by Helen Harper
‘No,’ he said. ‘There are rules. You will follow them.’ He pushed his body against mine once more. ‘I’m in charge. You will do what I say.’
‘And what are your rules? We’re outside, Morgan. Anyone could wander by. Are your rules that we should act prim and proper?’ I smirked. ‘Because that’s what I expect from you.’
His green eyes darkened. ‘You are goading me.’
‘So dole out your punishment,’ I told him. ‘Give me lines. Order me to do push-ups. Tell me I’m being bad.’
He stepped back, the sudden cool breeze between us making me shiver. ‘You will do what I say.’ His gaze travelled the length of my body. ‘Take off your T-shirt.’
‘Or what?’ I taunted. When he didn’t respond, however, I did as he instructed, baring my flesh. I dropped the offending material onto the ground and toyed with my bra strap. ‘And this?’
He licked his lips. ‘Do it.’
I slid the straps down my arms before unclasping the bra. With my eyes on Morgan’s, I slowly removed it. ‘Is this what you want?’
‘Drop it,’ he said. ‘Drop the bra.’
I did. I didn’t twirl it or tease or do anything other than let it fall. I stared at him, challenging him to continue. If he decided to stop now, regardless of our al fresco position I’d have to tie him to the nearest lamppost with my underwear and work on him myself. Fortunately, he seemed to have a better idea.
Morgan folded his arms across his chest and watched me. Maybe I should have felt vulnerable; I should certainly have felt cold. But the heat of his gaze and the anticipation firing through me was more than enough to keep me warm.
‘Turn around.’
I pivoted slowly, presenting him with my back. I heard him step towards me, the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel adding to my anticipation. Then his fingers brushed away my hair and his lips pressed against the nape of my neck. His tongue dipped out, circling the first nub of my spine before moving lower and doing the same to the next and the next and the next. It was a delicious, slow torment. Clearly, Morgan had a lot more patience than I did.
I squirmed and moaned.
‘Stop it,’ he said, pausing long enough to speak.
I smiled. ‘See?’ I said. ‘Schoolmarmish.’
He hissed under his breath. Grabbing me by the waist, he spun me round so that I was facing him once more. ‘You always have to push your luck, don’t you, Maddy? Even when the going is good and the world is on your side, you can’t settle.’
I let my eyes drift down to his groin. His trousers were still open at the waist which, given the size of his erection, was probably a good thing. ‘That,’ I whispered, ‘is because I always want more.’ I lifted my gaze. ‘But are you prepared to give me it?’
Morgan dropped his hands. ‘I’ll give you whatever you want.’
I didn’t have to ask. He pulled his shirt over his head, not wasting time undoing the buttons, and threw it onto the small pile of my clothes. Then he pushed down his trousers and kicked them off. Even if there had been any passers-by, I wouldn’t have noticed. Who could pay attention to their surroundings when they were facing someone like Morgan in full naked splendour? I stripped off my jeans and leapt at him. No more teasing.
Fortunately, he clearly felt the same way. There was a brief awkward moment as our limbs tangled together and we stumbled back against the wall but it didn’t take us long to extricate ourselves. His skin was searingly hot against mine, despite the cool breeze which swirled round us. I’d have thought that he’d be too embarrassed for sex a la fresco like this, given that anyone could stumble upon us. Maybe the lack of people on the streets was giving him confidence or maybe it was the magic in the air that was making him extra horny. Then again, looking at the hot, feverish desire in his expression, maybe it was just that he wanted me enough to throw all caution to the wind.
I ran my fingers down the nubs of his spine and he groaned. He returned the favour by moving his own hands from my waist and upwards, until his fingers teasingly brushed against the under side of my breasts. I caught my breath. Was I actually trembling?
‘Go on then,’ he husked.
I licked my lips. ‘What?’
‘Tell me what you want.’
I shook my hand, registering his brief flare of panicked disappointment. ‘Actually, I don’t want,’ I told him. ‘I need.’ I trailed my hands round until I could feel his hard length against my fingertips. ‘I need you inside me. I need you to fill me, Morgan.’ I gazed at him. ‘I need you to fuck me.’
‘Done,’ he growled. Morgan’s eyes met mine and, with one swift thrust upwards, he was inside me, filling every inch of me. I gasped aloud and he smiled back in triumph.
Pressure built up, threatening to engulf me every time our hips rose.
‘Morgan,’ I moaned.
‘Tell me,’ he ordered, still watching me. ‘Tell me you need me.’
It was a struggle to get the words out. There was only the barest semblance of conscious thought. Morgan was taking over everything; every atom of my body was screaming just for him. I drew in a ragged breath and bit the words out. ‘I need you.’
It was enough. He half-closed his eyes and thrust one last time. Finally I let go. My body shuddered into his and he groaned, his hands clutching me as he jerked and collapsed against me. Oh, man.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured into my sweat-damp hair. ‘I had less control than I realised. It’s been too long and I wanted you too much. Next time will be better.’
I smiled into his shoulder. ‘My mind is already blown. I’m not sure my heart will take ‘better’. It’s still jackhammering.’ I took his hand and pressed it against my chest so he could feel it too.
‘Not so schoolmarmish then,’ he said.
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘It’s just as well. The Madhatter doesn’t do prim. We’ll have to give you a suitable nickname, too.’
There was amusement in his voice. ‘We did. You called me the Knave of Hearts because I stole yours. I called you the Madhatter because you drove me crazy.’
I drew back slightly. ‘Not because I’m psychotic?’
Morgan grinned. ‘No. Although you might be.’
I sighed, no longer smiling. ‘I wish I could remember.’
He reached up and brushed a curl away from my cheek. ‘I like you as you are, memory or no memory.’
There was a faint skittering sound to our left. We both turned our heads and spotted a long-tailed rat darting past us. I wondered idly whether it was one of the ones that had swarmed over Rubus. I bloody hoped its belly was full because it had taken a great big chunk out of his flesh.
‘It’s not the most romantic of settings, is it?’ Morgan said ruefully.
‘I don’t need romance,’ I told him. ‘I only need you.’ Then I sighed. ‘Although that’s not actually true – I also need to stop the apocalypse. We should get moving.’
He dipped his head towards mine one last time and brushed my lips with his. ‘We should probably put our clothes on first.’
I kissed him back. ‘Only if you insist.’
Chapter Eight
As interludes go, what had just occurred between Morgan and I was about as pleasant as it was possible to get. No, scratch that – pleasant wasn’t the right word. Toe-curling, spine-tingling, orgasm-inducing glorious deliciousness fit far better. Unfortunately, however, it didn’t change what else was happening in the world around us. We were still faced with a range of seemingly insurmountable problems. More’s the pity. Surely if Morgan and I could finally get it together, everyone else could fall in line. A girl could dream.
We were on the verge of entering the bogles’ neighbourhood when there was the same ground-shaking tremor as there had been during the confrontation with Rubus. In theory we were now better prepared but in practice Morgan and I were flung unceremoniously to the ground.
I tried to flip back to my feet in the sort of lithe movement that someone who’d just shagged the brains out of the sexies
t man on the planet should be able to achieve. Alas, my body wouldn’t respond the way I wanted it to; I suspected that I looked more like a writhing worm than a dancing faery.
It was probably just as well. Before I could try to stand up for a second time, several red-tinged clouds appeared. And it wasn’t rain that suddenly fell from them – it was droplets of fire.
Morgan bellowed a warning and rolled towards me, sprawling his heavy body on top of mine to protect me. Mmm.
‘Ready for another round?’ I purred. A fiery globule landed on my head, singeing my hair and abruptly changing my mind.
‘Bus shelter,’ he said through gritted teeth after he’d helped me extinguish the flames. ‘Eleven o’clock.’
We made a dash for it, scrambling up and sprinting for cover. The fiery rain was picking up speed, the droplets hissing wherever they landed until the whole street sounded as if it were alive.
‘Gasbudlikins!’ I yelled, once we were under the shelter. ‘This is nuts!’
‘Tell me about it,’ Morgan muttered.
A larger globule of flame hit the roof of a parked car, melting its paintwork. ‘It’s raining fucking fire!’ Not just that, but the ‘rain’ was getting heavier. If this continued, the entire city would be ablaze before too long.
‘We have to do something!’ I glared at Morgan as if this were his fault when obviously it was mine.
‘We could use magic to attack the clouds,’ he said. ‘But I’m worried that will disperse more loose residual magic into the atmosphere and make matters worse.’
The wind was picking up. Of course it was. Now, instead of falling to the ground, the flaming rain was slanting. I yelped as a few of the smaller drops blew into the bus shelter. One landed on Morgan’s back. Screeching, I slammed my hand against him several times to extinguish it.
‘Hey!’ he protested, jerking away from me.
‘You can thank me later.’ I swung my head round. There had to be something we could do – we were supposed to be freaking faeries, after all. Think, Madrona. ‘The glamour that Rubus created,’ I said suddenly.
Morgan looked at me, apparently still miffed that I’d thumped him to stop him from combusting. ‘What about it?’ He pulled me towards him just in time to stop me getting another singeing.
‘Artemesia said it didn’t contribute to the magic build-up because it was rooted in rowan. What if we use magic against those clouds but root it in something else?’
Morgan’s expression cleared. ‘Boggart Hole.’
I blinked. ‘Well, there’s no reason to be rude about my lady bits.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘That’s not what I was referring to.’ He paused and leaned in slightly. ‘It’s not what I’d call your lady bits either. It’s the name of an ancient park near here. There’s a brook running through it. It has mystical properties. It’s one of the reasons why the bogles live here. We might just be able to harness it.’
I peered out doubtfully. ‘When you say near here, I hope you mean within sprinting distance.’
‘Quarter of a mile,’ Morgan said with a zesty confidence that was obviously exaggerated. For once, I decided not to call him on it. It wasn’t as if we had any other options.
‘Great.’ I glanced at him. ‘Before we go, what would you call my lady bits?’
‘Focus, Maddy,’ he growled, with just the faintest tinge of adorable pink on his cheeks. ‘The sky is spitting fire.’
Yeah, okay. I shook my arms and legs before stretching my hamstrings, not because I thought it would help but because I decided it would make me look less terrified. Then I put my hands over my head to shield myself from the worst of the fire. A moment later, Morgan and I were running like hell itself was hot on our heels, which in a way it actually was.
We did our best to weave in and out of the fiery rain but soon I was covered in minor burns and scorch marks. We moved far faster than any humans could have done but it still wasn’t fast enough.
When we reached a line of trees and ended up in a small wood, I thought that things might be about to improve; at least the leaves and branches would afford us some cover. Unfortunately, what happened was that the foliage started to catch fire and drift downwards. Now it wasn’t just the rain we had to worry about, it was flaming debris too.
I screeched and ran even faster. Just ahead of me, through the gaps in the trees, I could see the glitter of water. Praise be. As I put on one final spurt, something landed on my shoulders. Without thinking, I threw myself into the small lake, startling several ducks that were already nervous enough thanks to the flaming skies. They were far better at dodging the falling fire than I was though – they’d cope.
The water wasn’t deep and there was a scummy layer on the surface. When I finally felt brave enough to emerge, I suspected I looked like the creature from the black lagoon. The fact that Morgan hadn’t deigned to plunge in after me, despite the continuing drizzle of flames, suggested that the lake held more potential horrors than the skies.
I glanced around. The ducks, despite being terrified and quacking in a relentless cacophony, didn’t appear unhealthy. I was probably safe. But perhaps rather slimy, too.
‘How will this work?’ I called. I was already wet; I might as well stay where I was. All the better to save my eyebrows, I figured.
Morgan pursed his lips. ‘You remember way back when you used magic to hit the sniper?’
I nodded. That had been in front of the Travotel, right before I’d had the dubious joy of meeting Rubus for the first time. The sniper had been there for Julie, not us, another little reminder that this world could be a highly dangerous place for almost anyone.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘if we combine our magic and try the same thing but aim for the most reflective parts of the lake, in theory we can mirror the magic and send the water upwards towards the worst of the clouds.’ He looked beyond me. ‘There,’ he said, pointing. ‘About twenty feet to your right.’
I spun round, sending a spray of dirty water with me. The ducks quacked louder in further protest; I could swear several of them were giving me evil looks. ‘Has a duck ever killed anyone?’ I enquired.
Morgan didn’t answer; he was too focused on the reflective patch of water. I sighed and zoomed in on it. The sky might be aflame but it was pretty damned shivery and cold in this lake. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long.
‘Ready?’ I called.
‘Ready,’ he returned.
I heaved in a breath. ‘One. Two. Three.’
Together we raised our hands and started blasting. At some point our magic combined above my head before shooting down towards the water at an angle. It was kind of like snooker, I decided, but perhaps a tad messier.
I couldn’t actually see how it was going to work. The water droplets we dispersed upwards created a fine spray, which initially appeared to do little more than pissing off the ducks. I should have trusted more in the magic, however, along with Morgan’s instincts.
The force of our combined spell sent the water upwards and the magic imbued in it did as he intended. Slowly the fiery globules falling from the sky transformed into nothing more than fat raindrops, spreading first from the lake and then outwards, as if each one were infecting the other. I kept up the stream of magic until I heard Morgan yell at me to stop. Even then I continued for a moment or two longer just to be sure. My hair was already singed and burnt; I wasn’t going to take any more chances.
I cast my gaze over the horizon. The clouds were no longer tinged with red and, as far as I could see, there was no more falling fire. Just as bloody well. I glanced at Morgan and pumped the air in triumph. ‘We did it!’ I grinned.
He didn’t smile back. ‘We did.’
‘You could be a bit happier about it.’
‘I’m happy it’s stopped,’ he said. ‘But the fact that it happened in the first place does not fill me with joy. It makes me worried about what’s going to happen next.’
Spotting the large crowd of people advancing out of the tree
s towards Morgan and the lake’s edge, I also had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next. None of them looked particularly happy and they all had a slightly unnatural green tinge to their skin. Bogles. Lots of them.
Despite the freezing temperature, I was tempted to stay where I was in the lake and let Morgan deal with them. Much as I hated to admit it, he was far better with people than I was. The only reason I started to wade out to join him was that the largest duck was still giving me nasty glares and starting to paddle towards me. Give me angry bogles over furious ducks any day. At least the bogles were unlikely to peck me to death.
Morgan had obviously heard the bogles’ approach. He turned to face them, his palms extended outwards in a gesture of peace. Before he could say anything, though, I flicked back my hair, extricated a sodden, stringy weed from where it had plastered itself against my cheek and cleared my throat.
‘Take us to your leader,’ I boomed.
A small male bogle stepped forward and raised an eyebrow at Morgan. ‘Is she for real?’
‘You’re little green men,’ I called out. ‘What else am I going to say?’
I couldn’t see the expression on Morgan’s face but I was certain he was chuckling. With such a hearty, clever wit as mine, it was nigh on impossible to keep a straight face. The bogles, alas, were managing it well enough. They were probably worried that more fireballs might descend from the heavens.
While I heaved myself out of the lake, Morgan inclined his head respectfully. ‘I am Morganus.’
The lead bogle still didn’t crack a smile. ‘You’re Fey.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why have you come here?’
‘We are looking for the family of Charrie.’
The bogle sniffed. ‘He is dead.’
Morgan remained calm and stoic. He was good at that. ‘We know. That’s why we want to talk to his wife.’ He gestured at me. ‘My companion, Madrona, was involved in his demise.’
