“It’s okay. I can read your cards for you if you want.”
“No. I just need to find Stephen. He’s on the second floor?”
“You can’t go up there. The second floor is not for humans. Besides, he’s at the lake.”
Myron gave her directions and sent her on her way.
Cane tapping in front of her, she made slow progress, but eventually she felt the cane hit water. She fumbled around until she found a rock to sit on, and she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Romy?” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“Good morning.” She held out a hand. It seemed to hang in the air interminably before he took it, pressed it to his wet beard. She relished the feel of the water running between her fingers and down the backs of her hands. This was real. She was in love and he was real.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’re okay?” A hint of laughter in his voice.
“Yes, I’m okay, and yes, I’m yours. I’ll marry you. I’ll mate with you.”
Suddenly he was pulling her off her backside and into the water with him, his lips raining kisses over her face. She laughed again, returning the kisses with equal enthusiasm as he dragged her down to the ground with him.
“Mine,” he whispered, pulling back. She knew he was looking at her, looking in her eyes. She nodded, touching his beard again, feeling the edges of his smile under her fingertips.
His lips came down on hers, and she savored the taste of him, the feel of him, his body pulsing against hers there in the shallow water at the edge of the lake. When she reached for the hem of her T-shirt, he took her hands and pinned them over her head.
“Oh, hell.” His voice was rough, his hands warm on her skin. She felt his lips close around one nipple, suckling her right through the cotton, and she arched into his touch, wanting him so madly she could climb inside him and not be close enough.
“Please.”
“Yes.” He tore the wet fabric as he pulled the shirt from her body, letting go of her hands to reach for the snap of her jeans. Just as she was ready to shove them down her legs, he stopped. “No, wait.”
His weight disappeared from her body and she felt cold and alone. He reached down and pulled her to her feet.
“Not like this. I don’t want to do the joining like this, groping each other on the hard ground because we can’t control ourselves.”
“But I need you.” She didn’t whine it exactly, but there wasn’t much dignity in her voice that moment.
“By my life, sweetheart, I need you too. But tonight is the full moon. I want to bind myself to you as you bind yourself to me, under the moon and the stars and make everything perfect. Can’t I give that to you?”
She thought about it, running her hand across the hair of his chest, her lip slipping between her teeth. Yes, he could give that to her. After tonight, she’d have her whole life to jump him.
“I’m going back to the Haus now,” she muttered as she fumbled for her cane, lust still singing through her body. “You know, I’m probably going to have to masturbate. And you won’t be invited to watch.”
His hoot of laughter brought a smile to her face as she realized how crude and petulant those words must have sounded.
“Are you sure you want to marry me?”
“I want to marry you and your dirty mouth.” He leaned in and his scent surrounded her as he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t ever doubt it. Here.” He pressed his clean, dry shirt into her hands. “Sorry, I ripped your shirt.”
“I’m not.” She grinned, stroking his beard one more time. “I look forward to you ripping more of them.”
* * * *
Stephen stood in the middle of the garden, fidgeting while he waited for his mate. What if she changed her mind? When she approached him, however, he could see the sureness in the set of her features, in the broad smile on her face. She walked right up to him, as though she could see him; she was that attuned to his presence. When she reached up and touched the side of his face, he knew the moment had arrived.
“What do I do?”
“Your soul, my soul, they’ll bond together. You have to let your soul come to mine. It might feel like you can’t breathe, but I’m right here. Trust in us.”
She nodded, and he reached for her hand.
“First, will you dance with me, Romy?” He took her into his arms, savoring her smile. She laid her head on his chest and followed his lead.
* * * *
He was amazing. He didn’t lead with the practiced expertise of a ballroom dancer, nor did he have the seasoned grace of a trained ballet dancer. But he had the smooth, lithe power of a bear and the gentlest spirit she’d ever known. As he led her through a sensual dance, she felt herself relaxing into his arms, enjoying the contrasts. They didn’t have music; he led to the beat of their hearts, the sounds of the garden around them. When he slowed, then stilled, she knew it was time. She tilted her head up for his kiss.
It was heady, emotional, and overwhelming. He nipped lightly at her lips, beckoning her to follow him into a new dance, a new pattern. She drew and held a shaky breath, letting go and letting her soul seek his.
It seemed he was all around her, protecting her and warming her even as her breath slipped away and her hands fisted in his shirt. She felt a shudder work through her in that moment between breaths, and his hands tightened on her waist, anchoring her.
Then, she felt the most amazing moment of all, when her soul met his and they joined together. His lips pressed against hers in another fierce embrace, and she felt him smiling against her.
“I love you, Romy,” he murmured, gathering her close.
“Oh, Stephen, I love you. I didn’t realize it could be…you’re amazing.” She hugged him tightly. And he was. She had never felt so close, not to a lover, nor a dance partner. Their souls, joined together, filled all the dark places inside her with a rush of sweetness so new it was breathtaking.
He tugged her down to the ground with him, and she felt soft, fragrant grass beneath them. The scent of jasmine swirled around them, a scent she’d forever associate with the Wiccan Haus, and with him.
“I love you,” she told him again, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. A low rumble, and suddenly it was gone and she was burying her fingers in the hair on his chest, nipping at one of his nipples and feeling it harden under her teeth. He rolled her onto her back, tearing the rest of her clothing in his impatience.
She reached; he answered. They moved together, his cock stretching her wide as she opened to him. When he was buried inside, heat flamed up in her as they rocked together. She sensed the wildness in him, the animal so close to the surface, and she answered it with a wildness of her own. He took her hard; he took her sweet, and as her orgasm crashed into her like a wave against the shore, he roared her name and held her through the storm of it.
They lay together under the moon and the stars, and he stroked her face with his hand. She felt a sting in her nose as he gathered her close. She pressed her lips to his chest, running her hands through the hair.
“Are you…? Romy, are you crying?” he asked, a note of fear in his voice.
“It’s a good cry,” she reassured him.
“I thought you said your tear ducts were damaged?”
“They are, but my feelings aren’t.”
“Then why is my chest all wet?” He tipped her chin up, and his finger brushed her cheek bone. He brought the fingertip to her lips, and she tasted salt. She was crying tears. Real tears. She sat up abruptly.
“I can cry!”
“Apparently.” She heard the smile in his voice.
“If my tear ducts are healing, maybe…” But no, the world was still as dark as it was a moment before.
“It doesn’t matter to me, Romy. I love you just the way you are. But I wouldn’t underestimate the magic of this place.”
“I didn’t come here to get my vision back, Stephen. I came to get m
y life back. I just didn’t know what that would mean.”
“Do you regret this?” He pressed her hand to his chest, over his beating heart.
“Never.” She tugged him down with her to ground again, rising above him to claim her mate, and if tears spilled between them as they made love, she knew they were joyful tears, every one.
Epilogue
Edouard and Bruno were waiting on the front porch, but they bounded out into the yard, both of them talking at once when Stephen brought his mate home. Stephen and Romy had spent a month with her family so he could get to know her parents, her sisters. He’d spent a lot of that time developing a voice-activated application for her to use to choreograph the dances she “saw” in her head. When combined with a tablet and a stylus, she could animate the little dancing figures he programmed. Sure, the male lead looked a little ursine, but she didn’t need to know that. Her former company had even offered to produce her first ballet, so they’d be returning to the States soon.
Before they left, they’d had a small wedding ceremony in her parents’ backyard, and now it was time for her to meet his family. He looked at his brothers: the elegant Edouard and the bashful Bruno. Before Romy, they’d been his entire world, his family. He wanted them to welcome her with open arms. He took a deep breath and pulled her forward.
“Guys, this is Romy Lewis Bonsaint. She’s my mate.” Pride stirred in him at the blush that spilled across her cheeks, knowing he had put it there.
“Hi.” She held out her hand, and Stephen grinned as Edouard took it first. He bent over it and kissed the back of it before straightening.
“Enchanté, ma soeur.”
“You must be Edouard. It’s nice to meet you too.” She turned slightly, extending the hand again, and Bruno shook it gently.
“Welcome to the family.” His baby brother pulled her into a hug, kissing each cheek.
“So, guys, can I keep her?” Stephen asked. They grinned at him, and she laughed as they walked back toward the house and she squeezed his hand in hers.
“What have you guys been up to? Any word from the Syndicate?”
“No, things have been pretty quiet since your incident at the resort,” Edouard said. “I’ve gotten a lot of work done and Bruno finished his book.”
“So, if it’s all the same to you, I think we’re just going to get out of your hair for a week or two,” Bruno said casually. “You know, give you guys time to be alone.”
“Where are you going?” Romy asked.
“The Wiccan Haus.” Edouard smiled over his shoulder at Stephen. “We hear it’s pretty awesome.”
Acknowledgments
I owe a huge thanks to Dominique Eastwick for the encouragement and inspiration she provided, and to Liz Silver for pushing me as a writer. This book would certainly never have happened without the two of you.
About the Author
Vanessa North was born in New England, but moved to the South as a teenager. She reads voraciously, writes obsessively, and takes thousands of photos of the people she loves.
She lives in Northwest Georgia with her husband, twin boy-children, and a pack of dogs. Find her online at:
Website: http://www.vanessanorth.com
Blog: http://vanessanorthwrites.wordpress.com
Twitter: @VanessaNWrites
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorvanessanorth
Interested in writing for the Wiccan Haus?
If you are interested in contributing to the shared world of Wiccan Haus, please send an email to:
[email protected]
You can also visit the Wiccan Haus blog at:
http://thewiccanhaus.blogspot.com/
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