by Anthology
“Damn it, I should have suspected Fellows wasn’t working alone.”
“Fellows…you mean, there is a real Mackenzie Fellows?”
“There was,” Stephen said as he bent to pick up the bowl of red paste from the ground.
Was? As in…he was now dead? As in, maybe Stephen was the one who had killed him? Something in his voice made Gelsey certain Stephen had at least been present when Mackenzie met his end. Shit! Maybe Stephen really was a serial killer, maybe he was one of the bad guys, not the two people in front of them.
Okay, maybe not. The Joseph guy looked ready to rip out her throat as soon as he got across the red line and Glinda certainly wasn’t going to win any awards for congeniality. She’d demanded their destruction and was giving Gelsey the deep freeze, the witch.
Witch, she really was a witch, and so was Stephen, and…
“And so am I,” Gelsey muttered, her skin growing cold as the enormity of the past hour and a half pressed down upon her. She was a witch and Stephen knew about her power and he’d done something to her, something even more magical than fabulous sex. Somehow he’d taken away the fear, the slick voice of the demon in her head that had tempted her to the darkness for longer than she could remember.
But how? She remembered something, some ceremonial words and being asked a question she thought she’d said “yes” to, but the details were fuzzy.
“Here, spread the achiote on your palms. It helps protect against burns, in case your magic emerges with more strength than you anticipate.”
“In case my—”
“We’re going to have to fight them, there’s no other way.” Stephen threw the bowl to the ground and assumed a battle stance next to her on the blanket as Glinda’s attack on their safe little circle intensified. “We’ll do our best to overpower them with magic first, but if that doesn’t—”
“What do you mean overpower them with magic?” Gelsey rubbed the red paste onto her trembling hands. Great, just when she’d thought her heart couldn’t beat any faster. “I don’t know how to make my magic work, I wasn’t even sure I had any until—”
“Just focus on one intention, say, leveling Glinda there, while you hold your palms out in front of you.” Stephen tossed his hair out of his eyes, shooting her a slightly frustrated look that reminded her of his signature glare. “It isn’t that difficult really, just make sure—”
“Not that difficult?” she asked with a glare of her own. “Are you on crack? I have no idea—”
“Just make sure you don’t lose focus and—”
“I don’t have focus!” Gelsey yelled. “How can I lose—”
“Are you ever going to let me finish a Goddess-damned sentence?”
“I don’t know, are you ever going to let me finish one?”
“I just did.” He smiled, the bastard. “Now focus, darling. I’d really love to take you home and make love to you all night and that’s not going to happen if we’re dead.”
Gelsey was still trying to figure out a witty comeback to that when a loud popping sound suddenly split through the night. The air around them crackled with static electricity as Glinda and Joseph crossed over the boundary of the circle. Gelsey had about two seconds to prepare before Glinda ran at her with obviously wicked intent.
“Shit!” Gelsey screamed and lifted her hands, doing her best to focus on all kinds of ass-whooping for old Glinda, though at the moment she would much rather be kicking the tail of the man who had thrown her in the middle of this mess.
If they lived through the night, Stephen was going to have some explaining to do. A lot of explaining to do.
“You will die now, fool, for choosing the gray over the black.” Glinda fired off a round of blue fire in her direction while Joseph tackled Stephen to the ground.
Gelsey screamed, but thankfully her terror didn’t interfere with her magic. Dark pink fire surged from her hands, crashing into the blue and stopping it dead. Then slowly, as her concentration grew, her fire forced the flames back into Glinda’s hands. The witch fell to the ground with a wail of agony that only subsided when Gelsey sucked in a deep breath and fisted her hands at her sides, cutting off the flow of pink light.
Gelsey was sure she looked as shocked as the woman cringing on the ground before her, but did her best to play it off, turning her attention to a third enemy stepping from the shadows. She’d take care of this one and then help Stephen. He seemed to be handling himself, but he hadn’t won the battle yet. Just the idea that he might not be able to handle the larger, much scarier-looking Joseph by himself was enough to make Gelsey’s power throb inside her, anxious to take down this new threat. She couldn’t let anything happen to Stephen, not when she hadn’t even told him how she really felt, that she loved him too, no matter how insane that made them both.
She was lifting her hands when the new man fell to his knee at the edge of what remained of the line of red sand. “I’m a friend! My name is Warren. I’m here to help.”
“Is he a friend, Stephen?” Gelsey yelled over at Stephen, not opening her palms, but not dropping her hands either.
“Yes…damn it.” Stephen grunted as Joseph’s magic connected with his gut and sent him flying across the glen, landing with a groan at the base of one of the trees. “Took you long enough, Warren.”
“I don’t know, Stephen, your new bride seems to be doing a fine job of controlling the situation.” Warren laughed as he sent golden flame surging around Joseph. Stephen’s power joined his a moment later and it wasn’t long before Joseph fell to the ground with a moan, his eyes sliding closed as he lost consciousness.
Bride? Had the man really just said bride?
“My new bride is completely untrained.”
There is was, that word again. What the hell were they talking about?
“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you just now,” Stephen continued as he crossed to Glinda and hauled her roughly to her feet. “Go tell Cronos what you have seen here tonight and let him know the war is now over.” Glinda shot Gelsey one last frightened look and then scrambled to her feet and limped off into the darkness.
“What should I do with this one?” Warren asked, gesturing toward the unconscious Joseph. “Kill him?”
“It would probably be best. He’s a savage and not—”
“You are not going to kill that man,” Gelsey said, finally recovering her ability to speak. “And I am not your—your wife.”
“He would have gladly killed both you and I and any other Sambucus he could get his hands on,” Stephen said, turning his attention—and signature glare—in her direction. “And you are my wife, as agreed by the both of us.”
“What? I never agreed to—”
“I asked you the ceremonial questions and you answered, and I quote, ‘God, yes’,” Stephen said, his expression even more stormy. “You are my wife, Gelsey, I will have no argument on that point. The handfast was accomplished and the familiars of our coven have given their blessing. We are joined now, for the rest of our—”
Gelsey didn’t wait around to hear what else the madman who was her alleged husband might have to say, simply grabbed her skirt and tank top from the ground and turned and ran into the night, back toward the lights of civilization. She would get back to her simple rooms, lock the door behind her and pretend none of this had ever happened. That she’d never made love to the man of her dreams, that she’d never discovered the truth about her power and that she’d never thought—even for an instant—that she might have truly found the partner she’d been waiting for her entire life.
Stephen was a liar and a manipulator and probably a murderer and god knows what else. She would be better off without him. She believed that, despite the hot tears that began to stream down her face and the ache that settled deep in her heart.
* * * * *
The rest of the weekend passed with wretched normalcy, except, of course, that Dorothy didn’t come home meowing for her food, proving herself a traitor. Sunday morning dawned bright and b
eautiful. The Cowardly Lion stopped by to ask Gelsey if she wanted to come to brunch with him and the Scarecrow and one of the techie guys, but she refused. She wasn’t sure she was capable of Sunday brunch chitchat. And a part of her was waiting for the Tin Man to show up at her door to try to claim her as his wife and drag her off to his cave by her hair.
Or perhaps, in her more optimistic imaginings, offer to explain himself.
But the morning turned to afternoon and dinner came and went without a sign of her “husband”. If it weren’t for the rosy light she found she could still shoot from her palms with relative ease, Gelsey would have thought she had dreamed the evening before. Surely the way he’d made her feel was the stuff of dreams, fantasies she should have known could never be fulfilled.
She went to bed Sunday night with a horrible stomachache and woke up Monday dreading the final fittings for the last dress rehearsal. How could she be expected to function as normal when she felt like a completely different person? For the first time in her life, she had been able to sleep without the dark power invading her dreams. But instead of the blessing she’d always thought that would be, she simply felt…strange.
Who was she now? What did this new magic mean and how should she use it? Was she finally safe from the witches she now knew had been stalking her for years or was this the lull before the storm?
She had no answers, another thing to thank Stephen for.
“Just a minute,” Gelsey grumbled, tipping back her coffee and guzzling half the hot liquid down her throat. Her first appointment was early. Fabulous.
Well, they would be in for a surprise this morning. Their good-natured costume mistress was gone, replaced by a grumpy, miserable person who would probably end up sticking them with even more pins than usual.
“I’m coming!” Gelsey made no effort to keep the irritation out of her voice as the impatient knocking at the costume shop entrance came again. She crossed the room with three swift steps and flung open the door.
“No, you aren’t coming yet, but I hope to remedy that problem in the very near future.” Stephen stood in the hall, dressed in dark blue jeans and faded red t-shirt. His long hair was hanging loose around his shoulders and his dark eyes shone with the same sensual wickedness they had two nights past. The man looked good enough to eat.
Too bad she’d already had breakfast and was pretty sure she hated his guts.
“That’s sexual harassment.” She slammed the door in his face, but his hand shot out, keeping it from closing completely.
“I’m sorry, please, I—”
“Get out,” she said, motioning to the exit with one imperious finger as Stephen pushed his way inside.
“Please, Gelsey, I’m sorry.” His confident expression had vanished, replaced by what looked like genuine anguish. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I’m just— I’m no good at these things.”
“Get out. Now.” Gelsey willed herself not to soften. He’d made her wait, made her assume she’d been abandoned to figure the whole magic thing out on her own. He deserved a taste of his own medicine.
“We didn’t kill Joseph, we sent him home.”
“Good for you. Now get out.”
“I talked with the coven elders and arranged to stay the rest of the week to finish out the run of the show,” he said, voice slightly desperate. “I knew you wouldn’t want me to leave the rest of the cast in the lurch.”
“That was responsible of you,” she said, her tone civil but nothing more.
“And I…brought flowers.” He pulled at least two dozen deep, reddish-orange roses from behind his back. They were gorgeous, an unusual color she’d never seen, but immediately loved. “I had them flown in from California. They…reminded me of your hair.”
He looked so helpless, so worried, that Gelsey found her hand reaching for the roses without her conscious permission. “Thank you. They’re…lovely.” She spun toward the sink, fetching one of the vases the theatre kept handy, more to have something to do than any real driving need to get the flowers in water.
Stephen was here, with flowers, apologies and a hangdog expression. Did that mean he intended to woo her properly? Did she even want to be wooed properly? He’d lied to her, tricked her into some magical bonding business that sounded a whole lot like marriage and then taken his own sweet time coming to kiss and make up.
Kiss and make up, god, did she want to kiss and make up. No matter how angry and confused she still was, just the brush of his fingers against hers as he’d handed her the flowers made her skin tingle with awareness. Was her anger and frustration really worth losing the only man who had ever brought her body and heart to life the way Stephen had? Didn’t he at least deserve the chance to explain?
Gelsey shoved the flowers into the vase and turned to him, hands on her hips and what she hoped was a stern expression on her face. “All right, you have ten minutes. Start talking.”
And talk he did, telling her of the Sambucus coven and his mission to protect her from being claimed by a black magic coven with the handfasting ritual. Stephen told her he had been searching for her for nearly three years, ever since the first man assigned to her case had been killed by the Minos witches. He told her of his excitement once he’d finally found her, his joy when he realized that not only would they be an excellent magical match as foretold by the coven elders, but that he sensed they could be a love match as well.
“If you thought you were…falling in love with me,” Gelsey said, forcing the awkward words from her mouth, “then why did you act like you couldn’t stand me half the time?”
“I’m obviously an asshole.”
“Obviously.” Gelsey grinned despite herself.
Stephen smiled back and stepped a little closer. “And I was worried for your safety. There were numerous attacks during my first few weeks here and the damned cat seemed to be following you everywhere. I was sure you were being corrupted by black magic and it drove me insane, seeing it happen and not being able to step in and help you until the timing was right.”
“Until the time was right for this handfasting ritual?” He’d mentioned something about a Midsummer Rite, and giving her the mark of their coven, but she was only now starting to understand. “This magical ceremony that binds our auras together, forever?”
“For life,” he confirmed, looking sheepish. “It was the only way to protect you and I thought…well, I hoped that…”
“You hoped what?”
“I hoped you would be happy to be fasted with me. I adored you and you seemed to at least feel the same attraction and—” He cursed, and ran a frustrated hand through his thick hair. “I was a fool. I talked with Warren and several others and they all agree I was a bastard to continue the fasting ceremony without making damned sure you understood what was involved.”
“Yes, you were.” Gelsey moved closer, her heart thrilling to every word, no matter what common sense might have to say about it.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that,” he said, his jaw tightening and his voice growing firm. “But I am not sorry that you are alive and my wife, and not slave to the black magic of the Minos. Binding you to me was the only way I knew to protect you and I’m not sorry for—”
“Oh hell, I’m not sorry either.” Gelsey closed the last of the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Stephen’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
Screw common sense. She had the answer to her every fantasy in her arms and she wasn’t about to let him go.
Stephen moaned against her lips as his strong arms locked around her, hauling her into the air, pressing her tightly against him. Her breasts molded to the muscled planes of his chest and her legs parted of their own accord, locking behind his hips.
“I love you, ah chumman, you won’t be sorry. I swear it to you,” Stephen whispered against her lips as he pressed her back into the wall behind them.
“I love you too,” Gelsey said, cupping his face in her hands and looking deep into his eyes, making certai
n he heard the truth behind every word.
“And I love these skirts you wear.” He bunched her peasant skirt up around her hips as he spoke, baring her tiny black panties. No matter how angry she’d been, a part of Gelsey had obviously been hoping something like this would happen when she’d dug the silky scrap of fabric from the back of her drawer.
“I thought you found them ridicu—” She gasped as he moved his hand between them and slid fingers in to tease in and out of where she was already wet and ready.
“I was feeling a bit shy that day, if you can believe it. Apparently it brings out the asshole in me.” Stephen took her lips again, tongue tangling with hers as his fingers thrust slowly into her aching channel. God, she was already dying to feel him inside her. Just a single touch from this man, her husband, was equivalent to hours of foreplay from any other lover she’d known.
Gelsey reached for the close of his jeans, tearing at the buttons along his fly. “So you were pulling my pigtails?”
“Something like—Goddess, Gelsey.” He moaned as she reached into his boxers and found his aroused length. He was so hot and hard, but the skin covering his cock was one of the softest things she’d ever felt. She let her fingers play up and down, tracing the ridge where head became shaft, smoothing the pearl of pre-cum at his tip around and around.
“You’ve got to stop,” Stephen said as his hand found its way up her shirt and tugged her bra down, freeing her breast to his touch.
“I don’t want to stop.” Gelsey sighed in pleasure, arching into the fingers that plucked at her nipple.
“Want it or not, you had best stop unless you are ready to be fucked, wife.”
“I’m past ready, husband.” Gelsey smiled against Stephen’s lips as his laugh became a groan. Seconds later, her panties had mysteriously vanished and his cock was positioned at her entry and shoving inside, filling every inch of her, stretching her inner walls, driving into her pussy until he reached the end of her and then pushing just the slightest bit deeper.
“You feel—”
“Perfect,” Gelsey finished, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping her legs more tightly around him and pulling him even closer.