by N. D. Jones
She gasped and dropped to her knees. Her fire spirit crackled with excitement. Sanura trembled and could only think about destiny and destruction, their destiny, the world’s destruction.
By the gods, Assefa is a Mngwa.
The cat of legend trotted up to her, imposing and massive. He looked down at her, a myth that was no myth at all. According to legend, it was said to be stronger than a lion and deadlier than a leopard. It moved silently, came out only to kill humans, and then disappeared like a ghost ship in the night. The bodies of its victims showed wounds made by razor-sharp claws and huge teeth. The Mngwa was said to be so ferocious it could kill a person with a single bite or swipe of its paws. Under the cover of night, the donkey-sized cat stalked its prey without a sound, its padded paws making it a most dangerous predator.
The mystery of the Mngwa had terrified East Africans for hundreds of years. No hunter had ever succeeded in killing one. Only fools even dared to try. Yet five hundred or more years ago, the big cat disappeared, never seen again. And the legend had been born. The stories of the ferocious beast traveled like a sandstorm, with density, and over great distances. Exaggeration blended with truth until no one could discern fact from fiction. In the end, as always, there were those who believed the Mngwa would someday rise again and save the world from destruction, while others thought it nothing more than a quaint bedtime story.
With the mammoth cat hovering over her, Sanura was forced to lean back in order to see all of him. And while the desire to meet his gaze haunted her, she wasn’t quite ready for that. Instead, she quietly observed the creature of myth and legend. The Mngwa’s fur was dark-gray with black stripes, like that of a tabby cat. It looked winter-warm and summer-soft. The snout was long and rounded, head wide and thick, ears pointy and alert. And the body, dear Ra, his body radiated controlled might. Even through the charcoal of snowy hair, Sanura swore she glimpsed rippling, powerful muscles. Then there were his paws, easily larger than Sanura’s head. The claws that extended from them were a good seven inches in length, frightening blades that promised death to any challenger.
Hot breath beat down on her, and she knew it was time to face her familiar. Casting her eyes upward, Sanura met the unwavering stare of the cat of legend. To her heart-stuttering relief, behind the beguiling gold eyes of the beast were the chocolate ones she knew so well. Within the shimmering depths of the most renowned cat known to walk the earth, was the man, free, in control, and dominant. Assefa.
And whatever fear may have lurked within Sanura vanished when the giant cat lowered his eyes, then head, in an act of, not submission, but acceptance. Then, more amazingly, he plopped that humongous body of his on the sand in front of her, nearly tumbling Sanura over.
Like a kitten wanting attention, the Mngwa lifted his head and laid it firmly in Sanura’s lap. It was heavy and so wonderful. Reaching down, she rubbed the incredibly soft fur of her familiar. “You’re no legend,” she said, a heat of awe in her voice.
It’s time, her fire spirit whispered. I want him. Make the warrior-beast mine. No good had ever come from listening to her fire spirit. But this time, this one miraculous moment in time, Sanura and her fire spirit were of the same mind.
She continued to caress the Mngwa, her mouth parting on a spell that would align their auras. “Blessed by the gods, we were cast out into the world as two. Two compassionate hearts, two purposeful souls, two enlightened minds. But in this year, the twenty-ninth of our birth, we are no longer two, no longer separate, no longer alone, no longer half of a divine blessing. We are”—Sanura raised her hands, released her flames, and sank them into the Mngwa’s coat— “blessed by the gods.”
Sanura’s aura exploded like a mushroom cloud over top of them, white-and-red with specks of gold throughout. Up from her flaming hands, pulled from the depths of the Mngwa’s soul, came a whirling tornado of gyrating magic—gray-and-blue with an undertone of green.
When the tornado joined the mushroom cloud, setting off wind gusts and sparks of lightning, their auras gradually, completely, perfectly merged. Each took on certain dimensions of the other. Sanura acquired part of Assefa’s blue aura, whereas Assefa’s took on Sanura’s specks of gold.
Hands still in his fur but no longer on fire, Sanura withdrew her touch, their auras now balanced. It was time for them to return home. Mission complete.
Reciting a prayer similar to the one that brought them to this plane, Sanura returned them, the journey fruitful, their spirits content.
Moments later, Sanura felt the rush of her soul being pulled back into her body. It was a wild sensation that neither hurt nor gave her pleasure. With magic tingling in her fingertips, Sanura lifted and removed her hood, only to find Assefa staring at her, face taut with what looked like uncertainty.
“I see I’m not the only one who has an interesting family lineage.” Before he could reply, she reached across and ran her right hand down his cheek. “Before today, I’ve never seen anything as ferocious yet beautiful as when your cat spirit revealed itself to me.”
Assefa placed his hand over hers and held it to his cheek. Speaking in a whisper, he admitted, “I was afraid my Mngwa would frighten you. The stories paint them as monsters, and I didn’t know how you would react when you found out I didn’t match the profile of your forefathers.”
“And I don’t match the profile of your foremothers.”
“Perhaps that’s the reason why we’re biologically compatible, because who else would pair with the likes of us?”
Sanura knew Assefa was too smart not to know the significance of what had just happened on the astrophysical plane. But if he was willing to pretend for tonight, that was just fine with her. She didn’t want to even think about next steps or in what ways Assefa’s magic had enhanced her own. But it was nice to be in the company of someone who knew what it felt like to be different, who understood the heavy burden of having a powerful beast as an inner spirit. Someone who’s not afraid of what I am…of what I could become.
Remembering her training, Sanura grounded the energy. She engaged in the requisite steps to free the energy and ended with, “Return unto the elements from whence you came.” The magical energy was sucked out of the room, concluding the ritual.
“That was interesting.”
Sanura removed her hood. “That’s one way of putting it.”
He blinked a few times and rolled his shoulders and head, probably shaking off the same lingering sensation from the astrophysical plane that Sanura felt. “You were right. I think I have more control over my aura now. I take it you’ll explain what happened with our auras later.”
“I can explain it to you now.” But she had no true interest in doing so at the moment. Her focus was on her hand making its way through Assefa’s springy head of curls.
“Sanura, I’m not in cat form now.” A weak complaint. His words were not that of the rigid special agent but of the softer man behind the badge. “You don’t have to caress my hair like that.”
She leaned into him. “Do you not like when I do this to you, regardless of your form?”
With a swift fierceness, he grabbed her waist and growled. “Damn woman, you know how to bring out the animal in me.” His mouth slammed into hers. Hungry. Hard. Heavenly. No gentle kiss this, it was rough, demanding, igniting the fire that had been burning inside of them since first they’d met, waiting for this very moment to be unleashed.
Sucking and biting, the kiss was feral in its intensity, their bodies shifting, impatiently seeking closer contact. Tongues swept in and out of mouths, hands glided over clothes-covered flesh.
She needed more, much, much more.
Apparently, so did Assefa. Jumping to his feet, Assefa hoisted Sanura into his arms, her legs immediately going around his hips. And…damn…was that all him under that robe?
Assefa deposited them onto the white-and-black sofa, Sanura on top of him, their tongues tangling in another irresistible kiss. Needing to feel the man, to have her hot hands on his hard f
lesh, Sanura impatiently unzipped his robe. With his assistance, she pushed it down and off his shoulders.
Arms free, he buried his hands into her hair and pulled her in for another kiss. And the man could damn sure kiss. Make a woman feel desired with each stroke of his tongue, grinding of his hips.
Sitting up, Sanura admired his physique. She ran her hands down his marvelous chest, so broad and solid and— “You’re unbelievably sexy. So damn fine.”
Chuckling, Assefa reached up to free Sanura of her robe. Once off, he tossed it over the side of the sofa. “You aren’t one to talk. I nearly passed out when I first saw you in that thing you call a bathing suit.”
One finger came up and slipped between her breasts, stroking ever so softly. A second joined, and then a third, grazing quickly heating skin. Then those fingers were at her back, sliding between her skin and the bikini, locating and undoing the clasp. The clasp at her neck soon followed, and the bikini top went the way of the robe.
Bared to him from the waist up, Sanura nearly imploded from the intoxicating way Assefa made her feel, his eyes eating her alive, one appreciative blink at a time.
“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, sweetheart. All supple and voluptuous, a mountain of curves I can’t wait to climb.”
Oh, hell.
Then his magnificent hands were on her, gliding over breasts aching for his touch, his taste. He didn’t disappoint. Thumbs thrummed waiting nipples, each trek sharper than the first, creating peaks on top of peaks.
Hunching forward, Sanura dropped her head, rocking her hips back and forth, rubbing against his very aroused, very hard, very impressive erection.
And still, he worked her breasts, squeezing and tugging with just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of—
He flipped them off the sofa and onto the carpet. In one fluid motion, Sanura was on her back, Assefa above her. “I’ve never wanted any woman as much as I want you.” He tangled his hands in her reddish-gold locks. “I want to love you, make love to you, and build a life with you. Be your familiar as well as your mate.”
Sanura didn’t know what to say to that, so she touched his lips with her finger and said simply, “Make love to me, the way no man has ever done before. Show me the power of your Mngwa.”
With that, Assefa’s eyes went from human brown to Mngwa gold. He claimed her mouth again, pushing his muscular body between her legs, forcing them wide, chest smashing against breasts. Yes.
Sanura rocked again, lifting her hips to better feel what would soon be in her. By the gods, was there any part of the special agent that wasn’t large and hard?
Probing fingers had Sanura moaning into his mouth. She was already so damn wet, those long, wide fingers of his just slid inside, stretching and stroking and reminding her how long it had been since she’d let anyone this close to her. Didn’t want another man’s touch. Until Assefa.
He probed deeper, slow, long thrusts.
“You feel so damn good, Sanura. So wet and responsive. I’m going to take my time with you. Let your body tell me what it likes. Then you’re going to come for me. Over and over, screaming my name, begging me to be inside you.”
He rose onto his knees, three fingers still working her.
In and out.
In and out.
In. In. In.
Bending, he claimed a breast with his mouth—sucking hard, ripping a scream of, “By the gods!” from Sanura.
But this, what he was doing to her, wasn’t a matter for the gods, unless it was Oshun, Orisha of love, intimacy, and beauty.
Assefa pulled most of the way out, only the tips remaining. But, oh, they were enough, because he crooked those skilled digits upward and renewed his attentions. Stroking the right spot, the one not found in the depths of a woman’s sex but the shallow entrance to her vagina.
With a dominance she didn’t mind, Assefa controlled Sanura—her breasts, her mouth, her sex. He gave and gave, possessing her through indescribable spasms of pleasure, spasms of delight, spasms of release.
Over and over and over. Just as he’d said.
The man’s a beast. Thank the gods.
“Dammit, who in the hell could be calling at this hour? Can’t a dwarf watch a movie in peace?” Mike paused the movie before fishing his cell phone out of his pants pocket.
Makena moved away from the swearing detective, slipping into the kitchen to answer the house phone, giving them both their privacy.
Three minutes later, a worried Makena was back in the living room. “Something has happened.”
“There’s been another attack. We need to get to Sinai Hospital right away.”
As if there was a delay in his hearing and comprehension, Mike paused, then said, “Wait. What has happened? Are we talking about the same thing, Makena?”
“I believe so. I just received a call from Cynthia. Gen was attacked by the adze and taken to Sinai Hospital. We need to get Sanura and Assefa, right now.”
Makena knew she was talking too fast, body trembling, fire spirit boiling with concern and rage. The bastard had attacked Gen. The girl was like a granddaughter to Makena, and the adze had come too damn close to ripping her throat out.
Her fire spirit was so close to the surface now. How easy it would be to let the flames fly. But now wasn’t the time to indulge her own revenge fantasy. Eric, Cynthia, and Gen needed them. There was no time to waste.
Having walked to the basement door, Makena placed her hand on the knob when she heard Mike say, “You’re just gonna walk in on them?”
Still in a fiery haze, she turned to him. A disapproving frown met her.
“It’s been more than two. The ritual is probably over by now.”
He pulled her hand away from the door.
“That’s exactly my point, yet they’re still downstairs.”
“The ritual is an overwhelming experience. I’m sure they’re talking about what happened.”
“You mean to tell me the only thing you and Sam did during your ritual was to look into each other’s souls and swap stories?”
Makena sobered to his point and took two steps back from the basement door.
“I didn’t think so,” he snorted, then opened his phone. “I’m calling Assefa.”
The phone rang five times before throwing Mike into voice mail. “Damn him, he didn’t pick up.”
“He probably has it on vibrate.”
“I’m sure he does have it on vibrate, but the man can hear every damn thing. I swear, I think he can even hear me when I take a leak. He asked me one time if I’d washed my hands, and dammit, I had to go back in the men’s room and wash them.”
“TMI, Mike, TMI. Just call him again, or I’ll be forced to go down there and pray, this one time, that Sanura is nothing like me.”
“Come in, sweetheart,” the foolish man said, ushering the adze into his precious home. “Dear Lord, child, where are your clothes?”
Before the adze could think of an answer or imitate the immature speech pattern of a pubescent human female, the stupid man hobbled away, awkwardly dragging his right leg behind him.
Too easy. Her lips pulled back and over teeth in a satisfied snarl.
Five minutes later, the sun-kissed man who smelled of fire-cured, dark-leaf tobacco returned, female garments fisted against his chest. He handed the clothing to the adze, then turned away, and mumbled, “I don’t know what happened to you, sweetheart, but no one has a right to take a girl’s clothing and leave her stranded on a stranger’s front lawn.”
Weak. Compassionate. Foolish human.
The adze sniffed and looked around. The library the human had taken her into felt like a wooden cave—dark, gloomy, confining. A perfect coffin. But where was the one she’d scented earlier? Where was the witch who would satiate her pangs of hunger, set her free? The transformation wouldn’t hold much longer, and the thought of draining the pathetic crippled human before her was almost enough to quiet her raging appetite. Almost.
Not bothe
ring with the lemon-scented clothing, the adze opened her mouth to speak. Inexperienced tongue glided over teeth, saliva pooled and fell. But no words escaped.
But she didn’t have to. The man, whose back was still turned to the adze did, voice inquiring, trembling with anger over whoever was to blame for her abused state.
“I’ll call the police. That’s what I’ll do. They’ll take care of you, sweetheart, make sure you get home, capture the swine who hurt you, made you bleed.”
Ah, yes, the blood. Even after the transformation, droplets of the girl’s blood still stained her mouth, her teeth. The very teeth that were throbbing to push free of the human gums she now wore and press into the witch’s equally throbbing neck. The witch she’d scented from the air, from the gnarled tree, the one she needed to find and devour.
The man’s fists balled, then fell away to massage the lame hip. And the adze wanted to laugh.
All that righteous fury and you’re nothing but a neutered dog—leashed and bound and a threat to no one, not even the fleas that suckle from your inconsequential hide.
The man’s thin shoulders began to shake. His head moved from one side to the other, short, curly gray hair emphasizing too-large ears.
Without warning, the man turned and exited the room. But not before saying, “I have something to attend to. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back.”
The adze growled at the closed door, ripping the green dress and ugly white shawl she held in her hands. Angry and impatient, she dropped the shredded pieces, stepping over them when she exited the library.
She was tired of the farce. The blinding ache deep in her soul demanded release, and she would wait no longer. A witch would die tonight, and her exquisite blood would soothe and rejuvenate her body, her life. The way it always did, the way it always would. But first, the adze had to find her.
The house was dimly lit and quiet. The hallway was short but wide and the smell of witch mouthwateringly close. Lowering her head like a Basset Hound on the hunt, she followed the scent, moving soundlessly down the hall, around a corner, and up a carpeted flight of steps. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air.
