9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (33 page)

That
was Saylym. Merciful, gods, what was wrong?

And
why was she at the shop so early? It wasn’t time to open yet.

A
second screech rent the air, louder and more piercing than the first.

Talon
took off down the stairs two at a time, tripped halfway down, and nearly
toppled the rest of the way, before he stopped himself from falling.

“Damn
narrow stairs,” he muttered. “A man could break his neck.”

Saylym whirled to face Talon as he skidded to an abrupt
halt behind her. Her mouth gaped open in preparation of rendering another
ear-splitting shriek. Those strange colored eyes of hers were round and huge as
saucers. Her entire body shook, as though she had palsy. The few endearing
freckles scattered across her nose stood out against the pallor of her skin.
She looked as pale as a ghost at All Hallows’ Eve
.

Talon
stilled. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He looked cautiously around the shop but
didn’t see a thing to cause her to scream like a banshee.

Saylym’s
shoulders shook. “I’m going to give birth to a book,” she cried.

“What?”
The woman was totally, utterly mad. And she was driving him mad. “What are
you talking about?”

She
sniffed, sounding so pitiful, it broke his heart. “If I mate with you, I’ll be
the mother of a
book
. It told me so.”

Talon grabbed the book from her and read aloud,
“Ye Olde Book of the Future.”
He exhaled
slowly, allowing the relief to slide over him. She wasn’t injured nor had
anything attacked her. “It’s a predicting book, Saylym, sort of like scrying
the future. You aren’t actually going to give birth to it.”

She
blinked.

He
snarled. “Under all that blonde fluff on your head is a brain. Use it! A
scrying
book, for the gods’ sake!”

She
blinked again. He saw a hint of color returning to her cheeks.

“Blonde
fluff?” Temper blazed in the look she flashed him. “Is that your way of calling
me a dumb blonde?”

“I
never said you were dumb.”

“You
implied it.”

He ran a hand through his sleep-tangled hair, trying to
control the urge to shake her for giving him such a fright. “A scrying book is
like…you know, like your crystal ball?”

She
shook her head wildly. “I don’t have a crystal ball. Well, I do, but I don’t
believe it’s possible to look into the future.” She eyed the book warily. “It
said plainly it’s my son.”

“For
the love of—” Talon broke off his sentence. “Son?” A slow grin spread across
his face. “Son? Did it say I’m the father?”

She snorted and traced her gaze over him.

“Just
asking.”

A
peculiar expression crossed Saylym’s face. She stilled and sucked in a sharp
breath. The silver swirls in her eyes shimmered like skeins of silk. “Holy shit,”
she bellowed, her gaze shooting downward. “Oh!
Ohh!”
Her mouth worked,
but no further sound came out. She jerked her head back up and stared at a
point just over his left shoulder. Saylym panted as if she was giving birth to
said book at this very moment.

Talon spun around, expecting to see someone or some
thing
sneaking up on him. There was nothing. When he turned back, she’d lowered her
gaze and was pointing a trembling finger at him.

“What?”
he bellowed. She was driving him to distraction.

“Y-y-you’re
naked.”

Talon released an impatient breath, folded his arms and
rocked on the balls of his bare feet. “Yes,
La-Scheme
, I am. You saw me
naked yesterday.”

She waved her arms in denial. “Well, I…yes and-and no. I
didn’t actually
look
at it.”

“Have you never seen a naked man before?”

Her lips parted.

He held up his hand, halting her. “Don’t answer that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ve seen a naked man
before. I’ve looked at
Playgirl
. But
it’s different, seeing the real thing dangling. The men didn’t seem quite so
naked…or…up close and personal.”

“No?”
His grin quickly changed into a frown. “What the hell is
Playgirl?
Just how naked, is naked? Did any of these men touch you?
And what are you doing looking at naked men?”

“What?”

His
body grew taut with an unspoken challenge. How dare she look at another man
naked. “You said not as naked as me. How naked were the men you saw before me? How
close did they get to you with their…exposed…
danglers?”

Saylym
smiled, a mysterious curve slanting her mouth. “Wu-ell,” she drew out the word.
“There’s naked…and then there’s
naked
. You’re the ‘then there’s
naked
sort.’”

Her
gaze seemed to say,
And so…just what are you going to do about it, big boy?

Talon knew what he’d
like
to do about it, but the
look of admiration was fading from her face, to be replaced by apprehension.

“What?” he asked.

“Wu-ell, Mr.
Waken,
now that I’ve had a good look
at it, if you think for one second you’re poking that big thing in me again,
think again, buster. I’m not giving birth to a book, that’s all there is to it.
And for heaven’s sake, put on some clothes. You’re creating a draft in here.”

Talon tugged at his sleep-tousled hair. He couldn’t take
much more of this nerve-wracking business of trying to soothe a frightened
witch. Especially, when said fright was now based on the size of his cock.
“I’ve already had it inside you, baby. You took it just fine.”

“No,” she denied, shaking her head wildly. “You had a
tiny
bit of it inside me, you said so
yourself. You were barely in. That is different. Just do me a favor and cover
it before someone walks in. Anyway, it…it’s alive.”

Talon
snapped his fingers. “Presto! Now, it’s decently covered.”

Saylym’s
sharp gasp surprised him.

He looked up in time to see her eyes roll back in her
head. Her legs wobbled and she crashed toward him, limp as a rag doll. He
sprang forward, wrapping his arms around her as she toppled like a felled tree.
“Well, hell.”

Lifting her in his arms, he glanced down at her and
sighed. He hadn’t considered his nakedness would shock her enough to send her
keeling over in a dead faint. He grinned as he suddenly appreciated her words.
Big
thing?
All right!

And
she had insinuated that it was the cause of said draft?

His
grin widened.

He
glanced at her pale face as he moved up the stairs to his bedroom. Placing
Saylym gently on his bed, he brushed a silver curl back from her face. Standing
up, he lifted a single brow and
 
stared
down at her.

“Oh,
yeah,
La-Scheme
, I have every intention of
poking
that big thing
in you, and I promise you,
kieran,
I won’t stop next time.”

He sighed, touching a fingertip to the scattering of
freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Giving
birth to a book?

Where
in the world did she come up with her convictions?

The
woman was a hundred percent daft.

Chapter
Twenty

Mary Easty was released from
prison. Yet, due to the outcries and protests of her accusers, she was arrested
a second time.

 
~ Salem Witch Trials

 
May 18, 1692

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

Black
Drayke could barely bring himself to look at MeLora. The desire, the driving
hunger to steal her spirit, ate at his soul. She crowded him, to the point he
felt claustrophobic and smothered in slimy oil.

MeLora
was now the proverbial thorn in his side. She wasn’t of royal blood and that
made her a liability. He wanted her and her babe out of his life.

What’s
more, he didn’t trust her.

She hid things from him and that annoyed him more than
anything.

A
witch who kept secrets was dangerous.

Right
now, he had more pleasurable things on his mind. His body burned with
excitement.

Every
day he changed.

His
body felt heavier. More…sexual. To put it bluntly, he needed to fuck.

His
brain seemed covered with a thick sludge and with each chant he uttered, with
each use of Black Magick, his body altered.

MeLora
had done something to him to aid the process. He
knew
it. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know how, or when, but
she’d done
something
. He felt the sludge of her hex crawling like a
snake beneath his skin. The change didn’t bother him. In fact, he rather
enjoyed the transformations taking place, but it enraged him that she’d managed
to accomplish it without his knowledge or consent.

Like
a tuning fork, his body vibrated as it slowly transformed. Perhaps MeLora
hadn’t done anything to him, after all, because the change seemed to strengthen
every time he drank one of the bitter concoctions Wizard Marcelo created just
for him.

This
very morning, after he had ingested some of the potion, two tiny blisters had
appeared on either side of his scalp, the beginnings of horns. Embracing the
complete transformation taking place in his body, he slid his tongue along his
budding incisors. They also had altered, forming into razor-sharp fangs.

After
returning from the palace this morning, he’d stood in front of the bathroom
mirror, surveying the incredible changes. Naked, he’d been in awe of the dark
brown and ocher-colored scales that spread across his bare shoulders and lower
back. The scales looked wet and shiny, brand new in their infancy, but
definitely the shadow of wings formed beneath his flesh.

His
sac felt larger, fuller, heavier, swaying between thick, muscular thighs. His
cock stood proudly, an iron pike, and broader at the tip. He supposed he was
actually changing into the monster he’d always been accused of being.

Black
Drayke threw back his head and laughed. His change into a demonic creature both
surprised and pleased him. Skimming his tongue over the developing incisors, he
grinned, satisfied with his new toys. By tonight, the incisors would be
developed enough to rip flesh.

He would taste more than Helayne’s soul tonight. Tonight,
he’d feed off her. Literally. Tonight, the demon would have his first taste of
flesh. The hours he’d just spent tormenting Helayne were mere child’s play
compared with what he’d do to her tonight.

The sweet taste of her spirit still lingered on his
tongue. The pleasure of repeatedly bringing it to the brink of utter
destruction glowed like a warm light in his mind, shining through the black
muck.

He’d spent hours tasting her soul, and yet, he felt
cheated that he wasn’t able to complete the last step of the stealing ritual.
Now his need to mate scalded a path through his groin.

Maybe it was the changes taking place in his body that
kept him in a constant state of arousal now. Maybe it was because Beltane grew
stronger with every rising dawn.

But simply having sex with MeLora wasn’t going to be
enough anymore.

She couldn’t satisfy this insatiable hunger. He had to
capture Saylym and soon. No other would satisfy him.

Taking a soul, now that made it all worthwhile, it was as
addictive and thrilling as any opiate and enhanced every climax. He needed that
powerful release.

How many times had he drawn Helayne’s soul to the tip of
his tongue and tasted it last night? He couldn’t remember. There were periods
of time he couldn’t remember
what
he’d done to Helayne. It all seemed
like a dream, as if he dwelled in a world of fog and mist and blackness.

The
last time he’d tasted her soul, he’d applied enough pressure to force her
spirit over half-way into his body. It created such an ultimate high, his body
shook with the force of her glorious energy and purity. He climaxed instantly.

Helayne
had already turned cold, her lips blue, and her body still and lifeless beneath
his. Bruised shadows lay darkly beneath her staring, doll-like eyes. For a
moment, as he looked down into her lifeless face, he thought he’d gone too far.

Then
she shuddered, her full breasts heaving against his chest. She gasped and
gulped in frantic breaths of pure air. To reward her for not dying, he smiled
down into her frightened gaze, and laughed, savoring the power he held over
her, reveling at the torment he saw on her beautiful face. “I’ll leave you now,
My Queen,” he whispered. “Dawn approaches. But have no fear, I’ll return
tonight.”

Black Drayke sighed and smoothed his mustache with thumb
and index finger. The greasy shadows of Black Magick tainted his mind, taunted
him–commanded–
demanded
the pleasure of a spirit to settle their ominous
presence back to their cold, stark realms.

His constant desire to steal a witch’s spirit had become
overwhelming. He felt like tearing his hair out by the roots. The relentless
voices in his mind drove him to the brink of utter madness. The constant need
for sex kept him on edge.

Tonight,
yes tonight, he must return to Helayne. The anticipation thrilled him. His
blood crackled with raw impatience. And when he finished drawing on her soul,
finished relishing the taste of her glowing spirit, he would return here for
MeLora and finish this thing between them.

What he really needed was a young, beautiful, virgin
witch. That would be the ultimate power, the ultimate high and sacrifice for
this new demon forming in his body. Saylym. She was virgin. He knew it. He’d
smelled her virginity when he’d been in her shop.

And
the craving to possess her gnawed away at his mind. She could satisfy this
ravaging need ripping him apart.