9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  He cupped her face, tilted it up to meet his lips. Pausing, he searched her face. She was clumsy with magic, a danger to everyone around her. His chest ached with the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her laugh. There’d be no recovering from this. His heart would bleed for eternity. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

  Then he lowered his head and spoke softly, an ancient chant from the beginning of time.

  “Silver eyes and ruby lips,

  From the witch’s mouth, a waken sips.

  Stealing a kiss, the waken’s bold

  And he smiles when he steals the witch’s soul.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah Cloyce, Rebecca Nurse’s sister, was the next woman accused of witchcraft.

  ~Salem Witch Trials

  April 3, 1692

  Page Entry…

  For the next hundred years, Queen Shy-Ryn ruled over the witches and Sanctuary. Once again, times were peaceful and happy. But time passed on, as time does. And hatreds grew in strength.

  Having seen what her father did to Leyla, Shy-Ryn refused to search for a mate or to even consent to a mating session at Beltane to beget an heir. She would not put the throne at peril by risking her soul.

  Though the half-brothers did not share their plans with each other, nor even see each other, the first rumblings of unease began to spread through Sanctuary, fanned by the flames of jealousy from Kran.

  Black Drayke dwelled in the woods outside the boundaries of Sanctuary and waited for the day he could take his revenge.

  Unbeknownst to one another, the half-brothers had a common goal–Bring down the House of Winslow at any cost.

  ~Pages of history from the Winslow witches.

  In the Year of Samhain, 1350

  Ru-Noc

  Droth

  City of the wakens

  MeLora Haven fussed with her raven curls in front of the gilded mirror Black Drayke had given her when he was in one of his generous moods. She paused to tug at the front of her gown until the ripe curves of her breasts were temptingly displayed.

  Black Drayke stepped up behind her, naked, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You look beautiful, as usual.” He slid his hands across her abdomen, massaging the subtle thickening of her waist with the tips of his thumbs. “Soon you will bring my son into our realm. The fourth child conceived between us in how many centuries?”

  She shrugged. “Who counts the passing of centuries?”

  “This babe will take his rightful place on the throne.” Black Drayke smiled, his eyes black as pitch. “One day he will rule Ru-Noc.”

  MeLora cupped his hands, threading her fingers through his and leaned her head against his bare chest. “He’ll rule Sanctuary. That is his rightful throne.”

  Black Drayke frowned. “The coven will never stand for a male on their throne.”

  Smiling, she lifted a brow. “What coven? It hasn’t existed in centuries. There’s no one to stand in my way. Our son will rule Sanctuary. I swear it.”

  “As long as he is king, I care not which throne he sits upon. Perhaps he’ll rule both kingdoms?”

  “Yes.” MeLora agreed. “Perhaps. Have you chosen a name for our son?”

  “Lucifer.”

  “Perfect,” she said, laughing.

  “Absolutely,” he whispered and nibbled at her nape.

  MeLora arched into his touch, moaning her pleasure at his light touches. “We must be careful, Black Drayke. To accomplish our goal, the king must believe he spilled his seed inside me and it took root. It’s imperative he have memories of mating with me. There can be no doubts bandied about that the child I carry isn’t his.”

  Black Drayke cupped her heavy breasts and nuzzled her throat. “King Darak will not be able to resist your magic or your charm. He’ll believe this child is his. He won’t deny it.”

  MeLora held up a vial of powder, shaking it. “He’ll not resist my magic once I pour this in his wine. He won’t be able to think about any woman but me.” She shrugged. “I intend to make certain he has no doubt the babe is his.” She gave a slight smile. “He’ll believe whatever I whisper in his ear.”

  Her black gown swished softly, following the graceful lines of a lush body as she turned away from her lover and paced about the room. Black Drayke licked his lips, eyeing the tantalizing globes of her milky breasts spilling over the top of the gown. A muscle ticked furiously in his jaw. “You’re meeting him tonight?”

  She nodded. Her dark eyes were as cold, as merciless and devoid of expression as she knew Black Drayke’s were. “I’ll give him a taste of what he’s missing. Very soon, I’ll reign as his queen at his side. As soon as my son is born and he declares him his heir, Darak will be expendable. You will then become my king.” She laughed. “I’ll give the king a son he can be proud of, not those pathetically weak wakens Helayne has borne him.”

  Black Drayke slanted a smile at her and tugged her closer. He massaged her belly. “My son.” His face twisted with sudden boredom as he released her. “What of Helayne? You think she will just move over and allow you to take her crown?”

  MeLora slid a long, red fingernail down his cheek. “Helayne will be in no position to object. While I am stealing her crown, you’ll take care of her.”

  Drayke frowned. “Take care of Helayne? And how would you suggest I do that? She’s no fool.”

  MeLora checked the annoyance in her voice. She wasn’t quite ready to play her hand with her lover. “Use your imagination. You have tons of untapped magic at your fingertips. Use it. Weave a spell around her. Cast her inside the gilded mirror in her room, where she can see and hear everything that happens in her chambers but cannot get free to protest. Mate with her, if that’s your desire. I have no care what you do to her.” She arched a brow and massaged his cock. “Surely, you can think of ways to silence the queen? Hmmm?”

  Black Drayke laughed. “You’re so evil, my love.”

  MeLora gave him a faint smile, filled with gloating satisfaction when his cock stretched and filled her hand. “Yes, I am and never forget it. I want you to record what you do to the queen in this.” She thrust a red glass ball into his hands. “It will capture everything you do to her so I can watch later. See to it she suffers.”

  “I have my means of persuasion, my dear,” Drayke sighed with pleasure as MeLora went down on her knees in front of him and took his thick cock inside her mouth. She knew how to please him.

  He locked his fingers in her hair and thrust deeply, again and again. Except for his grunts of pleasure, a hush filled the room until she brought him to peak. MeLora smiled and licked the last traces of his seed from the thick, bulbous head of his twitching cock.

  “The queen will have nothing to say when I’m finished with her,” Drayke said.

  MeLora stood up and clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Disguise yourself as a palace guard in order to gain entrance inside. Even now, Wizard Marcelo is busy concocting something special for me to use on the king.” She paused, then changed the subject. “What happened last week to so enrage you? You’ve been in a black mood since your return from the guild’s meeting.”

  Black Drayke turned away, snapped his fingers and a bucket of ice with a magnum of champagne appeared on a nearby table. He pulled two slender glasses from the air. The cork popped free of the bottle and sailed through the air. Laughing, he poured them both a glass.

  Pressing a long-stemmed flute into her hands, he scowled. “The elders have committed a vile and foolish act. I can hardly wait for the day we overthrow that pack of withered wakens.”

  MeLora took a sip from her glass. “Delicious, my darling, as always.” She set the glass aside and went back to fussing with her hair. “Soon, Black Drayke, patience or they will destroy you.”

  The fragile stem of the glass Black Drayke held snapped, spilling icy champagne down his bare chest. MeLora gasped and turned toward him. Slowly, she traced her fingertip down the wet streaks and brought her finger to her mouth. She saw his nipples tighten and leaned c
loser, swirling her tongue around one, then the other, before gently drawing it into her mouth.

  His cock stirring to life once more, Black Drayke groaned. “Don’t. We have no more time to play. I too, must get to Wizard Marcelo and have him brew me a special potion. I have great plans for the queen.”

  MeLora nodded. “Be careful and watch out for the ancients.”

  “They are only powerful when they are all together,” Black Drayke assured her. “Alone, they are weak, old men. Saul is deaf, and Katch is so ancient his bones have dried. It would take little to crumble him into dust. ”

  MeLora looked thoughtful. “Do not underestimate Katch. He’s lived a long life. His powers know no boundaries.”

  “Talon is furious with the High Wizard. He and the king snarl at each other like two rabid wolves fighting over a bone. They no longer bother to keep it secret they detest each other.” He sneered. “When the time is right, I will head a new guild with my own chosen wakens. I’ll see to it they seek Talon’s execution. I want him destroyed!”

  MeLora clapped her hands. “Brilliant. Now, my love, what have they done to anger you?”

  Black Drayke uttered a few choice curses. “I was not chosen to take the lives of three witches sentenced for soul removal and there’s an illumrof in Sanctuary. A female. They have given her over to Sage to terminate.”

  MeLora gasped. “An illumrof? How in the world did a human cross into our realm?”

  Black Drayke raked fingers through his greasy hair. “I have no idea. But, believe me, I have every intention of finding her before that weakling Sage has an opportunity to destroy her.” He snorted. “I want the pleasure of that myself, as if he’d have the balls to get the job done.”

  “What do you want with an illumrof female? Leave her to Sage,” said MeLora.

  An icy glitter sparkled in Black Drayke’s obsidian eyes. “I want to—” he paused abruptly, rubbing a fingertip across one brow, “how can I put this delicately? I want to boff her brains out and watch her die a slow, agonizing death when she tries to expel my seed from her womb.”

  MeLora flung her head back and laughed deep in her throat. “Goddesses! But you have absolutely no scruples, darling. You do bear a grudge against illumrofs.”

  “I can’t steal their souls, but I gain immense satisfaction watching the human female die in agony. It is but a small payback for the burning of our people during the witch trials. Is it not?” He started to pace as he returned to their discussion. “Talon, Sage, and Stry presented a united front. The elders crumbled under their demands.” He whipped around to face MeLora. “Talon refused to do his duty, until he decides if the witch deserves death. Stry and Sage demanded, and were granted, the same damn rights.”

  “They can do this thing? Refuse what the ancients decree?”

  Black Drayke nodded. “Oh, yes. Talon went about it most cleverly. Pfft. I would steal her soul before she knew what happened, but they won’t allow me to touch her until Talon makes a decision. Talon! Talon.” He spat the name with a vengeance. “Always, since the days he was one of my students, he has been in my way! He cost me my teaching post at the academy. Did you know that?”

  MeLora shook her head impatiently. “Forget Talon. Who is this witch?”

  “I do believe she is called Saylym. Isn’t that ironic?”

  “Saylym? Huh. Indeed, most curious. And what is her mother’s surname?”

  “Winslow.”

  “Winslow?” MeLora gasped, clutching her bosom. The glass of champagne slid from her fingers and crashed to the floor. “You’re mistaken! It isn’t possible.”

  Black Drayke arched a dark brow, snapped his fingers to clear the broken glass, and handed her a second flute filled with champagne. “Why do you say that?”

  MeLora met his curious gaze and hid the unexpected fright churning in her stomach. “It can’t be.”

  Black Drayke busied himself with cleansing and dressing by simply flicking his wrist. He paused from adjusting his black satin cloak over his shoulders. “What is it, love? You’ve gone white as salt.”

  “Are you such a fool as to not remember the Winslow name?”

  “I remember it very well. Long has that branch of Winslows been destroyed. No need to worry. It’s a common enough name.”

  “It is not!”

  “Why not?” Black Drayke asked calmly.

  “If she’s truly a Winslow, then she would be—” she broke off, pacing the length of the room and back. “Blessed goddesses! We have problems here. If she’s truly a Winslow,” she repeated, nibbling on her thumb, “then she’s of royal blood.”

  “No!” Black Drayke grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You’re wrong. There are no royal-blooded witches left. Everyone knows that Queen Shy-Ryn’s bloodline died out during the Salem massacre. It’s recorded history.” He released her, stepping back. “There are no royal-blooded witches left. Well, except for Helayne and Kali, of course. And no warlock or waken is allowed near Kali. Her brothers think to shield her from me, but I will have my way with her.”

  For a moment, MeLora stared at him. An odd expression flitted across her face. “You know nothing, Black Drayke. There is royalty, then there is royal-blooded, supreme differences, believe me. This Winslow witch could even possibly be more than royal-blooded.”

  “More? How could she be more? Admit it. You’re getting get cold feet. Don’t think to back out on our plans. I will have the throne.”

  She shrugged.

  Black Drayke leaned back regarding her. “Why do you concern yourself with this bungler of magic?”

  MeLora breathed deep, taking control of her fears. “Three hundred and fifteen years ago, Elsbeth Winslow gave birth to a silver-haired baby girl who had great powers. Elsbeth and her three daughters vanished during the Salem massacre. Humans and witches alike assumed they’d been killed. If this witch is that daughter, then she’s more powerful than you and I.” She bit her lip. “I’ll be glad when all this is finished. I can’t believe, after all these years, just when I have things going the way I want them, a Winslow appears to cloudy the issue. I won’t have it!”

  Black Drayke took her hands and squeezed them. “You’re concerned about this Winslow witch and you shouldn’t be.”

  She jerked away from him. “She has to be a daughter, or a descendent of Elsbeth Winslow. Drat it. I can’t remember their names.”

  “Whose names?” Black Drayke asked. “Who is Elsbeth Winslow? You’re not making sense, love. And from what I’ve learned, this Winslow witch is a simpleton, a blonde bozo who bungles her magic and who’s an Impure. A royal would never be such a fool. You have no cause for worry.” He scowled. “Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy watching you.”

  She halted in front of him. Drayke pulled her close and rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

  “Some say the Winslow witches were more powerful than even a warlock,” MeLora declared.

  “It’s not possible for a witch to be more powerful than a warlock.”

  A slow smile curved her lips. “Believe what you will, but no one ever knew what became of Elsbeth Winslow. In the late 1600s, as you recall, witches everywhere were accused and confirmed guilty of Black Magick. Some believed Elsbeth chose to go into hiding. But to this day, she’s never been seen or found. Her body vanished right after her husband put a musket ball in her heart.”

  Black Drayke snickered. “Her own mate shot her through the heart? That’s priceless. But why are you so concerned? Her soul is most likely floating in limbo and will never find a path back to her body. Those kinds of wounds take centuries to heal.”

  “It’s been centuries,” she said irritated with his denseness. “She would have provided some form of safety and security for her three daughters, but like their mother, after that night, the girls were never seen again. The entire lot of them simply went missing.”

  “Perhaps they were hanged during the witch hunts.”

  “No.” MeLora shook her head. “They were small chi
ldren. I don’t recall any children being hanged, but I suppose it’s possible. They were chaotic times. Elsbeth would have no one left except her daughters. Saylym Winslow has to be a direct descendant of her.”

  “Then where has she been hiding all these years?” Black Drayke asked.

  MeLora shrugged. “Her mother must have bound her daughters’ powers, hexed the girls and hid them in the illumrof world. If that is true, then Saylym’s spirit must be severed from the bond that holds her before she acquires her full powers or we’ll have a big problem. ”

  Black Drayke snorted with disbelief.

  She frowned, thinking, puzzled by the turn of events. “A bungler, you say? That is probably her powers trying to break through. If Talon attempts to take her soul or succeeds mating with her, that could speed up the process. I think I shall check her out myself. If she’s Elsbeth’s daughter, then Saylym’s sisters won’t be far behind her. They may already be in Sanctuary. We must find them as well. If they combine their powers, they’ll become unstoppable. There’s no time to waste. I’ll meet the king this night. Let him become familiar with my face and body.”

  MeLora drew a black silk cloak over her shoulders. “You’ll take care of the queen and tomorrow, I’ll seek out this witch who bungles her magic.”

  Black Drayke raised his head, his dark eyes slashing her with cruelty. “I will not tolerate anything or anyone getting in the way of my plans to take the crown. I think I’m going to have to pay Saylym Winslow another visit. If she is of royal blood, then she must be dealt with immediately. If Talon mates with her, he could seize control of her powers or even breed her.”

  She nodded her agreement. “It’d be disastrous if she conceives a son with him.”

  “That’s right,” Black Drayke agreed. “No matter how many sons you pretend to present to King Darak, Talon’s offspring is heir to the crown one day, by right of Saylym’s royal blood. I will not allow this to happen.”