by Jamie Magee
“That’s not what I meant,” he said as his hands moved around her waist, as the heat of his body loomed against hers. “I don’t know what’s going on right here.”
Living in one existence for as long as Reveca had would afford anyone the right to slip into bleakness, some kind of bored depression. She had been edging toward one of those for a while.
It was the reason she was half starved this night.
Energy is power. Energy is food. Energy is found, manifested, as well as depleted, within the soul.
There are many ways to manifest energy, to elevate your power, but the fastest way, the most common way, is connecting with another source. Another person. Sex.
Sex is raw energy. It allows your body to be as close to another soul as possible.
Your everyday hook-up sex will do nothing more than give you a fading high, take the edge off. Sometimes that’s all people need or want. But sex between two powerful souls that gave a damn about the other, that was supremacy, that was a high that lasted, that endured.
It took more than lust, almost more than passion to reach that bank of energy. It took emotion.
There had always been passion between Talon and Reveca; hot, smoldering, steals your breath, beg for more passion. But that was as far as it went. Outside of that they were best friends, partners. They led a Club together, they led wars together.
A while back, for no reason, late one night she felt a wave of pain and grief come over her. It was like a tidal wave. That sensation was so powerful that she knew it came from a source that was close. She frantically found Talon assuring herself he was fine, then one by one she found each of the Sons. She even ventured out to GranDee’s ensuing her safety. Nothing. Absolutely no reason for her to feel like her soul had just ripped in two.
She thought for days about that emotion she felt. Each thought took her back to her beginning in the role she was in, took her back to that battlefield where she lost it all, where she lost him.
After that, each time Talon’s hands rushed across her she saw that lost love’s eyes in her mind. She felt his lips. Which made her feel like a turncoat. Made her feel unworthy to be with Talon. For she knew if he ever dared to imagine another woman as he was touching her that she would kill him.
So she stopped. The moments between them changed. Instead of disappearing for an entire night, maybe days, their encounters turned into quick brushes of lust. That notion was fun for a while, acting like Shade, disappearing into a closet for a wild ride. It reminded them of their beginning when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, but the rush faded.
Since then…it had been a silent fight where he didn’t know how to ask what was wrong and she didn’t know how to tell him she wasn’t over something that happened far too long ago.
She felt his hands slowly move around her waist, slide down her ass, finding the flesh at the base of her cut off shorts, she felt the heat of his hand sliding up teasing the core of her body that clearly welcomed the invasion of his touch.
“You’ve had a hell of a night. Used more power than you have in a long time…and you still haven’t come to me.” His voice was low, deep, and seductive as his fingertips glided along the heat of her, as short breaths began to leave Reveca.
She let a smile edge across her lips. “I don’t recall having the chance.”
His hands started to move in slow circles against that tiny tight ball of nerves, the ones that sent erotic sensations through her entire body - that electrified her. “The girl I knew years ago would have told Blackwater to wait a damn minute.” A sexy little smirk met his lips when he saw how hooded her eyes became, when he felt how slick the heat of her was just then. “The girl I knew a century ago might have let him watch.”
She slapped his chest and nearly grinned because that was an outright lie and he knew it. Talon enjoyed doing this, having a civil conversation with her as he unwound her body, and nearly drove her mad. He liked to show her how in control he was, how commanding his touch was, he loved to prove to Reveca she was powerless when he got her right where he wanted her.
That sensual smirk of his was damn near irresistible. “Maybe not watch, but she sure as hell would not have cared if someone heard her cry out.” He said as his fingers slipped within, as she arched her chest toward him.
Her hand on his chest slid up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.” She said on a heated breath, gliding her body with his touch.
He bit his lip as he ducked his head and let the tip of his nose glide up her neck. “Last time we said no more breaks.”
They did. Each time they parted ways in the past they stayed friends, well, after the first bit of silence they did, that friendship always turned into passion. They said if that urge to leave ever came again then they would know they were meant to be friends and only such.
“I don’t want a break,” she breathed, and meant that. She couldn’t handle the sight of him with another woman, even the idea of it. He’d been hers for too long.
“What do you want?” he whispered as he pressed his body against hers showing her exactly what he wanted, as his fingers bore deeper within.
She gasped looked down, let her forehead meet his chest. “I want you to tell me this is a bad dream. Tell me she’s still here.”
Talon squinted his eyes closed feeling her pain, knowing as ready as her body was her mind was not letting go right now. Slowly he let his hands rise then ease through her hair, cradling her head against him. His woman was lost and he had no idea how to find her. No idea where she went when she stared into empty space more and more each day. He wanted to defend her, he wanted something to fight, something he could destroy, but he couldn’t fight her own mind, couldn’t understand all that she witnessed before they found each other, that place that refused to let her go.
“I can’t do that, baby,” he said as he lifted her head so his eyes would meet hers. “But I will not let you face your sister without power.”
Before she could whisper a protest, his lips were on hers. At first it was a slow kiss ripe with command, melding their lips, but the second she felt his energy, felt him pouring all that he was into that kiss, her embrace became hungry.
She reached her arms up around his shoulders and pulled him to her, rocked her body against him. In his hands, no matter where they went, she felt a hum behind them, felt his focused energy absorbing into her.
Her head flew back as his lips eased down her neck. The grief was still present, the hell of this night was, but she felt the flood of energy moving back into her.
Right as she pushed his kut to the edge of his shoulders, slid her hands down his chest searching for his belt, he pulled his kiss away. “Better?” he breathed against her face.
“Much.”
“Then deal with her and let me take you home.”
She lifted one brow. “Tease.”
He reached back for her thighs, that flesh just before the end of her cut-off jean shorts, then tilted his head. “I always finish what I start. You know that. And if anyone is a tease between the pair of us, it’s this ass.”
“My ass,” she repeated with a playful glare.
“Yes. Every day all day it walks right by me,” he said as his hands squeezed her flesh. “It taunts me.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I’ve been right before.”
“You’ve been wrong more,” he said as he leaned down and stole the protest right off her lips as he pulled them between his. He squeezed the flesh of her thighs once more as he pulled away. “Go see what fucking hell ol’ sis has gotten us into.”
Reveca let out a breath then moved out of his arms and made her way toward the soulful sound of the choir that had been rejoicing right along with her body as Talon made her remember why they had been side by side for so long.
Not a soul turned to look at her as she entered. Their hands were in the air, most had their eyes closed. Thei
r bodies were dressed in their Sunday best and drenched in the summer heat, in the passion they had for where their minds were.
Reveca stared forward at the choir, at one specific member. Thelma Ray. GranDee’s younger sister. The resemblance was remarkable and excruciatingly painful for Reveca at that moment.
Thelma Ray kept her song as she stared down Reveca, but her eyes, they said she knew, they said she felt the loss.
Reverend Bradshaw said if you felt called, to walk forward. And Reveca did, looking shamefully out of place in that charming little building. The choir divided giving way to those that had stood to come to the stage.
Once those with Reveca reached the stage they knelt—that was when the crowd went wild, when the choir rejoiced and encircled those kneeling. That was when the step Reveca was kneeling on opened, when she moved her body past the trapdoor that was there, and sealed it behind her.
This was how each and every meeting with her sister was masked. The believers above created a dome of energy that no dark force could break through, the crowd hid Reveca’s true purpose here from the modern lawmen. And quite honestly, knowing Thelma Ray was above kept Reveca and Saige both alive. The woman was just like GranDee, had no issues putting ‘little white witch girls’ in their place when they began to ‘act a fool.’
Saige was Reveca’s twin sister. When they were younger, it was the tint of their hair and the shape of their eyes, maybe even the lips, that made it somewhat easy for family to tell them apart. Now, well, now it wasn’t hard at all.
Long ago, Saige weaved a spell that added twenty-five years to her immortal appearance. At the time Reveca called it well deserved karma. To her it didn’t matter that Saige knew that would happen when she cast that spell, it didn’t matter that Saige did it to help bring a newborn child into this world. Not at all.
Reveca still harbored ill will for not only Saige, but also Jamison BellaRose, the man that publicly claimed to be Saige’s brother, a man that was there when Reveca was cast into the prison of the Edge.
It didn’t matter how many times Saige told her that it wasn’t a prison that it was a creation that Reveca had made. No matter how many times Saige told her what happened had to happen, Reveca was still utterly pissed.
When Reveca reached the bottom of the wood stairs, across the way in dull light, she saw her sister. Saige may have looked the better part of fifty but she was still ravishing, still carried a degree of class in everything she did, even when she was blessing someone out, cursing them to their end—she still had class.
Reveca was the black sheep. She was the one who questioned everything. The one tormented by impatience. The one that acted with heart before reason. She was everything that Saige wasn’t.
In all truth, if it were up to Reveca she’d never see the likes of her sister again, but family is family. They’re the ones that give you some kind of balance. Even if that balance is laced with hate.
In the beginning, when her life fell apart, Reveca did find herself in a prison, that thin line between death and life. She did see souls cross it. She never believed Saige or Jamison when they told her she created it, but she accepted their help when they weaved spells that allowed her to reside with the living or the dead as much as she wanted.
Years later, they gave her the herbs she needed to sustain Talon in the same manner. From that point, Reveca figured her own way of allowing people to stay. She no longer had to go to her sister or Jamison when she wanted to give a soul that choice.
Her issue? No matter how powerful Reveca became, no matter how many she brought back, she could not figure out how to sustain Talon without the herbs and spells that Saige and Jamison gave her.
Every two hundred years Reveca had to cast another spell of immortality for him, had to use the herbs that Saige gave her, their energy.
Basically, Reveca had no choice but to listen to her sister, barter with her when she asked. If she didn’t, she feared her sister would punish her by taking Talon. Of course, Talon had no clue about this constant ticking clock above his head. That was Reveca’s secret; one of many.
Saige did practice white magic, did fear Karma far more than Reveca ever had, but that didn’t mean that Reveca didn’t believe that Saige was capable of hurting her by denying Talon’s next stay.
Saige was quietly pacing the wooden floor, dressed in designer jeans, an elegant top, fine jewelry. Her white hair was pulled into a conservative twist.
“Sister,” she said as she looked over Reveca, the way she was dressed. “I do apologize if I have interrupted any engagements you had this night.”
“Interrupted,” Reveca said with a sly grin. “You mean you didn’t mean to frame my Club for murder. You didn’t mean to interrupt my grieving process.”
Saige’s lips pressed together in a fine line. Everyone has their allies and GranDee was one of Reveca’s, not Saige’s. Saige had no respect for anyone that toyed with what she called ‘dark arts.’ At the same time she honored family ties. GranDee’s family, they were all a part of the Dominarum Coven, the one Jamison BellaRose led, the one in which Saige and Reveca’s bloodline began so long ago. Therefore, she would have some remorse for GranDee’s loss.
“No doubt a great power was lost this night,” Saige offered. “However, I did not frame you for Newberry’s demise. That was the result of juvenile actions committed by one of your mutations.”
Mutations. That was the second time tonight Reveca had heard that word. First Holden said his source had said such things and now this. Of course, it was nothing new for Saige to call Reveca’s less than admirable transitions such things.
In the beginning, when Reveca found a way to offer an enhanced life to others, she was reckless. She admitted that. She’d allowed more than a few unworthy souls back into this world. Those twisted souls misused their power, some even used humans as prey. Others even managed to figure out how to pass their gifts on. Basically a new evolution was born.
Reveca and the Sons, they were policing those that had misused their second coming, the Rogue’s. One by one they delivered them into the depths of real death.
“Man created mutations,” Reveca said, words she’d said more than once.
You see, for all of time man had told stories about things that go bump in the night—vampires, lycans, shifters, phoenixes, seers, the list is endless. Each story was exaggerated. Yes, there were souls that had extraordinary elements to them, but they were very human.
When you die, thoughts, beliefs you had as a living soul, coupled with something deep inside, some unique connection to nature as a whole, become a recipe for what will you become if you’re brought back.
Saige accused Reveca of birthing monsters; Reveca didn’t see it that way. Even if it were true, even if the souls she brought back progressed into the monsters that old tales predicted, that would not occur for generations to come. Right now those souls were just aware of powers within, powers that anyone could argue are within all of us.
“Perhaps, but the witch that brought them back knew that was a risk and did so anyway.”
“Saige, this conversation is dated.”
“That it is,” Saige said as she lifted her chin.
“You told me this man that was murdered was dealt with years ago. Clearly your humane ways of dealing with assholes are full of just as many faults as mine, and now I have your mess to clean up. Blackwater has already surfaced asking questions.”
“It’s not going to be easy, sister. The man had followers, a host of others that believed his ramblings. He has names, locations, roles we play.”
“Had. Apparently he was murdered in a neighborhood that is connected to my Club.”
“The coven is in just as much danger of being accused by modern lawman as your Club. It is well known that we did not get along with the deceased.”
“So you want me to pity you?” Reveca said with an arrogant smirk.
“No. I’m here to tell you this is the beginning.”
“Thanks for the
heads up, sis,” Reveca said with a leer as she turned.
“This conversation is not over,” Saige said.
Reveca let out a pissed gasp as she looked over her shoulder at Saige.
Saige looked over her carefully before she spoke. “What’s done is done. Newberry’s twisted soul is lingering in your Edge.”
“Trust me, he’s not coming back,” Reveca said with a lifted brow.
“I want you to push him forward.”
Most souls, ones that die without warning, usually violently, linger on the Edge for a while, long enough for them to figure out they’re dead. Then, if not claimed by the light or the dark abyss of the Unclaimed, they’re moved through the Veil. Pushing them through beforehand, well, that’s just cruel. Infinite insanity is the best they could hope for.
“This man really pissed you off didn’t he?”
Saige left that question to hang in the air and went on. “I want you to take him to Crass, barter for another soul in exchange. One Crass refers to as King. We need Crass to give him a stay. He’s not to be altered or touched. He shall reside with you and your Club until further notice.”
Crass was a Lord of death. Lords of death vary in their tact, their roles. Crass was one of the ugliest of his kind. Reveca had only dealt with him once or twice before, but her skin still crawled just thinking about it.
“This would make the second soul you have asked me to bring out of the grip of death, sister.”
“Allowing Cashton into the living world has not hurt you. I would even imagine that his presence has added to your excellent bartering skills.”
That was true. Cashton not only had knowledge, he was also able to bring herbs with him from the land of the dead, ones that helped Reveca weave her darker spells, the ones she had to weave to take down her Rogue’s.
“And what does having him here do for you exactly?”
“I’ve told you.”
“All you told me was the same bullshit that you have said from the beginning.”
Rapture. That’s what Saige called it. The excuse she used every single time she did something that hurt Reveca, hurt herself.