“Him, who?” Lila asked.
“You don’t know?” Aradia gasped as if it were the juici-est morsel of prime rib or, better yet, gossip. “A dark warlock, Tagrin Larmvill, was imprisoned for crimes against warlockian society. Not only did he commit mass murder, but he plotted to destroy our way of life.”
“Why am I just hearing this?” Ginger gasped.
“Because you don’t listen to the news? I don’t know. I thought everyone knew. Anyway, he was your average evil genius with short warlock syndrome. Tagrin wanted to make everyone pay for whatever. Not too sure on the details. He managed to kill quite a few of our kind before he was captured. He was sentenced to an eternity in Chaldonean Hall, but he found a way to escape.”
“My father knew him,” Lila said quietly.
“What was he like?” Middy couldn’t resist asking.
“Let’s not talk about it. We should get to the good stuff!”
Lila said, her heart-shaped face breaking into a large grin.
“Oh!” Aradia snapped her fingers and bared perfectly straight, white and, not to mention, sharp teeth in a wolfish grin.
“Finally,” Ginger sighed.
Jennifer Cinder, a quiet, yet vicious witch in her own right, spoke up. “That’s the only reason I came.”
With the snap of Aradia’s fingers, the room was trans-formed. No longer were they taking tea in a snowbound castle high in the Alps; instead, they were poolside. Each witch was positioned on a bamboo chaise longue with her feet tucked into some kind of divine pedi-wrap. The water seemed to glitter and Middy could smell the chlorine. Just beyond the pool was an ocean view and white sands. The sun was hot and the veritable army of cabana boys were even hotter.
Upon closer inspection, they weren’t warlocks, but gargoyles. They all had tanned skin that was like living marble.
Everything about them was hard, from their pectorals, to their abs, to their . . . They weren’t wearing anything but loincloths and each was bearing a silver platter.
Middy could only watch as they moved, their wings splayed behind them like avenging angels, their bodies seeming to flow through the space they occupied like water, every motion intoxicating.
Her mouth was suddenly dry and she reached for the icy, pink drink on the table next to her and gave a couple pulls on the straw. She noticed Ginger Butterbean sucking on her own straw like whatever was in that glass had come right from Merlin’s own cup. Or she was slobbing a knob.
This last, Middy realized, was unkind. She knew that she shouldn’t be so judgmental, but Goddess, she hated that witch. It wasn’t the sharp little comments or the— Middy interrupted her own thought as she realized that Ginger Butterbean was indeed slobbing a knob.
It was a cock straw.
The last three inches of the straw was shaped like a little plastic penis.
She squeaked as she pulled the thing out of her mouth and looked at it in abject horror. The other witches were all sucking happily on their frozen concoct— Drinks.
Drinks. No more cock.
Well, today anyway. Middy thought of Dred lying asleep in their bed.
Oh, that was bad.
Their
bed. No. It was just
a
bed that they’d both happened to sleep in at the same time, after he’d fucked her silly in the library. That didn’t make it their bed.
She was suddenly thankful for the Harpy Tea, as she’d come to call it. Otherwise, she’d have to look Dred in the face. As handsome as it was, Middy didn’t want to see it first thing in the morning. Not when it had last been somewhere in the vicinity of her nethers and had surfaced looking like a glazed donut.
Somehow, the bed was terrifying now that she knew what he was capable of while he was in it. Or out of it, for that matter.
Yes, this was definitely better.
Or not.
Middy quickly changed her mind as she looked down at the platter that one of the gargoyles was holding out for her approval.
“That one is from me, dear. It may surprise you to know, but I’m aware of my son’s”—she paused as she looked around the room, seemingly for the right word—“con-quests. Hopefully, this will keep him in line.” Aradia grinned.
Middy didn’t want to look at it, much less touch it, but there it was. It was a wicked-looking instrument made from the hide of a minotaur and it had nine spiked tails. It was a whip.
Aradia giggled like a girl still in Academy when she saw the look on Middy’s face. “Okay, look beneath it. Go on.”
Middy blushed as she picked up the thing, almost choking on her trepidation. Beneath it was a froth of lavender fabric that appeared to be a corset and matching knickers.
“I want grandchildren as soon as possible.” Aradia winked at her.
Middy decided in that moment she was going to seat Aradia at the table with all of her brothers at the wedding.
“Oh, that’s gorgeous! Try it on!” Lila demanded.
“Uh,” Middy stuttered.
Next thing Middy knew, she was lounging in just the lavender corset and knickers. Her bosoms were perched neatly under her chin and she balanced her frozen drink on top.
“Happy?” Middy said. “I don’t think I can get up.”
“No. I remember when mine used to do that.” Jennifer sighed.
“Why do you need to get up? We’ve got more presents and then cake. Just wait until you have the cake,” Ginger said.
“Presents? I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do. My son is only getting married once and we are going to do this up right.”
“Most marriages don’t make it past the first two years,” Middy offered.
“True. But most men aren’t Dred Shadowins. Plus, it’s written in the family charter. If he marries, he’s stuck until one of you dies or he’ll lose his magick.”
Middy coughed, sending her cock straw flying, but luckily it didn’t hit anyone in the eye. It did, however, land at the feet of the gargoyle who was serving her. He looked from her mouth to the straw, then back to her mouth again.
He reached down to the waist of his loincloth.
Every single witch present leaned forward, eyes as wide as saucers. The gargoyle flashed fang and tugged the band of the cloth just low enough so all of the witches could see the triumvirate of masculinity where his hips met corded muscle, drawing their eyes down to . . . where he produced another cock straw.
He winked at Middy and dropped it in her drink.
“That’s mine!” Ginger growled and snatched the straw out of Middy’s glass, sloshing her own into the frozen drink to replace it.
He flashed more fang. “Now that was naughty.”
The gargoyle hauled Ginger up into his arms and swat-ted her firmly on the backside before depositing her gently back onto her chaise longue.
“Don’t do that, Valerian. Or you’ll have a whole pack of naughty witches on your hands.” Aradia winked at him.
“I think I could handle it.”
Each witch was currently occupied with exactly what the handling of said things would entail. He slipped a card to Ginger and she tucked a wad of cash into his loincloth, but the bulge that was already there was still bigger.
The next gargoyle came and knelt before her. His platter was vibrating.
Sweet Circe’s Tampon! They’d given her a vibrator.
“Sorry about that,” the gargoyle said and whipped out a remote to turn the power off.
“It’s so you can hold your ground when you and the warlock fight. Because you will,” Ginger promised.
“Hold my ground? Why would that be a problem?”
She rolled her eyes in a most put-upon manner. “Dred Shadowins is a Master of Sex Magick. He can make you forget your name with his—” She paused and looked at Aradia. “He’s got skills, okay? To hold out, to use your snatch like the weapon it is, you’ll need some sort of fortification. This has the extra setting so you can experience that 3-D
Weekly Warlock
goodness with any warlock you choose. All you need is a bit of DNA. Hair, something from a wineglass, whatever.”
Middy was truly impressed. Too bad she’d still probably use it for Dred. She wondered if she could keep all of this stuff even if she didn’t marry him; she was starting to like the silky smooth fabric of the corset up against her skin and she definitely liked this last present.
“So, since you got my gift, I’m ready for cake,” Ginger demanded.
“Are you always this abrupt?” Middy asked.
“Is that a problem?”
“It takes some getting used to, that’s for sure,” Middy said, trying to be kind. She thought maybe that Ginger wasn’t as much of a super bitch as she’d first judged. She was just misunderstood.
“Ginger, you know very well there is no cake until after presents.”
“We could do cake now,” Middy interjected.
“Aradia, we all came for the cake,” Lila said.
“How right you are,” Ginger quipped.
“Midnight, this is a special cake that bakers only make available when there’s going to be a wedding. It’s like nothing you’ve ever had. It’s called
La Morte Chocolat
.”
“Sounds ominous,” Jennifer added. “But it’s to die for, really.”
Middy found a large piece being shoved into her mouth by rough gargoyle fingers. It tasted like chocolate. So far, it was nothing special.
Until the warmth started to spread from her tongue to her throat, to her limbs; it was like molten gold through her veins. The sensation may have started up around her lips, but it centered in her clit. Middy could feel great pulses shuddering through her body and she was pretty sure that she was going to stick to the bamboo like she had a suction cup between her thighs.
It wasn’t quite as intense as her orgasm with Dred, so it surprised her when she hit that peak and she had to grasp the side of the chaise as if she were holding on for dear life.
The body quakes ran from her fingertips to her muffin.
She loved it!
Middy opened her mouth for another bite and she was promptly indulged. Then she thought about Dred taking food from another witch’s fingers. Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to say something, but yet another bite was crammed unceremoniously into her chops.
Lila gave her a knowing look. “The cake is only for witches.”
“But what if some other witch . . .” Middy began around her mouthful of sin.
Ginger wrinkled her nose. “Merlin, Middy. Close your mouth when you chew.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Midnight, my son is marrying you. Do you know what that means? No matter what he does, he will always belong to you. So, who gives an orc’s nut what some other witch does?”
Middy nodded and finished chewing. She was being stupid. It wasn’t like they were actually committed to one another. She’d forgotten for just a moment that they were only playing. She looked at the tattoo on her wrist and sighed.
“You’re not having second thoughts are you?” Aradia gasped. “Quick, here.” She shoved another piece of cake in Middy’s mouth after dipping it in a bit of drizzle that she had nearby.
Middy noticed that no one else had the chocolate drizzle and she wondered what the hell her new witch-in-law was shoving into her mouth. It tasted fine, so it couldn’t be a potion, could it? She saw the intensity on the other woman’s face and had a feeling that not only was she screwed, but that
fucked
would be a better word for it.
The warmth kept spreading and she felt a euphoric joy at the thought of her warlock to be.
Yeah, she was fucked like Aloe Hugginfroth at a stag party.
“It helps with the wedding jitters, dear.”
“But I love him!” she blurted out.
Aradia took a hand and patted it soothingly. “I know. That’s why you’re marrying him. All Shadowins brides drink the potion, honey. Too much power at stake. If you’re marrying him for money, or any other reason than love, that will all pale in the light of what you’ll feel for him now. I promise, if you just give in to it, you’ll be incredibly happy.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Dark and Somehow Divine Comedy
Merlin frowned as he sauntered into the living room of the Big Boss’s house. He hadn’t bothered to knock, Merlin was the Bigger Boss. He could go where he liked.
Nimue said he had a god complex, but he’d told her that didn’t signify since he was God. At least, for this millennia.
It was kind of like being president. He’d been elected.
Although the process for the Big Boss was a little different. It was more about who could hold the power. Caspian got to be a dictator as the Devil, whereas Merlin had to count votes. Caspian had been recently promoted from Crown Prince of Hell to Big Boss when Hades had retired to a cattle ranch in Texas with his new wife. It was a big job for a guy who was new to fatherhood and husbandhood. So one would assume he’d be working rather than sitting on the couch and watching a movie with his wife and father-in-law.
Merlin was disappointed to see that no one had turned to watch his grand entrance. Maybe he should start smiting?
He cleared his throat to see if any of the heads would turn and sure enough, not one did.
“This is bullshit. Come on!” he demanded.
They were all watching some snarky teeny-bopper flick called
Heathers
. Merlin was all about the snark; it was his life’s blood most days. It just shouldn’t take precedence over his entrance. He was the Bigger Boss after all. Winona Ryder’s image turned to look at him from the screen and stuck its head out through the plasma television.
“That stunt you pulled in the caf ’ was pretty severe,” she said quoting her own lines. Obviously, someone was manipulating the image.
“You’re not funny, Grace.”
“It wasn’t me,” the witch said, fluttering her lashes at him.
“You then?” he directed his attention to the resident Crown Prince of Heaven who happened to be looking at his feet.
Raphael snickered. “Nope, but it’s sure funny.”
“You?” he demanded of the Big Boss. (Who was of a lesser rank than the Bigger Boss.)
“Come on, Merlin. You made the poor bastard have a conversation with his own cock. When I think of all the dark scary places that I put mine, I wouldn’t want to have a conversation with it,” Caspian offered.
“Are you trying to say something?” Grace narrowed her eyes at Caspian.