Shadow Witch Rising (Copper Falls Book 1)

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  She gave him a sideways glance. “Deal.”

  They walked up her driveway, and she grabbed the bucket for the milk. She greeted Merlin and the three females, then got to work milking. She did the milking, and he insisted on carrying the full buckets for her. She shut the henhouse, then they headed in, going in the back door of the cottage. He set the buckets of milk on the counter, and she poured them into large pitchers, then put them in the refrigerator. She put a pot of water on for tea, barely caught his grimace, and she laughed.

  She nodded toward the grocery bag she'd grabbed from her car. There was rotisserie chicken, a container of red potatoes, and a six-pack of beer.

  “Goddess,” he murmured, and she laughed. She turned the oven on to preheat it, poured tea leaves into the small pot she liked to use. Calder came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzled the side of her neck. Sophie closed her eyes and leaned back into him.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured. “You smell so good.” He nipped the sensitive skin at the side of her neck gently. “You taste good,” he continued. “I love the sound of your voice.”

  “Did you get my message earlier?” she asked, leaning into him.

  “Do you have any idea what hearing your voice say the words 'love you' in my ear did to me?” He trailed more kisses down the side of her neck.

  “I meant it, Calder,” she said, and he held her tighter.

  “I love you, Sophie,” he said in her ear, his breath tickling her earlobe. “I always have. I will love you for the rest of my life.”

  She closed her eyes again, let herself feel his arms around her, his lips on her neck, his warm, solid body behind hers.

  “So what happened?” he asked her.

  “Thea had this photograph of Migisi. She looked like me, but without the crazy hair.”

  “I love your hair,” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head, still holding her tight.

  “I look like her. And the photo was taken several years after she met Luc, after she lost the baby.”

  “What baby?” he asked, straightening up.

  She explained about the journal and what she'd read at work, including about how her magic had started going weird.

  “Is yours going weird?” he asked, letting her go only to spin her around on her feet so she was looking at him. “Kitten?” he prompted when she didn't answer.

  “I feel… weird,” she said with a shrug. “It's probably just the stress over Marshall showing up and worrying about the curse and all that,” she hurried to say, but he'd already given a deep growl. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching her, his gaze so intense she had to look away.

  “And were you planning on telling me this?” he asked.

  “It's not a big deal. I'm fine.”

  “You're not goddamned fine, if you're starting to feel like your magic is whacking out on you, especially given who your ancestor was.”

  Now it was her turn to cross her arms. “What? Worried I'll freak out on you the way Migisi did with Luc?” she demanded hotly.

  He reached for her then, his hand around her biceps, and pulled her close to him, got his face right in hers. “You are not Migisi, and I sure the fuck am not Luc,” he snarled. And then his mouth came crashing down on hers, and she fumbled, trying to get a hold of something, ended up fisting his flannel shirt in her hands. She met his kisses with equal intensity, hungry for him, for the taste of him, for his warmth.

  The tea kettle stated whistling, and he reached around without letting her go, moved it onto another burner and flicked the flame off. He held her closer, kissed her, traced his tongue along her lips, and she opened for him.

  He broke away from her, backing up, running his hand over his mouth.

  Without another word, he ran out of the house with a howl, and she could have screamed in irritation and need. She shook her head and closed the door, noticing his clothing shed just outside.

  “This is apparently the only way I'm ever going to get that man naked,” she muttered to herself. “Another cold shower tonight, I guess.” She headed toward the front door to lock up and saw Marshall standing at the end of her driveway, looking extraordinarily smug with himself.

  She opened the door. “Get the hell away from my house. Do you want to die?” she said, not too loudly, not wanting to draw Calder's attention. “Not that I'd particularly mind, but…”

  Marshall smiled and crossed his arms. Unconcerned. The light from the black post at the end of the driveway highlighted that dimple that seemed to charm so many, those light gray eyes, like powdered steel. “He'll be busy for a while. Poor guy,” he said, not sounding at all like he had much empathy for Calder. “Must be difficult for you, caring for someone like that.”

  “Stay away from him, Marshall,” Sophie said, stalking down the stairs before she even had a chance to think about it. “I swear to god, if you even look twice at him, I am going to rip your heart out and shove it up your ass.”

  An oily, overly-pleased smile spread across his face. “My, my, Sophie. Is that any way for a daughter of the Light to speak? Could it be that maybe, just maybe, you're starting to realize that being a goody-two-shoes isn't all it's cracked up to be?”

  She crossed her arms, watched him. Mostly, she wanted to leap at him and claw his eyes out.

  He laughed again. “You'll come to me, eventually. You'll beg for my help, for my power.”

  “I'd rather die,” she told him.

  “Oh, that wouldn't happen. But… if you don't, he just might,” he said, nodding toward the woods.

  “Was that a threat?”

  Marshall smiled again. “I have no need for threats, Lightwitch. His time is limited and you and I both know it. How far are you willing to go to save him?”

  She didn't answer, focused on keeping her face impassive.

  “You'll keep trying. I will give you that. You are a determined woman. You always have been,” he said, sounding gentle, understanding. She knew better. “But in time, even you have to see that you don't have a chance in hell of doing what he needs you to do. Not in your current state.” He smiled then. “And when you come to your senses, you'll come to me. I am easy to find.” And with that, he gave her a genial nod and sauntered away. A few moments later, she heard a car start up, and then a motor receding into the distance.

  A roar sounded through the woods a few moments later, and Sophie shook her head and went inside, locking the door and checking her wards before slipping into her bed.

  She woke to a soft knock at the front door, and she got up, let Calder in. He fell into bed beside her.

  “I don't want to hurt you,” he murmured. “I could smell you. You want me, and you have no idea what that does to me.”

  “I'm beginning to get an idea,” she said, smiling despite her frustration.

  He cupped her breast in his hand, and she gasped. “I am going to keep it together,” he said, and she wasn't sure if he was promising her or himself. Possibly both. He squeezed her breasts, gently tweaked and pinched her nipples until they pebbled under his touch, and she whimpered. He let out a low growl at the sound, and pulled her shirt up, pulled it off of her, then he rolled her onto her back.

  She lay there under his gaze as he took her in.

  “You're perfect, Sophie,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

  She couldn't answer, and when he leaned down to kiss her, she kissed him back hungrily, determined to let him know how perfect she thought he was, too. How much she wanted him. How much she loved him, despite whatever crap was hanging over them. He started tweaking, pulling at her breasts again, and she cried out already writhing with need as he kissed his way down her throat, her chest, then her cleavage, which he licked, then moaned, as if he was tasting the best thing in the universe.

  “Calder,” she gasped, and he turned his attention to her breasts, sucking, lapping at her as she pushed her body toward him, arching her back, needy for hi
s touch. And he gave it to her. He touched her in a tender, yet hungry and demanding way that had her on edge instantly, and she clutched at his shoulders, at his head, urging him to keep up the toe-curling pleasure. He stopped, and she whined in need. He laughed, a low rough chuckle, and kissed and licked his way down her stomach, stopping to nibble the sensitive skin around her navel, which, to her surprise, had her crying out in need. He trailed his tongue down one of her hips, kissed her thigh. Realization hit her, just as he gently spread her thighs, what he was planning to do.

  “Calder,” she gasped.

  He didn't answer, except for the touch of his lips to her body, and she bucked at the sensation.

  It was torture. He kissed and licked her so slowly, so gently, as if he was savoring every bit of her, and when she tried pressing closer to his mouth, he let her, chuckling again against her, which only served to make her crazier. Her hands were in his hair, urging him on desperately, and he kept up his slow, maddening pace as she felt herself drawing closer and closer to the edge.

  She was perfection. Complete and total perfection, and every gasp, every sigh, every time she cried his name, Calder became more determined to give her every bit of pleasure he could. His beast was going wild, but, to his surprise and relief, seemed grateful to have her like this. He couldn't let his guard down, because the instant he did, he'd risk losing control.

  She tasted better than anything he'd ever had. Her fingers pulled his hair, and even that, he enjoyed. He could feel that she was on the edge, her lushness swollen from his lips, his tongue. He drew her pleasure out, teasing, going slower, lighter just as she drew close, and she wailed in frustration. He smiled against her.

  And then he took her sensitive bud between his lips, and sucked, not exactly gently.

  She went over the edge with a scream, clutching at the bed sheets, her hips bucking wildly in her ecstasy. He lifted his gaze, wanting to see what her face looked like. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, her face lifted, eyes closed in her ecstasy.

  His beast delighted in the taste of her body, the screams it had drawn from her. Of course, what it really wanted to do was enter her body and take her, hard, over and over again, until he was sated.

  To be honest, Calder wanted exactly the same thing.

  He pressed his tongue to her body again, and she trembled, still feeling the after-effects of her orgasm.

  “Please, Calder,” she whispered. “You need this too.”

  “I don't want to hurt you.”

  “You want me. Your beast wants me. What? Does it want me hard and fast? Does it want me to submit to you?”

  At the words his beast nearly howled. Fuck yes, that was exactly what it wanted.

  She was watching him, her skin nearly glowing in the dim lamplight, her body glistening with a light sheen after what he'd done to her.

  “That's what it wants,” she said softly. As he knelt at the foot of the bed, she grasped the iron bars of her headboard, opened her thighs, which had him growling with need.

  “I'm yours, Calder,” she whispered. “Take me. Claim me if you want to. My life is yours.”

  He ripped his clothing off, rolled on a condom he'd had in his wallet (wishful thinking, but now he was glad he'd been foolish enough to hope) and positioned himself between her thighs.

  “Yes,” she murmured at the first touch of his body to hers. He was watching her face, his eyes on hers. She bit her lip, gasped as he entered her, filling her.

  Fuck, she was perfect. His beast was out of his mind with lust.

  He groaned, seated himself all the way inside her, feeling her body tremble beneath him, around him. When he started moving his hips, each thrust was met with a needy moan, or, even better, her pleading, moaning his name.

  “Hold me,” he said, aware of how rough his voice sounded. She did immediately, putting her arms round him, rubbing his shoulders, then clasping her hands behind his neck. As he took her harder, her hands found their way to his hair, grasping helplessly, and when he sent her over the edge again, she screamed his name over and over again as if it was a prayer, or one of her spells, and he followed her right over, focusing as hard as he could on staying aware of her, of making sure he wasn't hurting her. The blissful look on her face hit him hard.

  He wasn't hurting her.

  Once he was done, he replaced the condom with a new one, and she only welcomed him with a whispered “yes,” when he entered her again. It pleased him, more than a little, how often he made her scream his name over the next few hours, as well as the fact that, despite the fact he'd gone for round three and still wasn't tiring, it seemed as if the thought of pushing him away never even entered her mind.

  After their third time, he forced himself to lie beside her and gather her into his arms. She was trembling, and she snuggled into him as she tried to catch her breath.

  He rested his lips against her forehead.

  “Okay?” he murmured.

  She giggled, and it was the single most adorable thing he'd ever heard. “I am more than okay. My god, I feel drunk on you,” she said, holding him tighter. “Are you okay?”

  “While my beast is ready to take you a few more times, I figured you needed a break. I'm fine,” he said, grinning. “Actually, I'm amazing. I've never felt that good. Ever.”

  She laughed, and kissed his chest, and they settled in together.

  “Did it help with the beast, letting you know that you could have me like that?” she asked softly.

  “It did. How did you guess?”

  She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “What it definitely does not want is to be denied, right? It doesn't want to be told 'no' in regard to the things it's craving. You've already said that it hates when I walk away. So I was wondering if maybe I let you know that you can have me any way you want me, it would be happier.”

  He groaned when she'd said the words “any way you want me” and she laughed.

  “It's still not satisfied though, right?” she asked after a few moments. “It wants more.”

  He nodded. “It's an insatiable asshole,” he said.

  She sat up then, and pushed him onto his back, and when she straddled him, took him inside her, he was pretty sure he was about to die of ecstasy.

  They lay together later, and she slept, and all he could do was stare at her and hope they'd find a way to make it work.

  Already, his beast was on edge, wanting to take her again, wanting to mark her.

  That, he wouldn't do. Shifters did that when they claimed a mate. A mark on her flesh, at the side of her neck, would be a sign to other shifter males that she was taken. And he wanted that just as much as his beast did, if not more. But it did more. It intensified a shifter's senses when it came to its mate. He'd be able to smell her, track her, no matter how far she got from him.

  Considering the way things were likely to end, being able to track her would be the worst thing imaginable. Because if he lost his mind, and his beast could track her… He didn't even want to think about it.

  So he wouldn't mark her. But she was his. She'd said it, and it had to be enough.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Sophie woke the next morning, she did so aware of Calder snoring softly behind her, his arm around her waist, his leg thrust between hers. She was aware, as well, of the way her body ached. She was sore in places she didn't know it was possible to be sore, in addition to the way her thighs protested when she tried to move.

  She was also aware that she was in a really, really terrible mood for someone who'd just spent a night making love with the man of her dreams. It was like her worst-ever case of PMS, times about a thousand. She gritted her teeth in irritation and shoved his arm off of her.

  Calder woke with a start. “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “I need some space,” she said, and she knew she sounded like a bitch. She yanked the blanket up over her shoulder, stayed turned away from him. He'd backed off onto his own side of the small bed.

  She could hear
him breathing, and after a few minutes of it, she got up, ready to lose her mind if she didn't have some time alone. “It's time for you to go,” she said, pulling on the clothing he'd removed from her body the night before.

  “Hey,” he said softly. She looked at him as he sat up in bed. “What's wrong?” he asked again.

  “I need some alone time,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said, and he looked away, but not before she saw the hurt and irritation in his eyes. “I should get to work on Bryce's car anyway.” He got up and started pulling his jeans on, and she headed to the bathroom without another word. When she got in there, she turned on the shower full blast, well aware that his scent was all over her. She smelled like sex and Calder, and she was elated about that, but she was so irritated she couldn't even experience the joy of having been with him. It was as if the edginess, the irritation and anger she'd woken with clouded everything else. She knew she should feel differently; she wanted to feel differently. Hell, she wanted to be out there kissing him and holding him and laughing with him the way a normal woman would, but she just couldn't do it.

  She stepped into the shower and the punishing heat of the water made her clench her teeth. “I just need time,” she whispered to herself, remembering the hurt in his eyes. She hated herself for that, for putting that there, when he'd done nothing to deserve it. She knew he'd be blaming himself, thinking he hurt her, that he'd taken it all too far, when nothing could be further from the truth. And she knew that if she told him what was going on with her, that she felt off, that her magic was starting to feel weird, that she could practically feel the Shadow clouding everything, it would only make him worry about her. It would make him even more sure she couldn't break the curse.

  After standing in the shower for far too long, she forced herself to get out, hoping, and yet not hoping, that Calder would be gone. She wrapped up in the ugly terry robe she always used after a shower and peeked out into the living room.