Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) (16 page)

Oblivious to where they were, they fell into a perfectly timed rhythm with one another, each feeding off the other’s movements like a well-choreographed tango. His lips claimed hers, and she accepted his claiming, longed for it as badly as he.

Beth felt the wall smack her in the ass, as he had somehow maneuvered them against it. Sex up against a wall would be a first and one she couldn’t wait to try. She snickered wickedly at the decadent thought as the terror from earlier dissipated. Moss, paused at her little snicker, his own naughty thoughts reflected from his eyes, his previous intense demeanor gone. They were lost in the here and now with no haunted past taunting them.

His arms bracketed her body, and he leaned forward, keeping her immobile. His fingers went to her jaw and urged her head up until she opened her eyes.

She looked questioningly at him, mewling at the desperate need to connect with him again as she tossed a leg around his and gyrated her hips. The vision had shaken her badly, and she wanted to feel every inch of him. Prove he was here, alive and safe with her. Yet he refused to budge. He froze, pinning her effectively between the wall and himself, and simply stared into her eyes. Sought something within hers.

Then the corner of his mouth curved upwards, and the green in his eyes darkened, becoming predatory. His body never moved an inch from hers, yet he dropped his hands to her dress and began inching the fabric up. One hand curled around the cotton fabric, holding it at her waist, while the other fisted the string to her thong and, with a small yank, ripped it clear off.

Instinct had her climbing his thighs to wrap her legs around his.

“You. Are. Mine,” he growled before he pulled back enough to enter her swiftly and in one hard stroke.

She let go of all the negativity. Let go of every inhibition she’d ever had. Clasped onto Moss and all the strength and security he offered. More than anything, the love he now revealed to her.

Nothing else in the world mattered at the moment except knowing what they shared went far more than just a one-night stand. And she was fairly certain he now believed her about his wife and the children’s survival that night. Maybe within that truth he could release his past enough to embrace his future.

Their
future?

Another deep thrust jolted her to serenity. His tongue engaged with hers, taunting it to come play. Her lips slipped back and forth across his as she nipped him playfully here and there, before sucking in his bottom lip and shivering when he moaned.

He shuddered around her as he fought to remain in control. She bit her own lip to keep from crying out. How quickly Moss could bring her to the edge still mystified her. Hell, when he shot her those hungry looks of his, she grew wet on the spot.

“Let go,” he whispered when her inner walls began fluttering, the sure sign of her impending release.

His husky words proved too much. She bit the palm of her hand to prevent the scream that so wanted its freedom, remembering at the last moment they weren’t alone. Damien and her aunt were somewhere in the cabin, or just outside.

Her legs clamped tightly about him, and her nails suddenly bit into his shoulders as she thrashed in the throes of ecstasy. Only then did she feel him let go and the beast rise.

While she’d fought for quiet, he had no issues with such. Grunts and growls erupted as he unleashed a mating fury.

He whispered how the beast recognized its mate. Through his panting, he managed something about needing to mark her … and then he bit into her shoulder. Hard enough her shoulder would reflect his mark, but shy of breaking the skin.

Granted, it shocked her a bit, but the possessive nature of the bite caused another orgasm to slam into her. She knew she was being claimed and loved it.

After all the years of feeling second rate, second best, she’d been chosen.

She — was — first.

Once they calmed their raging hormones, they did a quick clean-up and made their way toward the living room. She blushed at the very thought of having to face Grace and Damien. Hopefully they’d been outside and wouldn’t be aware of what they’d been up to.

As they rounded the corner from the darkened hall into the quaint living quarters, Moss gave her hand an added squeeze. Just that little something she needed to calm her nerves and remind her of their secret tryst.

To her surprise, the living room was still deserted. How long had Damien and her aunt been out on the porch? A tingling zinged through her, warning her all was not right. Danger lurked near.

“Moss, something’s off,” she whispered.

“What do you mean, off?” Moss froze at her words of warning, throwing a protective arm in front of her.

“Something feels wrong, like when you have a déjà vu. You can remember something, but not necessarily what.” She’d never quite been able to describe the buzz she got before her internal alarms went off.

Moss’s posture went rigid, and Beth sensed he’d come to the same conclusion.

“She’s been here.” He had no need to explain who he meant.

“Grace!” Screaming, Beth bolted past Moss’s protection, desperation for her aunt’s well-being fueling her every move. She only managed a few steps before Moss efficiently tossed her over his shoulder for safekeeping.

“Let me go,” she hissed, kicking and clawing every square inch of him she could reach.

“You will remain here. I will go check out back. Don’t forget, Damien was with her. I saw how he looked at her. He won’t allow any harm to come to her.”

Beth didn’t waste time arguing; deep down she knew he was right. She’d sensed the kinship between her aunt and Damien; actually she’d sensed a lot more than that, but what if Octavia or her minions had snuck up on them? What if Damien wasn’t who he claimed to be? Octavia had whispered something to Damien back at the cave. Damien claimed not to have really wanted to kidnap Beth but had done so on Octavia’s commands. Who was to say he wouldn’t obey her orders again?

More than anything, though, she knew Moss was better prepared to scope out what was happening than she. If someone lurked about or if it a trap had been set, as she felt he suspected, she was too emotionally charged not to go off half-cocked.

She waited in the shadows for Moss to return. Freaked out a bit when she lost the sounds of his footsteps and, considering how tiny the cabin was, knew he’d gone into stalking mode. Her stomach twisted at not hearing the comforting sounds of him close by.

Finally, he called out that it was safe for her to join him. The cabin and yard were deserted.

So, where had they gone? Had Octavia and her nasty-ass swamp minions kidnapped them? Or had they seen the trouble coming and managed to elude them?

“I see no signs of a struggle, yet Octavia wouldn’t have come and left with nothing,” Moss stated, genuinely puzzled.

Beth knew he was right. Something was amiss. Octavia was far too vengeful to have come all this way only to leave empty-handed. She and Moss had just been in the other room, and Octavia would have sensed their presence. So why just leave? It didn’t make a lick of sense.

Just then, the back door flew open, and Grace and Damien staggered in. Beth flew into her aunt’s arms. Relief washed through her, calming her frayed nerves in an instant.

“What happened?” Beth asked still not having released Grace from her bear hug.

“I’m fine …
we’re
fine. No reason to stress, honey. Damien sensed Octavia’s presence just before she barreled out of the woods with those nasty little groupies of hers. We hid out in the swamps, and I sorta cast a wee little spell,” Grace stated proudly. Her eyebrow cocked up as she shot a triumphant look at Damien, who grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

“A little spell? Uh oh. This should be good.”

“Yes, wee — little. I couldn’t touch her, but her lackeys were susceptible enough. She stormed off madder than a wet hen, no pun intended, her lackeys loudly in tow.” Both she and Damien burst into laughter.

“And?” Beth pressed.

“They waddled closely behind, quacking the entire time,” Damien finished for her.

“Quacking? As in
quack, quack
like a duck?” Beth snorted.

“Exactly like ducks. Very pissed off ducks with extremely loud quacks to boot,” Grace added between gasps for breaths from laughing.

After they’d all managed to contain themselves, having had a much-needed break from all the stresses and emotions of the day, Beth remembered the spell she’d run across.

“Speaking of spells, I found one I think might be of use against Octavia. One that’s sure to slam some of her own medicine down her throat.” Good, she’d gained their undivided attention.

“Exactly which spell did you find?” Grace asked, sounding both curious and proud.

“Well it’s similar to a redundancy spell but taken from chapter three, specializing in mirroring and erasing spells.”

“Perfect. Utterly perfect.” Grace beamed proudly. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that old family recipe.”

At the term
recipe
, both men bristled. Beth was sure neither would actually classify what had been done to them as a recipe, but after shooting each other speculative looks she understood they’d decided to stay mum about Grace’s faux pas. So long as there was a way to stop Octavia’s evil wrath, neither seemed to care who called it what.

The four worked through the night gathering the required ingredients for the potent spell, each growing quiet as the night drew on. Moss and Damien knew that if all went well, Octavia would no longer be in control of them.

But what of their own particular plights? What of changing back? Did they even still want to change back? All these years — no, centuries — of being at one with the swamps, could they give it up? More to the point, did they, deep down, even want to try? So much was riding on this spell, riding on Octavia’s downfall.

Beth contemplated what Octavia’s being out of the picture might mean for her. Yes, Moss cared for her. But would he still care when a virtual smorgasbord of gorgeous women was thrust at him? He’d been away from society for eons, and now, soon, he would be back among civilization. She could just imagine how women would react to him. All that predatory maleness wrapped up in a ripped package just ripe for the pickings.

Would he still think her beautiful compared to others of her gender? Or would she turn out to have simply been a choice of convenience, because there’d been no other to choose from? Her mind took in the image of her slightly bigger than average hips, breasts that weren’t as high as they’d once been, and a stomach not as taut as years earlier. What would he think when he saw the beautiful, plastic people of today’s world, with their silicone breasts in pert perfection and tummies tucked tighter than a military cot? Far more toned and defined than she, with their sickening,
perfectly sculpted abs?

She cast a wayward glance toward Grace, noting her quiet state. What was rolling through Grace’s mind? Was she worried as well about what would happen after Octavia was vanquished?

Secretly, Beth stared at Moss. He was silent, his posture stiff as he worked the task Grace had given him of finding assorted herbs out at the swamp’s edge. He seemed methodical in his task, while lost in thought. As nervous as she was, the sight of his muscles bunching as he stretched and pulled native herbs from their roots had her nether regions quivering in excitement.

• • •

Moss gathered the requested items and acknowledged the butterflies swarming in his stomach. Freedom would soon be his, or so he hoped. There was no assurance the spell would revoke his or Damien’s current states of being, but it was the closest hope either had ever had.

Would Beth still be attracted to him when he was a simple mortal again? Maybe he’d over thought the whole idea of setting her free because he wasn’t human. Maybe the very danger that surrounded him had drawn her to him.

So damn much was at stake, for all of them.

He stood partially hidden by a cypress and watched Beth as she quietly exited the cabin. She went to stand at the porch banister as she scanned the area. Part of him longed to call her over to him. To tell her of his fears and pray she could put them to rest. Then there was the part of him that was too fearful to ask. The part that would take every last second they might have together and relish them.

He continued hiding behind the sanctity the cypress offered, watching in awe of her beauty. The way the moon made her blonde hair appear silvery as the gentle swamp winds played with it. The strands floating about so it appeared she had a halo. In truth, he didn’t doubt her an angel sent from heaven above to rescue his dark soul.

She was as graceful as he imagined a celestial being would be, and as sweet as one too. Her heart was pure and wholesome as no other he’d met. Even more than his late wife’s, whom he’d adored.

Moss watched her leave the porch and edge her way through the darkness down to the water’s edge, a dangerous place to be in the evenings. Too many swamp predators came out to feed at this time.

Just before he reached her side, he saw her turn toward him, an unspoken fear passing between them. Moss sought to somehow reassure her — of what, he wasn’t certain. He didn’t like the thought of her fearing anything. What caused the moisture that glinted in her eyes? He stalked toward her, arms opening, and was comforted by the fact she turned, heading directly for him. Unfortunately, before she made it, before he could embrace her and assure himself that at least for now she was still his, Damien called out for both to return. Grace needed them.

He tried to smile, wanted to assure her no matter what the outcome with Octavia, Beth would forever hold his heart. While he wouldn’t hold her to any promises previously made to him, she would always be his, whether she was with him, or free in her world.

• • •

Beth saw his tentative smile, as if he were unsure what to say. Was this the beginning or the end for them? Her heart felt as though it were about to break in two at not knowing for sure.

Wasn’t that the saying? That not knowing something was sometimes the worse kind of hell? She could believe it. She’d been so close to asking. Close to throwing all the cards on the table and hoping for the best. Thankfully, Damien had saved her from possibly making an ass of herself. It wouldn’t be the first time, and given her luck, it likely wouldn’t have been the last.