My Favorite Witch

by Lisa Plumley

  T.J. snorted. “Me? Happy? No one would believe that.”

  “But I do. And I’m right.” Feeling an inexpressible tenderness toward him, Dayna smiled. The tracer looked away, directing his gaze deliberately toward the empty bedroom, but she wasn’t fooled. She felt the need in him. It matched her own.

  With steady fingers, she untucked the trailing end of her bath towel. Like the most teasing of burlesque dancers, Dayna toyed with that corner of terry cloth. “Look at me now, T.J.”

  He turned his head in silent refusal, his jaw tight.

  Then, grudgingly, he brought his gaze around to her.

  Triumphantly, Dayna dropped her towel. It fell to her feet in a clump of cotton, baring her skin to the cool air. Her nipples puckered at the exposure; her thighs quivered.

  At his first look, T.J. groaned aloud. His fingers clenched the sheets. The sound of rent fabric drew Dayna’s attention.

  Beneath his hands, the sheet came away in tatters. The tracer stared at his fingers, bewilderment plain on his face.

  Clearly, he was not used to his self-control failing.

  “Get used to it,” Dayna told him with a wicked, witchy smile. “This is only the beginning between us.”

  Then she raised her hand, sent him straight onto his back with her newfound magical abilities, and made her next move.

  T.J. was still wondering how the hell he had flopped onto his back when Dayna straddled him. She flattened her palms on his chest, found his erratic heartbeat, then climbed on the mattress…and buried him inside her with one swift stroke.

  Hot. Slick. Tight. Yes. Filled with disbelief, T.J. gave a single hoarse yell. His whole body bucked upward in utter need. This time, no sheets were at hand. Empty fists were all he had.

  Gripped with pleasure, he gazed at Dayna. She straddled him with grace and insistence, smooth-skinned and proudly bare. Her hips flared, begging his touch. Her breasts jutted outward, swaying with her movements. She was beautiful and wild, raw and urgent, pure and tough. She was everything. She was his.

  He had to slow down. He knew it. But his bonded witch’s next low moan made that almost impossible. Naked and eager, Dayna swiveled her hips in a move that almost made him lose his mind. Her thrusts were hard and deliberate. Seeming lost to everything but their point of connection, Dayna rode him with seductive strength. Her thighs flexed with feminine power as she rose…rose…slipped almost tantalizingly away…then plunged downward again, sending them both into spasms of ecstasy.

  Shuddering, T.J. grabbed her hips. “Wait.” Breathlessly, he peered up at her. “Wait. There’s more to this. There’s more.”

  “More. Yes. Ah.” With her hair tossing around her head, Dayna nodded. She clutched his chest, her fingers tangled in his Patayan amulets. She closed her eyes and slid more slowly, torturing them both with exquisite friction. Up. Down. More. “Oh my God. You’re…so…” She broke off, panting. “Mmmm. Yes.”

  Mindlessly, T.J. reared up to meet her. He cradled her with his arms. His fingers closed on her hips. Determined to meet her equally, he held her in place and met her thrusts with savage movements of his own. Harder. Harder. The air filled with their cries; the mattress rocked beneath them, driven to its edge of stability by their coming together. Yes. Yes. He’d never felt anything so good. So right. So necessary, in all his life.

  Shaken by his need to claim his bonded witch, to mark Dayna as his, to please her, T.J. almost didn’t notice the affection that welled inside him. But his fevered thrusts brought more than pleasure; they brought a true union. There was no denying it. Even as he savored the seductive glide of their bodies, even as he lifted Dayna with a warlock strength he scarcely used—all the better to satisfy her—he felt his heart opening.

  No. Not that. Frantic and divided, he rolled them both over on the bed. He needed control. He needed this, needed her, but if that meant being vulnerable…In defiance of the very concept, T.J. growled, then levered himself above Dayna. She was more than willing to meet him there. Her smile looked warmhearted and wicked, both at once. Her face looked beautiful, framed by wild dark hair and illuminated with…caring?

  Fuck. Closing his eyes, T.J. took her again. He surged inside her blindly, his whole being enveloped by her heat, her slickness, her softness. His Patayan amulets jangled; he looked down to see them jouncing on Dayna’s breasts, another point of connection in a world turned incomprehensible with desire.

  Against his will, he liked that. He liked that the two of them fit so well together. Improbably, even his Patayan symbols of manliness and courage and truth sought her out.

  Groaning with an urge to resist any more wayward thoughts like those sappy ones, T.J. brought his mouth to hers again.

  He could stifle this yearning. He would. Soon. But first…

  Ah. Dayna’s mouth stretched wide beneath his, welcoming him in every way. Her tongue played with his. Her hips collided with his in a timeless rhythm. Her breath fluttered over him. She was pulling him, draining him, driving him closer to the edge—closer to a place where it would be impossible to be alone.

  Filled with unease at the depth of their connection, T.J. froze. But his inaction seemed only to push Dayna forward. Her thighs trembled against his, straining as she kept thrusting. Her hips pounded against him. Grinding, moaning, she clutched at his back. With her eyes wide, she stilled. “Oh, yes. Ah!”

  Her body pulsed around him. The sensation was exquisite. Blindsided by it, T.J. felt himself tilt toward the inevitable.

  Gripped by a force he couldn’t resist, he plunged harder, deeper. Dayna moaned and urged him onward, but T.J. was lost to everything except reaching that peak of sensation. He moved faster. Faster. Not caring, he told himself fiercely, about anything except finding release, he pinned his bonded witch to the bed with his hands and rammed himself fully inside her.

  Still meeting him in every way, Dayna urged him on. With breathy cries, she begged him not to stop. T.J. didn’t. His reward was a brilliant smile from his bonded witch. It arrested his attention in a way nothing else could have. His heart softened all the way in that moment, making his desire complete.

  An instant later, everything went hazy. Locked in violent pleasure, T.J. tipped over the edge. He couldn’t think. He could only feel as his muscles seized, clenching with spasmodic release. He shouted in hoarse approval. Yes. Yes, yes.

  For a moment he slumped, his face buried in Dayna’s neck. She smelled sweet. She felt soft and warm and misted with sweat. Despite all his resolve not to allow it, T.J. felt a smile steal across his face. His chest heaved with his indrawn breath.

  His heart pounded with an intensity that wouldn’t have been sustainable for anyone but a Patayan. Thrilled with everyone and everything—especially with Dayna—T.J. sighed with contentment.

  Beneath him, Dayna sighed, too. She trailed her hand over his shoulder blade, then moved downward in a leisurely path.

  She squeezed his ass. Her witchy laughter applauded them both. She began another slow stroke upward to his shoulder, clearly determined to savor the connectedness between them.

  Lulled by her touch, sensitized by her nearness, T.J. shivered. He loved this. Loved her. Feeling on the verge of another smile, he lifted his head and pressed his mouth to hers. This kiss was gentle, tender…everything their other kisses hadn’t been. Roused by it, T.J. kissed her again. And again.

  He cupped her face in his hand, examined her for a long while, and found her irredeemably perfect. He kissed her again.

  Her answering smile was everything he needed.

  His chest felt good. His heart felt full. His body felt rejuvenated, as though he’d lain beneath a thousand suns.

  As though sensing that, Dayna stretched in his arms. Her nipples dragged across his chest, inciting a new round of dangerous thoughts. Lazily, she traced her fingers over the birthright mark on his biceps…then she glanced at her arm with apparent surprise. Her gaze focused on her golden armlet.

  “Hey.” Her voice sounded sleepy, drunk
with pleasure. “Your tattoo is glowing. And so is my armband.” She touched them both, her pretty face scrunched with thought. “They feel hot, too.”

  Growing instantly still, T.J. stared at the items that bonded him with his inadvertently chosen witch. He realized what had happened immediately. No wonder his chest felt better, his body stronger, his mind more aware. No wonder his heart felt overflowing with goodness and light.

  He’d never had time for that bullshit before.

  “Hell.” Disgusted by his own susceptibility, T.J. frowned at Dayna. Her mystified expression met his, then grew sharper with growing comprehension. “We’ve completed our bond.”

  With another, harsher swearword, he got out of bed. Then he stalked away before things could get worse…or he could weaken even further and lose himself in Dayna all over again.

  If he did that, there’d be no hope left for him at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Okay. So T.J. wasn’t exactly the pillow-talk type.

  She could deal with that, Dayna decided a little more than an hour later as she headed downtown. Because thanks to T.J., she felt so good that nothing could get her down. She felt energized, awake, invigorated in a way she’d never experienced. It was as though T.J. had shared more than his body with her—he’d shared his vitality. And it was intoxicating.

  Smiling, she bounced down from the trolley that passed for a public transit system in Covenhaven. It rolled away behind her, occupied by two tourists and a few city workers, sporting another banner advertising the Hallowe’en Festival.

  GET A TASTE OF THE OLD WAYS AT THE COVENHAVEN HALLOW-E’EN FESTIVAL! MAGICAL FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY! OCTOBER 31ST AT JANUS RESORT AND SPA.

  Hmmm. Looking at that banner with new interest, Dayna thought about what Camille had told her last night. Apparently, the Janus Resort and Spa was Francesca Woodberry’s baby—she was owner and proprietress. Her two best friends since high school, Lily Abbot and Sumner Jacobs, both worked with her—Lily as a pastry chef and Sumner as the manager of the Janus gift shop.

  It figured. Privileged Francesca was still at the center of everything in town—including the biggest event of them all, the Hallowe’en Festival—and her chosen friends still had it made.

  Being selected by Francesca—and treated to the benefits of her extrapowerful magic—definitely had its rewards. Snooty Lily had looked broomstick thin last night, showing no signs of indulging in the supercaloric enchanted desserts she created. And spoiled Sumner was curvaceous and drop-dead sexy in a way that Dayna—with her athletic build and nonmagically augmented hair and face—could never hope to be. Sumner had been the mean witch who’d sneered at Dayna’s human-made Moleskine notebook in class last night, too…although given the kinds of useless baubles and artsy Covenhaven souvenirs that Sumner probably stocked for the wealthy tourists in Janus’s gift shop, Dayna seriously doubted she had room to diss her taste in accessories.

  Not that anyone would dare say so. Judging by the way all the other cusping witches had fawned over Francesca and her cohorts last night, she had grown up to become queen bee of all of Covenhaven, ruling from her ultrachic roost at Janus. Lily and Sumner were still her chosen court. And no one else mattered unless anointed by Francesca. It was just like high school all over again, with Dayna playing the part of the outsider witch who could never fit in…and everyone else standing on the periphery, waiting to conjure memory flickers of her failures.

  But today she had a plan to change all that. She still wanted to learn to control her magic well enough to go home again, of course. That was essential. But she also meant to compete for the prize of Professor Reynolds’s juweel on graduation day, and she wanted to redeem herself in the eyes of her cusping-witch classmates, too. After her public humiliation last night, that felt more important than ever. With her new plan in mind, Dayna looked around, trying to get her bearings.

  Here on the southern end of Main Street, the faux-authentic Southwestern ambiance that was so prevalent in the tourist zone eased. The buildings here were made of real adobe with red-tiled roofs. The sidewalks were paved with redbrick and lined with indigenous Palo Verde trees. In the distance, the red-rock mountains pierced the skyline, leaving no doubt of the town’s scenic appeal. It was idyllic, in an autumnal sort of way.

  And for once, despite the realization that her high school rivals had grown up to rule the town, Dayna almost felt a part of it all. All thanks to T.J. and his invigorating…presence.

  Feeling giddy with remembrance of the way he’d looked at her after they’d come together, she smiled. Yes, her assigned tracer looked tough. Yes, he made her senses clamor with a mixture of alarm and eagerness whenever he was near. Yes, he seemed as though he would rather shave with barbed wire than actually say something sappy to her. But the truth of his feelings was in his eyes and in his touch. It was in the way he said her name. It was the way they fit together. Perfectly.

  T.J. McAllister was not romantic. But for now he was hers. And that mattered more than hearts and flowers and pillow talk.

  Catching sight of her destination, Dayna headed toward a distant adobe building. Constructed in traditional Southwestern style, it contained two arched sections, each connected by an open-air zaguan that allowed natural breezes to cool the interior. As she reached it, the flowers blooming in the beds alongside the entryway sent up their rich fragrances.

  Happily, Dayna breathed deeply. She’d never seen any place with as much abundant landscaping as Covenhaven. Plants and flowers of all descriptions flourished here. Obviously, the mild weather had something to do with that. But so did the talented gardeners—one of whom tipped his wide-brimmed sun hat at her as she skipped up the steps. His handsome features and burnished skin reminded her of T.J…. and made her smile all over again.

  “Nice work on the flowers!” She waved as she opened the building’s antique arched door. “They’re really beautiful.”

  The gardener smiled and waved at her, then went back to work. An instant later, Dayna stepped into the cool darkness of the Covenhaven Public Library. The dusty, tangy smell of ancient papers and books struck her; so did a familiar sense of peacefulness. She inhaled, savoring it…and remembering.

  She’d spent countless hours here in the town’s tiny library. This place had helped foster her love of reading and discovery. Ultimately, the time she’d spent here had led her to her job at Dynamic Research Library. More importantly, being here had helped her discover her best skill—organizing data.

  In the magical world, organizational ability was an afterthought. No one needed human-style systems to remember things; they could conjure up memory flickers. No one needed individual books to show the way; they could consult EnchantNet, which had existed in various—and hidden—forms for centuries.

  But Dayna, lacking in natural witchy talent and anxious to fit in, had needed more than EnchantNet’s wiki-like communal knowledge. She’d needed to know things that other witches hadn’t. Like proper spell-repair techniques. Methods for tracking runaway familiars. And strategies for escaping to the world beyond Covenhaven…and existing there without being outed as a witch or persecuted for magic she couldn’t even practice properly.

  Quite accidentally, Dayna had found more than answers in the town’s overlooked public library stacks. She’d found a natural gift for sorting through information and categorizing it, for streamlining systems and crosschecking data. She’d found herself. And then she’d taken herself someplace where she fit better.

  In the human world, her attention to detail was seen as a skill…not a compensation for magical failures. Her hunger to know more was viewed as admirable curiosity…not a second-rate substitute for natural magical talent. So while it was true that Dayna was still an outsider in her human life, at least there she was an outsider by choice. That made all the difference.

  And that was why she intended to return there. Just as soon as she completed her cusping-witch training and got her magic under control. And maybe…okay, definitely…a
fter she used her burgeoning magic skills to nail down some grade-A warlock while she was in town. Especially now that she knew exactly how enthralling being bonded with someone like T.J. could be.

  It was a witch’s right to go after the partner she wanted, after all. Witchfolk were different from humans in that regard. When it came to courtship, witches ran the show. Warlocks were only along for the ride, hoping to be chosen. That was why they’d developed such dangerous skills of seduction over the ages. Warlocks needed those abilities to get as much witchy action as they could before warlock sloping took hold.

  When she’d come to Phoenix, it had taken Dayna time to adjust to human dating rituals. She’d scared off more than one partner by being too aggressive. But T.J. had met her on equal terms, she remembered with a tingle. He had countered every move she made with an aggressive one of his own. His intensity had driven her crazy. Straddling him had almost sent her over the top immediately. If not for the way he’d suddenly flipped her over and taken a dominant position, she would have—inevitably—come right away. It was the witchy way. As it was, the switch to being subordinate had slowed her down just enough.

  Just enough that she’d been able to savor T.J.’s husky groans, adroit hands, and masterful cock. Just enough that she’d felt his heartbeat, tasted his skin. Just enough that she’d felt uncommonly close to him. Just enough that she craved more of him, right now, and felt aggrieved that she didn’t know when she would have a chance to sample more. It was definitely true what they said about warlocks’ skills in the bedroom, Dayna decided. And once you added some Patayan to the mix…whoa.

  Feeling herself flush, she shook herself from her reverie. She hadn’t come here to have a sexy flashback about T.J. She’d come here to tackle the next phase of her cusping-witch training in true Dayna Sterling fashion: by checking out a pile of library books on the subject.