Witchlight

by Sonya Clark

  Her breath came hard and fast, and her body shook with anticipation. He placed his hands on her thighs and guided her backward. She spread her knees farther apart for balance, one high heel tangling in the comforter. He freed it, running his hand over her calf and up her thigh.

  “Vadim.” She curled her fingers around the metal, barely three inches between her hands. Her long hair tickled her back. Unsteady, exposed, completely at his mercy. “Oh, God, please stop torturing me.”

  He gathered her hair and pulled. A confused mix of pleasure and pain struck her core. She bit back a scream and gripped the headboard tighter. “Please.”

  “Please what?” He clasped her hips, keeping enough distance between them so that it was the only place they touched. She struggled for more but he held her in place. “I didn’t give you permission to move.”

  “I didn’t ask.” Lizzie dropped her arms so the top half of her body was flat, thrusting her ass in his direction and making contact. She rubbed herself against him, his cock hot and thick and hard. She shut her eyes, red flashing behind her lids.

  “You know what happens to a bottom who tries to top?” He backed away and she moaned at the loss of skin on skin. “Punishment.”

  That was all the warning he gave her before the slap of his hand on her ass, bringing blistering pain and a resounding crack. She screamed, more out of surprise than anything else. The pain dissolved into something akin to pleasure and she wanted more.

  “Please,” she whispered, jutting her backside out again.

  Vadim gave her what she wanted. A pattern developed of hard smacks to the rounded flesh of her ass, broken up by soothing strokes of his hand over her heated skin. She clung to the headboard, every sensation sending her deeper into a place she’d never been. It burned there, white-hot but not hurtful. Expansive. Suspended. Things that made no sense because they were so far out of her frame of reference.

  Intense sexual desire surged through her. The knife edge of pain continued to bite in a way that made her toes curl in the high heels, but she’d reached a point where pleasure beckoned. He must have sensed the change. Vadim slowed and then finally stopped the blows, caressing her bottom with the same barely there touches that had been so enticing earlier.

  He rested his head in the crook of her neck, breath in her ear. “Your lovely ass is as red as this room.”

  “What?” Lizzie opened her eyes. The overhead lights were out, orbs of red and gold witchlight pulsing throughout the room. “Did I do this?”

  “It certainly wasn’t me. I was too busy concentrating on other things.” He nipped her collarbone, one hand tangled in her hair and pulling just enough to force her head backward. “We’ll talk about instinct and grounding and all that another time. Right now, I don’t want to talk about anything.” He extracted his hand from her hair and ran it down her side, then over the fold of her hip.

  “I don’t want to talk either.” Her skin burned hot and stretched taut across her body, her nerves bound in knots, the coil of need hooked into every cell twisting tighter and tighter.

  The telltale rip of the condom packet nearly made her sob.

  Vadim slipped a hand between her legs, fingers teasing the inside of her thigh. She focused on breathing, not wanting to beg unless he told her to. She would beg if he wanted. Right then she would have done just about anything at his command. He reached the center of her desire, the sensitive folds heated and slick with arousal. A shuddering moan escaped as he began a slow exploration. So deliberate, and so very careful to avoid her clitoris.

  Such sweet fucking torture.

  He traced her entrance with two fingers, then slid them inside. She hissed, lowering her head and strengthening her grip on the headboard.

  “Is this what you want, sweetheart?”

  “No,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Immediately he removed his fingers. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want.” She didn’t sound like herself anymore. She didn’t feel like herself anymore. Would Lizzie Marsden have let some random hookup tie her to her childhood bed, spank her into an altered state and leave her on the verge of begging? No, she most definitely would not have.

  This new woman, whoever she was, might be someone she could enjoy.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Please.”

  Vadim repositioned her slightly, leaving one hand on her hip. The other trailed down her backside and stroked her tender flesh. The blunt head of his cock followed. He entered her inch by inch, the delicious sensation making her tremble and moan. It might have taken hours for him to be fully inside her, but then only moments to withdraw nearly completely, leaving only the tip. Her arms and legs shaking from the strain, Lizzie thought she’d finally reached her breaking point when he began to slide inside her again, with the same agonizing slowness. He kept her from moving with a firm grip on her hips.

  At some point she stopped trying to move and surrendered to his control. Time had no meaning. Sensation consumed her further with every slow thrust. Sweat dripped from her skin and slid down her limbs. Shades of red and gold swirled in her vision. Pressure built inside her, made of intense pleasure and frustrating need.

  He changed the rhythm to a slow withdrawal and hard, fast inward stroke. Lizzie cried out every time his thick length entered her fully, her throat soon raw. Sensory overload was something she’d struggled with her entire life but for once she could give in to it, safe under Vadim’s control. She could let go, and instead of falling, fly.

  His fingers found her clit, tearing a scream out of her. Hovering on the edge of orgasm for so long barely prepared her for when it finally happened. A thunderous rushing in her ears deadened the sound of her own ragged and broken voice. Red and gold dissolved into black. Waves of bliss carried her along through a darkness that felt like heaven. She was dimly aware of Vadim reaching his own peak, a shout of satisfaction announcing it.

  In moments he had her untied and curled in his arms on the bed. Safe. Sated.

  New.

  She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

  Chapter Twelve

  The rhythmic sound of his hands hitting the speed bag helped drown out the chatter in the crowded, dank gym. Mostly members of the loose nightshade trade and assorted other lowlifes, the others in the gym gave Vadim a wide berth and he reciprocated. All he wanted was a hard workout and to sweat out his mixed feelings about the night before.

  It needed to be just good sex. A bit of fun, the erotic promise of their first meeting coming to fruition. But it had been a gods-damned revelation instead. He didn’t know what to do with that. At best, they could be nothing to each other but a fling. Making a fool of himself for a woman like her—no, that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t a hormonal kid. Although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed all night with a woman and made her breakfast in the morning.

  He grimaced and considered moving to one of the heavy bags. The chatter dipped to a low buzz. He glanced around for the reason, expecting trouble. Instead he spotted Nate at the door, surveying the room. Vadim gave the bag one last punch and walked over, unwrapping his hands and dropping the cotton in a laundry bin next to the wall.

  Vadim said, “Here on business?”

  The detective nodded. “The department sent me down to ask some questions about something. Got a minute?”

  “Let’s walk back to the club. You’re making people nervous.”

  They left the gym and the stares, which ranged from neutral to hostile. Nate shoved his hands in his pockets and huddled into his leather jacket. The light rain and brisk, cool air soothed Vadim, both his body from the workout and his overheated thoughts.

  “You’d think by now people would be used to me,” said Nate. “I’m in FreakTown all the time and everybody knows Calla and I are together.”
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br />   “Most don’t care. You’re still a cop and most of the people in the gym were criminals. So, you know. Awkward.” They walked a block and a half in silence. Enchanted graffiti, a tiger that growled with menace, followed them the length of one building. Nate walked on the inside, unperturbed by the sight. The growls got louder and Nate reached out to pet the tiger’s back, running his hand over brick. The animal’s rumble became a purr as the tiger shrank to a calico kitten. At the end of the building it turned and gamboled back to its starting position.

  Tired of waiting, Vadim said, “What’s the matter, Nathan?”

  “I need to know about something that Magic Born do.”

  “Sounds like you have something specific in mind. What is it?”

  “Handfasting.”

  Vadim stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “What the fuck are you playing at?” A handfasting was the closest thing to a wedding that Magic Born had, since the law forbade them from marrying. It was adapted from old Pagan customs, with couples writing their own vows and sometimes even designing their own ceremonial cloth that joined their hands together. Most made a party of it, inviting those they were closest to. Some did it privately and later let it be known they’d made the commitment. All handfasted couples lived together.

  That was something the law would not allow Nate and Calla to do.

  “I’m not playing,” Nate said. “I’m dead serious.”

  “Don’t do this to her. Don’t dangle what she can’t have in her face and pretend it’s still gonna mean something.”

  “I told you, I’m serious about this. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

  “You can’t live together! What the hell would be the point? Just keep doing what you’re doing now and don’t bring commitment into it.” Vadim shook his head. He’d never have thought Nate would pull a dick move like this. He seemed to genuinely love Calla, so why did he want to rub it in her face that they couldn’t have a real life together? Too angry to speak, he took off at a fast clip toward the club.

  Nate caught up quickly. “I know what you’re thinking but hear me out.”

  “What, you want to practice your bullshit on me before dumping it on her?”

  “You know I love her.”

  “Fat lot of good that does.”

  “She means everything to me.”

  “Yeah, that’s very romantic. The longest she can be off the zone is eighteen hours but at least that means she can spend the occasional night at your nice apartment in Midtown, right? I’m sure there’s a few restaurants in your neighborhood you can take her to, as long as you don’t aim too high. No five-star cuisine for Abnormals, you know. And I’m sure she’d be welcome at department picnics and hey, is there a Christmas party? You taking her to that?” They’d reached the club during his tirade and he unlocked the side door. The urge to slam it shut in Nate’s face was almost as strong as the urge to pound that face in with punch after punch.

  Nate caught the door before Vadim could close it and shouldered his way inside. “Would you listen to me? Come on, you know me better than this.”

  “I thought I did. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I can’t lose her. Jesus.” Nate covered his face.

  “Are you two fighting?”

  “No.” Nate dropped his hands to rest on his hips. “It’s not like that. I told you, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And now, all the talk I’m hearing about this ordinance—if it passes, Calla and I will never be able to see each other.”

  Vadim stared. “What are you talking about?”

  “It hasn’t been made public yet but it looks like it will go to a vote. I would have figured if you were blackmailing Elizabeth Marsden, she’d have told you.”

  “I don’t know anything about any fucking ordinance and you better fucking tell me right now.”

  Nate leaned against the bar, his face gray and slack. “Magic Born would have to have a work permit to leave the zone. Normals would need a permit to enter. I’ve already been told I won’t get one and I won’t be assigned cases anymore that might bring me here. Hell, the only reason I’m here now is because of Decker. When he retires at the first of the year, I’m on my out too, one way or another.”

  It hit like a physical blow, the force of it nearly sending Vadim to his knees. “They’ve already got us penned up in here like animals. What the fuck are they trying to do now? What is this? What?” His throat clogged with words—angry, furious words—but he couldn’t speak. Not even a lifetime of being consigned to the zone and treated like gutter trash by assholes like Grant had prepared him for this.

  He wiped the sweat and rain from his face. “Does Calla know?”

  “Not yet. Decker told me about it. He laid my options out for me pretty clearly.” Decker, the police chief, had according to Nate always been a straight shooter in his own way.

  “This doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that leaves anybody any options. I need a drink. Come up to the office with me. You look like you need a drink too.”

  Nate nodded. “Hell, yeah.”

  Once in the office Vadim poured bourbon for them both and dropped into the chair behind his desk. “Would a slot at the bazaar get her a work permit?”

  “Decker says the people pushing for this want the bazaar shut down. The work permits would only allow a Magic Born to be off the zone long enough for their job. Pretty much the only Normals allowed on the zone would be DMS personnel.”

  “There goes this place. And the livelihoods of every artisan in FreakTown. So we’re just supposed to depend on the rations and hope Lewis and his butt boy Grant don’t decide to destroy them.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll be honest, man, I haven’t thought about this yet beyond how it will affect me and Calla. That’s hard enough to wrap my brain around.”

  Vadim stared at his desk, unseeing. “I always thought they got away with this because they worked so hard to make it look like it was the best thing for Magic Born, as well as being the safest thing for Normals. This is extreme even for the most strident Magic Law supporters. They’re going to do damage to the city’s economy and reputation. And for what? Because they’re scared of a little witchlight being thrown around? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t think this is about making sense.” Nate drained his glass and set it on Vadim’s desk. “I need to talk to Calla.” He paused at the door. “Did you go through with blackmailing Marsden?”

  Vadim poured himself another drink. “Let’s just say that got complicated. I can guarantee you I will be asking her why she didn’t tell me about this.” Not so much asking as demanding. But then he wondered if this ordinance had anything to do with her mood the night before. She’d seemed so sad, hopeless, even. Like someone trapped who wanted desperately to break free. He knew a little about that.

  “Complicated, huh?” Nate’s voice raised in amusement. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”

  “Why do you want to do it? The handfasting. Seems like it would be even more pointless if this law passes.”

  Nate rested one hand high on the doorframe and rubbed his temple with the other. “If a parent has the option to renounce their citizenship and live in the zone with their Magic Born child, why can’t I do the same to be with the woman I love?”

  For the second time in an hour, the concussion of a bombshell hit Vadim. “You would do that?” He shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course you would. You might be the only Normal that would, but I do believe you’d do it.”

  “I’m gonna go see if I can find Calla. She might still be at the bazaar but if she’s done for the day, the sooner we talk about this, the better.”

  “If she says no, send her to me. I’ll yell some sense into her. As for handfasting, talk to Braeden. He knows far more about it than I d
o.”

  Nate smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Will do.”

  “Oh, hey,” Vadim called out. “You said the department sent you. What’s up with that?”

  The cop grimaced. “A zone guard was found OD’d and beat half to death in Riverside, at one of the dens. He can’t remember his attackers or much of anything. I’m supposed to ask around, see if anybody in FreakTown had a motive.”

  That sounded as though somebody had found their target. “Rumor has it there’s a guard who likes twelve-year-old girls. You know, like the little girl who killed herself with an overdose in the orphanage recently. But I’m sure that’s just coincidence.” He told Nate everything with just a look.

  Nate read that look loud and clear. “Fuck.” He shook his head. “Hell if I’m getting involved in that. See you later.” He left.

  Alone, Vadim finished his drink and thought about lighting up a cone of nightshade incense. He needed to be clearheaded though, so he climbed the stairs up to his apartment and took a shower. If Lizzie was able to get the information he had asked for, he and a few others would be spending the wee hours of the morning helping themselves to a warehouse full of food and supplies intended for the city’s largest grocery store.

  He tried to sleep but his mind wouldn’t be quiet. This insane city ordinance and what it would do to the Magic Born occupied most of his thoughts. Intertwined with that sad, infuriating mess were thoughts of Lizzie. Thinking about her did him even less good.

  By late afternoon he’d given up on sleep and returned to his office. He’d been there only minutes when Calla burst through the door.

  “Tyler turned himself in. He made a deal with Lewis, took full responsibility for all of it. There’s a truck full of rations unloading right now.” She struggled to catch her breath, hands twisting her hair into a spiky mess.

  “Fuck.”

  “I can’t believe he did this.” Awe colored Calla’s voice. “I know he won’t give up the names of his friends. They brought food in. That’s gotta mean they believe him, right? That he was the only one.”