Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2)

The Moon Magick Series

By

Sable Hunter

Evangeline is magical. She longs to find her soulmate - and being a woman of power - she whips up a spell and conjures him up. Austin Firefighter Eric McCallister is enchanted by the beautiful woman who sculpted his likeness from a dream. Immediately, their attraction and chemistry burns like a wildfire. But, all is not a fairy-tale. An arsonist is stalking Eric and someone is trying to kill Evangeline. On top of that, there's magick afoot that can call down storms, bring the dead back to life and break ancient curses. But, the greatest magick of all is the love Eric has for Sweet Evangeline.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2014 © Sable Hunter

Published by Beau Coup Publishing

http://beaucoupllcpublishing.com

Cover by JRA Stevens

For Beau Coup Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

The class assignment had been to create the perfect man.

As a witch, she should have known better. But it had been so much fun.

No, this wasn’t Hogwarts. The project was for a final grade in the Advanced Sculpting Class at the University of Texas in Austin. And since Evangeline had all of these powers just lying around, she decided to cheat. If she were going to sculpt the perfect man, she wanted it to be
her
perfect man. After all, it was somewhat a tradition for the women in the Beaureguarde clan to seek out the face of their beloved. Her grandmother, Nanette had seen her grandfather’s face in waters obtained from an old well dug by slaves down in New Iberia Parish, near Bayou Teche. So, why shouldn’t she try? All she wanted to do was look. There couldn’t possibly be any harm in that. Could there?

The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Up to this point in her life, men had just not been a factor. Despite what some would call her wild pagan ways, Evangeline was an old-fashioned girl. She was a romantic. As pathetic as it might sound, she was saving herself for the man of her dreams. And so far, he had kept himself very well hidden. Now that she had decided to tempt herself with his face, she couldn’t think of anything else. The Summer Solstice was at hand and according to her Book of Shadows, there was no better time for this exciting experiment.

God, she was hot! She stood in the dark and listened to the creaking of the old house as it settled on its piers. Living off campus hadn’t been a mistake; she needed the room for her sculpting. But still, the nights were almost unbearable. It was the incessant heat! Austin was under a heat wave advisory and the air conditioning did little to cool the poorly insulated house. But that wasn’t the heat that kept Evangeline Martel awake; it was the heat of desire that flowed through her body.

Evangeline cast a circle and then sat down in the middle of it. Despite her initial enthusiasm, this had not been an easy decision. Evangeline knew love spells were not to be taken lightly. Through the years, she had seen lonely women come to her grandmother, seeking assistance in finding true love or holding on to a man who was ready to pull up stakes and move on. Love spells could back-fire on you. So, Evangeline had to be very careful.

He was out there. She could feel him. Their paths had not crossed; she would have known, she would have recognized him. And she longed to see his face. Tonight, she would.

Sipping a tea made from orange peel and meadowsweet, she closed her eyes and willed herself into a trance like state. Holding her palms upward, she hummed—just a couple of notes—a melodic, poignant repetition that settled her mind and opened her spirit to the powers surrounding her. When she felt she had made a connection to the Goddess, she lit a red candle and uncovered the black scrying mirror that lay before her.

Placing her hands over the mirror, but not touching the surface she began to speak.

“Mirror of power, show me his face

Show me my true love, through time and space

Bring me his image, revealed in your light

Share with me your vision, bring him to my sight.

Slowly, she moved her hands away. At first the surface of the mirror was smooth, but then it was as if it became fluid and a mist seemed to rise from the depths of the blackness. A light began to glow from deep within the reflection. Evangeline’s heart began to race and her blood was rushing so fast it roared in her ears. She leaned over the mirror, her long dark hair creating an ebony curtain on either side of her face. “Come on sweetheart, let me see you,” she spoke to him as if he could hear her.

A form began to appear. It moved closer, slowly, as if coming from a long distance. Evangeline closed her eyes, willing him to come to her. “Come on, baby, I’ve waited for you so long.” She opened her eyes. And gasped.

An image was in the mirror. It was a man, and
he . . .was . . .beautiful
. No human being should be so perfect. “Please, let him be real.” she prayed. He didn’t look real. He looked like an angel.
Angel
. Until she had a name, that was what she would call him. Hair of gold, eyes of green, a body that Adonis would die for, and he would be
hers
? “Come to me, love. I can’t wait to hold you.” Her grandmother would faint at the sacrilege, but Evangeline couldn’t help herself, she bent down and kissed the surface of the scrying mirror. Because right now, it was as close as she could get.

Evangeline Martel could never leave well enough alone. Now that she had seen Angel, she wanted him. As her hands fashioned the clay, they itched to touch his skin. As her fingers molded his muscles, they longed to knead his flesh. She had it bad. If she were a regular girl, she would have sighed with longing and endured. But she wasn’t. What was the use of possessing ancient tomes of wisdom if they just lay on the shelf to catch dust?

On the second floor of the small house she rented Evangeline had made a ‘craft room’. The thought made her laugh. So many Martha Stewart wannabe’s had craft rooms filled with hot glue guns, paper cutters, beads and such. However, her craft room was different. It was full of herbs, oils, gemstones and candles. A rug lay on the floor that was inscribed with a circle. Next to the window, a small altar sat that held her bell, her Book of Shadows and a beautiful pentagram carved from a sacred oak. Bookshelves lined the walls, each level laden down with books concerning the craft. The types of magick represented were myriad—there was Celtic, Hoodoo, Voodoo, and Santeria, even Egyptian. There were books on the magical uses of herbs and the proper way to use crystals. Far Eastern knowledge was also represented with books on Reiki and chakras. If a spell was needed, Evangeline had no excuse.

Sitting on the floor, she thumbed through a likely volume. Yes, here it was. ‘How To Call Your Dream Lover To You’. Perfect.

Evangeline lay alone in her bed and longed for a man.

Not just any man would do, it had to be
him
. She closed her eyes and willed him to come to her. She wasn’t dreaming, she wasn’t even asleep. Evangeline was wide-awake and desperately hungry for his touch. Her eyes went to the closed door of her bedroom. She imagined it opened slowly.

Someone was standing there, in the shadows.

‘Oh Goddess, please let it be him,’ she breathed. The figure stepped forward and her body began to tingle. It was Angel! He had heard her heart’s cry. He had come.

Her eyes devoured him. His chest and shoulders were massive, yet he was lean and hard and muscled to perfection. A pair of jeans, low slung, covered powerful thighs and tight hips. But what caused the cleft between her legs to dew with excitement was the blatant evidence of his desire for her. Angel was immensely aroused, his erection straining the threads that kept it bound.

She came to her knees on the bed and held her hand out to him, pleading for him to come closer. Her dark blue eyes, the color of the Caribbean Sea at twilight, locked with eyes of the deepest forest green. “Angel, I need you so.” At first glance, his face appeared hard and unyielding, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. But his lips were sensuous and when he smiled at her, a hint of a dimple next to his mouth made her want to probe the tiny well with her tongue.

“Do you want me, love?” he asked, seemingly sure of her answer. He came to her, placing one knee on the bed next to her, pulling her body close to his. Evangeline’s breathing grew ragged. She clung to him, pressing her needy breasts to his rock-hard chest.

“I am desperate for you,” she confessed. She let her tongue play over his chest, circling his nipples, nipping at the defined pecs. Her hands were not still. She feverishly caressed his shoulders, slid her palms down his arms, around his waist and up his back. He moaned his enjoyment, his hands cupping her hips, kneading. Pulling her tightly against him, his own hips begin to buck slowly against her, pushing rhythmically, making her know exactly what he wanted—to be inside of her.

Breaking the embrace, she pulled her own gown over her head, anxious to feel his hot skin rub against her own fevered body. “Take these off,” she urged, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, pushing them down his hips. Her hands cupped him through the cotton briefs, tracing the living evidence of his manhood. “I love how your cock jumps in my hand.” In answer to her caress, he ripped the jeans and briefs from his legs, giving her full access to all that he was. She pushed him back on the bed and knelt over him. “I can’t get enough of you.” She took him in her hand, marveling at the length and breadth of him. “You are so thick. I cannot tell you much I want you to push deep inside of me, stretching me, filling me. I ache for you.” He tried to sit up, as if he would take control. But she would not have it, not yet. She took him in her hand, rubbing his shaft up and down, letting her other hand gently massage his sac, a growl escaping from his lips as she teased his round, hard balls. She couldn’t keep her mouth off him. He tasted salty, musky, and manly. Her tongue tickled the large, mushroom-shaped head of his penis. But that wasn’t enough. He pushed it up toward her lips, and she gave him what he longed for. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could, letting her tongue and lips feast on him. Setting a pace that was designed to drive him mad, she moved her mouth up and down his rod until he lifted her from him, laid her back and rose over her.

“Are you ready for me?” He cupped her pussy; the creamy wetness he found was a testimony to her excitement.

“Completely.” Evangeline closed her eyes, lifted her hips and relished the exquisite thrill that rushed through her when he began to enter her trembling depths. “Oh, Angel, I’ve dreamed of this for so long!” She flexed her inner muscles, drawing him deeper, hungrily pulling him in, until he was buried completely—their joining a merging of minds and hearts, as well as bodies. “How does this feel?” she asked as she undulated her hips, milking his shaft with the contractions of her inner muscles.

“Amazing.” He leaned over her, drinking from her lips, scorching her neck with hot, wet kisses, and then blazing a trail from the hollow of her throat to the peak of a plump, swollen nipple that throbbed with need. He wet her nipple with his tongue, blew his heated breath on it, causing it to thrust upward seeking his attention. “Do you want me to suck them, love?”

“Oh, please.” He gave her relief, opening his lips wide, taking as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. Then he began to pull on the areola, creating a mind-blowing suction that spiraled directly to her clit, forcing a groan from her lips. He laved the swollen bud with his tongue, and then he began to move. In and out, in and out, increasing the rhythm until she was mad with sensation. He held her up, moved to her other breast and gave it the same heart-melting attention. All the while, he was plunging, pumping, rocking, thrusting, pleasuring her until she arched off the bed and shuddered in unspeakable ecstasy.

The contractions of her climax went on and on, spurring him toward his own explosion of heat and light. “Oh, Angel, I love you so.” She held her arms up to him, ready to draw him down for a sweet, deep kiss.

But her hands closed over nothingness. He was not there, he never had been.

* * * *

“Holy Shit!” Eric McAllister woke up from the wettest dream he had ever had. Lord, you’d think he was sixteen years old, again. Damn! To be honest, he had never had a dream like this at sixteen or since then. He looked down at himself and the sheets. Laughing at his predicament, he began extricating himself from his bed linens. Cum was everywhere, he had exploded in the most thunderous orgasm of his life. Desperately he tried to hang on to the feeling, to the touch of those hands, to the velvety rasp of her tongue. God in heaven, she had been the hottest lay in he had ever—and it had all been a dream.

He crawled reluctantly from his bed. It seemed that if he closed his eyes and held out his arms she would come to him. Long dark hair, creamy soft skin, big ole’ navy blue eyes and the most delightful body he had ever wrapped himself around. What blew his mind was that it had been so damn real! He could still feel the heat of her pussy on his cock. She had squeezed him like a vise. Never in his fairly vast sexual experience had he felt like this. He was milked, drained, thoroughly wrung out to dry. Every cell in his body was vibrating with earth-shaking, mind-blowing lust.

Walking to the bath, he flipped on the light and stared at himself in the mirror. “Hell, if I could meet that sweetheart in my dreams every time, I would go to a doctor and demand to be put into a permanent coma.” Letting his eyes drift shut, he remembered how she had went wild, taking control, pushing him back on the bed, straddling him, sucking on his nipples. God, she had nearly devoured him. And speaking of nipples, her breasts had been succulent, he had latched on to those hard little nubbins and sucked to his heart’s content. The sexiest thing was—the more he gave—the more she wanted.

Now, that was a woman. He hated to compare a dream girl to the real woman he had been dating. Unfortunately for Jessica, she fell far short of the hot little angel who loved him so hard in his dream. Her voice had been husky and wanton, and she had the sexiest braid of long thick hair that he had used to anchor her in place as he had drilled into her with gusto. The scary part of this whole thing was that sex for him might never be the same—now that he had had the best—how was he ever going to settle for less?

Even hours later, Eric McAllister was still restless. After cleaning himself up and changing the bed linens—he finally admitted to himself there was something missing from his life. It was haunting him; an aching, yawning void that left his soul yearning for…for…for what he didn’t exactly know.

Not being able to sleep, he climbed from his bed and walked to the window. Looking out over the Austin skyline, he tried to pinpoint his dissatisfaction. To anyone observing his life, he had it all. He had a good job as a firefighter for the Austin Fire Department and was next in line for a promotion. He had been honored by the city for bravery beyond the call of duty, not once but twice. A diploma hung on his wall from his beloved University of Texas, and when he grew tired of battling blazes, he could delve into any number of careers with his degree in Psychology.

His love life was satisfactory, for the most part. Of course after tonight, the bar had been raised to an unbelievable height. Who would have thought his own subconscious could produce such unbelievable ecstasy? Or was there more to it than that?

For years, Eric had prided himself in being firmly grounded in reality. ‘What you see is what you get.’ He was a student of the ‘if you can’t see it, touch it, taste it, or smell it, then you can’t prove it by me’ mentality. In some ways, he had even rejected his father’s super spiritual mind-set. Eric only wanted to deal in the absolutes of life. However this dream he had, uh—enjoyed, last night—this dream was pushing the boundaries for him. He wanted his nighttime ecstasy to be more than a dream—he needed this to be more than a dream. In fact from now on, Eric knew he would look for this girl. His eyes would scan every crowd, every car he passed on the freeway, every woman he passed on the street. It might not make logical sense, but it was the way it was going to be. The tiny taste of paradise he had enjoyed last night in her arms only made his appetite ravenous for more.

Settling down hadn’t been high on his agenda; he made a practice of keeping it light. The woman he was currently seeing was absolutely gorgeous. She inspired more jealousy and envy among the men he worked with than Angelina Jolie would have, but even with that something was missing. Yea, and now what was missing had a face—and breasts, and legs and the hottest, sweetest little pussy in the universe. Shit!

Eric loved sex. He loved everything about sex, and like any typical, healthy twenty-eight year old male, he couldn’t get enough. Despite Jessica’s looks, she merely tolerated their physical relationship. Although this was beginning to get old, Jessica’s coldness wasn’t the root of his problem. Eric wanted more.

More. More. To be honest, he wanted laughter and companionship. He wanted passion, the kind of desire that one bout of good sex couldn’t satisfy. Eric wanted to be the center of someone’s universe; he wanted a woman to look at him as if he hung the moon. He wanted to be pursued, seduced, cherished and pleasured. “You don’t want much, do you?” Eric laughed at himself—here he was, standing in the nude, looking out at the velvety night, his cock getting hard for the nameless woman of his dreams. Bottom line—Mr. No Nonsense Eric McAllister was looking for a little magic in his life.

* * * *

Ever since the night of the Summer Solstice, when she had seen his face, Evangeline had been fantasizing about Angel. The days couldn’t go by fast enough. She longed for the sun to slip over the horizon, just so she could slip into his embrace. Nevertheless, as wonderful as the fantasies were, she ached for the real thing. If only he would appear! She had looked for him everywhere. As big as he was, he should be easy to spot. He wasn’t on campus, or at least, she had never seen him. What if he didn’t even live in Austin? What if he was back in New Orleans and her insistence on moving to Texas prevented their paths from crossing?

Evangeline was having a hard time remaining disciplined. Keeping her grades high had always been easy for her, but now she really had to work at it. Oh, the sculpting was easy—that was her joy—but the art history, the English literature, and the Applied Mathematics was more of a chore. Still she couldn’t disappoint Nanette, or the rest of the family. Their belief in her was the one thing that kept her days in order and her mind focused on her work. But the nights! The nights belonged to him.

“Hey, Evangeline!” Rachel Summers called from across the quad. “Are you ready for that test tomorrow?” Art history was proving to be a pain. Summer sessions were usually easier, but this professor was setting out to single-handedly prove that no one deserved an ‘A’. She waited for Rachel to catch up.