“You’re going to save me?” Natalie asked.
Damien nodded. He cupped her face with his hands, her cool, pale face, and found her lips with his own. She opened her mouth for him, and soon their tongues met in the space between. Natalie arched into the kiss, pressing her body against his, and he did the same—pulling her closer and diving into her hair with his hands, searching for the back of her head. Honey, he could remember thinking, she tastes like honey.
And then the storm came.
He watched it unfold almost as if from a different set of eyes—like those of a distant observer. Damien and Natalie were tiny black sticks upon a long, broad, wooden pier, and the storm was a mantle of black and sickly green that rolled over everything and devoured whatever it touched. The cloud bowled over the land like a huge black wave, tearing buildings to the ground and then eating them up, and in the blink of an eye the pier was gone.
But Damien and Natalie weren’t.
They were inside the tempest, flying with it, embracing each other amidst the thundering roar and the crackling lightning. Green and black fire licked at their clothes, disintegrating them piece by piece. Shoes, pants, shirts; they all succumbed to the fire. But Damien and Natalie persisted.
They were naked, now; the power of the Dark Fire itself holding them aloft and the power of the Witch keeping them alive and protected. Natalie’s hands started to gain life and will, and they used that will to explore the curve of Damien’s naked back. He could feel her breasts pressed between their bodies and he stiffened at the feel of her hard nipples on his skin.
Lightning and fire screamed at them, infuriated at their defiance and their unwillingness to let it take them. From inside, the Dark Fire seemed more like a living, breathing thing than it ever had; the green light pulsing from behind the clouds, the ripping lightning, and the blazing fires were its organs, and the roar of the storm its voice.
Damien had heard that same voice on his last night at the Compound. He would never forget the way his uncle Brian cut into his palm with a knife and spilled the Dark Fire into the world from his wound. It crackled and hissed, then, then it howled, and then it roared. And when the sight was too much for the onlookers to bear, they screamed.
It was Lily who fought it back. She had known of Brian’s plan and stood ready to counter his Magick with her own. Once the Dark Fire was in the world she knew she wouldn’t be able to send it back from where it had come; only an act of selflessness and defiance would do that. But she didn’t need to control the Dark Fire, she only needed to control Brian; and none had stronger power over the mind than Lily.
They watched him burn, consumed by his own hubris, and fled.
He would never forget Brian’s dying wail, that awful, gargling sound, and there—in the heart of the tempest—he thought he could hear it at the edge of his senses, but his focus wasn’t on the noises around him; it was on Natalie and her delicate skin. In that moment, lost as he was in the deepest kiss of his life, he didn’t know why he had ever resisted her.
The feel of her soft skin on his excited him in a way no one had ever done before. Her lips, wandering away from his mouth and finding the line of his jaw, his neck, his collar, sent electricity rushing through him. And as they swirled and danced in the air, carried by the power of this evil storm, Damien wanted nothing more than to taste her, to hold her, to bind himself to her forever.
So he took her face and kissed her again, then he pulled her legs up to his waist and pressed her close to him. In his mind he thought of a silken ribbon, wrapping around their bodies, joining them together as the wind carried them, tossed and tumbled them like rag dolls. But in their bubble of Magick they were protected, undisturbed, and the ribbon was able to work.
Heat was rising from their entwined bodies, sweat starting to form on Damien’s chest, and soon the kissing had become too much for him to bear. He slid his arms beneath hers, explored the landscape of her body with his fingers while she ran her hands through his hair, and slowly reached for the empty space between them, finding himself and… suddenly he was awake.
The windows in the bedroom were already steamed up. Lily was gone, Damien could see, and the door was closed. But he was only aware of that by virtue of being possessed with peripheral vision. More immediate was Natalie. She was naked, tucked into his body like a perfectly fitting S shape, and sweating almost as much as he was.
Together they lay on their sides, Natalie facing away from Damien, her bare back pressed against his naked skin. She was searching for him blindly, and when she found him—hard—she guided him into her. Damien’s heart exploded into a rapid frenzy at the moment of contact, beating hard and fast as, for the first time, he entered a woman.
Damien lost his virginity in that moment, surrendered to Natalie as a sacrifice to allow the binding to take hold. Only it wasn’t enough to simply enter her. This was only the beginning, he knew.
Around them, a soft, cold wind was blowing. But the heat between them was palpable, and it seemed to Damien like he could still hear the roar of the Dark Fire in the back of his mind. Receding, but present. It was not over yet. But Natalie’s loud, euphoric moan snapped him out of the dread, and he slipped his arms under and around her body… and pushed.
The motion was gentle at first, and awkward, but they found their rhythm soon enough, their bodies slowly starting to move as one; away and together in a slow, tender dance of skin and sweat and heat. Natalie reached around the back of her head to search for Damien’s hair and pulled him toward her neck, which he kissed without any more need for encouragement.
He could feel the pressure building inside of him. The rocking of their bodies, the steady, rapid breaths leaving Natalie’s lips, the feel of being inside her, her breast beneath his hand, hard nipples between his fingers; this was all new to him. It was carnal and natural and primal, and he had never felt it before.
“Damien,” she whispered, finding his hand and squeezing it.
It’s working, he thought. But the fight wasn’t over yet. No ritual was done until it reached its end, and they had yet to get there still. Inexperienced as he may have been, Damien needed to finish. And if he failed, if for some reason he couldn’t finish, he feared Natalie would fall back into a death-sleep from which he would not be able to save her.
He slipped out of her, against his urge to be inside her, and gently pushed her to her back. Then he crawled over her slippery, sweaty, naked body, between her legs. She opened herself to receive him, wrapping herself around his back, and then he was inside her again. Only this time their eyes were locked, and Damien found himself falling into those deep, brown pools.
Together they swayed, moaned, and groaned. Natalie’s hands explored the ridges of his lean muscles, her breasts rocked with the motions of their bodies, and Damien, at the last moment, closed the gap between their lips for one last deep kiss. One kiss before it was over, before the Magick took hold, before they bound themselves to each other for life in one single act.
“Damien,” Natalie sang between kisses, “Please, please, Damien.”
When she tightened her fingers around a clump of his hair Damien spilled himself inside her. Natalie’s body tensed at the sensation and she groaned into his mouth. A few rapid pulses, an instant and a lifetime of bliss, and he was spent—it was done; but Damien’s body continued to shake until long after.
He couldn’t remember how long it was until they had separated; only that they eventually had, and now the sun was up.
His body still tingled all over from what had just happened. Damien didn’t much care that he had just lost his virginity; despite being a big moment in his life, this wasn’t the important part. The important part was that Natalie was lying next to him, naked and with her arm around his chest, sleeping soundly and not unconscious and in the grips of some evil force.
There was a knock at the door, and then Lily pushed it open a head’s length. The shades were drawn in the bedroom, but judging by the light peeking through the ga
ps Lily’s head wasn’t blocking, the day was definitely in full bloom. Realizing, suddenly, that he and Natalie were naked, he bolted out of bed, dashed toward the door, and placed his weight against it.
“Morning,” Lily whispered through the door.
“What time is it?” Damien asked.
“A little after three.”
“Three? Jesus.”
“How is she?”
“Asleep.”
Lily nodded. “I’ll make you guys something to eat,” she said, “Come out when you want.”
Natalie started to stir when Lily closed the door and left. Damien headed back toward the bed and she curled up to him, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist. He kissed her on the top of her head and, almost in response, she sighed deeply and kissed him on the shoulder, then on his chest, and finally his neck. Her fingertips sailed up the ridges of his abdomen and chest to find his face and pull it toward her lips.
A jolt of electricity snapped between them as they touched; only he didn’t recoil. The sensation drew him to her, and the warmth that followed sent him warm feelings of comfort and happiness. Her mouth opened to his again and he found her tongue with his own, flicking the tip at first and then pushing deeper.
Hungry again.
Seconds, and Natalie was on top of him again. He was inside her again. And they were rocking again. He had bound himself to her; he knew from the vibrations in the Currents. There was only one now, where before there had been two. From now on their souls were one. Their bodies were one. Giving a part of himself to her had saved her life, but he knew their journey together would not be an easy one.
They would be drawn together forever. Their souls and bodies would sing to each other, bound regardless of their feelings. Could he love her? He had tried so hard to keep her at arm’s length to protect himself, his Coven, and her. If he didn’t love her, even a little bit, the Magick may not have worked; at least that’s what he thought. And if he didn’t love her now he could learn to love her, this Witch of honey and cinnamon.
Whatever happened now, the Magick had been set and their bond had been forged.
Forged in Dark Fire.
TRUE WITCH
Amber Lee Series, Book 1
By Katerina Martinez
TRUE WITCH
Amber Lee Series, Book 1
Copyright © 2017 by Lee Dignam & Katerina Martinez. All rights reserved. Cover uses images © 2016 Shutterstock.
Published by Supernal Publishing
***
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about this serial to help spread the word!
Thank you for supporting my work.
Chapter One
I couldn’t believe I had just broken it. Never in my few years as a Wiccan had I ever broken or lost any of my charms, but today I snagged my necklace on a stray nail and managed to rip it right off my neck. I was lucky the nail didn’t hurt me, but it still bummed me out that I would have to slip the Triquetra charm into another leather thong. This one had value. Sentiment. Maybe even power.
As angular shadows started to creep across the floor of the bookshop, growing longer and more predominant with each passing minute, Eliza went about the task of slotting books onto shelves. I, however, had been sitting on the counter like a sulking child for almost a half an hour, fiddling with the charm between my fingers.
Somehow, the metal was still cold.
“—don’t you think?” Eliza asked.
“Huh?” I pocketed the pendant and came back down from my thoughts.
“Are you even listening to me, Amber?”
“Totally… what did you say?”
Eliza sighed. “That girl? The one who drowned in her pool?”
“What about her?”
“They closed the case today. They say it isn’t suspicious anymore, writing it off as an accident.”
“Accidental? I thought they had a suspect and everything.”
“They did, but they didn’t have enough evidence to convict. Don’t you think it’s all a bit weird?”
I shrugged and feigned disinterest, but the grim topic gave me jitters. People didn’t normally die suspiciously in my neck of the woods, but this was the second one this year. The first was another girl. She hung herself from a withered birch at the heart of the forest. I saw the pictures. God how I wish I hadn’t.
“Can we talk about something else?” I asked, “How’d that fight with Evan go last night?”
“The fight?” Eliza planted a copy of Jules Verne’s ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’ on my lap. I wasn’t expecting it. “Go put this on the shelf, will you?”
“Yes, master,” I said. I hopped off the counter and wiped my hand on my grey dress as I searched for the book’s proper home among the shelves. “So? What happened with Evan?” I asked through the aisles.
Eliza grunted. “It’s this thing with Mordecai.” Mordecai was her tabby cat. “He’s been wheezing a lot. I asked Evan to take him to the vet yesterday for a check-up and he didn’t do it, so we had a big stupid fight.”
“How does that turn into an argument?” I slotted the book between a pristine copy of Moby Dick—a personal favorite—and A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
“Because! It just does,” said Eliza.
I walked around the aisle and caught her stacking books from a box marked “OLD” on a high shelf. Her tank top crept up her stomach exposing her flat belly as she stretched. No bump yet. Evan and Eliza always fought over silly things but it’d gotten worse ever since she found out she was pregnant. I could never say that to her face, though. She might have charged at me with a step ladder if I did!
“You guys will be fine,” I said, “You’re fighting because of the baby. Babies bring stress.”
Eliza shot me a scowl. “When did you become Doctor Phil?”
I smiled. “I’m just saying, you guys never used to fight about stuff and now you are. What’s changed? You’re pregnant.”
Eliza closed the box. A puff of dust exploded forth in defiance. “And he’s still a jackass sometimes,” she said.
“Oh come on, a little ice cream and a kiss in just the right spot and the fight will be history.”
Eliza moved the box into a small closet nearby and smiled to herself. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that. Anyway, let’s get finished up so we can get out of here.”
The doorbell tinkled. Evan’s silhouette broke the faint sunlight and crept into the store as quiet as a mouse, eyes to the floor. I smiled as he arrived and gave him a light peck on the cheek.
“Hey Evan,” I said, “How’s the cat?”
“On meds,” he replied, though he wasn’t looking at me, but rather at the visage of annoyance itself glaring from; behind me. “But he’ll be okay.”
Eliza had black, poker-straight hair which fell to about the small of her back. Her pale skin and cobalt eyes gave her an Ice Queen kind of air, but her round face and button nose gave away her heart of gold. Evan, meanwhile, was tall—taller than Eliza—and nicely put together. She’d get on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was cute.
“That’s great! Eliza was just telling me. I hope he gets better soon.” I gave the pair a winning smile. “Eliza, I’m gonna go through the new stock and whatnot. I’ll be in the back. Let me know when you’re ready to lock up,” I said.
Eliza nodded at me and then glanced at her man. He approached her like someone would advance on a stray cat they wanted to pet: slowly and cautiously. They started to speak as I disappeared into the back room.
We didn’t get any new stock today, I simply figured they needed to talk. Besides, I knew she’d appreciate the space. Luckily I wasn’t stuck in a tiny room
entirely without purpose. Inside my backpack I had a bunch of brand new textbooks and more stationery than a girl knew what to do with, ready for my first day back at the Raven Hall University.
Lost in the plethora of pens and notepads my back to school kit comprised of, I almost didn’t notice the sore thumb on the oaken desk. I had to double-take before the words written on its spine, and the image on the front, struck a chilling chord.
The giant squid on the cover of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues stared back at me from atop the table. An old copy, identical to the one I’d placed on the shelves moments ago. Why did we own two of them?
I plucked the book from the desk and advanced toward the door to the main room. Evan and Eliza were still there. Their muffled voices told me the discussion still hadn’t finished, but at least they weren’t fighting. No one wants to be caught in between these two when they fight. It’s like watching cats argue over territory. I would know.
I slid out of the back room and snaked my way silently down the closest aisle while the conversation quietened. I would slip the book in next to its sister so they can spend some time together before someone buys one and separates them again; that was the plan. But when I located the nook where I’d placed the original copy, I froze. The two books flanking Mr. Verne were still there, but the absence of a book between them made them slant into each other like tired lovers.
“Dammit,” I said, under my breath. I wish I could’ve dismissed the strange event, pretended like I’d imagined the whole thing, but in truth this kind of thing had happened before.
With the delicacy of someone trying not to disturb sleeping children, I slotted Jules Verne into its rightful place and decided that this time I would be cleverer than whatever specter enjoyed playing tricks on me. I snapped a shot of the books with my smartphone and double checked the image to confirm, smiling smugly at the triumph of technology.
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