When it was all done and over, and we sat across from each other, the full moon candle extinguished, I opened my eyes, felt the energies go out into the world, felt the beauty and love of my Goddess filling every nook and cranny of my home. And Morgan was smiling at me, not a wide smile, but sincere, and I was speechless to see that there were tears in her eyes.
“Um…” I said carefully. “What did you…think?” I squeaked on the last word, and sighed a little.
She held out her arms to me, and when I drew close, she gathered me in, sat me on her lap, embraced me so thoroughly, that, in that single, shining moment, I’d never felt closer to anyone.
“I loved it,” she breathed, her face hot against my neck. My heartbeat roared through me as she brushed her warm, soft lips against my skin there. She growled: “Your love for your deity, for the magic...it outshines everything. It was beautiful.”
I breathed out in a soft sigh, but not from the compliment. The way she held me was warm, close, shiver-causing, as she traced her long, hot fingertips in small circles over the skin of my back, just beneath the hem of my shirt.
“Have you ever,” she whispered, kissing my neck, “read Persuasion? Jane Austen?”
What? I laughed a little. “Um. No.”
“Yay,” she said coyly, kissing my collarbone. A thrill raced through me. “You won't think I'm cheesy, then. Ahem.”
What was she talking about? I stayed very still as she breathed hotly against my neck, and then her voice in a low growl murmured, “You pierce my soul.” Her mouth against my neck was now tracing down, and her tongue was against my skin. I shivered against her, my breath coming too quickly now. She continued: “I am half agony, half hope.” Her hands were up and under my shirt, and she was gripping my hips as she said in her low voice, every word making me shake, “Tell me not that I am too late…”
I couldn't breathe, couldn't make a sound as she stilled her hands against me, looked up at me, my heart thundering, beating like a butterfly's wing beneath my skin as she angled up her head, drawing mine down to kiss me.
It was intoxicating, bewitching, beguiling, that kiss, like a spell spun just for me. There were little stars popping along the edges of my vision, and when she slowly lowered me down onto the floor, kneeling over me, I realized: this is it. This is happening.
This is now.
And I had never wanted anything more in my entire life than this, right here, right now.
Her.
“Persuasion,” she growled slowly, carefully, peeling her sweater up and over her head, “is my favorite novel.”
“Yeah?” I said weakly, as she pressed down on me. Her bra was bright blue in the muted candlelight, and when she lowered herself to me to get another kiss, I put my hands up onto her back, tentative and slow, like I was uncertain if I could put them there, if she would mind.
“It's one of the greatest love stories ever told,” she whispered into my ear, as I arched beneath her, gasping out as she deftly undid the top button of my jeans. “Do you know why it's so great?” she asked me, her eyes sparkling.
I shook my head, bit my lip as her fingers sought the zipper, tugging it down.
“It promises that, somehow, somewhere, eventually, you will find the one.”
I looked up at her, her eyes wide and over me, green and blazing.
“The one,” I repeated, twining my fingers in her hair, mystified.
“You,” she said, the single word electric between us. She stopped up my mouth with a kiss, drank me in, devoured me like the wolf she was.
I didn't have time to think; I didn't have time to dwell on what she'd told me, the way she'd told me, hands inching up beneath my shirt, her skin hot against mine. She curled her hand beneath my back, lifted me up to her mouth, and there was an indelicate scrabble on my part to dismiss the bra that still covered her. I think I scratched her back, but then the bra was off, and I touched her, felt her, all at once so hungry, I thought I might die from the want of her.
“Here,” she said, word rough, growled, as she peeled off my shirt, as she, too, undid the clasp of my bra, letting the straps flow over my shoulders as I shivered, as her mouth moved over my now bare shoulder, tasting my skin like she was savoring me. She moved over me with such grace, such strength, that when she tugged at my pants, urging them over my hips and down my legs, the want was so obvious that when I hooked my fingers into her belt loops, tugging them down her thighs, she pressed me against the floor, and we were just the two of us, with nothing between us.
I wrapped my legs around her waist, felt the floor press against my shoulder blades when she pressed down on top of me, her thighs pushing against my center, and then her hips found my hips as she ground down against me. Her mouth was against my neck, my shoulder, my breasts as she began a rhythm that my body answered, as our hips pressed together. She rose up a little then, her eyes dark and sparking, as she traced a low, curving line, with hot fingertips, down between my breasts, over my stomach, and down and in one, fluid motion, across the center and into me.
The hiss of my breath, my panting, the sound of my wetness, merged with the soft sizzle of the candles on the mantle and the coffee table. We moved together.
Morgan knew me, knew the lines and curves of me, knew the places that drew from me the sighs, and finally a half groan. There was this great symbiosis that drew and stretched on, time out of time, time that remained, suspended. We wanted and needed one another in perfect concert.
This was beauty in the raw definition of the word, beauty that seemed to fill every part of me, just as she filled me, my body, my heart. She was, in those moments, everything I could have dreamed of, and yet, oh, so much more. Every touch was a brand of fire, marking me as hers, as invisible lines radiated off my skin from where she had caressed me. I was marked by want and need, marked, I knew, by love.
A great shudder wracked me, and I saw stars everywhere, stars in everything, and when I opened my eyes there was roaring, a roaring of energy, of magic, pouring through the universe and through her and in her and in me and everywhere. Everywhere was light and stardust, and my woman of the wolf grinned down at me, mouth toothsome and predatory as she devoured my mouth, too, with her own hot tongue, and I felt love in my heart, love as big as the moon.
And then I turned her over, grinning, too, panting, needing.
The crescent moon shone down, covering us like a blanket as we discovered the worlds of one another.
Chapter 11: The Alien
I woke up and couldn't remember how I'd gotten into bed.
Morgan was pillowed in the crook of my arm, her flaming red hair spread out on the pillow like an ascending fire. The blanket was tucked up and over our breasts, and other than that blanket, we were still utterly naked. How had we gotten into bed? The last I remembered, we’d been on the living room floor… I took a deep breath and tried to stop smiling so widely as I turned toward the still-sleeping Morgan. God, she was beautiful when she slept, so effortlessly sprawled there, a strong arm still looped around my waist, under the blankets. We were pressed so tightly against one another, and as I pressed my forehead to hers, as I breathed in the heady scent of her, of spice and the woods and all that was, essentially, Morgan, I heard a little ahem.
I glanced down in surprise. And at the foot of the bed sat Winifred, grinning down upon us beatifically.
“You said to give you a slight bit of space for the evening, as I recall,” she murmured pertly, before I could even open my mouth.
“Out,” I sighed, with a single raised eyebrow, pointing to the door, even as I grinned at her and shook my head. Probably from the sound of my voice, Morgan began to stir, taking a deep breath as her eyelashes fluttered. And then she was waking up, stretching, yawning…smiling. She smiled at me muzzily, the full corners of her lips turning up sexily as she turned over, pressing her arm over her eyes.
Winnie sighed and floated through the door, leaving us both blissfully alone.
“Hi,” I said, twirling a
curl of her hair on my finger. I felt suddenly shy, but she kissed me on my nose, yawned again, rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom without the least bit of self-consciousness, her muscles rippling under her skin as she prowled into the bathroom and shut the door.
I sometimes forgot that she was a werewolf and had probably been seen naked by everyone in town. In all likelihood, she wasn’t remotely self-conscious about these sorts of things.
And, anyway, I thought, sitting up on my elbows as I grinned like an idiot…we had just slept together.
I glanced in the mirror over my aunt’s dresser and saw my disheveled hair, how my makeup was everywhere, felt how I was seriously and deliciously sore, and oh my goddess, I slept with the woman of my dreams last night, oh my goddess, oh my goddess…
I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom, and then the door was opening, and Morgan stood in the doorway of the bathroom, brushing her teeth with toothpaste on her finger. She winked at me and laughed a little before she spat in the sink, rinsed out. Watching her do these practiced, normal, everyday actions was unbearably sexy. I don’t know why it was. I mean, admittedly, she was completely naked. But I was drinking in the fact that this was the first time she’d been in that bathroom, the first time I’d seen her brush her teeth. The first morning after. And there was an intimacy that was quickly growing between us. We fit together so easily, she and I. And that was delicious.
After a quick drink of water, she prowled back across the space between us and crawled back into bed and over me, and I had to squeak a little and claim having-to-pee-very-very-much-thank-you before she let me go with a smack on my bottom and the promise that when I came back to bed Things Would Happen.
Which they did.
We “got up” officially at noon.
Which is, of course, when Morgan remembered where she was supposed to be.
“Oh, my God,” she said, leaping out of the bed and scrabbling around on the floor for her underwear. “Ninth Order! Ten o’clock! Late!”
I helped her find her clothes, got dressed myself, and we drove in my car very, very fast to the coffeeshop.
Victor glared at both of us, rolling his eyes dramatically. “For the sake of a girl, Morgan,” he said, shaking his head and tut-tutting. “For the sake of a girl.”
“I’m sorry, Victor,” she said contritely, hopping the counter and giving him such a big bear hug, I thought I heard something crack. She picked up her apron and tossed it over her head in a flourish. “I’m in love! Please forgive my occasional forgetfulness when love is on the line.” She winked at him.
I’m in love, she’d said.
My heart had just skipped so many beats, I was in danger of having it stop altogether.
Victor rolled his eyes again and sighed, putting his hand to his head and flopping down onto the counter. “Yeah, and because of your forgetfulness, missy, I’ve made over one hundred lattes alone this morning. Over fifty cappuccinos—”
Morgan surveyed the empty shop, her arms wide. “So where are they now?”
I picked up a Star Trek logo-shaped pin and turned it over on my palm.
“They were all of those alien people. And their bus leaves at one, so they left before you got here. Of course,” said Victor wryly. “But…” he said, his smile softening his features. “At least the both of you look happy.”
Morgan winked at him as she began to brew espresso.
I wandered toward the restroom, wondering if my makeup was as haphazardly put on as I thought it might be. Hands deep in my jeans pockets, I was almost to the ladies’ room before I heard a dull thumping sound. For a moment, I wondered if some teenager was passing the coffee shop on the main drag of Wolf Town with his rock music turned up loud, but then I realized that the sound was a lot closer than the street.
It actually sounded like it was coming from the ladies’ room.
I tried the knob on the door, but it was locked. I knocked but heard nothing coming from inside. I almost turned and left when I heard a soft thumping from within again, this time coming a bit faster. A bit more frantic.
“Help?” called a woman's muffled voice. “Help? I'm stuck!” I managed to make out from the other side. I pressed my ear to the door as I heard her frantic voice go up another octave. “The door won't open!”
I tried the knob again, putting my shoulder into it, but the door was ancient, tall and made out of metal. It wasn’t budging.
“Let me get help! Hang in there!” I called out loudly, then sprinted back to the coffee counter.
“There’s a lady locked in the restroom,” I said breathlessly. Victor didn’t even say a word, only rummaged around in what appeared to be a junk drawer behind the counter and emerged with an old-looking set of keys in his hand.
“Happens all the time, unfortunately. We have a mischievous ghost on the premises who keeps locking people in there,” he said, with a raised eyebrow and a sigh.
We all trotted over to the restroom hallway, and after a little cajoling, the key turned the lock, and the offending door was opened.
The woman inside, leaning against the doorframe and looking a little pale, was dressed exactly like Captain Janeway (including a wig). She actually looked strikingly like her, waving her thanks at us but not saying a word as she bolted out the door.
“Oh, noooo,” she groaned, slumping when she entered the main room of the coffee shop and surveyed the empty tables and chairs. “Where did they all go? Am I too late?”
“You were with the group?” asked Victor, dropping the keys on the counter as he slid behind it.
“No, I always walk around dressed like a Star Trek character,” she snapped.
“I mean, I'm sure some people do.” His smile had sugar in it, but when he opened up his mouth that wide, it was easy to see that his incisors were sharp. “I’m sorry. Your friends left fifteen minutes ago.”
“If I don't get to the…the bus stop in time, I'm screwed. You don't even understand,” she said, shaking her head, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. She changed from angry to utterly deflated in less than two seconds. “You don’t understand,” she repeated quietly. “I can never get home…”
“There are always other buses,” said Morgan, adding whipped cream to my latte.
“No, no, no!” the woman wailed, startling all of us. We gazed at her with wide eyes as she spread her hands, turned to the coffee counter beseechingly. “You don't understand. If I don't get to that bus, there's…there's never going to be another one!”
Victor and Morgan exchanged a pointed glance then, eyes widening and mouths opening, but I shook my head, cleared my throat. “Um…but there are always buses—” I began.
“Can someone drive me there?” she interjected. “Please? I'll pay for the gas, for the time—anything! Anything at all! Please…” she said, and my jaw dropped as she began to cry in earnest, face in hands. Something I hadn’t exactly expected a Captain Janeway lookalike to do.
“Oh, gosh. I mean, I have a car. I can take you,” I offered, holding out my hand to her. She was so distraught, I didn’t know what else to do.
“I can go with you! I've never seen one of them take off!” crowed Morgan, leaping the counter and shrugging out of her apron.
“We've wanted to see them take off for years,” said Victor, already shrugging out of his apron, too, and grabbing the coffeeshop keys off the hook in the back. He let himself out from around the counter at a jog. “But you guys are just ridiculous with your security, and we could never get close enough. I'll close up shop! We'll all go!”
The Janeway-woman shrugged, face beseeching, “Sure, sure, fine, the more the merrier. I don't even care anymore. They weren't supposed to leave unless everyone was with them, so screw the security. Just please help me get there?” she asked, her hands clasped in front of her.
“I'm sorry,” I said uncertainly with a small frown. “But, um, we are going to a bus station, correct?”
“No. She didn't know that we knew, but we know.”
Morgan handed me my hoodie from its spot on the chair, and Victor and Morgan trotted through the coffeeshop with me—utterly mystified—at their heels.
Victor switched the sign from “open” to “closed” in a second, slamming the door shut behind us and locking it.
“What did you mean about taking off?” I muttered, as Morgan grabbed my hand and squeezed it with a smile.
“I'll explain on the way, I promise,” she said, winking.
Victor, Morgan, the Janeway-look alike and myself all ran to my car, parked in front of the Witch Way Café, as the skies erupted, an autumnal storm drenching the town in a roaring deluge.
---
This wasn’t really how I thought my day was going to go.
“So…you're an alien,” I repeated weakly, trying to see through the windshield that was completely pounded by rain, making visibilty next to nothing, even with the windshield wipers going at full blast. My knuckles were white on the wheel. I’d driven in a lot of bad storms (I was a New Englander, after all), but this one kind of took the cake. It was like all of the storms of the year had been saving up their rain for this particular day.
We crawled along the road as the recent conversation swirled in my brain.
“Well, yes, according to your language, I’m an alien,” said the Captain Janeway lady, who had assured me her real name was something I couldn't pronounce (since it was in an alien tongue) but that I could call her Anna.
An alien. After lake monsters and werewolves and vampires…sure. I could believe in aliens. Couldn’t I?
I glanced at Anna in the rearview mirror and swallowed a little. She didn’t look like one of those large-eyed, gray-headed types of aliens that you see on documentaries about Roswell. She looked, in fact, perfectly human.
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