9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (56 page)

He blew into her face, a single long puff. Darkness
descended, swirling like a black fog around her. Saylym shuddered and collapsed
into his waiting arms. Wings embraced her, wrapping her in the arms of evil.

Black Drayke carried her out of the shop. He bounded
upward, black wings flapping, lifting both himself and Saylym high into the
late evening sky. He held her in his arms, his grip deliberately loose. He gave
serious thought to dropping her. But no, he had other plans for the beauty.

Later, after he’d had his fill, he’d take her and fly high
in the sky, then drop her on top of Annu Mountain. What fun it’d be to hear her
screams.

And there was nothing and no one standing in his way.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Governor
Phips dissolved the Court of Oyer and Terminer.

~Salem Witch Trials

October 29, 1692

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of wakens

MeLora
jolted awake from her afternoon nap. “Nooo,” she cried, jerking up on the side
of the bed. “It cannot be! That sneaky bitch!”

But
it was.

There
had been an irreversible shift of power; a transference of magic. The subtle
change in the air had an aura, a shift in the universe. It filtered through the
air, eager to depart the news of her loss. A secret ceremony had taken place.
She felt it deep inside her heartless soul.

Her chance to gain the power for herself had been stolen
by that weakling witch! The first set of stones, the green gems, had been
transferred to Saylym.

“Nooo!”
She had to get them from her. Claim them.

Saylym
now had the means to become powerful, possibly even stronger and more
formidable than
she
could ever hope to become.

MeLora cursed loudly and viciously. She’d been searching
for centuries for the magical jewels, and the bitch had stolen them right out
from under her nose. By right of blood, they belonged to her.
She
was
Queen Shy-Ryn’s daughter and next in line to inherit.

But a silent, nagging whisper raced through her mind,
reminding her that the jewels could be transferred to whomever the queen chose,
as long as it was a witch of royal blood. MeLora gasped. So
this
Saylym
Winslow
was
related to her after all!

The only way to get the stones from her now would be to
kill her, and that wasn’t a guarantee. It was likely that Queen Shy-Ryn had
placed a protective spell over the magical gems.

Now
that Saylym possessed them, it would be nearly impossible to obtain them. The
bungling witch couldn’t possibly possess the skills or have gained the
knowledge to use the stones' magic. That must mean someone was helping her.
Could it be Queen Shy-Ryn?

Fire.
She would destroy Saylym with fire, the same way she’d gotten rid of her own
mother. That would be the only permanent method of removal.

Darak
rose beside her, rubbing her bare shoulder. “What’s wrong, my love? The babe?
Does our son give you discomfort?”

MeLora felt like screaming. Every time she lay down for
rest, Darak followed her, insisting he rest beside her. All he talked about was
the baby. Since she’d moved into the palace, he wouldn’t let her out of his
sight. He made love to her nightly, and any time through the day when he
managed to get her alone. Of course she knew it was because of Beltane, and the
spell she’d cast upon him, but for the god’s sake, for an older
waken
,
the man was insatiable.

He drove her to the brink of madness with his constant
pawing and taking her body as if he had a right to it. She understood that this
time of year affected
wakens
greatly, but damn, she wished he’d give it
a rest. She was sore from the frequency and she was heartily sick of having a
much older
waken
riding her. She deserved someone handsome, like Talon.

“The
baby’s fine,” she muttered. “I’m
fine.”

Before
she could utter a word of protest, Darak rolled her beneath him and thrust
inside her. “You feel fine,” he whispered, and pressed a wet kiss to her mouth.

MeLora
sighed, rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth as he moved his hips, pushed
deeper inside her and sighed with pleasure. She had to escape the man. Soon.

Tomorrow night, she would personally apply the whip to
Talon’s back. She wanted the pleasure of watching him bleed.

Then she would find Saylym, kill her, and take the
emeralds. As Darak suckled her breasts and grunted with satisfaction, she
smiled to herself, pleased with her plans. Yes, tomorrow night, everything
would start to fall in place. One by one, she would destroy the members of the
royal family.

She’d give birth on All Hallows’ Eve, and then she’d have
King Darak assassinated and place her son on the throne. Together, she and
Lucifer would rule Ru-Noc and Sanctuary.

MeLora moaned as Darak thrust harder. Damn, how she
despised this man. He was a rutting weakling. He should take lessons on
strength of character from his son. Now, Talon was a real man.

She wanted him.

Before his death, she would have him. She would punish
Saylym by stealing her mate, just as Saylym had stolen something that belonged
to her. Revenge would be sweet. She already tasted it on her tongue. She moaned
with pleasure just thinking of lighting the fire around Saylym.

MeLora toyed with the idea of offering to give Talon back
to Saylym in exchange for the emeralds. She sighed. Darak grunted and
stiffened, his seed washing her womb.

She
moaned again and tossed her head from side to side as though she was climaxing.
For the moment, she’d pretend to enjoy what King Darak gave her.

* * * *

Saylym gradually opened her eyes, looked around, and
blinked. Overhead, a ridge of bumpy stone formed the ceiling. She frowned. A
stone ceiling? She turned her head slightly to the right and slid her hand down
the wall, rough stone as well. Puzzled, she patted the floor beneath her—dirt?
Where was she? In a cave? She blinked again. Yes. She was definitely in some
type of cave. But where was the cave and how far from Sanctuary was she?

Both frightened and confused, she drew in a deep breath
and moaned as pain spread across her breasts. The back of her throat burned.
She swallowed. No blisters.
No blisters?

Then full memory slammed into her
.
She remembered
the nightmarish, demonic creature touching her, drinking her blood. She
breathed deeply and secretly smiled. Oh, but he’d made a terrible mistake and
it would cost him.

By sending her into a magical sleep, and with the slowing
of her heartbeat, he had given her the time she needed to heal and partially
revitalize her powers. Day had changed to night and night to day. Hours had
passed. She sat up and squeezed herself against the uneven wall behind her.

The creature must have heard her move, because he whirled
around, giving her a facsimile of a smile, his hands wrapped around his thick
shaft. “Ahh, you’re awake, at last. I was beginning to think I was going to
have to fuck you and you out cold as a rock. Bet you’d still feel good. I
waited though. I want to see your eyes, hear you scream, when I put my cock in
you.”

He crouched, as if preparing to leap upon her. If she was
going to stop him from raping her, the time was now.

She’d been too weak before, too sick from the powder he’d
forced into her lungs.

She felt better and stronger now.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and chanted.

“Great Goddess of the moon and light,

Grant me powers in my plight.

Right away, take away, all of my pain,

And grant life to my athame.”

*
* * *

Black Drayke snickered. “What are you chanting? You think
your spells are stronger than mine?”

He snorted and walked toward her.

She stood there, facing him, eyeing him as if he was a
piece of garbage. The little witch wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. She
arched a brow, at him, and waited, daring him to do his worst.

Only—it dawned on him he couldn’t do one damned thing to
her.

He couldn’t see it, but he could hear the low, soft drone
of a wall of magic surrounding her. By the gods, she had used magic and he
hadn’t even been aware of it. If he could get to her, if he smashed through the
magical barrier, he’d kill her. He’d rip out her throat with his fangs.

Black
Drayke groaned and doubled over as agonizing pain stabbed through his gut.

He
was in misery. Damn it! He needed sexual release. The craving to possess her
was like a drug in his veins. Fierce. Intense. The clawing need was driving him
insane. But the witch had outsmarted him. Fierce rage boiled through his veins.
He pulled a ball of fire out of the air and flung it at the invisible shield.
It bounced off, spun around and slammed against the cave’s stone wall before
sputtering out. He couldn’t weaken the wall of magic.

Her lips curved into a taunting smile. Cursing, he
threatened, stormed, and ranted but to no avail. He beat on the wall of magic,
thinking to weaken it but it hadn’t given. Desperation clawed at him. His cock
throbbed and ached. He needed to fuck her. Now!

No matter how he threatened, she stood there in the
corner, calm as could be, and studied him, as if he was some kind of bug.

She was waiting on something. Waiting. Waiting.

But
for what?

Then
realization hit him.

She
was generating power. Slowly, so she had to wait for it to reach its zenith. As
though the bungler believed she would gain enough to combat him. And win.
Him!

Black Drayke reared back, staring at her. He could feel
the hum of power in the air penetrating the barrier and surrounding her.
Protecting her. Keeping her safe from him. He cursed and pounded at the solid
wall of energy that stood between him and his goal.

He had to get to her.

When that power reached its full zenith, she would destroy
him. He could feel her silent determination, and feel her rage and her intent.

For the first time in his life, Black Drayke felt
frightened and insecure with his own cunning and magic. He surged up and went
back to his ceaseless pacing.

Who was this witch who, with very little effort, was
destroying all his plans?

Where had she gained her powers?

Had MeLora been right after all and this witch was of
royal blood?

To conceal his fright, Black Drayke paused in his pacing
and whirled once again to glare at her. He rubbed his aching cock. “When I get
my hands on you, I’m going to ram this in you hard and deep. You’ll think I’ve
pierced your body with a mighty sword!”

Saylym eased to her feet. Inconspicuously, she slid her
hand from behind her skirt. The wall of magic between her and the creature fell
away. Black Drayke whirled to face her. A sneer tightened his lips. “What have
you got there?”

He started toward her but paused as she held up a dagger.
Smirking, he stared at the beautiful Celtic knot work on the hilt. “That is the
source of your magic?” He threw back his head, laughing. “I know that athame.
That belongs to Talon. What are you doing with—?” His words ended abruptly and
he uttered curses. “You’ve already bonded with him.” He sniffed the air, his
lungs filling with the scent of unborn babies. He threw back his head and
roared his rage. He’d intended to plant his own seed in her.

Furious at having his plans thwarted again, he glared his
hatred at Saylym. Then he sniffed the air again to be certain. “You carry
double. What magic is this? That is impossible.”

Saylym slid her palm across her belly in a protective
gesture. “Anything is possible when you descend from a royal bloodline.”

Black Drayke hissed his fury as fresh rage and frustration
slammed into his gut. “Impossible! I don’t care what you claim. There are no
royal-blooded witches left.”

Damn MeLora and her sneaky conniving. She must have known
for certain that the Winslow witch descended from royal ancestry. She’d let him
go after Saylym knowing what he would come up against. The bitch!

Saylym’s gaze turned wintry as morning frost. “According
to whom?”

Black Drayke surged toward her, his rage uncontrollable.
Incredulity spread across his dark face as she sliced the top of his hand with
the athame. He yelled with shock and pain, staring in stunned surprise at the
deep cut. Blood, black as death, flowed freely, spilling onto the cave floor.
Black, sulfuric smoke belched from each droplet as though something evil and
noxious had been spilled.

“That is for daring to touch me,” Saylym hissed between
clenched teeth. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll slice off that thing you’re
so proud of and stuff it up your ass, then you can fertilize yourself!”

Black Drayke screeched like a wounded animal. With a
clenched fist, he struck the invisible barrier Saylym flung back up. “Let me
in! I’m going to kill you! Kill both you and the brats Talon planted in you! His
offspring are dead! Dead! Do you hear me?” The soil hissed from the poison he
spat upon the ground near the edge of the barrier. “Don’t think being descended
from royal blood will save you. There’s one more powerful than you.”

“There’s one who
believes
she is more powerful.
That is her mistake.”

He blinked, unable to believe his hearing. She’d answered
so calmly, without fear.

“Go, Black Drayke. Go to your MeLora. Tell her I’ll be at
the village square tonight. I’ll be waiting for her. If she harms Talon, I’ll
come after her with a vengeance that will make what the coven did to her seem
tame in comparison. Go, while I’m still in the mood to allow you to live!”