Trickery (4 page)

He swelled to her touch.

Ah. But then, she swelled to his.

Unbidden, uncontrolled, his magic took the reins and began to run amok. On her.

Even as she stroked him, even as she tugged on his hard, throbbing aura, he stroked her. And yes. The slender stalk at her entrance expanded and nudged inside, filling her. It thrust and thrust again. So deep. The completeness was exquisite.

She shared it with him and he shuddered. His intensity flared.

A feral moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he savaged her, both of her holes, with twin tendrils. They filled her in tandem and then began alternating their rhythm. At the same time, other threads licked and lapped at her clit and nipples, wound around her neck, dabbled at the tender insides of her knees—they were everywhere.

As she was on him. She allowed her passion, her hunger to rise and with it the frantic pace of her aura on his. Faster, faster. Harder, harder. Closer. Closer.

And then when she could bear it no more, when she was there on the edge and desperate for that one last hard thrust, she turned to him and, with her higher self, possessed him.

He crumpled. Fell to his knees as bliss, unlike anything he’d ever known, invaded his body and soul. She watched from a distance, experiencing a hint of his climax with him through the threads she wound around him. But not for long, because the ecstasy, the utter exquisite delight coursing between them took her as well. It lifted her, like a wave, and carried her away, washing her in surge after surge of mindless, boneless joy.

And the best part of it was, he was right there with her, holding her, anchored in her. And she in him.

When it was over, Damien nearly collapsed. He stared at Willow, across the room. His breath came in wild pants. His heart thudded, heaved.

Her breasts heaved as well. It was distracting but not distracting enough. Not nearly distracting enough to rid his mind of what had just happened.

The power between them had been intense. Illuminating.

She probably didn’t realize the significance of it because she was young, so new to it. But he understood. He knew.

Slowly, he stood and crossed to the bed. With the flick of a finger, he released her from her bonds. She collapsed and released a low groan as the gag dissipated. And then she sobbed. He took her in his arms and held her. Just held her, as their racing hearts returned to normal.

Normal.

Whatever the hell that was.

He wasn’t sure anymore.

Hell. He’d had many women. Witches and humans alike. Drawn to him with sorcery, seduced with a smile. It didn’t matter. Not one of them had half her presence.

The way she’d pronounced with absolute conviction that he wasn’t wicked and depraved—as so many steadfastly insisted he was—made him almost believe it could be true. Hell, it made him want it to be true. Made him want to
make
it true.

He looked down at her face, her beautiful face, sheened with sweat and glowing with satisfaction. He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. Kissed her.

She kissed him back, all soft and submissive. He loved it. Loved her.

The thought, the horror of it, trickled through him.

He’d sworn he’d never fall for a witch. Never ever mate. And he’d never wanted to.

Until now.

The trouble was, Willow wasn’t destined to be his mate. His father had been adamant on that point. He’d forbidden Damien to approach her. To tempt her. To seduce her.

Naturally, Damien had.

He’d begun plotting his trap that very day.

Now, it appeared, he was the one who was trapped.

What she did to him, how she made him want her, was incredible. And the deeper he sank, the more mired he became in the thick swamp of her allure.

Ah, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

No. The worst of it was the knowledge that she was destined for another man. Another warlock. And when that man claimed her, Damien would have no choice but to give her up.

So she wasn’t going to the Circle.

He would keep her here. With him.

No matter what it took.

He could sense her mentor, Skylar, calling to her, searching for her, out there in the world. Could feel Midea’s frantic attempts to find her. But they wouldn’t. He strengthened his defenses, strengthened his resolve.

They would not find her.

He wasn’t finished with her yet.

Chapter Six

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, entwined, exhausted. Willow had no idea how long they slept but when she awoke she was hungry. And not for food.

She realized right away she was no longer constrained by his spell. She could move around as she wished. Her first thought was of escape.

But then she looked at him.

Looked down on his beautiful face, so peaceful, so appealing, in repose. And she couldn’t sneak away. She just couldn’t.

She nestled closer and kissed his neck, his hard, delicious neck, imbued as it was with his scent. She loved the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his skin molded to her mouth as she sucked on him there. He groaned a little in his sleep and rolled over onto his back.

She took immediate advantage. Twining coils of her magic around his wrists and ankles, she bound him, stretched him before her like a feast. She loved the way he’d tormented her last night. With magic tongues lapping at her sanity. She wondered how he’d respond to similar treatment.

With a flare of anticipation, she tightened the bonds. And then she began to explore him. He was exquisite. She started at his neck, because it fascinated her, and then drifted down to his chest. His pecs were hard and his belly flat. His abs were like a washboard.

As she petted him, she played with him, experimenting with little sinews of magic, as he’d used on her. She liked the feeling. For even as she stroked him, she stroked herself, stoking his arousal on the other end of the taut tether. She added another thread. And another, testing her talent, her focus. Soon she had sinuous slivers slithering over his body, under his body, in his body…

She knew the very moment he awoke.

It was—a great coincidence—the very moment a naughty stalk nudged his asshole.

His eyes flew open. He tried to lunge up, lunge away from her impish invader, but he couldn’t move.

“Willow!” he bellowed but she simply laid a finger on his lips. They clamped shut. He tried to bellow some more but had to swallow the words.

Yes. She could silence him as effectively as he silenced her.

She sat back and clasped her hands together, watching the colorful curls of magic torment his flesh. She saw, felt, his response to the tingling trails. He shuddered and shivered and flinched as they tasted him.
She
tasted him.

It was divine.

She focused her attention on that one wayward wraith, the one toying at his ass. She captured his gaze and held it as she pressed in. His nostrils flared. “Oh. Do you like that?” she whispered. Slowly, insidiously, she increased her girth, tasting him, testing him. She eased the engorged probe out and thrust it in again. And again. He whimpered and threw back his head.

Even as she tormented his trembling asshole, she turned her attention to another whorl, a fat, harsh fist. She wrapped it around his cock and tugged once, twice. He arched into it.

It was a scrumptious sight, Damien writhing, panting, thrusting his cock into her magical grip. She fashioned one stream, like a thick tongue, and lapped at the tip of his cock. Sucked it in. With another, she nipped at his nipples, fondled his balls, played with his pucker. She loved this. She could do it all. Taste it all, give him all. All at the same time.

But her body ached, had for so long. She needed the feel of him in her, soaking her with his cum.

As much as she’d loved what he’d done last night, she’d missed that. She’d missed his cum in her.

She levered a leg over his hips and, allowing all the other tendrils to continue their teasing, she guided his cock to her entrance. His muscles seized as she prepared to mount him.

He shook his head. “Mo! Mo!” he cried.

Pity he was gagged.

Wildly, he thrust his head toward the door, tried to buck her off. Fought to break free. Reclaim his dominance.

She did not allow it.

She slipped down on his cock and he stilled as she encased him. Like a stallion, he blew a harsh breath out through his nose. Sighed.

She sighed too. The feel of his cock inside her, wrapped in magic, was astounding. She willed the coil, the one twined around him, to undulate. It surged and rolled and stroked him, stroked her at the same time.

Without even thinking, she commanded new vines. They twined and writhed across his body and then began crawling up hers. Ah! Delight as one nudged then lapped at her clit. Another wound across her breast to pluck at her nipples. Yet another made the dark and treacherous journey into her quivering ass.

She was filled. Filled completely. As was he.

With a chortle, she expanded the plug in his ass, increased her pace. He writhed beneath her, grunting in discomfort and ecstasy. Confusion, terror, sheer elation rippled through him as he neared the edge. His welter of emotion resonated though her as well.

She clenched his cock, took him in deep and circled her hips until he huffed and wheezed and snarled beneath the gag. Panic rose inside him, warring with the excitement. He fought against the coming explosion, heightening both their arousal.

With a wicked smile, she began to move faster, fucking herself, fucking him, into a frenzy. She was aware of bodies dragging against each other, tingling flesh, pleasure, sensation. She smelled his sweat, tasted his aching desire to explode.

Or maybe it was hers.

Darkness approached. Something ominous and thrilling, hunting her, haunting her. The impending climax loomed, stalked them both, skulking like a beast, like a dragon determined to burn them both to a crisp. It flew closer, this fury. Scalding wind whipped through her. The eddies of her magic shuddered, all in tandem, as it bore down upon them and took them. It was there, in him, in her. Blurring the lines of reality and sanity. Magic. Crawling into their pores, elating them.

It was at the crux of their passion, as the delirium took them, as their bodies quivered and shook and imploded with gushing pleasure, that the door to Damien’s apartment burst open and a whole other kind of fury washed in.

Willow wasn’t able to contemplate this invasion, at least not at the moment. And she was doubtful Damien could either. They were both twirling, reeling in the grip of exquisite sensation. Besides, she didn’t want to be bothered. Didn’t want to be distracted. Not now. Not yet. Not until she was done. Not until she had milked every drop of his luscious cum, pulled it deep into her body and given it a home in her womb.

She closed her eyes. And finished.

And so it was Lord Azreal, the Great Warlock, the most powerful man on the planet, was forced to stand there and watch as she, this novice witch, finished fucking his son.

It was impressive, he had to admit. Somehow she’d managed to rein in a boy who at times seemed totally uncontrollable. Oh, she’d done more than rein him in. She’d bound him, hand and foot, completely subjugated him with her magic. And fucked him.

Thing was, Azreal doubted she even realized what she’d accomplished.

He stood there and watched in silence as the couple writhing on the bed came. And came and came and came.

Well, hell.

What he wouldn’t give to come like that again.

By the time they’d finally finished, by the time she collapsed upon him and released him from his bonds, panting and gasping and twitching, Azreal felt a trifle…
de trop
.

Still, he stood there, fists on his hips, attempting to look ominous and commanding and infuriated. A dark cape draped his powerful form and his long blond hair fluttered out behind him although there was no breeze. A great and powerful aura cloaked him, sure to strike fear in the hearts of all who surveyed him.

Azreal glared at the bed, repositioned his fists on his hips and called up more wind.

Really. Sometimes he didn’t know why he bothered. No one was paying any attention.

Leave it to his son to utterly ignore his eminence.

He should be furious about that. About all of it. Damien had tried to
hide
her from him. He’d defied his father and seduced a woman forbidden to him and then hid her. He’d built a moat surrounding this bower and reflected the All Seeing Eye, making it impossible for the Brethren to find this little nest. If their passion hadn’t been so damn powerful, like a shining beacon screeching, howling through the darkness, no one would have found them.

Azreal bit back a grin.

Really. This was no time for fatherly pride.

These two had broken the rules. Hell, they’d shattered them. Violated the Novitiate.

There would be hell to pay.

Skylar and Midea weren’t far behind the Great Warlock. The Great Mother Witch scudded into Damien’s apartment on a frenetic trail of magic belying her age. They took in the scene with twin looks of horror on their faces.

Although Skylar’s horror was probably also due to the fact that Azreal was here. She saw him—standing there trying to look ominous—and blanched. Not because he looked ominous, simply because he was there. She shuddered and looked away.

Unfortunately, she averted it straight to the bed. Where her protégé lounged naked in the arms of her worst nightmare.

“Oh Gaia, Willow,” she warbled. “What have you done?” She stared at the two bodies, still entangled, at the receding spirals of sorcery that made no secret of their purpose.
Holy hell.
The room reeked of fucking. She turned to Midea, tears teasing her lashes. “We’re too late.”

Midea’s lips tightened. She pinned the Great Warlock with a rapier gaze. “I told you to keep the boy in check.”

Azreal shrugged, holding both palms up in a mockery of supplication. “I forbade him to pursue her.”

“You
forbade
him.” Midea practically spat the word. “You might as well have challenged him to do so.” She stormed across the room and glared at the offenders. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She bellowed at them both but her finger pointed at Damien. “She was special.”

Damien rolled over, trying to cover some of Willow’s nakedness with his body. “She
is
special.”

Midea snorted. “You know what I mean. She was supposed to come to the Circle untainted. Pure. Untouched by a warlock. She was supposed to
conceive
.”

Willow untangled herself from Damien and stood, naked and proud. And why not? Her body was flawless. Skylar tried, very hard, not to roll her eyes…because Damien tracked her every move. Possessively. Possessed.

Willow bent down and picked up her blouse and slipped it on. She gave a little shrug. “I can still conceive in the Circle.”

Damien leapt out of bed and loomed over Willow, glaring at her. Skylar couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his…magic. Oh my. No wonder the girl was tempted.

“The hell you will!” he roared.

“What?”

“The hell you’ll
conceive
in the Circle.”

“For Gaia’s sake, Damien. You know the rules.” The two faced off. The magic dancing around them spit and hissed.

It was really quite a show.

But then after a moment, Damien’s conviction crumbled, his irate magic fizzled, his face fell. “You’d really do that? You’d fuck another warlock?”

Willow opened her mouth. Then closed it. She looked away, ostensibly searching for her jeans. She found Damien’s instead and tossed them to him. He put them on, hopping on one foot and then the other, his eyes fixed on her. As his rather impressive tool slipped into denim seclusion, Skylar sighed.

Ah well. It’d been fun while it lasted.

“Really, Willow? After what we shared? You’d fuck another warlock?”

Hands on her hips, Willow faced him, taking in all his fury and tossing it right back at him. Skylar watched as her child stood up to one of the most powerful warlocks alive—and spanked him. Pride swelled in her breast.

“If I had to do it… If the Congregation needed it… Yes.”

“Shit, Willow.” Damien DeWinter, the heartless heartthrob, playboy of the Brethren, raked his fingers through his hair, looking suspiciously like a whipped pup.

Skylar fixated on the sight. After all the heartache that boy had put them through, after all the novices he’d seduced, after all the retraining and scrubbings and forlorn tears their coven had had to endure, it was rather gratifying to see him at a loss for words.

Where that ping of sympathy for him came from, she did not want to explore.

“It’s not like she has a choice, Damien,” she said. “This is her destiny. She’s our hope. Our survival for the future.”

Midea nodded. “You have to understand, boy. Some things are greater than a simple passion.”

“It’s not a simple passion.” Judging from the look on his face, he probably believed it.

Which made him dangerous.

Really dangerous.

Midea cleared her grizzled throat. “We must go now. Take her back to the coven.” She shot a glare at the boy. “Where she’ll be safe.”