by Nikki Sex
Stafford believes he’s been in love with me ever since we crossed the Atlantic together. He’d been a mess when I took off without saying a word. This vulnerability frightens him and makes him angry. The idea of me leaving makes him angry too, but he hides it well.
What he feels for me is very much like what he experienced under a mating bond. Are we somehow mated? I’ll ask him about that, for sure.
He’s saddened I didn’t shift to wolf, yet I’ve demonstrated the power of healing. He thinks I am responsible for his seeming eternal youth.
Stafford lusts for power.
I have a truck-load of it, or at least my demon does.
This brings him back to his need to have me, possess me, and keep me as his own. This greedy desire makes him feel guilty for bonding me without consent, even though he does love me.
The world is not a kind place—a person’s position determines education, income, health, and security. When it comes to the supernatural world, however, magic and power are life and death matters.
For the Beast Lord, power represents safety and control for him and his kind.
No wonder he won’t let me go.
I can’t blame Stafford for his ambition.
My face heats, my heart jumps. It suddenly dawns on me: if I can read his private thoughts, can he read mine? Even my demon doesn’t know what I’m thinking. My mind has always been my safe haven, my only refuge.
Shit.
I begin pacing again, only this time, faster. On top of everything else, now I have to guard my thoughts?
“Stafford,” I ask with a careful voice, gripping the phone with a less than steady hand. “Can you read my mind?”
His indignation is genuine. “No, of course not.”
His reply is sincere. Wait, that means Stafford can’t read my thoughts, but I can read his?
Wonderful. I have my own personal demon, and sometimes I can read Stafford’s mind. No way am I going to mention this new ability. Great. Just great. Now I have two huge secrets to keep from Stafford.
He explains, “When I focus, like now, I can sense your emotions. I’m aware that something’s frightened you, and I’m sorry for it. In time, when you feel you can trust me, you’ll tell me. Until then, I promise I’ll try to make you happy and I’ll never hurt you. I love you, Jan. I’ve loved you for years.”
We both speak at the same time:
“Stafford—”
“Jan—”
A sudden blast of power flares between us, raising goosebumps on every inch of my skin, preventing either of us from being able to speak. Another minute passes while as we fall silent and still. We both try not to react to this delicious spike of magic.
I hear him panting through the phone.
I’m panting, too.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. It takes a lot to surprise someone as old as I am, but Stafford’s done it. He and I are close to something greater than physical release. Sexy and erotic as this is, what I feel is far deeper than any sensual connection.
On the other hand, if we were in the same room, we’d be naked and all over each other in a heartbeat.
Supernatural effects! Who can trust them? I didn’t have this problem earlier today. What’s changed? Is part of this connection simply due to talking to him on the phone? If so, maybe disconnecting will help.
“Stafford, I’m going to hang up and text you.”
“Good idea,” he says breathlessly.
He feels my resistance to this idea, as I sense his. We want to be closer—not further apart. Yet he doesn’t understand what’s happening either. Clearly, we’ve both become enthralled.
Carrying on as normal, while ignoring powerful magic you don’t understand, is never a good idea.
“OK, um…hanging up now,” I say.
With real effort, I manage to cut the phone connection. I exhale feeling both bereft and relieved.
Chapter 59. Mate Magic
A long string of text messages begins, starting with my own.
Jesus, Stafford. What the fuck have you done to me?
Nothing, I swear.
Have you bound people before?
Often. I bind myself to an unstable member of the pack, or to new wolves for their safety. I can’t bind someone who doesn’t want my help. You must want to be bound or the magic doesn’t work.
Seriously?
Wow. In my heart of hearts, I must have genuinely wanted to be with him. I hoped I could stay.
I may not tell you everything, but I promise I’ll never lie to you.
Can you get rid of our bond?
Of course. I always remove it when the pack member no longer needs close supervision.
Well, I think you better put an end to this one.
Not yet. I don’t trust you not to run. Besides, I want to identify why the bond is acting like this.
Like what?
Like a mating bond. You sense what I’m feeling, don’t you? As I feel you.
I hesitate, carefully considering my answer. I wish I could see his face. With that one thought I reach toward him on a psychic level and—bang—I’m with him.
I see him, hear him, revel in the heady male scent of him.
Stafford, immediately sensing my presence, gazes up at me through amber wolf eyes. He knows where I am, but he can’t see me. Not like I see him.
This is too much!
My knees weaken. I fall backwards, returning to my own body, and my own bedroom.
Christ. Have I become some sort of ghost-walker? Excluding what I have with my demon, this link I have with Stafford is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve astral-traveled with my demon, but this is completely different. I did this.
Yes. I manage to text reply. Is this a normal bond?
No, it’s more—far more. Male, female, old, young, every race or sexual leaning—nothing made any difference. My magic always works the same. You are the variable. You know that, don’t you?
I sigh. Yeah, that makes sense.
We have something, you and me. It isn’t only power and magic.
What do we have, I wonder? Pondering what to ask next, I don’t immediately reply to his text.
He sends: I love you.
Why do I feel guilty when he brings up the “L” word? Probably because I still believe I’ve metaphysically cheated him into feeling this way. But so what if I’ve tricked him? We’ve tricked each other.
I don’t know if it’s love, but I care for you, Stafford. I do.
I can be lovable. I’ll make you love me.
Thrown by his honesty, I don’t reply. Instead I send him a smiley face.
He takes a while to text back. I wait patiently, resisting the urge to be closer. I long to touch him, or to watch him through our bond.
I meant to tell you: Hope and Owen can shift instantly as though wolf born. All made werewolves who came to the full moon celebration now transform faster, too. You did this. You also healed my wounds.
Ah.
You did something to all of us. Something powerful.
I didn’t mean to. It’s true. My demon and I are in uncharted territory.
God, I want to touch him.
Without thought, I instinctively reach toward Stafford. Abruptly, I’m on his bed. I smooth my hands over his firm, warm chest. He’s fully dressed, but in my ghostly form, I can caress his skin right through his clothes.
Heat flashes through me, creating a storm of white-hot lust.
I’m not with him—but I am.
Stafford reacts with gasps of pleasure. Invisible or not, he feels me, and I feel him. Delighted, I stroke from his chest, down along his flat stomach, across to his thigh.
Stafford’s eyes darken as he breaths my name. His voice is a deliciously rough whisper. I don’t need to touch him to know he’s hard as iron.
Pulling back to my body and bedroom once again, I discover I’m breathless. Excitement and fear ride me hard. What’s happening to me now?
Hands
trembling, I text, Fucking Hell.
Fucking Heaven, more like.
LOL. Phone sex—on a whole new level.
May I call you?
Raw need spears through me—that’s my demon’s vote. My inner devil is all for it.
The man is in my head, in my heart, and in my soul. He’s been in my body, too. For the love of all that’s holy, it was glorious.
I can’t fight this magic. What’s worse is, I don’t even want to.
Do we even need the phone? I text back.
“No,” he whispers directly in my head. “We can speak mind-to-mind.”
My fingers relax, my phone falls to the floor. Metaphysically, I’m near him again. I float above him, but still not visible in my spirit form.
“I didn’t know we can talk like this.”
“Mated werewolves can.”
I look down to see Stafford in his room, lying on his bed. The covers are pulled back; his sheets are navy blue. Barefoot, in blue jeans and a t-shirt, his arms are behind his head, his biceps budging.
He’s so sexy.
Sensing me, Stafford stares up at the ceiling with wolf eyes. Once he was human, but his beast is where his magic lies.
I want to touch him…so I do.
The man smells delicious, his skin is warm and smooth. He doesn’t even have to take off his clothes, except that bulge in his pants could become uncomfortable.
I smile as I watch Stafford quickly strip.
“I’ve never heard of this magic, he informs me. “You shouldn’t be able to touch me like this—not even with a mating bond.”
“We must be special.”
“You are.” He grins.
“I’ve always had an affinity for ghosts. Maybe all that exposure taught me how to be one.”
His laugh is deep and masculine. “You’re no ghost—you feel real to me.”
I run a finger along his sensual lips. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Hell, yes! I’ve always wondered what it would be like making love to the invisible lady.”
I don’t hear Stafford’s thoughts. That doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t hear them. It means he’s not thinking—he’s doing. His mind is peaceful. No tangled mess. No inner conflict—he’s all firm, fast, decision.
I know what he wants.
I want it, too.
Chapter 60. True Magic
Perhaps my new ghost-walking ability is my demon’s response to the Beast Lord’s bonding. It is so strange and wonderful. I feel goose bumps rise, along with every hair on my body. How can I be there and here at the same time?
I love the rough, earthy magic of weres—but I’ve never made love with a werewolf metaphysically. That’s as close as I can label what is happening, anyway. It’s another first.
“I can touch you. Why can’t you touch me?” I ask.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
Typical man! With the sex-ignition-sequence started, he can’t think of anything else.
I snicker, but stop the moment my mouth covers his. Without a body, I can be anywhere, everywhere. Our every contact is pure magic. I touch, I taste—I can do anything…so I do.
We don’t talk. We don’t think. I’m all hands, fingers, teeth, and lips. My tongue lashes his mouth, while his animal energy rolls over me in waves. Every move is natural, primal, and powerful.
I take my time, savoring this intense experience. I massage, kiss, and explore every inch of him, starting at his compelling, masculine face.
Dark, sensual, deep and profound: Magic is everywhere.
There’s an energy exchange with every brush of flesh. The heat and texture of his body is similar, yet different. My “skin” against his skin feels electric, scotching hot, and unlike anything I’ve ever known.
Although he can’t touch me, he responds by kissing me back. I suck, lick, and nibble on his lips and tongue. I love how his body tenses, trembles, and strains. The feel, taste, and scent of him is divine. The stubble on his jaw makes my body tingle. I revel in his sharp intakes of breath, his groans, and gasps.
I want to devour him.
Why shouldn’t I do just that?
Slowly, I kiss and nibble his neck, shoulders, and chest. His dusky nipples are wonderfully sensitive as I suck and nip them, making him growl. Every time I hear his breath catch I linger there, exploring. He’s so responsive!
My own excitement matches his.
Ghost and man, we enjoy this utterly unique sex game. The Beast Lord is at my mercy—mine to do with as I see fit. After an eternity of heavenly teasing, I decide not to wait any longer.
I finally grip Stafford’s heated erection.
“God, yes,” he growls.
“Mmm.”
Slick and throbbing, I lick every inch. Naked heat burns between us. Powerful. Vibrant. Virile. Taking his hard length into my mouth, I suck rhythmically. I alternate between feathered caresses and firmer strokes.
Stafford’s strangled groans of pleasure become increasingly loud.
The soft wind of our combined power grows ever stronger, swirling into a savage storm. Sharp nips of energy electrify us, striking like sudden bolts of lightning.
Right now, I’m running the show. The Beast Lord is not in charge—this dominant alpha male who’s normally the boss of everyone and everything. Eyes shut tight against so much sensation, Stafford’s unable to do anything except take what I give him.
Powerless, he’s not in control and he loves it.
“You have no idea how good you feel,” he murmurs in my mind.
“On the contrary, I have a very good idea. It’s good for me, too.”
Excitement and anticipation burn through me. With tacit agreement, my demon and I don’t feed. For once, he’s not hungry. We’ll consume nothing until Stafford gives us his release.
Then we’ll feast on an energy banquet fit for kings.
Stafford’s amber eyes are dark with lust. The muscles in his abdomen tense as I climb on top and mount him. My body tightens as thick and hard, he fills me, stretches me.
The Beast Lord calls out with pleasure as I arch to accept all of him.
With nothing to hold on to, Stafford’s hands grip his sheets, straining with effort.
I’m going to ride him, to possess him, and to let him possess me. My ghostly fingernails mark his skin, while metaphysical teeth scrape his neck, threatening to bite and draw blood.
Instantly our power quickens.
If I’m not careful, I’ll come! As much as I crave release, I refuse to climax. I want Stafford to come first.
My blood pounds. My ghostly form rapidly surges up and down. Fast. Savage. I ride him, wild with desire. His raw animal power rushes through me—it’s intoxicating! The scent and taste of Stafford is like melted chocolate on my tongue.
I whimper, then moan. My moans turn to soft sobs—then loud cries.
His orgasm, when it comes, rips through us all: Stafford, his wolf, my demon, and me. A rush of violet energy blasts outward. It brings the euphoria of completion.
Filled with magic, Stafford and I bond even closer.
Life force! Power! Bliss!
My demon and I feed from the strength and magic of the wolf, from the vigorous sexual completion of Stafford, from bodies, minds, and souls. Unexpectedly, I view a rapid shuffle of the faces of the Beast Lord’s pack members—
—then his alphas, their pack members, a bear, some foxes. A number of shifter horse images cascade through my mind.
It is possible we’re feeding on all of them?
I drink, and drink, and drink, from the erotic cup of magic.
With this much otherworldly power, we can’t consume it all. My demon swallows it down only to return it in another form. Whatever energy we absorbed from the Beast Lord and the people of the magic lands, we give back twice as much.
Those involved must feel a powerful energy surge. I wonder if they had orgasms, too?
The idea makes me laugh.
I see a flash of
Toby, and snicker with the thought my canine companion is finally getting laid…kind of.
Who knows what my demon is doing to Wonder Dog? As my inner monster adores Toby to obsessive distraction, I’m not the least bit worried.
One thing I know about magic—it’s not meant to be protected, or hoarded.
Unused energy grows old and becomes toxic, much like the water in the dead sea. To remain pure, magic must flow—not be damned up and left to turn stagnant.
Magic flourishes and replenishes itself through use.
Many supernaturals become self-centered and emotionally isolated. They jealously guard their magic until their power is poisonous. Unbridled selfishness taints the soul.
I call it Ebenezer Scrooge disease. It’s akin to keeping money hidden in off-shore accounts. Wealth should be appreciated, shared, and enjoyed. It’s a lethal mistake to hoard, not to give back, or connect to others.
Greed is one of the seven deadly sins for good reason.
Later, as I’m falling asleep, I realize how much I value Stafford. I care for him—not through infatuation, spells, supernatural powers, or even because of our bond—although this bond is incredible.
After decades, I’ve finally fallen under a man’s enchantment. The urge to be with him—stay with him, is impossible to resist. Am I in love with Stafford?
It feels real. He’s honorable, thoughtful, intelligent, and scorching in bed. What’s not to love?
Isn’t it funny? I’ve been surrounded by magic, power, and otherworldly energy most of my life. After all these years, I think I’m beginning to understand.
Philosophers, authors, artists, and poets have all endeavored to explain love. From what I know now, love may be the most powerful magic of all.
Chapter 61. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
The next day, Tuesday morning, I wake and instantly think of Stafford. A tendril of psychic energy locates him running through a meadow in wolf form.
Warmth. The scent of the earth, the morning sun, mist from a nearby stream.
As with Hope and Owen, I can sense him when I consciously put my mind to it. Unlike Hope and Owen, I can do much more than just sense him if I want.
Stafford.
I grin, still buzzed with energy and affection for the man, not to mention the recent heavenly banquet of five humans crossing over. There’s blue sky outside, with a number of fast moving clouds. This morning’s forecast warns of a front moving in and afternoon rain.