Witch and Werewolf: The Fire, The Pursuit, The Reckoning (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance) (7 page)

Deston did as she asked.  “Are you sick?”

She was not sick.  She launched herself into his lap and their mouths locked.  He was surprised at her urgency but did not hesitate to respond.  She felt him grow rigid and she tore at the boundaries which separated them.  She needed him.

The coupling was brief but ardent.  She screamed her climax and he followed.  The vehicle rocked with their zealous pleasure.  When they had resumed traveling, Alicia touched her belly.  Some of her mate’s seed had refused to be contained but the rest of that hot essence was deep inside her, pulsing through her body and blending with the core of the witch and, she suspected, creating something new. 

***

WITCH AND WEREWOLF

***

One of the perks of being a werewolf was possessing superior senses, even when in human form.  Deston could clearly hear the crash of the Atlantic Ocean which was over a mile away.  As Alicia rested on his chest he felt the deep intake of her breath and heard the happy sighs which escaped her lips.  His hand moved to the large swell of her abdomen and felt the stirring of the tiny occupant within.  A surge of love and fierce protectiveness quickened his pulse. 

Alicia craned her neck and smiled at him.  She reached a hand to his face and traced the rough bristle along his jaw.  “What are you thinking?” she asked. 

He smiled back.  “I was wondering about names again.”

“
Mmmm, yes names.”  Her long hair tickled his skin as she nuzzled his chest.  Deston was grateful she was enjoying a moment of ease.  The passage of six months and the two thousand miles of distance had done nothing to diminish her terror of the coven.   She did not often voice her fears but Deston was well enough tuned to the moods of his mate to recognize her distress.  On occasion her terrified voice would call out from the throes of a nightmare. 
Magda
.
 
He knew the witch’s name petrified her.  It was the name of the wizened coven leader, Alicia’s former master and mentor.

And murderess.

Deston knew it had to have been at Magda’s direction to abandon the truce between the witches of Phoenix and the werewolves of the outer desert.  It was her order to destroy his pack.  Not a day went by he did not think of the lost wolves.   He had never even known who had survived and who didn’t.  But at each full moon he bayed a mournful song for them and hoped somewhere some of them were answering. 

Deston
had not sensed another wolf since arriving in this small village off the eastern tongue of coastal Massachusetts.  A rare hurricane had traveled far north the year prior and construction work was plentiful as there was still much damage to be repaired.   The foremen asked few questions; all they required were strong men who labored hard and complained little.  He and Alicia rented a small bungalow at the edge of town.  Neglect and salty air had warped the structure considerably, but Alicia loved the place. 

The sunken floorboards of the narrow porch creaked as
Deston shifted his weight.  The sky was darkening and a full moon was rising, bringing the primeval urges of the wolf.  Living so close to town meant suppressing the wolf.  This close to the human populace it was a necessity. 

Alicia sat up and looked at him.  Her large dark eyes were solemn as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt.  She had read his restlessness and would give him the only thing she had to offer. 
Deston felt himself growing instantly hard as she rolled the shirt from her shoulders.  The bungalow faced an empty lot filled with overgrown weeds.  The homes on either side had been abandoned by their summer residents a few weeks earlier.  No lights shone on the street.  There was no one to see them. 

Deston
stared at the large breasts which spilled over Alicia’s swollen belly.  They have plumped even more with the pregnancy.  He sucked them in turn, playing his tongue over the hard nipples.   He stood and pushed his jeans down his legs.  His eyes never left her face and in the moonlight he caught a twitch of a smile on her lips as she noted the extent of his desire.  She rose and dropped her shirt.  Deston’s breath caught. His mate was unbearably beautiful.  It seemed impossible they had once been natural enemies.  

With the burden of her growing body, it was easiest for her to straddle him now.  A patch of grass extended from the porch to the sidewalk and
Deston lowered his body onto the ticklish carpet.  Even before she mounted him he could feel the heat from between her legs.  He could smell her unique scent and it drove him nearly wild.  Still, he let her take her time conquering his body.  She guided him to the moist slit which waited to be filled and he moaned beneath her.  He let her take the rhythm, holding back as she rocked urgently on top of him until he could stand it no longer.  His hands found her thighs and forced them wider as he came closer to climax.  Alicia shuddered and he knew from the spasms which surrounded his engorged manhood that she was in the spell of an intense orgasm.  He loved this about her; how she would take her pleasure without being coaxed.  And so in the next moment he took his.

After his seed had released and the tremors had left him, he opened his eyes.  That great silvery disc was rising to meet the night. 
Deston had always heard of the rumored man in the moon but when he looked he saw only the knowing face of a wolf. 

“I love you,” he told her.  He said it every day and knew hearing it still gave her joy.  But just then she seemed sad as she gazed absently past him.  She faced the direction of the beach and
Deston wondered if perhaps she too heard the fury of the tides.

“I love you too,” was all she said. 

Deston placed a hand on her naked belly and she covered his hand with hers.  “You should get some rest,” he told her.  In a few more months they would have the demands of the new life to deal with. 

Alicia shook her head.  Despite the possibility some errant passerby would witness their front yard nudity
,  she sank down next to Deston and put her head on his shoulder.  For a long time he lay quietly stroking her skin, wondering at her thoughts. 

***

Alicia liked to walk on the beach when Deston was away at work.  The crash of the surf and the squeals of the seagulls brought feeling of contentment and security born of a happy childhood next to the sea.  She scarcely recalled the people who populated that lost time.  There was only the ocean.  And then Magda. 

She paused and gazed out to the horizon.  A distant boat bobbed in the water.  She had walked near enough to the surging surf that the sand beneath her feet was packed with moisture.  The weather was cooling as autumn grew near and soon the water would be too unpleasantly cold to wade through. 

The deep caw of Magda’s voice grew louder in her head each day.  Her dreams always ended with the reach of Magda’s gnarled fingers, coming closer every night.  Just that morning she had awoken in a silent scream with the scratch of the old crone’s nails across her cheek.  Deston had been sleepily startled but she stroked him reassuringly and padded to the tiny bathroom.  The cold water felt good under her hands and she splashed her face.  As she bent to the basin, she caught a glimpse of her pale face in the small vanity mirror.  A long red score ran the length of her left cheek.  She blinked and it was gone.  But the brief vision quickened her heart for she knew what it meant.  They were coming closer. 

Alicia and
Deston had traveled farther than they had intended, high up the eastern seaboard in the hopes distance would shelter them from the coven’s grasp.  Alicia had spent these months quietly refining the witch’s power which had nearly slipped away from her.  At first she had been doubtful; the coven had always been the source and life of her magic.  She was surprised to find the solitude and peaceful communion with nature did more than any rote recitations in the grim Phoenix house. 

Alicia closed her eyes and breathed in as the salt spray washed across her face soothingly.  She raised her arms and felt the cold water quickly swirl around her feet in a gentle whirlpool.  She smiled, willing the water to hasten its circle.   In her youth she had mastered the fire, but had never known power over water.  It was rumored to be a rare craft reserved for only the most powerful and forbidding of witches.  The water lapped at her feet, eager to obey.  Alicia opened her eyes and gave a cry of surprise. 

The beach had been utterly empty a moment earlier yet the woman who stood several feet away looked as if she had been waiting a long time.  The woman smiled warmly.  “You have a talent.”

Alicia was instantly wary.  Instinct told her the woman was a witch.  Her dress was cut quite low and the gauzy fabric fluttered in the breeze.  All the witches of Alicia’s life were sternly austere and this creature was the picture of untroubled simplicity.  There was an air of unguarded otherness about her as she quietly waited.

If she’s a witch she’s unlike any witch I’ve ever known. 

She was unconcerned with Alicia’s penetrating stare, allowing her to patiently look her fill.  Her skin was flawlessly smooth and tan beneath the breezy gown which sifted in the breeze and illustrated a fine figure.  When she spoke her voice held a peculiar cultured lilt.  “So many never search beyond the rules of their covens.”  She raised an eyebrow at Alicia.  “You are of a coven, are you not?”

Alicia found her voice.  “I was.”

The lovely witch let her gaze fall to Alicia’s belly.  She laughed.  “Yes, I suppose they cast you out.  The modern adaptation doesn’t allow that.” Alicia’s hands covered her stomach instinctively as dark eyes regarded her with sympathy.  “Apologies, I am being rude.  I am called Ester.”

Alicia’s arms relaxed a little, but she still retained caution.  “My name is Alicia.  And you are correct.  No coven on earth would claim me.”  She heard the bitterness in her own words. 

Ester gazed at her with more intent interest.  “You are a better witch without them.”

Alicia was shocked.  Who was this witch and how could she say such things?  “I have betrayed the laws, forsaken my sisterhood.”

“And now they hunt you?  To make you pay for your sins?”

Alicia’s head dropped.  She coughed.  “Yes, I think so.”

“I know so.”  Ester’s hand reached for Alicia’s shoulder.  “They are nonsense.  These new witches have perverted the craft into some bizarre specter of religion.”  Her dark eyes searched Alicia.  “All that superstitious drivel about denying the needs of the flesh and anointing themselves saviors of mankind.”  She issued a merry chuckle.  “It’s all invention, dear girl.”

Alicia was silent.  Where had this odd witch come from?  Ester’s words ran contrary to those long years of training endured under the watch of Magda.  Yet she was filled with disquiet as she recalled the eager pull of the water and the burgeoning power within which responded when she desired it.  Ester watched her serenely.  There was something nearly otherworldly about her.  Her form shone with youth yet she exuded a wisdom which spoke of ancient knowledge.  Ester looked into her eyes and nodded as if she heard Alicia’s thoughts. 

“How long have you been here?”  Alicia whispered. 

Ester shrugged with nonchalance.  “Since the time which saw few men in these parts.  And I will be here when few men survive.”  She waved a slender tan hand.  “Ah, young one.  I will not frighten you with tales of my long and strange life.  You had best head home.”  Ester nodded at the horizon.  “A storm is coming.”  She turned on her bare heel and began to walk up the shoreline as Alicia stared mutely after her.  Ester had not traveled more than a dozen yards when she turned around sharply.  “And the father?” she called.

Alicia grew wary again.  “What about him?”

“He is not human?”

Alicia saw no point in lying.  “No,” she said.  “
he isn’t human.”

The answer seemed to please the strange witch and she smiled again.  Just then a sharp wind carried from and the water and whipped Alicia’s long hair around her face, obstructing her vision.  When the air stilled, Ester was nowhere to be seen. 

***

Deston
paused from hauling concrete to wipe the dripping sweat from his brow with his balled up t-shirt.  It was shit work, but consistent.  It was also easy to keep to himself as most of the rest of the crew spoke only Spanish and spent the hard hours working with quiet efficiency.  Deston flexed his forearms, trying to dispel the restlessness which always lingered below the skin.  As Alicia’s body swelled, so did the werewolf’s urge to assume his wild form as impulse commanded him to protect his mate and the child she carried.  He knew Alicia suffered too.  Her sleep grew increasingly troubled, though she refused to speak specifically of her visions.  Deston knew only that the vengeful witches were nearer than they had been since that desperate flight out of the desert. 

He took a long gulp from his water bottle and surveyed the rise and fall of the backs of the other laborers.  It seemed several eons had passed since that wild first coupling in the sweet desert rain.  Where he had first possessed the witch who became his mate.  He and Alicia had endured so many perils, yet more tender and passionate moments than he suspected many spent a lifetime acquiring.  The night he had rescued her from a violent fate had spelled his destiny and he was not sorry for a moment.  But the stakes were far higher now than when they fled the southwest, or even when they battled with the vicious pack who had discovered their sanctuary in the woods.  There was to be a child.  And
Deston knew his wolf form would be virtually useless against one powerful witch, let alone a whole coven.  Deston wondered if it would be best to take Alicia and leave this place too.   

And go where?

His thoughts were bitter.  It seemed the coven would never stop hunting. He shook his head, suddenly aware that he had been lingering for a long moment and had drawn the frowning attention of the foreman.  He nodded at the florid man and bent to retrieve another block of concrete as the wind began to pick up.  He could understand why Alicia loved the ocean.  The roar of the water and the fresh scent of the beach occupied the senses so completely it was possible to forget that a wider world existed.