Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1) (20 page)

“What about a lioness?” she asked. “That way we could be like Simba and Nala from
The Lion King
.”

Callum walked on, saying nothing, until they stepped into a secluded clearing—a pastoral spot with knee-high grass and wildflowers protected by a circle of ash and oak. He threw a backward glance at her as he strode to the center and unbuckled his belt.

Desire hooked her low and deep as the tartan slid to the ground. Her gaze roamed over his magnificent physique with a mixture of lust and curiosity. Stepping up to him, she set her hands on his chest, and lifted her face for a kiss. He gave her one—a disappointingly quick peck—before stepping back, scooping up the plaide, and spreading it out across the meadow like a picnic blanket.

He then got down on it and squinted up at her. “Take off your clothes and sit down.”

With some hesitation, she peeled off her clothing and took a seat on the blanket, squirming a bit to find a position that didn’t give him a full-on beaver shot.

“Now what?”

“Close your eyes and picture yourself as a lioness.”

“That’s it? I just imagine myself as an animal and poof, I’m transformed?”

He laughed. “Not quite. I’m going to teach you the fee-faw, a shapeshifting spell that’s been around as long as magic itself. “The idea is to invoke the magic cloak of invisibility belonging to Manannan mac Lir, the Celtic god of the sea, who had the power to control the mists and fog. The incantation asks for the loan of his cloak, to transform the object of the spell. In this case, ourselves. So, if you wish to be a lioness, you must visualize yourself as such while I recite the incantation.”

Nodding her understanding, she shut her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could on the physical attributes of a female lion. Golden pelt, topaz eyes, pointed ears, huge paws, tufted tail, and so on. As she did this, her senses began to sharpen. She became more attuned and connected to her surroundings. Her body began to tense and twitch, her emotions to surge, swirl, and spike. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow. Then, she heard him say in a kind of sing-song chant,

“Mighty Manannan of the Sea,

For the loan of your cloak, we summon thee.

Into a lion my lady shall go

Brave in the face of every foe

And she shall go in Lord Morfryn’s name

Fee-faw, fee-faw, fee-faw.”

“Who’s Lord Morfryn?”

“Oberon’s twin brother, who rules the Unseelie half of the Thitherworld.”

“Is he the dark lord to whom you were going to be tithed?”

“Aye. The very one. Now stop asking questions and concentrate.”

Thrumming with anxious anticipation, she once again called from her memory the image of a lioness. As she focused upon the picture, the inside of her eyelids began to glow with soft golden light. The illumination filled her brain, obscuring the vivid image she’d been holding of the lioness. Her breathing deepened, her emotions soared, and her mind began to reel.

She felt a renewed sense of vigor. Her body began to quake, her bones to stretch and bend, her muscles to twist and pull, her head and features to reshape as if clay under a sculptor’s hand. When things stilled, she opened her eyes, startling when they fell on Callum. He wasn’t her golden haired Scot any longer; he was a huge African lion with a head covered in shaggy mane, but with the same sweet expression in his eyes she’d come to adore.

She looked down at herself, marveling at the transformation.

“Can we still talk?” She laughed. “Oh, I guess I just answered my own question.”

“Come on,” he said with a noble toss of his head. “And stop talking before you scare off every deer within earshot. Not that they won’t catch our scent soon enough.”

“But I have questions,” she protested, following him toward the tree line.

At the edge of the forest, he stopped and waited for her, rubbing against her as she drew alongside. Pleased by his show of affection, she started to purr, startling herself.

Lowering her voice, she asked, “Can we do it like this?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Have sex.”

He just looked at her. “That’s your question?”

“One of them.”

Her whiskers tingled with embarrassment. She would have blushed had it been possible.

His eyes softened and she could have sworn she detected a smile on his mouth. “I never have, since there aren’t a lot of estrus lionesses prowling about the Highlands. But I imagine we could. Though, you should know a few things about lion mating habits before you get too enamored of the idea.”

She arched a fuzzy eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Such as that a lion’s penis, like all cats, has spines that point backward; that the average male lion ejaculates within seconds of penetration; and that, while he’s pulling out, the barbs on his cock rake the walls of his mate’s vagina to stimulate ovulation.”

“Oh.” She swallowed as the blood drained from her head. “And speaking of ovulation, will my pills still work?”

“I don’t know.” His lips curled to reveal enormous fangs. “Anything else?”

She nodded. “How do we turn back into ourselves?”

He winked on big golden eye. “By invoking the counter spell, of course.”

* * * *

Callum loped through the trees with catlike agility, his gut tight with worry. Would teaching Vanessa to shift and hunt be enough? If she stuck to her reckless plan to return to Louisiana, she’d have to do for herself, probably in the swamps—a prospect he didn’t like in the least. Any number of tragedies could befall her, not the least of which was losing control of her appetites. The beast within could take over when improperly managed.

In hindsight, he probably should have let her die of her injuries from the fall. Aye, he cared for her—more than he liked to admit—but that didn’t give him the right to unleash her on the population of New Orleans. After Hurricane Katrina, the last thing they needed was Vanessa Meadows blowing through.

The faint thunder of cloven hooves brought him back to the forest. Though he couldn’t yet see the herd, he could detect their musk on the breeze. “Wait here,” he told Vanessa, keeping his voice low.

He tracked the scent through the dense grove of pine, spruce, and sycamore until he sighted antlers. Crouching in the undergrowth, he waited, muscles tight and focus fixed. When the herd bolted, his gaze chased the fleeing deer, watching for laggards and gauging the right moment to pursue. When it came, he took off and, within seconds, pinned a doe beneath his weight.

“Come on.”

Vanessa was beside him the next instant. “Oh, my God, did you have to take a doe? What if she has babies?”

“By the might of Mars,” he ground out, shaking his mane, “it’s not a fucking supermarket. You take what you can get. Now, bite down hard, near the throat, and start swallowing as soon as the blood pulses into your mouth. And don’t mind the pelt. You’ll get used to it in time.”

She screwed up her face in a gesture that was all too human. “Do we have to kill the poor thing? She’s so beautiful.”

“Aye. We have to kill the animals we feed upon.”

She turned on him with questioning blue eyes. “Why?”

“I only know what I was told,” he said impatiently. If she didn’t hurry, the doe would die in vain and he’d have to kill another.

“This is so awful,” she moaned. “How often do we have to do this?”

“Once a week or so…provided we’ve got each other to supplement. Every couple of days if there’s no other source.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “But believe me, it’s by far the lesser of available evils.”

* * * *

While the deer’s coat was thick, coarse, and tasted vile, Vanessa found the blood surprisingly satisfying. When she’d had enough, she backed off and let Callum take over. He drank his fill and released the doe seconds before the life left the animal’s lovely dark eyes.

“That ought to hold us for now,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to take one down yourself.”

“I can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.

The sun was starting to set by the time they reached the clearing where they’d left their clothes. He spoke the counter spell, and, after they’d dressed, tossed the car keys to her.

“Bring it around while I go retrieve the carcass. We’ll leave it at the kirk in Wick with an anonymous note telling the priest, as usual, to distribute the meat and hide among the parish poor.”

Chapter 12

The day Callum dreaded had arrived at last. Vanessa was leaving in a few hours and, as much as he wished it otherwise, he’d come up with no alternative to letting her go. The last few days had been glorious, albeit in a tortuous, living-on-borrowed-time kind of way.

They’d spent yesterday on a tour of Orkney. He thought she ought to see the archipelago before she went and, luckily, the weather supported his plan. On the ferry over, orcas, seals, and dolphins put in appearances, giving her thrills he found delightfully contagious. On the trip back, they were treated to a spectacular sunset while snogging at the deck rail. Throughout the day, he strove to savor every moment and not dwell on how soon they’d be saying their good-byes.

Tried, but failed miserably.

In another few minutes, they’d be setting off for the airport. Glasgow, instead of the nearer one in Wick, to buy him a few extra hours to try and change her mind.

When she appeared on the castle’s front portico with her suitcases, he took a long, pining look at her, drinking in every detail of her flawless face and figure. She had on the same skirt and boots she’d worn that first day he took her sightseeing. God, but she looked radiant in the pale light of the breaking dawn. She was twice as beautiful as when she was mortal, if such a thing were possible.

“Have you got everything?” he called to her.

“I think so.”

With a determined set to her features, she descended the portico steps. He hated that she was leaving and the thought of doing without her, but he detested even more the idea of her going so far away on her own when she was still a fledgling faery. He’d taught her the fundamentals of shifting and hunting, but she’d still need to find willing donors to satisfy her unnatural appetites.

The mere idea of her bedding other men wrapped barbed wire around his heart. But what more could he do? Ordering her about was not the way to go, he’d learned that much in their brief time together. She was a free-spirited, freedom-loving Aquarian. One faint whiff of his innate possessiveness and she’d fly away forever.

Besides, he’d meant what he said about butterflies. He liked his elusive, erratic, endearing swallowtail just as she was. He just hoped she didn’t go ballistic when he slept with other women. She’d said she understood, of course, but Aquarians could be mercurial creatures.

“So, when should I plan on visiting?” While he’d asked the question a thousand times already, he’d yet to get a straight answer.

“I told you,” she returned with a scowl. “When I’m ready.”

Swallowing his frustration, he dashed across the driveway, relieved her of her suitcase, and carried it to the Range Rover. After stowing the cases in the rear compartment, he hurried around, and opened the passenger door for her. Circling back to the driver’s side, he climbed in behind the wheel, buckled up, and fired up the engine.

As he pulled onto the main road, he took a breath and turned the car toward Thurso. To save time, he was cutting across the peninsula on the A-9 rather than taking the coastal route through Wick. He tuned the radio to a classical station before throwing a glance toward Vanessa, who was staring out the windscreen with a glazed expression.

Gathering his nerve, he tried again to pin her down. “You do want me to visit, don’t you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He compressed his lips, still dissatisfied. “It’ll cost a bloody fortune if I wait till the last minute to book a flight.”

She heaved a sigh, making him feel like an errant child. “Just give me a little time to smooth things over with Mr. Armstrong. That’s all I ask.”

“What are you going to tell him about us?”

“I wasn’t planning to tell him anything.” She shot him a puzzled look. “My personal life is none of his business.”

“I agree…but that’s not what I meant.”

“Right,” she said, catching on. “The answer’s still the same.”

“What if he figures it out?”

“I’ll lie.”

“You’re a terrible liar…and we’ll likely run into each other when I visit.”

She chewed her lip, but said nothing. He waited, blinking at her in time with the pounding in his temples.

Finally, she said in a choked voice, “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“It will if you stay in Scotland.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a visa.”

“You won’t need one if we get married.”

Bloody hell. Did I just propose to her?