Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  “You haven’t welcomed me properly.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Lunging, he caught her by the waist and pulled her onto her knees on the mattress. Laughing, she knocked him down to his back, holding him there with a hand on his chest as she straddled him.

  “You don’t worry about being high-handed with me,” he said, recalling her comment to Jacob.

  “You need high-handedness. Quite often.”

  He propped his knees up behind her, forming a back rest. When she leaned against that support, they hooked hands so she could rock side to side, comfortable in her male cradle. “You miss me?” she asked.

  “Not a bit. Watched Sons of Anarchy, drank beer, said women are icky and who needs them.” He wondered what Daegan was doing. There was a sense of expectation to her, as if she had something of major import to tell him. It made him a little nervous, wondering if he needed to be up and moving, finding weapons or at least something pointy. She read it from his mind, and caressed his palm with her fingers.

  “No, love. Nothing like that.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” She cupped his face as he stroked her hair, her arms, a familiar touch she didn’t deny him. As he did, he got the myriad scents of a night out on the city. Coffeehouses, maybe a nightclub and a bakery. He hoped she’d brought some bear claw pastries back.

  “Do you ever think of anything other than sex, food or fighting?”

  “What else is there to think about? I missed you,” he admitted. “A lot. More than beer or bear claws.”

  “I’m glad. But I wanted you and Daegan to have time together.”

  She had her sable locks down, so he twined a strand around his wrist and felt it stroke every nerve ending to life. “What was this all about? Really.”

  “You think it was planned? You and Daegan?”

  “I may be thickheaded and stubborn, but I’m not dumb.”

  She cocked her head, giving him a smile. “Not about everything, I’ll give you that.” Then she sobered. “If I was killed, what do you think would happen, Gideon?”

  He pushed himself upright immediately, sliding his arms around her hips and slim back. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not while either of us is alive.” He was ready to fight without a stitch on, with teeth and nails if needed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Sshh.” She put her hands on his face again, but this time he closed his hands over her wrists. There was the side of him that was her servant, and the part that was her protector, and when they came in conflict, his priorities were never confused.

  “Don’t sshh me. What—”

  “This isn’t about me. I know you and Daegan would move Heaven and Earth to protect me. But it’s an uncertain world. If anything does happen to me, you won’t die. Daegan’s mark on you is stronger than my binding.”

  He met her gaze, held there. And it clicked. The thoughts he’d been having about Daegan, the vulnerability, the childhood… “Did you plant those things, lead me to them?”

  She shook her head. “You’re not as emotionally closed off as you once were, Gideon. You’ve been noticing things about him, opening yourself up to the details about who and what he is, the way you were doing with me all along. You came to it yourself.”

  “So you arranged this because…?”

  “For several reasons. One, because it was a requirement of your service to me. I set the terms, and you’ve been procrastinating.”

  “Well, not to sound like a girl, but it wasn’t my job to initiate.” At her level stare, he shifted. “Yeah, I was avoiding it some. It’s not so easy.”

  “Actually, I suspect it was easy, in a lot of ways, and that was what made you avoid it, avoid confronting that truth. But you did it.” She softened, touched his face. Then she dimpled, that mischievous spark in her gaze. “The second reason was pretty straightforward. Once I have you rewind every detail in your mind, I’ll be ravishing you both every second for about a month.”

  “I have absolutely no objection to that.”

  “I didn’t figure you would.” Catching the hand sliding down to cup her ass, she squeezed it in reproof. Then she sobered once more. “We’re a trinity, but I wanted to make sure the bond between you and Daegan is as strong as what lies between you and me.”

  “I’m not that important. As long as you have each other—”

  He knew he’d made a mistake the second the words left his mouth. Her gaze turned to frost, chilly enough to make him wonder if Lyssa had taught her that Jedi ice trick that could transform a room into the North Pole. Anwyn slapped him upside the head, though when she tried for a double play on it, he caught her arm, a warrior’s defense. She glared at him.

  “You’ve accepted the truth, Gideon. So why do you keep backing away from it, lying to yourself? He doesn't love easily. In his hundreds of years, he’s never let anyone in his heart, until the two of us. So if anything happens to me, he’ll need you. I need to be sure you won't quit on him. The way you feel for him has grown into something as strong as what you feel for me. The past twenty-four hours proved it. Tell me I’m wrong. Call me a liar. And undermine your own worth once more and I swear I will put my high heel all the way up your ass.”

  Whereas Daegan being pissed off could just raise his hackles, her ire always struck him straight in the chest and forced him to admit truth, no matter how it chafed. Putting his head down on her shoulder, he pressed his lips to the rise of her breast under the snug T-shirt, a quiet apology. When she sighed, her arms going around his shoulders, he wanted her to take the shirt off, let him rub his lips over the silky pillow of her breast, rising above the scrap of bra he knew she was wearing. Instead, he gave her honesty. “You’re not wrong. I’d take care of him, Mistress. You know I would.”

  She lifted his face, her fingers caressing his jaw. “You’d take care of each other. That’s what’s important. You’re so vital, Gideon. You matter so much, we want the world to know you belong to us. You’ve fantasized about a collar, haven’t you?”

  The shift of topic was unexpected, and definitely back out of his comfort zone once more. But hell, most things with them were. He tried to look away, but of course that slim hand, those sharp nails, dug into his face, threatening puncture. “Haven’t you?” Her voice was silk over thorns, telling him he’d better answer.

  “Yes. But—”

  “You think we haven’t longed for the same? We only needed to be sure that you felt bound to us both emotionally as well as physically. And you are, aren’t you?” That touch caressed his throat, sent a wealth of sensations radiating out from it. It brought his gaze to her beautiful eyes, and he knew he could never lie to her. Especially not about this. He’d told Daegan he loved him, and even if he never said it again, he didn’t have to do so. He meant it.

  “Yes, Mistress. I’m bound to you both.”

  She nodded, a triumphant expression crossing her face, happiness and pleasure intertwined, along with a fierce, arousing possessiveness.

  “We’re going to collar you. A permanent sign of our ownership of your body, your heart…and every inch of your soul.”

  §

  She had him rise from the bed and go to the shower. She chained his arms over his head, manacled his ankles to the floor, and then she stripped down, thank the gods. However, her purpose apparently was to drive him crazy, not fulfill her own lust. She washed him with the vigor and thoroughness he’d expect to see in a stable when a horsewoman was preparing her mount for show. It painfully aroused him, how she kept her body out of reach, though he watched all those rivulets of water tighten her nipples, follow the curves of waist and hip, the folds of her bare cunt when she bent over in front of him to pick up one of those scrubbing sponges. She used that on him, rubbing it over his testicles and cock, a mild abrasion that, with the soap, had him struggling not to jerk against her touch, particularly when she bade him be still.

  As she stretched up to do his hair, she had to lean i
nto his body, so he got his chance to take a nip from her shoulder, suckle the beads of water on her throat, and feel the sexy little quiver go through her as she adjusted her stance and trapped his hard cock between her thighs. When she handled his shampooing, it moved his cock in that channel, her inner thigh muscles stroking him as his breath got shorter and his heart pounded.

  But she backed off before he could coax her further into it. She shut off the shower, released one of his hands so he could do the rest, and tossed him a towel. He shot her a feral grin. “Don’t trust yourself too close, Mistress?”

  She gave him her mysterious look, elusive seductress that she was. “Get yourself free, dry off. Don’t put anything on. Come up to the first level, kneel outside the elevator. I’ll come for you soon. I want that cock to stay hard, but you do it without touching it. I expect you at that elevator in five minutes.”

  Staying hard wasn’t a problem. All he had to do was watch the twitch of her ass as she put on a light silk wrap, tied it snug and disappeared. A few minutes later, he knew she’d left their apartments. He dried off, ran his fingers through his hair and gave his face a quick glance. Three and a half minutes for a decent shave, and then he was in the elevators.

  He didn’t give himself a chance to think about who he might meet, though Atlantis was closed for a few more hours. Thank all the gods, when he stepped off, he didn’t see Jacob, but his brother was probably off with Lyssa, enjoying free run of the club’s diverse bondage equipment. Or rather Lyssa would be using him for her enjoyment of it. The idea of his brother stretched out on some of those torture devices that Anwyn and Daegan had used on him was a little odd, so he put that out of his head.

  Though he wouldn’t mind seeing Lyssa stretched out naked on some of those things. If Anwyn ever read that from his mind, he expected he’d be in for a world of hurt. Thank goodness his Mistress was choosing to ignore it—or planning to exact retribution later.

  When he heard the tap of those heels, he remembered the first night they’d met, when he couldn’t see her, could only hear her coming up behind him. She touched him now, fingers whispering over his bare shoulder, caressing his jaw. “Follow me.”

  Rising, he obeyed. She stayed several steps ahead of him, giving him the pleasure of watching her walk in that thin robe, and distracting him from his own nakedness. He was surprised when she took him to the Rose Room, a room of all mirrors on ceilings and walls. It was the place she and Daegan had first come together. But instead of a center pedestal holding a vase of roses tonight, there was a mid-sized iron fire pit, which appeared to be filled with red hot coals, irons and tongs. Next to it was a silver chalice, like the ones he’d seen in churches, holding wine, wine that represented blood. Only his enhanced senses told him he was smelling blood.

  He was surprised to see Daegan back in the silk shirt and slacks he’d worn with Shannon and Aaron. The mask was missing though, so he could see the dark eyes and fall of black hair over his forehead. And the shirt was open, underlining the fact Daegan was six foot plus of pure sex. The vampire leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed. The way his gaze coursed over Gideon, taking his time and pleasure in the view, made Gideon remember everything they’d done. Particularly that last moment, when he’d been almost unconscious, but felt Daegan’s lips brush his temple, his hand glide with possessive pleasure down Gideon’s back, over his ass.

  Sleep, vampire hunter. You’ve earned it.

  Anwyn made a pleased noise. “Lovely images, Gideon. I want you to kneel now. By the fire pit.”

  He did, some swirly crazy things happening in his chest as he guessed at what was about to happen. His cock jumped when her fingertips trailed over his shoulders again. “Arms held out to your sides, chin up, back straight. Sit on your heels.”

  He did it, feeling his testicles press against them. She tugged on his hair. “You’re a warrior, Gideon. Fierce in your loyalty, almost savage with it at times. We’ve talked about it, Daegan and I, and we know a collar that can be removed won’t do. We want something that permanently shows your servitude to us, something that can’t be taken away, given back.”

  Yes. He tightened his lips at the involuntary thought, the fervency of it.

  “So that is what we are going to give you. And hereafter, if you accept this binding, you also accept what it means. What you mean to us. You never question it again. You are the glue, Gideon.” Her tone was soft. “Do you understand?”

  That swirly quality became thick, hard to speak around. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “You are not speaking only to me.” Her tone was sharp, snapping his back to a straighter stance. She could do that with the badass routine, tighten up his balls, harden his cock. He had no idea how she did it, when any other woman would just make him want to pat her head and call her cute. He was unsettled, restless and anxious. Alert, almost battle ready. But he obeyed her directive and amended his response.

  “Yes, Master and Mistress.”

  “Good. There are no restraints in this room, Gideon. Daegan will hold you steady when the time comes, but part of the challenge of accepting this is your accepting the pain of it.” She moved to the chalice, picked up a paintbrush with bristles that almost matched her sable hair. Soft looking. “Hold your position.”

  He did, watching her dip the brush in the blood. As she stroked the brush over his throat and wrists, he felt the slick slide of warm blood, sensuous, like the silk of her tongue. It was her blood and Daegan’s, mixed together.

  “There are three sets of irons. Each one has two curved metal pieces, like tongs. When brought together they form a fitted circle, a tight manacle over your wrists or throat, measured to make that tight fit. D is cut into one cuff, A into the other, for our shared ownership of you. The trinity, the servant’s mark you bear, is cut into the collar, so the scarring you experience from our blood will reflect those symbols.”

  Any wound inflicted on a servant became a permanent scar when it was marked by his vampire’s blood. There was a strange feeling sweeping through Gideon, a heat over his skin, a tingling and almost light headedness.

  “You’ve worn him out, love,” Anwyn said with amusement, but her eyes were intent on Gideon’s face, he could feel it. “He might need some of our blood when this is done.”

  “I worked him hard,” Daegan agreed, pure male satisfaction in his tone. “But he’s strong as an ox, and just as stubborn.” His voice became rougher. “And I’ll hold him up.”

  The vampire came across the room then, taking a knee behind Gideon, his hands closing over his forearms, leaving his wrists clear. As he did, it put his front against Gideon’s back, the pleasure of that hard bare chest pressing into his shoulder blades. The position reminded him of how he’d shown Daegan how to throw the ball. Go long, go far. Go forever.

  “Are you ready, Gideon?” Anwyn asked, her eyes full of emotion. Her hand hovered over one pair of the irons in the fire pit.

  He glanced back at Daegan, met his dark eyes, then shifted his attention forward to his Mistress. For the two of you, I’m always ready. For whatever you want and need.

  “Do you accept our love and ownership of you completely, with no doubts and full surrender?”

  He swallowed, knowing he always had to be honest, even if it ruined the moment. “It’s hard for me to accept the way you feel about me. But not because I don’t want it. It’s everything I want…so no matter how hard it is for me to understand or accept the way you both feel about me, I’m yours, in every way. And I hope to God you’ll always want me.”

  “Good enough.” She reached out with her free hand, a gentle brush of fingers over his face that briefly closed his eyes as she touched his lips. When he raised his lids, the Mistress took over, the direct stare that told him to lower his eyes, and damn if he didn’t do it. She didn’t require that often, but he could see she wanted his focus to be internal right now. He moved into that state pretty quick, almost a shallow-breathed trance, knowing what was coming. God help him, he wanted it. It
didn’t matter that—

  Holy fuck. Daegan’s hands locked down on his forearms in an unshakable grip as the first set of tongs closed around his wrist. Anwyn had branded humans for Atlantis’s more extreme activities, and knew the limits of the human body, what amount was needed for the brand to scar and yet not cause medical emergencies. A third mark had more tolerance, but also needed the metal to stay long enough to sear the blood into the flesh, activate the chemical reaction that would make his Master and Mistress’s marks permanent. He was making a strangled scream, tears of exertion overflowing as he tried not to rely on Daegan so much, to hold still as possible, but his Master had him, held him steady.

  When the tongs were taken away from that wrist, he was gasping.

  “One down,” she said, and picked up the other. No time to brace for impact. That was the way his Mistress wanted it. Daegan’s power was definitely needed his time, because it didn’t matter how badass his mind wanted him to be, his body reacted on instinct to the smell of burning flesh, the excruciating pain of it. He twitched and jerked, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat and face muscles working as the second wrist cuff stamped its mark in that location.

  D on the right, A on the left. He could see it, see how it would heal up enough to make those initials more precise, always there, now and forever. At the moment they hurt like a son of a bitch. But it was okay. Adrenaline was pumping crazy through his system, and his cock was staying high and hard as a tent pole, because he knew what was coming, the most important one of all. He lifted his head to Anwyn again, gritting his teeth and staring at her through those stress tears. Please…

  “You want the collar, love, don’t you?”

  He nodded. Daegan brushed his mouth against his shoulder, his body pressing in closer. Gideon felt him right against his ass, his clad knee next to Gideon’s bare calf.