“Who are you?” she asked, deciding that talking might help her figure out what was going on.
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “You know who I am.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. You’re a stranger to me.”
“You still think you can fool me, don’t you? You can’t. I can recognize your evil no matter what guise you wear. You’ll never trick me again.”
“I’m not trying to trick you. I just want to know who you are. It’s only fair that I know the name of the man who wants to kill me.”
“I’m the man who will kill you,” he stated.
“If that’s true, then it won’t hurt you to tell me, will it?” she countered, shivering at his words. He’d issued them with such cold certainty.
He frowned, as though confused by her logic, and then he said, “I am Aric.”
Aric? Shana felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. That was the name of the warlock who had killed Moira and then taken his own life. He was the reason for the curse! What in the world was Moira up to?
The future is mine, and now yours will be mine.
As Moira’s familiar litany flashed through Shana’s mind, Ryan-Aric slumped back onto the pillow. Shana watched, dazed, as his features slowly returned to normal. When the transformation was over, his slack expression told her he’d lapsed back into unconsciousness. Anxiously, she tried to probe his mind, but there was nothing there. She didn’t even encounter the emotional emptiness she’d found earlier. If he hadn’t been breathing normally, she would have been convinced he was dead.
“What have you done to him, Moira?” Shana asked, leaping to her feet and propping her hands on her hips.
There was no answer, but she didn’t need one. A Tarot card magically appeared on the edge of the bed. It was The Devil, and his face was Ryan’s. Black magic was at work here.
Chapter Three
The Star Card (Reversed)
Stubbornness, Pessimism, and Doubt
“OH, COME ON, Moira, you can do better than this!” Shana declared, snatching the card off the bed. “I don’t need a Tarot card to tell me I’m dealing with black magic. That would be obvious even to a mortal. And speaking of mortals, why have you involved this one in your game? Could it be that you aren’t as powerful as you want me to believe?”
She hoped the taunt would goad Moira out of hiding, but she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t. If Moira was as powerful as Shana believed, she had nothing to gain by responding. And if, by some slim chance, she wasn’t that powerful, she’d never confirm it.
“So what am I going to do about you?” Shana muttered, tucking the new Tarot card into her back pocket as she returned her attention to Ryan.
Her first impulse was to summon Lucien again. Then she realized that was probably why Moira had pulled this stunt. She wanted Lucien to know about her presence so she’d have more souls to stalk.
“I am not going to tell Lucien about you Moira,” Shana said, searching the room for some sign of her nemesis. To her frustration, even the shadows were still, though she knew Moira was here. She could feel her lurking presence. “This is between you and me, and I will not sacrifice anyone else, including this mortal. So you release him from whatever enchantment you’ve cast over him, and you do it right now.”
Even as she issued the order, she knew Moira wasn’t going to heed it. Still, she glanced toward Ryan expectantly. When nothing happened, she released a sigh of resignation. She would have to break the enchantment over him. Unfortunately, she’d never heard of one that reduced a person to total mindlessness, so she had no idea how to counteract it. She also knew that she had to be careful. The mortal psyche was fragile. If she used too much power on Ryan, she could end up destroying his sanity.
“Why didn’t I pay more attention in school to the lessons on magic and its effect on mortal physiology?” she grumbled. Because she had been too busy daydreaming about escaping Sanctuary and seeing the sights in the mortal world. That pastime had been more fascinating than a dry recitation on the physical and mental limitations of their race.
“You know, Ryan, you could make this easy by just fighting against Moira and waking up on your own,” she said, frowning at him. “She is a spirit, so her real power is in her ability to make you believe what she wants you to believe. In order to truly spellbind you, she’d have to be alive.”
When he didn’t even twitch a muscle in response, she heaved an aggravated sigh. She had to come up with a way to reach him, but how?
Suddenly, she recalled Lucien claiming that men were ruled by ego and libido. She didn’t know Ryan, so she couldn’t appeal to his ego. His libido, however, was a different matter. From the moment members of her race hit puberty, they were encouraged to explore their sexuality through dream lovemaking. She’d had enough dream lovers over the years that she was confident she could incite Ryan’s baser nature. If Lucien’s premise was true, then sexual arousal might be enough encouragement for Ryan to break loose from Moira’s hold over him.
Her quandary, however, was how to proceed. She was sure that the fastest way to reach him would be to insert the vision she’d seen of them making love into his mind. She quickly discarded that option, however. It might trigger a recollection of the violent scenes that followed. Considering that he’d been threatening to kill her when he passed out, she wasn’t about to chance resurrecting any hostile emotions. She was just going to have to make up her own lovemaking scenario. Hopefully, men shared the same sexual fantasies as warlocks.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she brushed her mind against his, confirming that there was still nobody home. She shivered at the disconcerting sensation, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was doing the right thing. Moira already had control of his mind. What if her own manipulation was too much for him? She didn’t think she could live with herself if she destroyed him.
The alternative, however, was to involve Lucien and possibly put the entire coven at risk. But surely there was someone who could help her. Of course! She should summon Lucien’s cousin, Sebastian Moran. Sebastian was the troubleshooter for the high council, which was composed of the high priests from all the covens around the world. Lucien was able to draw upon the power of all the coven members, but Sebastian was able to draw upon the power of all the high priests. He was, quite simply, the most powerful warlock alive. Surely he could defeat Moira.
And what if he can’t defeat her? What if Moira claims his soul and his powers transfer to her? Remember, she was the most powerful witch who ever lived. If she has retained her own power and it combines with his, what kind of evil will you be letting loose upon the world?
“I hate moral dilemmas!” Shana declared with a groan. She also knew that as unacceptable as it was, she only had one choice. She had to take a chance with Ryan. The alternative was far too dangerous to ignore.
Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate. Since the vision they’d shared had taken place in a meadow, she decided to use a similar outdoor setting so he’d have something familiar to ground him. She chose a favorite spot of hers beside the mountain stream flowing through Sanctuary. Beavers had dammed a portion of it, creating a deep pool that was perfect for swimming on a hot summer day. Instead of nighttime, she visualized a hot, lazy afternoon.
As the details took form in her mind’s eye, she began to concentrate on the sensory particulars—the sound of water rushing by, the intermittent singing of birds, and the low buzz of insects. The smell of rich earth and fragrant trees and bushes. The sight of sunlight streaming through the thick boughs of oak trees and dappling the water with shimmering, golden circles. When the clarity of her mental vista became real to her, she envisioned Ryan swimming naked in the pool, his strokes powerful as the water sluiced over his body. Within moments, he had become as real to her as the setting.
Drawing in
another breath, she let her mind connect with his. The feeling of absolute emptiness was so startling that, for a moment, she almost lost her concentration. Quickly, she forced her attention back to the pool and let herself become absorbed in the fantasy. As she watched him swim, catching a glimpse of a strong arm, a muscular back, and tight, hard buttocks, she gave free rein to her emotions.
Desire was simmering inside her when he finally swam toward shore and began to emerge like some pagan water god. His tanned skin gleamed gold. The sun turned the water droplets clinging to his hair and skin into sparkling diamonds. As he strode toward her, her gaze traveled from the sleek cap of his wet hair to his groin, and she caught her breath. He was fully and magnificently aroused. She yearned to touch him, cup him, stroke him until he was quivering in her hand, and then she’d . . .
“You’d what?” he murmured, coming to a stop in front of her.
Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze to his face, not in the least disconcerted that he’d evidently read her mind. As her eyes met his, the lust she saw burning in their depths ignited her own passion.
Her voice was no more than a soft exhalation as she replied, “Anything you want.”
“Anything?” he repeated as he dropped to the blanket she was sitting on. Sprawling on his side beside her, he seemed oblivious to his nakedness, which made her more conscious of it.
“Anything,” she affirmed.
“Well, right now, I want you to take off your T-shirt. Will you do that for me?”
She didn’t bother answering. She reached for the hem of her T-shirt, stripped it over her head, and tossed it aside. His quick intake of breath at the sight of her bare breasts sent a thrill of excitement through her. But that thrill was nothing compared to the heat that erupted inside her when he reached out and brushed his fingertips across one nipple and then the other, urging them into taut peaks . . .
Dropping his hand to the blanket, he said “Now I want you to take off your jeans.”
Shana pulled off her sandals and stood. Slowly, she popped open the snap and lowered the zipper. As she watched him watch her with complete absorption, she let her mind mesh with his until she was feeling what he was feeling. She was so connected with him, that she experienced the hitch in his breathing, the quickening of his pulse, and the further hardening of his penis at her striptease. By the time she finally let her jeans drop to the ground and stepped out of them, he was so overwhelmed by the sensations of his need for her that she could barely stand the assault on her own senses. No one had ever wanted her this badly, and it sent a titillating sense of feminine power coursing through her.
“What do you want me to do now?” she asked, her voice so husky she barely recognized it as her own.
“I want you to come here,” he said, extending his hand. She took it and let him pull her toward him. When she stood beside him, he released her hand, rolled to his back, and ordered, “Stand over me.”
She moved so that she stood with a leg on either side of his narrow waist. He placed his hands on her ankles, and then stroked upward to the tops of her thighs. He slipped his fingertips beneath the elastic at the legs of her red, silk panties and slid his hands toward the apex of her thighs.
As he drew close to the center of her own arousal, Shana caught her breath in anticipation of his intimate caress. Instead of caressing her, however, he withdrew his fingers and slid his hands to her inner thighs.
“Do you want me?” he rasped.
“You know I do,” she managed around a gasp as his hands swept down to her knees and then back up. He came so close to the crotch of her panties that she could feel the heat of his hands through the fabric. Again he withdrew without touching her, and she stared down at him in frustration. “Do you want to torture me?”
“Only enough to make you want me as much as I want you,” he answered, sliding his hands to the backs of her knees and urging her to kneel.
She dropped to her knees so that she was straddling his hips, but as she started to lower herself against his erection, he caught her waist with his hands. “Not yet.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he placed his fingers against her lips, reminding, “You said you’d do anything I want, and right now, I want you to kneel upright. I’m going to touch you, and while I’m doing it, I want you to hold as still as a statue until I tell you that you can move. Will you do that for me, Shana?”
The image his words evoked was so sexy that Shana couldn’t speak, so she answered him with a nod. When she did, he removed his fingers from her lips and said, “Good. Now, just kneel right where you are and don’t move a muscle.”
As he issued the order, he raised his hands to her breasts and fondled her nipples. Then he began to circle them, first in a clockwise motion, and then in a counterclockwise motion. Suddenly, he pinched them lightly. The action was so unexpected that she jumped, though it wasn’t from pain. It was from a hot shiver of excitement that shot from her breasts to her womb.
“Ah, Shana, shame on you,” he scolded with a seductive chuckle. “You’re supposed to hold still, remember?”
“I can’t,” she gasped, jumping again when he cupped her breasts in his hands and began kneading them.
‘Sure you can,” he murmured. “All you have to do is concentrate. Maybe it would work better if you closed your eyes.”
Shana knew that closing her eyes would make it harder to hold still. Without her being able to see what he was doing, he’d be more apt to catch her off-guard. As she stared into the lambent depths of his dark eyes, she suddenly realized that was the purpose of his game. He wanted to see her involuntary reaction to his unexpected touches. What startled her was that this was not a fantasy she’d played out before. That could only mean one thing. Somehow, Ryan had taken over her fantasy and was making it his own.
That means you’ve broken Moira’s hold on him. There’s no reason for you to continue with the dream lovemaking. It’s time for you to pull away.
Just as she reached that conclusion, Ryan slid a hand between her thighs. She gasped, robbed of all thought as he cupped her, his thumb stroking insistently against her silk-covered clitoris.
With a groan, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Though she had agreed to hold still for him, she couldn’t stop herself from rocking against his hand. Never had dream lovemaking been so real, nor had she ever been sent hurling toward climax so swiftly.
Just as she hit the crest of fulfillment, Moira’s voice declared triumphantly, The future is mine, and now yours will be mine!
Shana’s eyes flew open at Moira’s untimely intrusion, and her mouth dropped open in shock. She and Ryan were no longer in the fantasy setting along the stream. She was straddling his sheet-covered hips on the bed, and she was wearing nothing but her red silk panties and his very capable hands.
That was impossible! Fantasy could not turn into reality without her knowing it. But it had happened without her knowledge, and it was apparent that this was Moira’s handiwork. Resting on the pillow beside Ryan’s head was another Tarot card. This one was The Star, reversed. The face of the naked woman pouring the Waters of Life from two ewers was Shana’s, but the meaning of the card—stubbornness, pessimism, and doubt—confused her.
Before she could analyze what the card was predicting, Ryan suddenly jerked his hands away from her body and bellowed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Shana arched a brow at his angry tone. “I think that’s obvious, Ryan. I’m making love with you.”
Ryan blinked, startled by Shana’s response, though he didn’t know why. It was obvious what was going on. The trouble was, he didn’t know how they had ended up in bed. The last thing he remembered was Shana placing her hands against his temples and her eyes taking on a strange glow. He’d tried to escape her, but he hadn’t been able to move, and then . . .
No matter how har
d he tried, he couldn’t recall what happened after that. His instincts, however, were screaming at him to get away from Shana Morland as fast as he could. Unfortunately, she was straddling his hips, and outside of pushing her away from him, he was trapped. For some reason, he was averse to touching her. It was as if some inner alarm was warning him that if he did touch her, he would lose control over . . .
Lose control over what? he wondered in confusion, when the thought refused to complete itself.
Involuntarily, he dropped his gaze to her full, rose-tipped breasts, and then lower to the sexy scrap of red silk clinging to her slender hips. Suddenly, the memory of caressing her intimately, of feeling the hot, damp heat of her through the silk, came rushing back. When it did, desire erupted inside him with an intensity that he’d never experienced before. He wanted to grab her and throw her to the bed. He wanted to rip those panties off her and torment her with his hands and mouth until she was screaming for him to make love to her. Then he’d ruthlessly take her, bringing her to climax after climax until she was begging him to stop. He wouldn’t heed her request. He’d continue to make her climax until she could no longer move, no longer think. Only when she was so weak, she was defenseless against him, would he be satisfied.
As the fantasy ended, Ryan shuddered. He hadn’t just envisioned a healthy bout of uncontrolled passion. There had been an undercurrent of savagery—a primitive need to conquer. Instinct told him that if he ever made love to Shana Morland, there was a possibility he might physically harm her, because the emotions she stirred up inside him bordered on violence.
Knowing that he had to get away from her, and the sooner the better, he glanced up and rasped, “Get away from me, lady, and do it right now!”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his order, and she opened her mouth, as if to object. Evidently, she changed her mind, because she closed it and moved to the edge of the bed.
The moment she did, Ryan bolted upright. He gasped as excruciating pain exploded in his knee. It hurt so badly he couldn’t breathe, and he gritted his teeth as he fought his way through the wave of pain.
Touch of Magic Page 5