Black Magic Lover

by Cynthia Cooke

  Her sweet lips moved across his collarbone, his shoulder, his throat, heating him to the boiling point. “I’m not sure of anything.”

  She moved her hands down his stomach. His breathing went shallow and his eyelids lowered. He had to take back control or she’d have him making love to her on the floor before they even got to the bed.

  Her fingers wrestled with his belt, loosening it and unclasping his pants. “Not even you.”

  His pants fell to the ground to puddle around his shoes.

  White heat fired through him. He slipped his hands down the curve of her waist then he picked her up. He carried her to the bed, kicking shut the bedroom door. He set her down and leaned over her, one hand braced on either side of her. This was it. The time for doubt had passed. He was way beyond the point of reason.

  She smiled at him, then crooked her finger in a come-hither gesture.

  His blood pulsed through him. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, rubbing it against his. Tasting him. Sparring with him.

  He pulled her closer, capturing her tongue with his, pressing his mouth hard against hers. She gave a small whimper of pleasure that shot straight through him. His hunger built. His tongue delved. She sucked on it, drawing it deeper.

  They rolled on their sides, and he ran his hands down her slim back and shifted, pulling her beneath him. She bucked her hips, drawing him down into the juncture between her thighs. He nestled there. Feeling her warmth cradling him, the tickle of her hair stroking his sensitized skin.

  She laced her fingers around his neck and pushed herself against him so he could feel every delicious curve.

  He dipped his head and drew the rose-colored tip of her breast into his mouth, gently at first, then harder, sucking her nipple to a fine point.

  She groaned, throwing her head back, moaning her pleasure, pressing her hips against him. She wanted him. He felt it in her touch, heard it in her throaty moans, smelled it in the sweet musk filling the air.

  Blood thundered through his veins. He slipped his hand down her belly, his fingers playing with her soft curly hair, sliding inside the warm core of her. She was hot and very ready for him.

  She grabbed hold of him, squeezing, stroking, her strong grip guiding him. He gasped at her touch and positioned himself above her. She smiled and he slid deep inside her. She arched, lifting her legs, cradling him within her moist, snug heat.

  He began to move. Slowly at first, rocking back and forth, feeling each tingling sensation up and down the length of him. And the more he moved, the faster he moved, the deeper he wanted to go.

  Her throaty moans urged him faster. Their movements were almost animalistic as they clutched each other.

  He lost himself in the sensations pulsing through him, in the pale blue abyss of her desire-laden gaze, in her musky scent.

  He could feel her heart racing, her blood pounding. Her grasp on his shoulders tightened and he knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be. With a surge of conviction, his passion crested.

  He looked down at her and, for a split second, she expanded, bursting into an explosion of bright shimmering lights. He squinted, blocking out the intensity. She was a vision of white twinkling lights—a warm glow that reached inside him and filled him with such happiness his heart couldn’t contain it.

  She smiled, the lights almost starlike, swirling round and round each other, yet still keeping her form. Her pleasured scream shattered the vision. And she was Laura again, lying beneath him, her body pulsing around him, breaking his control and sending him tumbling over the edge of passion where he couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, he could only feel.

  Chapter 10

  Laura wasn’t looking forward to this confrontation. But she had to know the truth about what Drew’s mother was up to. Was she the one who left the voodoo doll in her room? No more games. While Drew was in the shower, she’d talk to Martha and demand the truth.

  Laura walked into the kitchen.

  “It’s almost the big awakening,” Martha said; her smile a little too wide, a little too bright. Candles of different shapes and sizes littered the room. She picked up a medium-size aluminum pot and poured hot wax into square tin cylinders with geometric designs beat into the sides. Next, she picked up a small bottle and squeezed a drop of liquid into the hot wax. A strange sour odor filled the room. It smelled familiar, but Laura couldn’t quite place it.

  “Martha, I found this next to the bed this morning. Do you recognize the handwriting?” She passed the crumpled note to Martha.

  Martha read the note then handed it back to her. “I don’t know. It says it’s from Drew. Why, was there a problem?”

  “What about this?” She placed the voodoo doll on the table.

  Martha’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, my. Where did you find that?”

  “In my drawer. Do you know what it is?”

  “Well, obviously it’s a voodoo doll, though I must say it is an ugly little thing.” She picked up the trash can and carried it over to her. “Here, throw it away.”

  Laura was tempted, but stopped herself. “No, I think I’ll hold on to it for a little while longer.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “Because if someone is coming into our rooms leaving these kinds of…gifts, then we need to know who it is and what they want.”

  Martha’s gaze narrowed and her red lips thinned, but she didn’t say a word, only turned back to the wax heating on the stove.

  “Martha, Drew told me about the gris-gris,” Laura continued, undeterred. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me about all this?”

  Martha didn’t turn or respond.

  “Martha?”

  She sighed, then slowly turned toward her. “I don’t know what to say, Laura. I can’t imagine why Drew is so determined to be inhospitable. I’m sorry for that, I really am. I’ll have a talk with him.”

  Shocked, Laura stared at the woman who’d babysat her as a child. Who had always been wonderful to her. Could she be right? Did she just make mind shattering love to a man who was playing games with her? Lying to her?

  Trepidation skittered along her nerves. “Martha, is there a key to my room? I’d like to start locking the door.”

  Martha tilted her head in sympathy. “If there was a key, it’s been long lost. We’ve never had a reason for locks and keys way out here.”

  “Well, that may have been true, but I believe there is a reason now.” She gestured toward the doll. “And not only that, there’s some crazy hunter floating around on his boat at night, right out there.” Laura pointed out the window toward the swamp. “It could very well have been him who put a snake in my bed and left me that doll.”

  And not Drew.

  As soon as she had the thought, Drew walked into the room. Laura’s heart skipped a beat.

  “You mean Charlie Wallis?” Martha asked.

  “That old derelict is Mabel’s husband? What happened to him?” Drew asked, his eyes finding Laura’s.

  “The poor man lost his mind after his daughter, Georgette, died,” Martha said. “He’s a harmless old fool, just glides around on his boat muttering about witches and ghosts and how the swamp speaks to him.”

  “What makes you so sure he’s harmless?” Laura thought of the man’s rusty hatchet. He hadn’t appeared too harmless to her.

  Martha’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Oh, Charlie wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

  “Tell that to the rodents,” Laura muttered and stepped closer to Drew. Was it possible it had been him all along? The note, the doll, the snake?

  “Martha, if you can find the keys to the bedroom doors, I would appreciate it.”

  Martha stared at her for a moment, her gaze shifting back and forth between her and Drew, then suddenly she smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “Of course. Whatever you need. I’m really sorry about all this nonsense, Laura.” Martha gestured toward the voodoo doll still sitting on the table. “I hope you won’t let it scare you away.
You belong here at Lionsheart. It is and always will be your home. If you want the locks changed, I’ll be happy to call Tom’s Locksmith and take care of it for you first thing tomorrow. I want you to feel safe here. I’d do it today, but I have somewhere I need to be soon, so I’m sorry if I’ve been a little distracted.”

  Laura’s shoulders dropped as the tension seeped out of her. “Thank you, Martha. That’s very sweet of you. And yes, tomorrow would be great.”

  “We’re going into town,” Drew suddenly announced and picked up the doll off the table then took Laura’s hand.

  For a second, Laura hesitated. But she had to be smart if she was going to figure out the truth of what was going on. She had to determine who was the real Drew. The man who made incredible love to her? Or a man capable of doing anything to get her to leave this house.

  Her house.

  “You will be back for dinner, won’t you? I’m trying out a new recipe I want to serve at the party and I want to make sure I have it just right,” Martha said.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” Drew said. “And yes, we’ll be home for dinner,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest.

  She smiled and picked up another block of wax and added it to her pot. “Good. I’ll see you then. And, Laura, you should get a sweater. There’s a big storm coming in.”

  “Thanks, Martha.”

  In the foyer, Drew took a couple of umbrellas out of the canister by the front door as Laura hurried up the stairs to her room to get a sweater. She didn’t doubt a storm was coming, a bad one.

  And she had a feeling they could expect a lot more than rain.

  Laura tried to calm the anxiety rumbling through her as they crossed the Devil’s Walk Bridge. But they were going to Voodoo Mystique, and no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that it was only a store, the apprehension building within her told her that this voodoo store was much more than it appeared.

  “What’s Mary’s story?” Laura asked as Drew drove them toward town.

  He turned to her, his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe I was imagining it, but yesterday it seemed as if she was lurking in the shadows. Are you sure she’ll want to see us?”

  “Mary can be odd.” Drew flipped on the windshield wipers as the storm’s first raindrops bounced off the glass. “People thought she was in cahoots with your mother to kill Paul. She took a lot of flack after Paul’s death, so I’m sure she doesn’t feel that comfortable around the Larames.”

  “More voodoo stuff?”

  Drew nodded. “She and your mother made Voodoo Mystique into the place for the occult outside New Orleans.”

  The storm broke loose as Drew parked the car. They sat for a moment watching the rain pummel the sidewalk and listening to it batter the roof of the car. The fury of the storm made their small space inside of the warm, dry vehicle seem all the more intimate.

  Cozy, even. But it wasn’t.

  “Your mom denied leaving the doll in my drawer. In fact, she wanted to throw it away. Why would someone who practices voodoo react like that?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. My mother isn’t always who she seems.”

  Laura stared at him. “She isn’t the only one.”

  His brow crinkled with confusion, then his eyes softened and he reached out and touched her cheek. “You sure you’re okay with going in the shop? I can handle this alone, if you want.”

  She fought a strong urge to let him do just that. But she had to talk to Mary for herself. She peered out the blurry windshield at the variety of voodoo dolls displayed in the window of the shop, and stifled a shiver. “I’ll be fine. Mary was my mother’s closest friend and business partner. I have to talk to her. I just hope she will have some answers for me.”

  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she was thankful he was there with her. Even if she couldn’t fully trust him.

  “Then let’s do it,” he said, handed her an umbrella and got out of the car.

  It only took a cold, shocked breath for Laura to realize her mistake in bothering with the umbrella. The wind and rain blew so hard she was drenched by the time she reached the storefront.

  Together, they burst through the door in conjunction with thunder booming across the sky.

  As they closed the door behind them, Mary’s teacup rattled in the saucer. She leaned back in her chair in the front corner of the room silently studying them as they closed their umbrellas and left them by the door.

  “I was wondering how long it would be before you came back for answers.” She flipped over a card from the deck of tarot sitting in front of her.

  Laura’s stomach twisted as she tried to ignore the snap the heavy cards made as Mary flicked them.

  With a gentle hand on her back, Drew led Laura to the small round table by the window where Mary sat. He pulled out a chair for Laura then grabbed the other for himself. “Thanks for seeing us,” he said.

  Laura quickly averted her eyes and looked out the window so she wouldn’t have to see the grotesque and misshapen figures of the voodoo dolls surrounding her or the cards with their disturbing images spread out across the table.

  “We have questions,” Drew said. “But we were hoping you could help us with something else.”

  Laura turned to Mary and saw curiosity mingled with wariness fill her jet-black eyes.

  So many secrets and lies.

  And no one to trust.

  “What do you need?” Mary said, scooping the cards into a pile. She wrapped the deck inside a swatch of purple silk and placed it inside an intricate wooden box.

  Laura took several deep breaths and tried to relax, but found herself mesmerized by Mary’s silver earrings peeking in and out from around her long black tresses.

  Drew pulled the voodoo doll out of his pocket and laid it on the table. Laura watched Mary closely, noticing that the woman didn’t touch the doll, not even to turn it around for a closer look.

  “Is this one of the dolls you sell here?” Drew glanced around the shop as if seeking the answer.

  Laura didn’t have to ask. She remembered everything she’d seen the last time she was here—the dolls; the severed reptile heads; skulls of every shape, size and species and the snake skins.

  She shuddered.

  “No, it isn’t,” Mary said, still not touching the doll.

  Laura could swear the woman paled slightly.

  “You have so many. Are you sure?” Drew pushed.

  Mary murmured something in response, but Laura was no longer listening.

  The sensation of being watched prickled over her. The gloom thickened in the room. Rain clattered on the roof above them, but didn’t offer the same intimacy as it had in the car. Instead it sounded like the barrage from a thousand angry gods. Lightning arced, filling the room with an eerie blue glow.

  Laura darted a glance out the window, afraid of what she’d see. Nothing. There was no one there. She lifted her shoulders against the wisp of cold curling around her neck and covertly looked behind her.

  No one.

  No one else was in the store. There wasn’t anyone watching her, except the hundreds of black holes staring from the skulls of the voodoo dolls.

  But she felt it. Felt eyes boring into her soul. Her stomach churned.

  “Are there any other voodoo shops around where someone could have purchased this doll?” Drew persisted.

  Mary shook her head and stood abruptly. “Would you all like some hot tea?”

  Drew sat back in his chair. “That would be nice, thanks.”

  Laura watched her disappear through a back door. “She knows something. She wouldn’t even go near the doll.”

  He reached for her hand. His touch was warm and gentle, and reminded her of earlier when he’d held her in his arms. She wanted that now. Wanted to get out of this shop, forget all her fears and doubts and just be with him.

  But what if he had left her the note? The doll? She peered into his eyes hoping to glean the trut
h from him.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get her to tell us what she knows.” He leaned forward and lightly touched his lips to hers.

  “How is it that you happened to be home visiting at the exact time I needed you?”

  He smiled, though for some reason it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can’t fight destiny.”

  Or coincidence? If there was such a thing.

  He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her closed fingers. The tension seeped out of her shoulders and, for a moment, as she stared into his warm gaze, she was certain he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

  But only for a moment.

  “So, where did you find the doll?” Mary returned to the room carrying a tray holding a bright copper kettle, a sugar bowl and two more teacups.

  “Someone left it for me in my underwear drawer,” Laura answered.

  Mary’s lips pursed, but she didn’t say a word as she set the teacups on the table and poured hot tea into them.

  Laura wrapped her hands around a cup, letting the warmth fill her. “I believe that necklace—” she pointed to the unicorn wrapped tightly around the doll’s neck “—was one I wore as a child. And the hair…”

  She touched her own hair. “It could be mine.” A chill that had nothing to do with the weather moved through her.

  Mary’s brow creased as she frowned, but she didn’t say a word.

  Why wouldn’t she tell them what they needed to know? Frustration filled Laura as the strong scent of sandalwood incense made her head begin to throb.

  “You must know something about this doll. Something you’re not sharing with us.”

  Mary sat back in her chair and studied Laura for a moment, her eyes narrowing in contemplation.

  “Are you sure you’ve never seen this doll?” Laura persisted.

  “I never said I hadn’t seen it.” Mary took a long sip of her tea, her black gaze holding Laura’s over the rim of the cup. “I said I hadn’t sold it.”

  Laura stiffened in her chair, irritation stealing the last of her patience. “You recognize the doll, then? Do you know who made it? Or why someone would put my old jewelry on it and leave it in my drawer?”