Witch Tease Page 8

  Lizzie’s just a client. Quit getting so attached.

  His frown deepened as he realized he must maintain a healthy emotional distance. Under no circumstances could he fall victim to his sexual appetite.

  In his mind, he compared Lizzie to a beautiful shining trinket in a store that he could only admire, but was forbidden to touch. He must remain firmly in control, no matter what temptations the bonny witch offered.

  ***

  Shrieks and howls pierced humid night air blanketing the forest. Both Lizzie and Kincaid looked down at the thick, dark trees spreading like a blanket beneath them.

  “The banshees are following,” Vera squeaked, and a low rumble emitted from her engine.

  “Hellfire and brimstone,” Lizzie swore. Her heart hammered so hard she feared it might burst from her chest. A freezing chill swept through her insides, and goose bumps prickled her skin.

  “Vera, swerve toward the coast and try to stay hidden in the clouds,” Kincaid told her, urgency filling his voice.

  “There’s a sheer drop off in that direction,” Lizzie warned. “Those cliffs are high above the ocean.”

  “I know. That’s where my vessel is.”

  “How can you see through the haze?”

  “My gaze peels through dimensional veils.”

  “Like Superman,” Lizzie said. “By the way, can you still read my mind?”

  “The bisporus powder leaves lingering aftereffects. If I choose to, I’ll be able to perceive your thoughts and emotions for months.”

  “Well, don’t.” Warmth spread through her insides and fired in her cheeks. Stinking bat’s breath! If he probed enough, he’d find the secret weakness she still had for him.

  “Dinna worry, lass. I’m not such a brute that I would invade your privacy.”

  The Kincaid she’d known before had been proud and arrogant. She had to admit she liked this stronger, more considerate side.

  She felt calmer than before about placing the lives of her coven in his hands. She would do all she could to help him. Meanwhile, she needed to keep her libido under control.

  The banshee screams increased in pitch. She and Kincaid looked down. Several horrifying gray crones in swirling rags passed through the trees and thick undergrowth beneath them.

  “Damn it,” Kincaid growled.

  They were close—too close. Lizzie began to mutter a spell, hoping to ward them off.

  “Peace with the gods and nature, send these banshees packing. Defluo vanitare.”

  Though she willed the enchantment to protect them from the banshees, it seemed to die the second it issued from her lips. An unusual fizzling sound filled the air, and her mouth began to burn as though she’d bitten into a chili pepper. Agonized, she tried to wipe the sensation away with the back of her hand.

  A few seconds later the banshees caught up to them, sharpened branches gripped in their skeletal fingers. Vera did her best to fly past them, but one of them managed to get close enough to thrust a stick in her front grill. Choking, chugging noises burst from the vacuum’s engine. Then one of the hags soared past and pierced Vera’s bulging bag. Air began to leak with a p-s-s-s-t sound.

  “Well rattle my chrome and squeeze my handle, I’ve been hit,” Vera squealed. “Hang on kiddies, we’re going down…”

  Lizzie tensed as the vacuum’s altitude gradually decreased. Vera lowered through the strata, skimming across treetops. Next, shrubbery scuffed their boots.

  “We’re in luck, sports fans,” Vera said. “See that clearing up ahead?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie and Kincaid said in unison.

  “That’s my target.”

  Good on her word, the vacuum glided down into a meadow and came to an abrupt stop. Lizzie and Kincaid tumbled off and fell in the tall grass and weeds. Vera thumped to the ground, wheezing.

  Rubbing her sore backside, Lizzie pushed to her feet. A sharp throb pierced her ankle and she winced. Kincaid was already on his feet and he strode quickly toward her.

  “Are you all right, lass?”

  She nodded and limped over to examine the fearless vacuum, now in a pile of broken pieces. Kincaid followed close behind her.

  “Vera, you need to get up. We’ve got to get going before the banshees arrive.”

  “I’m done for, kid. Save yourselves.” She coughed. “Leave me here. I’ll just slow you down.”

  “With a little repair work, you’ll be as good as new.” Lizzie murmured a spell that changed the vacuum into a green belt, which she secured around her waist.

  Banshee cries burst through the dark fringe of forest that ringed the area.

  “Quick, lass, climb on my shoulders.”

  She gave him a strange look.

  “There’s no time to explain,” he said gruffly as he knelt down. “Just do as I say.”

  Wondering what he had in mind, she hiked her dress around her hips and straddled his shoulders. He rose up and began to run with amazing swiftness, especially considering he carried her weight. Then something strange happened. The hair on Kincaid’s head grew longer and thicker. His limbs elongated, causing his clothes to split off and drop into the bushes. Only his cape remained, and that was because she now sat on it. When he lifted his shaggy head, Lizzie noticed his face had been replaced with a long snout.

  With a slight flare of alarm, then astonishment, she realized that instead of being held on a man’s shoulders, she now rode a very, very large wolf with chestnut-colored hair. When Kincaid released a long howl that echoed through the shadowy woodland, her heart squeezed.

  Kincaid had left her for a good reason all those years ago. Witches were forbidden to consort with other paranormal creatures, so he’d done her a favor by making her hate him.

  So many emotions poured through her she could barely make sense of them. Adrenaline rushed through her blood and her mind became a jumble of thoughts as Kincaid raced to the edge of a cliff. He stopped running and hunkered close to the ground.

  In her mind, Lizzie heard him say, “Crawl off, lass.”

  Still stunned by all that had transpired, she did as he requested. Within seconds, the wolf’s limbs and hairy body began to change shape. Crunching, grinding noises made Lizzie wince.

  Kincaid growled, then moaned as he changed back into his human shape. Since he’d lost his clothes again, he stood naked in the moonlight, except for the rumpled and torn cape still tied around his neck.

  Lizzie tried not to stare at his magnificent male form, but she found it impossible not to. A matting of chest hairs stretched across his chest and abdomen, leading down to the thick curls above his penis. Her mouth watered at the arousing sight.

  With a flood of warmth spreading in her lower abdomen, she recalled the two of them making love. She couldn’t prevent the memory of the love they had shared and how it felt to be wrapped in his protective arms. Kincaid had a way of setting her afire with an ache only he could quell. Even now, she felt the same all-consuming sensation filter through her.

  As her cheeks burned, she recalled the exhilaration of being with him, and the subsequent pinnacle of joy that always highlighted their couplings. She’d wanted him so badly then, and did so now.

  “Lizzie, did you hear what I said?”

  She shook her head to clear it, and with difficulty, pulled her gaze away from his magnificent body. Pushing aside her soul-stirring recollections, she met his stern gaze. The rush of blood in her ears subsided and she realized he’d been talking to her while she’d ogled his nakedness.

  “We have to jump.” He glanced over his shoulder, his expression lined with concern. “The banshees are close.”

  His words finally made sense in her brain. She disliked the idea of flinging herself over the cliff edge. Glancing over the rocky precipice, she noted the relentless waves crashing against large, jagged boulders.

  “We’ll be killed.”

  Swearing under his breath, Kincaid grabbed Lizzie’s hand and dragged her toward the cliff. “We don’t have a choice.”

&
nbsp; Lizzie dug her boots into the ground, considered her two choices: becoming banshee fodder or jumping from the cliff. Both left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Stop resisting me, lass,” he demanded.

  Lizzie was no match for Kincaid’s superior strength. Despite her objections, he managed to push her over the jagged cliff edge. She screamed, flailing through the chill night air, head over foot. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kincaid jump.

  “Damn you, Kincaid McAllister!” she shouted, envisioning herself splattered across the ground like a strawberry milkshake.

  Chapter Ten

  Muscles coiled tight, Kincaid used his wulver senses to direct his body as it fell through the cool night air. Though he only had two legs right now, rather than four, he could still control his survival instincts.

  “Aboon,” he shouted, using the command that would call forth his vessel. When the gleaming silver ship broke through the surface of the cove and parted the waves, he angled himself toward Lizzie. Wrapping his arms around her body and holding tight to her slim waist, he propelled them away from the rocks and toward the deck.

  “Volan, volan!” Lizzie screamed.

  “Stop fighting me, lass,” he insisted. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “Really? If this is taking care of me, then I’m a hair on a donkey’s butt.”

  When she tried to push away again, he said, “Damn it, what are you doing?”

  “Trying to fly. But I can’t remember the spell. I haven’t done it in so long.”

  “My ship will catch us.”

  Lizzie’s icy glare pierced Kincaid, but he nodded toward the wet surface of the watercraft. When she spotted it, she uttered a tiny squeak of surprise. Quelling her struggles, she allowed him to maneuver them to safety.

  Only when their feet touched the solid surface did Kincaid relax. Lizzie’s ebony lashes fluttered on her pale cheeks, and her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Instead of pulling away, she stared at him with a look he could only discern as regard. He saw something else in her dark, intoxicating eyes.

  Desire.

  By all that was sacred, she felt good in his arms—just as he remembered. Her body fit snugly within his embrace, soft and perfect in all the right places. His nakedness pressed up against her shape, and every nerve ending in his body sparked with electricity. Her scent filled his nostrils with the sweet aroma he only recalled in his dreams.

  I have missed my bonnie lass.

  His willpower faded. Misguided or not, he leaned over and kissed her glistening, berry-colored lips. He knew he invited danger, but he couldn’t resist the overwhelming temptation.

  At first, she tried to resist, then her small, warm hands pressed against his bare chest. He expected a stinging slap, but it didn’t come. With a soft moan, she melted against him.

  As his lips devoured hers, she returned his kiss, her tongue seeking his. A whimper of pleasure escaped her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

  Given an invitation to act on his rash impulses, Kincaid deepened his kiss. In the back of his mind, he wondered if anything could be as remarkable as Lizzie offering herself to him. Had she forgiven him, or had she become a slave to sexual need just as he had?

  He groaned as his penis became engorged pulsing blood. Brushing against the small of her belly, it grew stiff and heavy. When she reached down and pressed her hand against it, her touch felt like velvet. Passion overrode all his senses and he thought of nothing else but Lizzie.

  Truth be told, there had been many others that he’d bedded in their years apart, but no other female had ever been able to unleash this unmatched desire. Only this woman, this sorceress, could set him ablaze.

  A loud crash interrupted their embrace, and icy cold water doused them from head to toe. Uttering a small cry, Lizzie pulled back. They both looked up at the cliff where banshee screeches echoed from the heights. The barmy old hags had discovered them and now hurled huge rocks into the ocean.

  Sorcha appeared in all of her disgusting glory. She lifted a boulder with her skeletal hands and sent it flying toward them. It landed near the vessel with a splash—too close to ignore. Lizzie began to mutter an incantation and he pressed two fingers against her lips.

  “That’s not necessary lass,” he told her.

  As he raised his arms and turned to face the luminous moon, he entreated an ancient wulver deity to protect them.

  “Mighty Camulus, god of the war and sky, bring forth the wind and send us safely to the Land of the Fae.”

  A mighty wind rose up and wrapped around them, whipping the waves into a lashing frenzy. Iolar lurched forward and sailed rapidly away from shore. In mere seconds, it had traveled miles away from the banshees cursing on the cliff.

  “Impressive,” Lizzie said, gazing appreciatively at his groin then back at his face.

  “Welcome aboard Iolar,” he said with a grin.

  ***

  Lizzie enjoyed the warmth from Kincaid’s muscular arms, realizing how good it felt and how much she’d missed it. Her wet clothing didn’t even seem so uncomfortable with his large body pressed against hers.

  The Oregon coast gradually faded as they traveled at a great speed across the murky waves. The banshees followed for a short time, their ragged gray forms rushing through the dark sky. Eventually the hideous creatures fell back, unable to maintain Iolar’s rapid pace.

  She estimated they’d gone several miles before clacking noises sounded from beneath the deck. Walls rose up around them until she and Kincaid were completely enclosed. Inky darkness filled the space.

  “I can’t see,” she muttered.

  “Not to worry, lass.”

  A second later, the interior burst with sparkling light. Lizzie noticed Kincaid held a bright object.

  “What’s that?”

  “A seeing stone.” He held up an illuminated chunk of granite. “As a boy, I discovered I could coax these into glowing orbs.”

  Lizzie caught her breath when she got another good look at Kincaid’s broad chest and sturdy frame. Fearing she’d throw herself at the brawny Scotsman, stark naked except for his cape, she smiled, then looked away.

  She focused instead on the interior of the ship, amazed by the transformation. In a tiny kitchen area, several pots and pans decorated the wall above the sink. A loveseat, a leather recliner, and a desk outfitted the small living room, which also housed a full bookshelf. At one end of the room, a raised alcove featured burlap curtains which parted to reveal a bed. At the other end, a platform featured a control room, complete with a steering wheel and a captain’s chair.

  Still tempted by Kincaid’s nakedness and close proximity, she moved toward a porthole and opened the wooden shutter. The fresh air cleared her mind and she observed how moonlight skimmed the ocean’s surface. Dear Luna, the moon Goddess, would stand watch to keep them safe. The cliff from which Kincaid had tossed her had become a dark speck on the horizon. Thankfully, the banshees were nowhere in sight.

  “I didn’t believe at first you really owned a vessel,” she told Kincaid. “But you weren’t lying.”

  He frowned. “When did I ever lie?”

  “When you said you wanted to be with me,” Lizzie blurted, unable to contain the angry spark flaring within her.

  She noted how Kincaid’s blue eyes filled with sadness. A part of her felt terrible for lashing out at him. Another part felt justified.

  “You have every right to be angry,” he said. “But I left to protect you. Our kind could never be together. Witches are forbidden to have relationships outside the Wiccan world, correct?”

  As Lizzie nodded, her bitterness toward Kincaid began to fade. “I wish you’d told me the truth.”

  “I believed you were a human back then,” he said. “You’d have thought me addlebrained.”

  Bittersweet release washed over Lizzie. Kincaid hadn’t betrayed her love after all. In truth, he’d loved her enough to let her go. She looked up and met his gaze, which burned like fiery e
mbers at midnight.

  Her reaction, mixed with Kincaid’s heated perusal, made her wet clothes practically steam. She rubbed her damp arms, attempting to ward off the goose bumps prickling her skin.

  When he eased up beside her and lifted her chin, her knees practically knocked together. She almost pulled away, but didn’t. Instead, she recalled how thrilling it had been to make love with this man centuries ago in a faraway place and time.

  “I’m a big oaf,” he admitted. “Had I told you the truth, you would’na hate me so.”

  “It’s been difficult all these years,” she admitted.

  “Tell me Lizzie girl, did you use your powers of fascination on me back then?”

  “Absolutely not,” she said, trying not to be offended. Deep down, she realized his question wasn’t unreasonable, now that he knew she was a witch and not a human.

  He looked relieved. “I had to know that what I felt for you was real.”

  She wanted to ask him what he had felt for her, but an ache spread across her forehead and she reached up to probe a tender spot. “Ouch, that hurts like a witch’s boil.”

  “You’ve hit your head, lass, and it’s begun to swell.” He softly caressed her temple, smoothing damp hair away from her skin. “I can give you something to ease the pain.”

  “All I need is rest,” Lizzie said, trembling at his touch.

  “Your wet clothing must add to your discomfort. My apologies for being a poor host.” He led her toward a door. “You’ll welcome a warm shower and dry clothes, no doubt.”

  She bit her lower lip as a crazy thought passed through her mind, and she pictured the two of them showering together, water sluicing over their naked bodies. The idea appealed to her, yet it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

  When Kincaid stopped walking, she slammed into him and tripped over her feet. He gripped her upper arms to steady her.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, cursing herself for being such a clod.

  “No worries,” he returned in a husky tone. A lock of damp, reddish-gold hair slanted across his forehead and his breathing held a ragged edge.