Magical Memories

by Donna Fletcher

  A hint of a moan sounded from Beatrice and all the fairies breathed a sigh of relief and buzzed about how they were confident that the Ancient One would make Beatrice well.

  “Easy,” Tempest warned softly when Beatrice attempted to sit up fast.

  Beatrice held her head. “I feel as though I’ve had too many fruit nectars.”

  Tempest laughed. “You took a whopping blow.”

  “The only thing I remember is going into a flying dive to protect you.”

  “Protect me?”

  Beatrice sat up slowly, straightening her crooked head wreath before pointing at Michael. “From him.”

  Tempest finally understood and smiled. “He wasn’t harming me, we were being playful.”

  Beatrice looked at her oddly until she comprehended her remark. Then her face turned bright red. “Oh good gosh!”

  Tempest attempted to contain her laughter. “I appreciate the thought.”

  Beatrice stood with help from Tempest. “My deepest apologizes, Ancient One.”

  “Accepted, but not necessary, and I want you all to know that Michael is a truly good soul,” she said, looking around her.

  A soft buzz filled the air and Beatrice flew up to join her friends, though she flitted for a moment in front of Tempest’s face. “We trust your word, but we will remain close in case you should require our help.”

  “Thank you,” Tempest said. “But you must go now; the spell cannot hold Michael much longer. And he is not ready to be introduced to fairies just yet.”

  Beatrice smiled, waved and with a rapid flutter ascended up and away, the other fairies following close behind her.

  Michael began to move and Tempest had mere minutes to come up with a reasonable explanation. She chose confusion as her defense.

  “What the hell is going on?” Michael asked and shook his head, expecting something to fly at him.

  She bounced up to swat at him playfully. “You don’t play fair.”

  He raised a brow. “Fair or fairy?”

  “Fairy?” she repeated and then clapped her hands like an excited child. “Oh, you’ve seen a fairy! It’s said the woods are full of them.”

  Michael felt confused and took a moment to think. “You said fairy.”

  “I said fair.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “Something about a fairy and a knockout.”

  “You saw a fairy that was a knockout?”

  He pointed an accusing finger at her but found he lacked words of reason.

  She playfully grabbed his finger, covering it completely with her hand. There had been enough excitement for one day. “I prefer where we were about you not being fair.”

  His thoughts drifted back to his previous intentions and the tree. Unfortunately he couldn’t shake the fairy dilemma. “Do you think there are fairies in these woods?”

  “Belief, Michael,” she reminded him.

  The sun suddenly vanished behind a cloud and the wind picked up.

  Tempest released his finger and stepped in close to him.

  His arms instantly circled her protectively. “We better get back to the house. It looks like the weather may change.”

  Tempest agreed, not liking the look of the ominous overhead cloud.

  Fat raindrops fell just as they entered the house and the sudden weather change disturbed Tempest. It had been a beautiful day with no rain predicted. Where had the cloud come from?

  Tempest had barely slipped out of her jacket when Michael slid eager arms around her. “About that challenge.”

  “That was in the woods,” she teased.

  “A challenge is a challenge, sweetheart.”

  “There is the bed upstairs,” she offered with a smile.

  He shook his head slowly and his eyes darkened the same moment the afternoon light faded and chilling darkness descended followed by a powerful clap of thunder and a sharp bolt of lightning.

  Tempest felt a rush of heat enter the room and she instantly erected a guard around herself.

  Michael stepped away from her, stripping off his sweatshirt. She tried to ignore his muscled chest and the impressive width of his shoulders but it wasn’t working. She had wrapped her arms around him too many times not to think about how good he felt. Marcus had been tall, lean and slim of build and his strength remarkable. She had felt a hint of that strength in Michael and knew it would grow.

  Michael looked as if he rushed toward her, and she took several hasty steps back.

  “Keep going,” he said, his voice deeply commanding.

  She had the distinct feeling Marcus was making himself known to her, due probably to the fact that she wrapped a silent spell around him. He had hated when she demonstrated her skills and he was incapable of deflecting them.

  There was, however, one place he always remained in control, and that was when they joined.

  Tempest continued to take careful and slow steps backwards into the kitchen.

  “Turn,” he ordered sharply and pointed his finger toward the sitting room.

  She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Did he intend their destination to be the couch?

  He shook his head and gave a deep, chilling laugh. “You’re so easy to read. The couch doesn’t interest me; the greenhouse is our destination.”

  She tripped over her own feet and righted herself before he could reach out and touch her. She was right—Marcus was tormenting her. They had shared a memorable moment in the greenhouse and she supposed he intended to remind her of it.

  But what of Michael? He was still part of him. How would he react?

  She took cautious steps and once at the greenhouse door she turned around, opened it and entered in a rush.

  Michael proved just as fast coming up behind her, slipping a possessive arm around her waist and whispering near her ear. “I want to taste you.”

  Her knees grew weak and if he hadn’t been holding her she would have collapsed. It wasn’t only his suggestive remark that caused her reaction; it was the intensity of his feelings when he spoke. She could sense the strength of his desire to do just as he said and it fired her own passion.

  She knew their destination; she had gone there with Marcus. It was a small, tucked-away area abundant with blossoming plants and the surrounding pathways were heavy with mulch, providing the area with a decidedly woodsy atmosphere. And the overhead glass offered a spectacular view of the sky, dark and ominous as it was.

  Michael stopped exactly where she had expected him to; though she hadn’t expected the kisses he rained along her sensitive neck or for her knees to turn to complete jelly.

  “I’m going to start at the top and work my way down.”

  That was it; her legs refused to hold her any longer.

  He laughed softly in her ear and tightened his hold on her waist.

  She hadn’t known he had grabbed the throw from the chair in the sitting room until he tossed it on the ground in front of her. It appeared to float down and spread perfectly over the mulch. She couldn’t help but recall how Marcus had performed a similar feat, tossing down his cloak to spread evenly on the ground.

  He rested his lips next to her cheek. “Now to rid you of these clothes.”

  He was purposely tormenting her. But who—Marcus or Michael?

  We are one.

  The problem was that she was attempting to separate the two and that was impossible. They were one and until one dominated the other there was nothing she could do.

  Michael settled the dilemma for her by bringing her attention back to him and the matter at hand. He was slipping her sweater up, his hands roaming beneath the bulky wool to tease her warm flesh.

  His fingers roamed slowly along her rib cage, lingering here and there as he made his way to her breasts. His hand moved over her black lace bra and teased the nipple beneath until it was rock hard and aching.

  She waited impatiently for him to continue, pressing her body back against his, but he surprised her by suddenly pulling the sweater over her head and tossing
it aside, then yanking her back against him and holding her firmly to him with the weight of his arm.

  His free hand resumed in tormenting her nipples while his mouth feed feverishly at her neck and she moaned from the double pleasure he was creating for them both.

  She felt his own readiness rubbing against her, and she relished the thought that he desired her with as much passion as she did him.

  His own impatience won out over his methodical assault and with a rush he freed her of her bra. He spun her around and he dipped his head to capture a hard nipple in his mouth and feast. Her hands went to his broad shoulders for support and her head fell back with a small, low moan slipping from her lips.

  She could feel his impatience grow along with her own. She wanted more and she wanted it now. He stepped back and hurried out of the rest of his clothing. Her breath caught when she viewed him completely naked—not that she hadn’t before, but now in the shadowed light his body looked even more impressive in size and strength, and added to that was an air of danger and mystery.

  As he approached her she wondered who was about to intimately touch her—Michael or Marcus?

  He immediately saw to removing the rest of her clothes and tossed them carelessly to the side, his hands eager to return to her. He held her for a moment at arm’s length, his eyes taking their time to roam over her with appreciation. He chose simple words to enflame her, though they came from his heart and that made all the difference. “You’re beautiful.”

  He walked her slowly toward the throw on the ground and when her feet felt the soft knit she shivered, knowing he had finally had her where he wanted her. He smiled, understanding her emotions, and then with a playful wink he lowered his lips to her breasts.

  She lost all sense of time and reason as he did as he had promised. He worked his way slowly down her body and when her legs began to turn weak he ordered her to stand.

  He would not be denied; he would have her his way.

  When his mouth finally touched his intended target she thought she would faint, but he ordered her yet again to stand still and she found herself obeying, though with great difficulty.

  His tongue and fingers alternated in pleasuring her and she moaned and pleaded with him that she was about to collapse and still he would not relent. He simply continued having her his way.

  She was senseless with passion by the time he lowered her to the soft throw and she could do nothing but moan, “Please, Michael, please.”

  He laughed softly as he covered her with his body and took her gentle pleas into his mouth to taste and devour. He pulled his mouth from hers and as he positioned himself to enter her he ordered on a whisper, “Surrender.”

  The word startled her and she looked into his eyes, dark brooding eyes that always insisted on having his way. She shook her head.

  His entered her with deliberate slowness. “Surrender.”

  “No,” she said, though her body arched eagerly against him. He slipped further into her only to slip back out. “Surrender to me, Tempest.”

  “No.” Her response sounded more like a plea.

  He laughed and entered her full force, only to draw back yet again.

  A moan of disappointment escaped her lips and she bit at them, angry with herself for giving him satisfaction in knowing that his little game was working.

  His laugh turned hardy and his tormenting more thorough as he continued his game.

  She called on her own strength and power and wisely began to repeat his name. “Michael. Michael. Michael.”

  It was a litany in his head and he shut his eyes and listened. His name sounded so good on her lips and he felt so good being inside her, loving her. And damn, but he loved her. She was part of him and he was part of her, and he couldn’t bear life without her.

  She was a necessity to his soul.

  And there was no need for surrender—only a merging. A merging of two souls into one, which was what he wanted from her. He wanted to merge with her. Lose himself in her. Forget the world existed. There would be only the two of them, stepping from the darkness into the light.

  He opened his eyes and looked down at her, felt his body moving slowly, felt her body responding in kind, and he smiled. She smiled back and they began to move together, increasing their pace, moving with a more dominating force and riding on a love so pure it startled them both.

  Michael took command then and Tempest obeyed without question. He took them soaring to new heights and as they spiraled back down in an all-consuming heat their hearts caught, their souls touched and they burst together in a blinding light.

  After waiting for his breathing to calm, Michael moved off her to draw her into his arms. She snuggled against him with a contented sigh and they lay in silence, watching the dark overhead cloud disappear and dusk cover the land.

  “First night star,” Tempest said, pointing her finger at the tiny glow in the far distance. “You must make a wish and hold it strong to your heart and silent on your lips.”

  Michael watched her reach out as if plucking the tiny twinkling brightness from the night sky and brought her fist to rest over her heart.

  “Now you.”

  “The heavens have granted me my wish; I have you. I don’t want anything else.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Oh, Michael,” she said on a sigh and moved her clenched fist to rest over his heart. “Then I’ll share my wish with you.”

  “I want us to share everything, Tempest. Everything.” His kiss was solid and firm, as if his intention was to seal their fate.

  But their fate had yet to be sealed by the completion of the spell and Tempest held her wish firm to his heart and wished with all her power and might that when the time came he would make a wise choice.

  She wanted so badly to do more, to help him more, to make him understand the consequences more, but she couldn’t. She had cast a spell that would give him a chance, a strong second chance at life. The rest remained up to him.

  She opened her clenched hand and placed her palm against his chest, the warmth of her healing touch penetrating his skin and she silently repeated her wish.

  Give us both the courage to choose wisely.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A sudden storm late that night pounded the cottage and Michael’s sleep turned restless. He fought the dream that began to haunt him, but the force it possessed was like an intoxicating drug he was powerless to resist. And though he made an attempt to fight, he always managed in the end to surrender.

  Surrender to an energy that all but consumed him.

  The man’s hand ran over the naked woman’s damp flesh. Their joining had been fast and furious, neither able to wait to join, but yet there was a tension in the air that was heavy and troubling. They lay in a large bed draped with velvet curtains and a fire crackled in a large stone hearth, keeping the room warm.

  The man’s hand finally rested on the woman’s stomach.

  “Why do you fight your surrender?”

  “I cannot give you what you want.”

  “Yet I feel you want to give it.”

  The woman spoke softly. “What I want to give and what is right proves difficult.”

  “You deny yourself needlessly. Every time we join I can feel you on the verge of surrender, so close and so tempting and just when I think you will let go, give yourself to me completely, you pull back and deny yourself.”

  “It is necessary,” she insisted.

  “Why? You fear being touched by darkness?”

  She smiled with confidence. “Do you fear being touched by light?”

  “I can manage the light,” he answered with equal confidence.

  “Can you,” she challenged. “In the light there is love, an emotion you seem to have difficulty with.”

  “Love makes no sense, it serves no purpose but to entrap and cause heartache and pain. Why subject myself to a useless emotion?”

  “Know the essence of love and know the truth. Is it truth that you fear?”

&n
bsp; He grew annoyed. “I fear nothing, yet I have the power of fear behind me.”

  She shook her head. “Fear holds no power over those who believe and know the truth.”

  He challenged her. “You do not fear darkness, then?”

  “Somewhere in darkness there is light if one but looks with wise eyes.”

  He leaned over her to stare directly into her green eyes. “Surrender to my darkness and see if you can find a shred of light within me.”

  She placed a hand on his lean, hard chest. “I do not need to surrender to find light. You do.”

  A challenge he could not refuse. “I, unlike you, am confident in my powers and do not fear surrender.”

  “Then surrender to me,” she said on a whisper.

  “Gladly,” he said and dropped back on the bed, spreading his arms out and offering his naked body in surrender.

  “You will submit?” she asked seriously.

  “I submit and will do nothing to stop you from having your way with me.”

  She could feel his confidence—it pulsated with strength—and she simply smiled and began to touch him.

  They were both drenched with sweat by the time she climbed on top of him, and he took charge of their joining. She didn’t protest; she let him have his way.

  It was necessary.

  And as they neared climax she whispered, “I found that shred of light in the darkness.”

  Michael bolted up in bed. He was sweating, he was hard as a rock and he felt an invincible power stirring within him. He looked down at Tempest, who slept peacefully. He wanted her with an urgency that he was certain the man in his dreams had felt. He told himself not to disturb her. He told himself to deal with these damn dreams. He told himself to ignore this raging force growing inside him.

  He laughed beneath his breath and reached his hands out for Tempest.

  o0o

  Michael sat on the floor in his room, half a dozen books spread out before him and his eyes fixed on the symbols on the wall. A soft rain drizzled against the window and in the distance he heard the sound of classical music and knew Tempest was relaxing with a cup of tea and possibly readying for an afternoon nap.