The Sorceress (41 page)

Again, Jen saw no humor. She kept a straight face.

Twyla's admission that she'd given birth to Rome during her teens had created hot tabloid fodder. Rome's uncanny resemblance to his glamorous mother had stirred public fascination.

With his face splashed alongside Twyla's on magazine covers throughout the world, Rome had become a celebrity by association. Twyla's sold-out European tour would be filmed as a
documentary featuring concert performances as well as poignant moments between mother and son.

Jen frowned, dreading the additional female attention the documentary would cause.

“What's that frown about?”

Jen shrugged.

“Seriously, Jen. I'm going to be old news in a minute and everything will get back to normal. But right now, Twyla and I need to spend some time together. You know—get to know each other. That's the only reason I'm joining her on her Return to Love tour. It's why I agreed to let cameras follow us for that documentary.”

“But you're gonna be in Europe…a whole continent away. And women are going to be camped out outside your hotel room. Not to mention the ones who'll be in your company every day. Background singers, makeup artists, Twyla's dancers…” Choked up, Jen looked away.

He shook his head. “Yeah, the media coverage is out of control. I mean…I want my mother in my life, but I'm not enjoying the fame.”

“I don't want to get hurt, Rome. I can't help worrying that now that Twyla has acknowledged you…well…you might be out of my league.”

He gawked at her like she was out of her mind. “Look, I had no idea that my going away was causing you this kind of pain.”

“I was trying to keep it to myself.” Jen's voice sounded squeaky and weak, making her sound totally irritated with herself.

“You want me to cancel?” he asked bluntly. “You know I will.” His tone was dead serious.

Jen was quiet, her eyes downcast. She didn't know what to say.

“So what's it gonna be, Jen? You want me to cancel and stay
here with you? Will that make you feel secure?” He stared her down, demanding her final answer.

Weighing the gravity of his proposal, Jen's mind went into hyper-drive. If she fed into her insecurities and asked him to stay, he'd probably grow to resent her. Now was the time for Jen to have some faith. Faith in love. And faith in the unseen.

If the Goddess Realm truly exists, and if the goddess prophecy was true, then she and Rome were destined to be husband and wife. And parents of a son.

She'd never told him about Tara and Zeta. She wasn't sure if she ever would.

Taking a leap of faith, Jen smiled at him and said, “I…uh… I'm just being silly. Separation anxiety, I guess. Don't worry. I'll be all right.”

“You sure?”

Changing her tone from meek to confident, she said, “I'm positive. I want you to bond with your mother.” She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. “End of August, I'm going to be right here.” She patted the bed. “Right now, I'm ready to pick up where we left off.” Jen spread her legs invitingly.

Instantly ready for round two, Rome's lips traveled to her neck, nipping the spot that drove her wild.

But before Jen succumbed to passion, she pulled back. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He spoke with rasping breath.

“Don't wear that cologne while you're away.”

Baffled, Rome frowned. “Why not?”

“You're only allowed to wear Insatiable when you're with me.”

“Is that right?” Rome's lips spread into the boyish smile that made Jen's heart do flips.

She kissed his neck, and then inhaled his scent. “Um,” she
uttered. Enjoying the blend of his natural scent mixed with the heady fragrance, she sniffed him from his neck down to his chest. “You smell delicious.” Jen licked her lips. “Good enough to eat.”

Proving her point, she slid off the bed and eased down to her knees.

Releasing a groan of pleasure, Rome inched to the edge of the bed. Jen moved inside the space between his legs. She held his dick in her hand admiringly, and then inhaled his pungent masculine aroma deeply.

She brought the smooth head of his dick close to her lips and kissed it gently. Flicking out her tongue, she administered love licks. Pausing, she looked up at him. “See what you do to me? I can't help myself.”

“Don't try.” Aroused, Rome kept his words to a minimum.

“I won't, then.” She sucked his hard flesh between her lips, causing him to let out a growl that was rough and primal. Enraptured, his eyes were at half mast.

Drawing in the full length of his bulging shaft, Jen relaxed her throat, permitting his length to travel further than it ever had.

Rome's eyes opened. Awestruck, he watched as Jen deep-throated him for the very first time. Her mouth was moist and hot as she slowly…methodically…and deliberately gave him the ultimate blowjob—the best oral sexing she'd ever given him.

“So good,” he moaned.

She was giving him the kind of tender tonguing he'd never get from a meaningless encounter on the road.

“Oh, baby,” he shouted, his body beginning to convulse from the loving sucking she was putting on him.

Jen rose from the floor and straddled her man. She rode him hard and fast, meeting his desperate thrusts.

He tensed and groaned.

She collapsed upon him.

He held her tight, pressing her sweaty breasts against his chest.

Roaring a primal cry, he released his seed.

Suddenly, sparkling light spilled into the darkened bedroom; trumpets blared.

“Rome!”

“Yeah, baby?” he said dreamily.

“The bright light, don't you see it. Can't you hear the music?”

“Stop playing. I know it was good, but you don't have to try to blow up my ego like that.”

The light began to dim; the sound of music faded. Jen heard soft wings fluttering in the distance.

Tara and Zeta had stopped by!

Filled with a sense of peace and well-being, Jen knew with certainty that Rome would return.

She touched her stomach and smiled.

The goddess prophecy was fulfilled.

If you're ever in the Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia, you don't have to worry about spotting an apparition running aimlessly across a bridge.

When writing the scene where Jen first encounters Eris, I envisioned Jen jogging along Kelly Drive, looking up, and seeing Eris pacing on Falls Bridge, which is located in East Falls.

On foot, there's quite a distance between Chestnut Hill and East Falls. Being that Jen didn't have access to a car, and was only out for a short run, I had to keep her in Chestnut Hill.

Taking creative license, I constructed a fictitious bridge, named it Piper's Bridge, and placed it in Chestnut Hill.

I hope you enjoyed
The Sorceress,
the continuation of my first paranormal novel,
The Enchantress.

Allison Hobbs is the national bestselling author of eleven novels and novellas:
Pure Paradise, Disciplined, One Taste, Big Juicy Lips, The Climax, A Bona Fide Gold Digger, The Enchantress, Double Dippin', Dangerously in Love, Insatiable
and
Pandora's Box.
She is one of the contributing writers of Cinemax's
Zane's Sex Chronicles.

Her novel
The Climax
was nominated for the 2008 African American Literary Awards Show.

Allison received a bachelor of science degree from Temple University. She resides in Philadelphia, PA where she's working on her next novel.

Visit the author at:
www.allisonhobbs.com
,
www.blackplanet.com/allisonhobbs
or
www.myspace.com/allisonhobbs

L
EARN ALL ABOUT
E
RIS AND THE
S
TOVALLS
IN THIS EXCERPT FROM

B
Y
ALLISON HOBBS

A
VAILABLE FROM
S
TREBOR
B
OOKS

R
OANOKE
, V
IRGINIA
1806

The whispered grumblings in the slave quarters on the Stovall Plantation were usually about Eris.

“Now, a gal like dat—black as tar—ain't got no business workin' in de big house,” the old man named Make-Do complained.

“You sho' 'nuff right, Make-Do. In all my years, ah ain't nevah seen nothin' like it. Dark-skinded gal wit dem big ol' clumsy feets tendin' to Missus and givin out orders to de cook and e'rebody else workin' in de big house,” agreed Peahead. “She sho' got Massuh fooled.”

“Hmph! Don't nobody seem to know where she come from, but wherevah dat was, ah bet she wasn't nothin' but a field hand jes' like us,” groused Peahead's wife, Florette.

Make-Do scratched his head. “If ah 'members co'reckly, Eris
showed up here in de middle of de night. She told Massuh she been on de run from some evil slave owner way down in 'Bama somewhere.”

“You mean to tell me dat gal ran all de way from 'Bama to Virginy?” Florette scrunched up her lips and shook her head. “Don't make no kinda sense dem slave catchers nevah got ahold'a her 'long de way.”

“Massuh got such a good heart; took her in promisin' to hide her and all. She showed up buck naked—ain't had nothin but a box filled up with potions and such. Told Massuh she was good at nursin' folk. Dat why he keep her up in de big house,” explained Peahead.

“Well, it don't look like her nursin's worth mucha nothin'. Missus be gittin' sicker by de day,” said a young woman by the name of Willa. “And why somebody blacker den soot talkin' like de white folk? And why she got dem strange-lookin' blue eyes?” There was a collective confused shaking of heads.

“Bet y'all don't know…” Willa paused, waiting to get the group's undivided attention. “Eris done started wearin' all the Missus's clothes.” Willa's bottom lip jutted out in disapproval.

“Wearin Missus's clothes!” Peahead and Florette chorused incredulously.

“Sho' 'nuff is.” Make-Do confirmed with a nod. “Eris done give all her old frocks to Molly and Tookie.” Make-Do had been on the Stovall Plantation long before the current master was born. Now, too old to work the fields, Make-Do kept an eye on the children and performed easy tasks that didn't require agility or a strong back .

“I done told dem girls they ain't gon' have nothin' but bad luck from wearin' dat evil woman's clothes,” Make-Do continued.

“Uh-huh. I tried to warn 'em, too. Dey so happy to have spare
frocks, dey won't even listen. But dey gon' see. Mark my words, dey sho' 'nuff gon' see,” Willa said, staring off into space and shaking her head as if a future fraught with unparalleled horrors was being revealed.

“Lawd, look ovah dere.” Peahead pointed toward the big house. All heads turned. In the distance, illuminated by moonlight, Eris was kneeling on the ground.

“What she up to now?” Florette inquired in a hushed tone.

Peahead stood up and squinted. “Look like she tendin' to dat garden a-hern.”

“At night!” they all exclaimed loudly, then looked around anxiously, hoping Eris didn't catch them spying on her. But Eris was intently involved with gathering the herbs and roots she needed for the mistress's remedy.

“You know dat woman's stranger than a two-headed chicken,” Peahead whispered nervously. “Wouldn't surprise me a bit if she diggin' a hole so's to holla down dere and talk to Satan hisself.” Peahead gave a shudder. “Come on, Florette. We goin' inside. Ah don't wanna be nowhere near Eris after daylight. And 'specially not with dat full moon burnin' while she dealin' wit' de devil,” he said ominously. Peahead and Florette gathered themselves to go inside their cabin, careful not to look in Eris's direction.

Willa latched onto Make-Do's arm and helped him to stand upright. After he was safely on his feet, Willa respectfully handed the old man his walking stick. She hurried to her cabin while old Make-Do shuffled on down the dusty path to his own shanty.

Edith Stovall, the mistress of the plantation, was so consumed with fever she had no idea that her fine garments had been relegated
to adorning a lowly slave. Had she known, she would have diplomatically excused her husband's lack of judgment, but such impudence by a slave girl would have warranted a visit to the whipping post. Nine and thirty. That's how many lashes the ill-mannered, uppity heifer would have incurred if the mistress of the house had her strength and wits about her.

The mistress was stricken with a serious illness and according to her husband, Arthur, she was delirious. Talking out of her head—accusing him of unspeakable acts since she'd been banished from his bed. Having the fever and carrying what appeared to be a deadly and contagious disease, of course she had had to be exiled from the marital bedroom. She was being quarantined until she got better or—God forbid—she died.