It was sweltering today in D.C... The summer heat had hit fast and furious, sending most of Washington’s population into air-conditioned buildings. Those brave souls who tempted fate or those who had no choice looked as though they melted with each step they took.
Sebastian slid into the smooth leather seat and turned the key. In seconds the car was filled with cool air and the sound of Mozart.
He drove out of the parking lot with a feeling of relief and headed home. With no traffic to speak of he would make it there in no time. He would take a dip in the pool, enjoy a glass of Malbec, and read.
He shook his head as he came to a stop sign. Hell and damnation, how had he taken this turn? He looked at the cross streets in front of him and realized he was in Alisande’s neighborhood. How had he gotten there? He had had no intentions of going to see her, or had he? Had his subconscious directed him there?
She had been on his mind since the fund-raiser... three days. He did have new information that he could confront her with — why not visit her?
“Why not?” He shrugged and took the turn to the Wyrrd estate.
The housekeeper once again did not look in the least bit surprised to see him. She directed him to follow her, and he did, though she stopped at the French doors that led out to the indoor pool area and waved him on alone.
A variety of pool furniture all white filled the glass enclosed area, and cushions in solid white touched with threads of gold added the barest of color. A plethora of flowers all in stark white bloom crowded containers surrounding the room, drooped from hanging baskets and sprouted profusely from large white ceramic planters that hugged the corners of the pool.
The sheer boldness of pure white caught the eye and refused to let go until Sebastian noticed the rippling wave in the clear pool. He watched Alisande clear the surface, rise up and out of the water, and slowly climb the steps. Water beaded, dripped and slid over every seductive curve of her siren’s body as she headed straight for him.
She was a sight to behold. She wore a white string bikini and strings were exactly what held the transparent white material together. The top barely contained her ample breasts, her rosy nipples poking hard at the wet material. The bottom scarcely covered the honey-blond triangle between her legs, and a slim piece of nothing slipped up her taut backside.
She didn’t wear a swimsuit. She wore a piece of seduction.
She stopped only inches away from him and he had a difficult time keeping his eyes from straying over her luscious body.
“I’m so glad you stopped by. It’s hot out there today. Why don’t you join me in the pool?”
He was about to say that he didn’t have a swimsuit, but wisely held his tongue, knowing her response would be that he didn’t need one.
“Perhaps another day,” he said to her disappointment.
She didn’t concede so easily. “The water is so cool and refreshing.”
“I can see that,” he said and glanced down at her hard nipples.
Her smile was naughty and she reached out, grabbing his hand. “Come join me, you won’t be disappointed.”
Her hand was cool and warm all at the same time, and the strange combination added to her sensually wet flesh and grew him hard.
He fought to keep control. “Perhaps, Ali, I would disappoint you.”
“Why don’t we find out?” She drifted closer; her bold green eyes caught his dark ones. She ran her hand faintly down his arm and casually, while keeping her eyes focused on his, moved his arm to rest around her slim waist.
The light touch of his arm on her wet skin turned him rock hard. And all he could think about was to taste, lick, and kiss every inch of her wet skin. He felt a slight tremor... was it his body or hers? It didn’t matter it was obvious from the sexually-charged air that they lusted for each other.
He mumbled an inaudible string of expletives beneath his breath and yanked her wet, near naked body up against him. “You play a dangerous game.”
“I play to win,” she challenged and nipped playfully at his chin sending him over the edge into madness.
Chapter Eight
She was wet, so damn wet, and pressed so intimately against him that he could barely think straight, not that he wanted to. All he wanted was to devour her, and his possessive kiss proved it.
His hand remained tight on her waist and his lips firm on hers, feeding and flaming the obsessive lust racing through them. Her arms slipped around his neck and she moved suggestively against him, sending a shot of pleasure so strong to his groin that he thought he would embarrass himself right in front of her.
He was so damn hard that he ached unmercifully. All he could think about was throwing her down on the white chaise, ripping the bit of seduction she wore off her, and taking her fast and hard until she screamed out in climax, and to hell with the consequences.
The uncharacteristic thought startled him back to the reality of the situation and with great reluctance and difficulty he untangled himself from around her.
She protested with a petulant whimper as he attempted to pull his lips away, and he found himself returning to appease her soft cries of disappointment.
“Who are you?” Alisande Wyrrd?” he whispered, nipping along her lust-filled lips.
“I’m the witch who aches for you.” She moved her body slowly against his, and the jolt of desire struck him like a bolt of lightning, blowing all circuits.
He jumped back, pushing her away from him with a gentle shove.
She smiled and crooked her finger at him, her long white nail hypnotic in its insistent summons.
He shook his head, as if attempting to shake sense into himself. He prided himself on self-control. Self-discipline had helped him to achieve success. It had helped him survive difficult missions. Self-control was his to command and demand at will and no one could deprive him of his achievement.
No one that was, but this witch of a woman.
Without a word or acknowledgment to Alisande, he turned and walked away. He didn’t hesitate or rush wanting her to know that he was uncertain or needed to get away from her. He wanted her to understand that his departure was his choice and that he was in control.
She didn’t need to know that that control hung barely by a thread.
Ali stood staring in disbelief at the French doors he had not bothered to close behind him.
Aunt Sydney appeared like a breath of fresh air, a white terry robe in hand. She held it up for Alisande, and she gratefully slipped into its warmth.
She felt chilled, not by the pool water still damp on her skin, but from Sebastian’s hasty exit.
“I warned you,” Aunt Sydney said, pouring them each a cup of raspberry tea from the white china pot on the poolside table.
Ali settled into the chaise, still staring at the door, as if expecting, wanting, willing Sebastian to return to her.
“It’s no use, my dear,” Sydney said, “he may be a mere mortal, but he is a powerful one.”
Ali nodded and took the white teacup her aunt offered her, grateful for the hot brew. “You’re right. I never considered a mortal’s powers. I always felt them inadequate, lacking and ignorant of their own skills.”
Aunt Sydney took the chair beside her and enjoyed an occasional sip of her tea as they spoke. “Sebastian is rare in that he has perfected his abilities. You’ve breached his defenses. You’ve caused him to lose control, and to him that’s unacceptable. You must learn to tread lightly and give him some rein, or you will lose him.”
Tears filled Ali’s eyes, and her aunt studied her niece’s strange reaction with surprise.
“This mortal means much to you,” Sydney said, placing her hand over Ali’s trembling one.
Ali nodded. “More than I expected. He is so much a man.”
Sydney smiled. “He does not let you control and yet he does not control. He is a rare man.”
“I fear I will lose him. My lack of self-control appalls me and yet—” Ali shook her head and wiped a tear from her cheek
.
“You want him,” her aunt said candidly.
Ali hugged her aunt’s hand. “I need him.”
“Why?”
“Is this a lesson?” Ali asked with a laugh and wiped away another tear.
“Yes, a very significant lesson.”
Ali sighed. She wasn’t interested in a lesson, she only knew that at the moment she felt empty as though part of her had been ripped away, and the hollow feeling only served to make her more aware of her situation and reflect on the unexpected and profound decision she had made upon meeting Sebastian Wainwright.
“Life is a lesson,” her aunt informed.
“I know,” Ali sighed repeating what she had been taught years ago. “It is whether we pay attention to the lesson that matters or not. You either learn or you don’t. The decision is always yours.”
“Not always,” her aunt said sternly. “Think about why you need him. Think about what drove him out of here and learn what it is you were meant to learn or —”
Aunt Sydney stood ready to take her leave.
“Or what?” Ali asked annoyed that her aunt forever proved to be right and that if she didn’t listen and learn she would fail, and somehow failure in this situation just wasn’t acceptable.
“Or forever wonder,” her aunt said with a smile and walked out of the room leaving Ali to sort out her troubled thoughts.
o0o
Sebastian finished his cold shower, slipped into a pair of khaki shorts, and dropped into the beige couch in the large room off his kitchen. He loved to cook and have family and friends over but detested being separated from his guests while preparing meals. So when he had the house remodeled, and with thoughts of a wife and children in mind, he had it turned into one big room. He hoped one day to watch his children play while preparing a family meal.
Presently, he was alone. The soft neutral tones highlighted by earthy colors and accented with items collected from all over the world while on his various travels gave the room not only an Old World quality but a welcoming appeal and he often settled here at night to relax.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling any too settled. The cold shower had helped ease his ache but hadn’t helped to relieve his stressful emotions. He could not recall a time when he was so close to the point of losing control, throwing caution to the wind, and to hell with the consequences.
For a moment, a brief flickering moment, he was tempted to do just that with Ali, lose total control, take what he so desperately wanted, and what she so obviously offered and to hell with the outcome.
Thank heaven for his sensible side, that practical part of him that maintained his senses and protected him from disaster. He always listened to it, and it never failed to assist him in even the most crucial times.
Then why did he feel so empty?
Why did he feel leaving Ali was a mistake?
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since getting home. He barely knew the woman. Did they even possess any compatible interests? They had never held a normal conversation. Their only talk had been about her urgency to have sex with him.
And damn if he didn’t want to give her what she wanted.
He had had his share of brief encounters. He never cared for them; they seemed only to relieve a need for both parties. An awkward smile and a quick good-bye, and it was over, and no more than a memory to recall. A lesson learned.
With most of his lessons well behind him he was now looking for more, needing more than a brief affair. He had been involved in two long-term relationships that didn’t work out. In one he wasn’t ready to commit and in the other she wasn’t ready.
Now he found himself looking for more in a woman than first encounters provided. Similar interests were important or a woman with new interests that would appeal and enhance his own pursuits.
He longed to share childhood memories, watch favorite movies or chow down a full packed pizza with a pitcher of cold beer. He smiled at the crazy thought.
He couldn’t forget walking around some of the monuments, a favorite pastime of his and the perfect way to shed the added calories of the pizza.
“You’re looking to fall in love, you idiot,” he reprimanded.
And Alisande Wyrrd wasn’t exactly falling in love potential and yet he felt this insatiable desire for her. How did he get this equation to add up?
Lust definitely had a lot to do with it, and yet in her own unique, wacky way he found her interesting. How many women would claim to be a witch to seduce a man? She certainly had caught his attention and managed to hold it, driving him near crazy in the process.
He chuckled. He had never been so alert, so on his toes, so to speak, since his government days, and the rush of adrenaline sure felt good.
Sebastian stood, turning on the copper lamp on the side table. Rain had fallen along with the night and fat raindrops splattered against the sliding-glass doors.
He walked into the kitchen area and began gathering everything he needed for a Greek salad. He yearned for a full-packed pizza and beer, but that meal was meant to be shared over good conversation.
While he sliced and diced like a professional, he wondered if Ali had any other interests besides her obsession with witchcraft. What had driven her to think herself a witch? And how involved was she with the craft?
He recalled the books he had picked up earlier at the bookstore, and after arranging his salad, slices of crusty bread and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc on the kitchen table, he grabbed the books from his study and sat down to enjoy his meal and read.
o0o
Ali watched the rain from the front porch. It was an incessant downpour that more than likely would finally break the sweltering temperatures of the last few days.
She recalled fondly how when she was little she would run out in the rain and dance barefoot in the puddles, splashing with delight. She would raise her tiny hands to the dark sky and imitate the grown-ups in an attempt to cast a mighty spell.
Her mother warned her that spells were not cast at random or for fun or openly, especially in those early years. She could cause harm even to the innocent if she was not careful. It had been a dark time, one of secrets and whispers and hiding in fear of mortals and their ignorance.
But light soon dawned on the dark and with it freedom. Secrets were still maintained, but witches no longer lived in fear of their lives. Ignorance had turned to curiosity and their craft now thrived amongst the mortals, though it remained misunderstood.
She smiled, wondering what Sebastian was like as a child and if he would have been her friend and kept her secrets of dancing frogs and flying kittens. She loved to play with the animals and they loved to play with her. The tiny creatures were her favorite friends during her childhood.
She sighed and plopped down in the wooden rocker, her feet tucked beneath her white ankle-length skirt. She tugged down the long sleeves of the waist-length white cotton sweater she wore and hugged her arms.
This project to find a lover had started out so simply. How had it become so complicated?
It had, when she had made a sudden and life-altering decision. Once she herself had not expected to make but at the time seemed a wise one.
Had she been wrong? Had her desires been too strong for this mortal male? Had she underestimated his abilities and his own desires?
It was to be an affair, plain and simple. She would enjoy it and so would he. A whirlwind of pleasure and passion and yet—
She shook her head. What had she done?
Her aunt’s question popped into her thoughts.
Why?
Why did Ali feel she needed Sebastian? A good question and one she was sure she had the answer to but was afraid to admit.
It had started with the restoration of her powers. But it had metamorphosed into much more than that, and Ali wasn’t certain how to handle the magnitude of this unexpected development. She had placed herself in a situation of her own making, expecting everything to go smoothly. She had failed to consider the powe
rs of a stubborn, pragmatic, and much too logical mortal male.
And then there was the surmounting problem of her finding it completely impossible to keep her hands off him, and he fought their insatiable attraction at every turn, yet desired her as much as she did him. Why fight it?
Always why?
Why this emptiness? Why this need to know more about him? Why this need to share?
She had family and centuries of friends to share laughter and tears with, and yet she found herself longing to talk with Sebastian about her youth, her dreams, and her hopes for the future, but would he understand? Would he accept her for who she truly was? A three-hundred-year old witch.
She had few mortal friends who were aware of her true origin. And their families had been connected with the Wyrrds in some way or another through the years.
Truth be told, when she planned this sexual escapade, she had expected Sebastian to find her story amusing, her enchanting, and then nature would take its natural course. She had never considered him rejecting her. Her powers must be at their lowest ebb if she couldn’t charm a mortal male into her bed.
But then she had never taken a mortal male to her bed— and not many men of magic, for that matter. She had broken many hearts, but she had always only allowed intimacy to go so far.
Why?
She often wondered herself. Many a man proved interesting, charming, and sincere, but none enthralled or challenged her.
Not until Sebastian.
Chapter Nine
The doorbell rang twice before Sebastian heard it. He shook his head. He had read half of the interesting and informative book on the history of witches last night, and after Saturday errands he had plopped down in the chair to finish off the rest of the book. He was on the last chapter... the persecution of witches. The material disturbed him. Like most people he had a minimal amount of knowledge concerning witchcraft. And of course the movies had filled many a head with nonsense. He was shocked to learn the brutal facts and wondered just how many innocent people were wrongly persecuted because of ignorance.
The Wedding Spell Page 6