Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3)

by Mandy M. Roth

  I gasped. “I’m too heavy for you. Put me down.”

  “Too heavy?” he asked as if he was coming out of a daze.

  “You look pained,” I returned.

  He did a long blink, his eyes locking on to my neck.

  Clearing my throat, I touched his chest as I spoke, “Mr. Dana’s Father, have you fed tonight?”

  He gave a slight nod.

  “Bummer.”

  Lines appeared between his brows as he mulled over my words. It took him a second, but I knew the minute they registered because the deep lines of concentration gave way to a look of surprise. “Ms. Dotter?”

  “Marcy,” I reminded. “We’ve already been over that.”

  “Yes,” he said, continuing to study my neck like someone had drizzled sweet, tempting honey down it. “I want to be all over you.”

  My lips remained together but my eyes did the talking, letting him know exactly what I thought about his slip of the tongue. I didn’t point it out to him. I was A-okay with the idea of him being all over me. I’m not sure too many women would have dismissed the idea of having a romantic escapade with him.

  He lowered his head, his mouth moving in the direction of my neck. “You smell of jasmine, sage, and something else—old magik, maybe?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I remained silent, letting him hold and apparently smell me.

  Turnabout was fair play, so I breathed in as much of his scent as I could.

  His gaze eased upward, locking with mine. “I should put you down now.”

  “Yes.”

  Again, he didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Marcy

  “Down,” I said, a little firmer than I’d meant to, as I gave Bram’s chest the smallest of pushes.

  With a nod, he lowered me to my feet, but remained close.

  I was left craning my neck to see his face. If we stayed pressed together like this, I was likely to give in and lick him. “Erm? Mr. Dana’s Father?”

  “Bram,” he croaked, before clearing his throat and taking one decent-sized step back from me as if I were the one who might bite. “Please, just call me Bram. Mr. Dana’s Father makes me feel—”

  I swayed as the room spun for a second. “Whoa.”

  His arms were around my waist before I could register what was happening. A small gasp came from me as warmth spread through my insides at the feel of his bare skin on mine. Never had I been happier I’d removed his shirt to keep from getting blood on it. The one that he was currently wearing didn’t escape damage.

  “Your shirt,” I blurted. “I ruined it.”

  He glanced down as if noticing for the first time that I’d gotten blood all over him. Lifting his head, his gaze collided with mine. A sexy grin splayed over his face. “I call this Tuesday.”

  Laughter erupted from me at his understated humor. “While that may be so, I’m still sorry. I can make you a new one. I saw the cutest material when I was in town. It had little bats printed all over it. You could totally rock a bat shirt. How opposed are you to wearing hot pink? I only ask because the base color of the fabric is that and the bats are black—of course. It would be silly if they were any other color.”

  His lips clamped together, and I got the sense he was doing his utmost best to avoid laughing outright at me.

  “Is that a ‘no’ on the hot pink and the bats, or just the hot pink?” I asked, wanting to be clear.

  He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he lifted my injured hand and focused on the cut. “This requires sutures.”

  “It’s fine,” I countered.

  The stern look he gave me said otherwise. “Come. Let’s get you somewhere safe, and I can tend to your hand.”

  “It’s almost stopped bleeding,” I said, flexing my hand in a way that accidentally left the cut pulling open again. Fresh blood began to flow once more. “Oops.”

  “Marcy,” Bram whispered, his hold on my hand tightening. “I’m going to step away from you now. Take my other shirt—the one on the back of my chair—and wrap it around your hand. But keep your distance from me.”

  With a pointed stare, I let him know what I thought of his plan. “Listen, all I want to do is lick you all over, right before I push you into one of these chairs, climb on your lap, and do what I want to you. Keeping my distance is going to be an issue—on my part. Not yours.”

  He said nothing but he did glance at the chair nearest us. One of his brows lifted.

  “I’m in,” I said fast.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  I pointed to the chair with my good hand. “You were considering chair sex. I’m in. Ready?”

  He gulped but didn’t back away.

  “Then you’re not in?” I asked, slightly disappointed. I shrugged. “Weird. Normally, I’m really pretty good at picking up on when a man wants to have sex with me. I could have sworn you were on board with the idea. No matter, but it is making me wonder if I misread Alister’s intent the last time I was staying with him. He seemed really happy when we were done rolling around on his dark room floor, but he might have just been being nice, as to not offend me.”

  Bram’s expression was unreadable.

  “Can you remember to tell me to call him later?” I asked with a sigh. “I forget a lot of things. Maybe I should tie a string around my finger or something. Oh, I know! I can write a note to myself on my arm or something in my blood. Perfect.”

  He took hold of my chin with his free hand. “Tell me more of this Alister.”

  My eyes lit with excitement. “Do you want him to take your picture? He’s an amazing photographer. He’s also very good at crocheting things. He made the bikini I’m in. Want to see the bottoms? They’re my favorite part.”

  He didn’t answer. All he did was stare down the length of me.

  “Bram?”

  He swallowed hard. “I was angry, hearing of you being with the photographer, but now all I can do is picture—” He stopped and lifted my hand just as the blood found a new path and began to run down my arm. Licking it, his green gaze rested firmly on me.

  The air around us seemed to thicken and it suddenly felt as though I’d walked through a number of cobwebs all at once. It wasn’t icky so much as it tickled and felt like someone was dragging the thinnest of strands of silk over my body.

  There was movement by the door, and I caught sight of the spirit of the woman in the long dress. This time, I was gifted a better look at the necklace she seemed to always be touching in some manner. My eyes widened. It was the very same one I had in my bag. The one I’d gotten at the estate sale years ago, where I’d also found an end table for Dana.

  The rosary.

  The woman had a pleased look on her face as she winked, right before she walked through the closed door and out of the vault. Her exit was accompanied by a gust of wind that came at Bram and me. It lifted his shoulder-length hair slightly.

  Bram jerked around, tightening his hold on me as he used his body to shield mine. He snarled.

  I reached up and touched his neck and then his cheek. “No. It’s okay. That was a friendly.”

  “Friend?” he asked, still looking back at the door.

  “Spirit,” I said softly.

  He faced me. “It was a friendly ghost?”

  It was impossible to keep from laughing. “Yes. She was on our side. She’s who told me without words to come into this vault.”

  “She did?” he asked, appearing skeptical.

  I nodded.

  “Is she who unlocked it for you?” Bram questioned.

  I thought more on it all. “I’m not sure.”

  He stared down at me. “How were you able to lock the door once you were inside? Did this friendly ghost assist in that as well?”

  I shrugged. “Might have been her or the other one.”

  “Other one?”

  I leaned slightly and glanced at the door. It was shut, but it certainly wasn’t right. Bram had done a number on it. I bit my lower lip. “I
’m sorry about your door. It’s my fault you had to break it.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said before undoing his shirt and removing it. He took the article of clothing and ripped it apart as if it were tissue paper.

  Stunned, I jerked.

  He then gently set about wrapping my hand. From his expert touch and the way that he was able to secure it with no real effort or thought, as if it was muscle memory, I had to wonder just how often he’d done such a thing in his life. I thought harder on what I knew of him and grinned. “You’re a doctor.”

  As his mouth opened, I could almost feel the protest about to come from him.

  Heading it off, I put my freshly wrapped hand to his lips, and shook my head. “You’re not allowed to discredit all the hard work from your past. You’re a doctor. Period.”

  He smiled slightly. “Very well,” he said against my hand. “I am a doctor.”

  “Pity you’re not open to sex with me. We could totally make a game of your doctoring skills,” I said nonchalantly.

  He stiffened. “You like to speak your mind—whatever that may be.”

  “I do. Saves time,” I returned, lowering my hand.

  He fell silent for a stretch. While his external façade betrayed nothing as to what he was feeling, the turmoil in him was raw and felt like it was my own.

  Unable to help myself, I teared up for him. “What’s wrong? Why are you hurting inside?”

  “You can sense that?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He lowered his head somewhat. “You didn’t misread my signals—regarding sex and desiring you. I do. A great deal. I think I understand why now, but that doesn’t change who you are to my daughter.”

  At the mention of Dana, I gasped. “Is she okay? The thing that was in the hall, it didn’t get near her, did it? So freaky but I have the strangest urge to ask if it did get close to her, did she kick it in the nads—again?”

  Bram touched my face tenderly. “Her mate came for her. She was tired. Jeffrey thought it best that she return home and rest. She wanted to retrieve you, worried about leaving you here with people you’re not familiar with, but Jeffrey pointed out you trust Austin.”

  My hand moved over his. “I trust you too, Bram. And Elis. I trust all of you.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now, let’s get you upstairs so I can tend to your wound properly.”

  For a second, neither of us moved.

  We just stood there staring at one another.

  When his focus became my breasts once again, I found myself reaching up and tugging the crocheted portion aside. It was then I thought I’d managed to kill a vampire without touching him.

  Bram went ghastly white and ramrod stiff.

  I’d just wanted to tempt him, not send him into vamp-arrest. “Bram?”

  He rotated his head in an unnatural way and then looked down at me once more. Small flecks of black were in his eyes again.

  Excitement flared through me and he sniffed the air.

  “Marcy,” he said, his voice tight. “I have only so much control.”

  My eyes widened. “Are we nearing the end of it? Because I really want you in me. What do I need to do in order to shatter what’s left of your control? If you tell me, we can speed this along and get to the juicy bits. Want me to sing Carpenters songs? They turn me on. They might put you in the mood too.”

  His fingers found their way to my right cheek and came just shy of making contact with my skin. The side of his mouth tugged upward. “Marcy, you are either truly crazy or perfect for me.”

  I drew my bottom lip in and bit on it lightly.

  He bent, and I went to my tiptoes in a well-timed moment, leaving his face near my left ear. “The proper thing to do is see to your wound and assure you are indeed safe and sound. Then seduce you into my bed.”

  “Or, hear me out…” Turning my head slightly more toward his hand, I boldly opened my mouth and let my tongue dart out and over his thumb. “We do it like bunnies on the table and then worry about the rest later.”

  He pressed against my body and then lifted me quickly, depositing me on the edge of the table. His gaze darted to the shirt on the back of the chair. A cock-sure smile came over him and I could see the wheels spinning in his head. “Alister made you this top?”

  I nodded.

  “It would be a shame if something were to happen to it during a moment of wild abandonment,” he said.

  Opening my legs, I nodded more, too focused on his lips to think much beyond that. “Yes. Shame.”

  “Marcy,” he said, stepping closer, his groin right between my open legs. All I needed to do was lift my skirt and a lot of fun could be had. He touched my chin, forcing me to look at him. The next I knew, his lips were on mine.

  There was no hope for clear thinking as I grabbed his undershirt and yanked it so hard and so fast that it tore.

  Bram increased the kiss, his hands finding my breasts.

  As he increased the level of the kiss, I felt something sharp skim across my breast. My top gave way, bursting open, what little support it had provided gone. My neverminds were free. From the way Bram grabbed them, and began toying with them, he was happy to be their liberator.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Marcy

  We were a mass of roaming hands and hungry kisses. At some point he made short work of the bikini bottoms I was in, tossing them in the other direction. I was left in nothing more than a blood-soaked skirt, pushed up my thighs.

  Bram tore his mouth from mine and pushed me gently onto my back before yanking my hips to the very edge of the table. He spread my legs wider. One second he was standing at his full height and the next he was bent.

  I made a move to sit up to see what he was doing when his head found its way between my legs. I’d heard the term “seeing stars” used to describe a moment of bliss. I’d always thought it was just pretty prose. Bram proved me wrong as he artfully worked my body into an explosion of ecstasy.

  I was still squirming on the tabletop when he rose, his mouth glistening, and his eyes still a mix of green and black. The grin he cast in my direction had “bad boy” written all over it.

  “You are stunning,” he said, as he seemed to drink in the sight of me laid bare before him. His gaze darkened. “And you are mine.”

  The man could have called me a pumpkin and I’d have agreed to it. Nodding vigorously, I replied, “Yours. Totally and completely yours. Now, hurry up and get in me.”

  His manly chuckle filled the room as he freed himself from the confines of his pants.

  I was still riding the wake of my zenith when he thrust into me, filling me fully. I wanted to move my hips to join in the fun, but his arms slid under them and he jerked my lower half up some, no doubt to account for his height. Whatever he’d done left his body in mine more.

  I thought the moment couldn’t get better.

  Bram leaned over me and lifted me straight up and off the tabletop, never once leaving my body in the process.

  My legs wrapped around his waist as I sank deeper onto him.

  His lips captured mine, stealing my cries of passion. We ate at one another’s mouths, making love standing up, as if we had all the time in the world and weren’t doing this at the absolute worst moment. The only thing that mattered was us—this.

  He kissed his way from my mouth to my neck and I tossed my head back as pleasure built to epic proportions in me. There was a light buzzing in the air surrounding us. Whatever it was danced over my skin, adding to the pleasure and causing Bram to increase his thrusts.

  “Mine,” he roared just as he rooted deep. There was a sharp pinching in my neck.

  “Mine,” I repeated, the word flying out of my mouth without any thought behind it. At the same second, my body burst, reaching a state that I was pretty sure counted as enlightenment.

  The hum of energy around us seemed to explode, mirroring our bodies. For the briefest of moments, I felt as though my essence, my being, had passed through Bram before
returning to my body.

  I gasped, my body still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure.

  Bram held me tight to him, running an arm up my back more. His hand found my hair and he tugged slightly.

  It was then I realized what he’d done—bitten me.

  His mouth was still locked on my neck. Each suck left another aftershock going through me. He stopped and licked the spot before trailing kisses up to my lips. We locked gazes.

  Tell her how you feel about her.

  My eyes widened at the sound of the deep voice in my head. Weirdly, it felt like it was coming from Bram, but it didn’t sound like him. The accent was different.

  Tell her she is our mate—our bonded wife. Tell her she is ours.

  Bram put his forehead to mine, holding me, shaking slightly.

  “Put me down,” I whispered. “I’m too heavy for you.”

  Confusion knit his brow. “You weigh nothing.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  Tell her, Van Helsing. Tell her how you are a fool who is trying to suppress your emotions. That you are only just now realizing that you have been in love with her for nearly twenty years. That you have had her watched since she was in college. That you possess photographs and videos of her from over the years. That you cherish them, keeping them in a safe. Let her know that while your head did not register who she was to you—to us—that on some level the rest of you did. Explain in detail that she is our mate. Then, we shall kill the enemy, and seek out this maker of the bikini we shredded. He shall become a missing person.

  My eyes widened. “B-Bram?”

  Say something.

  He was silent.

  I tipped my head, soaking in his expression as the realization that the voice I was hearing in my head was from what lived inside him—his demon. The other half of him.

  I nearly melted at how sweet it was—wanting to be sure I understood what had just taken place.

  A claiming.

  Bram said nothing. But he did give me a long, passion-filled kiss.

  Van Helsing, tell her what I said!

  Still, Bram stayed silent.