…centuries.
If ever.
****
Tierra hadn't stopped trembling with sexual excitement from the first moment of his touch. Never had she been more in tuned with her own sexuality. Not even on the solstice. He made her feel dangerous and special and beyond desirable. Powerful.
He was not handsome. That was too tame a word for how he looked. More like mesmerizing.
His hair was pitch-dark and she wanted to bury her hands in it like she did the rich soil she cultivated to grow her herbs. It was c
ut short to avoid the curl that was still present in the thickness. A few days stubble outlined his chiseled jaw, and eyes the color of obsidian seemed to see right into her soul, as if he knew what she wanted, needed.
His snug, black t-shirt outlined the muscles in his upper torso and his dark jeans hugged his trunk-like thighs. There was even a leather jacket hanging off the back of his chair.
He made her…thirsty. She licked her lips and the blackness of his eyes immediately scorched where they landed on her exposed skin.
Tierra shifted in her seat. Everything felt…swollen, wet, and hot. His nostrils flared again like he could smell her mounting desire. It was disconcerting and more of a turn on than she'd ever thought. He looked at her like he needed to know her inside and out. And would. Her clothes rubbed against her skin, making her want to tear them off.
He worried her a little, though. Less, now that she'd downed his drink. Maybe she should order another?
Loosening the wrap from around her shoulders, she thrilled at how his eyes dropped with the fabric. She didn't have on anything revealing, but suddenly she wished she'd worn something cutoff like Moira did. She wanted him to see her naked. Yearned for him to touch her, take her, brand her.
Holy Mother of Earth. What was she thinking? Brand her, really? No man branded her. But she knew on some level that he would. She'd never be the same if she slept with him.
She should pick someone else.
That nice businessman who'd caught her eye when she'd first entered Sirens would be a better, safer choice.
But not memorable.
Hell, even if she didn't sleep with the dark, mysterious man across from her, she doubted she'd be able to forget him.
“Shall we go?” he growled. He tensed, and her pulse raced.
This was it. Did she want to go through with it?
If she wanted to know what sex was all about, this man dressed in black was the one to initiate her. He'd teach her more in one coupling than she'd learn with a dozen or more men. Might even discover the sexual power that Claire had hung in front of her like a carrot. She already felt more powerful just in his presence.
“Yes,” she said before she lost her nerve. She stood up too fast and wavered on her feet.
Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend) Page 27
