9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (42 page)

He
lived by Alley Cat standards, not by the
Futhar’s
rules of courtship.
And by the gods, he’d show her exactly what that meant when pretty, sexy
Persians toyed with horny toms.

“Mess
with the bull, ya get the horn.” He snickered.

Topaz paused to stretch and yawn and then started singing
again. “I feel good. So good. Cause I’m gonna nail yo-ou. Yeah, baby.”

* * * *

Celine stuck her head around the corner of the door and
gave a long sigh of relief. At last, he’d given up, gone away. The big tom
spent the entire day tormenting her, trying to wear her down so he could have
his way with her. But she’d showed him. For now, she was safe. He’d be wearing
an ice pack on his favorite toy for hours to come.

The beast was horrible! Simply horrible! Brash and a-an
Alley Cat! The worst possible breed of feline there was. Why, Alleys mated with
every female feline they came across. Well,
not
her. She refused to lower her standards. The only male she’d accept was one of
her own breed, with the exception of a Siamese. She’d always thought the
Siamese
Futhars
were incredibly beautiful and they knew how to treat a
lady.

“I
hate him,” she hissed, her thoughts returning to the low-life Alley Cat. “He’s
an animal!” she panted breathlessly.

A
well hung animal.

She
frowned
.
No. She wasn’t going to think about what he had between his
legs.

The dumb tom thought he could treat her as if she was a
low-life Alley Cat, one he could toy with, then just walk away from. Mr. Cool
Cat. She hoped that twitching rod between his legs shriveled up and fell off!

Celine closed the closet door and crept deeper inside the
cool, dark interior. A pile of old clothes lay in the farthest corner, and she
dropped down on top of them, curling into a tight, wretched little ball. She
hated him. Hated him!

If
she never saw him again, it would be too damned soon.

If he dared to come near her, ever again, she would—she
would—well—she’d race in the opposite direction as fast as she could run.

All
she wanted to do was sleep and forget about the tom that had so crudely
threatened ‘
to nail your pretty Persian
ass.’

* * * *

 
“Hey, Prince.” Topaz arched both furry brows.
“Could you shut up that howling bed? It’s been screeching for so long, I’m
going to start coughing up hair balls and vomiting if it keeps moaning and
groaning.”

Talon
stepped out of the bathroom, naked and wet from the shower. He glanced at Topaz
as the big cat sauntered toward Saylym’s bedroom. “Done already?” he asked. “It
certainly sounded like at least one of you was having fun.”

Water sluiced down Talon’s body. Topaz blinked. “The
lovely Persian is playing the old
Futhar
game of ‘Hard to get.’ As for
having fun, she’s the only one who did. So to answer your question, no I’m not
quite finished. I’m working my way up to it, Prince. So, can you fix the bed’s
eye?”

“I
tried. I can’t undo Saylym’s magic. Why did she zap the bed?”

“Don’t know, boss. SMP, MPS, one of those monthly female
things, I guess. Damn glad she wasn’t pissed at me. Why, I just might be
nothing but a pile of black and orange fur on the floor if she zapped me.”

“Yeah,
I know the feeling.” Talon glared at the moaning bed. “Shut up, bed, before I
thread your lips together.”

“Yes,
Highness,” the bed cried. “Can you give me back my sight? I do so miss seeing
everything.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Talon chewed on his lip. “But you
have to stop yelling so I can concentrate.”

“Yes,
Highness.”

He’d
tried all day to counteract Saylym’s wild magic. So far, everything he’d
attempted failed. He stood up and pointed at the bed. Sparks flew from his
fingertips toward the eye. They snapped and danced around the injured eye
before vanishing with a crackling hiss.

A horrified scream rent the air as the bed blinked, then
blinked again. “By the gods, Highness, put on some clothes, before
I
puke. Why, that’s the scariest thing dangling there I ever did see!”

Talon
grinned, snapped his fingers and was instantly dry. A pair of black leather
pants swathed his hips. “I’m trying to get ready for a very important night and
you two keep interrupting me. Are you both happy now?”

Topaz
hopped up on the bed, stepped over Saylym’s prone figure and studied the big
eyeball. “Interesting. Your eye isn’t red any more. It’s baby blue. Not quite
so intimidating.” Topaz slanted his gaze toward Talon. “Thought you couldn’t
undo her magic, boss?”

“I
didn’t undo it. I simply gave Sandman a different eye. The other one is gone
for good.”

Talon
stroked an unsteady finger across one of Saylym’s silky eyebrows. “You must
have done something to frighten her.”

For
a moment, Topaz thought Talon referred to Celine. And he knew without doubt
he’d frightened the beautiful Persian. A satisfied smirk twisted his lips. He
grinned and hopped off the bed.

And
oh, didn’t he have plans to frighten her some more, but Talon would hardly
concern himself with his and Celine’s courtship.
Futhars
were a breed
unto themselves. They were half-witch and half whatever animal, bird, or
species they descended from, and full blood witches rarely interfered in their
business.

No one ruled them. No one owned them. In truth, it was
just the opposite. The
Futhar
claimed ownership of the witch. Their
commitment to a witch was voluntary and for life. They usually remained in
their familiar form as well, but they had the ability to shape shift into
anything they desired.

There was only one law they followed. If a
Futhar
impregnated a female, he was automatically bonded to her. She became his life
mate and the only thing that could change it was if one of them died. In this,
their race was different from the witches.

Talon
slid his glance up and down Topaz. “Are you singing? What are you so cheerful
about?”

Topaz
held up two tiny pink satin bows, inhaled deeply, and sighed with pleasure. “I
think I just might keep the lovely Celine.”

Talon
lifted a brow. “Really?”

Topaz’ eyes shimmered like gold jewels as he proudly
lifted his head. “Yeah, boss. I’m afraid I’ve been neutered. My tomcattin’ days
are over.”

Talon laughed. “Happens to the best of us, old friend.”

“Yes, it does. I’m a goner, boss.”

“Go find Sage and Stry. Tell them to join me in the woods
by the sacred pine tree in an hour.”

“The
bonding tree?” Topaz’ gold eyes rounded. “You’re having a bonding ceremony?”

“Yes.
I’m keeping the lovely Saylym, too. I’ve contacted the high priest and
priestess. The high priestess has already cast a circle. As soon as the sleep
spell I placed on Saylym wears off, we’ll be there.”

“You’re
giving up your freedom? For one witch?”

Talon
nodded. “I am. Go. And Topaz? I expect to see you there.”

Topaz
bowed his head. “I will be honored to attend your handfasting, Prince.”

Saylm gave a low moan. Talon whirled at
the sound of her soft groan, all his attention on her now.

Saylym’s
eyes fluttered open and for a moment, she stared at him, then Talon saw memory
slam into her.

“You
put a spell on me,” she accused.

Talon
held her against his chest, running his fingers through her tangled curls.
“Hey, are you crying? After such a long nap, you should feel better.”

Saylym
shook her head. “No. Why would I cry? I’m not crying. I’m mad as hell! At me.
At you!”

“I
can figure out why you’re angry at me, but why are you mad at yourself?”

“You
don’t understand. I’m…a…witch.”

Talon
laughed softly when she hiccupped. “I know,
kieran.”

“I
mean, I’m
really
a witch. You know, as in Samantha, Tabitha, witch!”

“Who?”

“As
in
Witch Hazel
, witch.”

“As
in
Salem,
witch, baby.” Talon rubbed her back. Tenderly, he closed his
mouth over hers, muttering, “As in
my
witch.” Reluctantly, he eased the
pressure off her mouth. At least she was talking and making sense, again. Sort
of. Although he was clueless who Samantha, Tabitha, or Hazel was. Maybe they
were relatives.

Most
of the morning, she’d been incoherent. At least she’d been incoherent once she
came out of her near-catatonic state, and nothing he said seemed to calm her
down.

Then she’d sat straight up in bed and stared at the wall
as though she was in a trance, mumbling, “I’m a witch,” over and over again
until he finally cast the sleeping spell over her. He’d remained at her bedside
until it was time to get ready for the ceremony.

Talon brushed back a stray curl from her face. “We have to
talk, Saylym,” he said seriously. “If you don’t listen to me, if you refuse
again to bond with me, then you will cease to exist.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rebecca
Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth Howe, Sarah Wildes, and Sarah Good were
executed. Fearing that they couldn’t get a fair trial in Salem Town, John
Proctor and other prisoners wrote a letter from prison to the Reverends
Increase Mather, James Allen, Joshua Moody, Samuel Willard, and John Bayley. In
the letter, they asked the ministers to support their request for a change of
venue for the trials.

~Elizabeth Howe

“If it was the last moment I
was to live, God knows I am innocent…”

~Susannah Martin

“I have no hand in
witchcraft.”

~Salem Witch Trials

 
July 19-23, 1692

Sanctuary

Saylym
knew she had run out of time, she could tell by the seriousness of Talon’s tone
of voice. The choice was no longer hers, if it had ever been. He meant
business. He meant her to face reality.

Reality
was the fact she was a witch.

Reality was the fact she’d blinded the poor bed and could
have done the same to Talon when she’d wiggled her fingers at him. She would
never forgive herself if she harmed him. She hadn’t meant to do such a mean
thing to the bed, but she was guilty of injuring it all the same. She could
still hear the pitiful thing sobbing in her mind.

Reality was the fact that Talon frightened her with his
statement she was going to cease to exist—a strange way of wording ‘you’re
going to die’—when all she wanted to do was lie back, close her eyes, and shut
out the world she seemed to have dropped into, this crazy world of witches,
warlocks, and magic.

She wanted no part of this world, but had she a choice in
the matter?

And reality was Talon, sitting here beside her on the bed,
insisting they wed. Or as he put it, bond. He also said something about jumping
over a broom. He might as well have said jump over the moon for all she
understood of his meaning.

She
had to do something about him.

But
what?

Was
she ready to commit to him?

She
liked him a lot, but did she love him? Trust him?

She
didn’t know.

Did
he love her?

She
didn’t think so.

The
problem was she’d always believed that when she trusted a man enough to give
herself to him, she would love that man with all of her heart and soul. To that
end, she’d already given herself to him, even if the act hadn’t been fully
consummated. At that moment, when she’d surrendered, she’d been certain of his
love. But after?

She
wasn’t ready to search for that particular answer yet.

Talon
moved closer beside her on the bed. She closed her eyes. “Go away,” she said
wearily, “before I zap your eyeball.”

He
couldn’t keep from laughing. “Come on, darling. Open your eyes. We have a
bonding ceremony to attend.”

“No.
I don’t want to get bonded, enslaved, claimed, or mated.”

“Yes, you do. You want every one of those things and you
want them with me. I know you want me.”

Her
eyes flew open. “Don’t be a conceited jerk. Go away! You make me nervous.”

She
closed her eyes again and panted.

Talon
frowned, watching her chest rise and fall. By the time she had a baby, she’d
have this breathing thing down right.

She
opened her eyes. “You’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He brushed a stray
curl back from her face. “Listen to me, Saylym. I know you didn’t want to face
up to the fact you’re a witch. There are things you don’t understand yet or
accept.” He exhaled slowly. “There are things about you I don’t understand. But
the most important, the most urgent thing at the moment is that we must bond.
We have to have a public ceremony with witnesses.”

“Why?”

Talon stood up, pacing. “Because.” He turned to face her.
“Because, if you refuse to bond with me, they’ll send someone to obliterate
you.”

Saylym sat up and flung back the covers. “Don’t be ridiculous.
Why would anyone want to kill me? And who are
they
?”

“Because you’re a witch.”

“I thought that was a good thing. That you wanted me to be
a witch.”

“I do want you to be a witch. Hell, what am I saying? You
are
a witch, but the thing is, you aren’t a very good witch. You’re a bungler of
magic and that makes you intolerable to my race.”

“Intolerable? I thought being an
Impure
made me
intolerable?”

“That too.”

“I see.”