When Dylan broke our kiss, he stroked his thumb over my cheek. “It won’t work without you. There has to be a bond in place to reverse the spell.”
“A bond worth releasing. A hundred miles for a hundred days,” I quoted from the poetic and stupid clause that would unravel the spell.
“If it works, I can come back,” Dylan said. His hot breath grazed my cheek, and I tried to take comfort in remembering that I’d been willing to jump him when I thought he only had eight months to live.
I mean, I still wanted to jump him. I just didn’t want to screw up his chance at a normal, full-length life.
But he was right. Unless he wanted to try his luck speed dating other witches, I was his only hope.
“Okay.” I had another sip of rum and then took a deep breath. “I’m ready to do you—I mean it—this—whatever. I’m in. Let’s light some candles, burn some sage, get naked. The whooole shebang.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve had enough of this for tonight.” Dylan took the bottle of rum from me and set it down on the coffee table. Then his fingers laced through mine, and he led me toward the kitchen. “Let’s see what we can find in the cupboards. I’m sure I saw a box of candles when I was digging around for coffee cups this morning.”
“You’re sssuper cute in that apron,” I slurred and rested my head on his shoulder.
“And you’re sssuper cute when you’re drunk,” he countered. “How about I fix you a mug of that coffee so you can sober up before we try to break this curse, hmm?”
“I have a wand,” I announced. “It’s a fancy one. Runs on lots of batteries. We should totally go get that from my apartment.”
Dylan placed a finger over my lips and kissed my forehead. “I have a wand, too. No batteries required.”
“I saw your wand,” I said, my peach lipstick staining his knuckle. My tongue darted out to lick up the length of Dylan’s finger, and he moaned softly as he sucked in his bottom lip.
“Cream or sugar?” he asked breathlessly.
“Both.”
The rum was going to take a bit to wear off, but I had a feeling I was going to need more of it before the night was through. Even buzzed and horny, I was a nervous wreck.
Who wouldn’t be for their first sex ritual?
Chapter 10
THE SUPPLIES DYLAN and I managed to pilfer from the kitchen were not as elegant as the variety shown in Mama Ellie’s pornographic diagrams. But, we’d at least narrowed the candle selection down to pumpkin spice and apple cinnamon, forgoing the random mixture of clashing garden scents that Mama Lois had left behind.
A crate on the top shelf in the pantry yielded a handful of chunky, dusty crystals. There was also a bundle of dried sage that was so old it almost turned to dust before we could light it. As soon as I carried it around the circle we’d made under the pawpaw trees, I tossed it into the small fire Dylan had built so we’d have some light to see what we were doing as we followed along in Mama Ellie’s grimoire.
At least she’d been wise enough to include a loophole in her spell in case anything went wrong. Though I imagined she hadn’t expected it to go this horribly wrong, and it was a little hard to reverse a spell forged via sex ritual when your partner suddenly dropped dead.
Sheesh. I would have quit magic and tossed my spell book down a dark shaft, too.
Taking precise directions from Dylan’s great-great-grandmother wasn’t exactly how I had pictured my first time getting busy with the bat-shifting hunk. As uncomfortable as the sketches had to be for me to look at, I was sure Dylan found them much more unsettling, considering they were of his relatives.
Between the sweet-scented candles and the pawpaw trees, the backyard smelled like a bake sale. The small bit of heat from the fire took the edge off the autumn chill, but goosebumps still spread down my arms and legs. I was just glad that the ritual called for a night sky. Even with the privacy fence, I felt a bit like an exhibitionist.
“Ready?” Dylan asked, handing the grimoire to me as he stepped inside the ring of candles and crystals. He stripped off his shirt, and my mouth went dry. The firelight rippled across his chest and stomach, painting shadows around his nipples and in the hollow of his navel.
I shook my head and blinked down at the illustration of a nude, full-bodied Mama Ellie with her legs and arms curled around Papa Nando’s arched back. The trees behind them were smaller, but the shape of their leaves made me realize that they’d likely done this in the exact same spot we were preparing to do it—or undo it, as it were.
“Um...” Dylan scratched his shoulder nervously. “I could be wrong, but I think it said we had to be clad in starlight alone before beginning?”
“Yes. I see that.” I nodded and cleared my throat before looking up at him. “You first.”
“Really?” He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’ve already seen me in the buff—as a human and a bat.”
“Fine.” I handed the book back to him and pulled my blouse over my head before I lost my nerve. The spell didn’t call for a sexy striptease, so I cut straight to the chase.
Now that the heat of the moment had turned into life-or-death precision, I hardly knew what to do with myself. If we could just get to the feel-good part, maybe I’d be able to relax a little and let instinct take over.
I unbuttoned my pants and kicked them off along with my heels. My bra and panties went next, added to the top of the pile just outside the ritual circle.
Dylan swallowed as he gave me a once-over. His dark eyes dilated, and a tingle of anxious energy bubbled at my core. I snatched the book from him and waved my hand, encouraging him to finish removing his jeans and shoes.
A second later, we were both buck naked, ogling each other like awkward virgins. Mama Ellie’s grimoire may as well have been a copy of the Kama Sutra we’d snuck out of the library.
“I think you have to read it, since you’re the witch and you worked out the new spell,” Dylan said, nodding to the forgotten book in my hands.
“Right. Right.” I took a deep breath and tilted the grimoire toward the firelight so I could find the verses I’d scribbled on the page after Mama Ellie’s spell. She’d included the clause, but the reversal passage itself had to be crafted by the witch who was preforming it.
Lucky me.
I just hoped I didn’t fuck anything up before we got to the sex part of this sex ritual.
Some spells go wrong
Some need a tweak
Best intentions spoil
When we misspeak
.
So clad in starlight
Under a clear night sky
We release this bond
With the sweetest goodbye
.
Make your home
Where your heart desires
And leave this realm
When your body expires
.
Live a long human life
Full of comfort and bliss
One that great-grandchildren
Will remember and miss
.
By witch and bat Shifter
And the rule of three lays
Then a hundred miles
For a hundred days
I CLOSED THE GRIMOIRE and glanced up at Dylan, hoping for some shred of approval. I didn’t do the poetic chanting too often. Blinking was usually enough for my hearth magic.
“The rule of three lays?” His brow crinkled, and he cocked his head. “Is that a real thing?”
“I couldn’t come up with a word that rhymed with orgasm.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Three lays, coming right up.”
We knelt on the ground, and I placed Mama Ellie’s book beside one of the crystals lining the ritual circle.
This was it. The part of the recipe where we were supposed to do the deed. Dylan gave me a nervous smile, and for a second, I worried he might shift and take off again. Of course, there was more than my pride and libido at stake this time.
“Tell me you’re not just doing this be
cause your life and the trapped spirits of all your papas are hanging in the balance,” I whispered. “I don’t even care if it’s not true. I need to hear it right now so I don’t feel like a magical blowup doll.”
The worry in his eyes evaporated, replaced with fiery longing. “I wanted to take you on the front porch the first time we met.” He leaned forward, and his warm, calloused hands wrapped around my thighs, moving slowly toward my hips.
“Really?” I was surprised by the revelation and now suddenly wanted to know if it was true or if he was just humoring me for the sake of the ritual.
“And then inside, against the rolltop desk,” he said. “On the kitchen island, the basement steps, and under these very trees when I fed you their fruit the next day.” With each word, he moved closer, until we were face-to-face.
My heart knocked against my breastbone violently. Every muscle in my body felt stretched too taut. I longed for Dylan to crush himself against me, to work me over until I was putty in his hands.
Speaking of hands...his were on the move. I shivered as his fingers danced over my ribs. Then his thumbs ran circles around my nipples.
Moisture blossomed between my thighs, and I sucked in a sharp breath just before our mouths locked together in a deep kiss. I ran my fingers through his sweep of hair and leaned into him, pressing my breasts against his body while he groped my ass.
Then he worked his way down to the backs of my thighs and pried my legs apart before pulling me onto his lap. Whatever nerves he’d been feeling before were looong gone. He was hard and ready, and it hadn’t taken much to warm me up. Our bodies aligned as if we’d been built for each other.
Dylan entered me slowly, pulling my legs toward his until I was perfectly seated, as close as two people could get. He held me there, touching the spot at my core that even my own wand didn’t reach. I quivered against him, and despite the cool night air, a balmy sweat covered my skin.
I curled into Dylan, pressing my mouth against his shoulder to muffle an eager whimper as he slid me backward across his lap, exiting as slowly as he’d filled me. When my teeth grazed his collarbone, he bucked his hips and dragged me inward at the same time, drawing a sharp gasp from my lips.
Then he did it again. Faster and harder.
“Oh. My. Goddess,” I whispered against his neck with each thrust.
“Margo.” He nudged his face under my curtain of hair and kissed the side of my neck, then my jaw. I leaned back so he could reach my mouth again, letting his lips mute the blissful noise that exploded from me at the same time he exploded within.
Our bodies stilled, all except for the rise and fall of our chests as our breathing returned to some semblance of normal.
“That...was...” I panted, trying to find the right words.
“Okay?” Dylan offered. “Acceptable?”
“Exceptional.” I tilted my head back and laughed up at the sky. My skin felt electrified. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this good.
Dylan leaned forward and licked the sweat from the base of my throat. “One lay down, two to go.”
“Can your wand handle that much action again so soon?” I asked. He answered by throbbing inside me. Then one of his dark eyebrows hitched.
“I’m more concerned about your papaya,” he said.
“Just give the mangoes another squeeze, and the papaya’s good to go.”
“Thanks for the hot tip.” Dylan grinned. “You know, if this spell works, I may not need to worry about selling the house. I could try to find another lender to refinance the place.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “Because I have the perfect buyer in mind.”
“Really?”
“Yup. We could close tomorrow morning, before you have to skedaddle for a hundred days.”
“That’s fantastic.” Dylan looked up at me starry-eyed. “You really are an incredible woman.”
“I bet you say that to all the witches you perform sex rituals with.”
“Only the ones that follow the rule of three lays,” he said, bucking his hips under mine again. A sharp thrill of pleasure cut through my core, and I moaned as he began round two.
I hoped I could walk in the morning, because I’d been serious about the closing. I knew exactly who would buy the Hernández house.
Though the thought of paperwork quickly faded from my mind as Dylan’s mouth latched onto one of my nipples and he rocked beneath me.
The night was young, and I intended to enjoy every last second of it.
I ANGLED THE MAGNETIC sold banner over my yard sign and rubbed my hands together, admiring how well the red letters went with the leaves that were beginning to fall to the ground in front of the Hernández house.
My legs were sore, but I’d made it through the closing. Dylan was inside, saying goodbye to Papa Nando and the others. Reversal spells could be tricky, so it was hard telling exactly when the spirits would be released from the house. They could all go at once. Or one-by-one. But one thing was certain: if the spell did work, they’d be gone at the end of Dylan’s hundred-day exile.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Saying goodbye had to be hard, even if they were already dead. It was a bittersweet moment that I thought he should have some privacy for.
As I waited out front, Randal Thorpe’s black Mercedes pulled up alongside the curb, and the driver’s side window rolled down. His face was creased with resentment, though he offered me a cold smile.
“You’re the talk of the town, Ms. West,” he shouted across the lawn, following it up with a snide snicker. “Congratulations on selling this dump—though, I hear it’s haunted.”
“I’m a witch, Mr. Thorpe.” I batted my lashes innocently. “Haunted houses are my favorite.”
He pressed his lips together, and his grin grew sharper. “Oh, one last thing. There are still five months left on your apartment. I hope you don’t intend to default on the lease you signed.”
“I don’t.” I returned his nasty smile, refusing to give him the upper hand. “But I do recall the contract I signed having a subleasing agreement, and I know a nice family of skunk Shifters who need a place to stay, so...”
Randal’s face melted into a grimace. A growl bubbled up from his throat, but he stared stoically at me as his tinted window closed, concealing his hateful face. The Mercedes revved and sped off down the street.
“What was that about?” Dylan asked, exiting the house and coming down the porch steps.
I shrugged. “Just some dog who had a bone to pick. Are you all set?”
Dylan loosed a long sigh. “I’m going to miss you.”
“You better,” I said, poking a finger at his chest. “But you know the rules. Zero contact for a hundred days.”
He nodded. “If all the Hernández spirits have departed by then, I think we can call the spell a success.”
“And if they don’t?” I asked, worry pinching my brow. Just because we’d performed a ritual didn’t mean it would take. I knew my limitations, and I’d been careful not to promise Dylan something I had no idea if I could deliver. I noticed he’d done the same.
“If they don’t...” he echoed my fear “...then it was still the best night of my life.”
“Mine, too.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard, trying to memorize the taste of him.
“And either way,” he added as I released him, “I’m still coming back. Five months or fifty years. The house may be in your name now, but it’s still my home. I’ll stay in the belfry if I have to.”
I chuckled and smoothed the creases I’d made in his shirt until he took my hands in his. When our eyes met, his were as moist as mine. I wanted to believe him when he said he was coming back, but a hundred days was a long time to dwell over whether this was just a fling or something more.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He pressed a kiss to my knuckles, then backed away before stripping out of his clothes in broad daylight.
Dylan let me take one last look at him, and the
n I blinked, and he was a bat. He squeaked a final farewell, webbed wings stretching widely as he flapped higher into the air.
I watched him go, hugging myself until he faded from sight, and then dropped onto the edge of the porch with a dejected sigh.
I should have been celebrating. I’d just purchased my first house—one that I had decorated to perfection and possibly, eventually purged of ghosts. And it had only taken half of my surprise trust fund. Best of all, I could meet clients in the parlor and still boast that I had a perfect success rate as a seller’s agent.
So why did I feel like a complete failure?
Mama Ellie settled in beside me on the top step. Her ghostly hand hovered over my leg as if she were patting it, though I only felt a chilly draft that spread goosebumps over my skin.
“Don’t worry, chérie,” she crooned. “He’ll be back. But we won’t.”
Papa Nando’s ghost waited for her at the foot of the porch steps. Mama Ellie stood and went to him, taking his outstretched hand. They waved goodbye and then turned and walked down the sidewalk, vanishing into thin air before they reached the new mailbox Dylan had installed.
I was all alone. For real this time. Well, unless I counted Broomzilla. The bristled diva was scuffing around the sitting room when I came inside, sweeping up the mess of drywall I’d insisted Dylan leave behind. It was enough that he’d patched the holes in the wall. Again.
“Better than Swiffer,” I complimented Broomzilla after she’d finished. Her bristles lifted into the air and bent at an odd angle as if she were trying to give me a thumb’s up.
My cell phone rang, and I smiled when I saw Zelda’s name flash across the screen.
“Hey, Zee!”
“I guess congratulations are in order,” she said.
“I know. Can you believe it?” I looked around my new home, imagining inviting Zelda, Mac, Fabio and maybe even some of the more tolerable Shifters over for a housewarming party.
How to Sell a Haunted House Page 8