by Fawn Lowery
He was perhaps the most sensual man she had ever met. He had a way of looking at her that turned her bones to mush and when he touched her, she lost all sense of right or wrong. She thought about him more than she should, and hungered for his presence in her life. She shook her head. She felt weary with the ordeal of trying to decide what to do about him. She was too young to be faced with choosing immortality, but on the other hand, what he was offering her was beyond compare. She would always be twenty-eight, never have to see her skin wrinkle and shrivel with old age, never have gray hair—
“But I’d have to bite peoples’ necks and drink their blood. Yuck!”
When she thought of becoming a vampire she couldn’t imagine the consequences of having eternal life. It was one thing to know that her skin would never wrinkle but a completely different bag of tricks to know she would have to live on human blood. The thought made her gag. How could she possibly consider such a thing?
She was suddenly overcome with the desire to leave the medieval time period behind and wish herself home. She clutched the amulet hanging around her neck. All she had to do was think about going home—to wish she were in her living room—
“God! It’s so tempting. I could pretend none of this ever happened. I could return to my shop and resume my life. I could visit with my friends.”
She halted listing her wild wishes and gazed at the yellow gem peeking out between her fingers. Its magical powers would only take a second to transport her back home. And soon it would. But first, she had to find that room and Marcus’ brother. Then she would go home. She would transport herself back among the living.
Her words pained her. It was horrible to think of Marcus as anything less than the man in her life—but he was a vampire and undead. If she returned home right that moment—would she be able to forget him?
“Who am I kidding?”
Tears burned the back of her eyes. What she was contemplating made her sad. But how could she possibly be as Marcus wanted her to be? She couldn’t stand the thought of drinking blood to survive. And the idea that she would really be more dead than alive—well, it was more than she could understand.
“It’s best if I just disappear while Marcus sleeps.”
Knowing he didn’t have the ability to travel to her time period, she would be safe. She would never have to worry about meeting him again. And in time, perhaps, she would be able to put the whole affair behind her.
So, her mind made up, she returned to stand in the center of the spell room. Slowly she gazed about the space, silently chanting the revealing spell that would identify the secret room where Drucella had hidden Chandler. At first she saw nothing unusual taking place. The gray stone walls yielded little past a few cobwebs and cold jutting stone, but then a motion began right before her eyes. The air seemed to waver, moving slowly at first, then expanding as it grew wider and taller. The space grew dark, then ceased movement as the mouth of a room appeared. She sucked in a quick breath.
The wall behind where the long table sat revealed the opening to the secret room. Ronna walked slowly toward it, her breath caught up in her throat. Soon she could be leaving the castle and heading back to her era—if she could just summon the courage to find Chandler and awaken him. She took tentative steps in the direction of the room.
Suddenly she halted her feet, Tiana’s warning coming to mind again. Had the fairy been warning her of the dark one and her difficulty in trying to destroy the viewing pot? Or had she been warning her about trying to awaken the vampire? She stared at the dark opening yawning before her.
What if she became trapped inside the room and couldn’t get out? She hurried to think of a spell that would keep the portal open. And what of the vampire inside? She should cast a spell to prevent him from attacking her when she woke him.
Her temples pounded. Her nerves quivered in anticipation. Of all the adventures—she would never in a million years dream up one of this magnitude. She laughed suddenly. If she was half the witch she should be—well, she would never have fallen under Marcus’ charms and allowed him to get the upper hand over her in the first place.
She shook her head. She was having far too many thoughts of the man.
“He’s a vampire, dammit! Stop thinking of him as merely a man. He’s far beyond any man I’ve ever known.”
She dashed the thoughts from her mind. The situation called for a cool head. She quickly chanted the spell that would keep the door of the room visible and open and then invoked a protective aura around her self so that when she woke Chandler he would be unable to harm her.
Satisfied that the necessary spells were in place, she conjured up a lantern and stepped through the dark opening in the wall of the room.
The space was cold, dank, and completely dark. She inched forward, sliding her feet along the floor. She held the lantern high above her head, trying to see into the space. The cold in the room immediately penetrated her sweater and jeans, making her shiver. Her brows drew together in contemplation. Why had she found each of the secret rooms so cold? What was Drucella thinking when she conjured up the magical spaces? Surely she hadn’t been under the assumption that should anyone manage to open the concealed doorways, they would want to spend any more time inside than absolutely necessary.
She reached a dead end and turned to follow the wall, one hand grazing the cold stone façade. So far she had not encountered anything and was beginning to wonder if she had opened the wrong room. But then, just as she was on the verge of looking for the opening to leave, the light of the lantern fell upon an object.
She paused and drew her light forward, illuminating the object on the floor. Very near the opening of the portal sat a small statue. She set the lantern on the floor and stooped to get a closer look.
“Shit.”
The word leapt from her mouth as she looked upon the small object. It was indeed a statue of a grotesque figure but it was no bigger than a foot high and most definitely too small for a vampire to be hiding in. Puzzlement drew her brows together. It appeared to be the object she had seen in the vision brought by the breaking of Drucella’s amulet.
“This can’t be.”
She picked up the statue and crossed the space to the doorway. Stepping through the portal she immediately closed the room off, taking all risk of anything happening by chance, out of the picture. She carried the statue to the table and sat it down. Backing away, she surveyed the item. It looked like a small, deformed man hunkered down on the top of a turret, its back bent as though it were peering over the edge of where it perched. It didn’t look at all like the vampire she imagined she would find.
Further inspection revealed that the figure had no male cock for her to place her hand on to break Drucella’s spell.
CHAPTER 23
“Well, it’s obvious that Drucella cast some sort of shrinking spell over Chandler else he would never have fit inside the statue.”
She realized she would have to resort to witchcraft to free the vampire but first she had to figure out how to break the shrinking spell. She bit her lip and gazed about the spell room. There were a few jars of herbs left on the table, and she had three pages from the spell book tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.
“They’re burning my ass anyway.”
She pulled the pages free of her pocket and unfolded them. If there was anything of value on the pages, she needed to know it now. The urge to hurry and leave the castle before risking seeing Marcus again was urgent in her mind. She scanned the pages, unable to decipher most of the ingredients listed in the spells, then decided to toss the pages aside. They were useless to her now and she would probably never be able to understand the spells or find the ingredients mentioned.
She held the pages in the air and conjured up a flame. Setting fire to the old pages proved futile however when they seemed to reject the blaze. She watched in wonder as the fire licked along the yellowed edges of the pages, its intense heat unable to scorch the paper. After a little while, she realized the pa
ges weren’t going to burn and blew out the flames.
She studied them again, this time reading each ingredient listed and trying to understand what the significance of each item meant.
One of the spells made sense. Directions became clear about concealing a magic room from the vision of others. Ronna’s jaw dropped. Further reading revealed how to shrink an object.
“Oh come on! This is unreal!”
A blond brow lifted in contemplation.
“What are the odds that these pages would be saved from falling into the viewing pot?”
She realized she was talking to herself. She raised her head and glanced around, hoping no one would answer her foolish statements. Of all the crazy things to happen—
She returned her gaze to the crumpled pages and the scrawled writing. Well, she supposed she should try the spells—
She gathered the ingredients from those remaining on the table, a bit unnerved that each item seemed to be clearly labeled now. She could have sworn the jars held no identifying labels before. She pushed aside the doubt flooding her mind and began assembling the potion. Within seconds a small powdery substance sat in a clay bowl on the table.
According to the written spell, she should sprinkle the powder on the shrunken object and it would magically grow. She smiled at the notion. The act would be something right out of a Disney movie—only with a PG rating.
“Okay, Chandler, if you’re in there—get ready to come out.”
She raised the bowl over the statue sitting on the table and poured the herbal contents on its head. The powdery substance flew every which way when it hit the unyielding surface, flying into the air and falling about the stooped shoulders.
“Bullshit!”
She tossed the bowl at the table and took a step back. Nothing was happening. Maybe the witch’s potions had lost their potency. She scratched her head, dumbfounded. Why had she wasted so much time reading and mixing? Absolutely nothing was happening.
Disappointed, she lifted the statue from the table, with intentions of inspecting it further, when it suddenly shot out of her hand and sailed half way across the room before crashing to the floor. She screamed and raced to the door of the room, then halted her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the statue hadn’t broken into smithereens, but was shimmering and glowing. A rainbow of colors passed over its hard clay surface.
Ronna stared, disbelieving.
The statue had landed on the floor on its side. When the rainbow of colors began to shimmer across its surface, it turned, as though lying on its back. The colors swirled, gathering speed as yellow shimmered into red and violet turned into vivid purple. Soon the dominant dominant red color overtook the others and consumed them.
Blood red and pulsing, the aura gathered and grew until the statue was totally consumed. Ronna blinked her eyes, the urge to draw nearer almost overcoming her. She had never seen the rainbow come and go as she was witnessing. The blood red hue grew and swirled, collapsed and regained strength, concealing the statue completely.
She stepped closer—her curiosity peaked. Obviously the spell from the old book had worked after all—or was in the process of working. She inched closer, wanting to see, needing to see that she had used witchcraft from an ancient spell book successfully.
Suddenly she felt a strong gravitational pull on her body, caught the infraction that propelled her forward. Before she could manage to draw back, she was hurtling forward and crashing into the ruby red swirl. It drew her in, covered her body with its rosy hue.
She felt the urge to scream but at the same time knew it would have no effect on what was happening to her. She reached out one hand and collided with an object that at first was totally foreign—then upon further inspection realized she had her hand on a sturdy chest.
A scream leapt from her throat as she realized the spell had freed Chandler from the statue prison. She pulled her arm back, blinking her eyes against the red blur obscuring her vision.
Hands grabbed her upper arms and pushed her down, pressing her against the cold stone floor. She gasped and found she had no willpower to stop the force overtaking her body. The breath was knocked from her lungs as she hit the hard floor. Within seconds she caught the slight clearing before her eyes to reveal a handsome face hovering just above her own.
“Well, well, well.”
His voice was velvet soft, seductive, alluring. Ronna gazed upward with wide eyes. The face of a very handsome man was mere inches from hers. He gazed down at her with deep-set black eyes. A well-chiseled jaw and high cheekbones accentuated the fall of ebony hair framing his face. His mouth was wide and well proportioned with a bottom lip slightly fuller than the top. He smiled slowly, one corner of his mouth pulling upward as though mocking slightly.
Get a grip!
“You…must be…Chandler.” Her voice was a hoarse croak, straining from her throat in an effort to sound calm.
“You are not Drucella.”
He frowned at her, holding her hands above her head and flattening her body with his weight. His chest pressed against her breasts, forcing her round mounds over the cups of her bra and exposing a good bit of cleavage through the neck of her sweater. His eyes didn’t miss the sight of the creamy orbs or the surprise on her face as he inspected them.
“Let me up. Get off me and let me up.”
“Maybe later.”
She was suddenly aware of the erection pressing between her legs. She sucked in a quick breath. She had no desire to be fucked by Marcus' brother.
Fucked or bitten!
“Now. Let me up now. Get off me.”
She tried to lift her legs, to turn on her side, to wrench her arms free of his powerful hold, to no avail. She was pinned against the floor and at his mercy.
“I can’t remember when I’ve been between the legs of such a desirable wench.” He rubbed his erection against her crotch.
“You wouldn’t remember. You’ve been under Drucella’s spell. Vampires tend to forget things when they’re magically imprisoned.”
She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw a flicker of recognition cross his impressive features. It was fleeting and gone in an instant, replaced by a look of lust that weakened her senses.
“I have no memory of being imprisoned.” He stared down at her, studying her face as though etching her features on his mind. “You are very beautiful.”
“And you’re heavy. You must weigh a ton. Get off me!”
He chuckled as though what she had said was funny.
Ronna glared up at him, fighting the arousing feel of his cock rubbing erotically on her crotch. God forbid she should allow her lust to blossom.
“Please.” She swallowed down her pride and resorted to begging. A bit more of his erotic rubbing at her crotch and she would be aroused to the point of no return.
He lowered his head, slowly, and took her mouth.
She moaned and closed her eyes. Something inside her told her she had little resistance against this handsome vampire. While she had cast a spell to prevent him from hurting her, she had neglected to cast any spell that would prevent him from seducing her.
His lips were cool against hers. Expertly he pushed his tongue between her lips and thrust inside her mouth. His tongue began a sensuous dance with hers, sending erotic tingles throughout her body.
“No!” She rolled her head to one side, breaking the kiss.
His breath wafted across her throat as he proceeded to nip at her silken skin.
Immediately she sensed he was about to sink his fangs in to her throat and jerked her head back, colliding her cheek against the side of his head. He drew back and gazed down at her.
“When I get ready to feed from you, you’ll know it.” A slow smile graced his lips.
She stared up at him, trying to access his motives. He wanted sex. His erection was undeniable. His face was pale, yet not overly so. She wondered how he had emerged into the light of day without any of the ill effects Marcus feared. On a whim, she j
erked her head toward the window high on the wall.
“It’s night time.” A shiver of awareness traveled through her insides. “Marcus will be here any second.”
His dark brows raised upward in a show of surprise. “Marcus?”
“Your brother. Now get off me.”
“Not before I sate my lust.”
He moved so quickly she barely had time to scream. He shifted his body, holding both her hands over her head with one of his, while he fumbled with her jeans, trying to push them from off her hips.
“Ouch! You’re hurting me!”
“Why do you wear men’s britches?”
“Because I’m from the twenty-first century, you moron! Now get the hell off me!”
He chuckled loudly but he didn’t stop trying to rid her of her jeans.
Ronna struggled to free her hands. Why in hell couldn’t she think of a spell to make him get off her? Her witchcraft was no good under pressure.
She dashed the thoughts and concentrated on trying to free her hands. His strength was immense, and well it should be. She had learned over the course of knowing Marcus that a vampire had incredible strength when he was awake but totally helpless when he slept. It seemed ironic—so much strength and brutality gathered in one male body yet useful only at certain times.
“Your squirming is delightful.”
Ronna stilled. She had not considered that her movements should be arousing to him.
My God! He’s hard as a hammer!
But I’ve only awakened, my love.
Marcus!
Yes, my darling.
She felt his humor.
Is it not a fact that you know of my arousal for you upon my waking? Does that not prove that we are soul mates?
Marcus, help me! Chandler is…
She cleared her mind. How could she tell Marcus that his brother was holding her down with intentions of fucking her senseless?
