Queen of The Hill (Knight Games)

by Genevieve Jack

  Poe ruffled his feathers. “How long does it take to brew?”

  “I can make it in an hour but it has to ferment for forty-eight. Should be ready in plenty of time.”

  “Do you think she’ll go for it?” Michelle asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s the best idea I’ve got.” I read through the ingredients. “It’s fairly straightforward. I’ll get started right away.”

  Poe squawked in approval. “May I suggest you visit Rick when you are done? If you are going to face Tabetha in a few days, you’ll need your strength.”

  I ignored Poe and was about to say goodbye to Michelle when she yelled, “Wait.”

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Bridesmaids’ dresses,” Michelle said.

  I groaned and closed my eyes.

  “I know this is horrible timing, but if Soleil and I don’t get sized and order them now, they won’t be ready by the wedding.”

  “I can’t go back to Gertrude’s,” I said.

  She grimaced. “A hat and dark glasses?” she suggested.

  “No.”

  “Grateful, woman up and meet me at the emporium. I guarantee, after spending six thousand dollars on a wedding dress, she will not kick you out.” Michelle followed up with a string of pleading and a threat to walk down the aisle in something off the rack.

  “Fine,” I huffed. “Make an appointment and I’ll be there.”

  Michelle squealed and promised to call Soleil for me. We said our goodbyes, and I got to work.

  CHAPTER 9

  Dinner and an Ultimatum

  Three days later, I found myself in Evenrose Bridal, this time in the viewing chair. Thankfully, Gertrude didn’t say a word to me, although that included any kind of a greeting. As long as the dresses were in on time, I’d get over the rudeness.

  Soleil stepped on the box wearing a bright coral-colored sheath dress that made me shade my eyes.

  “Too bright,” I said.

  Michelle agreed. “Way too bright.”

  Not to mention, on Michelle’s squat frame, the dress completely lost its shape. I registered the disappointment on lanky Soleil’s face and wondered if any dress was up to the task.

  “I will try the violet option,” Soleil said and disappeared into the changing room.

  “Hey, are you okay? What’s with the matching luggage?” Michelle asked, referring to the dark circles under my eyes.

  I shrugged. “Stressed about the Tabetha dinner,” I whispered. “Drained from work.”

  “Don’t you have a supernatural fountain of youth across the street who you happen to be engaged to?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Go take a hit of the good stuff.”

  “Yeah.” I pressed my lips together. “We’re sort of fighting.”

  “About what?”

  “This whole situation. How he jumped to conclusions about our relationship and almost died because of it.”

  Michelle’s jaw dropped open. “Oh, come on, Grateful. You know as well as I do that things weren’t nearly as cut-and-dried as all that. I mean, you and Logan …”

  “There was nothing going on between Logan and me.”

  She narrowed her eyes and held up one hand. “I am not even going to step on this landmine. Let me just say, mistakes were made all around, honey, and if you are too hardheaded to forgive his, you don’t deserve him.”

  I frowned. “That’s harsh.”

  “Not really.” She placed her hands on her ample hips and shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re asking me, I have a feeling your anger is more about self-protection than disappointment. You have an excuse to keep him at an arm’s length, and the reward is you stay emotionally safe. It’s becoming your M.O., Grateful, and it isn’t pretty.”

  “Go try on the violet halter dress,” I snapped. Who asked her anyway?

  Still, my mind dwelled on Rick. All through deciding the violet halter dress was the one, Gertrude’s measurements, and the entire ordering process, he was all I could think about. Part of me wanted to grip my anger to my cheek like a security blanket. Only problem was, Michelle was right. I didn’t actually feel angry anymore. I just missed him.

  On the drive back to Red Grove, I decided, quite formally and in conversation with myself, to get over it.

  “I forgive you,” I said when Rick opened his door. He was naked except for a pair of gray cotton pants that hung low, exposing the top of the raised muscle vee that hooked over his hips and blended into his back. When he looked at me, his eyes were heather gray, the beast within far from the surface, and his expression soft.

  “Thank you. I am sorry, mi cielo. For everything. For doubting you, for disappointing you, and for the burden we now face to undo it.” He shifted toward me, resting his arm on the doorframe. His bicep flexed to support his weight, and I had to swallow against the lick of desire that swept over me.

  “Whatever it is, we will do what we have to. We’ll move beyond this.” I stepped into his body, the front of my coat brushing his chest. “Tabetha can’t have you.”

  “Why?” He smirked, waiting for the words he desperately wanted to hear. His desire for my affection poured down our metaphysical connection like warm honey.

  “Because I love you,” I said. The words were barely over my lips before he was pulling me into his cottage and shutting out the cold and any lingering doubts with the slam of the door.

  His fingers dug into the back of my hair, cradling the base of my neck. Lips brushed mine. He hovered over my mouth, teasing me with his breath. I thrust myself up on my tiptoes, kissing him gently at first and than in a more demanding way. Heat bloomed in my core. I needed this. I needed him.

  I parted his lips with my tongue and stroked between his teeth, exploring his mouth while my palms eased down the skin of his back. With one hand, he reached between us and unbuttoned my coat. He pushed it off my shoulders, never losing the rhythm of our kiss, and tossed it toward the rack near the door. I heard it crumple to the floor. Neither one of us paused to pick it up.

  My long-sleeved T-shirt was next. This time, he did pull back from our kiss to lift it over my head, but instead of removing it, he stopped at my hands, whirled me around, and wound my sleeves to bind my wrists together.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Give yourself to me,” he whispered in my ear. His palm coursed over my abs to cup my lace-covered breast. With the position of my hands behind my back, I could feel his erection twitch against my palm through the cloth of his pants.

  I understood what he wanted. This wasn’t as much about binding me as it was about me showing I trusted him explicitly. Control was important to me. Giving it up would not be easy.

  “Yes,” I said.

  He spun me back around to face him. One side of his mouth lifted into a devilish smirk, and my skin tingled in anticipation. His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs caressing my lips lightly. And then his mouth replaced his touch. The white-hot kiss made my head spin while he flicked his thumbs over the thin lace covering my raised nipples. A current of desire coursed through me. I arched my back to press my breasts into his hands, but he pulled away in response.

  His low, heady laugh caught me off guard. “Oh no. I’m driving this time, mi cielo.”

  At first my instinct was to demand he step on the gas, but I forced myself to let him lead, go at his pace. I was rewarded with the return of his touch. His hands skimmed down my body, unbuttoned my jeans, and in one pass pulled them and my lace boy shorts to my knees. Kneeling before me, I groaned as his lips explored the space between my hipbones. He gripped my ass and squeezed, almost to the point of pain, but not quite. With my pants around my calves and my wrists bound, there wasn’t much I could do but moan my approval.

  My breath came in pants as his mouth neared the apex of my thighs. The wet ache there was raw; I thought a single touch might put me over the edge. I was right. His tongue darted out, licking my slit. I shattered.

  For a moment I was lost to the intense pleasure. When I came down
from the aftershocks, Rick was holding me up. I leaned into his shoulder while he worked to remove my boots and pants. “Safety first,” he said, grinning.

  In one easy motion, he stood and tossed me over his shoulder, holding me firmly by the back of my thighs. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.

  His hand slapped my ass, hard. I moaned. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the keen, sharp sensation brought the blood rushing to where his hand had been. The pulse of desire started anew. He hummed with satisfaction as the resurgence of my sexual appetite rushed down our connection. His hand slapped my cheeks again sharply, then rubbed the space between them, blissfully exposed by my position across his shoulder. I squirmed, my breasts grazing the muscles of his back.

  All at once I was tossed in the air, and manipulated face down and bottom up on the bed. I turned my head to the side and arched, ready and waiting for whatever he had in mind. I didn’t have to wait long. He entered me in one slick thrust, supporting my waist with his solid forearm.

  He moaned, his need throbbing between us. One palm settled in the arch of my spine, stroked down, and rounded over my hip. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. “You are … exquisite.” His breath rattled a little with emotion.

  I turned my head, met his hooded eyes over my shoulder, and licked my lips. “I’m yours remember. Drive.”

  Hitching my hips up with his hands, he went to work. He pounded into me faster and harder, until I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught and bit my lip. We came together in a ripple of light.

  When he finally pulled away, I rolled my wrist out of its binding and tossed the T-shirt aside. Flipping over, I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck so we were face to face. “My turn.”

  * * * * *

  “Park on the side of the road,” I said. Tabetha’s home was in rural Salem, off a rarely traveled dirt road inside a stretch of densely forested land. I could see the driveway to her residence up ahead, complete with an ordinary mailbox. The house number reflected in my Jeep’s headlights. I guess even ancient and powerful witches needed a way to get their electric bills.

  “Seems an odd choice to hold a love potion,” Rick said, glancing at the Duck Dynasty thermos in my hands.

  I leaned my head against the headrest. “I know,” I groaned. “It was the only one they had left at Red Grove Grocery and Pub.”

  “I doubt the container will make a difference one way or another.” Rick frowned.

  “I’m going to leave it in the car until she accepts our offer. Something tells me we should travel light.”

  “Agreed.”

  I shoved the thermos in the glove compartment.

  We’d arrived almost an hour early. Twilight. I’d have plenty of time to check out Tabetha’s domain before we were expected. I wanted to know exactly what I was getting into. We climbed from the Jeep.

  “Poe,” I said, “I need you to survey the property from the air. Try to stay out of sight, and only get involved if it’s a life-or-death situation, understand?”

  The raven bobbed his dark head.

  “We’ll meet back here when it’s over.” With a flutter of wings, Poe lifted from my shoulder and passed over the ten-foot privet surrounding the property.

  Rick and I walked the length of the wall to the drive, where a monstrous iron gate barred our path. A scrollwork T graced the left side and a V, the right. “What does the V stand for?” I asked. I don’t know why, but the idea that Tabetha had a last name seemed funny to me. I just assumed she only had one name, like Madonna or Eminem.

  “Van Buren,” Rick said. “She chose it for herself, of course. There are practicalities.”

  Electric bill, I thought. I pushed on the gate. Locked.

  Rick tapped my shoulder and pointed up. “If I remember correctly, there’s a switch inside the gate. It’s automated, but there is a manual override.”

  “If I can’t see it, I don’t think I can bamboozle it,” I said.

  He bowed slightly. “Then may I suggest the old reliable method? It would be my pleasure to give you a ride.” He started stripping out of his clothes. “Hold these.”

  When he lifted his shirt over his head, a zap of electricity traveled straight from my core to the surface of my skin. I swallowed as his muscles rippled in the indirect light of the setting sun. He reached for the fly of his pants and my heart did a jumping jack. Heat bloomed deep within me. I raised one eyebrow as my gaze settled on his ample endowment.

  He laughed. “Work to do,” he said with a sigh. My desire for him was burning up our connection, feeding his desire for me. That much was evident in the reaction of his body. I looked away and tried to think of unappealing things, like witches who wanted my caretaker. I turned back around at the sound of breaking bones and the rumple of leather on leather, his wings unfurling. A moment later, I was on his back and Rick was over the gate.

  “Sweet ride,” I said as I jumped from his back. My smile reflected in one of his large black eyes. He shifted quickly, landing a toothy kiss on my lips before lifting the pile of clothes from my hands.

  While he was dressing, I took a good look at the place. A long driveway lined with fruit trees stretched a good mile or more toward the residence. I couldn’t see the place clearly due to the trees and the mist that hung in the twilight, but the glimpses up the drive and above the foliage gave a definite impression. Tabetha’s house was a Victorian English-style mansion, almost collegiate, all long stone steps and brick walls, with rows and rows of windows and multiple chimneys poking out of her many-gabled roof.

  I stepped forward, stones crunching under my boots. “Is this pink granite?”

  Rick shrugged. He joined me, fully dressed.

  “I thought only Martha Stewart had a pink granite drive. Do you know how much this driveway costs?”

  “Tabetha is very wealthy.”

  “Good investments?” I asked. It was how Rick made his wealth. When you lived forever, interest, growth, and dividends took on a whole new meaning.

  “Yes, and consulting. As a wood witch, she has a knack for botanicals. She formulated the popular Zen line of cosmetics.”

  “Really?” I used Zen shampoo and conditioner. It was a miracle in a bottle. Fuck. I hoped this worked out. I did not want to have to find a new shampoo out of spite.

  He nodded and started walking toward the house. I followed but stopped short when a pair of reflective eyes flashed at us from behind one of the tree trunks. I grabbed Rick’s arm. “Look.” I pointed needlessly. Rick was already facing that direction. “I think it’s a deer.” An albino deer. The animal was ghost white with red eyes under its long lashes that locked onto me. A few steps closer and the doe raised her head, turned, and darted away.

  “The animals are eating the fallen fruit,” Rick said, pointing at the grass around the trunk where the deer had been. The trees were laden with bulbous red fruit that reminded me of pomegranates but were darker in color. Near my toes, the fallen specimen left half-eaten by the deer had deep purple flesh with green seeds. The texture reminded me of kiwi but different, definitely an exotic variety, if related at all.

  “There’s no snow here,” I said, absentmindedly reaching for one of the fruits.

  Rick slapped my hand away. “She’s a wood witch, Grateful. Do not touch the trees. They are surely enchanted.”

  I snapped out of it and continued walking up the driveway, looking in the direction the deer ran. I found the doe, waiting in the forested yard a few meters away, watching us watch her. “There’s a bunch of them,” I said, noticing her friends. “All albino. I’ve never heard of that before. Isn’t it a recessive gene?”

  He shrugged. “There are smaller animals, too. Likely attracted to the warmth as well as the bounty,” Rick muttered. He wrapped an arm around my waist and ushered me toward the house.

  I could tell he was nervous, and I couldn’t blame him. The fog swirling between the legs of the animals was creepy for sure, as was the silence and the ever-darkening skies.
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br />   “It’s because of the warmth,” I said abruptly. I shook my head when he looked at me in confusion. “The fog. When the cold air touches the warm plants, it causes the fog. The plants are warm from her magic, not the air.”

  “Oh,” he said, uninspired by my revelation.

  Fine. But I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out. A few minutes later we reached the end of the drive and the base of the stairs. If possible, the place seemed even larger close up. Green and purple ivy climbed up the corners, branching like veins across the front of the place. If I were to describe it in two words, I’d say “looming” and “alive.”

  “I wonder why a wood witch lives in a brick house,” I said.

  Rick grinned. “A wood house is made of dead plants, but a brick house is made of baked clay. This house is like a giant terracotta pot.”

  “Ah, I see. Hey, I just thought of something. Where’s her cemetery?”

  “The backyard. It is small compared to Monk’s Hill but significantly older. A Native American burial ground.”

  I turned to him in confusion. “She knocked you on your ass with a flick of her wrist and her cemetery is smaller than ours? How is she so strong with a tiny burial ground?”

  “A Hecate draws her power from her dead, but a witch as old as Tabetha has had hundreds of years to find ways to amplify that power.”

  “Like a familiar?”

  “Similar, yes. Although a familiar is one thing Tabetha does not have.”

  “What about the scarab beetle? It was imprinted on the candle and she wears a brooch.”

  “A symbol of power, yes. A talisman, maybe. But not living, not a familiar like Poe. Honestly, I’m not sure how she does it, only that she is considered the most powerful witch living in our time.”

  “Fabulous,” I said sarcastically.

  The front entrance was directly ahead of me, but I wasn’t done snooping. I climbed the steps but shuffled right and tried to look in the window. Hand shielding my eyes from the glare, I pressed my face to the glass. “Oww!”

  I saw a flash of green and then my entire body pitched into the air. I flipped over in time to face a giant sunflower as it repositioned me in its sticky green petals. When my shoulder touched the oozy center, my black wool coat smoldered, the stench of burning wool filling my nostrils. Fuck!