“Mortal land?” Morton asked.
A knowing smile etched his lips, thinking about the swan who would steal his heart. “Yes.”
“VIRGIN-IA,” Morton repeated. “Is that where mortal virgins come from, my Lord?”
Sirius turned to see Morton’s ears twitch. Morton had confided that his cravings for warm, wet pussy had nearly cost him his life. Now, whenever aroused, he sprouted phallus-shaped goat ears that had women running for their lives; a ghastly fix to his overactive libido. Sirius grunted, quirking his upper lip, noticing the sudden change.
“I'll be brewing something special for those.” Sirius laughed and blew a frigid breath over the warlock, dissipating the erections.
Turning back to the parchment, his fingertips caressing each word, Sirius whispered in wonderment, “A prophecy of hope—the love of a mortal will save a kingdom.”
And my little swan, he thought. I will see you in your dreams.
Chapter Four
VIRGINIA
Sirius appeared with Morton through a vapory mist. His sidekick had a Gothic top hat pulled down over his ears.
Glittering dewdrops kissed the morning sun, transforming the hollow into a celestial fairyland. The magnificent shagbark hickory stood a hundred feet tall, clothed in vibrant mustard-yellow leaves. Peeling strips of deep brown bark ran vertically up the trunk, giving the tree that ominous shaggy look. Being late fall, the once-green, moist husks were now hard and black, split open to expose the inner nut, ready for harvesting.
“How do you want to do this?” Morton asked, his eyes riveted on the beautiful women beneath the majestic tree.
“You know my passion for a certain ballet, Morton,” Sirius answered. “Meghan Alexandria is destined to be my Odette.”
“Ahh, yes, the lovely brunette who moves with the supple grace of a swan,” he noted. “And you, are hoping to be her Prince Siegfried.”
Releasing a sigh of regret, Sirius replied, “More the sorcerer, for now.”
“Sir, your magic charmed Tchaikovsky into giving us that private debut of Swan Lake at the Bolshoi in Moscow. Van Rothbart was the real prick. Your heart is too pure, even for a dangerous warlock. She'll be yours— with a much happier ending.” Morton offered his prince a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“What spell have you spun to get her interested?” Morton asked as if in afterthought.
“Witches’ Broom Disease.”
Quirking his upper lip, perhaps forgetting their voices could not heard by mortal ears, Morton whispered, “Very original, your Highness.”
Sirius tapped an index finger to his temple. “The brain, Morton, is a brilliant network of powerful neurons hidden inside one's hard-ass skull. Unless, of course, something or someone fucks it up.”
Morton rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Why can't we gather the nuts ourselves? It seems to me that would be the easiest solution.”
“Seriously, Morton, you need a refresher course in warlock etiquette.”
“It has been awhile, sir. The book of Olimar, correct?” Sirius answered with a threatening growl, so Morton shut his mouth.
“Rule of Law,” Sirius added quietly. “We must have a mortal's permission.”
“Yes, of course, sir. So, we'll romance, titillate, and seduce the Keepers of the infamous Carya ovata,” Morton answered with anticipation.
Sirius caught Meghan Alexandria's dismay as her sister pointed to the enormous cluster of debris hanging high between the branches of the massive tree. Witches’ Broom Disease, while not fatal to trees, was a nasty pathogen that could do considerable damage. Clumps of twigs and gnarly branches, often mistaken for a nest to the naked eye, gave Sirius the advantage. He was rather proud of the artful design, beautiful in a hauntingly wicked way. With a flick of his finger, the clump had molded into broom shape; a perfect limb acted as a handle. Hickory oil from an enchanted tree in a mortal world would reverse the spell cast upon his coven. But without a mortal's permission, all would be lost.
Her honey-sweet voice floated on the warm currents of air. Meghan moved gracefully around her sister, her timeless beauty reminiscent of a prima ballerina performing center stage. In his mind, he had pictured her as his beloved Odette.
She stood statuesque and slender, her dark brunette hair streaked red-gold in the morning sunlight, igniting a yearning in Sirius to feel its fire.
Lifting his head, he caught her scent—delicious pheromones, more potent than any magical spell.
Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would be on the receiving end of all her passion and desire.
~~ * * * ~~
Temptation getting the best of him, and fighting the urge to bleat, Morton moved within a hairsbreadth of the pretty blond sister and gazed into her incredible eyes. Cerulean blue irises rimmed in black, pupils so dark he could see his own reflection. Eyes to die for. It was here a warlock had the power to steal the secrets of a mortal.
“I'll be meeting you soon, little butterfly,” he whispered, releasing a warm, caressing breath over her, watching several long strands of soft palomino hair flutter whimsically over her lips. He moved to brush them aside, but Sirius grabbed his wrist.
“Be careful, Ibex,” Sirius warned. His grip tightened. “The time is not right. I have a plan, so grab your cock and step back.”
“Please make it soon, my Lord,” Morton begged helplessly. “I feel her power, and I am leashing mine.”
His ears burned, causing his head to shake violently. He lost the top hat.
“Goddamn … ffuuccking whore of a wiittcch!”
Sirius folded his arms across his chest.
“I warned everyone to stay away from that bog. Hesper the Horrible fucks snakes,” Sirius reminded him. “You sucked her big tits and blond pussy, and look where it got you, goat-man.”
“Yes, sir. I know that now, sir,” came his contrite reply. “My Lord, I could use a little help here. If you would just blow ...”
Sirius blew in his right ear, and his frosty breath exited the left. “Just as I suspected: neuron meltdown.”
Hands massaging both ears, Morton bowed respectfully, showing gratitude.
Chapter Five
LATER THAT DAY …
Four severed goliath bullfrog legs swam aimlessly in a glass container filled with pond water. Morton felt nauseous knowing he had to pluck them out and place them in the blood-red mixture boiling in a black iron pot.
“Disgusting.” He thumped the goggles onto his face and scratched his itchy nose. “I'm allergic to all things amphibious,” he said, bitching to Sirius. “You're the fucking chef, why do I have to do this?”
Sirius grunted. “Watch your tongue, goat-man. Consider it a punishment for jacking off your ears earlier.”
“Blondes really do know how to have more fun,” Morton purred as his free hand stroked the remnants of a scraggly goat beard.
Sirius threw in two handfuls of European truffles. Morton's eyes widened, seeing the dark golf-ball-sized fungi being added to the bubbling brew.
“Truffles— Tell me those are nnooott ttrruuffles!” he bleated in a high-pitched whine.
Sirius picked up another handful, shoving them under Morton's nose. He turned his head, but Sirius grabbed his chin.
“Take a good long whiff, Ibex.”
Obedient to his prince, Morton sniffed, then gagged.
“Truffles mimic male-pig sex hormones,” Sirius said. “It's the reason why sows are used historically all over Europe to find them. Fortunately for you, you're a goat.” He laughed and threw in another handful. “Perfect.”
Morton blanched, covering his mouth. Quickly changing the subject, he said, “Pruitt Alexandria—my little butterfly wet dream—all-natural blond too.”
Sirius glared at him. Setting down the wooden ladle, he lifted Morton off the floor and shook him with such force, the goggles were propelled into the boiling pot.
“Stay away from her,” Sirius stated sharply. “You do not have my permission to enter her dreams. If you
disobey my orders again, you will forever remain a goat. These women hold the key to reversing the curse on All Hallows’ Eve—the fucking curse, Morton!” He set Morton back on the floor.
“I have searched tirelessly for a way to undo this travesty imposed upon all of us by your selfish behavior, and now that we have found the missing element, your cock-hound actions will end. Now!”
Sirius released him and left the room.
Unable to stand, Morton collapsed on the floor. Play a fool, be the fool. The words screamed inside his brain. Shaken to his soul, he curled into a fetal position, quaking uncontrollably from his own stupidity. Another lesson learned.
~~ * * * ~~
Before leaving to see Meghan Alexandria, Sirius handed Morton a silver flask. “Drink it.”
“Damn the torpedoes!” He grimaced before gulping down the goliath frog brew that would wipe out his sexual impulses. The sickening taste of truffles assaulted his taste buds. He burped, then farted. It was the most disgusting tasting shit he’d ever consumed, especially after Sirius had thrown in two dried goat penises.
Within seconds, Morton transformed back into his original handsome self.
“How do I look your, Highness?”
Sirius stroked his bearded chin, and a smile flickered. “Truffles and dried goat cocks—works every time.” He chuckled and handed him a mirror.
“By the gods!” Morton wheezed. “Your powerful magic is simply amazing!” He examined his reflection and grinned, then bowed in gratitude once more.
“Remember, Ibex, it's a temporary fix until we break this fucking curse. Now, go to the library and safely charm the sexy little blonde into returning home,” Sirius instructed. “I want both sisters present.”
Morton burped again and disappeared.
Chapter Six
Meghan was unsettled after returning to the house from the hollow. She couldn't stop thinking about the dream she’d had last night. In it, her grandfather, Poppy, was laughing beneath Lady Enchantment with a man Meg didn't recognize. When she moved closer, the stranger raised his incredible silver-blue eyes and smiled at her. Meg touched his face and slowly traced her fingers over his classic jaw.
It had to have been the sangria.
“I definitely need to get laid,” she groaned, wondering if there really was a handsome Prince Charming, waiting to carry her away. God, I hope so.
She was in the work shed at the side of their house, almost finished staining the oak frame of the flower box, when she caught sight of a sleek black Harley turning off the road and into their driveway. Meg frowned, baffled as to why she hadn't heard the roar of the massive machine.
She stepped out of the work shed and waited to see who was hidden beneath the mysterious helmet. Anticipation growing, her breath caught sharply when the huge figure placed his black-leather-clad legs down on the ground.
His thick body moved like molten tar, smooth and smoking hot. The intricate painted dragon on his helmet was daunting. A shiver of emotion ran through her body, despite the warm October afternoon air.
The onyx-colored leather clung like second skin to the most amazing body she had ever laid eyes on. Holy shit, she thought as her gaze caught the gentle sway of the soft leather fringe on his chaps—sexy-hot and over-the-top fucking beautiful. He removed the helmet and placed it on the handlebar, then he turned, giving her a full-frontal view.
“Miss Alexandria?”
He moved closer and she fought for breath. Meg was rendered speechless by his beauty and those silver-blue eyes.
“Meghan Alexandria, right?”
“Y—yes,” she stammered, stunned. The attractive force of his presence held her hostage, sent tingles through her body.
“I'm Sirius Lamborghini,” he said. “I had the honor of meeting your sister, and I'm sure you have some questions to ask me about Lady Enchantment.”
“The tree whisperer.” It was a statement, not a question.
Sirius laughed. The deep, rich baritone caressed her like a lover's touch. Her eyes moved to his mouth, and the sudden urge to taste him there flashed through her.
Meghan was no stranger to men—there had been several—but none had seductive power like this man. All she could think about was licking his naked body. She was drowning in lust.
~~ * * * ~~
It pleased him knowing just how much she wanted him. Concentrating, he deepened the spell.
“Meghan,” he whispered.
“Hmm?”
Her fingers ghosted over the downy texture of his beard. It matched the thick midnight-black hair on his head.
“So incredibly handsome,” she stated. “Are you real, or just a figment of my imagination?”
Her nearness triggered a long-forgotten memory of how it felt to be buried deep inside a beautiful woman. On impulse, Sirius covered her hand with his, to allow her need to saturate his loneliness.
“I'm real, sweetheart.”
Sirius smelled the desire pooling between her thighs. She pressed seductively against his hard body, resting her cheek against his broad chest.
“You feel amazing.”
Bewitching her with mystical persuasion was dangerous. Mentally seducing her, a prelude of his plans for her. As keeper of the hickory, her permission to harvest the nuts and extract the precious oil had to be his priority.
He snapped his fingers and broke the seductive trance.
“What!? Oh my God!” She pivoted and ran back into the work shed. Sirius followed, close on her heels.
She grabbed a garden spade; a poor excuse for a weapon, but right handy.
“Stay away from me!” she yelled, her voice quivering.
He wet his lips, seeing the outline of her nipples beneath her naughty ghost t-shirt.
NO HICKORY HOLLOW WEENIES FOR ME was printed boldly across her chest. It made him grin.
“Meghan,” he said, his tone level between casual and sultry.
“Don't you dare say my name!” she warned, swinging the spade. “Not—not like that!”
A quick flick of his wrist had her motionless. He moved closer and ran a finger over her worried brow.
“Fire and Ice,” he murmured, his hand stroking her hair. “You're more beautiful than the dream.”
He muttered the incantation.
“Lady Enchantment is where we'll be,
Secrets revealed beneath the tree.
Hear the words from long ago,
Listen carefully, and then you'll know.”
He released the garden tool from her hands and used his magic to teleport them to the valley where Lady Enchantment awaited.
~~ * * * ~~
Morton studied the pretty librarian sitting behind the front desk. He focused on her lips, which at the moment were wrapped around the tip of a pen. Once free of the curse, he would make damned sure she wrapped those same luscious lips around his long, aching cock. With the brew quelling his arousal, Morton's mind feasted on the hot little banquet of blondness. He indulged in imagining her mouth on his, her nipples beneath his palms, her warm, creamy cunt, him fucking her from behind …
He cleared his throat and spoke. “I'm looking for sexy, hot romances. A collection of sorts, all under one cover.”
Startled, Pruitt looked up. “W—Where did you come from?”
“I just floated in,” Morton answered, charming her with a dynamite smile, his whiskey colored eyes capturing her baby blues. Pruitt blinked.
“About that book?”
Pruitt stood abruptly and guided him to the romance section. His eyes were nailed to her gorgeous ass all the while.
“Here it is,” she said, pointing.
“Shamrocks, Shillelaghs and Shenanigans. A brand new hot … Irish anthology, on bookshelves … everywhere,” she said breathlessly, touching her perspiring forehead.
Morton reached for the book, moving in behind her. Pressing his body close, he caged her in with his big arms. He hummed the incantation, low and sexy.
“Close your eyes and come with me
,
Learn the secrets of the tree.
Mortal sisters must permit,
Warlocks presence to submit.”
With his words, she leaned back in submission. Morton ran his hands over her full breasts, teasing her pert little nipples with his thumbs. Fucking delicious, thrummed his last thought before they disappeared into a vaporous mist.
Chapter Seven
“Meghan,” Sirius whispered, his warm breath against her temple.
She studied him. “You're not a tree whisperer, are you?”
“No.” His silver-blue eyes, softer now, held her captive, penetrating her very soul. She buried her face against his warm throat.
I love him, she thought.
“Come, sit with me.” He stretched out a beckoning hand and she followed him beneath Lady Enchantment. Resting her back against the trunk, she looked up at the beautiful canopy of golden leaves.
“There's magic here.” She spoke prayerfully; her words hung in the air.
Sirius nodded in agreement.
“I saw you in my dream last night,” she went on softy, her eyes on his. “You and Poppy, here together, laughing and smiling.”
Sirius held her gaze.
“I know how much you miss your grandfather,” he told her gently. “I chose to come to you through him, so you wouldn't be afraid.”
“Poppy was happy in the dream,” she murmured. Sirius caressed her face, and Meg basked in his comforting touch.
“So, who are you really, Doctor Lamspagetti, and where did you come from?”
Barking out a laugh, Sirius ran his finger over her delicate cheek and answered, “I am Sirius, Warlock Prince of White Light Castle Coven. I am from a universe far beyond the stars.”
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