by Unknown
And he was ready.
Oh, man, was this kitty hot!
Celine turned her cute little button nose up in the air. “I’ll certainly not be finding out any such thing as to the size of your…toy. You so much as touch me, and I’ll claw you to pieces.”
Topaz gave a feline snicker. “I’m counting on that, Toots. Hurt me. Hurt me.”
“You two take your courtship out of here,” Talon growled.
“We are not courting,” Celine denied furiously. She turned and stalked from the bedroom with a miffed, “Humph!”
Topaz followed, hot on her tail, mouth watering.
“Get away from me,” Celine hissed, looking behind her. “Far away. I see that twitching flagpole between your legs. I’m not impressed.” She sniffed, flipping her tail in the air, swishing it back and forth and sashayed away from him.
“Oh, you’re impressed, Toots.”
Celine looked over her shoulder. “It’ll be a cold day in the Underworld before you get near me with that…thing.”
Topaz grinned, watching her stroll away. “Oh, baby,” he rumbled. “Do I feel a cold front moving in? Brrr.”
Silent, as only a male Futhar in stalking mode can be, Topaz trailed the little Persian. Going down on his belly, ears flattened in a predator’s stalk, eyes narrowed to mere slits, he crept underneath tables. When he couldn’t conceal himself using furniture, he used his Cloaking Sheath, a shield that rendered him invisible.
How upset the little Persian would be if she knew the number of the times he stood close enough to nudge her with his ‘flagpole.’ Thank the gods only male Futhars were blessed with the Cloaking Sheath, otherwise, they’d probably never get laid.
Not that he was one to use force. He’d never stoop so low as to take a female against her wishes. He let his charm do the work for him.
Females couldn’t resist him.
How could they?
He was handsome. Suave and debonair. Hot!
And he had a big one.
He was everything a female feline could possibly want.
Topaz stayed out of sight as Celine prowled restlessly from room to room. He made her nervous with his shadowing her. He knew it, and savored the thrill of it.
And he never took his eyes off her. The sweet puss knew her hours were numbered. He watched her through narrowed lids, his body quivering with urgency. Then he scooted behind heavy drapes and peeked around at her, excitement humming through his blood. He licked his lips, savoring every minute of his pursuit.
There was no way she could escape him.
His heart pounded as he patiently waited for her to make the wrong move.
Waited for her to come too close. Waited. Waited—
Bingo!
She did it. Sashayed past the sofa where he lay in wait in a low crouch behind it. He sprang over the top, only to miss the quick-footed Persian and crash belly down on the floor.
“Awww,” Topaz screeched. “I broke my cock!” He whimpered and rolled around on the floor cupping his balls. “Awww!”
Celine snorted and took off like a scalded cat. Slamming the hall closet door behind her, she sealed the door with magic before Topaz could stand and soothe his aching toy.
Furious, Topaz flung a hostile glare at the closed door where he could hear Celine howling with laughter behind it.
Slowly, stiffly, he got up and limped away, moaning as he rubbed his throbbing cock and swollen balls. The little feline had outsmarted him. But this was only round one. Round two was his.
Topaz smirked with lusty intent. It was only a matter of time until he caught her. He wouldn’t be such an idiot next time and leap before he looked. The smirk slowly faded as he realized, to his chagrin, that Celine was a classy, highbred piece of pussy. And he wanted her for more than a quick round of mating. He made a silent vow. She would belong to him.
Topaz headed back into the bedroom where Talon had remained secluded with Saylym the entire day. He wouldn’t allow this defeat to get him down. His big heavy tail swished high in the air, exactly as Celine had swished hers at him earlier in the morning.
He hummed a little tune beneath his breath then started singing in a low baritone. “I feel good. So good. Cause I’m gonna nail yo-ou.”
Topaz didn’t bother looking back. A male feline Futhar never looked back at where he’d been, because he rarely returned. He went on to the next piece of furry, feline tail. In this case however, he’d return for Celine but she needed to believe he’d given up.
He lived by Alley Cat standards, not by the Futhar’s rules of courtship. And by the gods, he’d show her exactly what that meant when pretty, sexy Persians toyed with horny toms.
“Mess with the bull, ya get the horn.” He snickered.
Topaz paused to stretch and yawn and then started singing again. “I feel good. So good. Cause I’m gonna nail yo-ou. Yeah, baby.”
* * * *
Celine stuck her head around the corner of the door and gave a long sigh of relief. At last, he’d given up, gone away. The big tom spent the entire day tormenting her, trying to wear her down so he could have his way with her. But she’d showed him. For now, she was safe. He’d be wearing an ice pack on his favorite toy for hours to come.
The beast was horrible! Simply horrible! Brash and a-an Alley Cat! The worst possible breed of feline there was. Why, Alleys mated with every female feline they came across. Well, not her. She refused to lower her standards. The only male she’d accept was one of her own breed, with the exception of a Siamese. She’d always thought the Siamese Futhars were incredibly beautiful and they knew how to treat a lady.
“I hate him,” she hissed, her thoughts returning to the low-life Alley Cat. “He’s an animal!” she panted breathlessly.
A well hung animal.
She frowned. No. She wasn’t going to think about what he had between his legs.
The dumb tom thought he could treat her as if she was a low-life Alley Cat, one he could toy with, then just walk away from. Mr. Cool Cat. She hoped that twitching rod between his legs shriveled up and fell off!
Celine closed the closet door and crept deeper inside the cool, dark interior. A pile of old clothes lay in the farthest corner, and she dropped down on top of them, curling into a tight, wretched little ball. She hated him. Hated him!
If she never saw him again, it would be too damned soon.
If he dared to come near her, ever again, she would—she would—well—she’d race in the opposite direction as fast as she could run.
All she wanted to do was sleep and forget about the tom that had so crudely threatened ‘to nail your pretty Persian ass.’
* * * *
“Hey, Prince.” Topaz arched both furry brows. “Could you shut up that howling bed? It’s been screeching for so long, I’m going to start coughing up hair balls and vomiting if it keeps moaning and groaning.”
Talon stepped out of the bathroom, naked and wet from the shower. He glanced at Topaz as the big cat sauntered toward Saylym’s bedroom. “Done already?” he asked. “It certainly sounded like at least one of you was having fun.”
Water sluiced down Talon’s body. Topaz blinked. “The lovely Persian is playing the old Futhar game of ‘Hard to get.’ As for having fun, she’s the only one who did. So to answer your question, no I’m not quite finished. I’m working my way up to it, Prince. So, can you fix the bed’s eye?”
“I tried. I can’t undo Saylym’s magic. Why did she zap the bed?”
“Don’t know, boss. SMP, MPS, one of those monthly female things, I guess. Damn glad she wasn’t pissed at me. Why, I just might be nothing but a pile of black and orange fur on the floor if she zapped me.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Talon glared at the moaning bed. “Shut up, bed, before I thread your lips together.”
“Yes, Highness,” the bed cried. “Can you give me back my sight? I do so miss seeing everything.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Talon chewed on his lip. “But you have to stop
yelling so I can concentrate.”
“Yes, Highness.”
He’d tried all day to counteract Saylym’s wild magic. So far, everything he’d attempted failed. He stood up and pointed at the bed. Sparks flew from his fingertips toward the eye. They snapped and danced around the injured eye before vanishing with a crackling hiss.
A horrified scream rent the air as the bed blinked, then blinked again. “By the gods, Highness, put on some clothes, before I puke. Why, that’s the scariest thing dangling there I ever did see!”
Talon grinned, snapped his fingers and was instantly dry. A pair of black leather pants swathed his hips. “I’m trying to get ready for a very important night and you two keep interrupting me. Are you both happy now?”
Topaz hopped up on the bed, stepped over Saylym’s prone figure and studied the big eyeball. “Interesting. Your eye isn’t red any more. It’s baby blue. Not quite so intimidating.” Topaz slanted his gaze toward Talon. “Thought you couldn’t undo her magic, boss?”
“I didn’t undo it. I simply gave Sandman a different eye. The other one is gone for good.”
Talon stroked an unsteady finger across one of Saylym’s silky eyebrows. “You must have done something to frighten her.”
For a moment, Topaz thought Talon referred to Celine. And he knew without doubt he’d frightened the beautiful Persian. A satisfied smirk twisted his lips. He grinned and hopped off the bed.
And oh, didn’t he have plans to frighten her some more, but Talon would hardly concern himself with his and Celine’s courtship. Futhars were a breed unto themselves. They were half-witch and half whatever animal, bird, or species they descended from, and full blood witches rarely interfered in their business.
No one ruled them. No one owned them. In truth, it was just the opposite. The Futhar claimed ownership of the witch. Their commitment to a witch was voluntary and for life. They usually remained in their familiar form as well, but they had the ability to shape shift into anything they desired.
There was only one law they followed. If a Futhar impregnated a female, he was automatically bonded to her. She became his life mate and the only thing that could change it was if one of them died. In this, their race was different from the witches.
Talon slid his glance up and down Topaz. “Are you singing? What are you so cheerful about?”
Topaz held up two tiny pink satin bows, inhaled deeply, and sighed with pleasure. “I think I just might keep the lovely Celine.”
Talon lifted a brow. “Really?”
Topaz’ eyes shimmered like gold jewels as he proudly lifted his head. “Yeah, boss. I’m afraid I’ve been neutered. My tomcattin’ days are over.”
Talon laughed. “Happens to the best of us, old friend.”
“Yes, it does. I’m a goner, boss.”
“Go find Sage and Stry. Tell them to join me in the woods by the sacred pine tree in an hour.”
“The bonding tree?” Topaz’ gold eyes rounded. “You’re having a bonding ceremony?”
“Yes. I’m keeping the lovely Saylym, too. I’ve contacted the high priest and priestess. The high priestess has already cast a circle. As soon as the sleep spell I placed on Saylym wears off, we’ll be there.”
“You’re giving up your freedom? For one witch?”
Talon nodded. “I am. Go. And Topaz? I expect to see you there.”
Topaz bowed his head. “I will be honored to attend your handfasting, Prince.”
Saylm gave a low moan. Talon whirled at the sound of her soft groan, all his attention on her now.
Saylym’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment, she stared at him, then Talon saw memory slam into her.
“You put a spell on me,” she accused.
Talon held her against his chest, running his fingers through her tangled curls. “Hey, are you crying? After such a long nap, you should feel better.”
Saylym shook her head. “No. Why would I cry? I’m not crying. I’m mad as hell! At me. At you!”
“I can figure out why you’re angry at me, but why are you mad at yourself?”
“You don’t understand. I’m…a…witch.”
Talon laughed softly when she hiccupped. “I know, kieran.”
“I mean, I’m really a witch. You know, as in Samantha, Tabitha, witch!”
“Who?”
“As in Witch Hazel, witch.”
“As in Salem, witch, baby.” Talon rubbed her back. Tenderly, he closed his mouth over hers, muttering, “As in my witch.” Reluctantly, he eased the pressure off her mouth. At least she was talking and making sense, again. Sort of. Although he was clueless who Samantha, Tabitha, or Hazel was. Maybe they were relatives.
Most of the morning, she’d been incoherent. At least she’d been incoherent once she came out of her near-catatonic state, and nothing he said seemed to calm her down.
Then she’d sat straight up in bed and stared at the wall as though she was in a trance, mumbling, “I’m a witch,” over and over again until he finally cast the sleeping spell over her. He’d remained at her bedside until it was time to get ready for the ceremony.
Talon brushed back a stray curl from her face. “We have to talk, Saylym,” he said seriously. “If you don’t listen to me, if you refuse again to bond with me, then you will cease to exist.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth Howe, Sarah Wildes, and Sarah Good were executed. Fearing that they couldn’t get a fair trial in Salem Town, John Proctor and other prisoners wrote a letter from prison to the Reverends Increase Mather, James Allen, Joshua Moody, Samuel Willard, and John Bayley. In the letter, they asked the ministers to support their request for a change of venue for the trials.
~Elizabeth Howe
“If it was the last moment I was to live, God knows I am innocent…”
~Susannah Martin
“I have no hand in witchcraft.”
~Salem Witch Trials
July 19-23, 1692
Sanctuary
Saylym knew she had run out of time, she could tell by the seriousness of Talon’s tone of voice. The choice was no longer hers, if it had ever been. He meant business. He meant her to face reality.
Reality was the fact she was a witch.
Reality was the fact she’d blinded the poor bed and could have done the same to Talon when she’d wiggled her fingers at him. She would never forgive herself if she harmed him. She hadn’t meant to do such a mean thing to the bed, but she was guilty of injuring it all the same. She could still hear the pitiful thing sobbing in her mind.
Reality was the fact that Talon frightened her with his statement she was going to cease to exist—a strange way of wording ‘you’re going to die’—when all she wanted to do was lie back, close her eyes, and shut out the world she seemed to have dropped into, this crazy world of witches, warlocks, and magic.
She wanted no part of this world, but had she a choice in the matter?
And reality was Talon, sitting here beside her on the bed, insisting they wed. Or as he put it, bond. He also said something about jumping over a broom. He might as well have said jump over the moon for all she understood of his meaning.
She had to do something about him.
But what?
Was she ready to commit to him?
She liked him a lot, but did she love him? Trust him?
She didn’t know.
Did he love her?
She didn’t think so.
The problem was she’d always believed that when she trusted a man enough to give herself to him, she would love that man with all of her heart and soul. To that end, she’d already given herself to him, even if the act hadn’t been fully consummated. At that moment, when she’d surrendered, she’d been certain of his love. But after?
She wasn’t ready to search for that particular answer yet.
Talon moved closer beside her on the bed. She closed her eyes. “Go away,” she said wearily, “before I zap your eyeball.”
He couldn
’t keep from laughing. “Come on, darling. Open your eyes. We have a bonding ceremony to attend.”
“No. I don’t want to get bonded, enslaved, claimed, or mated.”
“Yes, you do. You want every one of those things and you want them with me. I know you want me.”
Her eyes flew open. “Don’t be a conceited jerk. Go away! You make me nervous.”
She closed her eyes again and panted.
Talon frowned, watching her chest rise and fall. By the time she had a baby, she’d have this breathing thing down right.
She opened her eyes. “You’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He brushed a stray curl back from her face. “Listen to me, Saylym. I know you didn’t want to face up to the fact you’re a witch. There are things you don’t understand yet or accept.” He exhaled slowly. “There are things about you I don’t understand. But the most important, the most urgent thing at the moment is that we must bond. We have to have a public ceremony with witnesses.”
“Why?”
Talon stood up, pacing. “Because.” He turned to face her. “Because, if you refuse to bond with me, they’ll send someone to obliterate you.”
Saylym sat up and flung back the covers. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would anyone want to kill me? And who are they?”
“Because you’re a witch.”
“I thought that was a good thing. That you wanted me to be a witch.”
“I do want you to be a witch. Hell, what am I saying? You are a witch, but the thing is, you aren’t a very good witch. You’re a bungler of magic and that makes you intolerable to my race.”
“Intolerable? I thought being an Impure made me intolerable?”
“That too.”
“I see.”
“No, baby, you don’t see. It isn’t exactly death that will happen to you, not in the way you understand it. Our way is different. A witch’s spirit can return to her body, if it can find the body.”
