by Fawn Lowery
The first sip caused her to frown and gag. She peered into the mug, her mind quickly deciding she needed cappuccino instead of the vile concoction. In an instant the mug was filled with steaming French vanilla cappuccino and she was drinking it down.
She slid her gaze to her handsome host, noting his curiosity at her having changed the liquid in the cup. She smiled slightly and finished the sweetened coffee.
“I don’t know what you did—or how in hell you did it—but I’m ready to go home now.” She handed the empty tankard back to him.
He accepted the mug and set it on the small table near the head of the bed. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible right now.” He swung his gaze around to encompass her naked body huddled in the center of the straw mattress. “We have work to do.” He levered himself off the edge of the mattress and strode to the window in the room, his back to her.
If I could just remember that toad spell—
You don’t really want to do that.
His words slammed into her brain hard enough to make her wince. She scrambled across the bed to the far side and stood up, pulling the fur coverlet tightly around her shoulders.
“It’s time you explained things, don’t you think?” Her tone was filled with anger. She glared at him with furious green eyes.
He turned toward her, his hands clasped behind his back, a condescending smile across his chiseled features. “You’ve nothing to fear. You’re safe here.”
She propped one hand on her hip. “And what am I supposed to be fearful of?” Her brows drew together.
He heaved a long sigh and crossed the room to stand before her. He took hold of her shoulders with both hands and held her at arms length. His black eyes bore into her green orbs with compassion and warmth.
Ronna felt her senses jolt. His nearness brought back memories of the sexual episode in her living room. She tried to shake off his hands, to step out of his grasp, only to find his fingers tightening on her upper arms.
“You are unaware of who you are.”
“And you—I don’t know who the hell you are either. Turn me loose. I don’t like your hands on me.”
He released her immediately.
Ronna hurried past him to the door of the room.
“I want to go home.”
“Regain your strength and we’ll talk.” He waved one hand and a fire appeared in the hearth at the end of the room, its heat immediately engulfing the space.
Ronna turned shocked eyes on the fireplace, the fur coverlet suddenly became suffocating around her body as warmth filled the room.
“What are you? A warlock? A sorcerer?”
She felt intrigued and curious. She turned from the door and took a tentative step in his direction.
Had she finally found someone who had powers similar to hers?
“I’ve told you my name. I’m Marcus Sutherland, Duke of Morganford.” He flashed a white-toothed grin at her. “I didn’t get your name.”
“You managed to fuck me without even asking my name!”
“I can understand your anger.”
“You just think you understand my anger!”
She gritted her teeth and stared at him, as a rain cloud suddenly appeared over his head and poured forth a torrent of drenching water, soaking him where he stood.
“I should have conjured up tar—and feathers!”
He didn’t move, merely stood in the pouring rain and smiled at her as though he was immensely pleased with her abilities. She glared at him, hoping to see some reaction other than pleasure from him.
“Damn!”
She shook her head and the rain stopped, the cloud disappeared, his clothing dried.
She looked at him as the smile spread across his handsome face.
“You are a descendant of the Morganford witches.”
Her eyes widened. She shook her head. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed to reveal her past. All her wonderings suddenly took on new diminutions. Who was she and where had she come from? Who were her ancestors? Had she ever known her parents? Were there others like her?
He crossed the room and took hold of her hand. He led her to the bed in the room and pulled her down beside him.
She felt anything but fear of him now. Her mind was filled with questions—questions she wondered if he had the answers to. And she sensed he was aware of her curiosity.
“The Morganford witches are a coven of witches as old as the universe. For centuries they worked their magic and menace on the inhabitants of Morganford and the surrounding villages. The leader of the coven is Drucella, a tempestuous old hag who—“
His words broke off suddenly and Ronna caught the slight infraction in his tone.
“Yeah! So what did she do to you? Or rather, what did you do to piss her off?”
A dark brow lifted. “Piss her off?”
Ronna chuckled.
I wish I’d never seen that damn suit of armor.
But then you would not have helped me, my beautiful lady. And you would not be here and vulnerable to my touch.
Ronna raised her eyes to his face. Lust shown in the inky depths and suddenly every ounce of her strength seemed to drain away. The overpowering desire to be in his arms surged through her insides. She groaned and realized he was enforcing his will upon her again—and she didn’t seem to have a defense against it.
His hand brushed her hair, lowered to the fur coverlet concealing her nudity and pushed it from her body. He pulled her into his embrace, his touch gentle and sensual.
Ronna felt all questions leave her mind as her nude body met the unyielding force of his muscular chest. She tipped her head for his kiss and closed her eyes as his lips descended to claim hers. His flesh was cool against her hot mouth and when he forced his tongue between her lips, she knew he would take her body again. He splayed his hands across her back and lowered her gently to the mattress. He settled atop her body, his mouth devouring her lips in a commanding way.
Ronna inched her hands around his wide shoulders and skimmed her palms across the rough fabric of his tunic. A simple thought and his clothing disappeared—revealing firm muscled flesh beneath her inquisitive hands. She reveled in the feel of him. For so long she had wanted someone to love—a man that would take her body and reap multitudes of pleasures from it.
He parted her thighs with one knee and settled his hips into the hollow at her crotch. The head of his engorged cock speared the hot spot of her sex and slid inside in one quick movement. He began to thrust his hips, holding her firmly beneath him. His mouth continued to assault her lips, teasing her tongue and sucking it inside his mouth.
Ronna marveled at the way their bodies fit together. It was as though he had been made just for her—for sexual pleasure and fulfillment. She lowered her hands to his thrusting hips and dug her nails into the ropy muscles beneath the smooth skin, holding him to her crotch as she began to feel the onslaught of climax.
She arched her back and opened herself up for his lunging thrusts, pulling her mouth from the possession of his so she could gulp in much needed air. She felt the heated sparks shoot along her limbs and curl her belly. She raised her feet and wrapped her legs around his thrusting hips, levering herself against his body so he could thrust deeply inside her cave.
The orgasm blossomed, grew in intensity, took control of her body and mind. She panted through her mouth, her eyes closed tightly as the sensations raced through her insides.
You are my life mate.
CHAPTER 4
His fingers tangled in her hair, his fist flexed. Ronna released a laden sigh. He had fucked her again—exquisitely. She smiled at the reality. For all her reasoning, she seemed to be lacking common sense. But then, witches weren’t the quickest to catch on to things.
She trailed one hand down his back. His skin was cool to the touch, his breathing even and restful. She shifted her body beneath his, rousing him so that he rolled off her. He lay on his side facing her, his arm possessively across her waist. He propped his head up on one hand a
nd stared down at her.
“You are very beautiful.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes searching his face in the dimly lit room. Only the yellow glow from the fireplace illuminated the space. An eerie shadow of moonlight hung luminescent beyond the small window in the room. The room was warm and she was feeling sexually satisfied as she had never felt before.
His face was unreadable. She turned her head away. How long had she been confined in that space? How long had she been under the power of this incredibly seductive man? She tried to recall his earlier words when he refused to let her go home. Had he replied that they had work to do? And what of his telling her she was a Morganford witch?
Her brows drew together in puzzlement. It seemed every time he was on the verge of revealing something to her—he seduced her instead.
Not that that’s a bad thing—
He chucked and traced his fingertip up to the arc of her left breast. He slowly circled its circumference, sending shivers of delight racing across her flesh. She grabbed his hand—least his play should turn into another sexual episode and she not get her questions answered again.
She rolled out of his reach, and got to her feet at the end of the bed. A quick thought of clothing and she was clad in Rene jeans and cashmere sweater. She combed her fingers through her hair and instantly it became manageable, caught up in a Chloe silk scarf at her nape. A quick glance at her bare feet and she was conjuring up a pair of Markee suede boots with stiletto heels and faux fur trim at their tops.
She turned, facing the man whose power she felt at every turn. A new wave of confidence surged through her. For the life of her, she had almost forgotten her wealth of powers. She propped both hands on her hips and stared at him, issuing a mental challenge.
He levered himself off the bed.
A breath caught in Ronna’s throat as he strode toward her. Confidence oozed from every male pore—a trait that both intrigued and frightened her. She felt her own courage waver and steeled herself against his control as he approached.
He was an Adonis. A man so perfectly formed that she feared he couldn’t be rivaled. She felt her nipples pucker as her eyes took in his powerful physique. Broad shoulders with bulging biceps lent perfect structure to narrow hips and long, powerful legs. A spray of dark chest hair tapered beautifully to a trim waist. Her gaze lowered to his crotch.
She urged her eyes away—should she suddenly become overcome with the urge to have sex with him again and from the looks of the man—his intention was exactly that—to pin her beneath him and ram his hard shaft inside her body.
“Stop!” Her voice was a high-pitched screech.
He paused, looking at her, his hands atop his hips.
She shook her head, clearing thoughts of having sex with him from her mind.
“You are quite the excitable witch. It’s obvious why you dress yourself.”
“And you haven’t the power to undress me—” She bit her tongue suddenly. He merely bid her to obey him, and she was under his power. She smiled at him, then cast a quick spell and dressed him in jeans and sweater.
He gazed down at the clothes she suddenly made appear on his body, raising one arm to inspect the soft cashmere sweater with his fingertips. He brushed one palm across the denim of his jeans and turned his gaze on her.
“Very nice. The fashions of your period are quite different from mine.” He smiled. “I like them. Thank you.” He cocked his head at her. “But tell me, will you take them from me if I do not please you?”
Ronna strode past him. Even dressed as he was, he was a powerful force to her senses. She failed to understand the enormity of his attraction—or the full extent of his unusual powers.
“It’s time you were honest with me.”
He nodded his head, sending a lock of raven black hair onto his forehead. “You have many powers with which to help me.” He walked toward her, a smile on his face. “What is your name?”
“Ronna Gentry. I live in Brooklyn and own my own business—a small novelty store called The Witches’ Nook. I’m twenty-eight years old, unmarried, and I’m a witch.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a novice witch. There are things that I can do and things I stumble across.”
Dark brows lifted. “You are from the future, yet you have ties to this time.”
Ronna scratched her head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He laughed. “And you have a naughty mouth.”
“And you fuck women you don’t even know.”
He sighed. “Must we fight?”
Ronna felt a headache coming on and given the circumstances of her situation, she doubted he would have any aspirin in the medicine cabinet. Or a medicine cabinet at all.
“I want you to help me find my three brothers. The witch Drucella has them imprisoned—doomed to an inevitable fate of her own choosing.”
Ronna stared at him. “Because you pissed her off?”
He wrinkled his brow.
“Because you made her mad?”
He nodded his head. “It was a slight indiscretion—“
“On your part?” She smiled, though her stomach curled at the thought of him with another woman—especially a witch that she might somehow have ties to.
“I suppose so. Women are so easily pissed off.” He chuckled.
She smiled. “You want me to settle a lovers’ quarrel?”
“No. I want you to awaken my brothers—once we manage to find them.”
“We? I don’t think I’m up to this. I should go home now. I have a business to run, a suit of armor to polish—“
“You don’t understand.”
He rushed across the room and grabbed her by the upper arms, giving her a shake. Ronna’s teeth clattered together as her head snapped back. His fingers dug into her flesh, making her wince.
“You have no choice in the matter. Together we will find my brothers and relieve them of the witch’s curse. You have the power to awaken them and you shall obey my command to do so.”
His breath was hot on her face, his anger clearly visible.
Or was that urgency in his steel-like grasp on her arms?
The notion that she had little choice in the matter bloomed in her mind. She raised one hand and laid her palm on his chest. His hands loosened on her arms. Suddenly he drew her into his embrace.
“I’m sorry.”
He sounded sincere and the mere touch of his arms around her body brought thoughts of sex to her mind. She pushed out of his embrace in an act of self-defense.
“Who are you and why did Drucella imprison your brothers?”
He combed one big hand through his hair.
“I’m not used to answering to a woman. I’m used to being in control.”
“And Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Ronna turned to face him. A smile pulled the corners of her full mouth upward. Maybe it was a little pathetic—a man of his powers and strength being grilled by a female. “If you expect me to help you, you have to be up front with me. After all, I deserve to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“You’re right. Drucella hates vampires.”
His words slammed into her brain. She had the first inkling about him when he bit her neck—just before fucking the daylights out of her and then bringing her to this place. Her hand rose unconsciously to where he had bitten her previously.
“You bit me. Am I going to be a vampire now?”
He shook his head at her. “No. I only took a little of your blood. It had been centuries since I had fed and—“
“And I’m supposed to believe you didn’t know your way around Brooklyn, so you bit the first warm body you encountered?” Her temper exploded. “And what about all that talk about us being soul mates? Was that just a load of crap?”
“A load of crap?”
She waved one hand at him. Truly his language barrier was getting the better of her sense of humor.
“Bullshit. Bologna. Hog wash. Poppycock.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I m
eant what I said, Ronna. You are my soul mate. We are meant to spend eternity together.”
She rolled her eyes in consternation. Men could be such dolts—regardless of what century they came from.
“Come. I will prove to you that what I am saying is true.” He held out one hand to her. “The proof of Drucella’s deception is in the great room of this fortress. I will show you.”
She hurried past him to the door of the room, ignoring his extended hand. The less she touched him—the better off she would be.
The bedroom was on the second floor of the stone building. The moment the wooden door creaked on its rusty hinge, Ronna realized the situation just might be as bad as she surmised. A narrow hallway, dark and extremely cold, wound its way toward a yellow glow of light at one end. She headed toward the light, hoping that what was on the lower floor was better than she had seen on the second.
A curving staircase arched around a circular formed wall, the steps narrow and uneven, giant stone boulders positioned atop each other. She placed one hand on the wall as she maneuvered down the steps. Marcus followed close behind her, each step of his heavy boots echoing in the vast openness of the building.
Partway down the staircase she spied a blazing torch positioned on the wall near the end of the steps. It rose upward in a spiked yellow flame that gave off a smoky stench. As she set foot on the floor at the bottom of the staircase, she caught sight of a massive fireplace in the end of the large room. The interior was eerily cold and dimly lit. She saw a window high on the wall and wondered what time it was. It was pitch black outside.
An enormously large table, with numerous chairs, sat near the hearth. Wall hangings hung on the adjacent wall, tapestries of the time period, no doubt. She glanced around, her emotions ready to explode as she realized she had somehow traveled further back in time than she even realized possible. She glanced over her shoulder at her host.
“What year is this?”