Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

  Just to prove it, he took a step forward. She took a step backwards. Another step. And another. Until she was trapped between the table and him. With nowhere to go, nothing to do but plunge the dagger straight into his heart.

  Amira gasped. Suddenly, breathing was getting harder and harder. She desperately fought for control. For the gulp of fresh air. Finally, she inhaled. Deep. His intoxicating male scent.

  She shivered, her fingers loosened their grip.

  Was she insane? Totally. Did she care? Not even a bit. She’d been angry only minutes ago, but oddly she didn’t remember what about.

  “Do you want to hurt yourself?” His voice had a hypnotic effect on her.

  She didn’t even notice how her hands ended up in his, behind her back. All she cared was—they were in his. She dimly heard the sharp rattle of the knife meeting the floor. As if it had fallen miles away. She sensed his midnight eyes touching her skin. Please don’t stop…

  His embrace compelled her to succumb. Surrender to the sweet temptation. She desired nothing more.

  “Do you?” His eyes locked with hers in a silent, heated moment. Amira felt her bones melting in response.

  “I want you—” she licked her lips, taking in another strangled breath, “to kiss me.”

  Raven stared at her for a moment, not willing to believe her plea. Yet, the words shot straight to his head, heart, and some other throbbing places.

  Dear gods—how he wanted her. Always had. If there ever had been a wayward thought, or the smallest possibility of distancing himself from her, it flew away through the nearest window the moment she uttered that she wanted his lips on hers. He did too. Hard. Deep. No slow, lingering brushes. No chaste kisses.

  There was nothing gentle about the way their lips met. The way the fervent wave of heat crushed him, filling his insides inch by inch. It burned the air he breathed until his nostrils filled with scorching madness. Desire seethed through his body and erupted like a thundering volcano.

  He could swear something combusted. Spontaneously.

  Amira moaned, seduced by his possessive embrace. Uncontrollable, blistering fever cursed through her veins. She’d never experienced anything like this. She’d never even thought it was possible. But she could swear his desire was a living, breathing flame inside her.

  As his kiss intensified, she sank her fingers deep into his dark unruly hair, her nails digging into his skin and slowly trailing downward. He groaned into her mouth, sending waves of shuddering anticipation through her. It promised to take her deeper. Drown her in the ocean of desires. As if she wasn’t drowning already.

  Amira left all dark emotions behind her. She poured every last ounce of her frustration, loneliness, and all the mixed feelings she’d been carrying, into their kiss. Into the wild dance of their tongues, which neither was willing to tame.

  The madness that was this insane mating between their tongues consumed them both. Stripping off the last shreds of sanity, leaving just an inexorable desire. She moaned as he pressed his lips into the hollow of her neck, tasting the sweetness of her raging pulse. Caressing her skin. She ached for more.

  His fingers worked the laces of her gown, managing to loosen her so-stiffly laced bodice. And when she felt her breast throbbing in his palm, her nipple stiffening against his fingers, she almost exploded.

  It was magnificent. The feeling that embraced, swept, and overwhelmed her. She always thought she knew what magic was; only now she understood she knew nothing. This was magic. And not just the passionate kisses, the oh-so breathtaking caresses, or the feeling of being desired. It was him—nobody else, just him.

  It was them.

  The air was so heated around them, because of them, Raven fully expected to witness sparks dancing, fires burning. And he was burning along with it, along with her. Never in his entire life had a woman made him feel so fulfilled, so alive, so … deliriously insatiable. Nothing made sense anymore, yet somehow everything did. And all he wanted was more. More. More.

  Raven slid his hands down her back, down over her hips, gripped her bottom and lifted her up to settle her on the ledge of the table. Her thighs fell apart, welcoming him between her legs. She wrapped them around his waist, arched her back so his lips could descend onto her exposed breasts—an invitation to feast on her flesh.

  He hesitated not for a moment.

  Amira closed her eyes in the ecstasy of his hot tongue lightly circling her rigid nipple.

  She wanted to cry from the pleasure he brought her. It was addictive, contagious, something she didn’t want to stop, only to grow. To mount until it exploded, shaking their bodies to the core. She wanted more of him. All of him. Moaned again as his fingers rolled her nipple, stroked and gently tweaked it. He took the other one in his mouth and sucked. She gasped.

  I want you, Angel.

  It was an exotic sensation, being half-naked while he was still fully clothed. A fervid torture she was willing to endure for centuries as long as she was in his hands; but now, more than anything, she needed to feel his flesh, wanted to caress his heated skin.

  Amira lifted his head and put her lips on his. Her fingers went to unbutton his shirt and without even breaking their kiss, he slipped it off when she was through. Her hands slid over his muscled chest. Her fingers stroked and caressed his tanned skin. Her wrapped legs drew him even closer until she felt the rock-hard mount pressing between her spread thighs. She rubbed herself against it.

  She didn’t even notice the mere scraps of material in between; all she felt was a wave of heat surging, rising higher every time they met. The pressure was accumulating.

  I need you…

  Raven groaned as she rubbed against him. Again. His hands were on her calves, moving higher, under the skirt. “Ease your hold,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse and low.

  She surrendered to his hypnotizing plea, realizing his mind was fully accessible. It didn’t matter though. All she cared for at the moment was the passion they shared. Everything else could wait for another day. For another decade, she decided, if only he would keep caressing her in such a devouring way. Keep kissing her in such an enslaving manner. Keep…

  She moaned as she felt his fingers brush her inner thigh. Another wave of heat flooded her. It brought his desires, his emotions to the surface, uncovered his raging thoughts. It exposed his intensions. Every detail of what he wanted to do to her, every breath-taking image.

  Amira opened her eyes. “Your thoughts almost make me blush,” she whispered in an unsteady, low-pitched voice.

  “You are not blushing,” he managed between kisses and caresses.

  She looked into his smiling eyes and licked her lower lip, “I said almost.”

  With these words his eyes widened, jaw tensed, every muscle in his body stiffed. His fingers stopped an inch away from her nether curls. He didn’t know why, but he felt a sudden overwhelming impulse. His brain was forcing him to cease. His body screamed in protest, though.

  Raven felt he had less than enough strength for it. Still, he uncurled her legs and stepped back, trying to create a distance. To quench this burning desire inside him.

  Even looking at the confusion in her face was too much for him to deal with. Too painful. Too hard. Gods, but he was hard. And panting. He craved for her flesh more than he had craved for any other.

  “I can’t,” he uttered, “we shouldn’t.”

  Amira watched in devastation as he grabbed the shirt he had tossed down only minutes before and slipped it on. She slowly stood up, flicked the skirt down her long legs, and touched his hand. “Raven,”—she didn’t recognize this husky whisper as her own—“what’s wrong?”

  What’s wrong? He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t put his finger on it. Yet even if it was only a dim echo compared with the roaring thunder in his body, he couldn’t ignore it.

  “What is your name?” he asked, raking his own brain for reasons for such an uneasy quivering in his heart.

  She stood still, the answer not coming.

>   “Just as I thought,” he sighed.

  Amira sank to her knees as a loud slam from the closing door reached her. She took a deep breath—the first in the last hour, it seemed—and closed her eyes.

  With a loud clash every single weapon hanging on each of the four walls fell down. Amira’s eyes flared wide.

  What the hell was happening? Every time she met him, she swore she would be strong. And yet, every single time, she melted into a puddle. She knew she’d come looking for him to discuss something important. If only she could remember. Images of his mouth and hands on her were all her racing mind was producing.

  Amira shivered, overwhelmed by sensations. For a moment all she wanted was to hug herself and wallow in her misery. She refused. She was not one to wallow. She needed to think. Unfortunately, her unabashed fantasies aside, her mind was utterly blank.

  No, not utterly—her brows furrowed at the revelations the evening had brought her.

  She was not some silly, clueless chit who didn’t recognize lust when she saw it. And Raven most definitely lusted after her. True, in the end he rejected her. She was not going to wallow in self pity, though. Or feel humiliated because she’d practically offered herself to him.

  She was a big girl, and she could take responsibility for her actions. No guilt. No shame. Not about something she wanted. They both wanted. Yet, he’d stopped. When … she told him she knew his thoughts.

  She doubted he realized it. Not consciously at least. Otherwise there would have been questions. But he felt it. He instinctively protected his secrets. And on top of exposing his inner world to him, she had refused him her name.

  It was wrong to be with someone you didn’t trust completely. Being with a witch, on her terms … well, it invited trouble. Stupidity wasn’t a strong enough word. A man who came into a witch’s bed was risking enslavement far worse than any cage could impose. And she didn’t even tell him her name.

  Except, he knew too much about witches. What if telling her name was crossing the line? Ah, who was she kidding, she’d crossed the line five minutes after they’d met. She had disobeyed almost every order the goddesses had given her. What difference would another make?

  Amira understood where his actions had come from. Even if she was a bit shaky and angry at the rejection, she understood. It didn’t mean, however, that her heart felt the same. It craved him, but couldn’t fathom why he saw an untrustworthy witch when he glanced at her. His secrets were what she needed to survive after all, and she could’ve seized them. She hadn’t.

  She knew he was changing. Would have been a fool to expect it to happen in a day. Her little escapade with the dagger was a true miracle which would’ve ended in a bloody mess only a week before.

  More importantly, she wanted those secrets, not because she needed to survive, but because she wanted Raven to share his life with her. Willingly. Which was why Amira couldn’t give up. Was not going to give up. Ever.

  Chapter 17

  With heavy steps, Raven descended the stairs, completely lost in his own thoughts. He walked without noticing a single person, his mind utterly absorbed in the depths of yesterday’s events.

  Not even seeing his brother helped. The image of her welcoming, sweet body was imprinted on his mind. In fact, delicious moans thrilling him to the core, heating his blood, had become his constant companions. The night was already a torment. A cold, unwelcoming sofa he found—a prison.

  It was ridiculous to be reduced to sleeping in such a veritable torture device in a sun-chamber, but there was actually no other place he could rest his weary body. Except maybe in his own bed. With a woman he craved.

  He refused to think about it. Refused to even consider the possibility, or he would go insane for sure.

  She already haunted him, gatecrashing his dreams and refusing to leave, even when he woke up. If it was worth anything, he regretted leaving her standing in the middle of that room with her lips swollen, her breasts glistening from his kisses. Her crystal eyes wide with questions.

  Questions he really had no answer to.

  How had he mired down into such a morass? He had no idea. He just knew deep in his gut it was not right. To either of them. Especially to his brother who endured suffering while he…

  Raven broke the thread of his thoughts. His needs and desires were of the lowest priority. It was the way it had to be. And the way it should be. He reached for the doorknob, secretly anticipating seeing her standing with a dagger in her hand. Inviting him for another dance.

  Right! He snorted at his own stupidity as the empty room opened up for him. He reached for the dagger—the same one she’d held yesterday—carelessly discarded on the floor. And threw it at the wooden door, the sharp tip of the blade easily sinking into the surface.

  He barely registered piles of weapons everywhere. He grabbed another one, but as he was about to throw it, the door opened. She stepped in.

  “I thought I just might find you here,” said Amira, trying her damnedest to ignore the rush of heat flooding her traitorous body. She’d forgotten everything the day before. One would think she’d have learned her lesson. But with every last cell of hers becoming aware of a man gazing back at her, Amira feared she was in a danger of succumbing to his dark eyes yet again.

  The man who looked as if a cat had dragged him in shouldn’t have been this tempting to her senses. His clothes were rumpled, jaw unshaven, hair wild and unruly—though it seemed he had brushed his fingers through it repeatedly. He looked raw and rugged. And she had never seen anyone so gorgeous.

  Could you focus, already? she groaned inwardly. Amira closed the door, her brows lifting at the dagger sticking out. She rubbed her temples. It was so not the time.

  “You found me.”

  Yes, I did. “I really need to talk to you about Ryna.”

  “Who?” he shook his head in perplexity.

  “Robin and Lizzy’s baby girl,” she explained. “Have you seen where they live?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but proceeded with her thought “So, I was thinking … maybe you could take Robin as a footman, since the two of them are doing nothing save hovering around me.”

  “I really don’t need another footman, or any type of servant for that matter,” he stated; “There are too many as it is and—”

  “I don’t care—” she cut him off, her gaze catching fire more intensively with every passing second. “They need a better shelter. They need a room such as Jim and Willy share, for example.”

  “Now may I finish?” he enquired. She narrowed her eyes, but finally nodded.

  “As I was saying, there are too many servants here as it is and,” he purposely paused in the same place, “I was happy to give away the last empty room in the west wing yesterday.”

  If not for his brother, Raven would never return to this place. It was his property, but it wasn’t his home. Hadn’t been for a very long time. And while he mostly lived on a road, at least it served some good for others.

  He’d never intended to make this house or the lands around it a shelter for so many. All he’d done was save a few people by offering a place to stay, and with time the number kept growing and growing.

  Right now people were building normal houses, to replace the temporary shacks some had had to construct when the rooms became scarce. But the process was a slow one. Until then, the house was packed, with the last room offered to Robin and Lizzy.

  “And no relocations required,” he added. Except he was forced to sleep on sofas from now on.

  “Oh,” she gaped, forming a circle with her lips. Almost immediately she blinked at him and shook the confusion away.

  “About yesterday…”

  “Save it,” she cut him off. “I know what you are going to say, and we should leave it be. For now. I have more pressing matters of concern.”

  Raven arched his brows at her statement, but refrained from mentioning the fact that prisoners shouldn’t have matters of concern. Then again, was she really a prisoner? She had Jim and Willy as
guards, true, but something told him the pair of them wouldn’t stop her if she decided to fight them. This whole situation was one big mess.

  Why he didn’t just let her go was a mystery to him. It was not like he needed her. Hers was not the blood that could bring his brother back. Moreover, from the moment she’d saved Nyssa it was obvious she wasn’t being tortured here. And as crazy as it sounded even to his own ears, he sensed the witches coming.

  He should tell her, and yet, the words got stuck in his throat.

  “Just don’t conjure up any snakes,” he settled on requesting. He already had a jungle in his house. More of it was truly unnecessary.

  “Can’t promise you anything,” Amira answered, leaving the room. She might have wanted to stay and exact a little revenge on him, but she wasn’t sure she was strong enough not to surrender to the moment herself. After all, passion worked both ways. And was one hell of a distraction.

  Concentration was what she needed. She turned toward the garden, dismissing the idea of returning to the bedroom. Maybe her body would have been safer there, but her soul needed the energy only nature could offer.

  Without a second thought Amira sat on the grass and, disregarding whoever might see her, began singing. She was not taking the risk without her guiding melody again. Even if her song would affect others. She simply couldn’t depend on luck that someone would bring her back.

  Once again she felt separation from her body, heard the sound of her voice, saw the path she needed to go, took a deep breath in and silently, without anyone the wiser, found her parents. Just as they neared the dungeon used by the Order for torturing and keeping witches.

  Such places were kept secret. Even from some of their own. No wonder it took months for her uncle Regan to confirm his wife’s and daughter’s whereabouts. Not even being the king helped—probably only made it worse.