Married (5 page)

Her imagination pitched in gleefully, bringing his ghostly form a greater sense of enormity. Magic manipulated her mind and body. She felt his cock notch between her folds, slipping over her until her pussy quaked and creamed. Nerves sat up and paid attention, no longer solely focused on the sensation of warm magic.

She was confused. She didn’t know what he was doing, or how. “Silver?”

He understood the question she didn’t have the voice to ask. “Your magic and mine, Georgie. Bane witch to Reap witch. It connects through space and time.”

The tip of his cock nudged against her opening. It was cool but throbbing, magic at work while his body was elsewhere. She lifted her eyes to his, suddenly wishing he was really there with her, driving into her until she was lost to pleasure and unable to think about all the ways he could hurt her. She wanted him to fill her with more warmth than his magic could provide. No matter the consequences.

His eyes snapped open. “Yes or no, love?”

“Madeleine said no.” Georgie struggled to keep that in mind. Her grandmother had warned her in strident tones. If Georgie had sex with Silviu before they were married, Madeleine would make Christiana her heir.

“This won’t defy Madeleine. How could it? I’m not even there.”

She breathed out, tried to think, to rationalize, but her pussy was stretching around a magical intrusion, clenching in demand while heat snaked into her depths. In the end, Georgie could only nod her permission. Silviu slid into her with a cool pressure that stroked every nerve in her core, his magic a golden fire in her bones. She was stretched, but unfilled, caressed, but not touched.

She wanted so much more. She wanted everything. Georgie squeezed her eyes closed and pretended for all she was worth that it was enough to have his energy sliding in, pulling out, over and over again. In only a moment, the pressure of his magic sparked her brain into believing what wasn’t possible. She ignored the difference between how it felt when they were skin to skin, and how it felt then, mind to magic. She let her body succumb to the pleasure he sent her.

His magic raced over her and through her. The golden river of power vibrated along her nerves, plucked at her nipples and circled her clit. Falling under the spell, Georgie became nothing but sheer sensation, weightless, a roiling mass of need.

She undulated on the bed, writhed on the comforter, pushing her head into her pillow until her short, curly hair was a tangle around her ears. Breathing was a chore as her heart pounded a rhythm that matched the pulsing magic Silviu drove into her. Pleasure spiked hard.

Her pussy rippled around his energy and she wished it was his body, instead. With that thought, her mind fell over the edge, pouring satisfaction down her spine until she was heated through, the nerves in her mound exploding with pleasure.

It ripped through her, but softly. It dropped her, but gently. Only with Silviu was Georgie completely overwhelmed—this was her own body, reacting to what it desired most, but without his strength of will undermining her familial responsibilities. Without his physical presence tempting her into complete surrender.

Her climax was a curiously lonely sensation.

He shimmered and shivered, blurred and faded. Her contracting inner walls held less and less of his magical form as his projection waned. Georgie slowly drifted back into sleep, even as her body continued to pulse, even as her heart continued to cry out for her lover and the way he always held her tight as she tumbled from her pleasure’s peak.

Her last thoughts before true sleep claimed her were filled with schemes to change her grandmother’s demands of abstinence.

Chapter Four

Silviu

“Are you making contingency plans in case Graves throws you out?”

His sister’s whispered question had Silviu dragging his eyes from the window as the runway’s landing lights grew more distinct. He’d been lost in recollections of waking up that afternoon, groaning Georgie’s name. He had still felt her silken skin against his—nothing more than an overactive memory—and her soft walls flexing around his cock—nothing more than an overactive imagination. His balls had been hammering, his dick throbbing. He’d no sooner opened his eyes than he’d come in a hot flood of need and wishful thinking.

He’d stared at his sticky navel and plotted murder. Enough was enough—Madeleine would have to relent.

“No,” Silviu finally answered. “If Georgie’s going to be there, Graves will simply have to accommodate my presence.”

After his astral conversation with Georgeanne, Silviu had found Eliasz in a foul mood. Ileana had been ordered to travel with him to England and her betrothed was displeased with the request. More specifically, Eliasz was unhappy that Ileana would be anywhere close to the vicinity Graves Ngozi claimed for himself.

Silviu had asked Eliasz about Graves, but only got vague answers of untrustworthiness. When he’d told the other man that Georgie was being forced to go, the look on his brother-in-law’s face had nearly stopped Silviu’s heart. Premonition beat at him. In that moment, Silviu had jettisoned his own plans and invited himself on the trip.

Ileana leaned in close. “But do you—”

“Hush.” He looked around the crowded airplane at the occupants preparing for the landing and their subsequent exit. Neither Eliasz Levy nor his father had the funds to maintain a private jet. “There are too many people around for us to have this conversation. I don’t know who we’re sharing our space with.”

For the next hour, Silviu gritted his teeth, impatient to ask the questions he’d not yet been able to broach as the plane landed and he, his brother-in-law and sister waited around the baggage carousel for their luggage. Heathrow was a nightmare, people crowding close, lines stretching around corners, but eventually they found a little man holding a sign bearing the Levy name. It was unexpected and highly suspicious, but they climbed into the limo anyway.

Silviu delayed speaking until the glass partition between driver and passengers was fully raised. For added security, he flicked his fingers and waited for the silencing spell to fill the back seat. “Eliasz, have you learned anything more of Graves Ngozi?”

The man looked up, the fading evening light through the tinted windows catching on his blond hair and sparking eerily against his blue eyes. “What exactly do you want to know?”

Silviu glanced at his sister, snuggled into Eliasz’s side and clutching his hand.

“You’ve been on edge since we left your house, not letting go of Ileana’s hand the entire time. Are you worried about her?”

Eliasz’s lips tightened. “I don’t know. I don’t like Graves and I don’t trust him. I’ve heard that he doesn’t always treat women well,” he looked down into his betrothed’s face, “so I plan to keep you in my sights, sweetheart.”

Silviu shifted on the seat, trying to pinpoint the source of his misgivings. It wasn’t being an uninvited guest at the hastily thrown together Ngozi celebration. He could handle that easily. His disquiet came more from Georgie’s unexpected presence at the patriarchal party, and the reasoning behind it. “What about your talent? What secrets has the wind been telling you?”

“Not much.” Eliasz shrugged. “I heard that Muso Ngozi will be there, which ought to prove entertaining for the rest of us. Hopefully not deadly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“A rumor that I can’t pin down. According to the breeze, Muso and Graves had a serious falling out a decade ago. It also said something about a magic battle and the death of the former secondary branch leader.”

“Muso killed him?”

“I don’t think he was involved, but it’s not very clear. Apparently, Graves wasn’t supposed to be the leader. The heir disappeared shortly after the former secondary branch leader’s death, and Graves stepped in.”

“Disappeared?” Cold fingers trailed over the back of Silviu’s neck, a warning he always tried to heed.

Eliasz nodded, clearly concerned. “Gone without a trace, as well as his wife and daughter.”

“Are they dead?”

“I know the rightful heir is. The status of his family is in question.”

Silviu eyed the other man thoughtfully. “Your talent has a bad habit of being inconsistent.”

“Yeah, well, so is the breeze. My magic can only do so much, and if I’m not listening, who’s to say where the fault lies? What do I care about Graves Ngozi?” Eliasz shook his head. “Not a damn thing until Daniel decided Ileana needed to join the festivities.”

There was no time left to delve into the subject. It was an inconveniently short drive from the airport to the Ngozi residence. Silviu stared out of the window in astonishment at the soaring hotel, garishly emblazoned with lighted script that set every nerve in his body to jangling.

Silviu closed his eyes. “He named the hotel
Witch Hunt
?”

Eliasz’s lips twisted. “It gets one-star reviews on the Internet, but it’s always packed with tourists.”

“He spells it,” Ileana said as she shuffled toward the window for a better view. “I can see the magic surrounding the structure, calling in the travelers.”

Silviu saw the same thing, an unsubtle red swirl climbing the damp brick exterior. He didn’t doubt that the magic extended to everything to do with the hotel, exerting a small tug on anyone looking at the accommodations. Even over the Internet.

“It’s a dangerous thing to do,” he finally said. “There are regular people in the world who will be able to see that magic.
God
, and the name…”

Ileana patted his arm. “It’s been a long time since the witch hunts swept through England, Silver. It probably doesn’t mean anything and no one will think much of it. Relax.”

“Yet, there are so many hunts still taking place in much of the world.” Silviu slid from the car and lowered his voice. “It doesn’t take much to spark mass hysteria. The rest of us are so careful, so insular, and he does something so stupid.”

Eliasz helped Ileana exit the vehicle, pulling her into his side as two men in green bellhop suits rushed to take their bags from the trunk. “Graves sold the Ngozi Family manor soon after he took over the branch, and bought this hotel instead.” He turned to bare his teeth in a parody of a smile at the driver, standing too close for comfort. “It has flair, doesn’t it?”

Silviu hid a shudder. “Sure.”

They made their way inside and a curious sensation curled around Silviu’s nerves as he entered the hotel. He couldn’t identify the cause. The front steps were awash in green lights, making it tricky to judge the depths of each stone platform, but that was still better than the dark lobby, illuminated only with soft blue spotlights, effectively creating a dungeon-like effect.

Silviu glanced around the oppressive room and fought to keep his face impassive. Two groupings of stiff Victorian furniture created an unwelcoming aisle leading toward the long check-in counter. The wildly patterned dark carpet was ragged at the edges. Massive palms and ferns lined the walls. “This is awful.”

Eliasz frowned. “And it’s hard to see what all this shit is hiding, or who’s listening.”

“Yes,” Silviu agreed.

“My esteemed guests! Welcome!”

A man stepped from a nearly invisible doorway to the right. His poison-green suit shone in the dimness, the matching fedora on his head set at a jaunty angle. His right hand wielded a walking stick boasting a green stone the size of a baby’s fist, while his left dragged a woman in his wake.

Silviu blinked. The woman was beyond beautiful, the perfect symmetry of her face only marred by the pull of her lips as they twisted with bitter anger. She struggled slightly against the man’s hold, but he paid her no heed. Within a few steps, she was forced to pick up her feet and move as quickly as him, or suffer the indignity of being dragged across the carpet.

Eliasz gave a low curse and Silviu went cold as he sensed the other man’s inner white knight rise up. The Levy man’s honor would be the death of him if he wasn’t careful. Silviu prayed Eliasz could hold it together, at least long enough to evaluate the situation.

“I am Graves Ngozi, and this is my humble abode.” The man grinned and waved his stick.

Silviu elevated his head. “I am Silviu Lovasz—”

“No Lovasz was invited.” The grin dropped from the man’s face.

“Nevertheless”—Silviu smiled and gestured to indicate his companions—“my sister was expected, and as she’s not yet married to Eliasz Levy, I’m here as a chaperone.”

It was a thin excuse—very thin. A marriage after a betrothal was just a formality, and his sister had already spent the past week in Eliasz’s bed. Silviu refused to look at Ileana as she stiffened and bit her lips, but he knew what she was thinking. Her inner rebel would never willingly tolerate a chaperone at this stage in her relationship.

“And I am Eliasz Levy.” Sliding forward smoothly, Eliasz held out his free hand, the other tightening around Ileana’s fingers until Silviu saw his knuckles whiten.

“You were invited by Daniel. My beautiful Constance told me about you.” Graves flashed a maniacal grin and nodded at Silviu. “No matter that you are crashing my wedding, my friend. We are a hotel and have plenty of space for all.”

“Thank you,” Silviu murmured. “How kind.”

“Yes, I know.” Graves hauled the woman to his side, pushing her a bit in front of him. Deftly shifting his stick under his arm, he raised his newly freed hand to wrap around the woman’s throat. Not gently. “I suppose I shall present my pet, Tulah.”

“I’m not your pet.” Her voice was low and mean and slightly strangled as her head was forced back with unsubtle pressure on her neck.

“You are what I say you are,
pet
.” Graves smirked at Eliasz as if they had something in common with each other. “She is a long-lost Ngozi little girl, come home to me now.”

“Not that I had a choice.” Tulah shifted under Graves’ hand.

Which tightened until she stilled. Paleness swept over her chestnut skin, her lips thinned. Graves smoothed his hand down the line of her throat, over her breastbone and past her ribs. It was clear he would keep going when Eliasz stepped forward and laid his own hand over Graves’ wrist.