9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  She pressed her face against his warm flesh and wondered vaguely when he’d taken off his shirt. Or had she removed it?

  She couldn’t halt the moan as he lowered her to the quilt and started over.

  His tongue found the underside of her breasts, and he paused to lick her there, before moving slowly down her stomach, straight toward Beulah Land. He paused at the waistband of her thong.

  Whimpers of desire tore from her clogged throat. Excited, she waited to see what he would do next. He poured wine on her stomach and then followed the red trails with his tongue, pausing to sip from her bellybutton, swirling and dipping his tongue into the tiny opening.

  She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  Her body burned as if he’d set fire to it. She wanted him to touch her again. To bring her to that delicious fever pitch and take her over the edge. He glided his tongue down her belly. Any second now she’d do a slow burn, melt into a puddle of steaming, wine-flavored liquid.

  The man knew what he was doing.

  * * * *

  The man was insane with need.

  Talon sucked in a deep, ragged breath. She was driving him crazy with those sexy little mewling sounds she kept making. Wildly hungry with desire, he knew he played with fire. And the more he played, the more he wanted to play, and he knew, damn it, he knew, he didn’t dare seek his own release or things could get way out of hand.

  Still, he pushed her to the brink, to the very edge of completion with his fingers. His mind roared with the clawing need to be inside her.

  Saylym moaned. “Please.”

  “My intent is to please you, lovely Saylym. That has always been my objective.”

  Talon raised his head and stared down into her passion-clouded eyes. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. The need was so urgent, so overwhelming, he felt as if he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces.

  He fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, released his blood-engorged cock and rubbed it against the portal of her womanhood. He swore he’d take it slow. Just a little. He’d enter her just a little, enough to give them both a taste of the raw heat and friction building to fever pitch between them. Enough to gain his own release, but not so far he couldn’t pull back, stop before he was too deep, stop, before he came inside her.

  He tore the thong down her legs and tossed it to one side. Then settling between her thighs, he nudged her knees wider apart. The broad head of his cock stroked against the warm channel of her womanhood. By degrees, he pushed inside her, slowly stretching the sensitized muscles.

  He rocked gently, working the tip in and out, going a little deeper with each penetration, until the head of his shaft bumped against the flimsy barrier of her virginity. Though he yearned to rip through the fragile membrane, he restrained the urge to thrust. Instead, he pulled back and teased her with the broad head of his cock, slow and shallow, rocking in and out in a torturous rhythm that was delicious agony for both of them.

  Talon gritted his teeth against the burning pain spreading up and down the length of his cock. It settled in his balls and hurt like hell. Gods, but she surrounded the head of his cock like a tight glove. He had to be deeper inside her. He wasn’t even half-way and it was killing him. The head of his cock felt like it was going to burst any second.

  He surged deeper, stabbed the membrane that blocked his path. He pushed against it, tempted to complete penetration. A single hard thrust and it’d be done. He pressed harder, and heard her breath catch with a sharp hiss. She raked her nails down his back and groaned.

  Almost. He was almost there. He should stop now, pull back and stop before it was too late. He didn’t want to stop. He had to. He couldn’t think. His mind felt trapped in a sensual, sexual haze. He eased back swearing as he returned to the shallow rocking that was pure torture. His body strained, urging him to complete the mating. It was exquisite agony, shallow fucking.

  Still, he teased her with the incomplete penetration, torturing himself with the shallowness of his thrusts now, until he thought he’d die from the pure exquisite pleasure of her warm muscles squeezing his cock so tightly.

  He hissed. His body jerked and he clenched his teeth. Abruptly, he pulled out of her, his hot seed erupting onto her belly.

  “Shit,” he said, breathing hard. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. That was too damn fast.”

  “It was?” Saylym smiled, tangling her fingers in his hair.

  Talon lifted his head. His face felt flushed. His eyes felt hotter, as if he had a fever. “Yes,” he grunted. “I was barely inside you. You’re so damned tight, it blew my control.” He read the concern on her face. “I didn’t take your virginity,” he breathed. “I damn near did. I wanted it, desperately. But I didn’t. And I didn’t spill my seed inside you. There’s no chance you conceived. I’d know immediately if that happened.”

  “You’d know? How would you know such a thing?”

  “It’s an ability a waken is born with.” His lips tingled with the desire to taste her mouth. Just once. To simply taste her.

  Too soon!

  He knew it was too soon, too soon to stroke her with his tongue. Too soon to push his aching cock back inside her again. His seed still seeped. He could impregnate her with only a drop. He didn’t want that. After Beltane, when she was no longer fertile, he wouldn’t hold back. And next time he’d rip through that annoying fragile barrier, but he knew, he’d still withhold his seed.

  She was his for the taking. His. And though he’d reached satisfaction this time, it was a temporary release and he still ached to make her completely his. To fully claim her. Damn, this was insane.

  He caught himself lowering his mouth to hers. One kiss, his mind whispered, taunting—teasing, just one simple kiss, a mating of mouths. He would take her mouth. Take her. Gods!

  Talon shuddered and rolled away from her. Flinging an arm over his damp forehead, he did his best to regain control. His chest heaved with his ragged breaths. A fine sheen of sweat bathed his skin. His mind silently shouted, Take her. Complete the stealing ritual. Complete the mating ritual. Take what is yours.

  “Samhain,” he whispered. He’d barely touched her, barely gotten inside her and he’d nearly lost all control. His body, his mind, had swept into the dark hunger for her soul. Her intense response to his loving was unexpected. He hadn’t kissed her, but damn, how he needed to taste her mouth. He was so damn hard again, his teeth ached.

  * * * *

  Saylym watched him with wary eyes. What was wrong? What had she done to him? She started to touch his trembling body.

  Talon locked his fingers around her wrist, and shoved her away from him. “No. I need a minute.” He let go of her and curled into a tight ball. Talon swore softly in a language she’d never heard before, but she knew swearing when she heard it in any language.

  Pain stabbed at her heart. Watching him twist and groan in agony caused her eyes to sting. This was her fault. Somehow, she’d caused his suffering. She sat up and used a napkin to wipe away the evidence of his release and pulled on her shorts. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the zipper. Tying her shirt beneath her breasts was no easier when her fingers shook so badly.

  She looked around, suddenly feeling abandoned and ashamed. Saylym bit her bottom lip. She’d never allowed another man to touch her as she’d allowed Talon. She had nothing to feel ashamed about. It had been lovely, but still, she felt as if she’d done something very wrong. Frantic, she looked around for her underwear. She had to get out of here. Where was it?

  Good grief. The man was slick. Where had he hidden her thong?

  She sat there beside him, feeling helpless, dirty, and used.

  He wouldn’t let her touch him. And she didn’t know what else she could do to comfort him. Finally, he sat up, his face pale and damp.

  Talon gave her a faint smile, then thrust trembling fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Remind me never to use a magic chant on you again.”

  Saylym shook her head. Drawing up her knees, she g
ave a short laugh, but she couldn’t prevent the tears from staining her face.

  “Saylym,” he said softly, attempting to draw her into his arms. “Don’t. Witches don’t cry, baby. You can’t cry. Did I hurt you? Hell, of course I hurt you. You’re a virgin. Baby, you’re still a virgin. I didn’t penetrate you, I swear to Samhain. I can’t deny I wanted to. I wanted to be buried so damn deep inside you, it nearly killed me to hold back. I want to be inside you, even now. Sweetheart, don’t, you’re killing me.” He rubbed her back. “You felt so good, sweetheart. I’m dying to be back inside you. And I was careful. If you’re upset, worried I might have… there’s no chance I made you pregnant.”

  Saylym rubbed the tears from her face. God, she hadn’t even thought about getting pregnant. She’d just wanted him. Having a baby hadn’t entered her mind. She felt grateful he’d remembered to protect her.

  Still, there was something he wasn’t telling her. She felt it. She pulled away from him and began stuffing the left-over items back in the basket.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she sniffed. “Well, maybe just a little. I know what happened between us, Talon. I’m not totally naive. But you wouldn’t allow me to touch you. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” She bit her lip, but her control still slipped. “Well, I’ll tell you! It makes me feel dirty, as if I’m not good enough to touch the precious prince, just good enough to be screwed on a quilt on the ground! And damn it, I can cry if I want to. Granted, it’s rare. But this isn’t the time to make witch jokes,” she said in a choked voice. “I don’t want you to touch me. Not when it obviously causes your body so much pain and discomfort you couldn’t even make me completely yours.”

  “You have nothing to feel ashamed about, baby. And I didn’t screw you; I made love to you. Believe me, there’s a difference. I couldn’t allow you to touch me. If I had, I would have had you under me and I wouldn’t have stopped until I was buried to the hilt inside you. I would have shoved my cock so damn deep inside you I wouldn’t care if I hurt you. I wouldn’t have cared if I came inside you.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb tip. “I have little control when it comes to you, Saylym Winslow. My suffering isn’t your fault,” he said. “And the pain is worth the pleasure you gave me.”

  “Then whose fault is it?” she demanded. “Your skin feels hot as coals. I swear it’s like you are going up in flames.”

  “It’s the season, darling. Beltane. Wakens are horny as hell right now. I’m horny as hell. And I’ll remain horny as hell until May passes into June. I want to finish what we just started and I hurt with the need of it. I only have so much control.” He paused a moment. “Flames? It’s the Flaymes of Eternal Life!”

  “I don't understand,” she said, mechanically reaching for a discarded sandwich wrapper.

  “Leave everything. I’ll get it later,” Talon said, helping her up. Taking her by the arm, he turned toward the wooded path, his footsteps hurried. “Let’s go,” he said abruptly.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  Talon looked down at the way he was clenching her arm. He slowly loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s wrong,” she snapped.

  “Nothing’s wrong. And you did nothing wrong. I need to talk to my brother.”

  Saylym froze, pulling him up short. “Your brother? You’re going to discuss what we just did with your brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Talon stopped abruptly, eyeing the hand she held out to him.

  “If you’re going to discuss me with your brother, give me back my underwear.”

  “Uh-uh. They’re mine, by rights of the conqueror. I stormed the Bastille and dipped my wick in the hot oils of your sweet oasis.” He folded his arms slowly across his chest. “Yep. The thong is my reward. My trophy. Besides, it has a detailed map on it, and I’m keeping it.” He grinned. “In case I lose my way to Paradise.”

  She glared at him, her eyes narrowing. “Then give me my bra.”

  “Aw, baby, you don’t really expect me to break up a matched set, now do you?”

  “I don’t expect you to discuss what happened between us with your brother, either. I swear, Prince, if you tell anyone or show anyone my underwear—”

  “Now why would I share my treasure map with anyone? Hmmm? I’m a selfish man, sweetheart. What I claim I share with no one. I’m not going to tell Stry everything that happened, just the little things.”

  “There was nothing little about it,” she snapped.

  Talon grinned, making her long to smack him. “No? Sweetheart, I was barely in you. Quit worrying. I just have some questions I need to ask Stry.”

  Saylym felt herself flushing even as she bubbled into laughter. “That barely felt like a tremendous amount. Anyone ever tell you you’re incorrigible?”

  “All the time. Now, off you go. I have things to do.”

  * * * *

  Talon relaxed just a little after he had pointed Saylym in the direction of Sanctuary, but the flirtatious conversation and the shared laughter soon faded from his mind. The urge to bond with her was damn near overwhelming. He didn’t want to bond, damn it. He wanted to mate. He wanted to break through that fragile barrier and damn it, he wanted to plant his seed in her belly. He dared not let that happen.

  Talon scowled darkly. Nothing was going as he wanted.

  He’d had a taste of paradise, and he wanted more.

  He felt his body breaking into a cold sweat. The noose was tightening around his neck, tighter and tighter, until he couldn’t breathe.There had to be a way he could convince the ancients that Saylym was indeed harmless and no threat to any of them. If he was going up in a blaze of glory, then by the gods, he was going to burn his way.

  It didn’t include bonding.

  It wasn’t until much later that night Talon realized he hadn’t learned much of anything new concerning Saylym Winslow to report to the guild.

  And it was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t been so damn determined to seduce her, he might have gleaned more information from her.

  He was the one who enthralled her to steal her soul.

  Then he’d been stupid enough to place a stronger protection spell on her, shielding her from himself. Other than the fact he’d came damn close to botching his seduction, nothing had changed. He’d left her a virgin. And he’d been careful.

  He didn’t have much time. He had to bond with her. There was no other way.

  Talon sighed as he lay back against his pillow and closed his eyes. The only good thing he’d accomplished was gaining some sexual relief, but it wouldn’t last.

  Well, hell.

  The guild, in all their infinite wisdom was definitely going to be pissed with him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  George Jacobs, Sr. and his granddaughter Margaret were examined before Hathorne and Corwin. Margaret confessed and testified against her grandfather and George Burroughs, stating that they were both witches.

  ~Margaret Jacobs

  …“They told me if I would not confess I should be put down into the dungeon and would be hanged, but if I would confess I should save my life.”

  ~Salem Witch Trials

  May 10, 1692

  Page Entry…

  In the winter of 1691, MeLora accomplished two of her goals. She persuaded the young girls from Salem Village to believe in witches and encouraged them to name the guilty. The villagers were so superstitious it wasn’t a difficult task for their fear to take hold. Once she accomplished this, she turned the hatred she felt for Elsbeth by targeting her aunt’s husband, John Connor.

  But MeLora had set herself a difficult task, because John loved Elsbeth and his daughters. Every day, she’d go to Salem Village where he owned a weaponry shop. She made a point of frequently leaning over the counter to give him subtle glimpses of her small breasts. He’d quickly turn away, leaving MeLora frustrated and angry that her plan to seduce hi
m was failing.

  MeLora devised another plan by offering her help, putting supplies on shelves. On her way down the ladder one day, she tripped and made a show of spraining her ankle so John would have to carry her to his and Elsbeth’s cottage. Laughing, she whispered a spell in John’s ears and as he stood outside the cottage door, and with Elsbeth and their daughters inside, MeLora and John shared their first carnal kiss.

  The following evening, while John and MeLora worked at the shop, she attempted her second spell on John. She poured a vial of powder in his coffee and as soon as he took a sip, she took a risk and lowered the bodice of her gown to her waist.

  This time, John did not turn away, but stared at her budding breasts like a starving man in need of sustenance. MeLora smiled, pleased when he locked the door to the shop. She blew out the candle and took his trembling hand in hers.

  MeLora took his big hand and placed it on her breasts. “Touch me, John,” she encouraged. “I am yours to do with as you will.”

  He followed her to the back room like a loving puppy. MeLora smiled and made a pallet with his final seduction in mind.

  ~Pages of history from the Winslow witches.

  In the Year of Samhain, 1691

  Ru-Noc

  Droth

  City of the wakens

  Black Drayke decided he’d waited as long as he was going to wait. His temper lay like a latent spark, a red haze just beneath the surface of his mind, ready to explode—to hell with MeLora and her grand schemes.

  While MeLora had succeeded with her plans to seduce King Darak the night before, his plans had gone sadly awry. He’d waited all of Saturday night for the good captain to return to his post.