“No. There are few references to other Wyrrds. There are a few copies of pages of family Bibles where births and deaths were recorded, but Alisande Wyrrd herself seemed to just vanish.”
“No record of death?”
Pierce shook his head. “None we can find, but you must consider the time, Sebastian. Records weren’t top priority back then; survival was.”
“If you don’t mind; I would like you to keep at it.”
“Wouldn’t think of stopping. This whole Wyrrd business has me fascinated. When you think you have something that connects one with the other, you wind up hitting a dead end. I must admit I have never run up against a search that presents so many twists and turns that take you nowhere.”
“Crazy,” Sebastian said, thinking out loud.
“It certainly is,” Pierce agreed.
“Keep me updated with any developments,” Sebastian instructed, walking Pierce to the door.
“Will do,” he said, and after a solid shake of hands Sebastian closed the door behind him.
He walked over to the row of windows and stared out at the quiet surroundings. Most people had already left for home and the capital was settling in for a peaceful summer night.
He would leave in a few minutes and join Ali at his place. They would share the evening meal together and make love, maybe twice. And still he would not mention a word about her being a witch.
Why?
Perhaps he was afraid of the answer after all.
Chapter Twenty-two
The Chinese food that Ali had set out on the table grew cold as they grew hot tumbling together naked on the floor of the room off the kitchen room.
Sebastian no sooner walked in the door and took one look at her in the sheer white ankle-length dress that seductively silhouetted her naked body and all was lost. In no time they were both rolling naked on the carpeted floor before the cold fireplace that ran the full length of the back wall.
She pinned him to the floor, stretching her body over his and delivering sweet agonizing slow kisses to every part of his body. When she finished her erotic perusal of his anatomy, she moved over him in an attempt to take further control of their lovemaking.
He surprised her and she squealed with delight when he grabbed her about the waist and in a flash, though with a gentle forcefulness, slipped her beneath him.
“My turn,” he announced with a grin that warned her it was payback time.
She laughed and threw her hands out in feigned supplication.
He showed her no mercy. He started with his tongue; slow and wicked he stroked her intimately, enjoying her sweet passage and teaching her the meaning of complete surrender. And just when she was about to release the last vestige of sanity to him, he entered her.
He kneeled between her legs and tenderly stroked her thighs as he spread them farther apart and slipped his arms under her knees lifting her up to met him.
His entrance was swift and furious, and that was how he took her. With an unbridled passion that fired both their senses.
Ali felt herself spin out of control with each determined thrust. She had never felt so alive, never felt so connected and never so much in love.
She moaned, she cried, she pleaded, his name repeatedly falling from her lips, and he in turn responded. He touched, he taunted, and he toppled them both over the edge into the realm of magic where they both spun like swirling tops out of control until colliding in a climatic explosion.
He collapsed on top of her, trying in vain to ease his weight but failing miserably. His thunderous climax had completely depleted him, and he couldn’t move a muscle.
She hugged him to her as if he weighed no more than a feather. She squeezed him, kissed him, and finished with a sigh of absolute delight in his ear.
Then she announced in all seriousness. “I’m starving.”
He raised his head, shaking it, and laughed. “You are adorably impossible.”
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pushed at this chest. “Thank you, but I really need nourishment.”
Her energy had been running extremely high especially since she hadn’t really performed any major magical feats. Soon she would have no choice, but she didn’t want him around to witness her powers. At least not until she was sure he believed and was sure he could handle the results of such knowledge.
He moved off her and stood, holding out his hand to her. She took it and yanked her up into his arms.
“Is that why you bought so much food?” he asked with a nod to the table in the kitchen where four different meals, barbecued ribs, and three different fried rice sat waiting.
She smiled, patted his chest, and pulled away in search of her dress. “I knew we would be famished after we made love.”
She slipped the sheer dress over her head, popping her arms though the sleeveless holes and gathering her hair together to twist up and pin to the top of her head.
“You wore that tempting piece of nothing on purpose,” he accused and reached for a pair of blue knit shorts that just so happened to on the nearby chair.
She wagged a finger in his face as she rushed past him. “If you’re accusing me of planning this little scene of seduction, you’re absolutely right.”
With that she grabbed for a rib and settled herself cross-legged in the chair at the table.
He joined her, stealing a rib and pouring them each a glass of iced tea.
“You didn’t plan on eating first,” he said.
She laughed gaily and licked her sticky, tasty fingers. “Oh, I planned on eating.”
He wagged his finger in her face this time. “You’re incorrigible.”
She playfully nipped at his finger. “Would you want me any other way?”
Sebastian didn’t need to think, reason or debate. “Never.”
He wanted her just the way she was; sexy, fun-loving, intelligent, and utterly selfish in her pursuit of him. If that meant she was crazy, then perhaps it was time he tried a little insanity.
“Before I forget,” she said, spooning a hefty portion of chicken fried rice on her plate, “Aunt Sydney would like you to join us for lunch tomorrow. She wants you to meet Dagon. It is her way of apologizing for assisting me in trapping you.”
“I would love to, though I’ve already met Dagon.” He reached for the chicken fried rice.
She grabbed him. “What do you mean, you met Dagon?”
He glanced down at her hand grasping his wrist with more strength than he thought her capable of. She eased her hand off him and waited for him to respond.
Sebastian added several spoonfuls of rice to his plate and a heaping portion of Hunan chicken before giving her an answer. “He stopped by my office today.”
“Dagon?” she asked, prepared to do him harm when she got a hold of him.
“He cares deeply for you.”
“He is a cherished and dear friend, as I explained to you.”
Sebastian was honest in his opinion of him. “He’s arrogant, but I like him.”
She didn’t hesitate in giving her own opinion. “Probably because you two are so similar.”
The fork remained midway to his mouth. “You think I’m arrogant?”
Ali placed her hand over his and guided his fork to his mouth. “You’re a nice sort of arrogance, the kind that is confident and in control.”
After finishing the mouthful of food, he replied. “Good way of putting it.”
“Well, I couldn’t very well say you two are both obstinate and demanding,” she said with a cheerful smile.
“I am not,” he protested with a grin that told her he thought otherwise.
“See,” she said, poking him in the arm. “You know yourself; a rare quality in a man.”
“I’m a rare man,” he said with pride.
She leaned over and kissed him soundly. “I wouldn’t have you otherwise.”
He dropped his fork to his plate and shook his head, releasing a sigh. “You want me again? Can’t get enough of me, can you? Alway
s touching me. Always demanding.”
Ali laughed. She loved this playful side of him. She placed her own fork down on her plate and ran a teasing hand up his leg to intimately slip over him. “I always want you.”
Damn.
He had meant to tease, not titillate, though her stroking hand felt awfully good. He reached down and grabbed her wrist.
“First sustenance, then pleasure.”
She sighed with regret. “I suppose you’re right, and I’m still hungry.”
“Then eat,” he ordered, pushing the containers toward her.
“Only if you promise me that I can choose my own dessert,” she said with a lascivious lick of her lips.
“You,”—he poked her pert nose—“are bad.”
She sighed with disappointment. “And here I was looking forward to vanilla ice cream with a dash of whipped cream on top.”
“I think we can accommodate that request.”
She slowly licked off the sweet-and-sour sauce that had dripped on her finger. She leaned over and just as Sebastian tool a forkful in his mouth she whispered, “I want the ice cream intimately served on you with a dash of whipped cream on your...”
He almost choked on his food, not to mention that he grew hard at an alarming rate. When he was finally able to speak, he sent a threatening look directly at her.
She smiled. “Can you oblige me?’
His hand shot forward, grabbing her by the back of the neck and yanked her to him. “I can oblige anything you want, witch.” And he kissed her until her toes curled.
o0o
Later that night, when they lay wrapped in each other’s arms after satisfying Ali’s dessert preference, Sebastian requested that she tell him about witches.
“You really want to know?” she asked, skeptical about his intentions.
“Yes, I do,” he answered sincerely. “I have read some books, but I feel there is much that is unknown and misconstrued about their origin and name.”
“You are perceptive.”
He disagreed. “I am eager to learn and learn the truth, not what some scholar hypothesizes the truth to be, but rather fact.”
“Sound reasoning.”
“You’ve got it,” he said, nibbling at her neck with his lips.
She shivered as she always did when his lips played with her. It didn’t matter where he touched, stroked, teased, she responded.
“Reasoning is reasoning,” he debated.
“Reasoning is only what you have been taught to believe as logical.”
“Logic can be substantiated by fact,” he argued.
“Facts as you have been programmed to accept it.”
The conversation stimulated his senses, and he pulled himself up in bed, taking her along with him to rest comfortably against a mound of pillows.
“I am not programmed,” he said, interested in clarifying and understanding what she meant. “I read, study, and reach an objective conclusion. I find critical thinking of the utmost necessity.”
“But still you choose the path of least resistance,” she insisted, needing him to open his eyes to the impossible, the magical.
“I choose logic. I choose what my intelligence helps me to understand and believe.”
“And what can easily be explained.”
He nodded. “All things can be explained.”
“Even witches?”
He chose his words carefully and with knowledge he had recently acquired. “I believe that witches existed, perhaps to some degree still do. But I believe that witches were people endowed with paranormal abilities in a time when fear and conformity were the guiding rule and anyone who stepped out of bounds suffered.”
He came so close to the truth that he frightened Alisande. “Go on,” she encouraged, impressed with his intelligence.
“They were persecuted for an ability they didn’t understand but accepted because it was so much a part of them. And I believe that they believed their ability was a divine gift. Unfortunately those who were narrow-minded and ruled by the dictates of conventional society chose to label them as evil.”
Ali locked her fingers with his squeezing tightly. He would have protected her back then in those dark days when ignorance brought unnecessary suffering to the innocent even if it had meant his life. He was a man strong in his convictions and honor, and if it were possible she loved him even more now than she did a few moments before.
“But they survived,” she said.
“Though they lost some of their autonomy along the way; it mixed with the present day illusion of witches, causing them to be viewed subjectively and often times with erroneous humor.”
“Leaving you to believe what?” she asked cautiously.
He chose his words with great care, hoping to dispel her obvious concern. “That witches exist to some extent in today’s society.”
She rested her head on his bare chest, closing her eyes. He was being so considerate of her feelings and so dishonest with his own. He would believe in witches if she wished him to, but did he really believe? She would not have a true answer to that question until he saw the full results of her powers. And she wasn’t quite ready for a demonstration. She wanted to enjoy him just awhile longer, linger in their love and passion, and build memories, in case that was all she would have left of him.
He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face up to look in her eyes. “You are my witch,” he whispered.
“Forever and always?” she asked, tears threatening to spill.
“For all eternity and then some,” he assured her and brushed a faint kiss over her lips.
“That’s a long time,” she warned.
“Not long enough,” he answered firmly and stole a kiss that stole her breath, and that in turn stole her heart.
As they slid down along the pillows to once again lose themselves in magical love, she wondered with a nagging worry what he would do when she demonstrated for him the full power of her heritage.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ali fidgeted in her chair while impatiently waiting for Sebastian and Dagon to arrive at the restaurant.
“Sit still or you will wrinkle yourself,” Sydney scolded, patting her niece’s arm.
Ali sighed and quieted her nervous movements.
“Your excess energy needs to be freed,” her aunt said sympathetically. “A good cast or feat would serve you well and calm some of that energy that yearns to be unleashed. Why have you restrained it?”
“In all honesty, I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Things are going wonderfully between Sebastian and me, and I suppose I don’t wish to take the chance and ruin our blossoming relationship.”
“He has accepted you being a witch, then?”
Admitting the truth to herself was difficult; speaking of it with her aunt was even more difficult. She had, after all, warned her of the consequences. “Not exactly.”
Sydney passed no judgment or comment; she simply waited for an explanation.
Ali fiddled with the silver spoon beside the fine china plate. With her powers restored, she and her aunt could converse entirely through their thoughts, and yet her aunt obviously wished to hear her openly recognizing the problem at hand.
“You are forcing me to—”
“Look before you leap,” her aunt finished.
Ali smiled and rested her nervous hands in her lap.
Sydney spoke attempting to ease her niece’s concern. “Unknowingly, Sebastian has bought you time. I assume he has agreed to believe in your outrageous claim of being a witch to satisfy you. In so doing he has prevented the spell from going any further. But,” her aunt warned softly, “once he learns of your true nature and fails to accept who you are, the spell must be fulfilled.”
Ali sighed heavily, the weight of her problem suddenly burdensome. “I have thought of numerous ways in which to gently introduce him to my heritage, and yet none seem appropriate to my current situation.”
Sydney spoke candidly. “There is no easy or
simple way to demonstrate your powers to Sebastian. He is a man who would find good, solid reason for any modest feat you performed. Only a startling revelation would open his eyes to the truth.”
“Or frighten him away.”
“There is that possibility.”
“A possibility I must eventually face,” Ali conceded.
Sydney offered hope. “Do not underestimate your mortal. He loves you more strongly than you will ever know and love is the key that will seal this spell forever.”
Ali remained silent seeing Dagon approach and her aunt reached beneath the table to Ali’s lap to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“My two favorite women,” Dagon said with a generous smile and kissed each one of them on the cheek.
“What’s the problem?” Sydney asked immediately after he took a seat opposite Ali.
“Whatever makes you—”
“Don’t insult me, Dagon. I know you too well and your concern is palpable,” Sydney said sternly.
Dagon looked to Ali for assistance and she nodded. “I agree with our aunt. I can feel your discomfort.”
Dagon mumbled beneath his breath and signaled the waiter. “A double Scotch.”
Both women glared at him.
“I should have known you both would sense my troubled thoughts. Especially you, brat,” he said to Ali. “With your powers returned, your energy is fine tuned.”
“Stop changing the subject and tell us what ails you,” Sydney instructed like a parent impatient with her child.
The waiter delivered the Scotch, and Dagon took a drink before answering. “I must make a trip to my estate in Scotland. There seems to be a problem with the staff.”
Sydney looked at him oddly. “Your staff has been with you for ages. What possibly could be wrong?”
Dagon took another swallow. “A new staff member who had come highly recommended seems to be creating havoc.”
“Havoc?” Ali repeated. “By highly recommended I assume you mean through our own kind? And if so, how could the person create havoc?”
“Through our own kind is right,” he informed her, “but it appears that this person isn’t as highly qualified as I was led to believe.”
The Wedding Spell Page 18