Trickery (3 page)

It was wonderful. Full and hard and throbbing with unfulfilled desire. She loved the feel of it, slipping in. She longed to arch into it but couldn’t. Couldn’t move at all, not even to shiver around him.

“Come on,” he snarled, pulling out and then pushing back in, seeking her response, any response. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” she wailed. “I can’t move. Release me.”

He looked down at her and comprehension flooded his eyes. He whispered an incantation, even as he plowed into her. And a great weight lifted, freeing her body. Ah! She shuddered, with all the pent-up delirium of a long-awaited release. All the muscles of her body followed with a shower of shivers, of reaction, of response to his intimate caress.

“Yes.” He shifted his position, coming in tighter, harder. “Yes. You’re so tight. So good.”

“Harder.” She nipped at his nipple, let her teeth graze the skin of his neck, his earlobe. “More. More.”

He complied.

There was no master. No slave. Just two extremely ravenous souls, each desperate to consume the other.

It was a battle, but one with no winner or loser. They struggled against each other and with each other and delirium rose. It rose and consumed them both.

Her orgasm was a tight one. It began in a little ball at the core of her being and spread out like a multicolored wave. She knew when it reached him, swamped him. His body shuddered and contracted and then expanded in a fiery rain.

Magic exploded around them, showered them, engulfed them in a cloud of pleasure and peace. It trailed through her, through him and back again.

It was the oddest thing.

The first time they’d come to orgasm together, she’d felt a bit of his soul join with hers. This time…this time, a bit of hers melded with his.

It was a lovely feeling. Frightening and new, yes, but entrancing all the same.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel completely alone.

Chapter Five

No. She didn’t feel alone. Willow glared at her captor. But why did she have to feel this way, this incredible bonding, with a jerk like
him
?

He’d restrained her again. Once he’d recovered from his mind-blowing orgasm, mere seconds later, in fact, he’d wrapped her up in those silken bonds once more.

The fucker.

She was helpless, bound, naked.

“Don’t pout, Willow.” He sat, on the chair across the room—using the distance like a shield—with this legs pulled up beneath him, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants. “It doesn’t become you.”

“Damn it, Austin. Let me go.”

His smile was slow, sleepy. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

His answer stunned her. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Not…” Hell. He’d already ruined her for any other warlock—any worth having at any rate—rubbed his scent all over her from head to toe. What more could he want?

The prospects inexplicably sent excitement scudding through her.

“Besides, you’re much stronger than I expected. Much stronger than a mere novice should be.”

She sniffed. “I’m a good student.”

“Apparently. But beyond that…I find I want you again.”

Again? They’d just fucked. Twice. How could he possibly want her again?

He chuckled as though he could read her mind. Her belly lurched. Could he? Read her mind? A horrifying thought.

“Obviously your potion was stronger than you intended. I’m still in your thrall.” His smile became a smirk. “I have no intention of letting you go until I’m done with you. And I’m not done with you yet.” Passion burned in his eyes, his soul. Feral passion…for her.

Holy hell. Maybe she had overdone it a little.

She yanked at her bonds but only to exercise her frustration. She knew she couldn’t break free. “And when will that be? When will you be done with me? My Circle’s tomorrow.”

His expression tightened. His nostrils flared. A muscle jerked in his cheek.

“Austin? Did you hear me? My Circle’s tomorrow.”

He glared at her. “You’re not attending that Circle.”

Her heart seized. “But, I have to. I’ve been called.” He knew the rules, the immutable rules. Surely he did. Even though she was ruined—utterly ruined—she would still be expected to make an appearance before the Congregation. She didn’t really have a choice.

Neither did he.

But his expression was unyielding. Hard.

“How on earth do you expect to keep me here?”

He stood and paced the room, dragging a palm over his face. “I’ll hide you.”

She let go a delirious laugh, a bubble of panic. “Are you insane? Austin, you cannot hide me from
them
. Not if they’re looking.”

He loomed over her and snarled, “I don’t want you attending the Circle.”

“Why not?” Every witch did it. Every witch had to cede to the command.

Austin didn’t answer. He stormed to the window and glared out at the street. Night had fallen. The sky was dark.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you standing there in the center, that’s why.”

Willow didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to respond. She finally managed, “You don’t want me taking my vows?” Why? Why would he so adamantly oppose that?

He snorted. “It’s not the vows. It’s what follows.”

“The…consummation?”

“Yes!” Oh my. He was upset. He fairly spat the word.

Was he…jealous?

Ridiculous.

They’d only just met, for Gaia’s sake.

She opened her aura and focused on him. A trail of his emotion, a questing skein of his
chi
tangled with hers. She felt him. Tasted him.

He spun around. “Stop that!” He raked his fingers through his hair until it stood up on end.

But it was too late. She’d found him. It was only a hint of his essence but it was enough. What she saw shocked her to the core.

He wasn’t at all what he seemed, self-assured and cocky and heartless. There was something else there, in him, something that spoke to her. The hint of a boy who’d never belonged. Never measured up. Never felt like he deserved to achieve his goals. Unsure. Unwanted. Unloved.

Oh. How she wanted to love him.

There was jealousy snaking around inside his soul as well. A deep cauldron of roiling possessiveness and desire. And all of it for her.

He sat on the bed and buried his face in his palms. “Stop that,” he repeated, but it was far too late. She’d found him. Touched him.
Knew him.

“Release me, Austin.” She attempted a command.

He set his teeth. “Won’t work, Willow. Nice try though. I’m not going to let you go. And by the way, my name’s not Austin.”

“It’s not?”

“No. It’s Damien. Damien DeWinter.” His gaze skated to hers, took in her shock.

“DeWinter? As in Az—”

“Shh.” He laid his fingers on her lips. They tingled at his touch. “Don’t say it. Yes. The Great Warlock is my father.”

Willow shuddered as the import of his words sank in. Holy hell. What had she wandered into?

“But don’t fret, little one. I’m hardly his favorite. Hardly the golden boy. I’m the black sheep of the family, you see.”

Still… His father was the most powerful warlock in the Witching World.

“Aust—Damien. When he finds out what you’ve done…”

Damien threw back his head and laughed. “He’ll what? Lecture me? Punish me?” His face became a mask. “He’s already done his worst.”

“W-what?”

He snorted. “Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“They don’t tell us much.”

“No. I don’t suppose they do.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve been exiled.”

Her heart lurched. For him. Poor thing. She couldn’t imagine being exiled, being forced to live alone in the mortal world.

Well, she could actually. That had been her life before Midea found her. It was terrible. Lonely and cold. Knowing that your life was only a fraction of what it could be.

“What did you do?”

He laughed, a harsh sound. “What didn’t I do? I was willful and undisciplined and rampant.” Yes. That she could believe. “I’ve been banished until I can ‘discover a way to control myself’.” He snorted, pretending disdain, but she knew better. She could feel the pain, the loneliness, skirling in his soul. She reached out and stroked him, aura to aura, essence to essence.

He wrenched away at her soft touch. “Don’t you dare feel pity for me.”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding.”

“Understanding? How could you possibly comprehend?”

She shook her head. How could she put this into words? This feeling she had? This
knowing
? “You’re not what they say you are.”

“A beast? A fiend? A savage who takes whatever he wants? Regardless of the consequences? Wicked? Depraved?” He leaned closer, his expression fierce. He wanted to frighten her. He almost frightened her. But only almost. “I am all those things. You’re too young, too innocent to see it.”

“I see clearly.” She could. She could
see
him. And she sensed she could see him in a way no one else ever had. “You’re not wicked or depraved.”

“You’re wrong.” The conviction hummed through his tone, around him, along the little skeins of his
chi
, and it confused her because it was at odds with the man she felt when she touched him. It was almost as though he was trying, and desperately so, to be all those things the civilized world deplored. “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it to you.”

He stood in a rush, as though her proximity was a burden he could no longer bear, and strode to the other side of the room. He stood there like a predator in heat studying her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with intent. Wicked intent.

Her heart skipped a beat and then set up a manic pounding that made her light-headed.
What was he going to do?

It began slowly, subtly, like a rising mist. A thick, sinuous pressure surrounded her and grew, encased her in its sheath.  Then an invisible hand forced her back, until she lay flat. Of their own accord, her arms moved over her head to cross at her wrists. Her legs spread wide apart.

She shuddered…she tried to shudder. She’d never been this open, this vulnerable, this
possessed
.

This was a new constraint, a stronger enchantment, far more powerful, far more insidious than his previous binding spell. This one was fueled by his resentment, his discontent. Willow felt it in her bones. Tasted the flavor of his energy as it sizzled and spit.

But the worst of it was the pressure on her throat, the force covering her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t speak at all. Dread rose in her breast.

He stared at her—powerless and frightened, splayed wide before him. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” His voice was like a slithering snake, licking at her, curling around her in sinuous coils.

She tried to shake her head but it wouldn’t move. She was terrified, wracked with fear, but something deep inside her warmed, wriggled. Something deep inside her wanted this. Needed this.

“I’m going to tease you. Torment you. I’m going to bring you to the edge of release again and again until you are desperate for it.” He reached out a finger, standing there, across the room, and stroked her.

Oh Gaia. The rasping tip of his magic scraped her nipple. Even though he wasn’t touching her, it scored her like a flame. He thrust out his arm. She watched in mute horror, mute delight, as streams of sortilege curled from his hand and trailed closer and closer to her bound body. She moaned and squirmed, but to no effect. She was helpless, her legs spread wide, exposed, her nipples thrusting high as the sinuous strands curled closer and closer.

The first one reached her and caressed the skin of her thigh, a tender, gentle caress. The sensation was excruciating. Exquisite and mind-bending and not nearly enough. Then another coil found her, curled around a nipple, tugged. Sensation sliced her. She cried into the gag.

Whatever these were, whatever spell he’d cast, it was more intense than any human touch. Her flesh danced with delight.

And then she stilled, moaned, as a tendril caressed her belly and slipped down, down, to open her. It didn’t touch her there, didn’t lap at her aching clit. It merely held her open, letting the ambient air pucker her damp skin until she wanted to scream.

But ah. He wasn’t finished yet.

Her gaze flew to his as yet another crawling wisp slipped under her thighs and between her cheeks, dabbing at her asshole. His nostrils flared as he tasted her response, her panic, her frustration.

“Ah. You like that, don’t you Willow?” He didn’t wait for a response. Indeed, none was coming.

He pressed in with that tingling trail, into the tight ring of her ass. She arched up as far as the spell allowed in a vain attempt to elude this invasion. But it was pointless. He just kept following her until she reached the end of her tether. He nudged in. And in.

A glorious rain of pleasure flooded her as the magical plug in her ass swelled. It swelled and withdrew, rocking her with shards of agony and delight. Then it eased back in. At the same time, another tenuous trickle licked at her opening. Willow, bound spread-eagled before his magic, desperately tried to open wider.

Tears prickled at her lashes, sweat beaded her brow as those taunting wisps crawled all over her body, tormenting her, fucking her, driving her wild. But the one that tormented her the most was the bulb hovering at her entrance.

In! In!
She longed to scream. But she had been silenced. She turned her attention, her intention, her power, inward and bellowed those words at him on another plane.

He stilled. The stalking shadows stilled. Everything stilled as he gaped at her. Then something lit in his expression, a new flame, a new passion, and the magic resumed, increased its intensity, maddened its pace.

But still, the teasing tongue, lapping at her, didn’t enter. She nearly howled with frustration. She was close. So damn close. If only he would enter her. If only he would slip inside and fill her. He fucked her everywhere but the one place she yearned to be fucked.

His fist trembled, every taught muscle hummed as he controlled multiple threads like some cunning puppet master. Willow knew he was aroused, was just as impassioned as she, just as desperate as she. She could smell it. Taste it on the air.

Deliberately, she softened her aura. Relaxed. And as he approached, took up the space she’d ceded, she slipped beneath his shield, the shield he’d formed around himself. She slipped in and found his passion. Fondled it with whorls of her own.

He shuddered when he realized what she was doing, but didn’t protest. Rather, he stood there, stock still, and allowed it. He threw his head back and closed his eyes and let her pleasure his essence.