Moon Coven: a Paranormal Witch Romance

by Conner Kressley

  “I don’t see why I should,” Roman answered. “I don’t see where it concerns me. Who was she anyway?”

  April looked at him as though he was joking. “Are you kidding me, Roman? She’s practically the matriarch of the entire Fairweather coven. She’s the one who built the Moon Temple. You can’t seriously be at war with these people and not know that!”

  “Great. Who gives a damn? Send flowers.” Roman picked his crossword puzzle back up.

  “Hey!” April yelled, ripping the paper from her brother’s hand. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this whole detached thing is not okay.”

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked, standing up again and huffing. “Some old bitch died. She probably deserved it.”

  “You don’t mean that,” April said, shaking her head. “And you never answered my question.”

  Roman moved toward his sister, eyeing her up and down and setting his jaw.

  “What question?” he asked, his voice flat and hard.

  “You know what question,” April said, matching her brother’s tone.

  “Ask me again, April,” he said. “Ask me if I killed some defenseless old woman.” His hands balled into fists at his side. “As if you don’t know me. As if I’m some common thug. Go ahead!” he screamed. “Ask me again!”

  “Lower your voice,” she commanded, daring to hold his stare. “Do you think I wanted to come in here? Do you think this is something I’m comfortable with? I would give anything to be able to believe in you the way I used to. But I can’t, Roman. You’ve done too much. I’ve seen too much. My brother—the brother I knew—he’d never let hate take him over like this. He’d never allow himself to turn into this thing, this shadow. And he sure as hell wouldn’t turn his back on the one person who believed in him.”

  “I haven’t turned my back on you,” he answered.

  “I’m not talking about me!” She threw her hands up, then let them flop to her sides. “God, how stupid are you? She loves you! She loves you, and she’s practically begging you to come and save her.”

  Roman looked away.

  “All she has to do is ask.”

  “We don’t always use our words to say things, Roman. And we can’t always admit what we want, even to ourselves.”

  He shook his head. “She’s engaged.” He thought about the other night, about the passion and the heat. And about how it was probably the last time it would ever happen between them. “She belongs to someone else. If she wants to change that, then it’s on her.”

  “She doesn’t belong to anybody,” April said. “And, if you’re not willing to fight for her, even a little, then maybe you don’t deserve her.”

  “I didn’t kill that woman, April,” Roman said, blinking hard.

  “Fine,” she said, though he couldn’t tell whether she believed it or not.

  God, how far had they fallen?

  “You know,” she started, tears forming in her eyes. “I used to look at the two of you and it made me believe. I believed in love, in happiness. Looking at the two of you, I knew that no matter what garbage we were surrounded with, everything was going to be okay. It had to be, because the two of you were together. And the world couldn’t be that bad.” She nodded her head. “But now, I look at you and I’m not sure what I see anymore. Maybe I was right the first time. Maybe your stars are just too far off.”

  She turned and headed toward the door.

  “April, I—”

  “Don’t,” she said, not breaking stride. “I don’t even know what to say to you. I hardly even recognize you anymore.”

  Chapter 17

  Julia paced back and forth. She shouldn’t have done this. She knew that the instant she hung up the phone. Meeting Roman was too dangerous, especially now. If anyone saw them together, it would undoubtedly lead to even more destruction, even more heartbreak. They would be better off to leave each other alone.

  But she couldn’t do that.

  Julia hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, about that night in his apartment, about that night in their dreams. He was a part of her and, like it or not, being without him was like being without water. She had no idea how she managed for so long back in Iowa. But, Paris or not, she couldn’t handle being without Roman again. At least not tonight.

  She was a nervous wreck as she looked out the window. This safe house was cloaked and, as far as she knew, neither Fairweather nor Blackwood magic could pierce it.

  Wheeler magic might be something different, but she had told Paris she was going to get a pedicure, and there was no reason he would come looking for her. Especially not here.

  This sweet shop had been one of Julia’s favorite places as a child. She used to stay in it for hours at a time, snapping up free samples, sniffing sweet aromas, and watching the tourists as they milled in and out.

  Savannah was a melting pot of people during busy seasons, and Julia used to pretend she was all of them.

  When this place closed down, Julia felt as if she was losing a piece of herself. But she found a way to repurpose the old building.

  After she and Roman got together, Julia took him here. She wanted him to know this part of her. And, in a strange way, it became their place.

  This building that had given her so much joy as a child then stood for a different kind of joy as she got older. And, standing here now, wondering whether or not Roman would actually show up, she hoped to regain that joy.

  Of course, all of that depended on his answer to a one particular question.

  As the door opened, Julia’s heart jumped. She turned quickly, elated to see him standing there.

  Roman wore a black collared shirt, tight blue jeans, and a smirk on his lips that made Julia melt. Why was he always so damn good looking?

  “You came,” she said lightly, only now realizing how afraid she was that he wouldn’t show.

  “Of course I came,” he said, closing the door and walking toward her. “You asked me to.”

  “I wanted to see you.” She walked toward him as well, quickly bridging the gap between them.

  “Obviously,” he answered. “What about?”

  She bristled at his curtness but soldiered on. Maybe he was upset about something. Or, more likely, everything. Maybe she needed to remind him of a time much less emotionally charged.

  “I remember when I didn’t need a reason to want to see you,” she said, looking him up and down.

  “And I remember a time when your left ring finger was bare.” He cleared his throat. “Things change, Mrs. Wheeler.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Julia balked, surprised at how quickly and sharply the breath caught in her throat.

  “Why not?” He looked away from her and ran his finger along the edge of an old wooden table. “That’ll be your name soon enough.”

  “You know what that’s about,” she answered, swallowing hard. “I have to marry him. It’s not my choice.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” he muttered.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Care to repeat that a little louder?”

  “You heard me,” he answered, turning back to her. “I’m through giving you a free pass. You can say all you want about duty and family and all that shit. But the truth is, you’re a grown woman, Julia. And, if you wanted, you could do whatever you wanted.”

  Julia couldn’t believe her ears. Roman had been all for this. He understood what she was doing this for, and he didn’t blame her for it.

  Until now.

  “You know that’s not true. You can’t hold me to that standard.”

  “Why not?” he asked, scoffing loudly. “I hold myself to it. When we were together, I wanted to leave with you. I begged you to go. We could have been together. Fuck the feud. Fuck our families. Fuck all of it. But you couldn’t handle it. They were more important to you than I was. And then…oh, and then…” he said bitterly, shaking his head. “The icing on the cake. You left anyway. Without me.”

  Julia couldn’t stop herself. She reare
d back and slapped him across the face. It was the first time she had ever struck him, and the first time she’d ever wanted to.

  “Don’t you dare!” Tears swelled in her eyes. “You have no idea what I went through. You have no idea what you meant to me!”

  “Meant?” he asked, shaking his head and touching his reddened cheek as if the sting were nothing more than an afterthought. “See, that’s the difference between you and me, Julia. For me, it still isn’t over.”

  He turned and walked toward the door.

  “Did you kill her?” Julia asked to his back.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, stopping where he stood.

  “Aria,” she said. “The woman who was like a grandmother to me. I’m sure you remember her.”

  He spun around, marching back toward her quickly.

  He stopped inches from her face, looking at her like he had never seen her before.

  “Look at me, Julia. Look at me, and tell me what you think.” He blinked hard. “Did I kill her, Julia? Could I kill her?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes.

  “Of course not,” she said, looking him square in the face.

  He seemed relieved as he released a deep breath.

  Leaning in and cradling the back of her head in his hand, he kissed her on the cheek. “Goodbye, Julia Fairweather.”

  He pulled away, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him.

  “Don’t do this,” he said, looking at the door instead of her. “Just let me go.”

  She held tightly to his hand. “No.”

  “Just let me go, Julia,” he said, but he didn’t try to move.

  “Look at me,” she said. “Look at me and tell me that you want to leave, that you want me to let you go.” She pursed her lips. “If you do that, I’ll—”

  “Goddamn it,” he screamed, whipping around toward her. “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

  She stepped back, letting go of his hand. But he advanced on her.

  “Do you think this is easy for me? I already let you go, woman. And it nearly killed me. I was on a rooftop. I was going to jump off a fucking building. That’s how bad off I was when you left.” He shook his head.

  She was against the wall now, her palms pressed against the cool metal.

  Still, he didn’t stop. He was right on her, his body pressed against hers.

  “But I pulled myself together. I made a life for myself. It wasn’t a great one or even a good one, and God knows I thought about you every second of it. But at least I wasn’t on the ledge anymore.”

  He looked her up and down.

  “Now here you are, back in town like the most fuckable tornado in the world. And still, you’re not mine.”

  “I’m not anybody’s,” she said, her voice trembling along with her body.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he answered. He grabbed her hands and pinned them against the wall over her head. “In the end you’ll belong to somebody. If not me, him.”

  He moved his hand, but hers remained magically pinned to the wall. Once again, she was helpless against his desires. And once again, her body ached to fulfill his every wish.

  “So what is it, Mrs. Wheeler?” he asked, running his hands over her shirt and cupping her breasts. They perked up at his touch, her nipples hardening, standing at attention. “Who do you belong to?”

  She breathed heavy, sweat trickling down her spine.

  “Tell me,” he said. He rested his palm flat against her stomach and moved it down the front of her jeans. Ignoring the boundary of her panties, he slid his fingers into her, moistening her as he drove his index and middle fingers past her entry point.

  She threw her head back, biting her lip and feeling a rush of heat titillate her body.

  She tightened around his fingers, sending even more shockwaves of pleasure through her.

  Still, he asked the question.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  Silence. She should just answer him; it wasn’t as if she didn’t know. But not answering him had always been part of their game. What made them…well, them.

  He removed his fingers from her and yanked her jeans and panties down before literally tearing her shirt from her body.

  Buttons flew everywhere, exposing her perky breasts and aroused nipples.

  He looked at her hungrily, but there was something else in his glare; an anger that she knew he was having trouble controlling.

  “Who do you belong to?” he asked again, his voice nearing a growl.

  Throwing himself against her, he slid his tongue across her skin, flicking her nipples until they were so pert and hard that they hurt.

  Then, when she felt as though she would pop, he moved away, kissing her stomach all the way to her naval.

  He moved down her body, sliding his tongue across her lower lips. They engorged at his touch. His tongue flickered around them as she got wetter in response.

  As moisture began to soak her skin between her legs, she felt a hint of embarrassment. But it was assuaged as his tongue darted against her clit and his fingers massaged between her legs.

  He pushed her lips apart with his hand, driving deeper into her and causing her to clench and release in pleasure. His face nuzzled between her legs, his lips teasing, tongue flicking with a steady beat and pressure that kept her right on the edge.

  She felt herself nearing climax, and she ached for that sweet release. But he must have known it to, because he pulled away from her, leaving her frustrated and begging for it.

  He stood, removing his shirt, pants, and boxers.

  His thick, hard cock twitched, and in that moment, there was nothing more than she wanted than the connection and release that came with being with him.

  But there was that question, the question he was still asking.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  A different kind of heat passed through her, an anger that mixed with the passion.

  She pulled at the magic he’d placed on her hands, releasing them.

  She pushed toward him, naked, vulnerable, and as aroused as she had ever been in her life.

  “Me!” she said, slamming into him. “I belong to me.”

  The two knocked into a table. He landed on his back, pulling her with him so that she came down to straddle over him. He pulled her body down, guiding himself into her as he did, and she moaned loudly as he thrust into her.

  She ran hands through his hair, pulling hard at it and jerking his head backward.

  He clutched at her ass, pushing him toward her and working himself deeper. Without notice, he stood and slammed her again the wall, pinning her there with his body. Soon, they were sliding up it, floating in the air with the wall to brace them.

  She swayed her hips, moving against him faster, her clit rubbing against his pelvis as his cock rocked into her. They rose higher off the ground.

  Suddenly, he flipped her hard toward the middle of the room and mounted her with nothing but open air beneath her. Her hair hung in loose tendrils as Roman pumped in and out, penetrating her all over again with every stroke.

  She looked up at him, at that face that had held so many of her dreams. He was looking at her, too. The anger, the passion—it was as evident as ever as they floated so high that they pressed against the ceiling.

  And then, just like that, he pushed off the ceiling and sent them back toward the ground. All the magic melted away, and in that moment, it was just them. Unfiltered, no magic necessary, Roman thrusting into her until finally she rocketed over the edge and into an orgasm that made her entire body shiver.

  Only he could bring both the woman and the witch in her out like this.

  Roman climaxed as well, spilling his seed inside of her and, for the first time, kissing her mouth. He rolled off of her and they both stared up at the ceiling for a long time before Roman tilted his head to face her.

  “You might say otherwise, Julia Fairweather. You might even marry someone else. But you are mine.”

  His hand move
d down to her pussy, his fingers grazing against her all-too-sensitive pussy. “This is mine.” He kissed her again. “And you will always belong to me.”

  Chapter 18

  Roman spent the rest of that day with his head spinning. The idea that Julia believed in him gave him strength. Even if April might have believed he was capable of doing something like murdering that Aria woman, Julia didn’t.

  And that meant everything.

  April might have given up on him and Julia. But they hadn’t given up on each other, and that was all that mattered.

  He toured the streets of Savannah, looking at the people and places that lined River Street for what might have been the first time in years. This place had always been his home and, like one is known to do, he had begun to neglect it.

  This place, with all the beauty of the old South, had become run-of-the-mill to Roman. When Julia had left it, it was as though she had taken all the light with her.

  But now she was back and, with her, everything that made this place special, everything that made it sparkle.

  The sun began to set, hanging low over the river. Crowds were beginning to form on the streets. Savanah had always had a hell of a nightlife, and he had always been part of it more or less. Roman was never one to turn down a stiff drink and a loose woman. Even when he had been with Julia before, he could have been found guilty of allowing his eye to wander a time or two.

  Now however, things were different. He felt secure and content—as if no other person in the world mattered but her.

  And along with that clarity came another realization: He had to keep her safe.

  This feud had gone on too long. That was for sure. But it wasn’t the feud that worried him. Blood feuds between covens were a dime a dozen. They usually simmered under the surface with nothing more than hard feelings and discouraging looks to show for themselves. But this feud had erupted into war. And it was a war that Roman felt responsible for.

  If he hadn’t gone to the gypsies, if only the Crawley hadn’t given him that horrible task—if only he hadn’t accepted it—perhaps Adam would still be alive. Perhaps the entire world wouldn’t be on this downward spiral. Perhaps the promise of happiness wouldn’t seem like a cruel joke.