Eighth Wand

by December Quinn

  “Kym, I really don’t think I’m ready to go through her things. She’s only been gone for three months.”

  Kym set her thin, cherry-red lips in a tight line and raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to do me a favor in exchange for me doing you a favor.”

  Pru sighed. Hell. Maybe it would be a good thing. She’d wanted to clear all that stuff out, get an idea what was up in the attic. He couldn’t have anything in the house. Not the furnishings or art or knickknacks Gran had collected over the years, every one of them with a story behind it. But some of the attic stuff Gran didn’t care about.

  And it wasn’t like the inheritance would last forever if Pru didn’t find a job soon.

  “Fine. He can come tomorrow afternoon. Three o’clock should be fine.”

  “Perfect.” Kym pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of the Victorian Prudence had inherited. She reached over and opened the door, while Prudence lifted the hook to push the seat forward so she could get out. “Careful with the seat, you’ll wrinkle my clothes.”

  Bitch. Making Pru sit in back so she could drape her dry cleaning over the front seat “to air out”.

  “Okay, thanks,” Pru said, stepping out onto the pavement, but Kym was already pulling the door closed behind her and driving away.

  Chapter Two

  She took an ice-cream sandwich from the freezer and unwrapped it. There hadn’t been much to eat before and she didn’t have much in the fridge, either. Ice-cream sandwiches weren’t a good dinner, but she supposed there were worse. Two hundred calories each, she could have three if she wanted.

  She didn’t really think she could eat three ice-cream sandwiches at one sitting. But who knew? The world was full of possibilities, right?

  Sliding her tongue between the cookie layers to scoop out some ice cream, Prudence wandered from the kitchen to the living room. Everything here was exactly the way Gran left it. Even her knitting still sat in its basket by her ivory brocade armchair.

  Getting used to her being gone was hard. Forcibly removing her things would have felt like Pru was kicking the old lady out of her own home.

  Pru reached for the remote, hoping there would be a good movie on, but stopped just before her hand reached it.

  Her skin prickled. Someone was watching her.

  She’d felt this way at the bonfire too. Like power was seeping over her skin.

  For a moment she stayed frozen, then pulled her hand back into her lap as casually as she could. If someone was watching her—which she was pretty sure they were—she didn’t want to tip them off, but she didn’t want to put the TV on and make it harder to hear someone outside, either.

  She stood up and faked a stretch. Her muscles protested, too tense to relax the way they should. Her back still ached where she’d fallen on the stick earlier.

  The ticking of the clock echoed through the room as she glanced around, trying to look like a woman surveying her home with satisfied disinterest before going to bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The phone hung on the wall in the kitchen. Gran hadn’t liked cordless phones, either.

  Could she call 911 and tell them she thought someone was outside? What if nobody was?

  The hell with it. She knew there was. Her heart pounded an alarm, and she didn’t need to justify her decision to heed it. If she were wrong, she would give the cops coffee and send them on their way. Then she could sleep soundly, at least.

  Her forgotten ice-cream sandwich melted onto her fingers. She licked it off, her stomach twisting in protest, and ambled back toward the kitchen. Only a few more steps and she would be away from the front windows. Had she locked the door behind her? She must have, right? She’d lived in Seattle for five years, she locked the door habitually.

  Right? She hadn’t gotten lax after a month and a half of small-town life, had she?

  She should go check. Just in case. But what if her watcher lurked there, just outside the door? What if he heard her footsteps coming?

  She had to take the chance. Her skin threatened to crawl off her body, but she could not stand here in an unlocked home and wait for the serial killer to come on in.

  The smooth wood floor was silent under her feet as she took one careful step toward the door, then another. If only she hadn’t decided to cheer herself up by wearing her red nightgown. It emphasized her breasts and was short enough to show off her legs, while hiding the gentle bulge of her tummy, but it was so…red. Bright red. Like a flag in front of a bull.

  The streetlights shone through the slim windows on either side of the door, making elongated patches of yellow across the floor. Prudence avoided one of them, reaching for the knob to check the lock.

  “I have come to complete our bargain.”

  “Aaaah!” With no weapon at hand—why hadn’t she grabbed a weapon?—the only thing Pru could throw was her melty ice-cream sandwich. She did, spinning around and flinging it straight into his face. Those years of softball did not go wasted. It splattered right on target.

  He didn’t move. The absurd urge to laugh bubbled up in her chest. So it was him—he? Whatever—the man from the woods, the one Kym hadn’t been able to see. She should have known.

  He reached up and wiped bits of soft cookie off his face, licking his lips. “What weapon is this?”

  “It’s, um, it isn’t really. A weapon. It’s ice cream. Food.”

  “You threw food at me?”

  “You snuck into my house and scared me—again! What was I supposed to do?”

  “You should not waste food in such a manner.”

  “And you should not invade people’s homes.” She stared at him for a minute. Vanilla ice cream dripped down his cheek and onto his broad, strong chest. He stood in the shadows, but she could still see every muscle in his body, so cleanly defined was he. She swallowed.

  “If you had not run away from me in the woods, I would not have had to follow you here.”

  “You didn’t have to follow me, you chose to—whatever. Please get out of my house.”

  “As soon as you give me the wand. I have come ready to pleasure you if you require it, according to our bargain.”

  “We didn’t make a bargain. I don’t know what you want.” She should have been scared. She knew it, knew that most women, confronted with a tall, broad, brooding shirtless stranger in their homes would have been terrified. Pru’s heart still pounded, her breath was still short—but not because of fear. It was a very different base instinct.

  “But I know what you want, Prudence.”

  I bet you do. “I don’t want anything but for you to leave.”

  Why the hell wasn’t she scared? Why did something about him feel so damn…familiar?

  He left his position by the wall, sauntering toward her. His gaze caught hers, held it. The lights from outside caressed his skin as he walked through them and back into the shadows to stand in front of her.

  The scent of pine assailed her, of pine and earth and pure, clean air. She’d never really smelled it before, but knew instantly that was what it was.

  “If you truly want me to leave, Prudence,” he said softly, “then you will give me what I want and I will go. The fact that you have not yet given it to me leads me to believe you want something first.”

  “This is insane,” she said in a small voice. “How did you get here, anyway? Are you a figment of my imagination?”

  “Would a figment of imagination be able to do this?” he asked, sliding his hands over her hips and yanking her close. The heat of his body soaked into her skin. Her nipples rose to greet him as his erection pressed into her stomach, thick and hard. Already she ached inside, already her pussy swelled and opened.

  The reaction made no sense. She should be screaming in panic, she should be ready to run…outside into the street, not upstairs to the soft sheets of her bed.

  His fingers skimmed the silk of her nightie, caressing her ass in slow circles, sending tingles through her entire body. Tentatively, she
put her hands on his shoulders, afraid she would fall if she did not, but afraid what he would think if she did. No matter what, she couldn’t go through with this. No way could she let him run his hands down her thighs to the hem of her gown, she couldn’t possibly allow him to dip his fingers beneath it to touch her bare skin, or to scrunch it under his palms as he lifted it so he could feel her silky panties barely covering her bottom.

  But then, if she was imagining all of this…Kym hadn’t been able to see him in the woods. He’d run behind Kym’s car, all the way from the park to here? Impossible, it was almost ten miles and he wasn’t even sweaty.

  And…it was Beltane, after all. Maybe she’d somehow managed to do a little sex magic of her own, there in that field. Maybe as they did the ritual and she thought about the wild, intense love promised by the tarot card she’d found, she’d somehow made a wish the Goddess heard.

  This man was certainly the stuff of wishes.

  So she tilted her face up toward his and let him kiss her.

  She’d expected something like what the other men she’d been with had done—a few slow brushes of lips, gradually deepening—but this man didn’t bother with any of that. His lips took hers, demanded her acquiescence, and before she had time to think, she gave it. Her chest tightened, her heart pounded.

  His tongue danced into her mouth, slow and sure, finding hers and touching it, stroking it. He tasted the same way he smelled—of fresh air and forest.

  Something rolled over her, through her, a sensation of power and something deeper, something…ancient. It coursed through her veins, setting her afire. Her fingers scrabbled at his shoulders, digging into his skin. A longing so intense it was almost pain made her eyes sting, brought her lips away from his as she gasped. The purity of him, the power… Her knees were weak, and it wasn’t simply the sizzling of her nerve endings from his kiss.

  “Wait,” she murmured. “Wait, I don’t think I can take—”

  “Yes, you can.” He kissed her again, still more ruthlessly. His hands left her bottom to slide between her legs, his fingertips brushing against the wet silk covering her pussy. The gentle brush of his skin over her aching, tender slit made her shiver.

  The solid wall behind her and the solid man in front of her kept her from falling, but for a precarious moment Pru thought she might anyway, might slide into a puddle of molten goo on the floor. His hands, his fingers…his tongue…it had been so long.

  And it had never been this good.

  He nibbled at her neck, his lips tickling the sensitive skin at the base of her throat, then moved farther down. The almost nonexistent fabric of her nightie dampened under his breath, and when he took one nipple into his mouth through the red silk, she cried out. Her voice echoed in the empty, silent hall as her fingers twined into his long black hair.

  The silk was soaked by the time he pulled away, then reached up to lower her straps.

  She tensed. No matter how badly she wanted him—and judging by the wetness in her panties and the way her blood roared through her veins, she wanted him pretty badly—this was the moment she hated. When her slightly thick-in-the-middle, no-waist body was finally exposed, when her faults were made clear to someone she was trying her hardest to please.

  He peeled the nightie down, trapping her arms for a moment in the spaghetti straps. “Lovely,” he said. “So warm. So real.”

  Don’t even think about asking if he thinks you’re fat. Do not even think about it.

  Keeping from asking the damning question was easy when he kissed her again, when the red silk fell to the floor in a shining puddle, when he coaxed the panties down her thighs to join it.

  His lips traveled down her chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. Pru closed her eyes as he took first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. Without the slight barrier of silk between his skin and hers, the smoothness of his tongue, the ridges of his teeth, were so real, so there.

  She realized she’d kept her hands still on his hips, as if she was afraid he would disappear if she tried to trace the planes of his body, memorize the feel of his skin under her palms. He certainly wasn’t disappearing now, as he stroked her breasts and rib cage. Tentatively, she lifted her hands, bringing them over his hard, flat chest as he straightened his back.

  His breath caught. Triumph and delight surged through her. He wanted her. He really, genuinely wanted her. Her touch was enough to make this amazing specimen of manhood gasp.

  Emboldened by the realization, she continued moving, running her fingertips over the expanse of his shoulders and down the muscles of his arms. She traced the outline of his tattoo, felt his male nipples hard against her skin.

  “Prudence,” he whispered. His forehead pressed against hers, forcing her head to tilt back. “I knew you would be like a flame in my arms.” He curled his fingers into her hair, holding her face steady. Their eyes met and something in her soul opened. This was insanity, it was impossible, but she didn’t care. This was right.

  His eyes drifted shut as she reached down to stroke his erection through the soft, suede-like fabric of his snug trousers. The hard ridge of his cock twitched when she caressed it, and his hips bucked forward, trapping her hand between them.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to call you.”

  “Royd. I am Royd.”

  She tasted the word. “Royd.”

  “Prudence.”

  She started to smile, to speak, amazed at how comfortable she felt when standing naked and aroused in front of a man she didn’t know, but the smile turned into a gasping laugh when he scooped her up, his arms firm under her thighs. The laugh turned into a moan as his hardness pressed against her clit.

  “Where do I take you, Prudence?” In this position, their heads were almost at the same level. She could look into his eyes much more easily. “Where in this place do your lovers take you?”

  I don’t have any lovers was on the tip of her tongue, but again, thankfully, discretion prevailed. “Upstairs. Take me upstairs.”

  Moving silently, swiftly, he did. The two of them rose together up the narrow staircase as if on wings.

  “In there.” She removed one hand from around his neck to point.

  Here the dim light barely defined the shapes of the room, and bleached everything to the color of city snow. Her bed loomed warm and inviting, and Royd placed her on the edge of the mattress and knelt on the floor in front of her.

  “If I kiss you here, does that please you?” he asked, brushing the inside of her knee with his lips. He glanced up to see her nod.

  “How about here? Is this a good spot to touch?” Now his teeth scraped her inner thigh, a spot about halfway up. His hands edged her legs farther apart.

  She thanked the gods she’d just trimmed and shaved her bikini line. “Yes.”

  He leaned still closer. The heat of his breath puffed against her wet flesh. “And here?”

  Her reply was lost as he dipped his tongue into her folds, tasting her arousal, running it so lightly along the delicate skin that it might as well have been air. Instantly she was lost in sheer delight, lost in need. Already pressure built in her pelvis.

  His hands warmed her as they moved from her thighs up her sides to her breasts, then back down again to hold her hips steady. Pru couldn’t help herself. His tongue zeroed in on her hard little clit and she couldn’t stop moving, shifting, tilting her hips up in a silent plea for more. Her fingers twisted in his hair, tugging helplessly, urging him closer still. She wanted his tongue inside her, on her, wanted him to suck her clit into his mouth. She wanted his fingers in her cunt, in her ass. She wanted to straddle him beneath the moon and ride him until they were both breathless.

  Her heels dug into his shoulders as she lifted her burning pelvis. Her clit was a spot of light, an inferno between her legs, and it was about to explode into the gloom like fireworks. Royd’s fingers tightened on her thighs. His head reared up over the edge of the mattress, forcing her
to recline even farther until she was flat on her back with her pelvis rocked up toward him. His strong hands supported her ass, holding her up, but she bent her legs anyway, crossing her ankles behind his neck.

  Now he straightened further. Only her head touched the mattress. Her back arched, his hands clenched her ass, and she came, her cries animalistic in the darkened room, her eyes squeezed shut as an orgasm more intense than she could ever remember ripped through her body.

  Royd felt her shake, felt the gush of heat flowing from her onto his tongue and groaned. Better than he’d thought, better than he’d imagined. Prudence held nothing back. Her cries of delight rang in his ears, the light, clean scent of her gentle sweat mixed with the wild perfume of her arousal filled his nose. Women of the Fae were so quiet, so ethereal even in passion…lovely, but not like this. He could ram himself into her, could obey the demands of his body for action, and she would glory in it, would be right there with him.

  He’d never dreamed he would find a woman like this. It may only be for one night, until she returned what had been stolen, but until the night ended, she belonged to him. And something deep inside him rejoiced at the thought. Somehow she was his, whether it was because he only had a short time or something else. He didn’t know. All he knew was when she looked him in the eyes, he’d felt something give way and he couldn’t wait to bury himself in her body as he already felt a part of his soul had buried itself in hers.

  He lowered her back to the bed, unable to ignore the demands of his own body any longer. When he was satisfied…then he would taste her again. He would spend whatever time he had left learning how to please her, letting himself do things he’d only dreamed of. But for now his trousers were damp with his own fluid, leaking from him as he swelled and ached.

  She looked stunning on the bed, her eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, her arms stretched over her head. In the near-darkness, she looked like a sylph, one of the water Fae he had only seen once or twice in his life, but the memory of whom had stayed with him forever. They were built like her too, with long, elegant limbs and straight torsos. He’d felt her embarrassment earlier when he removed her shiny dress, the moment of uncertainty that he might not like her body. Ridiculous. She lived in her body, with all her passion and light, how could he not find it appealing?