They stood for a moment, transfixed.
“I—” he started.
Her mouth lifted to his, cutting off his words. His fingers glided into her hair.
As her hands moved to his chest, he felt the towel slide against his pajama pants to land between them on the floor. Her fingers danced along his scars. She trembled in his arms, falling into him as if her knees weakened.
Their kiss deepened, tongues moving closer as their bodies pressed together. Warlocks were lustful by nature, and he’d been denying that part of himself for a long time. Her sexual energy fed his starved magick, giving him a rush of power. That’s not the only thing it fed. His arousal lifted to press heavily against the cotton pants.
Kenneth kissed her like a man in need of his fíorghrá.
Fíorghrá? Why was he suddenly thinking about true love? He wasn’t prone to boyish fantasies.
Probably because he’d been without sex for so long and had been dreaming about sleeping with this woman for two years.
A tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind, telling him he should take a step back and make sure this is what she wanted. Even as he intended—well, at least he liked to think he’d intended—to do just that, she turned him so that his back was toward the bed and pushed.
Kenneth landed on the mattress. The bed was high from the ground, so his legs dangled over the side. Andrea crawled over him even as he moved more fully onto the bed. When he lay flat, he stopped his progress, as did she. Her legs parted over his. The heat from her body teased his shaft and he pulled her to him.
Kenneth gasped at the shockwave of pleasure that flooded him at the intimate contact. She kissed him again, her desire unmistakable. Expensive scotch flavored her lips. The wet shirt felt both cold and warm as it clung to her torso.
He lifted her shirt, yanking it over her head and tossing it aside. Soft breasts beckoned his fingers, and he couldn’t resist a small squeeze before sliding his hands up her neck to cup her face.
“Look at me,” he commanded, needing to see the dark depths of her eyes. He searched her for signs of enchantment or magick. Kenneth’s body had been denied for so long. He wanted to believe this was real, but he needed to be sure.
“What is it?” she asked, her hips making tiny movements against him. Her eyes were bright and reactive.
“Just checking.” He caressed a breast as he pushed at his waistband with his other hand.
“Condom,” she said.
Kenneth let a tiny surge of magick take over his hips. His pajamas disappeared. “Already done.”
She glanced down for confirmation and laughed. “Handy trick.”
“I’m full of them.”
Andrea stripped from her panties, maneuvering them from her sexy legs. The contact of her thighs against his nearly made him lose himself. The firelight caressed her chest, a visually pleasing display as she took his shaft and drew it to the opening of her sex.
“Why do I feel like we’ve been here before?” She held herself over him, not joining their bodies completely.
“We’ve been here in my dreams,” he answered, knowing without a doubt that he’d felt her before now. Her skin was familiar, the curve of her hip. It was as if he’d memorized it many times.
“Yes. Dreams.” She nodded. Her hands pressed against his chest. “We’ve done this before. I always felt so safe with you. Like now.”
She slowly accepted him into her body. The tight glide of her sex made him want to use his magick to take over the pace. Her soft moans kept him transfixed in place as he resisted the urge, giving her complete control.
Kenneth cupped her breasts. His fingers glided over hard nipples before he let his hands roam to her waist. The agonizingly measured way she eased onto him was enough to drive a man insane. He couldn’t take it. The need was too much. His hands trembled as he pulled and thrust his hips at the same time, drawing her fully to him.
“Oh,” she gasped, the sound so very feminine that it nearly caused him to prematurely climax.
A cry of pleasure escaped his lips. She began to rock, rotating her hips in tiny circles as he held her against him.
Oh, fuck, he wanted this.
Soon the small thrusts weren’t enough. He lifted and dropped her hips so she rode him. With each fall her breasts bounced. The sight caused him to force her down harder so that he could watch them move.
Sweat beaded her flesh and his hands slid. She took over the pace, setting her own hard rhythm. Each thrust was confident and she was not afraid of what she wanted from him. The driving pleasure began to fill the ache that had been growing inside him. Andrea was perfection. She was everything. In this moment, she was all his. The beauty of their joining was too much to resist and he was unable to stop the sudden explosion of his release.
Andrea gave a small cry, trembling and shaking over him as if his climax gave her permission to find her own.
Her fingers worked against him, the nails lightly scratching his flesh. She breathed hard. Her expression was caught between pleasure and pain.
Kenneth had not meant for this to happen. There had to be so many reasons why their having sex was a bad idea. But, for the life of him, he could not think of one.
How could perfection be wrong?
How could this moment be wrong?
Andrea fell onto the bed next to him, stretching her arms over her head with a contented moan before lying on her side. Her finger traced one of his scars.
“This was probably a mistake,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.
Kenneth took a deep breath, trying to still his racing heart. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Her finger stopped. She arched a brow as she gave him a pointed look. “I don’t regret it.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he repeated, completely entranced by her.
Andrea chuckled. “I’m happy to hear that.”
He reached to hold her cheek in his palm and begged the gods that this did not fade into a dream. It seemed impossible that a man could be so lucky as to have her looking at him the way she gazed at him now, so open and without regret.
“The way I see it,” she wagged her brows playfully, “the mistake has already been made. There is no going back. I think we should do it again. Only slower this time.”
At that, he grinned and rolled onto his side to face her. “Ya know, love, ya must be a mind reader because I was thinking that exact same thing.”
Chapter Nine
Andrea felt safer than she had in a long time. The darkness outside was kept at bay by the orange glow of the fireplace. Crackles from the burning wood were enough to drown out any noise that might have tried to invade from the night. Kenneth lay on his back with the kind of smile that said he was pleased with himself. Considering the fact that her entire body was numb with relaxation, he had a right to be pleased.
“I can’t get over it. Why does being with you feel so familiar?” Her head rested on his arm. She felt him flex beneath her at the question.
“I thought we decided our dreams have connected us.” He gave a small smile.
Andrea laughed. “Do you believe that you are the man of my dreams?”
“Aye.” He nodded.
Andrea lifted onto her side. “As strange as it sounds, I think you may be. When I showed up at your house yesterday and you were stuck as a statue, there was something familiar about your…”
“Essence?”
“Yes, your essence.” As funny as the word was, there was no other way to describe it. She’d known him on some level for the last two years, years she’d spent on the run from Mama Cecile. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “Yesterday I went into your past, we connected somehow and your past self bonded with me, and that anchored a thread that has linked us for the last two years. That sounds a little crazy when I say it out loud.”
“No crazier than everything else around here.” The arm she’d been resting on shifted and Kenneth caressed her shoulder, gliding his fingers everywhere h
e could reach.
They fell into a comfortable silence. Andrea studied her surroundings. The dark wood mantel and doors contrasted the lighter wall. Everything in the room seemed centered around the giant bed.
With the size of the flames in the fireplace, the room should have been unbearably hot, but the temperature stayed pleasant—not too hot, just a touch chilly. A portrait of Kenneth in a kilt hung over the fireplace. It had been one of the first things she saw when she’d entered the room. His hair had been longer and he carried a set of bagpipes. The background looked to be the inside of a castle. From the small peek she was afforded of his chest under the portrait’s white shirt, she detected the scars were missing.
“Tell me about these.” Andrea touched his scarred chest. “Did you have them done on purpose?”
“No. Body modification was never my thing,” he said.
“Who is responsible for giving them to you?” She leaned over to kiss his chest before continuing to trace. There was no mistaking the marks were deliberate. By the scar tissue, some of the cuts had been particularly deep.
“Geneva, Jewel’s ma, was the daughter of a mountain witch from West Virginia. I met her in a bar over a glass of enchanted moonshine—only I didn’t know about the enchanted part. The next thing I know I’m naked and she’s performing a ritual over my body. After the bloodletting, we…”
“Had sex,” Andrea prompted, thinking his modesty strange yet endearing. He hadn’t been a shy man in bed.
“Yes, sex.” Kenneth drew in a long breath before letting it out slowly. “Hours later, Geneva’s dead and I’m running through the forest with a newborn, trees are in flames, and the mountain witches are coming after me with enchanted pitchforks.”
“The witches killed her?”
“She killed herself, but not before she forced me to promise I’d protect our daughter from magickal threats. When the others came to take the baby, she threw herself into the fire she’d started. Nearly thirty years later, here we are.”
“That’s so—wait. Thirty years?” Andrea leaned away from him. A baby born hours after conception? Thirty-year-old toddler? That sounded like some kind of fairy tale, not real life.
Then again, she’d been two years into his past yesterday.
It was enough to give her a migraine if she tried to reason too hard.
“Geneva was a phoenix. She passed that power to Jewel. It was the only way she could end her life. I can’t blame her for wanting to do it. No person should have to carry that much pure magick inside of them. I think the responsibility must have caused her to go mad.”
Andrea didn’t speak. His expression saddened as he talked about it.
He placed his hand over hers on his chest. “These scars help me to be Jewel’s protector. It safeguards me from most of her magickal influence. My daughter is very powerful and immortal, but that immortality comes with a price. I have watched her die three times now only to be reborn. I will do whatever I can to make sure she does not start wishing for the same end as her mother.”
“That’s horrible. I’m sorry.” Andrea rolled onto her back and stared at the white-painted beams forming squares on the ceiling. “That poor girl. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to reset my timeline and have to go through childhood again.”
“She doesn’t remember her past lives. Perhaps that is a blessing,” Kenneth said. “It’s difficult to get a phoenix to adulthood. I haven’t even gotten her to last into her teens. Once there, she should be able to steady her powers, but one accident and I’m raising a baby again. I miss all my daughters. I want them back, just as I want Jewel as I have her now.”
Andrea shivered. She tugged the blankets out from underneath her and pulled them over her body. “I can see why you’re protective of her—not only because she’s your daughter, but as her parent, you mold what kind of person she will become. She’s fortunate to have you, but moreover, the world is fortunate you have her. I can’t imagine the devastation she’d do with the wrong mentors directing her moral compass. I can also see why your mother said you were housebound.”
Kenneth chuckled, though if she had to guess she would say the sound was more annoyed then amused. “Actually, my daughter is not keeping me here. I’m grounded. My ma discovered me trying to leave with Jewel to go into hiding. She and my aunt cast a spell trapping me inside. They claim it’s for my own good.”
“What happens if you try to leave?”
“Nothing fun.” He stood from the bed, pulled down the covers, and then crawled in next to her. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your family.”
“I—”
“Andrea Marie Breaux, you come out here at once.”
Andrea gasped at the sound of her grandmama’s voice and sat up. She pulled the covers to her chest in a panic. The tone was quiet but firm, as if Ruth didn’t want to yell.
“What is it?” Kenneth sat next to her.
“Didn’t you hear that?” Andrea asked.
Kenneth tilted his head. An inner light flashed in his eyes as he listened. He slowly shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Don’t you go haunting your grandmama,” Ruth’s voice continued. “You’re not too old for me to summon you back for a spanking.”
“Can I borrow that shirt now?” Andrea reached out her hand as she stared at the door. Her grandmother wasn’t a prude, far from it, but Andrea couldn’t help but feel like a child about to get into trouble.
A shirt materialized in his hand and he handed it to her. She scurried off the bed. Andrea tugged the shirt over her head, grateful that it was long enough to cover her thighs. As she pulled her hair from inside the neckline, she hurried toward the door.
She heard Kenneth moving behind her. Her hand trembled as she reached for the knob.
Tick, tick.
Andrea gasped and jerked her hand back. She stepped away, not opening it.
Kenneth brushed past her and was pulling open the door before she could find the voice to stop him.
Ruth stood there, in the same dress as before but no longer holding her glass of champagne. Andrea had to lean around Kenneth to see her.
“I don’t hear anything,” Kenneth said, not appearing to notice her grandmother.
“Look at you,” Ruth said. “Come closer.”
Even though this doorway faced a different direction than Malina’s room, the portal was the same as before, stretching into a hall from the past.
“Wait here.” Kenneth walked through Ruth and turned to go down the MacGregor hallway. He disappeared into her grandmother’s wall.
Andrea stared at Ruth.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ruth said.
“Did you find her?” Aunt Florence appeared next to Ruth and smiled as she looked at Andrea. “Oo, you turn out pretty. To tell you the truth, we weren’t so sure. Our Andrea is long-legged and gawky like a stork.” She lifted one leg off the ground and drew her hands to her sides like wings to mimic the bird for a few seconds before laughing and waving her hand in dismissal. The party had been going on for a while and both ladies had been drinking.
“Don’t tell her that,” Ruth scolded.
“What?” Florence gestured so that her hand encompassed Andrea. “She’s grown out of it.”
“But our Andrea is sleeping in the other room, and you don’t want her hearing you talk like that,” Ruth insisted.
“What’s happening?” Andrea didn’t dare pass the barrier. “How are you here? How are we talking?”
“Thank goodness you showed up tonight. Our Andrea is too young to hear about the kind of power you’re up against. We’re here to warn you,” Ruth said. “Cher, you’re in trouble.”
“What makes you think I’m in trouble?” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling a chill run up her spine. There was no way they could know about the future in which she now lived.
“The spirits spoke and we listened,” Florence said.
How many times had Andrea heard that in her
youth? It had been her aunt’s excuse for nearly everything she wanted them to do. It was her version of “because I said so.”
“Clean your room. The spirits spoke and we must listen.”
“Go to the store for me. I’m out of milk. The spirits spoke and we must listen.”
“Take this paintbrush and give the fence a fresh coat. The spirits spoke and we must listen.”
“And what did they say?” Andrea asked.
“Darkness is coming for you.” Florence shared a look with Ruth. “What? It’s true.”
“You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” Ruth scolded. “Cher, listen to your grandmama now. I don’t know what it is, but you caught the eye of a powerful force. If it hasn’t already, it will attach itself to you soon. And when it comes, it will come fierce.”
“What kind of force?” Andrea thought of Mama Cecile and Jewel. Both were powerful. Both were attached to her. “Do you mean a spirit?”
“All we know is that it is strong magick and it will alter you forever. You better watch yourself,” Florence warned. “This kind of magick will gobble you up and ask for seconds.”
“Here.” Ruth reached behind her neck and unfastened her necklace. The medallion was made out of an old coin and supposedly blessed by a powerful priestess a few generations back. “Take this.”
Ruth didn’t give Andrea a choice as she tried to reach across the barrier to hand it to her. Ruth’s hand disappeared, not making the journey across. She pulled back, frowning as she still held the necklace.
Andrea reached to take the necklace but her hand disappeared and she jerked it back. She could not cross the time barrier. Apparently, she was not meant to travel into this past.
“It’s probably best you can’t give it to me,” Andrea said. “You’ll need it.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know the future,” Ruth said.
“Forget that,” Florence interrupted. “Tell me all about the future. Am I still alive?”
Andrea gave a small, hesitant nod to affirm that she was. “You both are, but you need to quit smoking sooner. We know about your smokin’ spot behind the shed.”
Magick and Mischief (Warlocks MacGregor Book 7) Page 8
