by Leela Ash
With Alcacia dead, Nabradia would rest at nothing, because now she had nothing to lose. Now she truly was a dangerous woman.
Nana would have to destroy the crystals the only way she knew how and she would have to destroy Nabradia in the process too.
She had lied when she told them the crystals could not be destroyed. There was only one way to destroy them and she would have to make that sacrifice, even if it meant she never saw her granddaughter again. At least, her sacrifice would ensure that her great-grandchild came out into a safe world, free of the vengeful queen of Salem witches.
17.
“I suggest we appoint ourselves a new queen. Nabradia is no longer fit to lead the Salem witches. Not if she fled from a mere mortal,” Laila Teneja trilled in her breathless voice as she conversed with other witches over tea three mornings later.
Other witches nodded their agreement. The news had been all over the place about how Joshua’s daughter-in-law had killed Alcacia with Nabradia’s own spell. And what had Nabradia done? She’d fled like a coward.
“She doesn’t deserve to be queen,” someone else agreed.
“Besides, she’s hardly ever around,” Laila continued, pressing her advantage. “Why, last time I heard anything about the bitch, she was servicing some shifter in Archstone.”
No one else agreed with her this time; they had all fallen curiously silent. In a flash, Laila knew, even without turning around, that Nabradia was standing behind her. She turned to face the other woman, shaking so terribly, it was a wonder her teeth didn’t chatter audibly.
“N-N-Nabradia! Um, welcome.”
“Laila,” Nabradia smiled, even as she flicked her fingers. Laila immediately morphed into a fat, dirty, field mouse.
Everyone screamed and held up their feet, out of the way of the mouse, which was scurrying from one person to another. It was obvious she was begging them to intercede for her but then, no one wanted to share in her punishment.
They shooed her away just as they would a mouse and one even kicked the fat mouse in the stomach and sent it flying through the open French windows in the corner. The mouse sailed through the air, screeching and squeaking until nothing more was heard from it.
No one bothered to look out the window to see if she had died from her fall.
“Do I need to turn someone else into a rat to get you fools to greet me properly?” Nabradia demanded.
The witches immediately fell to their knees, their heads bowed as they chorused greetings, none of them heartfelt.
Nabradia sneered. She didn’t care if they hated kowtowing to her, as long as they did it.
Something had changed in her since Alcacia’s death, she admitted to herself as she strode straight to her throne and sank into it. She’d become far less patient —which was saying a lot because she had never been patient to start with. She had also decided to suffer fools less, which was why Luferia was even now scrubbing the entire house from roof to floor to make up for her ill-advised comment that maybe they ought to leave the Weirna shifters alone, having suffered so many defeats at their hands. Palma hadn’t been so lucky; she was now cooling her heels with Alcacia in Alabad for daring to suggest that Alcacia was at peace now. Even Xanthe, the woman Nabradia called mother, who never feared anyone, had been staring at Nabradia with unmistakable fear in her eyes earlier today.
“I hear the witches conference is in a few days,” Nabradia called.
Everyone exchanged glances. No one had the courage to answer. Finally, a brave witch volunteered, “We only hope it was a date chosen by you, our queen.”
Nabradia laughed, the sound cold and frightening, “I didn’t choose a date, you sniveling weasel, as you well know. But that date favors me, for what I want to do.”
She looked so pleased with herself that it struck fresh terror in the hearts of all the women in the room.
“What do you want to do?” someone asked fearfully.
“There’s no point in telling you,” Nabradia laughed. “A wise woman once said all witches are beautiful and all witches are liars; she was right.”
“What do you mean my queen?” someone else echoed.
“I mean, if you want the truth, wait and watch.”
Her laughter bounced off the walls and all the women in the room shivered with fear. What did she have planned?
“I think Megan is avoiding me,” Jack said absently at dinner two days later.
His entire family looked up at him. Joshua had a twinkle in his eyes as he bit down on his cheroot. He never smoked it; he’d never lit it for a single second. But a friend who was an antique collector had gifted it to him years ago and he’d taken to always carrying it about unlit. Derek had once opined that “the old man thought it gave him an air of sophistication.”
Of course, they had noticed that he carried it around a lot more frequently since Nana Lourdes had come to stay with them, but they had all refrained from commenting.
“She’s probably just been very busy at work,” Jeanine chipped in, though her eyes said she didn’t believe it for a minute. “She’s been trying to set up this animal shelter and she wants to change the address she got for it in order to spare the artisans who would have to move otherwise.”
Jack stared worriedly into his plate.
“Listen man, you have to go over there today anyway,” Bo said after exchanging a quick glance with his wife. “Jeanine has been feeling ill this morning and I have to round up the last of the strays over on Route 60. I would need someone to take them over there while I scout the rest of Weirna.”
Jack started to shake his head, but Jeanine’s voice cut in, “Please Jack. You would be helping me.”
She batted her blue eyes for good measure, affecting a helpless mien and Jack chuckled, as she had meant for him to do. Jeanine was one of the strongest and most resourceful women he had ever met. She was anything but helpless.
“Alright, Curly. I’ll do that,” he said. He and Drake had taken to calling her Curly because of her curly head of hair.
She wrinkled her nose at him and scooped two more heaped spoons of peanut butter into her mouth, heedless of Bo’s wince as he watched her.
As soon as he had finished breakfast, Jack was champing at the bit, eager to go. He took Joshua’s truck, following Bo’s car as he drove to Route 60.
A litter of Alsatian puppies were found under a shrub and another small herd of goats were found wandering close by. They were all caged and stowed away in the bed of the truck.
He tried calling Megan as he drove to her office but, as usual, she didn’t take his calls.
The AniVets parking lot was thankfully empty, because he didn’t want to endure the stares of so many people. He bounded out of the truck and some of the staff came to help him with the animals. When they had all been cleared away, he raced up to Megan’s office, taking the stairs two at a time.
When he appeared in the outer office, her secretary looked up, saw him and affected a resigned expression. He noted she didn’t even bother to get up.
Jack knocked and pushed open the door. Megan was on the phone yelling at someone and Jack stood back to enjoy watching her freeze someone else into a popsicle for a change.
She flashed a quick, irritated glance over her shoulder and when she saw it was him, she gave him an uncomfortable smile of welcome that convinced him he hadn’t imagined her cold shoulder these past two days.
Jack ignored her hand motion which invited him to take a seat. He remained standing just inside the door although he had noticed the jam-lock on the door had latched into place, which was just as well. He wanted an uninterrupted, full explanation. They seemed to be going back and forth, going nowhere.
She ended her call and turned to face him, “Jack.”
Just his name… but she hadn’t just said it, she had breathed his name. Her jasmine and apples scent hit his nostrils and he felt passion stir. She was truly the most delectable and attractive woman he had ever met, he thought.
Jack crossed to
her and caught her up in a warm embrace. She stood stiffly in his arms; not rejecting his touch but not accepting it either. What was wrong with her?
He leaned back to look into her eyes, “What’s this about?”
Her gaze skittered away.
“Why are you uncomfortable?” he asked.
Megan licked her lips and then she looked up at him, sincerity blazing from her gaze as she said, “I just feel as if something is going to happen to ruin my happiness. You know, like the other shoe is about to drop or something. Who were those women? What did they want? Why did they go to such efforts to ruin our relationship?”
Jack breathed deeply. He had known she would have questions; it was only natural. But he couldn’t tell her one truth without telling her the other. If he told her about witches without telling her about shifters, the story would be half-baked at best and she would think he’d gone mad.
He melded his lips with hers to distract her. In a matter of seconds, it was him who was distracted.
Her lips were sweet and soft and intoxicating. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she held him close, surrendering to his kisses. Jack’s tongue delved deep into her mouth, sending a wave of sensation through her.
Megan’s nipples budded into tight points beneath her good-girl cotton bra and she moaned, grabbing him closer to her.
“I want to make love to you, Megan. I want you,” he whispered.
Jack’s mouth slanted over hers eagerly giving and taking and undiluted pleasure slithered down her spine. A warm glow started in her belly, familiar in its intensity. Megan gasped as it flowed outwards to her breasts and pooled downwards at the juncture of her thighs.
She wanted him.
His hands dove beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding over warm, smooth silken skin and Megan clung to him, not trusting her legs to support her weight. His lips left hers to trail her cheeks and her neck.
His tongue was licking, stroking, stimulating every inch of her skin it met and she was a quivering mass of desire in few seconds. Urgency ripped through her and Megan groaned.
“I need you,” she whispered.
His hands tightened around her waist as his lips drifted lower still. He kissed her nipple through the thin material of her bra and her breath caught in his throat.
His hands trailed beneath the short hem of her skirt and he grinned against her breast, “I love your skirts, they’re always short and tantalizing.”
“Not to mention the easy access huh?” she whispered.
“That too,” Jack agreed, his voice dark and husky.
His hand edged up the smooth skin of her laps and then paused at the juncture of her thighs. He stroked her through the smooth cotton material of her panties and a gratifying gush of vaginal fluids wet her panties as he touched her.
“I’m wet,” she gasped breathlessly.
“Yes, you are,” he agreed closing his lips insistently on her nipple.
Megan spread her legs as one of her hands hungrily tried to guide his hand to move past her panties to her pussy. “Don’t make me wait. Please!” she breathed, spreading her legs as wide as they would go.
That was all the encouragement he needed. Jack pushed her panties to the side and dipped one hand into her waiting pussy.
Megan arched into his hand and he began to thrust his finger in and out of her pussy in quick, sure thrusts.
“Make love to me, Jack. I can’t wait anymore,” she moaned, almost sobbing with need.
Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa in a corner of her office. He spread her on it and immediately followed her down onto it.
“I want to see you. All of you,” she whispered.
He hesitated and then rose to a standing position again. He ripped off his shirts and pants his fingers almost a blur in his haste. As he did so, Megan lifted herself to a sitting position too and dispensed with her shirt and skirt. She was conscious of Jack’s gaze on her cotton underwear and for the first time she wished she had invested in sexy lingerie rather than plain-Jane cotton all these years.
She bit her lip as she inwardly decided that first thing tomorrow she was going shopping for fancy underwear.
Jack swallowed as he watched Megan take off her clothes. He was stark naked now, his penis jutting out at a ninety-degree angle as he stood tall and proud before her. She was so different from every other woman of his acquaintance, he thought. She didn’t put on airs or apply feminine wiles; she just was.
She looked up at him as she took off her bra and wriggled out of her panties, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “I don’t have any lace underwear,” she said almost apologetically.
Jack frowned. “Is there some unwritten rule about underwear being lacy?”
She bit her lip and shrugged, “Most people seem to think it’s sexier and —”
“Most people aren’t Jack Sivan,” he interrupted, covering her body with his as he coaxed her to lie down. His lips covered hers in a possessive kiss and then his tongue drifted down to her neck. He licked a spot near her collarbone and licked and licked. He started to open his mouth to bite down gently when he realized what he had been about doing.
He jerked backwards. What was wrong with him? He had been going to imprint upon her which would have sealed his fate and hers forever. He’d never been even remotely tempted to imprint on any woman in the past before. So, what was wrong with him now?
“You’re a dangerous woman Megan,” he breathed. She heard him, because she smiled, pleased.
But he wasn’t smiling. He hadn’t said it as flattery. She was truly dangerous to him.
He couldn’t make love to her, he thought. At that exact moment Megan spread her legs, placing one leg onto the back of the sofa and exposing her soft pink pussy to his gaze.
Jack stared at her pussy trying to dredge up the strength to resist but before he could stop himself, he was lowering his head to lick and taste that sweet soft pinkness.
Megan was clean-shaven with a vagina so smooth it almost looked pristine. Her vaginal folds glistened wetly telling him more than words that she was ready for him. Her wetness welcomed his tongue and he moaned restlessly as he lapped at the tiny nub of flesh and wrung soft cries of pleasure from deep inside her throat.
He lifted his head and positioned the fat head of his penis at her tight entrance, before guiding his penis into her warm, willing, wet passage; deeper and deeper and deeper until he was sheathed to the hilt.
Megan moaned, feeling so full of dick that there wasn’t any room left. Then he started to move. His thrusts were rhythmic and the quick plunging and withdrawal made her toes curl in reaction as she, too, started to match the motion of her hips to his thrusts.
Suddenly Jack pulled out of her and she moaned in disappointment. He lifted her to a kneeling position on the sofa and turned her to face the back of the sofa. The posture placed her pussy at a perfect angle for him if he was standing. He grabbed something from the pocket of his pants and her eyes widened when she saw the small object that looked like a lipstick.
“Jack?”
“Shh, trust me,” he whispered. He turned it on and she realized it was a lipstick vibrator. Her body began to quiver in anticipated excitement as he raised it to one of her nipples. The vibrating sensation made her moan as she leaned back against him. Then he moved the vibrator down to her clitoris and she screamed in pleasure as it began to vibrate against the tiny nub of flesh.
Without warning, her body began to contract as she came in wave after wave of pleasure. She was still cumming when his fat penis rammed into her from behind while his hand continued to stir the vibrator on her clit. She screamed in disbelief as the orgasm started all over again.
Megan was awash with sensations from every corner and she started to shake in helpless reaction as he rode her hard and tantalized her pussy with the vibrator.
One of his hands fisted hard in her hair while the other held the vibrator against her pussy and plastered her against his body. Megan was grippin
g the sofa back hard while he hammered away at her pussy.
“Tell me, Megan. Tell me,” he ordered.
She was mindless with pleasure, uncertain what he meant. And then as he quickened his tempo to a dizzying speed and she started to cum yet again, the words burst from her lips, “I love you, Jack. I love you!”
Jack tensed, his hand in her hair tightening painfully as he threw back his head with an exultant shout of masculine triumph.
He came hard, his seed pouring out of him and straight into her, his orgasm clashing with hers in a shower of glorious colors.
18.
“Henry?” a voice whispered with urgency.
Henry Xanthier rolled on his bed, turning to the other side. He was so tired.
“Henry!” the whisper came again more insistently.
He lifted his head and peered at the dark curtains covering his windows. He immediately recognized Martins and Arthur. They were two of his most trusted men and seeing them brought back their conversation of the night before in a rush. They were supposed to try to sneak past the border into Weirna to seek the help of the Weirna shifters. It was a shot in the dark because they had been arch enemies of the Weirna shifters for as long as he could recall, but he certainly hoped they could be persuaded to look beyond the problems they had with each other to offer them help
At this rate those shifters were their only hope because Nabradia had turned the Archstone Tribe into her own personal empire. And worse, she had a blood covenant with Zak, binding the Archstones to her for all time. Their only hope in hell of breaking it was with help from the Weirna shifters because those men weren’t scared of Nabradia.
Every supernatural being from the States to Asia, to Africa, to Europe had heard about how the Weirna shifters had thwarted her plans to get the Tiara of Oistrophe and thumbed their noses at her while they were at it.
