by Multiple
My curves and valleys fit against him perfectly, like a baby against his mother. His fingers lingered on the edges of the bra, then he rolled me to my side to unclasp it, lifting it away and tossing it to rest in the grass. “I remember this,” he said, cupping a breast reverently, like a chalice. He leaned in, and I knew where he was going but not how it would feel, so when his mouth captured that tender spot, I could not stop myself from arching up and crying out.
His fingers spread across my ribs as he moved from one side to another. My hips began to move against him, naturally and without my conscious effort. His lips were hot now, feverish against the hollow of my belly. He unsnapped my jeans and slid them open.
I lurched into him again, every point of me on fire, a fierce burn that I had no idea how to quench. He tugged on the jeans, easing them over my hips, crossing my abdomen with nipping kisses along the lace of my panties.
I kicked the ground to knock off my shoes, and the jeans worked their way down across my knees. With a sharp pull, he got them past my ankles and another article of my clothing lay forgotten in the grass.
Caleb came back to my mouth, sliding his body along mine as he made his way up. The jeans scraped against my thighs with delicious friction, exciting me to yet another height. “I want you to hurry,” I whispered.
“No way,” he said, smiling against my lips.
My hands gripped his sides as he settled between my legs. My ankles automatically crossed on top of him, locking him against me. I lifted my hips, seeking contact. He braced himself on his elbows over me, his mouth in my hair, and gave me what I asked for, hard rocking thrusts of his jeans against my thin panties.
I wanted to scream with the need for him to move faster, and I grabbed his hair, bringing his face back to mine. I kissed him hard, tongue seeking his mouth, and sucked at him, pushing his head into me.
He growled, low in his throat, and I felt him shift, matching my need. But he controlled himself, kissing my shoulder and pulling away to slide his hand across my body to rest against the silk underwear, fingers kneading the heat between my legs.
“Caleb,” I said, more pleading than passionate, and so he moved forward, slipping his hand inside the panties and placing a finger where I wanted him to go.
A million stars exploded from the contact. I clutched at him, needing him to move faster, to finish out something I couldn’t quite grasp. Deeper inside me he reached, adding another finger, somehow knowing where to touch. I writhed against his hand, holding on to him like driftwood in a storm. He leaned in, his mouth back on my breast, and everything shattered, sensation splintering through me like breaking glass. I could hear my voice, saying his name and other things, but the pulsing pleasure drowned it all out. I sank back down into the grass as though I had been floating above it, feeling calmer. I knew about orgasm, but no longer had any memory of it before now. My breathing slowed, and Caleb withdrew his hand, leaning in to kiss me lightly on the lips again.
“How was that?” he asked, and I pushed at him, a little embarrassed. He knew what it had been like for me. He pushed his jeans down, kicking them off to join mine. I ran my finger along the edge of the elastic of his boxers, more anxious than I should have been. Maybe I should have kept at least one memory.
Caleb took my hand and wrapped it around him, long and hard beneath the cotton. His breathing sped up, and I did as he had, reaching inside the cloth to touch him, to make him long for it as he’d done for me.
He closed his eyes as I found his rhythm and pushed the boxers down with my free hand. I shifted to kneel next to him, and finally let go to pull them all the way off. The moonlight was dim, casting only a feeble light across his body. He was perfect, shadows and hollows, lean muscle and strength. I wrapped my hands around him again, but he clasped my fingers, stilling them, breathing in and out, regaining his control.
He pulled me down to lie on him, the panties still a barrier between us. He eased them down, cupping my bare bottom now, and tossed them aside. The sensation of being fully in contact was so heady I felt dizzy. I think he felt the same, as he held my face with both hands, as if trying to focus on me. “You are the most beautiful thing,” he said. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I saw you in that portal.”
I nodded, unable to speak. He rolled us together until I lay on my back. “Let me look at you.” He sat up, running his fingers along my body, shoulder to belly to knee, pausing on key places. “I’ll never forget seeing you like this.” He bent over me, letting his lips trace the places his hands had been, then separating my knees and opening me wide with his tongue.
Shards of pleasure splintered through me again, and my newfound calm quickly spiraled back into need. I grabbed his head and brought him back up to me until he lay over my body and I could feel him hot and urgent, exactly where I wanted him to be.
He reached between us, and then there he was, slipping inside, and the contact stole my breath. I closed my eyes, thinking how amazing a first time could be without the pain, the rending of tissue, and how lucky I was to have been chosen by him.
I was already so close to another peak that it took only a few strokes to push me over the top again. He was new to this, and as soon as I tightened around him, I felt everything go warm and flushed. He clutched my shoulders, groaning with my name. I relaxed beneath him and let him slow down, pressing his rhythm on his own time until he laid his forehead on the grass, his cheek pressed against mine.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He nodded against me. After another moment, he withdrew and rolled to my side, gathering me up against him. “We’ve tested this every way we could test it, haven’t we?”
“I think so.”
“And the potion?”
“I’m not thinking of it now.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’m going to love you all my life.”
“Yes, I think we will.” I could feel it running both ways, emotion traveling the circuit like the electric passion had when we’d first touched each other.
“You think the golden biddies will let me sneak into your window?”
“My portal will always be open for you.”
“Two years.”
“We’ll find a way.” Two years with nothing but those golden girls would make me want to tear my hair out.
The sky began to brighten. “Did you order a sunrise?” I asked.
He glanced up at his conjured night. “No.” Then he smiled. “It’s you.”
I lifted my head to look at my body curled against him. “I’m yellow.”
“You’re golden.”
The glow was soft, like a child’s night-light. “This would totally freak out my chemistry profs.”
Caleb laughed. “I think you could probably show them a thing or two.”
I tried to order my body to go back to normal, but the glow persisted. “How do you turn this thing off?”
“Maybe we have to wear out the batteries.” He pressed his hips against me, and I looked at him, aghast.
“Already? Aren’t you a resilient young enchanter?”
“It’s all definitely for you.” And this time, he pulled me on top of him.
28: Melancholy
We snuck back into the house the old-fashioned way, through the dungeon corridors and up the stairs to the back wall of the kitchen pantry. We arrived in the overstuffed closet only to bump directly into Deja, who was reaching for a box of saltines. “I get peckish when I have to wait around for amorous matches,” she said.
My face flushed red as she led us out into the bright lights of the main room. Ellondra looked back and forth from me to Caleb. “You’re not with child already, are you? Nasty business, training a Golden, and being pregnant would make it a hardship.”
Deja placed her hands on my belly. “Nope. Still good.” She shook her head at us. “Be watchful of the moon. Your phase is the cheshire. Avoid tempting it during training.”
“We’ll cast a spell to make them argue during the cheshire moon,”
Ellondra said. “We’ll set it to last for twenty cycles.”
“Ladies!” Genevieve said. “Please! Can’t we discuss this AFTER their binding ceremony?” She grabbed Caleb by the collar and dragged him toward his room. “You have school to finish.” She flashed the Goldens a patronizing smile. “I’m sure you know your way home. Ta-ta!”
“Caleb, I’ll see you soon!” I shouted after him.
He broke free of his mother, rushing back down the hall. “I’ll open my portal for you. Only for your token.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed me, and the Goldens sighed, whether from annoyance or appreciation, I couldn’t tell. Caleb pulled away first. “I’ll find you, wherever you are. I will always find you.”
I bit back a tear. “I’ll look for you.”
“Okay, lovebirds,” Deja said. “It’s not like you have to walk in the snow. We’ll teach Jet how to make her own portal as soon as we get to the realm. Let’s hit it. These crackers aren’t going to last me half a portal leap.”
I waved to Caleb until the Goldens took each of my hands. Within seconds, we were flying through the kaleidoscope of the portals, heading toward a white circle I’d never seen.
“Only visible to a Golden,” Deja’s voice said inside my head. I couldn’t see them, or myself, but I noticed when we passed the dark circle to the spirit world. Portals of all colors zoomed by, and for the first time I realized the colors weren’t just random streaks, but windows to other lairs. We were traveling differently, and I could see everything, not just focus on the few places I knew.
“There’s a lot to explore,” Ellondra’s voice said. “You’ll have plenty of time.”
I longed to turn back, to see Caleb’s room or my mother’s lair. But they were right. There would be time to revisit the past, figure out where I came from and how I got to this place. For now, I needed to learn my role, sneak in visits with Caleb, and prepare myself for whatever would come next.
But then I remembered Dad. I forced myself to slow down. “I didn’t say goodbye to Dad!”
“We’ll fetch him. He needs to be trained as well,” Deja said.
“But he isn’t a Golden.”
“He has the golden bloodline, or else you wouldn’t be a full Golden. Come along.”
We passed a portal where a forlorn ferret watched us with tragic eyes. I slowed again, looking in. “Whose familiar is this?” I asked.
“That’s Melancholy,” Deja said. “Her enchantress was May, one of the eldest of our realm. She passed a few weeks ago.”
I had an idea. I reached for the ferret, small and brown with white markings. He was soft and warm and lay his weary head against my chest. I spun around, looking at portals. “How do I find a specific one?”
“You just have to aim for it,” Deja said. “But really, you already have Hallow. We’ll arrange for him to come to our realm.”
“This one isn’t for me.” I closed my eyes and thought of Mavis. Rah might be there, and it could be risky if I felt matched to her again, but I had to do it. I began to move.
“Jet! We’re heading to the white realm!” Ellondra sounded annoyed.
“I’ll be right back!”
Rah had left the portal open. I popped into the small lair, which was empty. I listened a minute but heard nothing. Maybe they’d gone after Rah and Dei Lucrii. The drumbeat sounded again in my head, the need for her, so she was within reach again. I forced myself to push it aside and set Melancholy on the desk. “Be a good familiar to Mavis,” I told him and stroked his soft head.
He sniffed around a moment and found the pile of linens like the one she’d used on my face and lay down on it. “Have a good life,” I whispered and began the chant to move into the portal. I knew the familiar was no trade for her daughter, and that they had a difficult future ahead because of me. But Rah might be stronger than she first appeared, and the potion, as long as she stayed near Dei Lucrii, would keep him bound to her.
Deja and Ellondra waited for me in the colored corridor. “Time to go, Jet. We can’t wait any longer. We have twenty years of bad habits to unravel in you.”
I followed after them, zipping through the colors toward my temporary new home. Do your worst, ladies, I thought. But a different kind of Golden had just been born.
Deanna Roy is the USA Today bestselling author of the Forever Series. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, her website, and yes, even MySpace. Sign up for her newsletter for sneak peeks and bonus material.
MARKED
Toil and Trouble: Book One
Charisma M. Cole
Marked (Toil and Trouble: Book One) © 2014 by Charisma M. Cole
Jade Murray is a necromancer, a witch who can communicate with the dead. After a summoning goes awry, two murders rock the human and supernatural world. One thing connects the gruesome acts: Jade.
To clear her name and avoid the Watchers on her tail for crimes against humanity and the magical community, Jade enlists the help of her vampire boyfriend, a fairy with a penchant for blood, and her neurotic mother. Will they find the real murderer before it’s too late?
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Chapter One
A Summoning to Remember
The ghost licked his bruised lips, popping the collar of his overpriced polo. The Cartier at his wrist had lost its brilliance, but his bleached white teeth gleamed with desire. Yuck.
Most who believe in ghosts think they’re these foggy apparitions that move stuff across rooms and make spooky noises, or they’re at the other end of an Ouija board, a connection to the other side. They’re partly right. Seasoned ghosts or those with a grudge can cause quite a ruckus with physical objects. But as far as appearances go, ghosts look awfully close to the way they did in life, even rocking the same clothes they wore when they met their end. Most have the stereotypical pallor, but nothing freakishly supernatural – they just look like they would benefit from a bottle of self-tanner. And when it comes to contacting a ghost, don’t bother wasting your hard-earned money on a board game. The only way someone can really have a sit-down with a dead person is through a true necromancer – a witch who was born with the gift to see and communicate with the dead. Like me.
I flipped a mess of mahogany hair over my shoulder, stepping closer to the line of salt I had drawn but still keeping a safe distance. Ectoplasm was a bitch to get out of clothes.
“Oh, honey bunny,” I cooed with a saccharine smile. “I miss you so much I can barely stand it, Brooksy.” I gripped my neck and let my hands trail slowly down my throat, hovering near the opening of my skintight dress. Instantly, his pale blue eyes widened in anticipation.
You’re just role playing, I thought to myself as a pang of nausea hit me. It’s not like he even sees you. And it was the truth. With a little spellwork, necromancers can control what ghosts see as well, kind of like a glamour. My glamour was based on his favorite piece of tail on the side – Candi Wilson. In his eyes, my ebony skin appeared pasty white. My shoulder length, kinky locks now flowed in stick thin waves down my equally stick thin back. Well, not my back – I never got the appeal of a man being able to see all the bones in my body. I wore my curves proudly when I wasn’t on the clock. When I was on said clock, I was a witch and I used my special skills in necromancy for the Necromancy and Communicating Agency or NACA. Those skills meant I used my ability to see and communicate with dead people to deal with those in the beyond. It wasn’t without its risks. Ghosts could become unruly, even violent. And when they thought, it came out in images that flooded my mind. Sometimes it was
sweet things, like memories with loved ones they left behind, and other times it was…not so sweet.
“Oh, what I would give for one more night with you, baby,” the ghost said, sighing with longing. “I need you, kitten.”
“My life is an endless ocean of sadness and loneliness,” I continued dramatically. “And things have been hard lately. Really hard.”
The ghost took a step closer. “What’s going on?”
I looked down at the tacky white patent pumps I’d put on for the occasion. “I lost my job at Macy’s.”
I could barely say the last bit with a straight face. When I scoped out the other woman’s place of employment after I accepted the gig, Candi was so obviously made for the job that I was in awe. From the way she held the glass bottles like they were precious treasures to the cavity-inducing sweetness of her smile and southern twang, I had a feeling that as long as she didn’t develop a habit of clocking in late, she had a job for life.
“You got canned?” the ghost said in disbelief, stepping even closer to the barrier. “What happened?”
“I…” My mouth hung agape as I mentally slapped myself. In a rush to schedule my first client in several weeks, I hadn’t even thought up a back story or researched her contacts at the company. Magic is most powerful on the full moon, and since there’s usually one full moon a month, I should have been more prepared.
It was cockiness, I guess. My boss, Brontes, who rarely gave out any sort of compliments or encouragement, finally admitted that my glamours were the best he’d seen in decades. It may have gone to my head a smidge, considering the fact that I barely had to break a sweat to create a solid façade. My usual work routine consisted of popping a button or two. The location of the ghost’s hidden treasure or any other information I wanted to know normally came spilling out.
But this ghost apparently talked to his mistress. Just my luck.
“My, uh, manager,” I said finally, clearing my throat. “He-”