Cast a Lover's Spell

by Claire Thompson

  “Langley. That creepy bastard Langley!” As his taxi sped toward her, she told him the horrible details—Langley’s disguise, his use of drugs to incapacitate her, the several hours he’d kept her tied and naked. Anne began to cry as she tried to tell Paul the sordid details of near-rape and spanking.

  Paul interrupted. “We can talk about it later, darling. Please don’t put yourself through that right now. Tell me this—how did you get away? Do the police have him?”

  “I used the immobility spell,” Anne said, her voice a little stronger. “I did it! My own magic, Paul! I’d been practicing with pigeons. When he froze, he jerked his head. That’s when I realized he was wearing a wig. He wore dark contacts too and a mustache. He must have planned the whole thing well in advance. He must have been watching me, stalking me…” Her voice broke in a sob.

  “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. I’ll be there in just a few more minutes. You didn’t say, did the police get him?”

  “I told them the location of the place he’d taken me to and then they took me to the station to write up a report. I’m going to press charges against the bastard. If they find him. He got away. He wasn’t in the room, not that that’s a surprise. He wasn’t at his apartment either or his job. But the detective assigned to me told me they’ll track him down soon enough. Oh, Paul. It was horrible. To think he was stalking me, filled with such hatred. I was afraid he was going to…”

  Paul could hear the anguish in her words and feel the pain in her heart as it were his own. Gently he said, “I’m here, Anne. We’re pulling up now. In a moment I’ll be there.” He paid the cabbie, tossing a hundred dollar bill toward him as he sprinted from the car. Anne buzzed him in and he raced up the stairs. In a moment she was in his arms, clinging to him, sobbing against his chest as he smoothed her long, curling hair, kissing the top of her head as he held her.

  He maneuvered her to the old couch in her living room. As she sat next to him, he held her gently as she rested her head against his chest. She was still crying but softly, just letting out the tension now. He stroked her hair, his heart filled with tenderness. Though he’d promised himself not to use magic on Anne, he’d meant he wouldn’t use it to manipulate her. But if he could help her, soothe her, take away some of the pain that bastard had inflicted on her, where was the harm?

  Softly he began to sing, his voice rich and deep, soothing her with words she didn’t understand but responded to nonetheless. He could feel the tension uncoil in her muscles as he wove a gentle witch lullaby round her spirit. The lullaby was an easing spell—it wouldn’t make her forget but it would remove the worst of the sting, helping her to heal more quickly.

  He could have wiped the entire incident from her mind, freeing her from the horrible memories that would no doubt linger for years to come. But he knew she mustn’t forget because Langley was going to pay and they would need Anne to make sure he did. The man was an arrogant bastard who had somehow thought himself so clever he could fool Anne and evade the law. He hadn’t reckoned on Anne’s magic. And no matter what justice might be meted out in the mortal courts, Paul Windsor vowed he would personally see to it Langley atoned for his crime.

  Later that night Anne awoke to find herself in her bed, Paul beside her, silvered with moonlight shining against the strong lines of his face. He must have carried her to bed. She must have slept for hours, right through dinnertime. Rising up on one elbow, she studied the sleeping man. How could she have doubted her love for him? Her desire to have him in her life?

  If she had gone with him to Paris, she wouldn’t have endured the horrible ordeal with Langley. She shivered but found the coil of terror at the pit of her stomach had come unwound. It must be because Paul had come home and now she felt safe. Yes, he made her feel safe and wanted. He made her feel cherished and loved. He made her feel vital and alive. Anne realized as she gazed at the dark handsome man she had never truly been in love before.

  What a startling realization, when she’d just spent the last year mourning a man she had meant to spend her life with. She had loved Greg, but it was as if her life had been lived in shadow, the feelings vague, the desires hidden. She hadn’t known there was a different way of loving, a more passionate plane of existence, until Paul had come into her life.

  And what would happen now? He did seem to love her but in warlock terms she would age quickly while he stayed forever young. As her body sagged and wrinkled, his eyes would turn elsewhere, to the next lovely young conquest and she would be bereft and alone…

  And yet. Even as she thought these maudlin, morbid thoughts, Anne reached out and touched his stubbled cheek, admiring his firm jaw, the soft, wide lips gently parted in sleep. If now was all she had, wasn’t now enough? Wasn’t now all any of us ever had?

  “Look down at your feet,” a friend had once said to her. “That’s where you should be. Here—in the moment, living each minute as if it were your last.” Then she had always been in a hurry, always looking to the next business deal, the next venture, the next big thing. She’d been in such a hurry to get wherever it was she was running to, she’d missed out on so much of the journey itself.

  She leaned over, gently kissing his cheek, lightly grazing his lips with hers. He smelled heavenly and she breathed deeply as she nuzzled at the nape of his neck. Paul stirred and turned toward her, opening his eyes, the pupils dilated so they looked completely black in the light of the moon through the window.

  Though only the night before another man had abducted her, held her captive naked and bound, still she found her body responding to this man next to her. Langley was like a distant nightmare, half forgotten as she gazed at her true love. His arms came around her as he kissed her, pulling her close. She felt his warm skin beneath the sheets and realized she was still in her clothing from earlier in the day—he’d only laid her down on the bed, no doubt not wanting to disturb her by taking off her things.

  She pulled away from him a moment and sat up, peeling her shirt from her body and reaching back to unclasp her bra. Unzipping her pants, she shimmied out of them, along with her panties and snuggled back into Paul’s arms, eager to feel his warm, strongly muscled body against hers. He had been watching her as she performed her hasty striptease and now as he held her she felt his tension, as if he were holding a china doll instead of a woman.

  She pressed harder against him, her nipples rubbing across his smooth chest, her thigh against his manhood. Paul pulled back a little. “What is it?” she whispered. Was he rejecting her? Was she damaged goods now? Surely he wasn’t so provincial, even if he was over two hundred years old.

  “What’s what?” he responded.

  “Why are you pulling away from me? Don’t you want me anymore?”

  “Anne.” Paul pulled her close. “More than anything in the world. It’s just, well, with what you’ve been through. I didn’t want to press, to rush you…” He trailed off, again pulling away.

  “Paul, don’t give Robert Langley that kind of power over us. I certainly don’t plan to. I was terrified, and yes, it was horrible. But, I don’t know, I don’t know how to explain this, but since you came back I’m not afraid anymore. I mean, I still hate him and I plan to press charges, but I seem to have lost that edge of panic, that feeling of helplessness. Since you sang me to sleep—” She stopped abruptly and this time it was she who pulled away. “Hey, Mr. Windsor,” she demanded. “Mr. Warlock. Did you cast another spell on me? To make me forget?”

  Paul sat up, grinning sheepishly. “Not to forget but to take away the sting. Or as you so aptly put it, to take away the power he had over you. I couldn’t bear to see you so afraid, my love. But I didn’t want you to forget. We mustn’t forget when atrocities are perpetrated—on a whole people or on an individual. When we forget, we learn nothing. Forgive me for working magic on you when I promised I wouldn’t. But it was out of love, because I do love you. With all my heart.”

  “And I love you.” She reached out, stroking his forearm. “And thank you for ta
king away the ‘sting’. Because I wouldn’t want anything to come between us. Not again. As I lay here watching you sleep, I came to a certainty in my own heart. No matter what happens between us later, between the mortal and the warlock, I love you now, at this moment, and I will love you as best I can for as long as you’ll let me.”

  “That’s all anyone could ever ask,” he answered gravely, “and I shall do the same.”

  This time when she pressed her breasts against his chest, Paul did not pull away. When she kissed his mouth, he responded, his tongue curling past her parted lips as his cock rose hard against her. He rolled onto his back, holding her so she was astride his naked body, her hot sex poised over his ramrod-stiff member. Her hair was a wild tumult of curls obscuring her face as she lowered herself over him, taking his full length with a deep sigh of pleasure, her body shuddering as it acclimated to the welcome invasion of his shaft.

  Slowly she began to move, sliding forward so her spread sex rubbed against him. The dual pleasure of his cock inside her and the friction against her clit soon had her moaning and panting. Paul pulled her down for a kiss, his large hands gripping her ass as she rocked over him, riding him faster and faster in her passion.

  “Oh, oh, oh, oh!” All too soon Anne felt the hot, inexorable rise of fierce pleasure as an orgasm ripped its way through her, almost against her will. Paul held her fast, his hands on her hips as she rocked and gasped against him. As the first tremors of pleasure slowly subsided, Paul continued to move her body with his strong hands, forcing her to stay astride his shaft, still rock hard inside of her. At first she wanted to roll off him and savor the still new experience of orgasm through intercourse, but he wouldn’t let her go. Soon the intensity returned, pleasure roiling through her as Anne again felt the rising heat of impending orgasm. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice rasping with need. She slung herself over, dragging him with her, his cock still buried to the hilt in her wet, slick tunnel.

  He lay atop her, understanding what she wanted, what she craved. How good, how right it felt to have his strong, perfect body draped over hers, his heavy cock teasing her into a near stupor of pleasure as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breast, his dark hair grazing her chest as it fell forward.

  His rapid breathing and soft moans matched her own. In a duet of passion, their bodies writhed and shuddered as each cried the other’s name. Anne held on to Paul as if he would disappear if she let him go, her need for him so fierce it frightened her. Then she remembered—this moment was all they had, and it was all they needed. Sighing, she relaxed against him, falling almost at once into a dreamless sleep, cradled in the arms of her lover.

  ~*~

  “No, sorry, ma’am,” the police officer on the line was apologetic. “We still haven’t located him. We’ve had his residence and office under surveillance around the clock. We don’t have anything concrete against him at this point. I mean,” the officer had the grace to sound sheepish as he continued, “it’s still just your statement that it was Langley. We don’t have any proof the person who did this to you was Robert Langley. Until we can bring him in for questioning, we can’t file charges or impound his bank accounts or anything like that. We’ll keep you posted regarding our progress.”

  Dispiritedly Anne hung up the phone. Paul rubbed his chin, thinking. “Have you got anything of his? A piece of clothing, a book, anything he’s handled?”

  Anne made a face. “Why would I have anything of his?”

  “No, I suppose not. I don’t have the skill to conjure his image without something belonging to him. But I know someone who has. Would you like to meet a witch?”

  ~*~

  Anne smiled shyly as Paul introduced her. Amelia was dressed in a flowing robe of silver silk that precisely matched her closely cropped hair. Her large dark eyes smiled along with her mouth as she took Anne’s hand in both of hers. “I’ve heard so much about you, Anne. The mortal who melted the ice around this warlock’s heart. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

  Anne blushed at her words and glanced up at Paul, who put a hand to his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Amelia, give me a break here. I have a reputation to uphold.” They all laughed but quickly sobered as each recalled the reason for the visit.

  Amelia escorted her guests into the orb room, its walls dappled with a prism of colors reflected and refracted off the many beautiful crystal balls set on daises throughout the room. Anne gasped with admiration as her eyes moved from globe to globe. While Paul’s display had been impressive, Amelia’s crystal orb collection was one of the most extensive and valuable in the magical world.

  Paul grinned at her. “Couldn’t resist putting on a show for the mortal, eh?” Amelia gave him devilish grin as she tossed her head. Normally each orb was carefully shrouded with its own satin cover, perfectly fitted to protect the priceless crystal beneath it. “I thought I’d show you them all, so we could decide on the best choice for detecting the subject.”

  She turned to Anne. “With your permission, I’d like to probe your mind a bit, to get a sense of the man, an image. If it’s not too painful, close your eyes and imagine him, not as he was in disguise but the way he really looks. Try to recall his features as precisely as you can.”

  Anne stood very still, her eyes closed, the image of Robert Langley with his icy blue eyes, the arrogant curve of his mouth, his thick blond hair brushed back from his forehead. She felt sick for a moment, bile rising in her throat as the image of Langley in disguise invaded her mind, his dark wig and mustache, the brown eyes raking insolently over her naked body…

  She felt Paul’s hands on her shoulders. “Hey.” His voice was gentle. “It’s okay. Come sit down.” Anne’s eyes opened and she turned toward Paul, who put his arms around her for a moment before guiding her to a long low couch.

  “Use me instead,” Paul said to Amelia. “I know what the bastard looks like.” Amelia nodded, focusing her dark eyes on Paul’s handsome face as she probed his memories.

  After a moment she said, “I think I’ve got enough. He’s hiding, so we’ll want to select a seeker orb, one with superior detective properties. Let me see…” Amelia gazed appraisingly around the room, her eyes narrowed as she considered. She walked over to a blood red crystal ball about twelve inches in diameter resting on a pedestal of black wrought iron. Her hands moved gracefully over it as she closed her eyes. “Yes, this is the one. Paul, will you prepare the viewing potion?”

  Paul nodded, moving toward the small cauldron in the corner. Amelia had already added most the ingredients and it was left to Paul to add the last few oils and herbs that would give the potion its potency. He lit the small burner beneath the iron pot and prepared the brew. Anne sat on the couch, her eyes moving from witch to warlock, awe and amazement overtaking her.

  Her more rational self still tried to doubt what she had seen and experienced. There was no such thing as magic. Yet, even she herself had cast a spell, rendering Langley immobile long enough for her to escape. Though not long enough for the police to find him. Yet here were these two wonderful, magical beings willing, even eager, to assist her.

  As the lovely witch stood over the crimson crystal orb with her eyes closed, her lithe form draped in shimmering silver, her long slender fingers dancing over the glass, Anne marveled that she was over four hundred years old. She couldn’t help the little dagger of jealousy and insecurity that sliced along her emotions. Paul had said she was an old friend, their relationship going back over a century. In all that time, surely they had been more than just friends?

  Anne was distracted from her jealous musings as Paul announced, “I think it’s ready.” The potion filled the room with a sweet, slightly acrid scent that gave Anne a vague headache. Paul smiled toward her. “This is it. Let’s find out where the rat is hiding.” Together they joined Amelia, still standing at the orb.

  “Each of you place a hand on the ball and imagine the subject. Just keep his image in your mind as best you can while I probe fo
r him. Though we haven’t anything of his, having both of you should help. Stay focused and don’t be distracted by what the orb reveals. Keep his image in your mind and I’ll interpret what we see.” Anne nodded, assuming the words were meant for her as Paul certainly knew what to do.

  Amelia closed her eyes, her lips moving as she murmured an incantation, her hands moving lightly over the orb. The dark red shimmered, glowing as it began to lighten to a coral pink swirling with silver and finally to a clear glass. “Focus,” Amelia commanded. Pushing down the disgust and rage looming just below the surface, Anne forced the image of Robert Langley to the forefront of her thoughts. Paul stood across from her, his eyes closed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

  “Ah,” Amelia said in a low voice. “We’re getting something.” Anne watched with fascination as the image of a man appeared. He was sitting on a beach, a drink in his hand, a brown-skinned woman with dark hair next to him in a bikini. Amelia whispered and murmured as she bent close to the image. As if he had been called, the man turned directly toward them and Anne gave an involuntary cry.

  “It’s him!” she said urgently. “It’s him.” She wanted to turn away, to run from the room, but she knew she mustn’t.

  “Stay focused, you can look at him now, rather than the image in your mind. Let me probe the area, try to determine the location,” Amelia said. She moved her fingers along the glass and the scene widened, rather like a camera pulling back from a zoom shot. A small hotel built of white brick with a thatched roof was set back several hundred yards. El Cielo Hotel the small sign read. “I do believe we’ve got him,” Amelia announced.

  ~*~

  An anonymous tip to the police enabled them to track down Robert Langley, picked up in Riviera Maya, Mexico. He was flown back to New York the next morning for questioning. When Anne called that afternoon, she was put through to the detective on her case Mitchell Spencer.