Mysteria Nights

Finally his gaze snapped back up to her face. “Are you truly that cruel?”

Damn him! He’d zapped her anger with those words, making her feel like the wicked witch Evie had teased her about being. “No. I won’t go that far,” she whispered, as shamed as he’d been a moment ago.

“How far are you going to take it, then?”

She peered down at her bare feet—Ick, time for a pedicure—and kicked a rock with the tip of her toe. “I honestly don’t know.”

Falon clenched his jaw, cutting off any words that might try to escape his mouth. A mouth currently watering for a taste of the woman in front of him. Her curves were a thing of beauty. And with ribbons of moonlight seeping from the canopy of treetops, paying her flawless skin absolute tribute, with that flame red hair dancing like naughty nymphs around her shoulders and her lips glistening from the sting of her teeth, his beast wanted to tame her beauty.

Except, she now appeared defeated.

He hated seeing her like that almost as much as he hated being bound. Almost. Right now, however, he was too primed to feel anything more than desire. He wanted her to reach out, to touch him, kiss him. Suck him.

He was hard as a damn rock and needed to come.

“The night you came to my house in that trench coat,” he said.

Her attention suddenly locked on him and the fire blazing inside him. “The night you screwed that fairy hooker? That night?”

Surprisingly enough, her waspish tone delighted him. “Jealous?”

“As if!”

He hadn’t invited the fairy, whatever her name was, to his house. He’d met her in town earlier that day, had talked and laughed with her, but hadn’t meant to take it further. She was married, for God’s sake. Had Glory not been standing in front of him, he would have sent the fairy away. He liked sex, yes, but he’d never allowed a woman inside his home. They tended to linger, and he liked to do the deed and move on.

In fact, the moment Glory had taken off, he’d sent the pink-skinned fairy packing. Despite the fact that she had offered him apples—off of her body. He hadn’t even touched her. Had just stood at the window, peeking out the blinds like a criminal, hoping for and dreading a reappearance from Glory.

He’d been hard then, too, so maybe he should have slept with the fairy. But it had been flame red hair his hands had wanted to tangle in, hazel eyes he’d wanted to stare into, and a soft, plush body he’d wanted to penetrate.

No one else would have done.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to have sex these past few months. He felt guilty for how he’d hurt Glory, so his body would no longer allow him to respond to other women. Maybe he needed to sleep with her once —or twice—and build up her self-esteem. She’d feel better about herself, he’d stop feeling guilty for the way he’d treated her, and they could both go on with their lives.

Are you kidding? Are you so hard up you’ve got to bed a witch? Think of the consequences, idiot! She’s nuts now, so how much worse will she be after you’ve slept with her? What if she didn’t want things to end after the sex was over? What if she tried to punish him again?

“Uh, hello?” she said, exasperated.

“What?” he asked more harshly than he’d intended.

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing the material of her gown tight over her breasts. And nipples. Which were still hard. She was killing him. He could make out the edge of the pen between her fingers, but he couldn’t make himself care.

“You mentioned the incident,” she said. “Well, what about it?”

He’d had a point, hadn’t he? Oh, yeah. “You were aroused when you came to me.”

A huffy gasp left her. “No, I was not! I was going to give you a chance to arouse me. That’s all.”

“Please. You flashed me, and baby, you were already glistening.”

Her cheeks heated to the same shade as her hair, making her all the lovelier. “You are very close to losing your favorite appendage.” Scowling, peering at him hotly, she jerked the hand holding the pen forward and poised it just below his nose.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushed out. Damn her and her powers! He lost his erection as every reason he hated witches flashed through his mind. “I’m sorry.” But not as sorry as you’ll soon be. “You were cold as ice that night.” You nearly singed me. “You weren’t turned on at all.” The scent of your desire is still imprinted on my brain.

Slowly, she lowered her arm, expression mollified.

The limbs binding him began to loosen their grip, and he blinked in surprise. Was it possible? With a twist of his wrist, he was free. That easy, that simple, as if he’d never been bound. He had to hold on to the limbs to keep them upright. He blinked again, doing his best to hide his elation.

Glory was going to pay. Oh, was she going to pay. First, he had to claim that fucking pen!

“Com’ere,” he said as gently as he was able. “Please. I want to tell you a secret.”

She shook her head, red curls flinging in every direction. “What kind of secret?” Suspicion danced in her eyes.

He tried to look troubled.

“Tell me like this. No one can hear us.”

“I don’t want to say it aloud. It’s . . . embarrassing.”

Several moments ticked by, and she remained in place. Then she sighed and stalked to him, hands fisted on her hips. She was so sure of her prowess—and his weakness. She’d learn . . .

“What?” she said.

Her feminine fragrance wafted to his nostrils, the same aroma she’d emitted that night on his porch. In the cell. She still desired him. He took a moment to simply enjoy. Savor. Crickets chirped a lazy song, and locusts rattled an accompanying, faster rhythm. In the distance, a dog barked. Around them, pink flower petals floated through the air, warm and sweet, each laced with a strong aphrodisiac. He’d heard that Glory had cast a love spell over the entire town, and since that day the petals had fallen from the sky like summer snow.

“What?” she demanded again.

“This.” He grinned, and snapped his arms closed around her waist.

She yelped.

“Got ya,” he said.

Four

Shock coursed through Glory, and it was mixed with an insidious thread of desire. Falon had her locked against his hard, hot body so tightly she could feel the frantic beat of his heart. Or maybe that was her heartbeat. Her breasts were mashed into his chest, her nipples like hard little points, and every time she breathed, she sucked in the scent of strength and soap and dark spice.

“Nothing to say?” Falon asked smugly.

“Let me go. Now.” Trying not to panic, she attempted to lift her arms, attempted to flatten her palms against his chest and push him away from her, but her arms were glued to her sides.

“None of that,” he said, latching onto her wrists with one hand and shoving them behind her. With his free hand, he grabbed the stick. Clearly, he assumed it was the pen, because his grin widened.

“Mine now,” he said, and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

Do not smile. “Give it back.”

“Make me.”

Not knowing how to respond, she ran her tongue over her teeth.

His gaze followed the movement, his pupils dilating.

“What are you going to do with me?” she demanded. Or rather, meant to demand. Her voice was breathless.