Pondering anything too deep wasn’t going to happen for much longer anyway, not when she took Rafe’s cock into her mouth. Small as she was, she didn’t think to try for a sixty-nine—it never worked with Jude. But Rafe urged her around with his hands and a fervent “please”, curved himself so she could reach.
He closed the heat of his mouth, that feline-dual heat familiar but different because it was his, over her aching clit.
Powers, the man knew how to use his tongue! Soft and fierce in turns, licking and suckling at her, making noises like a child shamelessly enjoying something delicious.
All the while his cock filled her mouth and his velvety balls filled her hands and his musky smell filled her senses.
It wasn’t the easiest or most graceful position. To take Rafe deep in her throat, Elissa ended up squirming away from his mouth so all she could get was the tip of his tongue flicking at her rather desperately. When Rafe’s tongue brought her dangerously close to orgasm, she’d lose track of what she was doing and let his cock slip away from her.
Not the worst thing for sex magic, though, these frustrating moments.
When they were coordinated, when his mouth and hers worked in sync, it was too much. That silken tongue on her clit, that velvet and iron cock in her mouth was too damn tempting.
She couldn’t let herself yield completely to the pleasure, had to store the power…and if she hadn’t been trying to give at least as good as she got, her body might have turned traitor on her and decided to just enjoy. As it was, she had to fight for self-control every second.
Waves of clear red pulsed, filling her, filling the room. His distinct copper and sage green and gold and her own spring green and silver mingled with the red. The power was peaking.
“Now,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cock.
Luckily, he understood.
He rolled onto his back and grinned like a smug idiot—or a very happy cat—as she straddled his hips.
No need for protection, because there was nothing to protect against. Duals were immune to the diseases that made human sex such a latex-laden affair, and the ones they were prone to didn’t transfer to humans.
And the two species weren’t cross-fertile, a source of regret for Elissa and Jude, but a relief in this case.
The first touch of Rafe’s cock brushing her pussy lips shocked her. So hot. So needed.
She took his cock in her hand, rubbed him against her clit until she was half-crazed with lust, seeing red even with her eyes closed, so close to orgasm she had to bite her lip to hold back. Hovering above him, she opened her eyes. Rafe’s hands clenched the sheets. His muscles stood out in relief, a sculpture of a man poised at the brink of ecstasy. She had to squint with her witch-sight to see him through the waves of magical energy surrounding them.
Were all duals naturals at being red magic partners or was Elissa just incredibly lucky?
Pain shot through her, real pain as if something was trying to reach in through her belly and tear out her heart.
Maybe she shouldn’t think about luck right now. Maybe she shouldn’t think at all.
She rose, positioned Rafe’s cock at her opening.
Breathed “Jude,” and envisioned him, safe and well and far from the Agency.
Took Rafe inside her.
It hurt, and not because he was so large. Oh, he wasn’t a small guy, and she liked that. But that first entrance felt so sweet and yet so wrong.
The Powers had cleverly designed cocks and pussies to fit together for maximum fun. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, though, not when she wasn’t with Jude. Wasn’t that the creed she’d learned, that the right one was always far superior to all other lovers?
Tears welled up, and she blinked them away.
She eased herself down, feeling Rafe stretch and fill her as if he belonged there.
Rafe raised his hips, meeting her halfway, not driving hard, but pushing into her as delicately as she’d been easing him in. It was a tease, a torment, a miracle. Magic crackled around them, and it took all her self-control to concentrate on that power, concentrate on building it and not grab his hands and put them on her breasts or on her hips so he could control her movements. Not start galloping. Not ride him to the finish.
When he was fully inside her, he pressed against the entrance of her womb. She felt full, yet still hungry.
She wanted to move. Wanted him to move with her, to push his hips up and take control, to flip her over and nail her to the bed.
Just a primal need, nothing more than an itch to be scratched. Not even a sexual itch, exactly, although that was part of it. More the need to make the pain and fear go away. He could do it, she could tell, could take a woman to a place where, briefly, she wouldn’t care about her troubles anymore.
But her troubles were the reason she was with him.
She pushed the thoughts aside, let her mind go blank, pulsed her inner muscles to squeeze down on Rafe’s cock, then release it.
She shuddered with pleasure and the need to do more—to touch herself, to touch him, to let him touch her, to really move—or to run away from this room and from him and from her own traitor body that was enjoying necessity far too much.
Instead, she contracted and released, again and again.
For as long as she could stand it, she knelt over Rafe’s body, his cock buried to the hilt inside her, the contractions of her sex around it and the racing of their hearts their only movement.
She kept her gaze on the far wall and tried to forget who she was with.
The sound of tearing fabric startled her into looking down.
Rafe’s face was contorted, his body glazed with sweat and taut as a bowstring. Caught up in his right hand, the bottom sheet was torn. “Please,” he mouthed, his voice inaudible, but his meaning absolutely clear.
Then he repeated it, “Please.” He wasn’t whispering. The crackling power had gotten loud enough she could barely hear over the static.
“Yes,” she said, then, “Yes” again, and moved, rising and falling on his cock, a sweet impalement.
A second later, his strong hands gripped her hips, not forcing her, but guiding her, and he rose to meet her.
She couldn’t see properly. She didn’t know if that was the nimbus of energy surrounding them or the tears misting her eyes.
Her orgasm was close, too close. She slowed her movements, but Rafe, caught in the moment, didn’t slow his and, oh, Powers, it was too much, with his hands on her hips and his cock deep inside and her clit grinding against him.
“Jude. Jude. This is for Jude.”
She hadn’t intended to speak out loud, had meant it as a private focus of intent, but Rafe heard.
“Yes,” he said, “for Jude.” She remembered the men kissing in the Otherworld, and the cock that was fucking her now in Jude’s mouth. Maybe this wasn’t so inappropriate after all, but some new kind of magic…
“Jude, Rafe…Jude!”
Elissa shattered, and Rafe roared wordlessly and joined her.
The room rainbowed with colored light, clear red and shades of green and silver and gold and the pink of love, the light’s source the place where their bodies joined.
Exerting her will, Elissa gathered some of the power to herself and sent the rest winging toward Jude, to protect him and bolster his defenses.
She sobbed, tears pouring down her face and splashing onto her breasts. When Rafe pulled her down and kissed her, she realized he was crying too—not quiet, manly misty eyes, but as messily as she was.
In comparison to what they’d just shared, the kiss felt almost chaste, tender. But his cock was lodged inside her and her sex still twitched, and it took all her willpower to neither start fucking him again, see if she could pull out another orgasm—this one just for her—nor curl up on his comforting chest and doze.
She forced herself to pull away from him and stand. Now, while the power was strong and fresh and coursing through her body, it was time to do more magical work.
For what they were about to attempt, they’d need all the help they could get.
Chapter Twenty-eight
She leaned over, kissed Rafe once more.
Somehow, she managed to keep it as chastely tender as his had been. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“My pleasure.” He sounded smug. He deserved to be, she supposed. Magic aside—and she couldn’t leave magic aside, not when the power they’d raised together zinged around the room and made the hair on the back of her neck stand like a brush with lightning—that had been some incredible sex.
“When you’re up for it, could you pack up some food—anything that won’t need cooking and will travel well? And anything else we might need for a long road trip without much money. I have an emergency bag in the car with bedding and clothes and some food, but it’s packed for two, not three. Then start doing your computer magic.” she The power spoke through her so she issued orders more than made suggestions. “The rest I need to do alone. Or at least it might work better if you’re not distracting me.”
She’d meant to throw him a bone, pay him a teasing compliment as she dismissed him, but as she said it, she realized it was true. If he stayed there, warm and well fucked and gorgeous in her bed, it would distract her, in all sorts of ways, including guilt and doubts she couldn’t afford to feel.
“Your wish is my command.” Rafe smiled wistfully and got up. “Usually I’m more of a cuddler, though. Not so much into the fuck and run.”
That was really not what she’d needed to hear. Or maybe it was, because Jude was a cuddler, too, and the image of her, Jude and Rafe all snuggled together in one big comfortable pile might be what the magic needed. She didn’t know why her magic wanted them together, but she’d work with it.
Rafe padded naked out of the room. She made a mental note to grab more of Jude’s clothes for him. He was bound to destroy a few sets while shifting.
Once again, she called upon the green powers of the earth, upon the rich, slumbering valleys and rocky hills around her.
The power, a sleeping giant, twitched hard enough that she wondered if it registered as a minor earthquake to normies. From root and seed, tree and shrub, unfurling bulb and dormant bud, the approaching spring and the napping winter land gave what it could.
Elissa also called upon air, fire and water. Growing up near the wild Pacific and living for several years in proximity to the two biggest Finger Lakes, she had some affinity for water. The waters of Seneca Lake graciously added their power. The lake never really slept, not even when its surface iced over. Over three hundred feet deep, its heart remained cold year-round, but never froze completely. The lake was mother and death here, creating a microclimate that allowed vineyards to thrive in a climate normally too cold for them, but bringing lake-effect storms almost as violent as those on the Great Lakes. Cool, moist power flocked to her, and it was benevolent and menacing, healing and killing, not as fierce as what she’d be able to draw near the ocean, but strong enough.
What she didn’t expect was the other power of the lake.
The lake held some of its dead. The deep, frigid waters were haunted by those whose unclaimed bodies left them attached to the place where they drowned. She caught a whiff of death, but no decay, and she tried not to scream as the dead surrounded her, latched onto her aura. They would follow, she knew instinctively, wherever she chose to lead them, would surround and menace anyone she pointed out.
It wasn’t a power she’d ever wanted, but if it could help Jude, help bring down the evil, she’d embrace it. Then she would send the lake dead to their rest, because no one deserved to be trapped in a forty-degree limbo forever.
A breeze in the well-insulated room reassured her—air was with her, too, though no stronger than usual. Fire answered her call more readily than she expected. It danced in the hearth for her willingly enough, but she’d never felt any real affinity toward it. Today, though, the warmth zinged to her, added itself to her pool of power as if she was a true fire witch.
Her palms itched and tingled remembering yesterday’s flames, both the pain and the feeling of power just out of reach. Could she learn to control fire? Who knew what had come to her through Grandma Josie’s wild genes?
Elissa felt taller, heavier, altogether more massive. The power she took in made her feel like she was expanding, growing redwood-tall with roots like an oak.
She had to remind herself it was illusion, that she couldn’t go stomp on Agents like a mutant out of a bad movie. Pity. “The Attack of the Fifty-Foot Witch” would be useful against their enemies.
When she turned at the sound of Rafe approaching and saw his expression, she wondered for a second if she’d actually grown. Unfortunately, she still had to look up at him a little. But awe filled his eyes as he mouthed, “You’re glowing. A lot.”
Her body might not be any bigger, but her aura felt like Godzilla. Wouldn’t work for stomping Tokyo, or rather the army base, but it must mean she’d sucked up plenty of power.
She opted not to ponder what it meant that Rafe could see her aura. Jude could smell hers, after a fashion, but seeing auras was a witch/shaman thing, not something even the most keen-sensed dual should be able to do. Certainly not one who had just stopped taking Drozz and was still getting used to his new senses.
“I’m ready,” she said. Her voice vibrated in the charged room like a Tibetan singing bowl. “We need to go as soon as I’ve grabbed some things.” She opened the closet, grabbed a duffel, started flinging warm clothes into it haphazardly.
“I’ve gotten in, logged on using one of Maggie’s passwords and downloaded her files onto my laptop. Now all I need to do is copy them onto a flash drive or six for security.”
“Take it with us. Work while we drive,” she said, astonished by the authority in her tone. “We need to move. I can’t hold this much longer.”
—
They took her hybrid Highlander, but Rafe went to his truck and grabbed a handgun and a lock box out of his glove box before they left. Part of her brain noted that she didn’t object. Guns scared her the same way magic scared normies and for much the same reason: she didn’t know much about them, and while she knew they didn’t go off and shoot people all on their own, some primitive part of her believed they might. However, she was so far from a normal frame of mind she registered the gun as just one more tool they could use to get to Jude.
She wasn’t sure how she managed to drive with her focus three-quarters in another world, her witch-sight highlighting the auras of living things and the energy stored in non-living ones rather than their physical shape and size. But Rafe needed to deal with the computer. With the amount of power she stored, she’d zap the thing if she touched it.
It helped that once they got out of Geneva proper, there wasn’t much traffic.
A late-season storm was building, one system sweeping down out of Canada, another coming northwest from the coast, and they’d hit with a roar in the Finger Lakes and points north later that day. Already snow spat from a sullen, leaden sky and the wind had a dangerous edge.
A sane person would have concluded this wasn’t the best time to be out at all.
Elissa, so stuffed with magic that she wasn’t exactly sane, thought, More power. Storm energy wasn’t something she usually tried to draw on—too violent and unpredictable—but violent and unpredictable sounded good at this point.
About five miles outside Geneva, a state trooper appeared out of nowhere, sirens screaming.
She set her will and the spirits and earth powers upon him. Nothing bad, she specified, nothing that would harm him—but she didn’t have time for this shit now.
When she looked back, the statie had pulled over, gray steam pouring from under his hood.
He most likely couldn’t see that some of the steam wore the faces of drowned men and water spirits.
They reached the old army base without further incident. But where, exactly, was the compound?
She pulled over, got out of the car, walked
around to Rafe’s side—each step sucked more energy from the ground beneath her feet—and opened his door. “Drive,” she said, not even bothering to couch it as a request. The magic was too thick now. It wanted to get out. It wanted to lash out. But first it needed its target, and she wasn’t safe or sane until it found it.
“But I…”
“Drive.” She got in, leaving little choice for him but to scramble into the driver’s seat.
She opened her senses, not the five shared with every other human, but the two that only witches and their ilk possessed.
All the natural energies of the place rose in clear relief: forest and field, ghost and living being, animal, mineral and plant. She sought the blank spot among these energies, the void that marked an area that had been shielded all too well.
She found it.
Wordlessly she pointed, and Rafe drove.
When they ran out of road, he stopped, but she pointed again and, with a shrug and a quiet, “It’s your suspension,” he drove off the asphalt and into the woods.
It was bumpy, but not as bumpy as it should have been. A track ran through the woods, not a road, not even a logging trail, but an area about a car-width wide that was reasonably smooth and free of obstructions.
She wasn’t surprised when they came to a parking lot that shouldn’t be there.
The tiny concrete building didn’t seem big enough to be what they were seeking. “It looks more like a storage shed,” Rafe said. “Are you sure?”
“It’s only the stairwell. Everything’s below ground.” She wasn’t sure how she knew.
She stepped from the car and nearly collapsed.
A blast radius of malice emanated from the little building.
It almost covered up the older stench of destruction. That hadn’t been deliberate evil, merely carelessness as the army damaged farmlands it had appropriated during the emergency days of World War II and never returned. Now they were repairing the damage, but toxins had seeped deep into the soil and the earth beneath her feet throbbed with pain, its vegetation weakened and diminished.
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