Winded

by Sherri L. King

  “Accept fate. And move on with me.” He reached for one of her hands and threaded their fingers together.

  Vetiver caught her breath. His skin was warm. His grip strong. And he was lovely.

  “You called. I came.” He smiled, as if it were all so simple. Maybe it was. “You desire me.” His gaze fell to her breasts and she felt her nipples respond immediately. “I desire you. We can fight side by side, ensuring the legacy of your bloodline. None of your efforts here need go to waste.”

  She felt a thrill, but one last vestige of reality intruded. “It won’t work.” Would it? He wasn’t even human. How could they ever really be together? Desire was one thing. He was talking about a whole new way of life.

  “You are a warrior like none I’ve ever seen.” He challenged her with his gaze to be courageous. “The war I fight is your war too. It is only the battleground that will change, my little witch.” He brushed a kiss over her knuckles and bared his white teeth in a smile.

  Vetiver conceived every carnal promise lurking in the deep pools of his amber eyes and realized she wanted all he was offering and more. “I’m scared,” she admitted.

  “I will keep you safe, Vetiver. No harm will come to you.” He tugged her hand and pulled her across his lap, swooping in for a kiss.

  Vetiver put her hand in the silky hair at his nape and pulled his head down for another kiss. This time, for the first time, she put all her feelings into the meeting of their lips. All her fears—of him and all the emotions he inspired within her. All her doubts—of her future, the new and unmapped path wide open before her bare feet. And all of her desires, because she did want him, more than she would have ever dreamed possible. These emotions flavored her kiss, and she tasted the need and pleasure in his mouth generously returned.

  Vetiver pulled back and grinned at him, then jumped up and raced away, knowing he would give chase, thrilling to the danger of this ardent hunt. Gusts whipped her hair and she let it fly behind her like a cloud of ink, racing into the trees she’d known all her life. The woods welcomed, opening a path that would not impede her. No thorn would touch her. No root would trip her. Though this land was doomed, it knew her and loved her still.

  Boreas played the game, letting her hear his footfalls behind her while he chased. Vetiver laughed and rain drenched her like a refreshing shower, even as it stung her skin until she was rosy. The sky rumbled with thunder, the ground beneath her feet trembling in answer. Anticipation rent the air with a static charge.

  That wavering image Ball had shown her, of a girl child with Vetiver’s hair and Boreas’ eyes…it tugged at her, propelling her, exhilarating even as it frightened.

  If this was to be her last run through the forest, Vetiver swore it would be a memorable flight. She whispered to earth to lend her speed. She greeted each tree by name as she passed and bade it farewell. Thorn and brush grew swiftly at her murmured command, hindering Boreas’ pursuit, eager to join the play.

  If Boreas wanted her, he would have to fight for her.

  No witch worth her broom would settle for less.

  Vetiver would not settle for less. Boreas was a warrior used to domination. She would show him that no Device witch, especially this one, was easily dominated. He may tame wind and storm, but she would never be tamed. Vetiver Device was awakened in her full power and it rivaled that of any Shikar, radiating from within.

  And so she ran. Not to flee. But to celebrate the destiny that chased hot on her heels, enjoying the calm before the clamor.

  Chapter Seven

  A gust lifted her. This was no rogue breeze from the hurricane about to make landfall. Boreas had sent it to slow her down. Vetiver laughed merrily and turned into it, using it to gather even more speed, trumping his move. But he had more tricks up his sleeve, more winds to send her way.

  Her body twirled, whirled, all motion. She looked down to find she was running in midair. The ground inches below her bare toes. As if ascending a flight of invisible spiral stairs, she went higher with each step. The earth fell away. She was no longer tied to it.

  A particularly strong puff tore her clothes from her body. She was naked to the storm and to the eyes of the male hunting her. All that remained of her former self was the heavy armlet, but it slept and offered no assistance to her plight.

  Boreas caught her just as she cleared the canopy of trees. Looking down, she realized this was exactly where he wanted her.

  This was where they would join.

  In the event horizon of his typhoon, he marked her as his own. And Vetiver Device, last witch of Merrymint Island, let her warrior have his way, because in doing so she was having her way too.

  His arms caged her. His chest to her back, he pressed a hot kiss on her bare shoulder. Raw lust made her muscles tense. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain he could hear its drumming over the roar of the hurricane.

  He ran his palms down her stomach. Lower. Her skin was slick from the rain, hot from her run. One of his hands insinuated itself between her legs, while the other curved around her waist. He turned their bodies round and round in midair, until she was dizzy with more than desire. His clever fingers slid between her legs and probed until he discovered her wet, aching clit with the rough pads of his fingertips.

  Boreas turned her to face him. He, too, had shed his clothing, all of his sensuous, exotic skin bare to her gaze. He was bronze all over, hairless chest heavy with muscle, abdomen firm and ripped, a perfect six pack above the line of muscle that led in a downward vee to his loins.

  His cock was thick and long. The crown of his erection was wide, round and rouged with his surging blood. His sac was heavy and tight beneath the base, which was wider than her wrist, and much thicker around. She felt a thrill of danger. To take him, she would have to be pliant and ready or it would hurt.

  She was already pliant. Wet. Swollen. Eager. Any pain would be a pleasure and he would stretch her so tight she was already panting with eager anticipation for the experience.

  He lifted her up with his zephyr and settled her over him. She willingly opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist. His cock probed her slit, and with his hands buttressing her ass, he smeared himself in her silken moisture.

  “You’re hot as flame,” he growled, biting her mouth in not so gentle nibbles.

  “You’re as hard as stone,” she gasped, licking his full bottom lip.

  She felt the head of his cock positioned at her entrance and knew a brief moment of doubt. But he tore through it, as he tore through what slight barrier remained of her virginity, and claimed her as none had dared before.

  Vetiver would have screamed. But Boreas stole her ability to breathe, much less cry out. He moved deeper and she realized with a start that he wasn’t even halfway inside her yet. It was all she could do not to swoon.

  With one mighty thrust he seated himself inside, every last inch filling her whole being. Her vision swam. He rained kisses on her face and sipped at tears she’d not even known she’d shed.

  There was no more pain. Now there was only the slow burn of desire.

  “Move,” she shamelessly demanded. “Move, damn you.”

  “Wait a moment,” he cautioned with a small, pleased smile playing about his lips. “You are new to this. It would punish you to advance in haste.”

  But Vetiver wanted haste. A beautiful, dark wonder bloomed inside her and it demanded that he move. It wanted friction. It wanted to burst out in full release.

  She started to gyrate her hips, squeezing her sheath around him, moving for them both. Boreas snarled a curse and gave up all protests, gifting her with hard, fast thrusts that wrung tiny screams of ecstasy from her lips. Her breasts bounced in his face as he moved faster, harder, and he caught one of her nipples between his teeth and gently tugged.

  This in turn tugged some magical nerve inside her, making her clutch his hair in desperation as her cunt squeezed hard around his fullness then let go in a pulse of wet, dripping heat.

  Vetiver he
ard her own sobs above the din. Her eyes were shut tight of their own volition, as her body rode through a passionate release like none she’d ever achieved with the aid of her own hands. This was worlds different from any sexual contact she’d conceived possible.

  Her body was fluid around his hardness.

  His skin was hot as fire against her, melting her, making her soft and wet. Pliant like wax, molten like lava.

  She felt her release rain down over his shaft like honey and felt no shyness, no shame. With Boreas there was no room for such emotions. Only room for more passion.

  He moved faster. Harder. She came again. Her nipples quivering like blueberries beneath frost, her pussy slurping ravenously at his impaling girth. Every breath moved through her like a shudder. Her lungs were on fire. Her heart swollen with joy.

  He pressed his face between the pillow of her breasts, kissing, licking, biting.

  She came again.

  Her body felt bruised. But he wrung more from her, pumping his hips furiously as they climbed higher into the stratosphere. Vetiver felt no chill in his arms. No lightheadedness in the thinner air, because he breathed into her, feeding her oxygen when she needed it, let her moan and cry when she had enough in her lungs to spare.

  His hair was smooth in her fingers. His muscles taut and firm. His body mighty and strong.

  He rolled them, until she lay on her back on a pillar of air and he towered above, pumping his hips, arching his back, dripping sweat over her upturned face and throat.

  Something urgent seemed to spur him into action. His face went slack, his body shuddered. And just when she fell into another climax, he jerked his cock free of her pussy and spent himself into the air. His cum spurted in an arc that glittered as it fell. He put three fingers inside her, letting her ride them as they both came and came and came.

  Chapter Eight

  Hours passed. It felt like moments only.

  The clouds served as their bed. Boreas gathered a dense canopy to protect them both from the sun, and though they still hovered beneath the black clouds, no rain or hail touched them. They were a part of the sky but also separate.

  Over the edge of her celestial bower, Vetiver could see her island, so far below them, floating like vibrant green jasper in a sea of churning gray water. There were few cars on the mainland bridge. It wouldn’t be long now…

  Boreas shared the secrets of his life with her. She told him of her life on the island, of the stigma of being an outcast, of the rich pride she felt despite the hardship and work of protecting her home and its oblivious inhabitants.

  He told her that she could be like him. That it was dangerous. But that it was possible. His seed was the key. It would either poison her, kill her…or transform her into a new and powerful being. A Shikar.

  Lying behind her, Boreas trailed his fingers over the curve of her hip. “You would make a magnificent warrior. I only wonder what Caste you would be reborn into.”

  Vetiver shivered. “How many are there?”

  His palm slid over her belly. “Four major. I am a Foil Caste, master of blade.” He showed her, a snicking sound the only warning as a glowing, white-blue blade shot out of his index finger. She swallowed a gasp. The blade disappeared just as quickly, sliding back into his digit with a whisper. “But there are a great many numbers of minor abilities. For example, I am one of few who can manipulate wind.”

  “Will you care what Caste I become?” she fretted. “Are there prejudices between the different types?”

  He chuckled. “There are no prejudices. And I care only that your Caste does not override your natural magical abilities. Though from what I’ve learned, the humans who have transformed thus far do not really change too much in that regard.”

  “Change me now,” she whispered. “Let’s fight the Daemons together and run them from my island.”

  Boreas’ hands stilled on her. “I will not risk it. I only know that the few successes we’ve had in transforming human women involved the presence of a Traveler Caste. I will not lose you because I am too eager to claim you. And I want you to have more time to decide.”

  “I don’t need time—”

  “You cannot sway me. We will wait until you are safe with me, in my world, with my people, before we attempt such dangerous magic.” He paused. “And you can always choose to stay a human.”

  Vetiver, however, understood that she had no reason to stay as she was now. Everything had changed for her, in one night her world was turned upside down and inside out. Vetiver figured, why not go that extra mile and truly become his partner? She would become a Shikar. She would fight with Boreas and his people. It was as he’d said; the war was still the same. It was only the battleground that would change.

  She would change with it and be stronger for it.

  His mouth was at her ear now, gently feathering soft kisses against the shell of her ear. “Do you think you could ever love me, Vetiver Device?”

  Vetiver froze.

  “I knew the moment you spoke to my Winds that you would be mine. But your heart is your own. To gift to whom you will.” He squeezed her upper arm in his hand, which had grown hot, fevered. “I would hope you gift it to me, someday.”

  She swallowed, speechless.

  “I vow to keep it safe.” His sweet words were soft in her ear. A breath, no more. “I would treasure it. Love me, give me your heart, your devotion, and I would be your slave. Ask for the moon, I will see that you have it. All that I am will belong to you. Everything I have to offer, you need but ask. If you would only love me, I would never want for anything else.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. He wove a spell over her with words that she had no wish to silence. But what could she say that would explain all she felt now? It was too soon to love him, it had to be. But the thought of telling him anything but “I love you” made her soul hurt most painfully. So she didn’t say anything.

  It was her only defense. It was her last vestige of independence.

  She could give him her body. She could give him her passion. Her excitement at the prospect of a new life. She could devote that life to fighting a war at his side. That much was easy—she’d always lived her life in the service of something greater than herself. But to give her love to this man—nay, not a man but a different species of male—seemed reckless.

  Are you not a child of nature, wild and strong? The air practically slapped her in the face with the question. And the accusation, Did you not heed your guardian, who gave you a glimpse of what the future could bring if you would but trust in your destiny? If you do not believe this is the hand of fate at work between you, what do you believe?

  She believed in herself. Change was inevitable, but so much of it at once was overwhelming and difficult to absorb. It was too fast.

  She didn’t like the taste of her will caving in.

  But to love him…

  To truly love him…

  Now that would be a potent magic.

  Vetiver caught her breath when his lips nibbled at her ear, whispering in his foreign tongue words that sounded like silk in the water, like blooming flowers. Love. To love Boreas would be as wild and empowering as being in love with storm and gusty weather. She would not halve her heart by gifting it to him, but double it by gaining his in return.

  He vowed to worship her if she would have him. He had given her all the power in the world with those words, putting everything he had on the line. She had given nothing.

  She turned to search his gaze. Therein was the answer. He was not so confident or arrogant as he waited for her to say something—anything. His feelings were bare and defenseless to her whim. In his eyes she read the very real truth that, if she wanted, if she were cruel, she could wound him, crush him, throw him to despair. One word and he would break.

  “Do you love me, Boreas?” she murmured, touching the long line of his jaw. “Can you love a human and a witch?”

  “I can love you, Vetiver,” he rasped, grabbing her fingers and kissing them.
“Only you. And I would love you as no human male ever could.”

  “What if I wanted to stay human?” she pressed. “Could you still love me then?”

  His gaze darkened, but the tenderness remained. “That would be your choice.” Then he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, his long kohl lashes a curtain against his high, proud cheekbones. “Though I would someday love to see our babe in your arms, I would love you no less for your decision. You will always be my witch.”

  A lone, diamond-brilliant tear escaped the corner of his eye. In its shine Vetiver saw an image of the child they might create together and knew all her reservations were for nothing.

  She could love him. So easily. Because he saw her for what she was and instead of shying away, finding her strange or wicked or worse, he gloried in it. Because she could be herself with him, all the way. Because he was brave and powerful and beautiful, she could love him. Because he so clearly already loved her, she loved him already too. And because she was destined to love him, she’d loved him all her life, long before they’d met. Waiting for him without even knowing what she was waiting for, or whom.

  Because they were meant to be together, she loved him. Two mighty bloodlines joined. Two hearts made one. It was that easy. And that incredible.

  “I will carry your baby, Boreas,” she said, and kissed his nose gently. Then, whispering, she told him what she had only just allowed her own mind to accept. “Ball already told me our firstborn will be a girl.”

  His eyes flashed open.

  “You’ve seen what he is—he’s been with my family for generations.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m not saying he speaks out loud, but he let me know when I first brought you home that this would happen. I didn’t want to accept it. That you would father our daughter, the next Device witch. His future mistress. But when Ball is certain of a thing, it always comes to pass.”

  Boreas pressed a hard kiss to her mouth and tangled his hands in her heavy hair. “I would have you choose me because your heart led you, not because your Familiar forecasted our union.”