The Tanglewood Witches

by Genevieve Jack

  He smiled, relieved that he hadn’t stoked her anger with his eavesdropping. She actually seemed more distraught that he might be displeased with her for telling her sisters about him.

  “I am happy you told them about me.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Then they won’t be surprised when I seek you out again.”

  “Have you come to guard me again?” She giggled.

  “It’s my solemn duty.” He held out his hand to her. “Will you walk with me? I love the orchard at this time of day. The apples look like stars.”

  “I’d love to.”

  He led her between the trees, and hand in hand, they fell into step.

  “I think I have an answer to your problem.” Medea fidgeted with the skirt of her dress as if whatever she had to tell him made her nervous.

  Tavyss forced his expression to remain impassive. Whatever solution she planned to offer might be simple, given her limited view of the world, but he planned to be contemplative and respect her idea anyway. Whatever it was, he’d consider it.

  “What if you could send a message to Paragon without physically going there?”

  “Do you mean by bird or… Hermes?” He chuckled at that. The messenger god would likely not take up this cause. His dislike of Hera was well known.

  “My family and I are different than others in this garden.” Medea glanced down at her feet.

  Her fingers continued to fidget, and her forehead wrinkled with what could only be worry. Now he was beyond curious. What could make her so anxious?

  “Yes. I’ve noticed. It’s what drew me to you. When I saw you in the field, you were so different I thought you didn’t belong.”

  Her petal-pink tongue licked along her bottom lip, almost driving him to distraction. “We can do magic. Strong magic like a witch.”

  “How is it you know the magic of witches?” he asked tentatively.

  She did not answer but released his hand to tangle her fingers in front of her hips. “I believe, if you’ll let me, that I can project you to your sister on the astral plane. Your consciousness will be there, but you will remain safely here.”

  “Astral projection?” His brows sank low until he thought he might give himself a headache from the tension in his forehead. She was serious. “Have you done this before?”

  “Sort of.” Her eyes rolled toward the heavens. “Yes. Although only with myself, not carrying another person. I’m sure that I am capable of it though.”

  He studied her features. “You’re serious?”

  “As a stone.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Where did you learn this magic?” he demanded.

  Her lips flattened into a thin line. “My people are born with it.” If there was more to it, she didn’t elaborate.

  As he searched her face, he came to the conclusion that, although he believed her, he’d have to experience this magic to deduce its true potency. Truly, until he did, he was afraid to examine her claims too closely.

  She slipped her hand into his and continued walking along the center of the orchard.

  It wasn’t long before he’d made up his mind. “If you can do it, I would like to try.”

  Chapter Seven

  When Tavyss smiled, it was as if the sun had risen and shone warm upon her face. Medea led him to a mossy patch between the trees. He trusted her. To put his problem into her hands as he had showed a respect for her that she hadn’t fully expected. She’d braced herself for a full interrogation about her powers and their origins, but he hadn’t pursued it. A strange thought wormed its way into her mind that perhaps he didn’t want to know.

  “Sit here.” She gestured toward a patch of moss, then sat cross-legged across from him. Reaching into her pocket, she removed the gem, held it up to her eye, and turned it.

  “What is that stone? It looks like a diamond.” He reached for it.

  Laughing, she pulled it out of his reach and guided his hand back down to his leg.

  “I need it to complete this spell. Now, do you wish to talk about a stone or do this magic?”

  “The magic.” He slanted a smile in her direction. “For now.”

  Gently, she released his hand and brought the stone to her eye again. “Ah, there it is.” She noted the spell, repeating its steps in her head until she knew them by heart, then slipped the gem back into her pocket. Reaching into her sleeve, she drew her wand.

  Tavyss eyed the wand skeptically. “Will this hurt, Medea?”

  “No. I will not hurt you.” Touching his cheek, she met his amber eyes. She hoped she was telling the truth. She’d never performed this spell before. It shouldn’t hurt, but how could she be sure?

  Wrapping his hand around hers, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Then I am ready when you are.”

  Her skin burned where his lips had touched. Oh, how she longed to know what it would feel like for that kiss to have been on her mouth. But she couldn’t think about that now because she needed to make sure that Tavyss was around long enough to someday, maybe, kiss. She leaned back, focused on him, on the land of his youth, which she’d studied for hours by candlelight the night before, and spoke the incantation.

  “Ekdiókontai,” she cried, circling the wand above her head before pointing it straight at him.

  A pulse of energy poured out of her and washed over him like a wind. His eyes went blank. A blue halo surrounded his body. She felt him go, felt his soul cast out toward Paragon, led by his thoughts, his memories. The connection between them tightened like a drawn rope until she had to lean back against the invisible force.

  And then she waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  The sun arced overhead and began to descend. Sweat bloomed on her upper lip. Ready or not, she’d have to pull Tavyss back soon or she’d pass out from overusing her power. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did, and she was afraid to find out.

  Thankfully, the pull between them slackened and she pitched forward, reeling in the magical thread that held them together. She gasped as he landed back inside his body and collapsed into her arms. His weight was too much to bear, and she rolled onto her back, his body pinning her to the moss.

  “Tavyss? Tavyss, I can’t breathe.”

  He blinked at her. Finally he seemed to notice where he was and rolled off her and onto his back with a groan. She sat up slowly and leaned over him. He didn’t move.

  “Are you all right? Did it work?” she asked. “You were gone for hours.”

  His expression gave nothing away as his eyes roved, then locked onto hers. With a noticeable amount of effort, he propped himself on his elbows. Unexpectedly, his hand shot out and hooked behind her neck.

  “Oh—!” Her sound of surprise was cut short when his lips met hers. He kissed her with a white-hot passion she had never experienced, never even dreamed of.

  His lips burned against her own, a wicked and wonderful fire that she drank in. She’d read about kissing, but all the books in the world couldn’t have prepared her for this. His mouth was sultry and wet, like a firm peach warmed in the sun, and she tasted him, welcoming his tongue against her own. She breathed in his smoky-wood scent and gave herself over to the flutter of energy that rose within her.

  The things that kiss did to her! As exhausted as she was from performing the spell, her heart galloped in wild fits. The world sharpened as if all the sensations she’d ever experienced were concentrated into the place where their mouths joined. Her stomach flitted like birds flushed from the trees. Lower still, the place between her thighs ached with need. She was falling, dropping from the sky toward him. Everything vibrated and whooshed inside her until she was left breathless and her head spun. When he finally broke the kiss, she was left gasping.

  “It worked, Medea,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Your spell worked.”

  Chapter Eight

  As Tavyss held Medea in his arms, somewhere in the back of his mind he understood that she was too powerful to belong in th
e garden. He’d believed her when she said she was born there. The acrid scent of a lie would be impossible for her to hide from his dragon senses. But she didn’t belong there. Of that he was sure.

  His latest theory was that a god or goddess had planted her there, perhaps as a way to exact revenge against Hera. The affairs of the gods were notoriously tumultuous, and Hera was not well liked among her kind. The goddess held a reputation for bitterness and a vengeful nature. One of Zeus’s many past lovers might have proudly done the deed.

  But Tavyss couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. However Medea had arrived, the power she’d displayed today, conducting his spirit to Paragon, marked her as a witch—a very powerful one. He was aware of no other creature who could wield such magic other than a god. He’d go so far as to say that she was as strong as any witch he’d ever known.

  That should have concerned him. If Hera found out a witch was living in her garden, she’d see her as a threat and expect Tavyss to eliminate her. Which was precisely why he hadn’t asked Medea what she was. He cared too much about her. Hell, his inner dragon wanted her. Plus what he didn’t know for certain, he had no obligation to tell Hera.

  Medea’s magic had been a godsend. Once he’d reached Paragon, he’d appeared to his sister Eleanor in her chambers, and although she’d immediately attempted to take off his head, her claws had passed right through him. That got her attention. He’d conveyed Hera’s message slowly and carefully, along with a threat that if the golden grimoire could not be found, there would be repercussions from the gods. Eleanor had assumed that his astral projection was courtesy of Hera and thus agreed to assign her best people to finding the grimoire.

  All that and now he was back in Medea’s arms. The deed was done. He might as well have returned to the bosom of heaven itself.

  “I’ve never been kissed before.” Medea brushed her fingertips lightly across her lips.

  He reached for her and ran his fingers along the edge of her raven-dark hair. She reminded him of a warm night, her skin as luminescent as the stars and her hair flowing like the celestial sky around her shoulders.

  “I find myself drawn to you, Medea.” He swallowed. “Drawn to you like I haven’t been drawn to anyone in… ever. I think about you always.”

  Her lips parted, her breath hitching in her throat. “I think about you also.”

  He reached for her again. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she offered up her mouth to him. This time the kiss moved deeper. He slid her onto his lap, burying his hands in the dark silk at the back of her head.

  “What’s that?” She drew back.

  He heard it now too, and his cheeks heated with awareness at the deep rumble in his chest. “My mating trill. It seems my inner dragon finds you irresistible.”

  “I like it, although it’s hard to believe that the massive beast I saw outside the gate is somehow inside you.” She rested her ear against his chest, her hot breath warming his nipple through his tunic. Even if he’d wanted to hide his true feelings for her, he couldn’t have suppressed the resulting purr. His body’s response to her was like the wagging tail of a dog. Instinctual. Immediate. She sent fire through his veins.

  He gathered her hair in his hands and brushed his lips against her ear. “I am the dragon. In some ways, my beast is more me than this form. That part of me though tends to think in more simple terms. When my inner dragon is hungry, he eats, when thirsty, he drinks, and when he wants a woman, wants her to be his, forever….”

  “Forever?”

  “My feelings for you run deep. Maybe deeper than you are ready to hear.”

  Her cheeks pinked. Twisting in his lap, she locked her eyes on his, bottomless pits of blue under heavy lids. “I think I feel what your dragon wants.”

  How could she not? He was as hard as iron under her. His hand drifted along her back and around her bottom. Encouraged by her soft sound of contentment, he rubbed languid circles there, grazing the tips of his fingers along the space between her thighs.

  “Have you cast a spell on me, Medea? I find myself enthralled by you. More deeply so than ever in my years.”

  Her lips caressed his, and he felt her smile against his teeth. “You’ve caught me. I’ve used all my witchy wiles to ensnare you, and now you are mine.”

  Mine. His dragon coiled and stretched inside his skin at the word. But Tavyss’s logical mind snagged on a different one. Witchy. Did Medea know what she was? Did she realize she was a witch?

  He opened his mouth to ask her about it but was cut off by the deep sound of a man’s voice calling her name. She scrambled off him. “I must go.”

  “Why? Who is that?”

  “My father,” she said. “It’s late. I haven’t done my chores.” She started toward the sound, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “Tomorrow? Here again?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away.”

  “Then I will watch for you all day,” he whispered sincerely.

  “Tomorrow.” She nodded. Her fingers slipped from his and she was gone.

  Tavyss returned to his cottage, plucked the peacock feather from its vase, and waited as it glowed to life between his fingers. The sooner he told Hera he’d done as she asked, the sooner she would leave him alone to his own pursuits. Bright light blinded him, and then she was there, as strange and irritating as ever.

  “Hera.” He returned the feather to the vase, then bowed to the goddess.

  “Why do you call me here, dragon?”

  “Only to tell you that I did as you commanded. My sister Eleanor has agreed to task the Obsidian Guard with finding your book. If the golden grimoire is anywhere in the five kingdoms, she will locate it.”

  “You please me, dragon.” She swaggered closer, her gaze drifting toward his mouth. “Come closer. Allow me to reward you for your efforts.”

  She leaned in as if to kiss him, but he pulled away. It wasn’t a conscious decision. If he’d been thinking at all, he would have held extremely still, as a mouse caught in the predatory gaze of a cat, and hoped she lost interest. As it was, his retreat only incited her and she glared at him, the muscles around her mouth tightening.

  “Why do you recoil from me?”

  Desperate to concoct a story she’d believe, he stared into the fire. “I am worthy of no reward, goddess. My only desire is to serve you.”

  “Oh, but I have many desires, and there are many ways you can serve me.” Her fingers traced a line from his ear to the tip of his chin.

  “I regret I am unable to… aid you in that way.”

  She drew her hand back and crossed her arms in a huff. “Why not? Do you not find me comely?”

  “I do, it’s just—”

  “Then what is it?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “I am mated,” he blurted.

  Her blue eyes turned cold as ice, and rage danced in the corners of her expression.

  “I can’t control it. A mated dragon is unable to… perform with anyone other than their mate. The bond is too strong.”

  “I’m familiar with the customs of your kind. What I am unfamiliar with is this mate you speak of. You’ve never mentioned her before. You were not mated when I brought you here.” She raised a brow.

  He closed his eyes and chided himself for entertaining Hera’s advances when he’d first arrived. They’d never gone so far as to become lovers, but there had been unspoken promises in their flirtation, possessiveness in her touch. He licked his lips. She would know if he lied.

  “It happened when I returned to Paragon.” Not a lie. His dragon had voiced his claim on Medea at the time she’d projected his ghost to the Obsidian Palace.

  “Who is she?” the goddess asked through clenched teeth.

  He sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “No one of importance. Not a goddess. Not a princess. Just a girl who happened upon a dragon who cannot forget her.”

  Hera grunted in disgust. “Typical,” she murmured. The goddess rolled her eyes. �
��Bring me the book as soon as you have it. Come directly to me, do you understand?”

  He swallowed. “Yes. If my siblings find it, I will bring it to you.”

  The goddess glowed brighter and bared her teeth. “She’d better find it, dragon. Do not misunderstand me. I’m tasking you with this, and I will not be appeased until I have it.”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened to the point of pain. “Yes, goddess.”

  Chapter Nine

  “What was it like?”

  Medea lowered her chin and gave Isis a secret smile.

  Both of her sisters were huddled with her at the base of the tanglewood tree, desperate for information. They’d witnessed the kiss from behind the cover of a large tree in the apple grove. She should have known they would. There was absolutely nothing more exciting in any of their lives as a man in their midst. She couldn’t deny them the information they sought so ardently.

  “The kiss was warm and soft.” Her cheeks heated as she remembered it. “But his body was hard. Hard everywhere, like the muscles of your calves. And his skin was hot like he’d been standing by a fire. That’s because he’s a dragon. They run hotter than the rest of us.”

  “What about his…?” Circe raised an eyebrow.

  “Circe!” Isis elbowed her in the arm.

  “More than adequate,” Medea said with an impish grin. “Everything we’ve read about as far as I could tell. I mean, we didn’t…”

  “We know.” Circe sighed and gave her a wicked wink. “Although how you managed to stop, I can’t imagine. You must have been as curious as we are.”

  “There was so much more than what I expected. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sweat broke out across my skin like when we were children playing chase. Something else, a connection. I felt it snap into place between us, almost like we were meant for each other. I think he’s my destiny.”

  Isis stifled a laugh. “What do you mean, your destiny?”