by Renee Jordan
I tried to remember how I had tapped into my magic an hour ago. It seemed so natural, an instinctual necessity that guided my power. How would I learn to control this power? It could be so useful. The Moon Tear Spring called to witches. It probably led me here. It's why I choose Moonrise over all those other places when I fled from Burt. I hadn't even realize it had beckoned to me.
And others would come. Forrest and his deputies would need my help if I could figure out how to use my magic. There had to be a way to learn. Maybe I could find out on the internet?
Forrest walked over when the paramedic finished her exam, his muscles painted blue and red by the flashing lights. He sat down on the porch beside me, his arm going around my shoulder. I leaned my head against him, closing my eyes.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Where?” I murmured. “We're home.”
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”
I blinked. Veronica's blood stained our bed. She was hurt because of me. “No.” Tears brimmed in my eyes.
“She'll be fine. She's a fighter.”
I sniffed. “Yeah.” But she's not as much of a fighter as Forrest. “You resisted his magic. Veronica couldn't.”
“My beast is stronger than hers.” Forrest's voice grew distant, withdrawing from me. “It's harder to contain.”
I hugged him. “Is that why you have the tattoos. They're magical, right. Like a totem?”
“Totem?” Forrest asked.
“Christian said my, um, tattoo—”
“Your tramp stamp?”
I bristled. “I'm not a tramp, Forrest.”
“You get so cute when you're upset,” he laughed.
I shook my head at him. “Well, it's a focus for my power. Christian had one, too, the bear on his chest.”
Forrest nodded. “I really don't know a lot about magic.”
“Neither do I,” I muttered. “But your tattoo is magical, right?”
Forrest took a deep breath, his body tensing. “I...when I was younger and first changed, I...I was out of control. I was a monster. I...did things I regret. I had to hide myself in the woods when the full moon came. I was afraid...”
I hugged him tighter. “And the tattoo chains your beast?”
“It gives me control over the beast. Mostly.”
“Like tonight, when we visited the spring, you almost lost control.”
Forrest looked at me. “But you were there to help me. I...I have to be careful on certain full moons. It was a passion moon the first time I changed and...”
“It's okay.” I rubbed his back. “It wasn't your fault.”
“No, it was the beast. And the beast is a part of me.”
“So how did you get the tattoo?”
“A witch gave it to me. He was a traveler.”
I froze. “A...traveler?”
“He never gave me a name.” Forrest frowned, looking down at me. “He had these brilliant, green eyes. Not unlike yours, Kotie.”
Was he talking about my daddy?
“He gave me the tattoos, and I promised to guard the Moon Tear Spring against any who would use its power.”
Could it have been my daddy? Was that where my power came from?
“You're trembling,” Forrest said. “What's wrong?”
“My momma...she used to talk to me about my daddy.” I swallowed. “They had a one night stand. But my momma, she loved him dearly. She always talked about him, called him a traveler. And...she said I had his eyes.”
Forrest stared at me for a moment, his brows furrowing. “And you think...?”
“I don't know. But...I don't think it's a coincidence that I ended up in Moonrise. That spring is important.”
“Kismet,” Forrest nodded.
“You sound like Christian,” I groaned. “He kept using that word.”
“The Traveler used it. He always said it was kismet that he met me.”
“I want to help you protect the spring.” Forrest opened his mouth, and I hurriedly added, “I think that's why I'm here. Tonight, we protected it together.”
His mouth closed. “I...I guess so. But...it's dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt.”
“I'm not a china doll, Forrest. The only way to fully protect is to lock me up.” I looked at him. “Do you want do that?”
“No, Kotie.”
“Then I'm helping.”
He worked his mouth. “Maybe.”
I glared at him.
He met my gaze without flinching, the force of his personality crashing into mine. I wanted to look away, to be cowed like one of Forrest's pack. Well, I wasn't a packmate, I was his mate. I couldn't let him dominate me. That's not the way a healthy relationship works. I held my ground. I didn't flinch.
“Fine,” he snarled.
I leaned up and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you.”
“I don't usually allow such defiance,” he muttered. “But...”
“I'm your mate. It's allowed,” I giggled.
“It's allowed,” he nodded. “But if you weren't...well, my pack only follows me because I'm the strongest. I can't ever lose in their eyes against a real challenger.”
“You won't.” I leaned against him and sighed. “Now I just have to figure out how to use my magic.”
“There's someone in Moonrise that can train you. A witch.”
“Really? Who?”
Forrest's grin grew. “You met her tonight.”
I frowned, trying to think of who he was talking about. I only met one...my eyes widened. “Really? Penny?”
Forrest laughed. “She's a powerful witch.”
“Penny?” I asked again. “She seemed like an airhead.”
Forrest laughed harder.
* * *
Burt stepped into Mother MacCready's rickety cabin. It was built on stilts over a brackish pond in the Everglades. Burt pushed his blond hair back as he stepped in. Fear gripped his heart. It had been two weeks since Kotie disappeared.
Master's going to kill me, Burt thought for the millionth time. All I had to do was keep track of her.
Burt needed to find his wayward girlfriend before his Master returned. The young man shuddered at the pain he would receive if his failure was discovered. Burt was growing desperate. He had tried to use his magic to locate Kotie on his own, but his scrying hadn't work. Divination was never one of Burt's talents.
That's why he had driven down here. No witch was stronger at divination than the Swamp Mother.
Her cabin was decrepit. The floor strewn with rotting food. The stench churned Burt's stomach. Skulls of small rodents and snakes dangled from strings from the bare rafters of her cabin. Arcane markings—stars, circles, pentagrams, mandalas, and more—were painted in black and red across the floor and walls.
It was all an act. A charade to impress tourists and the gullible. Burt had glimpsed the nicer house through the trees beyond this rundown shack. The Swamp Mother's real home.
Mother MacCready was a pile of rags and wild, gray hair sitting before a table. Her face as wrinkled and weathered. She cackled as he approached, her toothless gums flashing behind withered lips. Burt walked forward, sitting on the other side of her wobbling table.
“What do you want of the Mother?” she hissed, waggling her tongue as she spoke. Only one eye opened, yellowed with jaundice.
“I need to find someone,” Burt answered. “I have a donation.”
The Mother never charged, but somehow her powers only worked if you gave a good donation.
She produced a battered, tin bowl. Burt dropped the wad of twenties in.
“Did you bring a personal belonging of the woman?”
Burt pulled out a plastic sandwich bag and pulled out a pair of Kotie's used panties he found in the hamper, dropping it on the table. “I've barely touched them. You should get a clean aura off of it.”
The woman straightened. “You're a practitioner. You hide it well.” Her voice no longer hissed, but sounded warm, normal.
“Yes.�
�
The Swamp mother reached out, pulling a wooden chest closer, opening it up. She reached in and produced a crisp map of the United States and a plumb bob, a weight dangling from a string. She gripped the panties in one hand and held the bob over the map.
Burt's tattoo over his heart itched as Mother MacCready unveiled her power. The bob began to swing in a gentle circle across the map. The witch lowered her hand, and the bob stopped on the map in western Montana.
Excitement and hope churned in Burt's stomach as he leaned in to read the name of the town the bob rested on.
“Moonrise,” he whispered.
“That's where she is,” the Swamp Mother answered.
This time, Kotie, I'll lock you in the fucking basement.
To be continued...
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Hot Preview of “Feathery Discipline”
“I will pay you $100 an hour.”
My eyes popped. “That's very generous.” His eyebrow raised; I flushed. “Sir,” I quickly added.
“You are going to earn every cent.” He glanced at his watch. “It is 6:53. Start cleaning.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked around, not really sure where to began.
“The living room,” he suggested.
He led the way. A large TV dominated this room, along with several leather recliners and a single, small couch, almost a love seat. I decided to dust first, setting my bucket down, and pulling out my feather duster. He sat on the leather chair and I could feel his eyes on me. I started on the shelves, gently swiping away the dust. Some were high and I had to strain to reach them, all too aware of my skirt riding up, his eyes drinking in my curves.
A little harmless panty shot was worth a hundred an hour. I doubt strippers make that much money.
I worked my way around the room, putting a little sway to my hips, a jiggle to my breasts. My panties were growing soaked as my excitement built. I had a captive audience. He couldn't take his eyes off my curvy body. It was like Issy always said, guys wanted some meat on their steak.
I reached the shelf that ran above the chair he sat in, drilled into the wall. I would have to reach over the chair to dust it. He didn't move. I leaned over him, my breasts hanging in his face as I strained, his breath warm on my cleavage. I slowly whisked my duster across the knickknacks, my breasts heaving, one sharp breath away from a wardrobe malfunction.
I kinda hoped I'd have one. I had never felt so desired before. And by such a handsome billionaire.
“You are doing an amazing job, Miss Alexandra.”
“Thank you, sir.” I shivered; his voice seemed to vibrate through me, right down to the hot ache between my thighs.
“Such dedication. I want you to make sure that shelf is very clean. In fact, I think it would be easier if you knelt on the chair. You could reach better.”
“But then I'd be sitting on your lap.”
“If that's what it takes to clean my home. You did say you would do anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
My chubby thighs squeezed around his body, pressed against the iron of his legs. My curvy ass rested on his crotch—he was hard as stone. I reached up, burying his face between my heavy breast, his cheeks rough against my sensitive flesh. My nipples ached against the uniform's fabric and my hips twitched, grinding on his cock, his girth pressing against my clit; sparks shot through me.
“You seem flushed, Miss Alexandra.” His hands, so strong, squeezed my thighs. “You are working so hard!”
“Thank you, sir!” I panted, squirming more. I couldn't believe this was happening.
“Keep dusting.” His hands pushed beneath my skirt. “Keep working your duster. You need to make sure it's clean.”
“Yes!” I moaned. My ass clenched as I thrust forward across his pants.
I worked harder, really polishing his pants with my thong, my spicy cleaner wafting into my nose. His hands reached my plump ass, pulling me harder against him. His lips sucked at my cleavage, teeth nipping my ample flesh. The chair creaked with the vigor of my cleaning and my duster fell to the floor so I could cradle his head. My bodice slipped, a wardrobe malfunction, and my fat nipple went right into his lips.
He sucked hard. My hips jerked, grinding hard into him, my clitoris scraping across fabric. A throaty groan exploded from my lips. His hands squeezed my ass as fireworks burst inside me. My hips kept undulating, my clitoris demanding more sensations.
“Yes! Mr. Draven! Yes! I'm cleaning so hard! Can you feel it?”
If you want to read more of this sexy, BDSM romance, Feathery Discipline (Alexandra's Tale) is available from Amazon and is free to borrow for Kindle Unlimited subscribers!
Other Romances by Renee Jordan
Check out Renee Jordan's catalog of steamy romances on Amazon!
Curvy Maids: These plump and lovely maids find love in the most unlikely places with the hunky billionaires they work for and discover desires they never knew they had. Steamy tales full of desire, sex, and kinky submission to the men they love.
Feathery Discipline (Alexandra's Tale): Alexandra founded her cleaning service, Curvy Maids, and is surprised by the turns of life. When the older, distinguished billionaire Mr. Draven hires her, she enters a world of sultry submission. Her heart beats wildly for the Mr. Draven, but does the powerful man love her back? And when the handsome, African American billionaire, Mr. Curtis, enters the picture, Alexandra is unsure which billionaire to give her heart to.
Love's Leash (Issy's Tale): Issy, Alexandra's best friend, has arrived in Seattle, eager to strut her stuff in the Curvy Maid's outfit and have some dirty fun with the billionaires. She didn't count on having her heart torn between two hunky billionaires: Mr. Chevalier, a handsome Frenchman, or Mr. Curtis, a powerful Black man. Which billionaire should she give her heart two? Which one actually loves her back?
Lacy Bonds (Veronica's Tale): Veronica wants a better life. Her boyfriend's a loser that sponges off of her, and her two friends Issy and Vera have discovered love with billionaires. Wanting a change, Veronica dons a curvy maid's uniform and works for Mr. Marsden. Pain fills her handsome billionaire. He grieves the death of his wife. Veronica wants to heal him, but does Mr. Marsden love Veronica or the memory of his dead wife he sees in her?
About Renee Jordan
Renee Jordan has a dirty imagination, and wants to share all her naughty stories with you! She loves strong men and the hot women they master and love! She wants to share all her tales of true love and happy endings with you.
Renee is from the romantic plains of Texas but has relocated to the rainy Pacific Northwest where she has fallen in love with the gorgeous beauty of the Puget Sound and majestic Mount Rainier.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One: Escape
Chapter Two: Miss Maggie
Chapter Three: Safe
Chapter Four: Firelight
Chapter Five: A New Beginning
Chapter Six: Afternoon Delight
Chapter Seven: Shadows
Chapter Eight: Crimson Moon
Chapter Nine: Dark Magic
Chapter Ten: Tears of the Moon
Chapter Eleven: Answers
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