mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate

by Linsey Hall

  Gods, how he wanted to know her like that. To see her like that. To feel her.

  She continued to move against his thigh, her motions becoming less graceful and more desperate. He withdrew his mouth from the smooth skin of her neck and glanced up to see her face twisted into a mask of beautiful desperation. She bit her full lower lip, her brow furrowed as she tried to reach her peak. Low, needy sounds came from her throat. Frustrated sounds.

  Wild desire surged through him. Desire to make her come. To help her reach that peak.

  He swept a hand over her trousers and called upon the aether, envisioning her trousers disappearing. A second later, her legs gleamed in the firelight, bare.

  She jerked. “What? No, you can’t—”

  He slipped his hand into her white cotton panties and groaned at the feel of her silky flesh. Wet heat met his fingertips.

  “Yes,” she moaned, dropping her head back. Her legs parted.

  His gaze was riveted to her white cotton panties. The way his big hand disappeared down the front was obscene. Nearly uncontrollable pleasure surged through him. He wanted to tear the white cotton off with his teeth and plunge inside of her, feel her close tightly around him.

  He shuddered and pulled himself back, focusing on the incredible feeling of her pussy beneath his fingertips. So wet and slick, opening for him like the loveliest flower. His mouth watered to taste her, to plunge deep or flick over her clitoris. Anything. Just to have his lips and tongue on her. To taste her.

  But later. He’d waited so long for this, he wanted to savor every moment.

  Her hips jerked when he found her little clitoris. She cried out when he began to rub in small circles. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck. Trusting him.

  She probably shouldn’t trust him. He should stop this.

  But there was no way in hell he would. He wanted her too badly. Needed to feel her orgasm too badly. To know what it was to enter her, if only with his fingers.

  With a growl, he slipped his fingers down, seeking her entrance. She was slick and ready, her skin silk. Slowly, savoringly, he slipped a finger inside her heat, groaning at the feeling of her clenching around him.

  “Malcolm!” Sofia shifted to give him better access, moving her hips on his hand, seeking more.

  Gods, how he wanted to see her. To gaze upon her dark curls and the pink flesh between her thighs. She rode his hand, whimpering in his ear.

  “You want more?” he asked.

  “Yes. Now, Malcolm.” She bit the side of his neck. Pleasure tore through him, making his cock jerk and his muscles clench.

  “Greedy.” He withdrew his finger. She moaned and bit him again. He almost came in his trousers. Bloody hell, he liked how she gave direction.

  Unable to help himself, he slipped his hand from her panties and slipped his fingers into his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he sucked on them. He couldn’t get enough of her taste.

  He worked his hand beneath the white cotton and pushed two fingers inside of her, his hips thrusting as he felt her wet heat close around him. She moaned against his ear as he began to thrust, being sure to press forward against the sensitive pad of flesh within her.

  Need roared through him as she began to move her hips, fucking herself on his fingers.

  “Malcolm. Malcolm.” Her anguished voice sounded at his ear, her breathing hard. She was desperate to come, her body nearly vibrating with need. It ignited his own.

  As much as he wanted to drag this out, to feel her moving against him forever, he wanted to feel her orgasm more. His thumb found her clitoris and began to make small circles, increasing the speed and pressure as she begged him for more.

  When she cried out and her pussy began to clench around his thrusting fingers, he imagined that it was his cock within her. He tried to draw it out, to make it last. Her thighs trembled violently as her muscles grasped him.

  But when she ground herself down against his hand, demanding him deeper, he broke.

  He had to fuck her. To feel her around him. Tear off her panties and flip her over and thrust into her tight sheath. He’d make her his. He’d make her know who was gripping her hips and pounding into her. She’d come around him, a dozen times. Until she knew she belonged to him.

  The tremors of her orgasm faded and he removed his hand, going to tear off her panties and make his fantasy a reality. Need tore through him, violent and demanding. He had to have her.

  He had her panties gripped in his fists when he glanced up to see her barely supporting herself on the desk. Her muscles were lax from pleasure, her eyelashes resting against her cheeks and her dark curls falling around her shoulders.

  Malcolm dropped his hands and stepped back, his chest heaving. He had to get control of himself. She looked exhausted. She’d just been tortured by the High Witches.

  Now wasn’t the time for what he wanted. When he finally had her, he wanted her enthusiastic, not exhausted.

  But fates, his cock ached. Malcolm spun away. Stalked to the hearth. When the golden flame didn’t calm him, he went to the whisky on the far shelf and poured himself three healthy fingers.

  He swigged the whisky, trying to calm his racing heart and raging cock. His hand shook slightly as he squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to get the intoxicating sight of Sofia out of his mind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Consciousness came slowly to Sofia. Her body still pulsed, aftershocks of pleasure streaking outward from her pussy.

  The hard desk beneath her was the first thing she registered. Then the cold air on her thighs.

  Holy shit. She wasn’t wearing pants. She called her wand from the aether and waved it over her legs. Jeans appeared.

  Bastard!

  She turned to see Malcolm leaning against a bookshelf, a glass of whisky in his hand. His golden gaze met hers, his face impassive.

  Reality crashed back.

  Holy shit. She’d let him take her pants off and now he watched her like he didn’t give a shit. Of course he didn’t give a shit. He never really had.

  But she did. Her heart pounded and her breath came short. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air through the panic that welled in her chest. The hurt.

  She still cared way too much. She’d never been any good at casual sex. She wouldn’t have let him do those things to her if she didn’t still care for him.

  Of course she still cared. The way her heart felt like it was tearing in two confirmed that.

  Rage and pain lit a fire in her chest that threatened to consume her. She looked at the blazing hearth and realized one very important thing.

  She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t be around him, not when she still felt this way and he so clearly did not.

  And it didn’t even matter if he cared. He was a fucking warlock! He could love her to the ends of the earth and fate would conspire to tear them apart. He’d chosen that for them.

  Even if no one in her village was strong enough to help her get the Grimoire, she could find someone. It wasn’t as hopeless as he said. She could definitely get the book.

  “You know what, Malcolm? Forget it. I don’t need your help. Thanks for the orgasm, but I’m out.” She just had to find Kitty and scram.

  Malcolm surged away from the bookshelves he’d been leaning against, his glare ominous. “The hell you are.”

  “This was a mistake. It was supposed to be just a kiss and it turned into a hell of a lot more.” Like me with no pants.

  “You wanted it.”

  She growled. Cocky bastard. “Fuck. You. You’re not the most powerful person I know. I can get help elsewhere.”

  She turned and stalked to the door. Kitty appeared in the doorway a second later and trotted over to her. Once Kitty had leaned up against her side, Sofia closed her eyes and focused on her home.

  Within a second, she felt the familiar tug of the aether.

  Home, here I come.

  Then it stopped. Like a wall had shot up.

  Her eyes flared ope
n and darted to Malcolm. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Blocking the aether. You’re not leaving.”

  “What the hell do you mean, I’m not leaving?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like.” He strode toward her, his gaze intense and his dark hair falling over his brow. So damned handsome.

  And she hated him.

  Fates, what had she gotten herself into?

  “You’re staying with me. At least until this is all over.” His voice was rough, possessive.

  Fuck that shit! She drew her wand from the aether and flung her arm out toward him, sending a lightning bolt into his chest.

  He stumbled backward, then growled and surged forward, grasping her wrist and lowering it.

  So freaking strong! His magic and his body. She didn’t stand a chance against him.

  Malcolm pulled her toward him, looming over her. Her heart threatened to break her ribs.

  “You can’t just kidnap me!”

  “I think I have.”

  She struggled to break free, but he held her firm. “Fuck you, Malcolm. You don’t even seem to give a shit!” Her breath was heaving and she knew she had crazy eyes. She didn’t care. He freaking deserved it.

  “Don’t give a shit? Of course I care. Of course I want you.”

  She almost growled at him. “Kidnapping isn’t a great way to woo a girl.”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “Maybe. But it’s the best weapon in my arsenal, so I’ll use it.”

  “Bastard. So suppose I stay here, trapped in your creepy castle—” It actually wasn’t that creepy, but she was pissed. “—what happens to my village? You help me save it?”

  He nodded. “For a price.”

  “What? You were just trying to convince me that I needed your help.”

  “And you thought I’d offer it for free? I’m a mercenary, Sofia. I have been for nearly four hundred years. Of course my help isn’t free.”

  She seethed, grinding her teeth until she thought they might crack. Bastard. Every awful thing he did now made her realize how stupid she’d been to ever be hurt by him. He deserved her rage, not her tears.

  “You need my help,” he said. “And you’re trapped here, by the way.”

  “I could fight you.” She gripped her wand tight.

  “You’d lose. Right now, I’m your best bet. Agree to another favor, and I’ll help you save your village.”

  “Favor? Another kiss?”

  “No.”

  “More?” Her mind raced. She hated the idea. And loved it, just a little bit. The anger only stoked her desire. She was sick.

  “Maybe. You liked the first favor.”

  “Bastard!”

  He shrugged.

  “Let go of my arm.” Her whole body vibrated with anger. She couldn’t stand next to him for another second.

  He dropped his hand. She stalked to the other side of the room and turned her back to him, gazing out one of the big windows. Her reflection stared back. The color in her cheeks was high, her gaze bright. Kitty pressed herself against Sofia’s calf, her presence warm and comforting.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  She tried to aetherwalk one more time, straining to send herself home.

  Nothing.

  She’d never known anyone to be able to block another from aetherwalking. It was possible, of course, but took great power.

  Which Malcolm had. There was no disputing that he was strong. And ruthless. He was willing to help—for a price.

  But in return… Could she grant the favor? Something physical, she was sure.

  The years had left Malcolm cold, selfish, and damaged. One minute he looked at her like he couldn’t get enough of her, the next, his gaze was arctic. Calculating. What had his life been like, that he’d turned into this?

  Dark and lonely, no doubt. Power couldn’t keep one warm. He’d had centuries to learn that.

  Sofia squeezed her wand tight. She wouldn’t feel bad for him. He’d chosen this life. She’d tried to offer him the opposite. Love. Partnership.

  He’d chosen power and become a cold, broken beast.

  But he’d thrown himself in front of the High Witch’s lightning for her. That had been…unexpected. He would protect her, which meant that even if he’d kidnapped her, at least he didn’t intend to harm her.

  And he lit her on fire. When he’d been kissing her, he’d wanted her to feel pleasure. No question. He’d liked making her feel good and he’d been immensely skilled. Everything she’d liked, he’d noticed and done more of it.

  Maybe it was an ego thing?

  Perhaps—and there was no doubt he had a huge ego—but it hadn’t felt like that. No one had ever made her come that hard before. Or had made her come without expecting the same in return.

  Why?

  She drew a blank, then shivered at the idea of staying with him, at the thought of whatever his next favor might be.

  Not that she had much choice in whether or not to stay with him. If she fought him with everything she had, he might let her go. A fragment of the old Malcolm had to be inside of him.

  But could she risk it?

  His help would be invaluable. And though his demand for a favor pissed her the hell off, it intrigued her as well.

  A boulder sat on her chest, but the situation was clear. She turned to Malcolm. “Fine. I’ll stay without fighting. I’ll pay your favor. But in return, you will do everything you can to help me save my village. Everything.”

  His gaze lit with satisfaction as he nodded. He didn’t vow it or promise to stand by his end of the deal as a normal person might, but that was for the best. A warlock couldn’t. Fate would intervene if he did and then it’d all be pointless.

  She’d have to trust him. The idea chilled her skin. But it was the best she had right now. “Do you know anyone in Salem we can go to for help?”

  “No. First, I think you need to consider moving your village.”

  She blinked. “Move it? I thought you were going to help me.”

  “I am. Saving your people is your priority, correct? This ensures the High Witches can never get them. Moving your village might be best. Disbanding, even better.”

  “So you think you can’t get the book?”

  “I can get the bloody book. But more than that, I want you do be done with paying tributes to the High Witches. Since I can’t break that curse or deal or whatever it is you have worked out with them, removing the reason for your labors seems like the best option.”

  “No! Never. It’s the only all-Mythean town in South America. And Central America. Mytheans need it! The ones who can pass for human could go elsewhere, maybe, but it would destroy their livelihoods. But the ones who can’t pass? They’d be screwed. There aren’t enough all-Mythean settlements. There’s no way we can move. The magic that hides the village is too ancient and too great to recreate. The village would be completely destroyed, my people scattered. Many of them have been there for generations. They helped build the town and they would die before leaving.” Tremors shook her as she considered his words. Kitty pressed up against her leg, purring like a motor boat.

  “Shhh, calm yourself. Everything is all right.” Malcolm’s voice was soothing. He stepped toward her and she immediately stepped backward. He pulled to a stop.

  Why was he suddenly being so kind? His voice had completely changed. Did he still care for her a bit? Or was he working another angle? Trying to lure her with the promise of help and kindness?

  “We’ll find the information we need to get the Grimoire,” Malcolm said. “That shan’t be a problem.”

  She nodded, forcing away her speculation. Salem was like Edinburgh and Cartagena. There was a huge Mythean population living secretly amongst mortals. They’d be able to find info about the Salem Coven and where they lived and worked. They just had to be clever about it.

  “It’s too late to go now,” he said. “Nearly two and you’re tired. We’ll go in the morning.”

  She frowned. Sh
e itched to get started, but he was right. She was almost shaking from exhaustion—mostly from the High Witch’s lightning but also from what he’d done to her.

  “Fine. We leave in eight hours. Where do I sleep?” She gave him a hard look. “Not with you.”

  “Take your pick of the rooms above.”

  She nodded and turned from him, desperate to find some quiet and space for herself. His gaze burned into her back as she left, sending unwelcome heat across her skin.

  “We sure know how to get into it, huh, Kitty?” she asked as she made her way down the hall. Her mind kept racing with everything that was at stake. Not just her village, but she’d be spending more time with Malcolm.

  She’d never anticipated that. She didn’t even know how to handle it.

  She’d just have to do her best to ignore him. She had a village to save. Her home. She could do this. She had to do this.

  Kitty led the way up the sweeping staircase. The wide wooden steps gleamed beneath her feet. Malcolm either employed an army of house elves or he used magic to keep the place clean.

  Given the isolation he seemed to bask in, she’d guess the latter.

  Sofia reached the top and debated whether to turn left or right. Both hallways were identical, from what she could see. Wide corridors, the walls of each were plastered with priceless art. At least she assumed it was priceless. Art wasn’t really her thing. Maybe it would have been if she’d had time to get a hobby, but taking care of Bruxa’s Eye occupied all her time.

  She shrugged and turned left, choosing the first door. It opened to reveal an opulent sitting room. Green brocade upholstered mahogany settees and chairs.

  A door on the left wall of the room stood opened.

  A bedroom? She entered and crossed the soft rug. Kitty stopped and dug her claws in, scratching. No doubt it was a priceless antique.

  “Good work, Kitty.”

  Kitty purred and Sofia grinned. Malcolm could afford to fix it. Hell, a wave of his hand and a shot of magic could spiff it right up.

  As she’d thought, the door led to a beautifully appointed bedroom. An enormous canopied bed occupied the space, its green silk drapes hung in elegant folds. The fire in the hearth burst to life as soon as she crossed the threshold.