by Fawn Lowery
“The year of our Lord, eleven-eighty-five.”
His voice echoed in the large open space. She felt a chill travel up her spine as she tried to imagine the reality of her situation.
“This is like a bad dream—only with incredible sex.”
He chuckled behind her and placed one hand on her waist, steering her toward the hearth at the end of the room.
“Tell me, is sex more…enjoyable for you—because you are a witch?”
She giggled and shot an inquisitive glance at him over one shoulder.
“How in hell should I know?” Though it was extremely dim in the room, she glimpsed the surprised look on his face. It dawned on her then that his question had more to do with something pertaining to him, than her. “So, are you in the habit of fucking witches?”
He chuckled and led her to a large chair near the fireplace.
“All my conquests haven’t been witches.” He cocked his head at her. “But I find those with special powers to like their sex hot and extremely wild.”
She instantly imagined him in bed with a vixen—arms and legs tangled, mouths licking and nipping, seminal fluid in places it wouldn’t likely be thought to be found. She felt a flush of heat rise inside her just imagining the wickedness this handsome vampire could bestow upon an unsuspecting female.
And the ecstasy he could reap!
He leaned close to her ear as she lowered her body into the chair near the fireplace.
Shall we set a date for our next rendezvous?
Ronna smiled, realizing he knew her thoughts. The notion that her mind was an open book to him gave her pause. On the one hand, if they should be soul mates, as he insisted they were, they could always be as one.
That could be a good thing—or not. I don’t particularly like the notion that you would be aware of my thoughts even when I go to the restroom.
Restroom?
“Toilet, Marcus. Toilet.”
“Ahhh. The chamber pot.”
“God forbid!”
“Your Lordship.”
Ronna jerked her head around, suddenly aware that someone had joined them in the large room. She saw a woman standing near the back of the room. She bowed slightly and came forward only when Marcus gestured to her.
“Milady. The venison is very good tonight.”
The woman was dressed in a dark colored loosely fitted shift. She had dark shoulder length hair and a thin, weathered face. She curtsied to Ronna and presented the tray she carried to her.
Ronna took the tray and set it on her lap. A metal plate heaped with hot meat sat in its middle along with a piece of crusty bread at its edge. She stared at the food, realizing Marcus had ordered she be fed a meal and that the woman should bring it to her. She turned a smiling face to the woman but before she could convey her thanks, Marcus was waving her away.
“Eat. Your strength has not yet returned.”
“Aren’t you dining with me?”
The moment she uttered the words, she regretted doing so.
Marcus looked away. “I haven’t tasted the food of man for nearly a century.” He strode across the room, becoming barely a faint shadow in the pale light of the fire.
Ronna felt compelled to try the meat. It smelled quite appealing. She reached into the plate with her fingers having realized that the woman hadn’t brought any eating utensils, and picked up a shard of meat. She placed it in her mouth and began to chew, noticing that the taste was very different from any meat she had ever tried.
No preservatives.
She ate more than she thought she would and just as she was getting up to dispose of the tray and plate, Marcus appeared. He carried a large book and laid it on the table in the room.
“This book belongs to Drucella. I stole it from her after she imprisoned my brother Jarharis. I had hoped to unlock the spell she cast over him…”
Ronna turned to the large leather—backed book Marcus placed on the table. A cloud of dust loomed around it as it plopped on the table, causing Ronna to wave one hand to clear the air.
“This is a book of spells? This is a book of spells that belongs to…to a witch that I might be related to?” She could hardly contain her emotions. The very sight of something so old and akin to her in any way thrilled her beyond reason. She reached a tentative hand toward it then paused.
There was a noticeable sting to the air surrounding the book. She pulled back and stared at the old relic. The dust had cleared, but something else had replaced its stifling aura. There was no telltale sight of any force field surrounding the book, or a murky shield of non-entry cast about its weathered backing. She leaned closer and inspected the yellowed edges of its pages.
“The book is protected from others with a ring of fire.”
CHAPTER 5
Marcus sighed and combed his fingers through his dark hair. “I so hoped you would be able to unlock the magic of the book and set my brothers free.”
Ronna felt an overwhelming sadness engulf her. She bit her bottom lip, searching for words to soothe him.
“Drucella has cast a protective spell around the book. It has a halo of fire. I cannot get near it. It holds great threat for me.” I would burst into flames like a roman candle on the Fourth of July.
He tugged her into his arms, hugging her tightly against his chest. “I will protect you with my life. I swear. No harm shall come to you.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. His body was so sturdy, she leaned into his strength, closing her eyes and nestling her cheek against his shoulder. She pulled his earthy fragrance into her lungs, feeling the aroma soothe her emotions.
She felt compelled to help him—somehow. She tried to think of some spell that might release the book from the halo of fire commanding it. She sighed. She wasn’t such a good witch when it came to knowing her craft. She opened her eyes and stared at the old book lying on the massive wooden table. Could the book be her legacy?
She pushed out of Marcus' arms, feeling the chill of the room engulf her body. Perhaps there was a spell that she could use, much like the one she cast on the customers shopping in The Witches’ Nook. She shrugged her shoulders. It was worth a try.
She approached the book with caution, her ears alert for anything sounding remotely like the crackle of fire—even a witch’s fire lent itself to sizzle and spark. Once, when she had first opened her shop, she had a visit from a local woman who claimed to a witch. She smiled at the memory. The old woman had inspected the oddball gifts in her shop and proclaimed that her business would fail—that she would not allow any other witch to peddle her wares in her coven.
Ronna had been more confused by the old woman’s visit than anything else. Shortly afterward, she began casting spells of need on the customers who entered the shop. If a customer showed interest in one item over another, Ronna bid them to buy, making them feel as though they could not leave the building without having that item in their possession. It was comical to watch at times. Once she had bid a man to purchase every lantern in the shop to light his backyard—even though he confessed to living near downtown, where the streetlights were always lit and his property seemed to be in perpetual daylight.
She raised her hands and held her palms over the book. The sting of fire scorched her flesh, warning of its potential danger. She slowly moved her hands, silently chanting a spell to change the fire into smoldering embers, then into ash.
The fire began to lessen, the heat against her palms waning by degrees. She continued to chant, to lessen the spell’s affects. Satisfaction began to settle inside her body. She lowered her palms, growing bolder, feeling more confident.
Suddenly a shower of sparks rose from the old book, shooting toward the ceiling and encompassing Ronna in their arcing spray. She shrieked and drew back, stumbling toward the fireplace behind her. A shard of fright tore through her body. Magically, a flash of amber fire sparked right before her eyes—displaying the face of a woman extremely distraught.
Ronna stumbled and recovered only when
Marcus' strong arms caught her. She went limp, her body leaning into the massive strength of his. She felt drained, her abilities suffering terrible shock. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and suddenly darkness overtook her senses.
* * * *
“Milady? Milady?”
The voice was soft and melodious, coming to Ronna as she tried to surface from the pool of blackness she had sank into. She tried to respond, tried to open her eyes, tried to make her addled brain remember what had happened.
She opened her eyes to see the maid who had brought her the venison earlier in the evening. She stood over her like a gentle nurse, concern on her wrinkled face and compassion in her dark eyes. She stroked Ronna’s hand.
“What happened?”
“I do not know, Milady. His Lordship merely ordered me to tend you.” She released Ronna’s hand and placed a wet cloth on her forehead. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Ronna sat up, finding she was lying on the end of the long table in the great room, the old book near her feet. She grasped the cold cloth the woman placed on her head and scanned the room. “Where is Marcus?”
The woman withdrew immediately, bowing as she backed away. “His Lordship has to go into the village. He will return before sunrise.”
Her words brought cold chills to Ronna’s spine. Marcus had gone out to feed.
He’s a blood-sucking vampire!
My sweet. I do not wish you to think of me in that manner.
Ronna stiffened, fright rising inside her. She had sex with him—fell under his spell and ended up in this God-forsaken place—
You are not of this world. You frighten me. I’m only a little witch from Brooklyn—I want to go home!
Not yet. You must help me first.
She sensed his heart was very laden at her request. She swung her feet over the side of the table and jumped to the floor. The room was empty. The woman servant had disappeared. The old book lay inches away, threatening menace. She stifled a shiver and backed toward the fireplace.
What have I gotten myself into?
You ask questions that I have no answers for, my sweet Ronna.
I’m not so sure I like this mind reading!
It is rare indeed—very rare for a man to know the thoughts of his beloved.
Ronna held her emotions at bay, trying to keep her mind blank. How could this be possible? How could one person know the thoughts of another—even when they were apart?
She felt Marcus sigh, as though he were right there with her. Quickly she spun around, searching the dimly lit room for him. The blackness was void of any presence. She raised her hands and rubbed her arms. Despite the warmth of the cashmere sweater and the roaring fire at her back, she felt a coldness that chilled her to the bone.
She began to pace. She hadn’t felt so alone since she left the orphanage and set out on her own. Even then she had a plan. Now she seemed to be in limbo—except for the menacing presence of Marcus Morganford.
Whoever he is!
You wound me, my sweet. I shall return and we shall get to know each other.
Ronna let out a huff of air. If there was one thing she couldn’t tolerate—it was a conceited man. No doubt Marcus would return and seduce her again—take her upstairs to that uncomfortable bed and have sex with her. She sighed. Well, maybe she’d have a surprise for him when he finally came home.
CHAPTER 6
He appeared all at once—quietly and without warning. Ronna neither felt his presence nor glimpsed him in the room—nor had he announced his coming to her telepathically. He was merely there, standing before her, his posture confident and erect.
“You scared the hell out of me. Why didn’t you warn me? Or are you always in the habit of materializing out of thin air?”
A mental picture of gray mist seeping through the vent of the face shield on the suit of armor suddenly bombarded her. He had many powers—some quite unique.
And others that were extremely frightening.
I am sorry I frightened you. Forgive me.
The fact that he deliberately sent her thought messages when it was not necessary—they were face to face in the same room—told her he was merely exerting his powers over her. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up in alarm. Had she no privacy from this man? She turned suddenly, and strode across the room, putting herself in shadow. Perhaps it was time she gave him a little taste of her powers—just to let him know that she wasn’t a total klutz when it came to witchcraft.
A blond brow lifted. She thought of ropes and clamps and suddenly the force sprang into reality. A whirl of magic spun out, shooting in lightening sharp shards of amber and rose glinting from her outstretched hand. Marcus started toward her, took only a few steps in her direction, before the force engulfed his big body. He was propelled across the room, rising off the floor slightly before landing with an audible thud in one of the large wooden chairs sitting near the hearth. Binding ropes circled his wrists and ankles, pinning him securely to the arms and legs of the chair.
He chuckled, a low rumble that echoed into the vast room. “My sweet, you are wanting to play?”
Ronna propped both hands on her hips and strode in his direction. A feeling of confidence rose inside her. Marcus was securely bound and it would take an act short of hell fire to release him. She smiled slowly as she locked gazes with him.
“I want to know all about you, Marcus Morganford. And I don’t trust you to answer my questions without you changing the subject and seducing me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re confined to one place—“
He chuckled and shook his head. “Very well, my sweet. What is it you wish to know?”
She leveled her gaze on him. Was she to be fooled by his show of compliance? Or was she merely underestimating the force of her own spell?
He laughed again, low in his throat. He flexed his fingers on the arms of the chair. “I assure you, your bindings are quite tight about my wrists and ankles. It would appear I am your captive.”
His voice rang of amusement.
Ronna’s temper flared.
A wave of her hand and his clothing disappeared.
“My sweet—“
How cocky do you feel now?
Cocky? My sweet, I only believe you want to play. See my cock? It is beginning to grow hard with arousal.
Her eyes found the object of his reference. A hard cock standing erect in his lap, like a proud soldier ready to march into battle. She let out a huff of air and turned on her heel, striding across the room.
“How long have you been a vampire?”
Her words seemed to hang in the smoky air for seconds before she heard him sigh. She glimpsed his hands flexing on the arms of the chair, felt his impatience.
“Marcus, how did you become a vampire? Do you feed on the people of this village? Is it true that you murder people for their blood?”
He released a laden sigh.
Ronna felt his grief, strong, dark, and regrettable in a profound way. She bit her bottom lip, anguish rising upward in her gut at her harsh treatment of him. She rushed across the room, kneeling at the chair where he was tied hand and foot.
“Answer my questions, Marcus, so that I can release you.” There was pleading in her tone, a note that sprang from his remorse at being a vampire.
“I once befriended a man named Darrias. He was a merchant who traveled the world.” He sighed. “One evening as Darrias and I shared a tankard of wine, he exerted his power over me. He threw me to the ground and bit my neck. He drank a great deal of my blood and I was quite ill for a number of days. During that time, Darrias remained at my side. I questioned him at great length, for I believed we were friends. Alas, I was neither his friend, nor he mine. On the following eve, I suffered a mortal death at Darrias’ hand.”
She felt the pain of his words—they crushed into her heart like a heavy weight. She felt tears spring to her eyes. She reached out her hand and laid her palm across his bound wrist. At once she felt his pain
subside, pulling back like a gentle tide washing across a sandy beach.
“Ronna, you are the hope I have been searching for since that terrible night.”
She felt puzzled. Her brows pulled together.
“Being as I am, there is no way I can mate with a mortal woman—no way for me to have a family.” He sighed, cocked his head at Ronna. “We are bound by the ability to know each other’s thoughts—to become one regardless of where we are at any given time. For the first time in many years, my emotions have been awakened. I feel as though there is a future for me—us—despite my condemnation of immortality.”
“We had sex, Marcus. Hot, down-and-dirty sex.” Puzzlement intensified inside her. “The fact that we had sex doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together forever.”
“You do not understand. Vampires are doomed to a life of loneliness because of how we must live. Darrias didn’t care whom he turned—but only of his own needs.” He shook his head. “He didn’t stop with only making me a vampire. He attacked my three brothers as they slept in their beds. Night after night he stole into their bedchambers and took of their life’s blood. Soon, one by one, they suffered mortal deaths as I had.”
A cold dread seeped into Ronna’s insides.
“What happened to Darrias? Is he here now?”
Marcus shook his head, spilling his long hair across his bare shoulders. The movement was sensually erotic and didn’t go unnoticed by Ronna’s keen eyes. The dark strands picked up the light from the glow of the hearth and cast a blue-black shadow across his chiseled features. The action turned his remorseful features into those of a virile man, a darkly erotic figure bound in a chair by his lover.
The stark contrast shot through Ronna’s insides. She rose to her feet quickly, almost stumbling backward in a rush to separate herself from the nearness of him. His powers to excite her were far greater than previously imagined.
“Drucella killed Darrias. She found where he slept in the day and drove a stake through his heart.”
Ronna gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. The horror!
