Black Mountain Magic (Kentucky Haints #1)

by Megan Morgan

  She undid the button on his jeans and eased down the zipper. Her heart raced, her ears open for anyone entering the house. She squirmed her hand inside and rubbed over the soft, warm cotton of his underwear. He was fully hard.

  “We keep owing each other one, we’re never gonna pay off our debts.” He huffed. “Dangerous business, that.” He stroked his fingers up her back, and even through her jacket, the sensation was keen.

  “Very dangerous.”

  She worked his cock out, hot and slick, and smoothed her palm over the head and down the shaft. She gripped him and started stroking, not gentle or slow, because any minute they could be interrupted and she didn’t want to leave him suffering.

  He made quiet grunting sounds against her neck and gusted warm breath across her skin. Her hand grew slicker, the wet slap of flesh obscene in the quiet darkness. The scent of his arousal filled her nose. She ached, deep in her core, filled with longing for him.

  Breathy growls dissolved into soft, encouraging moans. He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged gently. He wiggled his other hand under her shirt to knead one of her breasts through her bra.

  “Oh God, woman.” He tightened his grip in her hair.

  She quickly covered the head with her other hand. Wet heat filled her palm as he pulsed in the circle of her fist. He growled louder, and his teeth grazed her sweat-damp throat. She closed her eyes as he shuddered against her. The musky smell intensified. If only she could roll around in that scent, get it all over her and never wash it off.

  He sagged and breathed hard against her shoulder. He continued to twitch in her hand, but the release had stopped.

  She turned her mouth to his ear. “You better have more for me later.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” His voice came out thick. “I got more than enough.”

  She straightened up. “So I see. Messy boy.”

  She walked to the kitchen and washed her hands. She was slick between her thighs, ready for more, but she would have to ignore that for now. They would already get suspicious looks when they walked outside.

  Deacon joined her in the kitchen, pants done up, looking proud of himself.

  “I won’t be long.” He kissed her. “I just gotta help get those things in the pit.” He slung an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll get you back to the farm first.”

  She would climb him like a tree later. Sit on his face. All those crazy porn things.

  “Hurry home,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Chapter 15

  Lorena crashed hard when she crawled into Deacon’s bed, as exhaustion finally overwhelmed her. She awoke to his warm, solid body pressed against her back and kisses on the nape of her neck. He smelled like a campfire, but more acrid.

  “What time is it?” she murmured.

  “Little after three. You run into any Wolvites on your way over?”

  “No.” She spoke in a groggy haze. “You?”

  “Just dead ones.” He squeezed her hip. “You stay here and snooze, I’m gonna grab a shower. I know I reek, I can smell me.”

  She snuggled into the pillow. His bed was outrageously cozy, like being on a feather-stuffed cloud. She nearly asked him where he’d gotten his mattress, but she fell back to sleep too fast.

  She awoke again sometime later, with Deacon against her back once more. This time he smelled like soap and shampoo, and his skin was bare against hers. Streaks of light painted the ceiling. He breathed slowly and his arm rested heavy across her. She closed her eyes again.

  They slept on and off as the sun rose. They would wake up and grope and kiss a little, then doze off again before arousal could fully overtake the need for sleep. Eventually, they woke up enough to culminate the building desire, with the sunlight spilling through the window and across the bed. They only parted long enough for Deacon to get up and retrieve a condom.

  His thickness filled her, her brain still fuzzy, her limbs heavy, the experience dreamy and surreal. They were gentle and slow, as they kissed and moaned softly against each other’s sweat-damp skin. He licked and nibbled at her neck. She dug her nails into the soft flesh of his shoulders and he growled.

  His stamina seemed unrelenting, and after a while, he slid out of her, when she’d grown desperate and hot and pliant, and made her come with his fingers and tongue. Then, while she still shivered, he slid back into her. He made her come again, so she was nearly delirious by the time he reached his own climax. She clung to him weakly and enjoyed the tremors of his big, powerful body on top of her, and his gasps and growls in her ear.

  They lay tangled in the sheets for a while and basked in the afterglow. Insipid words wanted to pass over her tongue, like the fact no man had ever done anything like that to her before. She was too lazy and blissed-out to speak, and perhaps that was for the best, so she didn’t make a fool of herself.

  Maybe there was something to that Lycan code after all.

  She rubbed her face. “I need a shower too. I have to be really smelly by now.”

  He caressed her stomach and kissed her neck. “You smell wonderful.”

  They started groping again. If she didn’t get up, they would stay there all day having sex. An appealing thought, but she would certainly be needed elsewhere today.

  She hauled herself out of bed, careless of her nudity, which was also quite unusual for her. He looked her up and down, his gaze appreciative and still hungry.

  “I’ll make some breakfast.” He remained sprawled on the bed. “Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom.”

  His bathroom was typical of a bachelor. Towels piled in the corner, a scattered assortment of grooming products on the sink counter, a spotty mirror, and an overflowing wastebasket next to the toilet. Definitely no woman’s touch here, she didn’t have to worry about a carefully unmentioned girlfriend.

  Taking a shower should have been mundane, not the erotically charged experience it turned out to be. She was keenly aware that she stood in one of his intimate spaces. The shower smelled like him, and her imagination kept conjuring him up naked and wet. She used his shampoo and body wash, covering herself in his scent.

  After, she wrapped herself in one of the towels that were actually hung up on a rod next to the shower and walked back to the bedroom. She checked her phone. She had a text from Holden, instructing her to call as soon as she woke up. She decided she was sleeping in today.

  She could have put her own clothes back on, but instead she grabbed a robe from the back of the bedroom door. The garment hung over her hands and fell below her knees, but it was soft and snuggly against her freshly showered skin.

  Deacon stood in the kitchen, dressed in a white t-shirt and track pants. His hair was mussed. He smiled at her from the stove.

  “Hope you don’t mind.” She tugged at the sash on the robe. “Don’t feel like getting dressed yet.”

  He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t mind at all.” He leaned down and they shared a long, slow kiss. When he drew back, his eyes glittered. “I like you in my robe. Smelling like my shampoo.”

  She grinned. Her stomach growled as the smell of food taunted her. “God, I’m starving.”

  “You came to the right place.” He squeezed her, then pulled away and went back to the stove.

  She slid onto a stool as Clem loped into the room. She bent down and patted him. “Scary night, huh buddy?”

  “He got lots of treats, don’t worry. He’s just milking it. You want some coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Clem leaned against her leg and she continued petting him. He gazed up at her with big sad eyes.

  Deacon brought her a cup of coffee. After a few sips, she fell into thought. She tried to organize the events of last night into some sort of coherent framework.

  “How you feeling?” Deacon brought a plate of pancakes over. “I was trying to be careful this morning, what with you being sore and all.”

  “Nothing ibuprofen won’t cure.” She smiled. “I guess I
should tell you what happened out in the woods last night. Even though I can’t figure it out myself.”

  He walked back to the stove. “Something quare went down, I take it?”

  It took her a moment to realize he was saying “queer.” She struggled with some of the dialect here. “Yes. I was in the woods with everyone else, making sure nothing slipped through and—I ran into a Wolvite.”

  He whirled from the stove with a deep frown.

  “It sprung at me, and knocked me down. That’s why my back and shoulders hurt, because it flung me on the ground. It knocked my gun out of my hand, too.”

  He walked over to her. “Jesus.” He gripped her arm.

  “It didn’t do anything to me, though. It didn’t attack.”

  “Thank God.” He rubbed her elbow. “That’s why I was so anxious about you going out there. Bastards can creep right up on you.”

  “Something happened. Something I can’t explain. I’ve never read about it, never heard of it.”

  “What?”

  “It changed.”

  “Changed?”

  “Yes.” She scratched her head through her damp hair. “I was digging in my pocket, trying to get my cell phone out. I thought it was going to attack, so I wanted to make a noise to alert the others. The wind was knocked out of me and I couldn’t scream. I still had the stone in my pocket. You know, the opal? I accidentally pulled it out, and the Wolvite changed.”

  He walked back to the stove. “I’m listening, just don’t wanna burn the bacon.”

  “There was this…light. And then I saw—I saw a man.”

  “A man?” He placed a pan aside and turned back to her.

  “There was this big, tall, blond—man. He spoke to me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said his name was Dafydd. He told me they weren’t allowed to hurt witches. He was angry. He said I smelled like Lycan.”

  Deacon strolled back to her, his brow furrowed. “You sure you didn’t hit your head when it threw you down? You weren’t hallucinating?”

  “No, my head is fine.” She touched the back of it, to assure herself there wasn’t a bump there. “My witchy powers were activated, like the first time I went into the valley. I think the stone was making them stronger.”

  “And they made you see a man?”

  “I think it was the Wolvite’s soul, or its true self, or something. The man came from the Wolvite, like an image from a projector.”

  He scrunched up his face. “Its soul? I never heard of such a thing.”

  “He spoke to me like he was the Wolvite. I think I could see him because of the stone, because it was enhancing my powers. He said ‘they’ weren’t allowed to hurt witches and I had to get out of the woods.”

  Deacon rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Sounds a little crazy.”

  She scowled. “Are you saying I’m lying?”

  “No, I don’t think you’re lying. I just ain’t never heard of such a thing.”

  She set her mug aside. “He was real. Real and solid. He pulled me to my feet.”

  Deacon’s eyes darkened. “He touched you?”

  “He didn’t hurt me. But he seemed angry that I smelled like you.” She slid off the stool. “I took something from him. It was an accident.”

  “You took something?”

  “He was wearing a necklace and I accidentally tore it off him. I still have it, it wasn’t a dream, or a hallucination. I’ll show you.”

  At least she had proof. Holden and Dr. Winston would probably be even more incredulous in their scientific loftiness.

  She walked to the bedroom and grabbed her jacket off the floor. She pulled the necklace out of the pocket, and returned to the kitchen. Deacon was dishing out food on their plates. He froze as she held the necklace up to him.

  “He was wearing this. This isn’t mine. I’m not making it up.”

  Deacon’s reaction startled her. He dropped the spoon he held and it clattered on the island counter. He stared at the necklace.

  “Deacon?”

  He grabbed the necklace out of her hand and peered at the sapphire heart.

  “Do you recognize it?” She stepped closer to him.

  He’d gone pale. His hand trembled.

  “Deacon?”

  “This is my sister’s necklace.”

  Lorena gaped at him. “Your…sister who went missing?”

  “Yes. This is the necklace my Mama gave her for her tenth birthday.”

  * * * *

  “Maybe you met the Wolvite who killed her.” Dr. Winston held the little blue heart up to the light. “Maybe he kept this as a prize.”

  They sat on the front steps of the farmhouse. The air was warm and smelled like fall, earthy and dry.

  “I promised Deacon I’d give it back to him,” Lorena said. “I wanted you to see it, though.”

  Dr. Winston lowered the necklace. “It’s a very interesting story.” He handed it back to her. “Very interesting indeed.”

  “It was real.” Lorena palmed the necklace and folded her arms on her knees. “I wasn’t hallucinating.”

  “I don’t believe you were. Witches are able to see things others can’t, especially if their magic is enhanced.”

  “Do you think I was seeing its soul or something?”

  “Possibly.” The doctor fell silent a moment. “Remember I told you about the witch who was making Wolvites attack people in her village?”

  Lorena nodded.

  “The man who wrote the journal mentions he saw the witch, at twilight, near the woods. She was talking to a man, a man without clothes on, who looked wild and out of place.”

  Lorena squinted. “You think it was like what I saw?”

  “It could have been. I believe the writer of the journal was a male witch, but wasn’t in control of his powers. He was drawn to other witches. He could have seen the Wolvite as a man too, under the right circumstances. Or perhaps if the witch was strong enough, her powers could have extended to others, to allow them to see as well. Or maybe, in the end, it’s the Wolvite’s will and not the witch’s power that allows people to see.”

  Lorena mulled it over. “There’s a theory that Wolvites were once human and that the Lycan bloodline is also derived from those humans. Some turned into Wolvites, and some became Lycan. Maybe the projection I saw was the Wolvite’s true self? The man the Wolvite used to be?”

  “It’s a solid theory.” Dr. Winston clasped his hands together. “Your information will be valuable to our continued research. Unfortunately, we can’t cite it, since we can’t prove it. It shall remain an anecdote, for now. If it’s any consolation, I believe you and I find it fascinating.”

  She opened her hand and gazed at the necklace. “Maybe we can recreate the situation?”

  “We’d have to establish controlled conditions, and get a volunteer. Most witches don’t enjoy our intrusion.”

  Hazel entered her mind.

  She closed her fingers around the necklace. “I think there’s a witch here who was talking to the Wolvites. The stone in the Wolvite’s hand, I think she was using it to communicate. She must have been trying to negotiate peace.”

  “She failed horribly.” Dr. Winston stood. “Will you write me an official statement about what happened to you?”

  “Sure. Do you need the stone back?”

  “You can keep it, if you like. We know the purpose of it now.”

  He went in the house. Lorena remained on the porch, lost in thought. Dafydd killing Deacon’s sister and taking the necklace didn’t make sense to her. Wolvites weren’t known to keep prizes; also, if he’d killed her, it would have been nearly two decades before. Why keep his “prize” for so long? Surely, he had killed others since then. Did he keep prizes from all of them?

  She went inside to find Holden. He was in the kitchen, packing up supplies.

  “I just got word,” he said. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow afternoon. Our flight is at three-thirty.”

  She was
silent.

  “I have more good news, too.” He smiled. “We haven’t found the rabies virus in any of the corpses so far. Dr. Winston is still processing samples from last night, but he’s nearly ready to declare that there’s no virus involved here.”

  “That’s…strange.”

  “It’s wonderful. Unfortunate for your Lycan pal, though. No virus means he has no obvious immunity to it. So they won’t be cutting him a fat check.”

  She tucked the necklace in her pocket. “I don’t think he cares. So if there’s no virus, what the hell made the Wolvites freak out?”

  “No telling. They’re wild animals.”

  “I think we should be concerned about it. This is something the agency should have us stick around and figure out.”

  He shook his head. “I’m tired of hanging out in the sticks. If they’re worried about it, they’ll chew it over with Dr. Winston, it’s his job. We’re going back to our comfortable, well-equipped lab, where we won’t get jumped by Wolvites or hillbillies.”

  “I kinda like it here.”

  “Obviously.” He closed the case he’d back packing. “We’ll pack up the lab downstairs tonight, so we can get an early start to Lexington tomorrow. I’d like to have lunch before we get on the plane. I hate flying on an empty stomach.”

  “I’m having dinner with Deacon’s family tonight.”

  His gaze turned stormy. “You need to help me pack up the lab. This is your job.”

  “We can do it in the morning, it won’t take long.” She turned away. “We’ll still get to Lexington in plenty of time.”

  “Are you really not done fraternizing with the locals?”

  “They’re friendly, Holden. I know you’re not a people person, but you really should get out more.”

  “I came here to do a job, not party.”

  She waved over her shoulder. “We’ll pack up in the morning.”

  “You better be coming back here tonight,” he hollered after her. “I’m done waiting on you!”

  An ache filled her chest and her throat tightened. Her job was finished. No matter what she had with Deacon, she was merely here to do her work and go home. She couldn’t fight fate, or the circumstances of her life. Besides, she barely knew him. They’d been acquainted only a few days, no matter how wild and steamy those few days were.