The Witch's Familiars_A Reverse Harem Fantasy

by G. A. Rael

  Again, she could only nod. There weren’t words for this kind of thing. The perfect melding of their bodies and those ethereal vessels that seemed to exist in another dimension entirely. He kissed her gently and began to rock his hips against her, moving in and out with more force each time. His toned chest and sculpted torso brushed against her soft breasts and stomach each time he thrust into her until the lines between them became blurred.

  Jordan gasped as the heat that had been building up inside of her exploded into a fire and she trembled violently underneath him. As she came, she dug her nails into his back and realized too late that she was probably hurting him. Chase chuckled knowingly in her ear, reassuring her that all was as it should be. In fact, he seemed more aroused than ever.

  "What lovely sounds you make,” he purred into her neck, groping her velvety flesh as he ground into her with more intent. The change in angle sent another surge of pleasure deep inside of her. ”I think I'd like to hear it again," he said, driving into her in such a way that made her cry out in pleasure.

  When Jordan realized that her nails had drawn blood on her lover's back, she groped the earth behind her head in order to spare his flesh. Her own breath was becoming as ragged as her lover's as he moved inside of her. Her shallow breaths turned into panting and her hips arched into him instinctively. So deep was her bliss that she didn't notice the grass beginning to singe a circle around them.

  Chase’s mouth had returned to her neck as he fondled her breasts, seeming intent on claiming as much of her body as he could with his. Jordan's hips bucked in time with his in an impossible attempt to bring them even closer together. Maybe it was the point when the pressure on her neck turned to pain or when the pleasure between her legs became too much to bear without crying out a name that almost certainly wasn't Chase, but in a single instant the smoking grass exploded into a circle of flame.

  Jordan cried out sharply as a ring of fire engulfed them and Chase collapsed on top of her with a shudder. They stared at each other, unblinking and panting. Once the initial shock wore off, Chase rose off of her and stared at the flames in utter bewilderment.

  Jordan got to her knees and stared with him in equal disbelief as she held her neck. Had it been her imagination, or had he bitten her? The thought was fleeting in her mind as the flames climbed higher.

  “What the hell…?”

  “Yeah…I think that’s my fault,” Jordan said hoarsely. The heat from the fire was already making her dizzy.

  Chase blinked and obviously didn’t know what to say to that. He grabbed his jacket off the ground and threw it on the fire. His attempts to smother the flames were met by a roaring blaze that consumed his jacket in a matter of seconds and left the infernal circle unbroken.

  The impossibility of what Jordan had just witnessed snapped her out of shock. She fumbled through her discarded clothes and took out her phone, dialing Hermes' number since she was pretty damn sure this wasn’t the kind of flame any human fire department could put out. She made it past the third digit before her phone went dead. “Shit!”

  Chase was watching her like most people in town already did. If they did survive, Jordan would be surprised if she didn't end up in a padded room. Nonetheless, he followed suit and took out his phone. "It's dead," he said in disbelief. "I don't understand, I just charged it."

  Jordan stared listlessly at the fire. "It's not your phone that’s the problem.”

  He was silent for a moment, save for his cough. "This isn't normal fire, is it?"

  "No," Jordan murmured, still looking into the flames.

  "Can you stop it?"

  "I don't know, but I’m going to try,” she said, trying to focus on the mental image of the flame receding. Hermes had taught her to visualize whatever it was she wanted to happen, and it had always worked with healing. Then again, she’d spent her whole life practicing that ability and she had no reason to believe it wouldn’t work. Putting out fires she’d started with her mind was uncharted territory.

  "Please do,” Chase said, breaking into a coughing fit that lasted longer than the others had.

  Jordan closed her eyes and focused intently. "Hermes," she whispered. When no response came, she tried a little louder, "Hermes, please! If you can hear me, I need you."

  Chase was staring at her again. “Are you calling for your cat?”

  “It’s…hard to explain,” Jordan coughed. The ring of fire flickered and climbed higher than ever before, as if reaching for the moon, before it shrank down. Jordan wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought it was a bit lower than it had been before.

  "It's working," Chase wheezed. "Whatever you did is working."

  Jordan's pulse thundered in her ears. All she’d done was get pissed at her familiar for going MIA when she actually needed him. Maybe fantasizing about strangling cocky demons was the key to controlling her newfound pyrokinesis?

  Doubtful but worth a shot, she decided. It wasn’t like they had any better options available and Jordan was not eager to help fate with its obvious goal of killing her with fire.

  Maybe anger itself was the key. She closed her eyes and thought of Darren, since he had always elicited the strongest emotions from her, both positive and negative. The thought of him mocking her in front of Allison was enough to do the trick. Maybe they had even shared a laugh about how he'd made her squirm just by touching her, like the pathetic, pent-up idiot she was...

  Her eyes opened and the flames looked larger.

  “I don’t know what you just did, but I don’t think it’s working,” Chase choked out.

  “No kidding,” Jordan muttered, reaching out toward the flames. Now she knew that they were at least somewhat linked to her emotional state. It just didn’t seem to be in any way that she could influence.

  “What are you doing?” Chase asked, remarkably calm for someone surrounded by magic fire.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted, squinting into the blaze.

  “Why do I get the feeling this has happened before?”

  “It has once,” she said in a strained voice. “I couldn’t stop it then, either.”

  Chase’s silence made her worry that he’d passed out from the smoke, but she froze when she felt him behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “If you made this, then you can stop it. Try drawing it back into yourself.”

  For a second, Jordan didn’t know how what to make of his words or the confidence behind them. “I don’t think —“

  “Try,” he urged, his grip tightening on her shoulders. Something in his touch grave her strength as much as it had given her pleasure minutes earlier.

  Jordan refocused on the blaze and did as he suggested, imagining the screaming tendrils of flame being pulled back through her fingertips. To her amazement, the mental image became reality and the fire began to recede from the earth as it came to rest in her hands. They both glowed with hot orange flame for a few seconds, but while the heat was still unbearable, Jordan’s flesh remained unburnt.

  Before the shock could fade, the flame disappeared entirely and Jordan stared down at her smoking palms. “What the fuck?”

  Chase coughed, waving away the smoke that lingered in the air. “Nice job.”

  Jordan stared at him. “How the hell did you know to do that?”

  “I didn’t,” he said, his voice still rough from the smoke. “It’s an old meditation technique and I thought it was worth a shot.”

  The realization that they were only alive by chance made Jordan even more lightheaded, but Chase’s response was almost more concerning.

  "So," he said, gathering Jordan’s clothes for her before he pulled his own back on. "That whole witch thing. It's not just a rumor, is it?"

  "No," Jordan said with a strangled laugh. “It’s not.”

  “Can’t say I saw that coming,” he remarked, running a hand through his hair as if to make sure it hadn’t caught on fire. Only he would still be concerned about his appearance at a time like that, thought Jordan. “
I suppose I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” she asked in disbelief. “I’m the one who almost killed us both.”

  “For not taking you seriously.” He gave her a hint of a smile that reminded her of the intimacy they’d just shared. “I knew this town was full of strange happenings, but until tonight, I never saw anything I couldn’t rationalize. At least after a few beers.”

  “I know I’m really not one to talk, given the circumstances, but you are a very strange man,” she muttered, pulling her shirt back on.

  Chase laughed. “So I’ve been told.” He cocked his head. “So Stu Herbert… You really did heal him, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Well, sort of. Most of the time, I use tinctures and salves. This is really the first time it’s been so…direct.”

  “Huh.”

  “‘Huh?’” she echoed. “You almost died and that’s all you have to say? Huh?”

  “I’m an empiricist, Jordan. I believe in what I can see and touch, and well… There’s no denying that what happened tonight was real.”

  Jordan blinked. Maybe it wasn’t going to be such a shock for him to find out he was her consort, after all. She just knew that she needed to figure out what that meant before she finished turning his world upside down. “I’m not sure if I should thank you for being understanding or take you to the hospital to get your head checked, but…thanks.”

  "I'm not going to lie, that's the first time I've ever made a girl spontaneously combust--or call out another man's name, for that matter,” he mused.

  Jordan cringed. "I didn't--"

  "It's okay," he said, holding his hand up to stop her. "I could tell you weren't over Darren as soon as we saw them at the restaurant. Luckily I'm not the possessive type. We can keep this open ended until you figure out what it is you want.”

  Jordan stared at him, almost as shocked by his reaction as by whatever had just happened to her in the forest. "You say that like you actually want to see me again."

  "Next Friday, if you're free."

  She opened her mouth but no words would come for a moment. "I almost set you on fire and you want a second date?"

  "Third, technically," he clarified. "And yes, but preferably somewhere a little less flammable."

  "But --"

  Chase stepped closer and pressed a finger against her lips. "Like I said, I'm a pretty openminded guy. How about I pick you up at eight o'clock?"

  Jordan nodded. "Okay… sounds good."

  "Perfect," he said, cupping her chin. "Just prepare yourself."

  "For what?"

  A wicked grin spread across his face. "Next time, I can guarantee it's my name you'll be screaming."

  Thirty-Two

  Jordan returned home that night ready to scold Hermes for his utter uselessness as her supposed guardian and mentor, but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn't unusual for him to come in late after prowling around and doing whatever it was that demons did at night, but when evening turned into the wee hours of the morning, she began to worry. When the weekend turned into the middle of the week and he still wasn't back, worry turned to panic.

  It was common for Jordan to wake up in the middle of the night to find the white cat sitting on her chest, staring passively at her. Her sleep was interrupted plenty of times over the next few nights when she finally managed to succumb to her exhaustion, but her own personal incubus was nowhere to be found. It wasn't like him to disappear for so long and she couldn't help but worry that her explosion in the forest had something to do with it. Even Mrs. Herrin had noticed his absence.

  When the front door opened and Hermes stumbled in days later wearing a pair of designer sunglasses he had more than likely stolen and sipping a frothy drink from a coffee chain that didn't exist anywhere within a hundred miles of Cold Creek, Jordan was torn between throwing her arms around him and throttling him.

  First one, then the other, she decided. “Hermes!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his lean torso to squeeze him as tightly as she could.

  "Geez, if you want a sip of my mocha, all you have to do is ask," he said, resting a hand on her head.

  "Five days," she said through gritted teeth, giving him a shove. "You were gone for five fucking days without so much as a word."

  "Good to know you become profane and angry when I'm gone," he said, looking her over. "And apparently you also forget that denim never goes with denim.”

  Jordan looked down at her denim vest and tight black jeans, frowning. “You're not getting out of this one with sassy one-liners. Where were you?”

  He sighed heavily and flopped into a chair at the kitchen table, slipping off his sunglasses to reveal his bloodshot eyes. He grimaced at the light and rubbed his temples. "Fine, I’ll tell you, just stop yelling. Your accent comes out when you're pissed off and I feel like I'm being yelled at by a lesbian cowgirl."

  Jordan shrugged out of the vest that was so obviously distracting him. Tina had insisted that retail therapy would cheer her up, but it was obvious that her fashion advice was not to be trusted. She dropped the vest and the moment it left her hand, it burst into flames before turning into a pile of ash.

  Hermes leaned heavily on the table, a hand buried in his tousled white hair. "Looks like the Lake of Fire is good for something, after all."

  "I'm glad you had such a fun time partying," Jordan muttered, rummaging through the cabinets. She found a few herbs and snipped a bud off her lavender plant, taking more pleasure than she wanted to admit in pretending it was a lock of his beloved hair. "I see even you aren't immune to hangovers."

  "You know, if you're gonna act like a wife and make me feel like shit every time I come home trashed after a night of debauchery, I should at least be getting laid.”

  "Four nights," she reminded him, setting a mug of the freshly brewed elixir in front of him.

  Hermes eyed the concoction warily and his nose wrinkled when he sniffed it. "You know the magic potions I've been teaching you to make won't work on me, right?"

  "It's not witchcraft, it's a hangover cure I learned from Mrs. Herrin. I want you fully present while I tear you a new one."

  "Sounds fun," he said listlessly, taking a sip only to cough and spew it out.

  "Dammit, Hermes, just swallow."

  His tired eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh, if --"

  "If only you had a nickel for every time you heard that, yeah, I know," she said, rolling her eyes as she held the cup to his lips and tilted it back, knowing that he would eagerly drink if it meant sparing his outfit. "Bottoms up, Beelzebub."

  He coughed and sputtered but he choked it down, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Little do you know, that's flattery where I come from."

  "I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. How's your head?"

  He paused for a moment and sat up straight. "It's probably just a placebo effect, but better. What's in that hogwash, anyway?"

  "It's a secret." She finally knew something he didn't and wasn't about to let that change any time soon.

  "Well, aren't you smug," he said, tapping his nails on the table. "And here I was hoping all that sanctimony was wrapped up in your virtue."

  Jordan stared at him in shock. "How did you --?"

  "That's not important," he said with a wave of his hand. Another chair slid across the floor and she fell into it. "The more pertinent questions are the who, where, when and how? I want details."

  "What about the why?"

  "Sex is the why, cupcake."

  Jordan sighed, struggling to remember his list of inquiries. “Chase, in the forest last Friday during our date, and I'm not really sure how to answer the last one."

  "Ah, so the hunky lawyer finally let you into his briefs."

  She frowned. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

  "Give me a break, I'm still not at a hundred percent. How did you end up in the forest? I hope you checked yourselves for ticks after."

  "The only bloodsucking parasite I have to worry about is you. I don't know how it happened," s
he admitted. "It certainly wasn't planned. We were just out for dinner when Darren and his fiancée showed up, and --"

  "Whoa, roll that back," Hermes said, leaning forward. "Since when does the vet have a fiancée?"

  "Since he asked her to marry him last week."

  "I thought this was the same high school sweetheart who broke his heart and boned another guy before they could even set a date for the wedding."

  "That's her," said Jordan, pouring herself a cup of tea.

  Hermes' pale brows lifted. "And how do we feel about that?"

  "I feel fine," she said pointedly, taking another sip. "I could have used a shoulder to cry on a few days ago, but I'm over it. Mostly."

  He gave her a dubious look. "Well, I'm sorry. If I'd known it would be such a big weekend for my little baby, I would have stayed home."

  "It's not the handholding I'm upset about, it's the fact that I almost died and you were nowhere to be found."

  "Hang on, how did it progress from awkward dinner with your ex and his new-old flame to deadly forest sex?" He frowned and his eyes took on a dangerous glint. "Did something happen to set you off? Do I need to pop the bronzed head off of Lawyer Ken's neck?"

  "No," she said quickly. “Chase didn't do anything, he was... well, he was wonderful. And I’m pretty damn sure he’s also my consort.”

  Hermes’ eyes widened. “So I was right. One for two’s not bad, I suppose. I was starting to lose faith in my own infallibility.”

  “You could have warned me there was a chance of hellfire if we had sex.”

  “So he’s the one who holds the key to pyrokinesis,” Hermes mused, clearly untroubled by her near death experience. “Never would’ve figured that, but these things have a way of surprising you.”

  “So you did know,” she hissed.

  “Don’t get your granny panties in a bunch. Where do you think the fire in Arkansas came from?”

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “It was different this time. It was terrifying, but it was slightly more controlled.”

  “So are you,” he answered.

  “Why now?” she muttered. “Why did it take this long to resurface again?”