Moonlight, Monsters & Magic

by Linda G. Hill

  He was much easier to disrobe, wearing only pants since he’d left his shirt back on the roof. She grinned as she slid his pants down.

  He thrusted a little at her and they laughed, breaking the lust-filled tension for a moment.

  Liah palmed his erection and he groaned as she stroked him swiftly. Her grin at the pleasing effect she had on him made him pull her close, kiss her deeply. They moved in fumbled steps toward his bedroom, leaving their clothes behind.

  His hand found her thick brown hair and he pulled at the root, just enough to move her head back, to gain access to her neck. He attacked her sweet flesh, leaving the marks of their passion. His mouth traveled down to her breast where he licked her taut nipple. Her soft noises of pleasure spurred him forward.

  Laying her on the bed, he took the moment to really look at her. Her breasts were small but had a nice weight, just as he liked them, and her legs splayed out perfectly, ready for him. Liah’s long legs, bent at the knee, gave just a glimpse of her sex, already aroused and waiting to climax.

  “You tease.” She rolled her eyes, lifting her hips to him.

  “Am I not to enjoy watching your body reacting to me?”

  “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  With warm fingers, he lightly caressed between her legs, dipping inside of her, listening to her moan as she arched her back, trying to get closer to him. Her eyes fluttered closed, trusting him. Eóghan’s curved fingers tickled with steady motions before he splayed them to create more friction. Using his other hand to pinch and pull at her clit, he watched her body writhe. Her skin broke out in goosebumps as her breath hitched. He didn’t waste any time; he bent to taste her. Eóghan chuckled as she gasped in pleasure, clutching his short hair, holding him to her.

  Each touch sent shocks up her entire body. He added one finger inside and then another, scissoring them.

  He watched her come undone, her body writhing before him in waves as her inner walls desperately clutched at his fingers. Eóghan couldn’t wait to feel that on his cock.

  “What are you thinking of, something erotic?”

  Liah laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Sky sex.”

  “What?” Eóghan chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet I could hold you and fuck you as I fly through the sky. Is that something you want?”

  She moaned.

  “With my cock deep inside you, every flap and thrust of my wings is a push inside you. I bet you would lock that pussy so tight onto my cock—especially when we dive down …” He grunted, palmed his cock and ran his hand over it as his eyes closed. Liah watched him stroke himself in awe. “Would that be something you’d want to try?”

  “Yeah,” Liah answered breathlessly.

  He shuddered when she ran her hands over his tattoos.

  Aligning his body with hers, the fantasy all but forgotten, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer so she could feel his weight.

  In a sharp instant he slid inside her. He stilled when Liah gasped and clutched him. Her eyes shut. Her body rippled with white hot fire.

  Her warmth—the deep, electric pulses of their connection, their bonding—hit him hard. It took everything in him to keep her pinned below him, to keep from thrashing over her like a carnal animal. He’d save that for later.

  “Feel that?” He had to know if she felt the intensity too.

  “Yes.” Liah grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to move: he did so, slowly. The ebb and flow of their linked bodies finally found a place of pleasure; the tension from moments ago dissipated.

  “Liah.” He pushed and pulled as she moved under him, building back up the pressure until their nerves were so close to the surface, they could snap at any moment. Each touch was both pleasure and pain.

  His body writhed over hers in impossibly quick gyrations. His hips moved, rutted, twisted and pumped. Strong hands gripped her breast and her hip, his mouth kissed and pulled and nipped at her lips.

  It didn’t take long before he felt her succumb to her own pleasure. He reached his own euphoric release.

  They lay panting, bodies spent.

  She grinned as his tattooed wings pulled away from his skin and transformed into the feathered wings. They wrapped around her like a cocoon.

  “Castaliah, the muses say you inspire poetry, but only I know that you are the poetry.”

  “Mmm, you charm me.” Liah beamed. “Just out of curiosity, though … What would have happened if you hadn’t saved me and Fiachra had caught me?”

  “You really want to know?” Eóghan shuddered. She nodded, cuddling closer to his side.

  “He probably would’ve turned you into a tree and used you for wood.”

  Liah gasped. “Can he do that?”

  “He can, and he does. But that is a whole other story.”

  ~*The End*~

  For my husband Ron, our kids, my mom, and everyone who still believes there’s magic in this world.” ~ EA

  ~~ * * * ~~

  About the Author

  Everleigh Allen writes creative stories with a mysterious, mythical, magical, and racy edge. Her tales bring her readers into worlds that she wants to visit herself.

  She lives in Texas with her husband, three of her four children, and a zoo of animals. She is also a sculptor and artist in multiple mediums. A writer of fiction that has been featured online for years, the MOONLIGHT, MONSTERS & MAGIC anthology is Everleigh's first published work.

  Follow Everleigh here:

  Facebook Profile: AuthorEverleighAllen

  Facebook Author Page: EverleighAllenAuthor

  HEART OF STONE

  Emmaline Warden

  As a lady’s maid, Annie craves stability and security. But she knows her destiny is greater than her reality.

  When Theo approaches her, claiming to be her soulmate from a past life, she is left questioning and afraid. Can she accept that there is a world larger than her own guiding her existence? Will she take the leap of faith and believe in the magic that made Theo appear?

  (m/f; heat level: smoking)

  HEART OF STONE

  Chapter One

  “Pull harder, Annie, for goodness sake,” her mistress scolded. “The top barely fits!”

  “Yes, my lady,” she mumbled, tempering the temptation to place her foot in her mistress’s back as she pulled. It didn’t help that the woman, already thin as a reed, insisted upon being placed into garments that were several sizes too small. The corset, inlaid with metal wires instead of whalebone, groaned in protest as she pulled with all her strength to tighten the contraption.

  The Countess of Debin gasped, and Annie took the moment to pull the laces as tight as she could before tying them. The countess walked to the mirror and examined her appearance. Her svelte figure was pulled in even tighter, her waist barely the length of Annie’s hand.

  “Shall we try the bodice now, my lady?” she asked, shaking her hands to relieve the pain.

  “Of course, we should,” the countess replied. “Confound it, Annie, I wonder at your usefulness. If I had not checked your references, I would think you had fabricated them!”

  Annie quickly pinned the bodice on and stepped back to check her work.

  “You look lovely, my lady,” she said in a mild tone as she picked up a paper fan.

  “I know,” the countess snapped, ripping the fan out of Annie’s hand. “I plan to stay for the entire ball. Be prepared to help me undress, and do not make me wait for you again, or I will terminate your position.” The woman strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Annie stared at the door, then made a crude gesture toward the portal that the woman had exited. The countess was a monster to work for. Her demands bordered upon insane. But she paid well, and Annie had food in her belly and a roof over her head. As long as she kept her mouth shut—her most problematic trait—and her head down, she would survive the countess and eventually, hopefully, make her way into a household where her mistress wasn’t an ogre.

  As she tidied up the r
oom, Annie glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was only nine o’clock, and the ball would continue long into the morning hours. She had no desire to sit in the room awaiting her mistress.

  The countess had been invited to a house party in Derbyshire, at the estate of the Viscount of Crenmore. No fewer than one hundred people were to attend the gathering; adding to that number were the guest’s individual servants, as well as the viscount’s staff. In the past few days, the house had been filled to the brim, the noise and press of bodies had become stifling. Exiting the countess’s rooms, Annie headed to her own, grabbed her shawl, and took the servants stairs down to the kitchens. She slipped out into the private garden by the side of the house.

  She had discovered the garden, which was tucked away on the side of the estate, while looking for the housekeeper the night before. Herbs and vegetables grew in the quiet oasis, and honeysuckle and rosemary filled the air with their sweet scents. Walking purposefully, she rounded the bed of carrots, and stopped suddenly as her eyes took in the view. An arbor, surrounded by a ceiling of peppermint, created a haven for the marble statue that resided there.

  As she walked toward it, her eyes took in the figure’s form. A scarcely-there tunic outlined strong shoulders. The artist had designed the man perfectly: his tapered waist led to thick thighs, the muscles outlined in the cold stone. And while the figure gave her a greater appreciation for the male form, it was his face that caught her notice. His eyes looked desperate, beseeching those who looked upon him. His mouth was opened as if crying out, and those solid arms were reaching, searching for something unobtainable. Her soul ached as she looked upon him, a kindred emotion filling her, as she had long felt something in kind.

  Annie sidled up to the figure, running her fingers along his arm, tracing the corded strength the artist had portrayed. Breathing in the peppermint, she leaned against the marble, closing her eyes and pretending the man was real. That he was hers. Protecting her, comforting her. Stealing her away from this life of servitude. His lips would be lush as he kissed her, stroking her face with his long fingers, while his tongue deepened the kiss. Annie sighed aloud. Her imagination would always get the best of her.

  A loud commotion in the kitchen startled her, making her bump against the statue. It began to sway, and before she could put her hands upon it to stop the motion, it leaned heavily toward the stone wall and crashed against the brick and mortar. Gasping, she rounded the statue and attempted to put it to rights, but the marble was heavy and the angle awkward. She stepped back and looked at the man, now reaching toward the sky, a slight fissure running through the long curls of his hair.

  Tears filled her eyes, but fear quickly took its place. If the viscount found out that she had broken the statue, she would be sacked for sure. Gathering up her shawl, she turned and ran toward the kitchen and away from the dreams of her rescuer, her true love, not noticing the crack’s lengthening fingers as they sliced through the marble, nor hearing the pieces begin to fall.

  Chapter Two

  Theoxenos dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Dust surrounded him, suffocating him as his lungs pleaded to draw in another breath. Resting his head on the cold earth, his body shook from disuse. His mind reeled, anxious to begin searching. To discover where he was, and what had become of Andreanna.

  He stumbled to his feet, his body shivering in the cool breeze of the night. The sparse tunic he wore did little to conceal his nakedness. Looking around, he found himself surrounded by vegetation, a paved walkway not more than a few meters from him. The area was surrounded by a large wall, yet it was less oppressive than the marble he had been trapped in. He looked up, startled, at the clearing of a throat.

  A man shrouded in black stood on the pathway, staring at him. Fire danced in his eyes as he took in the rubble that surrounded Theo.

  “My Lord,” Theo said, bowing slightly to the man in black.

  “Theoxenos, so good to see you awake after such a long time,” the man exclaimed with a dazzling smile.

  Theo swallowed his hatred, before speaking. “Not that I am not pleased to see you, my Lord, but why are you here? Your curse has ended, Andreanna has found me and set me free. Your terms have been met.”

  “Ah, Theo, if only it were that simple. Setting you free was but a small part of the curse.”

  “You said I would be released by my true love. After seven thousand years, I think my punishment has been enough,” he growled.

  The man opened his hand. A small flame sat upon his palm. He began to roll it between his fingers, creating a spiral of light. “Alas, eternal deprivation of your soulmate is not punishment enough for me. In one day’s time, you shall disappear from this Earth altogether and live in the hellfire and damnation you deserve,” he said, the flame enhancing the eerie shine of his eyes.

  “No!”

  “Regrettably, my lady queen requested there be a way to avoid that fate, and you know how much she adores a happy ending. Per her demands, you have one day to convince this woman not only of who you are, but to also consummate your love.”

  “Consummate it. With a kiss?”

  “Not just a kiss. With the physical act, Theo.”

  “I have to …” He stopped, overwhelmed.

  “You have to fuck her, Theo. I hate to be crass, but that is what is required to solidify the bargain.”

  “I can make her remember.”

  “Yes, but can you make her love you again, and in such a short time? For that is what is required for you to remain here with her,” the man replied, smiling. “You saw how long it took me to convince my lady queen to love me in return. You will fail at this, Theoxenos, and you will languish in the hellfire you so clearly deserve.”

  “We shall see. I have love on my side.”

  The man in black rolled his eyes. “You sound like my wife.” He nodded at Theo, his smile gruesome. “I shall see you soon,” he said, before he disappeared.

  Theo clenched his fists, screaming into the night sky. Andreanna was here, somewhere, and now he had one day to find her. Looking at the ground, he walked to the path and followed it toward the light he could see from the garden. Stepping silently, he slowly made his way to the door of the house. Noises from within caused him to curse. How could he find her, especially dressed thusly? The door to the home opened, and light spilled across the path. Theo pushed his body deeper into the brush, praying that he would not be spotted.

  “He did not give you clothes?” a voice spoke into the darkness. “What sort of bastard did I marry? Come along Theo, let us get you dressed.”

  Theo stepped out into the light and took in the figure that filled the doorway. The woman before him had a riot of red hair that was barely contained by a white cap. Her clothing was common, but the body beneath was lush, curves barely disguised by the rough linen and apron she wore. Her face was perfection in every aspect of the word.

  “My lady,” Theo said, falling to his knees.

  “Oh, do get up Theo, we do not have much time,” she said, irritably.

  “I hate to be a bother, my lady, but is it not this against the rules?”

  “Knowing my husband, he has already planned to cheat his way through this. I highly doubt providing clothing and entry into the home violates even half of what he might plan to do. Now do come on, we need to get you dressed.”

  Theo nodded to the woman and followed her inside what turned out to be a kitchen. Strange apparatuses filled the room. Walking toward a large box that sat against a wall, he stared at the pots and pans that lined it, steam pouring from their tops. “What is this contraption?” he asked, amazed.

  The woman sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Theo, my dear, we do not have time for you to be in awe over everything.” She snapped her fingers. “One less thing to worry about.”

  “What did you just do?”

  “You tell me,” she replied, pointing to the box. “What is that?”

  “It is a stove,” he answered, then paused. “My God.”

  �
�Not your God, just one of them,” she said with a smile. She snapped her fingers again, and he looked down and saw that his tunic was gone. In its place, he wore black tailored jacket and trousers. The clothes felt restricting compared to his tunic. He raked his hands through his hair and found it shortened and pushed back from his face with some sort of oil.

  “What is all this?”

  “This is who you are now. Your name is Theo. You are a valet to one of the guests here. It will be a sort of disguise while you woo Annie,” the woman replied, glancing over his outfit.

  “Annie?”

  “Andreanna is called Annie now. She is a lady’s maid to the Countess of Debin. This is the fifth cycle her soul has seen.”

  “This is all too much,” Theo muttered, rubbing at his forehead in hopes of dissipating the ache that had taken up residence there.

  “Is she not worth it then?” the woman asked. “Is your life not worth it? Eternal damnation while she roams the Earth, endlessly searching for you?”

  He sighed, recognizing the truth of her words. He had to find Andreanna; had to remind her of who she was. After so many centuries apart, they deserved a happy ending.

  Looking again at the woman, he straightened his jacket and took a deep breath. “Where do I start?”

  Chapter Three

  Annie awoke to a quiet knock at her door. Considering that her mistress had finally poured herself into bed mere hours ago, she had no idea who it could be. Rising from the bed, she wrapped her shawl around her thin linen nightgown and opened the door a small crack. Through the space she had made, she peered out to see the outline of a large male. She slammed the door.