by Marta Szemik
It wasn’t Mira’s fault she attacked me; I’d deserved it. We’d had one of our arguments over the marking. How could the decision be so easy for her and not for me? Was it because she always made the right decisions and I the wrong ones?
I wanted to know who I was, instead of feeling empty. My soul lingered in a vacuum. I hated the nothingness inside my chest, despite my heart: a useless existence of a powerful shape-shifter. More than twenty years had passed. How long were the keepers expecting us to live in this endless oblivion? We’d finally decided the age we wanted to be; now we wouldn’t get older or younger, unless we wanted to. The only piece missing was who we were supposed to serve—the keepers or Aseret?
A rustle in the brushes below overpowered the hypnotizing chime of the millions leaves and drew my gaze to the ground three hundred feet below. I closed my eyes. The cracking of dry branches was distinct, yet the feet that broke them were delicate. Lucky twigs, I thought, surprised at my sudden need to see those feet.
The overpowering scent of red roses hit my nostrils, and without another thought, I dove off the cliff as if I were diving into a pool of water. Halfway down, I shifted into an eagle, spreading my wings to slow my momentum, then into a squirrel to jump from higher branches to lower ones, and then back into my human form just before reaching the forest floor.
Crouching, I scanned the bushes, then straightened, holding my breath. A ghost would have been louder. I couldn’t see anyone and perked up my ears like a hunting cougar, intent on finding the feet that brought me down to the ground level. She remained quiet. My nostrils flared as I inhaled the rosy aroma.
Behind me. I whirled around.
The woman hid behind a spruce. The wind sprinkled its needles onto my head.
“Who are you?” What I’d meant to be a command came out as a whisper.
“Please don’t hurt me.” She stepped out, her hands crossed at her chest, seeming afraid, but even if I wanted to hurt her, I had a feeling she could defend herself. Black hair spilled down her front in curls, contrasting with her white, sun-shy face. The wind gusted as if summoned, causing the smell of roses to intensify; I pictured them blooming around her, but I couldn’t see any.
“Why would I hurt you? Don’t be afraid.” I stepped forward.
“You’ll hurt me,” she said as if certain.
“I promise I won’t. And my promise is true. Who are you?”
“My name is Xela.”
“I’m Xander.” I licked my lips. My attraction was undeniable. My gaze slipped to her thighs as I wondered how strong they were. Was the laced see-through skirt meant to induce lustful thoughts? If it weren’t for the black shorts clinging to her hips, I’d have had her by now. She wasn’t a shifter, so when I saw her breasts perk up I knew it was a hormonal change as blood flow through her veins increased. I grinned as she sauntered toward me. She accepted my assertion.
“Hello, Xander.” Her voice sang, drawing me in. The roses bloomed again, their perfume settling on my tongue. Bracelets dangling from her left wrist twirled down her arm toward her elbow when she lifted her arms to gather her hair into a bun. I followed the movement of each finger. Her neck was longer than I first perceived, and the low-cut, fitted tank top seemed smaller than before. A stray curl caressed her face. She lowered her hands, and before the bracelets slid toward her palm, I saw the mark.
She followed my gaze to her wrist and its oval imprint. “That’s why I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” I took a step closer.
“Yes.” Her voice reminded me of the soft whir of a hummingbird’s wings. Her full lips pouted slightly, bringing my eyes back to her hazel ones.
“Who are you?” I asked out of astonishment, not fear.
“I’m a witch.”
I lifted a brow. “All alone?”
She stopped inches from me. “Yes.”
I knew my destiny was with her—she was the one I’d been waiting for. The witch held power over my body and my mind, and I liked it; I wouldn’t even care if she’d used a spell to make me feel this way, though I knew she hadn’t. She pulled me from the loss of oblivion and made me feel like I belonged. Her mere presence made me long for a woman as I’d never longed before. I had to take her and be with her in every way a man could. And it would have to be soon, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could contain the desires that centered in one spot on my body.
“Do you need something?” she asked, as if reading my mind. Her shyness was gone and the sparkle in her eyes now glowed with lust, swirling promises I longed to fulfill.
“Only you.” I wanted to touch her but held back—not out of fear of her, but fear she’d reject me because I was no one. I hadn’t been marked.
“Come with me.” She took my hand. The heat of her sphere almost burned my wrist, but I didn’t pull away. Our fingers intertwined.
“Where are we going?” I asked, though I didn’t care where she took me. She could drag me all the way to hell, and I’d follow.
“To my lair.”
She twirled her finger as if she were stirring a pot. The forest swirled, and the green, earthy scents of pine needles and moss mixed with her rosy aroma. The space to my right became a rippled hole as she opened a portal. Although a difficult skill to master, it wasn’t uncommon for a supernatural to use one to travel through time and space. Xela faced me in the vortex, holding my hands. Then she rested her head on my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her as we flew through the time hole.
When the spinning stopped, we were in an underground dungeon hung with drying herbs and shelves holding pots and jars filled with ingredients both crumbled and gooey. Unlike Ma’s hill—my home—this place seemed lonely. I shivered despite the heat. Xela was isolated in this lair just as I was isolated from the world. We were so alike, yet different at the same time. I didn’t know her, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was needing Xela the way I needed air. Ma wouldn’t approve; I knew that the minute I saw the maiden, but what Ma didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
When I thought about Ma, the scent of roses intensified, and this time I saw them, blooming in one corner of the rough-hewn room. Xela twirled her finger, and the blossoms released their aroma, intoxicating me again. I knew magic when I saw it, but I didn’t have to be magically intoxicated by this beauty.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, aware she’d used a spell to beckon me in. I would have come with her anyway.
“You’ll leave if I don’t.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“All right.” She lifted her hand, palm toward the bushes, and the perfume disappeared. The flowers remained, and she turned back to me. “You know I’m a witch and you know I’m not a good one.”
“So?”
“You like a bad witch?” she asked.
I loved the teasing. It felt as if my feet moved by themselves as I stepped closer to feel her breath on my face. Our eyes locked as I grinned. “I like a very, very bad witch.”
“Good. Because that’s all I can be.” She lifted her arm. The glowing mark had faded to resemble a tattoo. “Why aren’t you marked yet?”
“I’ve been trying to be marked, but I haven’t seen the promise of the other side, just the sphere.”
“You know, there’s something good about being bad,” she murmured.
“That’s what I thought.” I tangled my finger into a strand of her hair, then pulled at the twig holding the locks together on top of her head. The curls tumbled to her shoulders and bosom.
“When you’re marked, at least you belong. Your soul is not stuck.”
“My sister would disagree.” My eyes remained on the dark glory of her hair.
“Sister?” She raised her brows and moved closer.
I backed up to sit on a wooden stool against the wall. “Twin sister.”
She lifted her hands to stroke my arms. “Is she as strong as you are?” Her hands tightened around my biceps.
As a shape-shifter, I could
look the way she wanted me to look. Hell, I didn’t mind at all my Hollywood surfer look. Though I hadn’t shifted to that just to make her happy, all I wanted to do was please her.
“She is,” I answered. “But I don’t think you want to talk about my sister.”
“No, I don’t. I’d much rather have you.”
At this point, Xela had her legs wrapped around my waist. When she brushed her hand across my cheek, the overwhelming lure of strength and belonging tore at my insides. The heat from her palm flowed straight to my heart, sending comfort through my body.
I began to doubt Mira’s reason for wanting the water mark. Why did she insist so much? After all, it wouldn’t be our decision anyway. Our fate was already set by the keepers. Did she know something I didn’t? No, she would tell me. But she wasn’t as surprised to see Eric in the underworld as I had been. She met him before today. Sneaky brat! She was swayed by the good. But could I blame her? Here I was, being swayed the other way by Xela. My chances to kill someone with a black witch at my side increased. I didn’t mind her influence though. Let’s level out the playing field—one good, one bad. Let there be balance.
For goodness’ sake, I didn’t want to think about my sister now.
“Let me take those worries away.” Xela pressed her fingers to my temples, and my thoughts blanked into nothingness. All that remained was the pull toward Xela. I had to be with her. She pressed her lips to mine, her breasts massaging my chest. I parted my lips.
Deciding I would be the one to control the witch, I stood, holding her bottom, and carried her to the bearskin rug spread before the fireplace. I didn’t let her pull her mouth away from mine as I lay her down. We explored each other.
Finally, I allowed her to breathe.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Xander.”
“And me for you.” I pressed into her again, knowing where our closeness would lead—completely into her, where we could share the heat of our bodies. My torso molded against her front, and I knew I would let her do with me as she pleased and satisfy her more than once as well.
Her breathing became heavier as I tore open her tank top and lifted her skirt. Her hands flew to my jeans. I shifted my hips, narrowing my bones by an inch so she could pull the jeans off easily. Noticing the change, she smiled against my lips.
I pulled away to look at her face before crushing my mouth against hers.
Xela twined her fingers into my hair and pulled me closer. I saw a need in her eyes that matched mine—not only the need to be with someone, but the need to share souls.
I’d had women before, but not like this. Human women didn’t understand me and never could. Witches with a water mark seemed too proper. They constantly wondered whether they were breaking the rules, a major turn-off. Even though she belonged to the underworld, Xela seemed as lonely and confused as I was and didn’t mind giving in to the lust. She let me explore her completely without second-guessing. I would share my soul with hers from this moment forward. There was no other way.
I lowered my body onto hers, caressing her neck and breasts with my tongue. She arched her pelvis and I was inside her, fitting as if she’d been cast only for me.
We spent the rest of the night connected, each kiss more passionate than the first. Eventually we fell asleep cocooned under the bearskin. For the first time in my life I knew there was no other place I wanted to be.
When I woke, Xela’s naked body nestled against mine, her head resting on my chest. I kissed her forehead. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi.” She smiled.
And it wasn’t the smile of a wicked witch. Witches were marked at birth, their fate decided for them. It didn’t matter who you wanted to be and where you wanted to live; once bound, a witch belonged to the underworld or to the one above. Xela was cursed.
The curve of her smile lessened. “You’re going to leave.”
“How do you know?” Grimacing, I propped my head.
“I’m a witch.” Xela touched my shoulder to lie down.
“Will I be back?”
“I hope so.” She moved to lie on top of me, her hands resting on my chest. “I’m sorry I’m not who you’d like me to be.”
“You’re exactly who I want you to be.” I kissed the tip of her nose.
“I don’t see us together in the future.”
“Stop looking into the future, and enjoy the now.” I wrapped my arms around her nakedness, and her body repositioned exactly where I wanted it to, at my centre.
The fire in the pit suddenly surged higher, as if fuelled by oxygen. Xela glanced toward it. “I think someone is looking for you.”
I closed my eyes. Mira. She was worried.
“I can vortex you back alone. If I come with you, she’ll fear me.”
I smirked. Xela knew when my mind wandered to my sister. “How can I find you again?”
“Just think my name and I’ll hear you,” she answered.
“There’s a problem with that. I’ll be thinking your name the whole time we’re apart.”
She bit her lower lip. “Then imagine what we can do next time you’re here.”
I raised my brows. “I’ll be thinking about that all the time.”
She giggled. How could someone so delicate and innocent be bound to the underworld? Life for Xela couldn’t be more specious than mine, with my soul stuck in the void between good and evil. But at least she knew where her soul belonged.
Xela rose and strolled toward the mantel. She didn’t cover herself. I propped myself on my elbow and studied her naked back, her perfectly curved silhouette, her round buttocks like the lower half of an hourglass. My witch picked up a small box and brought it over. Her arm brushed mine as she settled beside me, sending pleasant shivers through my body.
“Take this white gem,” she instructed, lifting the lid of the box. “When you want to see me, squeeze it and I’ll bring you back.”
“I’ll squeeze until my hand bleeds.”
“Don’t do that. Your blood is precious. I could use it to make you feel things you’ve never felt.”
I smirked. “You already did that, last night.”
“Ah, that’s what you think.”
I loved her teasing.
She was the perfect woman for me: charming yet dangerous; possessing striking beauty, power, and control. I bet once Xela decided who she wanted to lure into the underworld, there was no escape—although I doubted there had been many men before me. They’d chicken out; after all, she’s a black witch powerful enough to keep one in the underworld forever.
Xela complimented me in more ways than I ever thought a witch could, and not just in the way the curves of her swaying body against mine. That observation would prompt some to call me a pig—actually, some women have called me that—but I didn’t care. Was it my fault I couldn’t control my attraction to the well-endowed?
I dressed languorously, trying to lengthen my stay by leaning closer to Xela to steal deep, wet kisses and caress her naked body under the lacy black undergarments. Her eyes sparkled with magic as they rolled from blackness to her brown hue when in ecstasy, but it wasn’t bad magic. Xela’s paranormal powers conjured electricity in my veins.
Could I be in love? That quickly?
There were so many wonderful things in life that happened quickly: falling stars, the constantly changing seasons, the flow of water, new life. Why not love?
“I’ll be back soon.” I lifted her again so she could wrap herself around my body like an anaconda.
“Soon is not fast enough,” she purred into my ear, pushing her fingers through my hair. Her words flowed through me like a potion she stoppered, and she pressed her lips to mine. I continued to hold her even when the room began spinning.
When it stopped, I found my arms empty, feeling suddenly unfilled and lost, wishing I could stay in her lair forever. My feet were planted by the spruce where I’d first met Xela. Shifting into a vampire, the fastest creature on Earth, I sped toward the hill.
I was at i
ts entrance in less than two minutes and stopped to sniff like a dog checking markings around the perimeter of his home. Great, lover boy is here. I pushed my palm against the trunk of a tree; it recognized my touch and the hidden doorway opened in the hill. The aroma of peppermint and rosemary welcomed me home as I stepped inside.
“Hi, Ma.” I kissed her soft cheeks.
She smiled unsurprised, always aware when I’d be home. Ma walked toward the kitchen, her bulked hips swaying the ruffles on the skirt along the floor. Her usually braided hair was pinned in a bun, and her hum, muffled by a tired breath like her lungs were too small to inhale, mysterious.
Mira jumped out of Eric’s lap as if she’d been burned. Before she could greet me, Ma said, “I need you in the kitchen, Xander.” Looking at me from below her brows, she smiled.
She knows. Of course she does.
“Five minutes?” I asked.
“Sure, five minutes,” she murmured, but her tone suggested she’d said, “Five minutes ain’t gonna get you out of the trouble you’re in, young man.”
I hoped the five minutes would be long enough for me to compose a good fib—a very good fib—but I doubted days of thinking would be long enough to hide something this big from Ma.
“Where were you?” Mira asked, suddenly sitting at the opposite end of the room.
“Don’t pretend you and lover boy there just met.” I waggled my finger between her and Eric.
“You know.”
“I figured.” I sighed, plopping down on the couch.
But who was I to judge? After all, I’d just spent the night with a witch. A black witch. “You shouldn’t have worried.”
Mira’s nose wiggled. “I smell roses. Where did you go to find such a sharp scent?”
I kept my eyes away from hers, knowing as soon as my sister looked into them, she’d see right through me. “I went to Pinedale. Their rose gardens are in full bloom at this time of year.”