by Unknown
“So mote it be!” the coven shouted.
The priestess smiled. “You may kiss your bride Prince Talon and congratulations on acquiring your beautiful mate. You have chosen well.”
Dinka chose that moment to poke her tiny head up out of Sage’s shirt pocket. “Hurry up with kissy-kissy so we get to good stuff.”
Talon arched a brow. “And that would be?”
“Cake and champagne. Dinka plan on leaping into full glass of bubbly brew and splash ‘round. Maybe take sip or two. Live the good life.”
Laughter floated about the forest as Sage looked sheepish and poked the frog back inside his pocket. “I’m going to fry her legs one of these days.”
“Leave Dinka’s little green legs alone!” the Futhar shouted. “Need for swimming in champagne.”
The coven tittered with laughter at the Futhar’s antics.
Talon drew Saylym close, lowered his head and rubbed his lips across her mouth. Stepping back, he withdrew the athame from its leather case and held it toward her, handle first. “A promise freely given, ask, and it shall be yours.”
Saylym took the athame and held the point against his heart. “I ask for your love. Your fidelity. Swear to me it is mine and that you’ll always be true.”
The crowd laughed, enjoying the playful show.
Talon’s lips twitched with amusement, but his eyes were warm and serious. “I’m committed to you, darling, in every way. I’m yours, Saylym Winslow. This I pledge.”
Saylym took a small shiny key from Eldora. She placed it in Talon’s hand and closed his fingers around it. “I give to you the key to my heart. Guard it well, for it is given but once.”
Talon nodded, swallowing hard. “I will guard it with my life. Always.”
“Witches and wakens,” the high priestess announced, “the jumping of the broom.”
Saylym giggled at the sight of Eldora and Sage holding the broom just above the ground. Talon took her hand and together they jumped over the broom.
“Blessed be,” the coven yelled, cheering.
“Cake and champagne inside the tree for everyone,” the priestess shouted above the excited cheers of the crowd. “Come. Let us celebrate this grand ceremony and the bonding of this most special couple. May it be fruitful.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
George Jacobs, Sr., Martha Carrier, George Burroughs, John Willard, and John and Elizabeth Proctor were tried for witchcraft and condemned. They were all hanged on Gallows Hill, except for Elizabeth Proctor.
~George Jacobs
“Because I am falsely accused. I never did it.”
~Martha Carrier
“…I am wronged. It is a shameful thing that you should mind these folks that are out of their wits.”
~Salem Witch Trials
August 2-19, 1692
Sanctuary
“A bonding night should be special,” Talon stated to Topaz, his tone serious. He stalked up and down, pacing outside Saylym’s bedroom door in nervous frustration. Since their return from the forest thirty minutes earlier, she had locked herself in the bathroom and he hadn’t seen or heard her since.
“It appears your bride is nervous and needs more time,” Topaz suggested, grinning.
The big tom lay stretched out on a rug in front of the fireplace, lapping at a bowl of champagne. He gave a big yawn, as though declaring his boredom with the subject. “The secret, Boss, is to storm the Bastille, so to speak. You don’t give the little woman time to think about what you’re doing. Or what you’re going to do to her. You simply go in there, rip off her clothes, throw her on the bed and stick it in her.”
“Topaz. For Samhain’s sake. That’s not how it’s done.”
“That’s how I do it, boss. In and out, three thrusts, seed planted before the little darlin’ knows what happened. Pardon me saying this but you don’t have time to shilly-shally, boss. The little witch is bursting with ripeness. Three thrusts I’m tellin’ ya’, and the job’s done. Babe conceived.”
“Food,” Talon said, snapping his fingers. “What about food?”
“Sounds good, boss,” Topaz purred. “Strawberries, whipped cream, thick, golden honey, peach slices. You can dribble berry juice all over her delectable body and then take your time lapping it off her. Then a sneak attack, stick your cock in her, a little thrusting and wal-la, baby conceived.”
“I was talking about real food. You have a one track mind.” Talon snapped his fingers and a tray of assorted meats and cheeses appeared. He glanced at Topaz, flashed a wicked grin and a bowl of fresh, ripe strawberries popped onto the tray, along with a small jar of rich, thick honey.
“Peaches, boss. Gotta’ have peaches.”
A small bowl of sliced peaches appeared on the tray. “I have a one track mind, too,” Talon said, laughing.
“Now you’re talking, boss.”
Talon raised his fist to knock softly on the bedroom door.
“Remember, Prince, you can’t give her time to think about it or you’ll never get laid. Three thrusts, that’s the trick. Wham-bam.”
Talon rolled his eyes and entered the bedroom. The soft splatter of the shower running was the only sound he heard. He paused, grinning. By now, his bride must be the cleanest witch in Sanctuary. Topaz slinked past him and curled up in the middle of the bed. With a flick of his hand, Talon motioned for the big cat to leave. He wanted some time alone to create something special for Saylym.
* * * *
Topaz bailed off the bed. “Didn’t want to watch anyway,” he mumbled, and made sure the room was secure behind a wall of Futhar magic as he went in search of Celine. Maybe he’d try the three thrust theory on his little Persian, that is, if she ever quit hiding from him.
Topaz frowned as much as a feline can frown. He had a few things he wanted to say to the beautiful feline. She had refused to come out of the closet and attend Talon’s wedding with him. Celine had to learn her place and it was at his side during important events. It angered him that she’d refused to go with him and stand at the prince’s side. To punish her, he’d ignored her since his return from the bonding ceremony. But his patience was at an end. He wanted to get laid, damn it.
Allowing her to continue sulking was out of the question. Time for some action.
He searched for her, finally catching her rich jasmine and opium fragrance teasing his nostrils. He grinned, satisfied that no other male had touched her yet.
Topaz glanced down at his boner. Thank Samhain it still worked. He’d thought it was broken for sure. “Lee-tle lo-ove kit-ty—where are yo-ou?”
He pranced over to the closet door and knocked. “Come out, my lee-tle love pot.”
“Go away!” Celine snarled.
“Celine, my lee-tle furry puss, come out, my love. It’s time to play.”
“Stay away from me you over-bearing, over-sexed tom!” Celine sniffed. “You’re never getting near me. I hate you! And stop speaking with that dumb French accent.”
Topaz hissed between his teeth. She didn’t like his French love words? The sure sign of his passion for her? Huh. “Ah my lee-tle love juice, come out, or I’m leaving. I’ll go find a hot alley cat.”
Celine stuck her head around the corner of the door. “Go. Now. Do you think I care?”
Topaz snickered. “Now don’t get ugly, Celine.” He loved to see her in a snit. “Come here and let me have my wicked way with you.”
She slammed the door in his face. “You’re not just a dog, you big oaf, you’re a stinking hound dog!”
Topaz winced, slamming his paws over both ears. Oh, boy. He didn’t know a female Futhar could make such an ear-piercing screech. Blessed gods! But his darling pussy had a set of lungs!
He narrowed his gaze to mere slits. The Persian was serious. She wanted him to go away. Leave her alone. “Too bad, Celine, because you’re mine. I’m going now, my lee-tle honey pot. I’ll go find you some big juicy rats to soothe your temper.”
* * * *
Waiting outside in the
darkness, Eldora watched as the capsule of Futhar magic slid over and surrounded Saylym’s house in a glowing, protective mantle. Nothing could get in. Nothing would disturb the couple inside, at least, not until after they mated.
She rubbed her hands with glee as she spotted Topaz skulking across the yard. The poor tom looked downright depressed. “Cheer up, Topaz. Our handsome prince has at last settled with a bond mate. You did tell him about the strawberries and honey? And the peaches?”
Topaz nodded grimly. “Yeah, I told him, and he took some of all of it with him into the bedroom. No doubt he’ll make good use of them. He won’t wait much longer to get the mating done. The prince sealed Sandman’s eye and lips shut and ordered me out. I just hope Talon has better luck with Saylym than I’ve had with my sweet Celine.”
“Pish-posh.” Eldora sniffed. “Celine’s always been a bit snooty, comes from being the queen’s Futhar. Once you mate with her, she’ll be just fine. You mark my words, Topaz. Celine is head over heels in love with you, she just doesn’t know it yet.”
Topaz smirked. “I can’t wait to get her head over heels.”
Eldora snickered. “Is that position possible?”
“The way I do it, it is,” Topaz replied smugly.
“And just how many dainty, Persian kitties have you…molested?” Eldora asked.
“Celine will be my first. She’s mine, Eldora. She’s staying mine. I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy, if she’ll let me.”
Eldora grinned. “Well, just make certain she realizes that or first chance she gets, she’ll sashay back to Queen Helayne. You can bet that if she gets inside that palace, you’ll never see her again.”
Topaz nearly strangled on the hairball lodged in the back of his throat. His gold eyes glittered with rage. “Celine’s going nowhere. Certainly not back to Helayne.” He grinned devilishly. “Our little witch is fertile. Before morning, a baby prince will be resting snugly inside Saylym.”
Eldora gave a crazy cackle that caused Topaz to arch his back. “What? You know something I don’t know, witch?”
She shrugged her bony shoulders and snickered. “Oh, I guarantee it. Come on, Whiskers. I can show you where there’s a hellishly big rat hiding in my house. You can take Celine her favorite treat.”
Topaz fell into step beside her, licking his lips. “Yum-yum. I’m hungry. Cake and champagne, while delicious, is not very filling. Chasing after a potential mate works up an appetite. Know where there are two rats?” He paused. “Just what do you know that I don’t?”
Eldora gave the cat a secretive grin. “Wait and see, Futhar. Wait and see. You will know soon enough.” She cackled wildly. “Yes, you will know soon enough.”
* * * *
Talon prepared the bedroom with his bride’s seduction in mind. That was his ultimate goal. Seduce her. Bed her. Get the deed done, as Topaz would say. Three thrusts and it’d be over. Only—he didn’t want it to be over in three thrusts.
He paused to look around, pleased with his efforts.
Oh, yeah, he definitely wanted to take his time seducing his mate.
That had always been his ultimate goal. But when he’d had those first lustful thoughts of seduction, he hadn’t expected the witch to be his bond mate.
Now that she was, seducing and bedding Saylym took on a whole new meaning, a whole new degree of feeling, caring and responsibility. That made it different from a temporary seasonal joining. He wouldn’t be walking away once it was over.
What if he hurt her?
He already knew she was small and tight. He was endowed. When they bonded, they would enhance and share their thoughts. He had heard the enhancement could be mind-boggling at best. A supernova charge of power and electrical energy rippled between bond mates. It would break his heart if he injured her in any way, but he could see no way around causing her some pain. It was inevitable. And the mind lock, he had no idea what to expect there, not with Saylym.
Though she’d had no choice in the matter of ritual bonding with him, he felt it was unfair to initiate her into the full scope of bonding in a lukewarm setting, and unfair to take her in a cold, indifferent, three-thrust mating.
His mate was a beautiful woman. And as such, she deserved more. His mate. There was something about those two words that sent heat spiraling straight to his groin. His mate. His woman. He would do anything to make her happy.
“My aim is to always make my queen happy.”
His father’s words suddenly hit him and he understood, at last, what his father had been saying. Darak’s queen wanted grandchildren and the king was seeing to it that she got what she wanted to make her happy.
Talon nodded. “All right, Father. I understand.”
But Saylym deserved better than him.
Had he told her he loved her?
He’d sworn his love to her, but had he actually told her? He wasn’t certain he understood the difference in love and lust. He wanted her, badly. Everything in his body ached with the wanting. She deserved his love. He would strive to make sure she never had any doubts about his love for her. He owed her that much.
At a slight flick of his wrist, the room suddenly glowed with hundreds of rose-scented tapers. Their soft flames flickered quietly, filling the room with inviting warmth. He scattered wild rose petals across the floor, wild rose blossoms that reminded him of his mate’s unique favorite fragrance.
Talon sprinkled rose blossoms over the fresh, red satin bedding, crushing a few between his fingers. Immediately a pungent, aromatic fragrance filled the room, teasing and delighting the senses.
In the far corner of the room, a small lagoon—large enough for two—shimmered like emerald green satin. The illusion of a rippling waterfall splashed into it like summer rain. Around the glistening edge of the water, dark green, leafy plants gave it a lush, tropical setting.
He scattered pink lotus blossoms in the pool, along with vials of his favorite fragrances of myrrh and cyprinum. It was skilled seduction at its best. He intended for Saylym to receive pleasure from their joining.
Yes, he would storm the Bastille, as Topaz said, but in conquering her, he’d surrender his heart into her care. He’d already surrendered his heart. Maybe it wasn’t love he felt for her, but it was a giving of himself he’d never been willing to share with anyone else.
Once joined, they would no longer be separate beings, but their lives, their very hearts would beat as one, forever be as one. His blood pounded thick in his body. He could feel the mystical rhythm, the sensuality of Beltane that had built and built inside him.
It left his limbs feeling hot and heavy, his mind sluggish. He’d never felt this pagan, this craving for a ritual bonding. It was physically potent, punching him with the force of its strength.
And it left him balancing sharply on the keen edge of desire.
With the back of his hand, he wiped beads of perspiration off his brow, off his top lip. He paced the floor, agitated.
What was taking her so damned long?
Tonight—changed everything for them for the rest of their lives.
Talon blew out a shaky breath and placed a bottle of chilled wine and the tray of assorted meats and cheeses on the bedside table. He held out his hands amazed to see how unsteady they were. Damn it. He couldn’t believe he was this nervous.
How many witches had he seduced through the centuries?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what to do. So why in hell was he so shaky and unsure? Because, he’d never seduced a witch who was a virgin or his mate, that was the simple truth. And that was what made this different. Damned different. His mate had been touched by no other waken. It made him feel that much more possessive of her. She wasn’t just any witch. Saylym was his witch. His. And he had died a thousand times waiting to make her his.
He heard a slight noise. Talon’s heart skipped a beat and he whipped around to face his bride as she entered the room. His mouth gaped. His heart skipped several more beats then settled into a rapid rhythm. Fo
r the life of him he couldn’t draw his next breath.
Fierce heat slammed into his body with the force of a blow to the gut. It started at the top of his spine and raced all the way to the tips of his toes. His body jerked, clamoring for hers. He was going to die right here before he ever even touched her. He inhaled, finally. Slowly exhaled.
She wore nothing but a damp towel. A clingy, short, damp towel that left her slender thighs peeking at him just below the hem and little to the imagination. His hungry gaze slid over the full curves of her breasts that spilled over the top of the miniscule towel. His fingers itched. His belly clenched. His cock rose to instant attention. Talon swallowed hard. Gods, have mercy!
Her skin looked dewy and as velvety as the rose petals he’d crushed between his fingers. Her mouth. Gods, her mouth, as usual, drove him crazy with erotic thoughts of where he wanted it on his body. He couldn’t wait to feel her velvety tongue on his aching shaft. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted badly to be inside her.
“I forgot my robe…I…uh…” Her words drifted to a slow halt as she suddenly stilled and looked around the room wide-eyed. She parted her lips, but no words escaped. Saylym simply stared, slack-jawed.
Their eyes collided, and held. Color rushed into her face as she fumbled with the towel, holding it securely around her body.
* * * *
Saylym touched her tongue to her dry lips.
She knew what this meant, what he planned. She just didn’t know if she was ready to be seduced.
Too late for second thoughts now, girl, the man has been seducing you since the first moment you saw him leaning against that lamppost. And you allowed him the privilege.
Talon moved toward her, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. The hand he held out to her trembled. His gaze was filled with hunger. “Will you trust me, La-Scheme?”
