Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2)

by Sable Hunter

  Evangeline didn’t know whether she was relieved or dismayed. “But what about her voice?”

  “I have no explanation,” Angelique confessed. “All I can tell you is to keep your eyes and ears open and call us if anything odd happens at all.”

  It was a surprise to Evangeline when Nanette announced. “I called Elizabeth this morning and Angelique and I are going to spend some time out at Wildflower Way. That way, we’ll be closer to you and we can collect some herbs to replenish our supply. It will be a nice little vacation.”

  “But what about Philippe?” Evangeline questioned, thinking of Angelique’s boyfriend.

  “He’s going to join us.” Angelique spoke confidently. “He can’t stay away from me that long.”

  Evangeline was glad that they would remain nearby, but right now she wasn’t sorry to see them go. As much as she enjoyed their company, the one she longed to be with was Eric.

  * * * *

  The fire had been horrendous. There were multiple origination points and if he wasn’t mistaken there was accelerant of some kind on the carpet and curtains. Chief Kirby’s words kept coming to mind. Somebody had set this fire; there was no doubt about that. Every truck had responded. Eric’s unit had been first on the scene, but he was surprised to find John Cammack already there, completely suited up. He hadn’t taken time to question him, but the Chief would sure be hearing about it.

  Hell! Eric knew it was getting late, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. There had been children trapped on one of the upper floors, he had fought his way up the stairs to find them. Poor design and sub-standard materials had made everything more difficult and more dangerous.

  The hellish blaze had been impossible to contain, and hotter than any he could remember. He and his unit had fought fiercely for four hours, and then to make matters worse, a portion of the structure had collapsed. The air was so hot that Eric could barely breathe, even with his self contained breathing apparatus. He desperately needed to concentrate on what he was doing; lives were at stake, including his own. But he kept seeing Evangeline’s face. She would think he didn’t care. Lord, she would think that he had changed his mind. Christ, she would think that he had just used her.

  On one of the upper floors, he realized he needed to break out a dormer window to ventilate the fire. When he reached in, his sleeve got caught and pulled back from his arm, exposing it to the extreme heat. Eric winced, that was at least a second degree burn. But the pain of the injury was nothing to the worry that he was feeling, imagining Evangeline waiting for him and the minutes passing and passing…

  Chapter Four

  When it had come time to get ready for Eric, Evangeline was beside herself with excitement. She looked at the clock, only three more hours to go. Three more hours and she would have Eric to love, to kiss, to cherish. She prepared for the date like Cleopatra preparing for Marc Anthony—she bathed, lotioned, waxed, did her nails, did her toes, washed her hair, rolled her hair, did her make-up, then sat down to wait. Okay, so she was early—it was only ten o’clock. She tried to calm herself by reading a romance novel.

  At ten till eleven, she had gone to stand by the door. She had stood there until noon.

  Sitting on the couch, watching the door until one, she finally let herself realize that he wasn’t coming. She had given him an out, and it looked like he had taken it. Hanging her head, Evangeline knew that their incredible connection of the night before had all been part of the magical spell she had used to find him and call him to her—a spell fueled by her repressed sexual appetite. As soon as he was out her sight, she had been put out of his mind.

  At two, she had taken off the little black day dress that she had picked up at the vintage shop on Bee Caves Road.

  At three, she cried.

  * * * *

  Twelve hours after the phone call, the fire was safely put out. He met with Chief Kirby for a few minutes, long enough to share his suspicions about John Cammack. Other than that, Eric didn’t take time to shower; he didn’t even take time to get his burn treated. All he could think about was getting to her. When he pulled up in her driveway, it was six o’clock. He hurt all over. But he was here.

  * * * *

  The pounding on the door finally registered. Evangeline had cried herself to sleep. The tears had shorted out her radar, so she didn’t even try to figure out who was on the other side of the door. Opening it slowly, her eyes downcast, she was only interested in getting rid of whoever was there. But then she looked up and her heart melted. It was Eric. He was leaning against the door, face and body covered in sweat and grime, looking exhausted and in pain. “Oh, my love,” she opened the screen door and took him by the hand. “Where are you hurt?”

  He allowed her to help him in. “Have you been crying? I’m so sorry, baby. It was a hotel fire, a bad one. We were all called in. I wanted to call, but I didn’t have your damn phone number.”

  Again she asked him, “Tell me where you’re hurt?” He showed her the burn on his arm and she tenderly checked it. “Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

  “I had to get to you. I knew you were thinking I didn’t want you.”

  “Taking care of yourself is much more important,” she chided him, but there was a catch in her voice. She brought him a big glass of ice water and while he drank it, she ran water in the shower.

  After he had quenched his thirst, she helped him off with his clothes. “I wanted you to undress me, but this wasn’t exactly how I had planned it.” His voice was so weary; it made her want to cry all over again.

  “I’ll still be here when you feel better, but until then I will take care of you.” She helped him completely undress, wincing at the burns on his body. Stepping into the shower, he laid his head on the tile of the stall and let the warm water run over him. Shocking herself and him, Evangeline shed everything but her underwear. She boldly stepped into the shower and began to wash him.

  “Oh, baby, what are you doing? God, you’re beautiful—but, damn, I’m too exhausted to do anything about it.”

  “I’m loving you,” she said simply. Evangeline washed the smut and sweat from his body, tenderly avoiding the places where he hurt the most. There was nothing sexual about her attention; it all had to do with love. When he was clean, she helped him out, drying him off. Digging in his duffle bag, she took out the clean clothes he would have changed into if he had taken the time. “Let’s get you into the bed, then I’ll put something on those burns.” He let her pull the T-shirt over his head and didn’t argue when she pulled back the covers and brought him some aspirin for the headache that was blurring his vision.

  Despite the discomfort of the burns, he was asleep within minutes. Evangeline went up to the room where she kept all of her herbs and supplies and started gathering what she needed for the burns. She made a paste of aloe vera and the oil from St John’s wort. Next, she added some dried Echinacea and calendula that she had ground with a mortar and pestle. Putting the soothing concoction in a small plastic container, she took it downstairs. Softly and silently, she crawled into the bed with him and began applying the salve to the injured places on his beautiful body. The worst burn was at least six inches long and spread from his right wrist up his arm. Small blisters clustered on the skin. Taking his hand in her own, she whispered, “Burn, I blow on thee.” She blew on the site three times, then she made the sign of the cross three times over the wound with her thumb.

  Lying down next to him, she took him in her arms and began to concentrate. She surrounded him with a healing blue light and willed him to feel strong and well. Evangeline held him for over two hours, until the blisters on the burn were gone and the color had lightened from an angry red to a light pink. Kissing him on the forehead, she got up to fix him something to eat. Hopefully, he would wake up hungry not only for food, but also for her.

  * * * *

  When Eric woke up, he swore he could smell chicken enchiladas. He was starving to death. And he felt good, damn good. Sitting up,
he looked at his arm. The burn was practically nonexistent. Evangeline had put something on the area that ought to be bottled and sold. She could make a fortune. Following the incredible smell, he found her putting plastic wrap on a bowl of homemade guacamole. She set it down and immediately went to him, “You’re awake.” Laying her head on his wide chest, she held him close, kissing him through his shirt.

  Eric kissed the top of her head. “I was dreaming about making love to you.” She squeezed him gently, her hands splayed across his back, her fingers kneading his flesh. He was absolutely captivated by her. No one had ever taken care of him the way she had. There had been no questions, no guilt-trips, no hesitation. He couldn’t believe he had been in the shower with her and had not been able to take advantage of it. Now she was dressed in soft blue jeans, and a simple pink lace camisole. Her hair was held back in that sexy braid that drove him wild. And, what caused his cock to jump; he would swear she wasn’t wearing a bra. When she moved a certain way, he was almost positive that a pink nipple peeked out of the lace.

  “Do you feel better?” She picked up his arm and looked at the area that had been blistered and red. “This looks a lot better, there’s very little evidence of the burn left.”

  “It’s almost as good as new? What did you do to it?”

  “Magick.” She answered truthfully.

  “Baby, you can work your magic on me, anytime. But really, you’ll have to tell me what you used—it works better than anything ever has. The other guys would kill for some of it.”

  “I can make you up a batch, if you like.”

  “You made this yourself?” When she nodded, he rewarded her with a heart-stopping smile. “You are unbelievable, sweetheart.”

  * * * *

  She led him to the table and pulled out his chair. “I cooked you some supper. Enchiladas, guacamole and flan. Sit here, I’ll fix you a plate. Do you drink ice tea?” She was so happy! Cooking for him had been a pleasure. Knowing he was lying in her bed had made her want to stand at the door and just look at him. He hadn’t changed his mind. He had wanted to come to her. She felt guilty she had ever doubted him.

  “I love tea—strong and sweet.” She fixed him a huge glass, full of crushed ice and a slice of lemon. “It smells great, I’m starving. And as soon as I satisfy my need for food, I want to satisfy my need for you.” She set a plate of food in front of him that made his mouth water.

  “I want that too, so much.” She squirmed in her seat, thinking about what they would be doing in just a little while. She fixed herself a plate, and watched him enjoy his food.

  “These chicken enchiladas are wonderful. You are a superb cook.” He cleaned his plate and held it up for seconds. She gave him the rest of the enchiladas and the guacamole and made a note that she would have to start doubling all her recipes, her man was a big eater.

  “I’m glad you like it. It was fun, cooking and knowing that it was for you.”

  “What time is your first class tomorrow?”

  “Eleven. I have art history at eleven and a sculpting class at two.”

  “You should be teaching the class, not taking it.”

  “I still have a lot to learn.”

  “Have you sold any pieces?”

  “Four, but I received a lot of attention last night; I have orders pending for six more.”

  “Nudes? Hmmmm, I’m not sure I want you studying another man’s nude body, no matter if it is for art.”

  “No, my next pieces will be clothed.” She smiled at him. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  “Yes, but I will take a piece of flan.” The heat began to rise. “If you don’t have class till eleven, we can sleep in. Since I pulled twelve hours today, I won’t go back on till Wednesday.”

  Evangeline dipped up the flan. She pulled her chair over close to him and dipped a spoon in the cinnamon flavored caramel pudding. She held it up to his lips and began to feed him. Her tongue slid to the edge of her mouth, he was getting turned on by her intent concentration as she took care of him. She gave him another spoonful, then kissed a tiny bit from his lower lip, and he almost growled with arousal—eating had never been so erotic.

  Eric watched her. Everything about her was sensual. He tried to picture Jessica tending him, cooking for him, feeding him. He couldn’t. “Just twenty-four hours ago, I was dreading attending a boring fundraiser. I was in the company of a woman who cared next to nothing for me and didn’t care enough to even attempt to try and hide it. All I wanted to do was get out of going - but look what happened—I found you.” Reverently, he kissed her lips. “Let’s go to bed.”

  He stood up and pulled her to him. Then they heard it, the piano music started. “Did you leave the TV on, babe?”

  “No. I don’t really know where that noise is coming from. I’ll explain it to you, later. I don’t want to think about it, now.” She led him to her bedroom. “I’ve dreamed about you coming through this very door, walking up to my bed…”

  He came to her. “So you dream about me, Evangeline?” His voice was husky and low. It sent shivers over her entire body.

  “Vividly.”

  “What did we do in your dreams?”

  “Incredible, wonderful things.” Her voice had taken on the same timbre as his.

  “Show me.” He laid down the gauntlet, challenging her. Eric was hungry for a woman to show him he was desirable. He was tired of begging for sex and the incredible experience she had given him last night just whetted his appetite. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Evangeline did not hesitate. She walked up to him, placed one hand on his chest and walked around him slowly, eating him up with her eyes. “You are the most handsome man in the world, my Angel.”

  “Do you know my full name, baby?”

  Evangeline was standing in back of him, stroking his back through the material of his shirt. She reached around him and unbuttoned his pants. “Tell me.” She knelt behind him, running her hands down the length of his legs, then up between them. He trembled. She nipped the flesh of his bottom, through his jeans, and he laughed out loud.

  “You’re playing with fire, Martel.” This is what he had longed for, so he braced himself for ecstasy. “My name is Eric Angelos McAllister. Angel is my name.” At that revelation, Evangeline rose to her feet and walked in front of him.

  “Is this another dream, Angel? Are you really here?” She ran her hands underneath the shirt that had lovingly molded all of the ripples and valleys of his muscular physique.

  “I’m here, doll. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” She pushed the shirt up and nipped him on the chest; he moaned, pulled it over his head and threw it on the floor as Evangeline knelt at his feet. She slipped off his shoes, stopping to caress his feet, his ankles, and run her hands up his pants legs, massaging his calves. Reaching up, she pulled his pants down and off. Finally, there was nothing between her mouth and his greatest need, but a piece of white cotton cloth that looked ready to rip apart at the seams.

  “Oh, my.” she breathed. “I couldn’t see you very well last night, not like I wanted to. It was too dark. You are so big.” Big wasn’t the word, he was huge. She had known he was, she had loved him with her mouth and she had carved him out of clay. But clay never felt like this. Evangeline reached behind him, clasped both hips in her hands and pulled him forward. She kissed him through the briefs, loving the shape of him.

  “I can’t take much more, Evangeline,” he warned.

  “You won’t have to. But, just let me…” She took hold of the elastic and pulled it down, like she was tearing the wrapper off of a candy bar. “Oh, Eric,” she breathed with delight. He was hard, standing straight up, anxious to find a home between her legs.

  “One kiss, please.” She took it in both hands and tenderly kissed away the pearlescent drop of pre-cum that proclaimed his aroused state.

  “Now!” He pulled her to her feet. “It’s my turn. You have on way too many clothes.” His fingers found the button of her jeans. “I want to lov
e you in so many ways—laying down, standing up—I want to love you the way you dreamed of in Rapture. I want your legs around my waist, I want to be buried so deep within you that you scream. When I saw your braid, I knew who you were. I knew you were mine. This braid will forever be an erotic trigger for me.” He pushed the jeans down her legs. “Look at those sexy pink panties, Lord, you’re hot!” Slipping his hands up her back, he groaned, “And no bra, baby—my cock just got bigger—and I was already fully aroused.” He reached around her with flattened palms and placed them over her nipples, rubbing them in a circular motion.

  “Eric, my God!” Her hips pushed back against him and she relaxed her whole upper body onto his chest. She had no idea that her breasts would be so sensitive. She always felt they were too small. The woman he had been with at the benefit had been very well endowed. “I wish they were bigger for you.”

  He spun her around and pulled the camisole over her head. Looking at her, he pulled her close and whispered, “They’re perfect. What are you talking about?” Falling to his knees, he began to play with her breasts. He took joy in them, molding them, kissing them, rubbing the nipples between his thumbs. “Bigger is not always better.” He pressed them together and let his tongue dance from one hardened point to the other. Evangeline was having a hard time being still. As he pleasured her breasts, she rubbed his neck, his back, his shoulders—anywhere she could reach.

  “A neighbor told me if I wanted them to get bigger, I should rub warm honey into them.” At her words, he drew one whole nipple in his mouth and sucked hungrily.

  “The honey worked, love.” Eric whispered huskily, as he moved to taste the other hardened point that begged for his attention.

  “No, it didn’t,” she laughed, kissing the top of his head as he feasted at her breasts.