Magical Memories

by Donna Fletcher

  And Michael simply turned and walked out of the room. She grabbed the edge of the counter, needing something to hang on to, an anchor to keep her in place, or else she would sink in a pitiful heap to the floor.

  Leave? How could he?

  She didn’t expect this from him. No, she didn’t expect this from Marcus, but he wasn’t Marcus, or he didn’t know that he was or didn’t care that he was. He was reacting as Michael would. The man who had suffered many hurts and disappoints in his life and was attempting not to suffer another.

  This was the man she loved.

  Could she let him leave, walk out of her life? Would Marcus let him, or would Michael be the stronger of the two? Or did any of it matter?

  She shook her head. Nothing mattered to her at the moment but Michael and how she felt about him. She could not deny her love for him.

  Him.

  Not Marcus.

  She loved Michael with all his physical and emotional scars.

  He was an exceptional man who accepted people for their own worth. He had the courage to face adversities and emerge stronger because of them. He had a good, kind soul and she could not let him simply walk out of her life. She had waited too long for him.

  Michael.

  Not Marcus.

  With shaky legs, Tempest approached a chair. Her hand didn’t leave the counter until she could plant it firmly on the back of a chair by the table. She sat to give her decision thought.

  It was one that was necessary and one she had known was inevitable, but with this joining there was one difference.

  With Marcus she understood she could never really surrender herself completely to him. To do so would be surrendering her powers to his and forging a bond so powerful nothing could destroy it.

  With Michael?

  She shook her head. Could she join with him and not completely surrender herself? She didn’t know and not knowing gave her reason to pause and consider the consequences. Joining with Michael could cause Marcus to emerge full force with all his powers, abilities and memories, but then there was the spell.

  It had to be fulfilled one way or another. And a portion of it already had been. Michael had created a life for himself that had taught him invaluable lessons and had strengthened his character. From their many talks she had discovered how he had learned to cherish life not only for himself but for others. And she understood that his scars represented the battles he had fought to protect others. He had surrounded himself with magic and light without realizing it and it had served him well. That brought him to the point in the spell where he might feel as though he were losing his way and instinctively he had sought her out.

  Whether or not he recalled all the words, she had said something had driven him to find her and that something was the force of the spell. It was in his dreams that he recalled magical memories, and the way in which he responded to them would be a deciding factor in his choice.

  She shook her head slowly, her thoughts troubling her. What if he chose unwisely?

  Would she have the courage to look Michael in the eyes and send him away forever?

  Her question produced a moment of fear that startled her. Fear was an emotion she rarely experienced, since she understood its conception. One had to believe in it to give it life. That meant that she feared losing Michael more than she cared to admit.

  Witches were wise women. They understood the variables and rhythms of life and worked with them. They forever sought knowledge and the understanding that came with it.

  Their steps were taken with purpose and awareness. And Tempest could do no differently now.

  She was aware, fully aware, of how much she loved Michael, so her purpose was clear. She wished to join with him out of love. She understood the consequences and chose to accept them, whatever they may be.

  And fear?

  She smiled. She would not allow the wasteful emotion to interfere.

  She stood and saw to covering the cooked food so that it would remain hot. She laughed to herself, knowing that she would reheat the dishes later, much later this evening. With purpose and awareness that gave her courage, she calmly climbed the steps.

  Michael walked out of the bathroom shirtless and shoeless, wearing his worn blue jeans. His wet hair dripped water onto his naked chest, the tiny beads sliding slowly down over his hard muscles.

  Tempest walked directly to him ready to tell him how she felt, how much she wanted him to stay here with her when instead she did what seemed the most natural. She leaned forward and with an eager tongue began to lick the beads of water off his chest.

  Her actions stunned him and for a moment he froze, shutting his eyes against the exquisite pleasure, knowing he had to stop her and knowing he damn well didn’t want to. Her tongue licked softly and gently, like a kitten slowly drinking herself full. With the tip of her tongue she flicked at the tiny drop caught on his nipple and before she could rush her tongue over the sensitive dark orb he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her a safe distance away from him.

  He fought to control his raging emotions and took several seconds to calm himself, though he doubted the brief cooling period would help. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up, carry her to her bed and make love to her until they both were exhausted. But he wanted them making love because of love, and that was a dream, this was reality.

  Tomorrow he was leaving and he wanted no one-night stand between them. He was about to tell her when she pressed a finger to his lips. “Let me say what I must.”

  He nodded, his heart beating madly and his body aching with anticipation.

  Tempest thought of all the things she wanted to say to him and said the most simple. “I love you. I don’t want you to leave. I want you in my life forever.”

  He smiled and it grew into a gentle laugh. “I’m dreaming, right?”

  She laughed, stepped out of his grasp and with deliberate slowness licked from his nipple, up along his chest to his neck and then to his ear and whispered, “Welcome to my dream.”

  He turned his face to capture her lips with a gentle tug. “Do you really love me?”

  She tugged back at him with more of a demand. “With my heart and soul.”

  Her demand faded as he took command of his own. “I have a condition.”

  “Anything,” she agreed, melting against him.

  He laughed, feeding her raging desire with his own. “Our love must be forever. I can’t love you any other way. I don’t want to.”

  She pulled away from him so she could look into his eyes and see to his soul and know the truth. “You love me, Michael.”

  And he did, she saw it, felt it, understood it.

  Michael loved her.

  “Always,” he admitted candidly. “Since that day in the snowstorm when you appeared out of nowhere and kissed my pain away I’ve loved you. I feel as if I’ve loved you forever.”

  She threw her arms around him. “Oh, Michael, I love you so very much.”

  He scooped her up in his arms, holding her tightly to him. “Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”

  She nibbled at his ear. “Take me to bed and I’ll prove to you this isn’t a dream.”

  They were in her bedroom in no time. Clothes were discarded in haste and they collapsed on the bed, he coming down gently on top of her.

  Maybe it was weeks of controlling his passion or years of waiting to find love. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. “Later we can take our time. I want you right now,” he said and kissed her senseless.

  She felt his need and the impressive size of him pressed hard against her and she grew wet with desire.

  He ran a firm hand over her breast, squeezing the plump mound as his mouth took pleasure in tasting her hard nipple. His hand moved on, while his mouth remained pleasuring them both. His work-worn hands skimmed over her, anxiously moving down along her waist, over her hips, across her belly and easing down into the tangle of soft curls between her legs.

  He moved his mouth to her
s and brushed a kiss over her lips as he said, “Open for me.”

  Her body turned liquid and she did as he asked, his fingers slipping in with suddenness that excited and surprised. He rested his forehead to hers. “Damn, you’re so wet and ready.”

  Her need was as urgent as his and she arched her back and whispered, “Now, Michael, I want you now.”

  He didn’t need coaxing. He had contained himself for far too long, and besides, he had the rest of their lives to take his time with her and that thought made him all the more hard and eager.

  He entered her quickly and she cried out from the sheer joy of his much-wanted invasion.

  He stilled, looking down at her in question, and she smiled.

  “Don’t stop. You feel so good.”

  He grinned, pleased by her encouragement, and once again moved to bury himself deeper inside her. She moved to accept him, thrust after thrust, until they set a rhythm that captivated them both.

  Tempest wanted it to go on and on forever, but it had been so very long and she knew her climax would come fast and furious.

  Michael looked down at her, sensing her fight to prolong her release and feeling her need to surrender to herself. “Don’t fight it, Tempest. Don’t,” he urged and drove harder into her.

  “Let go. Let go.”

  She shook her head. “Not without you.”

  He laughed. “Damn, you’re stubborn—but I’m in control here, sweetheart.”

  And with that he thrust into her fast and furiously, rushing her to a climax that had her throwing her head back and screaming.

  He joined her without a problem, his own release as explosive as hers. They shuddered against each other and remained joined for several silent moments, each reluctant to part. And when they finally did it was to lay wrapped in each other’s arms.

  With his breathing finally calmed, Michael said, “Damn, it’s real.”

  She playfully pinched him in the side. “Very real.”

  He laughed and hugged her to him. “And magical.”

  “Love is magic at its best.”

  “Did it take my leaving for you to realize your love for me?”

  He questioned almost as much as she did, but she understood his need to know. “Not really. I found myself attracted to you from the beginning and the more I came to know you the more I cared and the more I fell in love.”

  “No love at first sight?” He didn’t sound disappointed—only curious.

  She was honest. “I definitely felt something when we first met, and I felt the need to explore it, examine it and enjoy it. And in doing so I discovered love at its best.”

  He kissed her, soft and gentle. “Damn, I’m lucky.”

  “We both are.”

  His next question sounded anxious. “What now?”

  Her precise thoughts and not an easy question to answer, but her years of wisdom provided one. “Let nature take its course.”

  He seemed skeptical. “And what course might that be?”

  “Time, so we may come to know one another better.”

  “I feel as if I’ve known you a lifetime, and I feel anxious for our life together to begin. I want all of you completely and fully. I want your total surrender and yet somehow that isn’t even enough.” He shook his head. “It’s crazy how I feel about you. I don’t even understand it at times. There are moments I feel the need to protect you, and then there are moments I want your complete capitulation. The one constant in my warring emotions is that you remain a part of me, an intricate part, or else life simply wouldn’t be worth living.”

  She understood better than he how he felt and why, and yet she could provide no explanation. He had to discover on his own. He had to emerge in his own time and in his own way.

  Her hands were tied. The only thing she could do was love him.

  And she did.

  Later that evening Tempest reheated the cold food and they took their plates to eat before the warmth of the fireplace in the living room.

  “This food tastes too good to be leftovers,” he said, scooping up a mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “Magic,” she said with a smile. “It comes in handy when cooking.”

  “Is your interest in magic because of your ancestor?”

  “I must admit that she has a distinct bearing on my life.”

  She poured them each another glass of Pinot Noir from the bottle that sat on the coffee table.

  “When did you learn of her existence?”

  Tempest sipped at her wine and took time answering. “I can’t recall.” She then decided to turn the question back on him. “You have a fascination with her, don’t you?”

  He almost looked embarrassed. “I don’t understand why. Don’t know what I find so interesting about witches and such.”

  “It’s the unexplainable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The concept of witches has fascinated society for centuries. Today it is a practiced craft, though not totally accepted by society. There are still those who believe it to be the work of the devil, and then there are those who abuse the craft and hurt the very nature of it. And there are those who wish to believe in the power or magic of witches.”

  “That is why myths and tales pop up from time to time.”

  “Again, the unexplainable. People are thrilled and excited by the idea and the possibility that magic could be real, when true magic can only be discovered by believing.”

  He laughed, dropping his napkin to his empty plate. “Back to belief, are we?” He finished the wine in his glass and poured himself another. “Do you believe that your ancestor’s powers came from her simply believing?”

  “If she were a true witch her magic wouldn’t work if she didn’t believe.”

  “Okay,” he said, leaning forward. “Let’s put this theory of yours to a test. You claim that if I believe strongly enough I could perform magic, right?”

  She worried where this questioning would take them. Michael might not believe, but Marcus had no difficulty in believing in himself. “Right.”

  “So a little hocus-pocus and I could raise that wine bottle off the table, right?”

  She smiled and nodded. Marcus detested wasting his talent on menial magic—perhaps her concern was for nothing.

  He flexed his fingers and blinked his eyes a few times as if preparing himself. “Okay, here goes.” He concentrated on the near-empty wine bottle, focusing all his attention on it, but then it wasn’t his attention that was needed; it was his energy.

  Tempest couldn’t help but giggle. He looked so serious in his concentration and determination to prove her wrong.

  Suddenly the wine bottle shot across the table and crashed into the flaming logs in the fireplace and for an instant, a sheer fraction of a second, Tempest caught the fury of Marcus in Michael’s dark eyes. He was there waiting, growing stronger, more powerful with each passing day and by joining with Michael she had just increased his strength considerably.

  “Damn,” Michael muttered. “Did I do that?”

  “Do you believe you did?” she asked, hiding her concern with a smile.

  He looked perplexed. “Part of me wants to believe and part of me looks for sound reasoning.”

  “The choice is yours.”

  “What do you think?” he asked as if searching for the correct answer.

  She spoke words she hoped would help him. “I think you’re a good witch who needs practice.”

  He laughed, shook his head briefly, and then stared at her with a sudden passion that instantly heated her body. “Since I’m a good witch, let’s make some good magic.” He didn’t wait for her response; he crawled on hands and knees around to her side.

  Her eyes widened from the look of pure carnal lust in his eyes. “Don’t you want to go upstairs?”

  “No,” he said firmly, sitting back on his haunches and grabbing her by the ankles to yank her toward him.

  His swift action caught her off guard, and she was unable to grab hold
of anything or do anything to stop her sudden momentum.

  He pushed her gray knit dress up to her waist and grinned when he saw that she wore no panties. His grin grew as he spread her legs and raised her up to bury his face between them.

  She gasped and grabbed at the rug beneath her. His tongue was quick and skillful, and she was mindless in mere seconds, begging him like a fool for more and more and more.

  When he stopped she almost cried out her disappointment, but then she heard his zipper open and moaned with anticipation. He grabbed her around the waist and brought her down on him fast and hard, so fast that she climaxed, immediately crying out his name.

  Her body grew limp, but he would have none of that; he wanted more.

  “Ride me,” he demanded. “Ride me hard.”

  His hands on her waist set the rhythm and bracing her hands on his broad shoulders for support she picked up the tempo and rode him harder than she thought possible. With what little reasoning she had left, she thought to make him cry out her name, but it was she who screamed and he who captured her mouth with a crushing kiss as together they exploded in a blinding climax.

  They finally made it up to her bedroom after cleaning up the living room and leaving the dishes in the sink. She insisted she needed a shower and he insisted on joining her, tormenting her unmercifully with his hands and lips.

  And once in the bedroom he continued to intimately torture her until she thought she would completely surrender to him, but she didn’t. She held a small part of herself back and kept her eyes from directly meeting his. She didn’t want to see Marcus there. This was her time with Michael. Marcus would return soon enough, but for now she wanted Michael and only Michael.

  And he wanted her. She could feel his raging desire as strongly as her own and met his demands with those of her own. This time was theirs. How long it would last she didn’t know and at the moment she didn’t care.

  With a tiredness born of pleasure they lay wrapped in each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Tempest. Tempest. You know I am here, answer me.”

  She shook her head. If she ignored his insistent voice he would go away.