THE WITCH AND THE VAMPIRE

by Fawn Lowery

  He stood well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and well-muscled legs. He was clad in knee-length black velvet britches and matching coat. A white shirt was open at his throat. Ronna locked gazes with him, assaulted by the virility and raw masculinity she saw in the depths of his coal black eyes. He smiled at her—making her stomach pitch

  “I am in your debt.”

  Ronna stared at him, a warning siren going off in her head. Had he really seeped out of the suit of armor in the form of gray mist and taken shape before her eyes?

  I must stop drinking!

  He chuckled, cocked one dark brow at her.

  A new wave of surprise filtered through Ronna.

  You dare to think that I am a figment of your imagination because you consumed a bottle of wine?

  “Are you reading my mind?” Her voice sounded shaky.

  He bowed to her, bending slowly at the waist and lowering his head. His long dark hair fell about his shoulders, obscuring his face. When he raised his head next, a wayward lock hung loosely across his forehead, giving him a devil-may-care appearance.

  Ronna sucked in a quick breath at the sight. She was a sucker for bad boys.

  “Telepathy is a gift between two soul mates.”

  “Soul mates?” She stared at him, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t made him up. He was real—absolutely real regardless of how he had come to be right before her eyes. And he was downright gorgeous. She tightened her fingers around the amulet, baffled by the turn of events.

  “It is rare indeed, when one finds his life’s mate.” He stared at her, a smile forming on his face.

  He was quite handsome. Dark, chiseled features accentuated by shoulder-length black hair. A strong chin and high cheekbones called exquisite attention to deep-set ebon eyes. Full lips pursed in a slight smile as he wafted his inspecting gaze over Ronna’s robe-clad body.

  She finally managed to move, shifting her bare feet to take a step back. He seemed to be warning her with his very presence—standing there looking at her as if she were a piece of meat and his appetite was raging out of control.

  “Who are you and why are you here?”

  His dress was of a time long past. An era when men wore velvet pants and silk stockings reaching to the knee. He looked neither foreign to the clothing nor comfortable in it—he appeared dressed as for a celebration since his hair and rough-hewn features belied a man of a much more roughed type. Ronna shivered inwardly—assessing the front of his velvet britches. A sizable bulge was visible and though she wasn’t as familiar with the opposite sex as she sometimes wished she was, she knew from her brief sexual encounters that the bulge meant an erection of sizable proportions lay just beneath his pants.

  “I am Marcus Sutherland, Duke of Morganford.”

  A short giggle leapt from Ronna’s throat. She raised one hand and clasped it across her mouth.

  “And I’m here because you awakened me.”

  His slow smile disarmed her.

  A blond brow lifted.

  “Holy cow!”

  He chuckled. “I must thank you for having such a healthy curiosity. Your hand on my cock was quite inviting—and much needed.”

  A wave of alarm suddenly overtook her, making her knees weak. She sank onto the couch, her eyes pinned on him.

  “This can’t really be happening.” She tilted her head and stared at him, wondering if perhaps she was having double vision or… “I don’t believe for one fucking minute that I awakened you by grabbing your cock or that you came out of that rusty suit of armor.” She frowned at him. “Is this a joke?”

  He smiled at her and shook his head. “You rescued me from a fate worse than death.” He sighed and looked away.

  Sadness seemed to overcome his dark features. Ronna felt the wave of intense remorse that seemed to grip him like an iron fist. It surged through her mind like a wave of bitter regret and just as quickly, vanished, leaving her wondering.

  “You felt my thoughts.” He turned his head slowly, locking gazes with her.

  His words were more statement than question. Ronna didn’t know whether to reply or order him to leave her home. Puzzlement gathered anew inside her. She felt a new awareness travel through her insides—an awareness that lent itself to fear and sexual warning.

  “I don’t understand what has happened.” She swallowed to ease her suddenly dry throat. Her body was becoming more and more aware of him—of his virility, his male sensuality that seemed to reach out to her, drawing her into an invisible web of his own making.

  Suddenly he took a step toward her.

  “Stay back! One more step and I’ll turn you into a toad!”

  He halted his feet and looked at her, a shocked expression wreathing his features.

  Shaking, Ronna scrambled off the couch and scurried to the far side of the room. With any luck, she could cast a spell that would at least shackle his feet together—she didn’t know for sure whether she could turn him into a toad or not—

  He laughed loudly, throwing back his head and bellowing into the wide room.

  “No shackles please.” He smiled broadly. “But I find the notion of becoming a toad quite interesting.”

  She cocked her head at him. “’’Cause you know damn well I’m not sure I can do it.” She smiled in spite of things.

  She eyed him, her gaze traveling along his body in inspecting waves of appraisal. Should he have come to her under any other circumstance—well, she felt her nipples growing taut beneath the silk robe.

  “You are aroused.”

  A blond brow lifted. She shook her head, sending her long ponytail brushing across her shoulders. She started to deny his statement then thought better of the idea. It would hardly do her any good to lie—since he obviously knew her thoughts. She frowned at him, wondering what she should do next.

  “Remove your robe.”

  “I don’t think so.” She propped both hands on her hips.

  “Your arousal will only become stronger.”

  He smiled slowly, seductively, as his eyes held hers in a heated stare.

  Ronna felt a new surge of heat rush through her veins. Lust burned white-hot through her insides. She felt sweat pop out on her forehead, her breathing quickened. Her crotch felt wet. She raised her hands and gripped the front of her robe.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  He reached out one hand and beckoned to her. “Come to me.”

  Her will was not her own. She felt the force emanating from his body—the intensity with which he reached out to her. It was alarming and all consuming—yet erotic and filled with sexual promise. She wanted to refuse—but found her willpower flagging with such haste that her breath caught in her throat. An uncanny desire to strip out of her robe and panties came over her like a flash of lightening lighting the nighttime sky—quickly and totally—without any hint of warning.

  Her hands shook as she pulled the front of her robe aside and exposed her bare breasts. In a trance-like state, she pushed the robe off her shoulders and allowed it to slide along her body to pile in a soft heap at her feet.

  “Come to me.”

  He waved his hand slightly and she had no control over her body. Her senses were his to command. She felt totally vexed—as though some force she had never encountered before was consuming her. She moved toward him, her arms lax at her sides, her feet sliding along the polished floor in uncertain steps.

  “Do not try to fight me—I am stronger than you.”

  His voice seeped into her mind, a tone that comforted and stroked her feminine senses until her fright began to subside. She pulled in a long breath, feeling his heated gaze wafting along her bare body. He paused, his dark gaze on her breasts, making her nipples peak and jut forward in want of his touch.

  Ronna’s heart hammered in her chest. She drew near him, her breasts within inches of the front of his jacket. Her eyes rose to travel along the bare expanse of muscled chest visible thought the opening of his shirtfront, rising to follow the i
mpressive arc of his throat to the deep cleft in his chin. His skin was dark, as though he were of Italian ancestry, though there was a pallor lying beneath. Her gaze continued upward, to his full lips, then to his high cheekbones. A Roman nose lent distinction to his male features. Incredibly inky black eyes were deep set amidst a fringe of long black lashes. Gently arched brows rose slightly as he watched her inspect his face. A slight curve to his lips revealed his amusement.

  His hand settled on her bare shoulder, cool and smooth, as though he were unaffected by the summertime heat engulfing the room. His touch seemed to gentle the warning siren going off inside her—soothed her in an unusual way—a way foreign to her body. She sighed, an audible release that made her breasts jiggle and draw his gaze downward along her body.

  He raised one hand and stroked her hair, releasing the ponytail on the back of her head without effort. Her long blond hair cascaded about her shoulders, covering his hand on her shoulder and falling softly across her left breast. With barely a movement, he lifted the shimmering tresses in his fingers and brought them to his nose. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair—an incredibly erotic gesture for a man to do. Ronna felt her belly curl at the sensual intimacy the action brought to mind.

  Slowly, he allowed the golden tresses to fan across his palm and slide gently off his fingertips. His dark eyes caught the play of waning sunlight through the silken strands as they fell softly against Ronna’s rounded breasts. His gaze lingered for a moment before rising to waft across her face. With one fingertip, he traced along the arch of her cheek and onto the fullness of her bottom lip.

  She felt imprisoned—unable to withdraw from neither his touch—nor wanting it to end. A deep measure of intense craving began inside her very core, heated, demanding, not to be overlooked. It made no sense—yet she failed to summon the courage to argue the fact.

  Her body leaned toward his, brushing his velvet jacket with her taut nipples and feeling the sexual pull of his hard erection beneath his britches. Every fiber of her being wanted his hands on her, wanted his touch, cried out for his attention.

  His hand rose to stroke her throat, his fingers curling about the slim arc with a light, yet possessive touch that made her close her eyes and sigh gently. She leaned her head back, as though obeying his will. She felt lightheaded. Anticipation welled up inside her.

  His fingers curled about her neck, his thumb traced the pulse racing just beneath the silken flesh, his palm settled along her nape. He held her fast, yet she sensed she could move should she choose to. She had no desire to leave his touch, to separate herself from his gentle hand. She leaned her body against the sturdy wall of his chest, drawing his fragrance into her lungs. He smelled earthy, as though coming from the forest. A fleeting thought careened thought her mind.

  He is not of this world.

  Do not fret. I mean you no harm.

  He pressed her body to his suddenly and lowered her to the floor. Her underwear seemed to disappear in a second as she settled against the coolness beneath her back. Her eyelids wafted open, to glimpse him shedding his clothes. He came to her, muscular, naked, his cock engorged with male juice. She reached out her arms in welcome, her legs opening as though familiar with his body.

  His skin was cool against the heat of hers. His hands slid beneath her back, pinning her breasts against his chest and raising her buttocks so he could ram his hard cock inside her tight womanly sheath. She felt the fullness he brought to her body, the lunging thrusts as he worked his cock deeper and deeper inside her body. His hand moved up her back, his palm at her nape once more.

  She arched her throat, opening her mouth and panting as his thrusts brought her quickly to the brink of ecstasy. Exquisite sensations began in her belly and curled along her limbs, spiraling throughout her nerve endings, sending her senses spinning out of control. She pulled in a deep breath as the climax bore down on her body, gasping as the feelings grew in intensity.

  His head lowered, his thumb found her pulse. She felt his lips nuzzle her neck, his tongue lathe her silken skin.

  The orgasm came full-bloom—skyrocketing throughout her body in exquisite shards of electric bolts—

  His teeth sank into her throat—an exquisite sting mingling with the erotic sensations of orgasm—adding depth and exquisite hurt that somersaulted into an unbelievable triumph of melded flesh and shared union. She released a low mew as the sensations overtook her mind and flooded her body with never before sensations. She closed her eyes and savored the multitude of rippling vibrations that shot along her limbs.

  She writhed beneath his body. His head was at her throat, her life’s blood flowing from her vein. He drank. When he sated himself, he gently lathed the pinpricks with his tongue, closing the marks over her vein. He trailed hot kisses along the arch of her throat to the corner of her mouth. His lips sealed over hers.

  She couldn’t resist his kisses—though she knew he had bitten her—taken blood from her body to sustain his own. Her mind reeled with questions but his mouth took from her lips all she had to give and then some. His tongue poked into her mouth, stroking gently along her gum and sending shockwaves along her limbs. Her body still harbored the waning sensations of orgasm—still felt the lingering warmth his body generated atop hers. She tightened her arms around his waist, pinning his powerful muscular form against her soft curves.

  His hand moved from beneath her head and traveled along her side, then rose upward to toy with her breast. She sighed and thrust her nipple against his palm. His fingers tweaked the taut bud, bringing a new bout of tingles to her already sensitive nerves. His fingers splayed, his palm caressed—

  She felt his fist clench and realized he had taken hold of the amulet she wore at her neck. She jerked her eyes open—a question filling her mind—moments before he gave the amulet a jerk and she felt a turbulent whirlwind engulf her body.

  “What the hell—“

  CHAPTER 3

  Lightening flashed and thunder pounded the heavens. The very floor shook as the magic rolled over their bodies, tumbling and arching in electrified bolts. Ronna felt her senses reel, her body contort and disfigure as she was spun into a vortex of blackness. Noises unfamiliar to her ears nearly deafened her, spiraling shards of amber light shot outward from the north, the south, the east, and the west. She felt a scream tear from her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut as a force heavy with warning and fright gripped her insides.

  She felt heavy, her body laden with an unknown force. She tried to raise her head. She tried to open her eyes. Her limbs ached. Her throat felt bruised. Her head pounded. She pulled in a long breath and let the assaulting feelings engulf her body.

  * * * *

  Ronna feared opening her eyes. She could hear voices—unfamiliar voices that slowly penetrated her conscious state. She felt as though she had been beaten, her body ached in unfamiliar places. She lay still and listened, trying to understand what had happened to her. The last she remembered, she was drinking wine in her living room—drinking wine and trying to decide whether to clean a suit of medieval armor she had bought for Pam’s housewarming gift.

  She slowly lifted her lashes, peering tentatively at her surroundings. It was dim in the room where she lay, her body uncomfortably sprawled on something quite lumpy. She blinked her eyes, staring at the ceiling. There were large wooden beams suspended overhead. A jolt of surprise shot through her insides. She rolled her head to one side, following the stream of moonlight filtering into the area. Her gaze fell on a small arched window with a stone ledge.

  She levered herself upright, her heart pounding in her chest. “This has got to be a joke.”

  She turned her head from side to side, feeling soreness at her nape. The walls of the room appeared to be made of stone blocks, roughly fashioned with gray mortar visible between them. It was cold. She shivered as she swung her feet over the side of the bed. She was naked and quickly dragged a fur coverlet across the bed to cover herself. She felt dizzy and decided not to try and stand. A weakness
seemed to settle inside her body. She stared at her surroundings, trying to make sense of what had happened to her. She was in a room she had never seen before. It was stark in gray evening light, with only the bed she sat on and a small table sitting at its head. She began to shiver at the notion that something terrible had happened to her.

  She heard a noise—a footfall—and turned her head toward the door of the room. A rough-hewn wooden door with metal latch was shut. She stared in question as the noise beyond the door sounded nearer.

  The door opened suddenly and the apparition she had last seen in her living room strode in. Suddenly the memory of having sex with him flooded her mind. She sucked in a quick breath and clutched the fur coverlet to her breasts, her eyes pinned to his large form as he crossed the room to her.

  “You are awake.”

  She combed one hand through her hair, pushing the heavy mass over one bare shoulder. He looked different than when he seeped out of the suit of armor in her living room—

  A million years ago.

  He smiled at her and offered her the pewter mug he held. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

  “What happened?” She hesitated to take the tankard from him, merely stared and wondered as he drew closer. He was dressed in rough cotton britches and loose fitting tunic. His black hair was secured at his nape with a black cord. And he seemed to have lost that paleness she had noticed about him at first. He seemed robust and virile…the perfect man to…

  “You seduced me.”

  She clutched the coverlet to her breasts and scooted back on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest.

  “You seduced me…and now I wake up here. Where in hell am I?”

  Her anger didn’t go unnoticed by her host, though he appeared to discount it rather quickly with a smile in her direction. He sat down on the side of the bed and offered her the tankard again.

  “You need to regain your strength. Please drink this.”

  Please?

  Ronna eyed the large mug as he pushed it at her hands. For the life of her she couldn’t imagine what was in it or why he continued to insist she drink it. She felt her head pound—as though she had awakened from a night of drinking. She reached out and took the mug, bringing it to her lips.