The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (83 page)

“This isn’t like what happened at the building site – this is consensual.”

The way it’s supposed to be,
encouraged her succubus.
I need this, I need this, I need this…
And it was strange how the demon’s voice was starting to sound an awful lot like her own.

“I’ll kill them,” she whispered.

Katarra brushed Elena’s arm with her own, and then laced her fingers through hers. “We’re going to die anyway. Imminently. It would be nice to choose how we go – riding out on the joy that was always denied us – but we understand if it’s something you can’t do.”

Elena squeezed her hand. Looking at her, she tried to gauge the Brujii’s true feelings. All she saw was complete honesty. It didn’t surprise her – Katarra had always been honest, even if that honesty was blunt. “And you? If they’re all that’s left, what will happen to you?”

“Their death will sustain me for a short while – long enough to see a dragon, I hope.”

Elena looked back at the four males awaiting her decision.

Flippin’ heck!

They were of average height for men and slender in physique, but toned nonetheless. Anything they lacked in build, they made up for in…

Going red – thank goodness it was dark – Elena forced her eyes away from their … er … faculties, and back up to their faces.

“I know you’d rather feed from Karl, and if he were here I wouldn’t even—”

“Hush.” She squeezed the Brujii’s hand harder, and in a move neither of them really saw coming, Elena leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips.

A pair of shocked, citrine-coloured eyes, stared back at her when she pulled away.

“Your gift is wonderful. That you would even give of your people and yourself in this way… Thank you.”

Katarra’s eyes filled with tears that overflowed easily, and it seemed to stun the queen even more.

“You okay?”

She touched the trickle that ran down her right cheek. “I’ve never cried before from feeling so … so…” She gulped and shook her head, unable to complete the sentence.

“See?” said Elena, softly. “It’s never too late for a first time, even when time has run out.”

“So, you’re accepting my gift?”

“If you and they are giving it freely – if you’re all sure – then yes. With gratitude.”

Disentangling her hand from Katarra’s, she trailed her fingers up her arm, both her and the succubus delighting in the way it made her flesh bumpy in response; over her shoulder … up the side of her neck towards her jawline…

Katarra let out a low sigh that ended on a small moan as Elena’s thumb caressed her bottom lip.

“Thank you,” whispered Elena, again.

She turned to the males and held out her arms to them. “You give yourselves of your own free will?”

“We do,” they affirmed in unison.

The demon in her had never felt so near the surface in such a controlled way before – this
was
very different from how it had been at the building site. She didn’t feel separate from it – more that her demon was a conscious shadow that gave depth to all of who she was. “Come then,” she smiled.

There was no hesitation from any of them.

They moved towards her as one, and she received them, whole.

Chapter Nineteen

Roomy leather couches were great for sitting on, but not all that wonderful for sleeping on.

Amy groggily rose to sitting, peeling herself off the material, wondering when the hell she had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Her eyes landed on the half-eaten apple on the floor. She remembered Lucifer’s conversation, she remembered biting it, and everything after that was a little bit hazy, although Paul’s shirt in her hand told a bit of the story: at some point, she must have gone into her bedroom to get it. She didn’t remember it though, and that really didn’t sit well with her given all that her memory had been through already.

“Oh, Amy,” she mumbled to herself. “What the fuck have you done?”

“What have you done?” came the hushed voice from across the room.

She gasped in surprise, fear scurrying up her throat, and squinted in the pitch black to see who had spoken. What was it, anyway – five in the morning? “Who’s there?”

A figure came into view until she recognised its shape. “Paul,” she sighed in relief. “I was worried. Where have you…” Her unfinished question hung in the air as she realised that something felt odd – the atmosphere was … kinda sharp, was the best way she could think to describe it.

She willed on the lights – this time the two standing lamps, hoping the softer glow of the bulbs would dampen some of the sting in the air – and caught her breath when she saw his face.

Paul looked bone-tired and drained of all energy, although still twenty-eight. His eyes had a glaze to them, and that’s when she understood the slight ‘tang’ in the air she couldn’t place before: he’d been drinking.

At this time in the morning? Where?

“I felt something change,” he stated, flatly. “I can tell you exactly when: twelve minutes past three. What have you done?”

His cuffs were rolled up to this elbows and his shirt looked all but slept in, wrinkles decorating it all the way up to…
Oh, fuck.
 

There was lipstick on his collar.

Everything changed in an instant.

It was as if the past few weeks and every single thing that had happened to her, finally caught up with her all in one go, in a gigantic, screaming ball of rage.

The first thing that went flying at him was a leather cushion. “You BASTARD!”

“Ouch! Hey!”

The second was two drinks coasters that sat on the side table, one after the other… “After
everything
we’ve been through, after
everything
you’ve put me through, after
everything, everything,
EVERYTHING!”

…a ceramic mug that he ducked just in time so it smashed into the wall behind him…

“Amy!”

“While I’m carrying your CHILD.”

…a property magazine…

“While I was worried SICK.”

…a large vase complete with water and carnations…

And that seemed to do it. With a furious look he didn’t often sport, Paul strode towards her in five large steps. He took her wrists so she couldn’t throw anything else. “Stop!”

She kicked out with her feet instead, not that that got her very far with her great big dome of a belly in the way.

“Amy!”

“
Who was she
?” she seethed.

“Who was who?”

“You want to get in your last jollies before you die? Was she good?
Was she?
”

“I’m not dying!”

“You … you’re …
what
?” She hadn’t heard that right, and was he trying to change the subject?

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you – something changed!” The spark in his eye faded a little as that haggard look returned, and for the first time she actually saw him.

When you saw Pueblo in all his muscle-bound glory you couldn’t help but think ‘strength’, but that didn’t make Paul any less strong, and what she understood right now was that Paul had been her
unassuming
strength for the last few weeks – quietly, without trespass.

Now, he looked as if he was hanging on by his fingernails … and the metaphoric cliff was giving way.

“I was ready to go. Christ, it was even the only thing keeping me sane the past month; the only thing giving me focus. I was going to die and that was that.” He let go of her wrists and grabbed her upper arms instead, all emotion pouring off him. “Everything I had to do I
could
because that was the end goal, and now it’s all changed and I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do.” He gripped her harder. “
What did you do?
”

Her mind was a blur.

“You mean you’re not going to … you’re not going to…”

“I’m not going to die. I can feel renewed life flowing through me where there was none before; a quick revealing spell confirmed it. I was ready to go –
I was ready
.”

“You were…” she stuttered, and then everything fell into place.

He’d been ready to die.

“Oh, no…”

Oh, holy, shitting…

‘…one man’s free will, is another man’s prison.’
 

She had wanted him to live –
that
had been her deepest desire – she could see it so clearly now.

Through one bite of an apple she’d just given him life … and taken his choice away.

“Amy,” he whimpered, tears lining his eyes, “what did you do?”

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, her gaze landing on the fruit on the floor.

He followed it, his face falling even further as realisation dawned on him. “
Why
?” he wrenched out.

“Because…”
Because I was confused, because I wanted to be a good mum, because I wanted to know my real desires so I wouldn’t make mistakes, because I wanted to move forward…
All excuses. In the end, it was the unmasked truth that came out, because she could no longer deny what she had secretly wished for when she’d bitten that apple – what she’d been wishing for all this time: Paul, alive. “Because I still love you … so much.”

If a thousand expressions could sit in one face all at the same time, it was happening now. There was everything from love to pain to anger to fear…

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, words turning into sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”

He let go of her left arm and rested his hand lightly on her mouth instead. “Ssshhhh, don’t say that, don’t say that…”

“But—”

“Amy… Elizabeth…” He brushed his nose against hers; let his hand slide away, his lips directly over her open mouth.

Oh, God … sweet man … my husband. Kiss me…
“You have lipstick on your collar,” she blurted out instead, wincing at the statement – both at its meaning and that she’d had to say it at all – but she couldn’t pretend the lipstick wasn’t there. That particular shade of pink was branded into her mind now.

“Ahhh … that’s why you went berserk. I met up with Katherine at her house. She’s going to wait there for Elena’s instructions. There’s a lot we needed to talk through – a lot of time to make up for.”

Oh, you stupid girl…

“There were a few tears; she cried into my shirt.”

…stupid, stupid…
“It appears I’m a hormonal idiot. I’m so sorr—”

“I told you to shush.” He kissed her.

She moaned against the feel of him before she could stop herself – cool, familiar, comforting, assuring.

“Lizzie,” he breathed into her, and she parted her lips for him, not bothering to correct him over her name because there was nothing to correct.

His tongue darted into her mouth and entwined with hers. “I love you, too. I never stopped.” And then he deepened their kiss, and honest to God, she was drowning, but in the most pleasant way possible.

She gently bumped the wall behind her, realising he’d been steering her backwards. He cupped her firmly behind her neck, fingers in her hair as he devoured her lips with his. “Fifty-five years … fifty-five fucking years…”

It took her a moment to understand what he was referring to: the last time he’d kissed her.

“Jesus Christ, you taste so…” He resumed his attack on her mouth. It’s not as if he really needed to finish that sentence – she got the idea.

With his other hand, he guided her away from the wall and to the left, then back some more, always careful with the baby.

“Paul … where—”

“Bedroom.”

Right. Good idea.

She felt as if she was melting under hot water, every last inch of her flowing and alive and tingling with sensation. How the hell had she avoided this for the past month? This was home, family, their marriage…

For a moment, she panicked again, closing off to everything she felt, her heart suddenly too fragile –
he's going to die
– except he wasn’t, was he? Those walls had stayed firmly in place because she’d refused to let herself say goodbye, but Pueblo had been right: the wall she’d put up against goodbye, had also been her wall against ‘I love you’ … and her wall against closure.

But now there needn’t be a goodbye – he wasn’t dying anymore.
No dying!
 

And that was enough to blast away all her defences.

She only noticed they were in her bedroom when Paul shut the door behind him, his lips still attached to her; this time to the side of her jaw by her ear. He moved south, down her neck and she groaned at how wonderful it felt to have him doing this again, after so long.

Her fingers dexterously made light work of the buttons on this shirt.

He manhandled it off himself, throwing it to the floor.

Her oversized sweater was next, but once it was off her, she inanely froze, arms automatically coming up around her.

“Hey,” he voiced, concerned, “What is it? Too fast?”

Too fast? God no, she was aching for him in a way that might even be intensified by her hormones, although she was definitely feeling it all in her heart. She shook her head. “No, I…” and then she laughed a small laugh that sounded a little ridiculous. “It’s silly really. It’s just that I’m…” She blushed as she met his gaze, “I’m huge. So different to how you remember me.”

Those brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Huge and bloody gorgeous.”

Her lips were under his again, but then he pulled back and searched her eyes; stroked her cheek. “You have no idea how many nights I would lie in bed imagining moments like these after you disappeared; all the many days I wished I could relive, thinking of all the things I’d say and do differently… I’ve seen this moment – you carrying our child,” his voice broke with the force of his emotion, “so many times in my mind. Let me see you now … please. Let me undress you.”

The plea was weighted with fifty-five years of longing, and she simultaneously cried with loss and soared with joy as she nodded her consent.

For some reason, he paused.

“What? What is it?”

He let out a long breath, assessing her with his eyes and licking his lips nervously.

“The longer you’re quiet, the more I’m going to pester you.”