Logan: Her Warlock Protector Book 3 (6 page)

“Damn. That’s unreal,” she said, putting the next set of tickets in her hands and eyeing the giant stuffed pony on the highest shelf. It was an absurd amount of points but that was no matter to Logan. “So you can’t just concentrate or say a spell or whatever and luck the Corps’ way into winning the entire war?”

“No, I wish that were true,” he said, and then Logan had to slam his eyes shut at the onslaught of memory. Again it hit him—the nauseating smell of coppery blood and viscera, the loud crunch of a spine severing, and the hot blood splattering across his face. He was back in the battle and he was staring at his friend’s lifeless, glazed eyes fixed back at his own. Logan blinked and stumbled into the counter. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be buddy. Now throw the darn thing or get on to the next game,” the attendant said.

Caitlin glared at the man and balled her hands at her sides. For a moment, Logan was glad she didn’t have a more dangerous or offensive power. She was keyed up enough to do some serious damage if she really felt like it. He wasn’t sure she wouldn’t scratch some eyes out if given a chance.
 

“Back off!” she yelled. Then she turned back to him and stroked his pony tail back over his shoulder. “Okay what was that?”

“Flashback. I’ve been in too many battles not to have some trauma of my own. I apologize.”

She sighed and kissed his cheek, and he was grateful his display hadn’t repulsed her. “I know how that is. I used to have the worst nightmares after mom and dad were murdered. I never had flashbacks or day time visions, but I had the worst time asleep. I refused for a week before my aunt made me start drinking chamomile.”

“You swear by that still?”

“I swear by so many herbs, right? Part of who we are?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask about it?”

“I prefer if you don’t,” he said, trying not to ache when she dropped her hand back and pulled away from him, her eyes downcast.
 

Rubbing the pouch of cinnamon and sage in his pocket, Logan whispered a quick prayer to the Goddess before winding up. Bottles crashed everywhere after his thunderous throw, and the oily game runner just glared at him. Spittle threatening to infest his greying mustache as he shouted.
 

“So you won. Pick your damn prize and get out.”

Logan grabbed the pony and shoved the giant beast under his arm. With his other arm, he reached out and grasped Caitlin to him, a better prize than anything you could win in a game of chance. “I’ll be happy to, mate.”

HE WAITED BEHIND her, outside of her door with the massive pony under her arm. It was one of the ugliest stuffed animals he’d ever seen in his long life. It was about the size of a terrier and had neon yellow fur. Logan had no idea why of all the colors she could have picked that Caitlin went with that one. It amused him; that much was true. There were shades and sides to the tough redhead that he was only beginning to glimpse. Now he only had to make her understand that it was more than Corps duty that was drawing him toward her, and that he’d never felt this way before about anyone in what had sometimes felt like endless centuries.

She fumbled for her keys, snaking them out of her purse before unlocking the door, more locks of hair falling in her face as she pushed the stuck door forward. Pure exasperation, pure cuteness.
 

“I’m sorry. I can never find those damn things.”

He grinned and followed her through into her half of the duplex. “You’d think you could. Is that a Yoda key chain? It’s easily the size of my palm, lass.”

She blushed and put the offending keys and hunk of decoration on her kitchen counter.
 

“So you’re a badass Wiccan,” she said, “who goes around fighting for his life against Knights of the Round Table–”

“They’re not actually those. King Arthur, while a fascinating myth, is only that.”

She rolled her eyes and slipped off her high heels. Logan caught sight of her creamy white calf and had to straighten his suit jacket in front of him. The things she did to him.

“Oh whatever. So you have all the time for that but somehow
also
squeeze in keeping up with the latest blockbusters.”

“Of the 1970s.”

“Yeah but if you’re three hundred, what’s forty years?”

“It’s longer than you’d think when you’re lonely,” he admitted, leaning over and cupping her cheek. “Whatever we do tonight and wherever we go from here, I need you to understand this is not just about fulfilling duty with me. This is something completely new.”

Green eyes flicked back and forth over his face, as if making any eye contact at all was too hard for her. Logan sighed and wished he could explain better about everything.

“I want to believe you, that this is something as big for you as it is for me. I just don’t know how to let go.”

“Then,” he said, leaning down and kissing her. “It doesn’t have to be everything in one night. Let me at least show you how devoted I can be.”

Her shoulders were so rigid, everything about her posture like a statue, but at least Caitlin nodded her assent.
 

“I’ll try.” She forced a smile back at him, something painfully bright with too many teeth showing, before breaking away from him and showing him the whole expanse of her apartment. “Do you want the ten cent tour?”

“Is that overpriced for a place of probably three rooms?”

“I do have a back stoop too, I hope you know.”

“My Goddess, then, this is a real deal.”

She grinned and turned on all the lights. He smirked at the eclectic decorating sense before him. Caitlin had an old green plaid couch with afghans littering it that could only be described, and kindly at that, as thrift store sheik. Her small altar was well arranged with the correct candles and colorings for their meanings and her skill level. It had the heart of purity in its center but the herbs weren’t right, not completely. She needed more than the current display of jasmine and oleander for her particular gift set. Oddly, they looked like they’d barely been touched and he wondered if she’d bought new herbs recently or was trying a different set altogether. Her mixture would have been far better for someone with shapeshifting magic. He’d have time to teach her the right combinations for her gifts, if only she’d let him.

Of course, near the altar there were tapestries, and they also were a mix that no trained Wiccan would have used. A few silk banners that had been hand painted, a few more commercial looking products that were maybe from Chinatown with incorrect symbols on them, even a gris-gris bag or something improvised to that effect. The statue of Sappho on a low shelf made him click his tongue. Leaning over, he picked her up and quirked his head at her.

“So you like ancient poetry?”

She frowned back as she tossed off her wrap; it melted into the mass of fabric already on her sofa.
 

“No that’s Diana. You know Goddess of the Hunt in Roman mythology. Well, at least that’s what the store owner promised me.”

“Oh that’s Sappho.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she blushed.
 

“Oh! I…maybe I didn’t do the best in finding all my spell materials after all.”

“You could say that. I admire the attempts but your set up leaves something to be desired,” he chuckled pointing to the closed door which, oddly, had a gleaming new knob on it. The others on her front door were old and had a patina of rust from the years in Baltimore, were rounded. This was some flat push deal that could have come from the local Home Depot. “Been doing home improvement?”

She swallowed and eyed her altar. “I…never mind. We can get there. I just was trying some different things.”

“Is that the bedroom?” he asked, his voice taking on a booming baritone on its own accord.
 

She did that to him. All he wanted to do even if it wasn’t fully time was taste her, make her feel like she was
his
.

“Well that’s where the magic happens,” she said before blushing and opening up the door. “Okay so now that that could actually be literal, I still feel stupid saying that. I…what’s going to happen now?”

He waited for her in the living room, watching her face and body language as she hesitated on the threshold to her bedroom.
 

“Nothing you don’t want. I just want to make you feel alive, feel everything that’s been denied to you so far. I will do anything you ask. So,” he added, leaning up next to her, letting the heat of his breath linger on her cheeks. “You only have to ask yourself what you want.”

“You,” she replied, her voice so quiet that he thought he’d imagined it at first. “I want you.”

“Then you have all of me, darling,” he said, voice a low rumble. “Lead me.”

She laughed and surprised him by going to her knees right there, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Well, I don’t suppose this is commitment and forever, if we just fool around.”

He wanted to object, to scream that for him everything was changing. It was if he’d been fumbling along his whole life with a lighter for his only illumination and now someone had turned on stadium lights. Goddess, he did want forever with her, to initiate her fully and soon into their world. But he couldn’t overwhelm her or afford to lose her either. So he offered her a small lie.
 

“No, it can be whatever you need.”

“Then I need my mouth around you,” she said.

Leaning against the threshold, Logan nodded and watched as she unzipped his pants. Nimble fingers undid his belt buckle and everything fell to the floor, leaving him exposed. His erection that had been a source of so much consternation all night sprung free.

“So you’re not a boxers
or
briefs guy.”

“Always go wild. I never did adjust to certain newer things.”

“Goddess I don’t know how I can. You’re just…” she stopped, her eyes gazing up at him, full of longing and panic. “What if I’m not good enough?”

He leaned down and captured her mouth with his own, their tongues soon stroking over each other in a fierce dance for dominance. His heart pounded and blood surged through his veins with a renewed fire. Lifting his head back up, he squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be everything.”

She nodded and reached up, tentatively at first, for his cock. Soft, delicate fingers wrapped around him, caressing his head at first with the faintest of tickles. Despite himself, Logan moaned. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself any pleasure, and her touch was so feather light, so enticing. Her right hand reached out and traced the line of body hair leading to his crotch and finally came to nestle itself around his balls.

“Wow,” she murmured. “I’ve never…you’re so amazing.”

“Mhm, but I love the way you touch me. Feels so damn good.”

She gulped, and he opened his eyes a slit, still more desperate to give into sensations than stay completely lucid. Her left hand wrapped fully around his shaft, and she began to pump. Tender hands alternated between masterfully playing with his balls, rolling them between her thumb and forefingers. Meanwhile, her rhythm had picked up pace, and he had to work to keep his knees from buckling underneath him. The friction was tremendous, and all he could think about was how much better it would feel some day to have himself buried deep inside her.

Nerves on fire, Logan shouted out a bit, something incoherent and feral.

Then her tongue was on him, and he almost stumbled.

Looking down again, he felt his balls grow tight with the need to cum as her half-lidded eyes regarded him. His little witch was far more devil than angel tonight, that was for damn sure. She started as she had with her fingers, just feather light touches at first, things calculated to titillate and drive him mad without true release. All the while her right hand was massaging his balls with expert skill. Then she opened her mouth wide and took him up to his testicles. She was pumping hard now and he was moving with her, fucking her mouth with complete abandon. Every time he thought he’d cum, she slowed her pace down and loosened her grip on his balls. At first, he assumed she was hesitating, or afraid he’d shoot his seed all over her.

How wrong he was.

After one extended session, his minx pulled back and grinned up at him, something feral and taunting. “You come when I say, MacCulloch.”

She was teasing him.

And Goddess how.

Maybe Jonathan was wrong about her gifts. She wasn’t just a seer. Caitlin’s power had to deal with the pleasure she wielded as well as he could wield a blade. This witch could bring you to the edge of pleasure but never quite permit true release.
 

They were on their third round of this game and his testicles were tight with need, and his cock pulsed with every touch of her lips and tongue. He was moaning and begging, and, unlike any other time in his life, Logan didn’t care. He just wanted this to end and was somewhat scared that after it did, he’d never feel pleasure like this again.

Finally, she focused on his head, rapid licks causing his whole body to thrum with need and pleasure. A quick squeeze of her right hand, and he pulled out of her mouth, coming beside her, almost stumbling to the floor with his ecstasy. Small arms slipped under his shoulder, and a Cheshire cat grin was painted over Caitlin’s face.

“You don’t need a doctor do you? Or how about a time out?”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m not going to lie,” she said, helping him into the bedroom and letting him rest on her queen mattress. “I enjoyed watching you like that. Someone’s been giving me all the curve balls. Felt good to give it back to you.”

He nodded and refused to let his body go boneless. It was rare for him to take pleasure before the women he laid with. Of course, based on Caitlin’s smirk, she’d definitely had a good time as well. She disappeared for a moment, and he heard water running in her bathroom and the sound of a tooth brush on her teeth. When she was back, she handed him a moist hand towel and he cleaned up as well.

“So I think after everything, you’re ready for a good night’s sleep?”

He shook his head and stood up. Grabbing each of her shoulders, Logan tightened his grasp just a bit.