by J. C. Wilder
He gritted his teeth as her vagina milked his cock. It was too fast, much too fast. He wanted to savor her, touch every inch of her flesh. He wanted it to last for hours, not minutes.
Damn.
He closed his eyes. Maybe if he tried reciting the Gettysburg address…
Four score and—
Soft, questing fingers threw his good intentions out the window, and his eyes flew open.
“Mmm,” she sighed. “It’s your turn now.”
“So it would seem.”
Her emerald gaze was sleepy, sated, but her smile promised satisfaction. Slim fingers stroked his nipples. Her lips were swollen and damp and her eyes luminous with sexual satisfaction. She leaned forward to capture one of his flat nipples between her teeth. Rocking her hips, she suckled him with abandon and he was lost.
With a cry, he grabbed her hips and hammered into her. Sensation raged through his body to center in his groin as she suckled his flesh. Sounds of delight escaped her throat and she met him thrust for thrust, her pussy surrounded him in wet heat.
Maeve released his nipple and sat up, taking his cock deeper. Head tipped back, she rode him hard and all too soon he came. Hands tight on her hips, Quinn held her in place as he emptied his seed into her slick heat. Within seconds, she tensed over him, her body contorting into a graceful arch. Her voice mingled with his as a second orgasm tore through her. She moved slowly, the rock of her hips drawing out their pleasure until she stopped with a silken shudder.
Spent, he tugged her down to his chest and cradled her in his arms, running his hand down the long line of her back. His eyes drifted shut, more content than he could ever remember being in his life.
Maeve shifted, chasing the weak sunlight that illuminated the worn, handwritten pages she was reading.
Items needed:
Cauldron
Writing Parchment
White Candle
Quill and Ink
Wild Sage
Maeve picked up a ballpoint pen. She didn’t have a quill and ink and she hoped this would do. For that matter—she glanced at the battered cooking pot on the desk—she didn’t have a proper cauldron either. In using these makeshift items she could only hope her spell worked. Either that or she might just end up with a pizza deliveryman on her doorstep instead.
On the paper, write your heart’s desire.
She set the book aside, located the parchment and wrote in bold strokes.
Send me the means to learn the binding spell.
With trembling hands, she folded the paper in half. All would be well. It had to be. She laid the parchment on the blotter and picked up the book once more, setting it in her lap.
Sprinkle the sage into the cauldron and light the candle before you repeat this incantation. As you speak, set fire to the paper and place it in the caldron.
Picking up the bottle of sage she’d located in the kitchen, she added a few dashes of the pungent herb to the pot. After lighting the candle, tension crept along the back of her neck when she picked up the parchment. Her hand trembled when she began the incantation.
“Charge this place with candlelight.”
She lit the paper.
“For I must do what is right.
What I need is knowledge gained,
For my power must not wane—
I need a keeper of the A’ bhais Cadail.
In this quest, I must not fail.
For all my life this knowledge will reside with me.”
She dropped the paper into the pot.
“This is my will, so mote it be!”
The paper burned with surprisingly little smoke, the flame a pure blue tipped with gold. It licked at the fibers, scorching before engulfing it. One moment, the paper was there, the next only the scent of burnt sage hung in the air. Curious, she sat up straighter and looked in the pot.
It was completely clean.
She frowned. How could that be? Did that mean it worked?
Closing the spell book, she slipped it into a lower drawer where it would be safe from prying eyes. Gathering her tools, she tucked the pot into the drawer next to the book before shutting it. On the desk was the chronicle on killing a vampire. She wanted to reread the text one more time in case she’d missed something.
Magic—a spell known as a binding spell can immobilize a vampire. Be warned, while there are several types of binding spells, only the A’ bhais Cadail spell will work on an elder. The A’ bhais Cadail is handed down generation by generation through only a few lines of witches, and the knowledge is held sacred. The lineage is of the utmost importance, and only a witch of pure lineage and intention can wield the spell. Should the intention of the witch be of a dark nature, chaos will be the result.
A frown formed. Should she have included pure intention in her spell? She continued reading.
The purpose of the spell is to incapacitate the vampire by putting him in a deep hypnotic state, rendering him unable to physically or mentally retaliate. At this point, it is recommended the vampire be beheaded and incinerated—the body independently from the head. The ashes should then be disposed of in separate places, many miles apart—burial or scattering of the ashes is acceptable.
Should the vampire be of an extreme age, the ashes should be dumped in the sea where they will be lost for all eternity. Should they be buried, there is a chance that even a single drop of blood could rejuvenate part of the vampire’s soul.
Fascinating.
A vampire could be rejuvenated even after he’d been burned to ashes? She wrinkled her nose. It looked like a beheading was in her future. Were HazMat suits available for purchase on the Internet? It was bound to be messy.
“What are you reading?”
Dressed in worn jeans and a black thermal shirt, Quinn walked into the room. His hair was damp from a recent shower and her cheeks heated. Images of his sturdy body in the shower, water and soap pouring off every sculpted inch of his body sent shivers over her skin. She swallowed hard when she caught the flare of heat in his gaze.
He felt it too, this hunger that shimmered between them. Her nipples tightened, and her mouth went dry. The flesh between her thighs tingled, and it was all she could do to remain seated when what she really wanted was to launch herself at him and take him on the carpet like a cat in heat.
She’d thought making love in the gym would take the edge off the need but, if anything, it was stronger than before.
Damn, he was one sexy beast. Images of those hands on her body flooded her mind, causing her breathing to quicken. Never had she experienced such an immediate sexual reaction to a man. Less than two hours had passed since she’d left him napping in the gym, and she was ready for some more.
Forcing her gaze away from him, she cleared her throat. “These books represent Sinjin’s life’s work.” She waved her hand at the leather-bound volumes shelved behind her. “They’re the chronicles of the Shadow Dwellers.”
“Is that so?”
Quinn towered over her chair, his big body filling her vision. The scent of his skin, warm male and soap, was making her lightheaded. Placing his hand on the back of her chair, he pushed backward until it came to a full stop, leaving her off balance. Reaching for her, he captured her chin and tilted it upward.
His mouth met hers in one of the softest, most gentle kisses she’d ever experienced. Her eyes closed as he touched each corner of her lips with his. Dipping lower, he nibbled a path of heat along her lower lip. It wasn’t enough. Maeve craved a proper kiss, one of heat and need, not this tender almost worshipful touch. He kissed her. A devastating kiss filled with possession and promise.
A silken groan sounded in her throat when he took possession of her mouth. Their tongues touched, stroking, seeking as they explored each other. This kiss wasn’t the burning, hungry kisses from earlier; this was a voyage of discovery as if he sought to memorize the textures and flavors of her.
As if he knew she would leave him.
You don’t deserve him. He’s too good f
or likes of you.
Pain stabbed her in the chest and she jerked her head away, breaking the kiss. Curiosity and heat mingled in his pale gaze. She held her breath knowing he would say something about her reaction.
Instead, he released her chin and allowed the chair to return to its upright position. Propping his hip on the edge of the desk, he crossed his arms over his rock-hard chest to study her. She fought the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. The silence drew out and finally, with her nerves on edge, she spoke.
“What are you staring at?” Her cheeks heated. “Do I have something on my nose?”
“Mmm, it’s not your nose I’m interested in.” His smile was intimate, sexy.
So…how long did she have to wait to lure him upstairs and into a proper bed?
Stop that.
Hot and flustered, Maeve licked her lips, groaning inwardly when the lingering taste of him teased her senses. This man should be illegal in at least forty-eight of the fifty states. He might be out of her league but she had no intentions of trying to keep him anyway. She’d be a fool to not take him up on the unspoken need between them because there weren’t too many tomorrows in her future.
“Wow.”
She blinked, wondering if he’d read her mind. Instead, she saw he was impressed with the sheer number and size of the volumes that filled the shelves. Arcane knowledge filled each book and, judging from the look on his face, Quinn longed to dive into them as much as she did.
She smiled. So they did have something in common besides an uncommon hunger for each other. “It’s a heady thought, isn’t it? All that information, secrets held for centuries, contained in all those books.”
“How many of these have you read?”
“Barely enough to scratch the surface. Sinjin’s funny about people coming into his domain.”
Their gazes met. “Has he stirred?”
She shook her head. “Neither has Sunni.”
“Well, the sun will set shortly. Hopefully they will awaken this evening.” He motioned to the broken window frame. “Do you want me to fix this?”
“Oh, well, yeah—I guess so.” She glanced at the sheet of plywood and supplies she’d left by the jagged opening. “I meant to get to that, but I sat down to read instead.”
“That’s understandable.” He leaned down to drop another kiss on her mouth. “After I hammer some nails I might join you.”
“Please do.”
He was smiling as he pushed off the desk and headed for the door. After a thorough inspection he retrieved a small trashcan before hefting a hammer and began working. Tapping at a section of the broken glass, he carefully removed the larger pieces and placed them into the can.
The man loved books and knew how to handle a hammer. What more could she want? There was no doubt Quinn was definitely a great catch. If he could cook and change the oil in the car then all bets were off.
Except you’d have to throw him back.
Disturbed, Maeve stuck a scrap piece of paper in the book then closed it. She had no intentions of keeping him or any other man for that matter. Her future was already laid out before her, and there would be no deviations. Besides, Quinn deserved a woman who had more than hatred and the thirst for vengeance in her heart.
She set the book on the desk. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” He reached for a large section of dangling glass.
“I’ve heard many stories about Mortianna’s powers.”
“Mmm. Most of them are probably true.” Crash. Another piece met its brethren in the trashcan. “I think she enjoys the notoriety. However—” he gave her a hooded look, “—that isn’t a question.”
“You’re impatient.”
“Only about certain things.”
His look heated, and she struggled not to squirm in her chair. Maeve remembered all too well which one of them had been impatient in the gym earlier, and it wasn’t him. Her cheeks warmed with the memory before she forcibly shoved the images away.
“Is she the most powerful witch in the world?”
“It’s possible.” He shrugged. “Magic can’t be measured in distance or size. It simply is what it is. I think the common assumption is that, because Mortianna is the oldest witch and her lineage is well documented, she must be the most powerful. It’s no secret that her family chose their mates with great care, and the primary goal was to strengthen their abilities.
“As to being the most powerful…” he shrugged, “…that may or may not be true, though I’d hazard a guess there are a few who could hold their own with her.”
“Is being a witch something you’re born to or can it be taught?”
“Yes, to both. In my case, I was born of two very powerful witches, so it’s a given I’d have some magical talent.” He chuckled. “My father said he knew I’d inherited some powers when he found me levitating four feet above my cradle. I was seven months old.”
She grinned at the mental image of baby Quinn floating in the air. “That must have been a shock to your parents.”
“It was just me and my father then.”
Maeve paused. She’d never considered Quinn hadn’t been raised by both of his parents. “You weren’t raised by your mother?”
“No. I grew up thousands of miles from here.”
Damn.
“But you were raised as a witch?” Mentally she crossed her fingers.
“Yes.” He dropped another piece of glass into the bin before pinning her with his gaze. “Why all the questions?”
She feigned a shrug. “I’ve never met a witch before. I’m curious.”
His gaze turned assessing and she wasn’t sure she’d managed to convince him, not entirely at least. He looked away to remove another piece of glass.
“I was raised a witch and I’ve always known my heritage.”
“How does one learn spells?”
“There are several ways. Most family lines have a Grimoire, which is commonly referred to as a book of shadows. It outlines spells and incantations handed down through the generations. There are some who learn only verbally. Several of the older clans refuse to record their spells for fear others will exploit them. Those groups teach their offspring by word of mouth.”
“Like the A’ bhais Cadail?”
“That particular spell is one of many binding spells we use.” Quinn faltered. His hand hung in the air for a moment then he continued. “It’s one of the oldest and most powerful, and it’s considered sacred knowledge. As far as I know, it’s never been recorded anywhere.”
She fought the urge to leap from her chair and shake him. Getting information out of the man was like pulling teeth. “Were you taught this spell?”
He dropped the last piece of glass in the trashcan before facing her. His gaze was dark and tension radiated from every inch of his body. “Why do you want to know?”
“I was reading that the safest way to kill an elder vampire is to use this spell.” She shrugged. “I’d never heard of it, and I wondered if it was common knowledge among witches.”
Normally, she considered herself an honest person and lying didn’t come naturally to her. But she had a job to do, a calling, and she needed to see it through to the end. Her sister would’ve done the same for her if their situations had been reversed.
“The A’ bhais Cadail isn’t common knowledge simply because it’s too powerful for most witches. The use of this spell on any living creature would render it unable to defend itself, even another witch. It is forbidden to use the spell on another living creature.”
Vampires aren’t alive…
Maeve could scarcely conceal her relief. So far everything she’d read in the book was correct.
“And you know it?”
“Yes.” He slid the handle of the hammer between his belt and his jeans. “What you and many others fail to realize is that witchcraft is more than bad poetry, wicked old hags and eye of newt. It’s a religion, a way of life and it isn’t to be taken lightly.”
&n
bsp; Behind him, the sun was sinking into the sea, turning his hair to golden fire while giving the illusion of a halo. Quinn looked like a warrior angel, and her stomach twisted. Could she betray him, this man who’d saved her life, this man who’d made love with her so sweetly, in order to gain redemption for herself? Did she dare tell him the truth about herself?
Can you live with yourself if you continue to deceive him?
No.
“Quinn—”
A tremendous crash sounded in the main hall, and Maeve leapt to her feet. Quinn ran for the door, and she followed close behind. In a dim corner of the hall, the vampire Sunni stood by the remains of a shattered vase. Her delicate face was contorted by an expression of abject horror.
“Come quick, Maeve. Something’s wrong with Sinjin.”
Chapter Seven
Val climbed out of his Lexus SUV and groaned when something popped in his back. The drive from Guildford had been long and tedious, and he was glad to be out of the car. Maeve’s frantic summons hadn’t allowed time to secure private air transportation so he’d hustled Shai into the car and off they went.
Now, half a day later, they were in northern Scotland.
Palming the remote control, he popped the back door to reveal a large leather sheet covering something bumpy. It stirred. He reached toward a lump he thought might be a knee and gently shook it.
“Wake up, my love. The sun has set, and it’s time for all the good little vampires to come out and play.”
A throaty moan rose from under the covers.
Val grinned as he tugged on the leather, pulling it off to reveal his soul mate. Shai lay on a white silk duvet, her hair a mass of tangled red curls. Dressed in a tight, black velvet bodysuit with matching slippers, she looked like sin incarnate. Beside her lay a leather biker jacket.
“Darling—”
Unease prickled along the back of his neck, and he raised his head to scan their surroundings. Someone was watching them.
Shadows cloaked the landscape surrounding Sinjin’s remote fortress, but he felt the pulse of life in the darkness. His gaze zeroed in on the forest that rimmed the east edge of the property. Shadows moved within the trees, and he caught a glimpse of more than one pair of eyes staring in his direction.
