Revenge of the Witch

by J. M. Davies

  He whispered in her ear. “How can I resist when you taste so delicious, my love? Besides, we agreed, if I needed to feed, you would allow me. I cannot eat the junk they call food, and I cannot afford to be weak when our kind are being hunted and slaughtered. Are you hoping that I will be next? Is that it?”

  The lash of his tongue along the column of her throat rendered her speechless, and she tilted her head to allow him more access as he continued his journey down to her collarbone. The idea of Roman being out of the picture would solve many problems, but add a few too. Plus, the idea of him dead—permanently—made her blood run cold. Her ample breasts heaved up and down as his words rippled through her.

  How would she feel?

  She wished she had opted for a thick roll neck pullover, instead of a wispy black silk shirt that lay open to expose her creamy curves. Only on rare occasions did she allow Roman to feed from her. Usually, he managed to quench his thirst from his private harem of willing victims, all women. But when he needed her, sex was strictly off the table—touching kept to a minimum. Over the last few weeks, his demands had increased and little by little, the intimacy grew, leaving her quaking because the lines between them were getting muddy and confused beyond any rationale. She may be inexperienced in the ways of men and sex, but she knew enough to know that despite her head telling her to steer clear, her body lusted after this dark and dangerous prince.

  But where did that leave Jake?

  “That’s not it—I can’t let you. Not unless you promise not to mess with my head and compel me,” she said breathlessly. Isabella raised her head as Roman stopped his exploration. She met his dark, intense eyes with burnt chips of amber that flared with overriding intensity. She hoped he would change position. Give her space.

  Instead, he lowered his head again, sniffed her neck, and flicked his warm tongue on the throbbing pulse in her neck, licking in soft strokes. Each wet flick made her core clench and tingle. The rough stubble that grazed his chin scratched her neck, marking her, and she shivered at the friction.

  As she wriggled, he grabbed her wrists with one of his hands and raised them above her head. He pressed his taut, broad chest over her soft breasts, crushing them. Tilting his hips forward, the hard outline of his cock pressed into her belly. And she shut her eyes as a rising storm of whirling sensations clawed its way up from her toes, to her thighs and her abdomen, making her pant, and crave for things she shouldn’t.

  “I have never needed to glamor you, Isabella, to taste you, but now my curiosity is piqued.”

  Roman kissed the pulse in her neck and time slowed as she heard each frantic beat of her heart. Finally, she twisted away from him, and arched her back to push at his heavy frame. But he slipped his hand down inside her pants to cup her tender mound. She gasped at the brazen contact, but the scream stalled inside and she froze.

  “Roman.”

  Heat pooled in the apex between her legs, and she pressed her head into the pillow as her panties dampened at his tender exploration. Tears stung her eyes. No. But Roman stroked her velvet-soft folds with his finger and grunted at discovering the wetness there.

  “Whether you want to admit it or not, my dear Isabella, your body craves me. You’re so wet right now, that if I had a mind to, I could make you mine right now.”

  His finger toyed with her glossy lips, exploring the length of her slick opening, and a pulsing, demanding need beckoned. Isabella wanted him to quench the thirst that rose inside. To give her the release she desperately needed. She swallowed, feeling hyper aroused, but unwilling to surrender to the riot of sensations he wove through her body—or he would torment her forever. Isabella tightened her core and squeezed her thighs together, but Roman nudged her legs wide apart and thrust his finger deep inside her searing heat. A burst of delicious coiling pleasure charged through her blood as he pressed in and out. A rhythmic slapping noise surrounded her, as Roman added a second finger, stretching her as tight muscles clamped around him. Sharp teeth traced back and forth along her neck.

  “Come for me, il mio amore.”

  The soft, seductive Italian voice all but pushed her over the edge. He increased his urgent rhythm and a moan escaped her lips as she came. Wave after wave of spasms fanned out and her body trembled with the orgasm. Boneless and sated, she sank into the mattress. The sting of teeth sinking in her neck was a blur as she writhed under him. As the burn of his drawing blood deepened, she shoved at his chest.

  But the initial pain receded as Roman drank, moaning at her throat and holding her shoulders tight against him. A rising thrumming need rose in her belly as he cupped her breast, massaging the tender skin softly. He rubbed his thumb over her swollen sensitive bud, and she clutched his massive shoulders, wanting more. With each gentle brush of his thumb, her core throbbed and ached with need, but Roman shifted and lifted his head. He licked her skin before he pushed away and rolled to his side to study her.

  Isabella couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Her body tingled and throbbed with torment and desire. As her breathing slowed, she risked glancing sideways at him and caught his dark and mysterious eyes fixed on her with an expression that told her he knew her deepest and most wanton secrets. Humiliation burned her cheeks, and she twisted away to get off the bed.

  He caught her wrist and yanked her back. “I arouse you, Isabella, and right now, your sweet body is driving me crazy when it calls out with such blatant need. You should know, if you don’t already, my race are highly sexed creatures. It’s nothing to have multiple partners. I suspect your coven is similar. But I want you to know, for you, I’m willing to sign an exclusivity agreement. Either way, you are mine, Isabella, but I thought you may have concerns over multiple partners.”

  At times, Roman surprised her by his genuine concern. She knew his frank admission was an attempt to allay her fears because she knew he slept around. But his arrogance and the futility of her situation only served to deepen her annoyance. She swung her left arm high to smack him, but he captured her wrist and he pinned her down on the bed, hovering over her. Twisting and struggling beneath him, she attempted to move, but couldn’t make him budge. He held her until she stilled.

  “Such wild passion. You will make an excellent lover one day. Today, I wanted to test a theory I have about you and the discovery proved me right. You want me, Isabella. You haven’t fully accepted that, yet, but you will. And make no mistake, I want you, and I always protect what’s mine. You will yearn for me, but I will not touch you until the time is right.”

  She laughed at him and pushed her hips up to get him to move. But her sex brushed his arousal and he rubbed himself against her clit. She opened her mouth, savoring the delicious thrums of wicked pleasure the friction gave her, and he chuckled.

  “Once you realize, that the desire swimming in your veins right now is your reaction to me, not some spell or hypnosis, you will beg me. You need someone who knows your needs, someone you feel safe to explore all your fantasies with, and one who allows you to be free to let go. You can torture your mortal, if you must, but he isn’t for you. And, if I catch you flirting with him in public, I will take drastic measures—that I will enjoy, but you will not. You may not love me, but your body wants me to fuck it. I can smell your desire every time I touch you. Does Blue Eyes get you wet and horny? You were made for me, and the sooner you realize that—the better for all our sakes.”

  His sharp, sex-infused words should repulse her, but tiny sparks flared out, shocking her. She pressed her eyes shut. He couldn’t be right, but her cheeks flamed.

  “Let me go—you animal. I don’t trust you, I never will, and I will never beg. You’re a liar, Roman. You’ve fed. Now leave me the hell alone.” Her voice shook.

  “Little girl, I can show you what it is to be worshiped. I can do things to your sinful body you cannot begin to imagine in your wildest dreams. You will beg for me, Isabella, and I will not show any mercy when you do, so be prepared.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but in his usua
l irritating fashion, he vanished or shifted—whatever the hell he did—leaving her a bundle of throbbing need and fresh tears.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The interview with Huron from the Assembly guards lasted less than thirty minutes, and Ella strolled into the doctor’s room in the basement of Steel’s fortress. Dr. Elizabeth Davies, Orion’s official doctor, had agreed to look after Nate this morning while Ella attended the gathering. Although she had been reluctant to leave her bundle of blond wispy hair and bright-blue eyes, she relinquished him, trusting the doctor with her baby. The circumstances behind Nate’s delivery still haunted her dreams. Her abduction. The memories of burying a baby, the loss and mourning she went through, only to discover Nate lived, but was being held at Black Hawk by the professor. A constant reminder of what she had almost lost, and the memories caused disturbed nights.

  She walked into the airy room filled with light. The sun shone through the wall of glass that gave an uninterrupted view of the ocean. Ella mused how little this modern space resembled a doctor’s office. The walls were painted a light gray and the wood a stark white. A wall of rustic cream stone divided the two spacious areas. In the reception area, several leaf-green slingback chairs surrounded a square glass coffee table; further on stood a long, neat, black desk with a seat behind it as well as in front. Beyond lay a fully equipped examination room.

  Ella smiled as she found Elizabeth sitting in one of the easy chairs, with Nate sucking on the nipple, draining the last of his formula. The pretty doctor raised her head and smiled back. The quiet woman, with her choppy, blonde hair, pert nose, and intelligent blue eyes behind large round glasses, appeared at ease in her makeshift role of babysitter. The doctor handed the empty bottle to Ella and rubbed her baby’s back to burp him.

  “How’s my gorgeous boy been?” Ella itched to hold and smell the soft baby who held her entranced the second she laid eyes on his.

  “As good as gold. He slept, for almost two hours. I’ve fed and changed him. Now, he’s all yours.” Elizabeth passed the baby over.

  Ella accepted the light weight to gather him close to her chest, soaking in his calming lavender scent mixed with his unique odor that she adored and couldn’t get enough of. She stared down at the pale-blue onesie with a brown reindeer on the front with large antlers keeping him warm from the winter chill.

  Elizabeth placed a white cotton blanket over Nate, and she smiled up at her. “You should put him down for a nap. You look like you could do with a sleep yourself.”

  She nodded, not taking her eyes off Nate, but couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped. “I will. Thanks for this morning. Did you hear what happened?”

  “It’s all everyone is talking about. I thought I would have been called to examine the deceased, but I understand from Marcus that the Assembly insisted on handling the removal of the body themselves. They will perform the autopsy. They wouldn’t even let me take a quick look.” She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her slim nose.

  “So, Marcus called you?”

  The doctor tucked a small strand of hair behind her delicate ears, and smiled. “Actually, he popped in to check on Nate about an hour ago. He explained he wouldn’t get to see him until later. He dotes on him as much as you do. You’re so lucky, Ella.”

  Breathing in, she examined the young woman who looked about her age, and wondered why she worked for the private security company Orion—well, besides the money. If what Steel offered her back last year was standard, it would be hard to refuse, but stuck out here, in reclusive, harsh, coastal Maine, excitement didn’t come with the job. Carrying out physicals on the agents, and providing counseling for those with post-traumatic stress disorder, wasn’t fast-paced or cutting edge. At times, she thought the doctor must be bored and lonely.

  “Do you ever get the chance—you know, to go on a date?” Ella’s words slipped out before she even questioned why.

  The doctor removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Hm, let me see, the last time I went out to dinner—wow, at least a year ago with a friend from college. Not a date, a friend. Not that I haven’t been asked, but you know how it is—the one you like doesn’t know you exist. Anyway, I’m quite happy here with my book boyfriends. At least they’re reliable and satisfying—unlike most men.”

  Ella smiled at the gentle woman as she pointed at the built-in bookcase, and she flicked her gaze back to her fresh, makeup-free face. She wondered who the blind man could be, because under the glasses and doctor’s coat hid a stunning woman, even if she didn’t realize it herself. Glancing down at Nate, who wriggled in her arms and made gurgling noises, she stood, and Elizabeth came over with her baby sling. The doctor held Nate as Ella placed the soft cream material over her head and pulled it down in front. She gathered her baby into her arms and tucked him in, securing the material around him so he lay pressed up close against her chest, warm and snug.

  “Thanks, Liz. Why don’t you come for dinner Saturday evening? After what happened, I think we need to all get together and it would be great to chat longer.” Elizabeth frowned for a moment, and at first Ella thought she would refuse. “We could get takeout. You know I burn toast.”

  The young woman laughed. “I did hear something like that. How about I cook dinner?”

  Guilt flooded through Ella, but the idea of a home-cooked meal sounded tempting.

  “I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “Honestly—you would be doing me a favor. Being on my own, I live on takeout.”

  Ella nodded, knowing that for most of her life it had been the same. But in her case, she would rather be working out or training with her weapons rather than spend time in the kitchen. Nothing she made resembled the picture in the recipe book. Luckily for her, Marcus enjoyed cooking.

  “As long as you’re sure, I was also going to invite Henry, Jake, and Isabella. Is that all right?”

  An awkward pause followed and all of the sudden, Ella panicked. “I will buy the food, of course. Let me know what ingredients you want and I’ll sort it all out.”

  She watched as the young woman snapped her eyes closed and swallowed before giving an answer. Her cheeks flushed slightly. “No problem at all. Let me think about the menu and I’ll let you know later, okay?”

  Ella nodded. “Great, and I’ll help in the kitchen.” Maybe, if Steel’s back by then, she could invite him over too. Ella strolled for the exit, and turned back as Elizabeth stood there with her arms folded with a faraway look, twirling the strands of her blonde hair.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Elizabeth replied.

  Twenty minutes later, Ella flopped down on the comfortable couch in front of the stone fireplace in her home. Nate lay in his crib, sound asleep. Going over the past several hours in her mind, she rubbed the pretty moonstone on her bracelet as if for comfort. A heavy lull swamped through her veins, weighing her down and making it impossible to keep her eyes open. The ticking of the clock, once strident and clear, grew dim and distant. Her heavy eyes snapped shut and she drifted far away.

  A sharp wind caught her long hair, tossing it around over her shoulders. “Dagda, we must act—now. I can raise an army to take back the throne, my love.”

  A deep baritone voice pierced through the sweeping gray sky. “My beautiful, passionate, and foolish woman. What use is the throne, when I have lost the ear of my people, tell me?”

  She glided over the soft green grass to join him by his side, brushing her hand along his rugged cheek above his wide jaw covered in a thick white beard. Despite the countless years, his hazel eyes that examined hers were as sharp as the blade she hid under her flowing gown. If she expected any softness from the aging god, she received none, and his lips remained hard and unyielding. He covered her hand with his and removed it from his cheek, turning away from her. At six foot seven with tight muscles, he posed a formidable adversary, but he had a gentle soul.

  “I’m a tired old man. Danu is right to replace me, to bring peace.”

  She pulled away and wrap
ped her arms around her heaving bosom, annoyed at the ease with which her lover surrendered. Didn’t he realize she would do anything for him?

  “It’s my fault,” he added.

  “You fell in love with Ariana—she’s the one to blame. She turned her back on you, and chose a human!” she shouted, furious that her beloved had aged with the loss of the golden-haired beauty, who had rejected him and taken many human lovers. The goddess never loved him and still he wonders about her.

  “I do not blame Ariana. Falling in love is not what we imagine, but I shouldn’t have taken out my sorrow on her children. I shouldn’t have cursed her offspring, and I need to remedy that. I am happy to accept my fate. It’s my cross to bear alone, but you are the Morrigan. You must leave. There can never be anything between us, my queen of death.”

  For centuries, she had been content to remain in the shadows as Dagda’s secret lover, but she had hoped with Ariana in exile there would be a change of heart. She hoped he would acknowledge her openly. Perhaps, even in time, show her a fraction of the love he held for the goddess who betrayed him. Take her as his wife! She had even accepted his need to wander the earth below, in search of her seeking human form. All at once, it was too much. Her high-pitched cry echoed around the high mountains and valley below. A gathering of black crows surrounded her as she swept her arms wide. She would not be cast aside again, and raised her hand, holding a jeweled dagger.

  “Even now, you love her when there is no hope left.”

  With his back facing her, looking over the land below, he replied, “In that, my queen of darkness, we are both damned.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Marcus.

  Lying flat on her belly, Ella stretched her hand over the cool mattress, searching for the warmth her husband provided. Lifting her head from the pillow, she blinked her eyes to peer around the semi-darkness of her bedroom. Propping herself up on her elbows, she didn’t remember getting undressed or climbing into bed. Last night, she had been overwhelmed with the desire for revenge and thoughts of murder. Scrunching her eyes closed, she flicked back over the scenes between the Morrigan and Dagda she had witnessed. She heard Ariana’s name mentioned and saw the weary look of loss the old warrior displayed. This Dagda cursed Ariana’s children, but felt remorse.