WYLDER MAGIC

  

  Camille Anthony

  

   

  

  To Joyce.

  

  Sister extraordinary: Cook, babysitter, proofreader, chauffeur.

  

  This one, I wouldn’t have written without you. Thanks!

  

   

  

  Chapter One

  

  Thursday, October 21, 11:00 p.m. (Northeastern Division time)

  

   

  

  “By the Lord and Lady, Wylder…! How did you come to misplace the Academy’s most promising student?”

  

  By totally fucking up, asshole. How else?Wylder sneered at Lemuel, refusing to give a verbal answer to the irritating Council member. Just being here, orderedto be here, had his temper flaring hotter than the Salamander-ignited fires that were blazing through San Francisco at this very moment.

  

  I saw something I wanted, something wondrous, and with my usual damned arrogance, tried to snatch it for myself.

  

  “…And why are you only now bringing this to our attention?”

  

  Elias Wylder—acknowledged the most powerful Warlock since his evil ancestor, Grimm the Rogue—glared at the speaker until the burly, hairy man gulped and hunched down into his seat. What had gotten into Lemuel “the Mule” Westerner? The were-panther knew better than to speak to him in that tone of voice. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about challenging me? Even drawing upon the enhanced power bestowed by his mated state, he doesn’t have a hope in hell of defeating me. Any contest between the two of us would be no contest.

  

  “I, too, would like to know the particulars of how Miss Maganistus graduated, yet never came before this Council to accept her diploma and wand. Her graduation shock waves have been reported from as far away as the Outer Isles!”

  

  He turned to face Lady Selima, sensing her nurturing magick as her softly spoken words flowed over him, calming his fractious anger. “Until now, I deemed it a personal matter. I didn’t feel the Council needed the information, as at the time, it did not fringe upon National Security. It does now.”

  

  Her gentle mind reached out, attempting to touch and soothe his turbulent spirit. He closed his eyes, resting a brief moment in the peace she generated before mentally jerking back. With a sharp shake of his head, he broke contact with the compassionate Lady, unable to afford even one second of weakness. The fluctuations in his power were increasing, his control deteriorating, daily.

  

  “Stop stroking my aura, Selima…you weren’t invited.”

  

  The mellow magicker spread her hands out palm up. “I sense great upheaval in your heart and soul. I but seek to ease—”

  

  “Butt out! I don’t need you softening me up.” His low growl rumbled through the room like static electricity. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

  

  The dark menace in his voice made the others cringe, but it didn’t surprise him to see Selima walking toward him, arms outstretched. Her husband drew her back, throwing an admonishing glare toward the male upsetting his mate.

  

  “She means no harm, Wylder.” Antoiyn Grooden placed a comforting hand over his wife’s while his other hand furtively sketched a powerful protection rune in the air.

  

  Wylder snorted, an imp of adversity temping him to burn a rune of his own into the air. “Stand down, Grooden. As if any sign of yours could stop my magick was I so inclined to—”

  

  “Oh, for the goddess’ sake, Wylder, cut out all the dramatics and just tell us what happened with the girl? We put you in charge of seeing to her graduation exercises and now no one can find a trace of her. It’s as if she fell off the face of the earth. So, what did you do…kill her?”

  

  Horrified silence cloaked the room’s occupants in the aftermath of the dangerous outburst made by Westerner’s mate until the silence shattered under the bark of Wylder’s involuntary laughter.

  

  Only Judith would actually come out and say something like that to me! How could I have ever fucked this mentally blond airhead? Oh, well, he reasoned a second later, chuckling and shaking his head, my cock didn’t give a fuck about her absent thought processes…

  

  His grudging amusement over her customary no-clue-ism gradually faded as his night-dark eyes touched on each of the mated pairs, noting with disdain how they had drawn back, distancing themselves from poor Judith and the anticipated backlash of his anger.

  

  Wylder’s black eyes flashed, a grimace drawing his mouth tight. “Look at you, presenting as small a target as possible, pretending you aren’t frightened enough to piss yourselves,” he taunted, not bothering to hide his disgust at the members of the council. “None save Selima and Judith have the courage to speak their minds, let alone meet my gaze.” He snorted, lip curling up in a mocking half smile when even the Elven pair—next in power to him—refused to acknowledge his derision. “Judith may not have enough sense to fill a thimble, but apparently, she and Selima are the only ones in these chambers with any balls.”

  

  Like a caged beast, he paced the parquet floor, running agitated hands through his shoulder-length dense black mass of hair. Turning on his audience he shouted, “What has this council come to? Once, this body of rulers stood for something. Now all I see is a pathetic group of cowards. Is this all that remains of the mighty Council of Magick? Well, you need an infusion of new blood. You need me!”

  

  “Not yet, we don’t,” Lemuel snapped, face distorted with a mix of jealousy, envy and fear. “You don’t get to take control of this Council until you are mated.”

  

  “Meanwhile,” Grooden interrupted, smoothly bringing the conversation back on track, “you were telling us about Lady Maganistus—”

  

  “Not ‘Lady’ until she receives her wand, Chairperson Grooden.”

  

  “So noted, Councilman Westerner.”

  

  “As for what happened with LadyMaganistus…” Wylder’s emphasis on the title did not go unnoted by his listeners, “I supervised her graduation, which she passed with glowing expertise. I left her sleeping, recuperating from the rite. When I returned, I found she had escaped. “

  

  “Escaped? Why did she need to escape? She was a graduate, not a prisoner. What did she do…better yet, what did youdo to her?”

  

  Wylder did not like having to answer Judith Westerner’s impertinent questions. Besides, the memory of what he had done made his cock, never totally quiescent since that long ago evening, swell to painful hardness. Cautiously considering how he would answer, Wylder chose his words with care, his rebellious thoughts running in counterpoint.

  

  “I chose to personally supervise the ceremony having judged her too new to her powers and undisciplined in their use, to risk her Openingwith just anyone.”

  

  I didn’t want any Warlock’s cock in her but mine!

  

  “There was a danger that she might lose control of her new powers. Mine are such that I could control any wild magick that might get loose.”

  

  There was a danger she would forge an emotional tie with the male who acted as her Athame. Lord and Lady help me, but I would not allow that!

  

  “Knowing she feared my reputation, I wove a spell of deception and presented myself as her Athame. Once we joined, I knew her to be my future mate.”

  

  She feared me, feared my magick, thinking I wanted to take her over, control her. She knew I wanted more than the night and balked at making the permanent mating commitment I wanted from her.

  

  “When our melded magicks revealed my true face she panicked, lost control. So did I.”

  

  I had never been so connected, never seen someone as clearly as I saw her at that moment. I entered her so deeply, she felt me in her soul…and I felt her take over mine. The closeness, the passion changed us, formed us…we became two halves of a whole, our mating fated by the Lord and Lady…

  

  The terseness of his words faded as he paused to breathe, to gain control of his emotional agitation. He shuttered his dark eyes with a thick fringe of sooty lashes, his gaze flicking to the two empty throne-like chairs at the apex of the round table.

  

  His lips tightened as his hands fisted at his side. Jaw tightening, he swallowed thickly.

  

  Gods, how I hate being answerable to these weak excuses for leaders when, by rights, they should be answering to me!

  

  More than he hated admitting the mistakes he had made with Morven, Elias Ethan Winston Wylder hated needing the Council’s help.

  

  “I was not prepared when she called forth my power. We merged totally.”

  

  “Great Lord and Lady, no wonder that power wave was off the scale!”

  

  He swung his head around to eye the new speaker. The Vampire representative flashed both sets of fangs in a wide, suggestive grin.

  

  “Man, that must have been one hell of an explosive Opening ritual…”

  

  Wylder nodded silent agreement, the memories welling up in a flood…

  

  She whimpered, twisting her lithe, slender body sharply against him. For the first time in his life he wished himself possessed of a smaller cock. Her breath came through her open mouth in gasping little pants, her distress so acute she could not hold back her moans. He looked up at her face, contorted in pain. Dark gray eyes swam with tears, her deep auburn hair, darkened with sweat, lay plastered against her cheeks and neck, evidence of her weakening efforts to impale her pussy upon his steel hard erection.

  

  Glancing down to where their bodies interlocked, he winced at the angry red color of her dainty little cunt, once so elegant with its smooth, shaven mound. Her swollen and inflamed lips throbbed against him, stretched obscenely thin by the ridged crowned head of his cock. She had managed to wedge the massive mushroom--shaped head just past her tiny opening, but the combination of his thickness and her tightness repeatedly defeated her efforts to take more.

  

  He groaned. No sensation in the world felt better than the hot juices of her cunt bathing the head of his cock, the fist-tight clasp of her scalding pussy.

  

  At the same time, nothing had ever made him feel as bad as he felt, seeing her suffering. Passion gave way to compassion and he knew he could not continue. Hands gripping her hips, he began the move that would ease him out of her tortured flesh.

  

  “Do not go!” Her gasping cry rang harshly in the silent room.

  

  “You are in pain. This is too much for you. I cannot continue when you are hurting so…”

  

  “You must, Ethan. To withdraw now is to fail me. You are my Athame—my ritual knife—the blade Iwill use to open my body as a willing gift to the Eternal Couple.”

  

  She shifted beneath him and he moaned, burning ripples of ecstasy coursing through his cock as her tight sheath clamped down on the sensitive head. He closed his eyes, fighting the feral urge to slam into her, to ravage the virgin shield denying his full entrance.

  

  “Do it,” she hissed, grabbing his face between both palms and bringing his head up to meet her fierce stormy-gray gaze. “Come in me deeper…all the way…I do not give you leave to stop.”

  

  A shudder wracked her hard as he nodded, then angled his head to bathe her nipple with his tongue. “I obey, Lady. Only let me give you some pleasure to counter the pain…”

  

  Her nod released him from his voluntary submission. Using muscles honed in battle, he flipped her, reversing their positions, managing not to dislodge his cock in the process. Now on top, he bit down on her tips of her ripe berries, soothed the stings with swirling swipes of his tongue, worshiping the swollen bounty of her breasts until her back arched and she cried out…but not in pain. Rocking against her, circling, he felt a rush of her silky heat flow down to coat the constricted head of his cock. He slid deeper into the fertile, life-giving delta of her sex.

  

  “Yes, baby…” he crooned, shifting to forge another few inches inside her, his passage eased by his pre-cum and her own sweet slippery lubrication, “slow and easy…you can take me this way…”

  

  His breathing faltered as he pushed in that last inch and felt the vibrations down the length of his shaft as his cock thudded against the natural barrier of her innocence. A glance down showed he still had at least four more inches outside her body. Jaw firming in determination, he smoothed his hands down the outside of her thighs, encircled her ankles in the cages of his fingers and drew her legs up, forcing them wide. Rearing back, he pulled out, only halting when his broad cock head snagged at the gate of her small slit.

  

  “No! Do not stop, Ethan, I beg you…”

  

  Teeth sinking into his lower lip, muscles tightening in preparation, heart bleeding at the thought of the pain he could not avoid inflicting, Wylder looked into her eyes for an ageless moment.

  

  “Don’t you dare,” she snarled in warning, a wildcat fighting for her future, her power. “If you stop…”

  

  “I’m not going to stop. I’m never going to stop,” he promised her softly, holding her gaze as his fingers gripped her hips tightly, anchoring her against the coming shock.

  

  “Be opened to your power, Lady…and to your Lord!”

  

  Using his cock as a battering ram, he slammed into her, bursting through the thin but strong veil of flesh, closing his eyes as her screams assailed his ears, vowing she would scream just as loudly in pleasure before he finished…

  

  He never expected her to recover so quickly from the trauma of the difficult opening, yet she surprised him again, commanding he roll over so she could take the ascendancy. He obeyed.

  

  She rode him hard, flinging her hips at him, bouncing on his up-thrust cock with an enthusiasm he had never before encountered. Her silvery gray eyes glittered down at him, full of the joy of life. Her deep auburn hair flying about her animated face, her moist lips parted in a wide smile, she rose and fell on his hard shaft.

  

  “I love this!” She slid her hands down her body, skimming her concave belly to touch and circle her clit as she undulated on his stiff pole. Her slim fingers encircled his shaft, sliding up and down it as he pushed up into her, applying just the right pressure to keep him on the razor’s edge of coming. “You feel so thick and hot inside me…so wonderfully long and hard!”

  

  Swiveling her bottom, grinding his wide, flared head against her cervix, she compressed his tightening balls between their heaving bodies with each downward move. He could feel her thighs tremble as she bottomed out at each strong jounce, as though her control slipped its tether every time his thick cock completely filled her pussy, stretching it impossibly wide.

  

  He loved her enthusiasm, loved seeing her plump, pert breasts jiggle with every movement, setting the nipples dancing before his hungering gaze. He loved the feel of her hot, clasping channel burning the skin of his shaft, the slick constricting walls of her vagina gripping him so tightly. Lying beneath her, watching her glowing face as she uninhibitedly screamed her way through a series of grinding orgasms, he admitted his love for Morven Maganistus.

  

  “I am coming again!” She laughed aloud; her pleasure painted on her lively face with broad brush strokes of hot pink at cheeks and flushed neck.

  

  “Do not come yet, stay with me a while…”

  

  “No,” she giggled, leaning down to kiss his parted lips, dipping into his mouth to tangle her tongue with his, “you come withme …comein me. You have not yet given me the Lord’s Gift…”

  

  “I want to fuck you forever, want this to last…you will not need me after this nigh…” He groaned aloud at the sad realization.

  

  She slowed her carnal romp, easing into a series of smooth grinds and gentle undulations. “Perhaps, as you say, I will not need you…but I willwant you…wantthis …again and again…and again…”

  

  “Do you swear…?” His hips arched strongly, sending his cock spearing into her with all the strength of his new-born hopes.

  

  “Yes. Now come in me,” she commanded, suddenly picking up the pace again. Pounding her pelvis against his, she sank fluidly up and down his slick rampant cock, their combined juices easing her way and sheening his flesh. “Give me everything within you…I want it all…every drop…every inch…all of you…!”

  

  Wylder shuddered, body convulsing under the lash of her voice. All unknowing, she spoke the ritual words of the joining rite and his soul answered, helpless to deny her call. His hips surged upward, driving his cock deep. Sinking into her, seeking the entrance of her womb with powerful strokes, he held her down with hands fisted on her hips, striving toward nirvana. Sweat beaded on his skin. His lips pulled back in a grimace of erotic pain as he shuttled between her thighs, his shaft squeezed and abraded by the contracting walls of her cunt.

  

  “You want me…take me!” He grunted, bucking hard against her. “Ughhhhh!” He slammed up, surging through her clasping pussy, slicing through her hot channel like a heated knife through butter. She melted around him, coating his cock and groin with her cream. “Here I am, baby…all yours…all for you…take it all…!”

  

  His eyes snapped open and locked with hers as his balls drew up tight, churning beneath his pistoning cock. Fingers of pleasure, spikes of electric fire, shot up the back of his legs, sparking along his thighs and back. His toes curled and he pushed up and up, feeling the tightening in his sacs that signaled the coming eruption of his sperm.

  

  More than seed churned along the length of his shaft, for she had commanded everything of him and he gladly obeyed. His power gathered in a mighty wave, rising and rushing along the pathways of his body, stripping him of will, of identity, of subterfuge.

  

  “Morven…! Yessss…! Mine…!” Muscles straining and heart pounding, mouth open in a primal cry of surrender and conquest, he spilled his power and sperm into her, marking her forever his.

  

  “By the Lady of Magick—” Her shocked exclamation brought his head up. Gray eyes wide with disbelief, she gazed down at his contorted face…his true face, revealed as he gave way under the most explosive orgasm of his life. Her body still convulsing in climax above him, he held her, watched as disbelief gave way to horror.

  

  “Professor Wylder…!”

  

  And then the climax was upon them, rolling them into a maelstrom of passion and magick. They writhed together in the sweetest agony as power flowed between them. Their bodies and souls locked together in ecstatic pain and then unraveled in erotic release, hurling them onto a distant star spangled shore.

  

  Her body collapsed upon his. Head tucked under his chin, she wept bitterly, body shuddering under the force of her tears. His heart shattered into pieces as the sound of her broken cries shredded his conscience. Each tiny part shriveled and died under the scalding heat of the tears falling upon his heaving chest…

  

  “Save your congratulations,” Wylder growled. His fingers shook as they wove through his hair, pushing a lock of his unruly black hair off his forehead. “The graduation ritual may have been successful—and I attest it was—but the mating rite did not have so happy an ending. Actually, we did not complete the exchange.”

  

  Vorodin raised an expressive eyebrow. “Now, that surprises me. I would never have taken you for the sort of chap to allow something that important to get out of hand.”

  

  Wylder’s eyes narrowed angrily at the vampire’s tongue-in-cheek comment, not caring for the bloodsucker’s penchant for finding humor at his expense. “The Opening ceremony proved too much for her, no doubt because channeling that much power for the first time drained her. I wanted her well rested before staking my claim, with no possibility of later claiming I used her tiredness as an advantage. I placed her under a timed sleep spell. When I returned, she had flown. She’s managed to elude me ever since.”

  

  Druscilla, never far from her vampire mate, reached for her husband’s hand, entwining her long-boned fingers with his. A frown puckered the skin at her brow. Her full, carmine lips thinned as her face twisted with worry. “But her graduation took place last year, one night before the All Hollows Celebrations. That means—”

  

  “I have to find and bind her before this year’s rites, or I lose her forever.” Narrowing his eyes in determination, Wylder pounded his left fist into his right palm. Through gritted teeth he ground out, “I will not lose her. I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to, but I willfind her.”

  

  “It is possible you will fail in this quest, Wylder. You need to know there has been a new seeing. In this one you do not take the Master’s Seat.” The detached, emotionless words of K’Lndr, female of the Elven match, grated on Wylder’s already stretched nerves.

  

  Not for the first time, he damned the ancient laws forbidding an unmated Magicker to hold Council Office. He deserved a position on the Council by right of power, alone. Had he and his mate taken their seats during the past All Hollow’s festivities, they would already be ruling the council of Elders. Instead, he remained at the beck and call of a handful of people less powerful than he, suffering from limited vision and prone to petty squabbling.

  

  “Has it been confirmed? Who saw it? How strong was the seeing?” Lemuel Westerner’s head snapped up, his expression hopefully inquisitive.

  

  Wylder started for Lemuel, his heated glare obviously making the babbling Council member recall the danger of angering a powerful Mage, for he scrabbled over the arm of his chair, seeking a hiding place as Wylder bore down on him.

  

  Thunder crashed. Lightning streaked across the bowl of the ceiling. The lights flickered madly, their strobe effects chopping Wylder’s movements into discrete segments as he crossed the floor and grabbed the were-cat from his seat.

  

  Lemuel panicked. Unable to hold his human form, he changed shape, leaving Wylder shaking a full-grown panther by the scruff of the neck.

  

  With a scream of fear and rage, Judith transformed and rushed to her mate’s defense, launching at Wylder, claws extended. A negligent flick of his chin knocked her from the air, sending her spinning end-over-end toward one of the marble columns supporting the ceiling of the council chamber. Just before her head struck the massive pillar, Wylder regained control of his volatile temper and closed his fist in a move of power. Her sleek cat’s body came to an abrupt stop in mid air before slowly lowering to the ground.

  

  “Your interest in this new seeingis very telling, Westerner,” Wylder growled. Glaring into the great cat’s slitted eyes, he dug his long fingers into his jugular, cutting off his air. “I will not soon forget the sentiments you revealed here this night.”

  

  Lemuel responded by mewling, sheathing his paws and curling his tail up under his belly, instinctively choosing submission over death.

  

  A wave of disgust surged through Wylder. Feeling dirtied by contact with the cowardly were-panther, he stared at the pathetic creature dangling from his fist.

  

  He felt the magick swell within him, a blast of furnace hot energy smoldering in his chest. Fueled by anger, it rode him, urged him to shift form and sink fangs into this treacherous prey. Control naught but a distant thought, a dim inclination, he bent his head, jaws elongating as his power gave form to his thoughts and he began to morph into the panther’s natural enemy…

  

  Judith screamed. Equal parts cat’s howl and woman’s grieving cry, the desperate, sorrowing wail froze Wylder in place.

  

  Only once had he heard such despairing anguish voiced. He had sworn he would never again be the cause of so deep a pain. Sickened at his actions, he swallowed the bile burning in his throat. Unable to get rid of the were-cat fast enough, he opened his fist and practically tossed the feline away. Despite the graveness of the situation, he almost smiled as he watched the cat twist in mid air, land on his feet and scramble away. A moment later, all mirth ceased as, hands clenched at his sides, he swung about to confront the Council.

  

  They stood bunched together in a tight formation. Lemuel, belly low to the ground, tail still tucked tight between his hind legs, had joined his fellows. Judith butted her head against her mate, herding him on to the back of the group as the others closed ranks behind him.

  

  Their actions, given their usual cowardice, managed to surprise him.

  

  They formed a barrier of flesh and magick between Wylder and the traumatized cat. Even Vorodin, whom he had counted a friend, stood aligned against him. He couldn’t help but marvel at their courage as their mouths spoke great words of power and their hands wove ancient patterns in preparation for battle. Had he been as out-of-control as they obviously believed, they would have been preparing to die.

  

  Frustrated and angry he may be, disappointed and often disillusioned over their actions, yes. To his surprise, he found he did not want to kill any of them. “Congratulations! I see there are teeth, still, in this company of misfits. Perhaps there is hope for this Council, after all. “ There was no mockery in his words.

  

  Drawing on the shredded remains of control, Wylder called back his roiling power. Ruthlessly harnessing the elemental energies, he tamped down his anger and calmed the lightning storm, allowing the room lights to come back up. With a wave of his hand, the room was set to rights. Then, with hard-won dignity, he schooled his face into an expressionless mask and bowed to the Council, hands spread palm outward. “I place myself at the mercy of this Council for offering violence to the body of one its members.”

  

  K’Tlkn, the Elf, raised his eyebrows and canted his pointed ears forward. “You have repeatedly asked why we do not recognize you as part of this council, even as a standing member. Your present behavior is part of the reason we question your ability to rule, Wylder. Yours is the strongest magick—none here doubts it and none disputes it—yet, unmated, you lack the balance and self-control necessary to be an effective ruler. Think of what you almost allowed to happen to Judith, an innocent by-stander of your wrath. Such out-of-control power is a danger to all of us…as you, above all, should well know. “

  

  Every muscle in his body clenched as unwanted memories flashed across his mind’s eye and the echo of a beloved voice rang in his soul.

  

  “Elias, we are as one. I love you, my brother. Join me! Together, we will rule this world and any other of our choosing. Brother, do not make me kill you! Elias…!”

  

  He closed his eyes, unwilling to expose the pain that still tormented him, sharp as jagged glass. At his side, his hands curled into fists, the only outward sign of the bitter, heart wrenching remorse that never left him. A ragged sigh swelled his chest. Swallowing past the lump of regret wedged in his throat, he admitted, “I do know it.”

  

  Turning his gaze to Judith, who had yet to return to her human form, he bowed in deep respect. “I plead your pardon, Lady. You have never done me harm. For my unwarranted action against you, I owe you a boon. You may require it of me at any time.”

  

  The panthera hissed at him, her ruff standing stiffly; twitching tail held aloft in an obvious sign of still ruffled emotions. Wylder sighed and inclined his head with a wry nod, accepting that her forgiveness would not be granted so easily.

  

  “Something must be done. This barbarism cannot go unpunished.” Lemuel croaked from his safe haven behind the lines.

  

  “My only defense for this lack of control is my need to find my mate. You all know I have never been able to stomach Westerner’s whining, yet never, in all these years, have I attacked him.”

  

  “This is true,” Grooden allowed. “We must take into consideration the effects of an interrupted mating. His magick has been drawn forth but not returned. The situation will only worsen drastically if Wylder’s mate is not restored to him.”

  

  “Granted,” Druscilla nodded in agreement. “But, how will we begin? Where do we look? We have nothing of hers with which to skrye…”

  

  “We know she is far away. I have scoured these Northeastern Division lands from top to bottom. If something or someone is shielding her from me, it is far enough away to escape my skrying, for I carry her essence within.” His lips turned up in a true smile at the memory of her pure, sweet taste. “She could not escape my detection at close quarters.”

  

  “Cast a seeing, K’Lndr,” Vorodin suggested. “The Lord and Lady have already given you one sight involving this situation. Mayhap they will grant another.”

  

  “Please, K’Lndr!” Wylder pleaded, not caring that his impassioned plea shocked them all. Pride had fled with his Lady. Every day without her saw him closer to losing control. Madness beckoned and he feared for his world. Unlike before, no one was powerful enough to confront and defeat him. Ironically, the only person with a chance of defeating him was the very person he needed to save his sanity and his life.

  

  Wylder glanced at the seer. “Look for her on the Western Coast and the Light Isles, as far away as Chinasia.”

  

  “I will cast, but I can promise you nothing.”

  

  “I have ten days. Wehave ten days. Without my mate, I will have no anchor, no control. You all know what that means…” His expression grim, he fought against his feelings of abused pride, willing to humble himself if necessary Nothing, not his pride or his public standing would he allow to stand in the way of recovering his lost love. Driven by a desperation that daily grew darker, stronger, Wylder cried out, “By the Lord and Lady…please, help me. Morven Maganistus is my life!”

  

  Chapter Two

  

  Monday, October 25, 7:55 a.m. (Northwestern Division time)

  

   

  

  Moriah Morris slipped out to the garage, hoping against hope that her temperamental transportation would start without giving her a hassle this morning. Biting her lip, she rattled off the starter spell, refusing to admit the fault might lie with her magick, not her transportation. The engine purred to life along with the radio. She flung her briefcase into her low-slung convertible with a heartfelt prayer. “Thank you, Lady, Mother of all.”

  

   

  

  “Gooooooood morning, San Francisco, It is eight o’clock on this hot Monday morning! This is Bob—”

  

  “And Jerry—”

  

  “—your hosts of the ‘Bob and Jerry in the Morning’ radio program. We’re your fly-to-work, stay alert program, keeping you abreast of traffic jams and spell storms as you broom and ‘port your way to that haunting day job!”

  

  “Bringing you traffic updates every fifteen minutes with weather and news on the half-hour. So, Bob, what’s the weather like this morning?”

  

  “Well, Jerry, as you know, San Francisco has been sweltering under an unseasonable heat wave and it looks like we’ll see no relief today. The precognition is for hot followed by more hot on this bright October 25th morning. Look for people’s tempers to flare as high as the temperature does…”

  

   

  

  Listening absently to the usual prattle from the radio, Moriah ran a lightning check on all systems. The last thing she needed was for the Hoover to stall on her, making her even later. Thank the goddess for another hour and a half before her first and most important meeting of the morning. If nothing else went wrong, she should make it in plenty of time…

  

   

  

  “Whoa, Bob! Sounds like that Elemental Salamander is still on the loose! Authorities are getting worried. If the heat continues to rise, the re-seeded forests are in danger of being consumed by spontaneous combustion. S.W.A.T. has been assigned to investigate the Salamander, to see if it has been summoned as malicious magick on someone’s part, or it simply wandered into the San Francisco area by accident.”

  

  “Jerry, I have to tell you…when the Spell Weather Assessment Team comes in it means things have gone seriously wrong. Folks, you take care on the roads, today. We have reports coming in about fly-by spell shootings and local police advise travelers to drive with their portals closed and warded. The Police Chief suggests taking the rapid transit until the weather, and those hot-heads out there, cool down.”

  

  Eight o’clock, and already her morning sucked. The baby-sitter called in sick, today of all days, so of course, the replacement sent over by the agency showed up half an hour late. Now, to make matters worse, little Nyla—usually the most placid of babies—was refusing to have anything to do with the woman.

  

  Moriah’s chest rose and fell on a dejected sigh. Her daughter was irritable and cranky. This heat didn’t help matters and by the sound of it, there would be no early cold snap. At least the Hoover Feather-light started with no problems this morning. Leaving it running, she sprinted back inside for a quick goodbye kiss and some last minute bargaining for good behavior from her precocious child.

  

  In the hallway, she paused before the full-length mirror to tug at her dark green business suit, smoothing the fall of lace at breast and wrists. The cream blouse went well with the suit, showing off her firm, high breasts and complimenting her dark brown hair. She liked the feel of the short skirt brushing her thighs, flirty, but not too revealing for the office. She interfaced with the public a lot and the senior partners appreciated beauty as well as brains in their junior associates. She didn’t mind using her assets…to a certain degree.

  

  Hurrying on into small nursery, she dropped to her knees. Leaning over her daughter’s bed, she nuzzled noses and dropped a loving kiss on her forehead. “You are Momma’s precious bundle! Behave while Momma is gone,” she ordered firmly. She softened the command with the promise, “I will bring you back a treat!” She straightened up and turned to face the waiting babysitter. “I’ll be home at lunch time, Ms. Pettibone. You’ll find a list of numbers on the refrigerator. Please do not hesitate to call my spell phone at any time if anything out of the ordinary should occur.”

  

  “I misdoubt anything will come up that I cannot handle, madam,” the starchy woman replied stiffly, folding her hands together over her trim waist. “I have several degrees in early development and training. I am quite prepared for this young miss, I assure you.”

  

  A worried frown drew Moriah’s eyebrows together. She did not know why, but the vibes pouring off the agency replacement struck her as…off. Her intuition screamed at her, yet it didn’t indicate danger. She felt no menace from the woman, only a vague unease about leaving her to the un-tender mercies of her impetuous offspring. “Ms. Pettibone, I don’t think you understand the situation, here. Didn’t the agency inform you my daughter was…well, precocious…beyond her years in magick usage?”

  

  The woman actually snorted. “One can see that at once, madam. You may place full confidence in me. I won’t tolerate any shenanigans!” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Oh my, it’s past eight thirty. Hadn’t you better be on your way?”

  

  “You are right, I do need to get going,” she admitted, feeling flustered and antsy. “I’m already late and I have a pile of work waiting for me.” With several reluctant backwards glances and blown kisses, she closed the door to her small apartment and instantly noticed the ominous silence beneath the ongoing radio clatter.

  

  The Hoover had stalled out. Again.

  

  If anyone at work were to see this shoddy piece of spell work, my position would be in grave danger. Why is everything going to hell in a hand basket?

  

  Climbing into the driver’s seat, Moriah closed her eyes and concentrated on composing a re-starter spell. The motor finally caught and she strapped in, cursing under her breath as the Feather-light took off in a series of ungainly hops and jerks. The radio announcer caught her wandering attention when she heard the name of her firm mentioned.

  

  “…Also in the news today, the prestigious magickal firm of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations will announce the winner of the firm’s annual MVP (Most Valuable Practitioner) award at the All Hallows Gala bash eight evenings from today. This annual charitable event fills up fast, folks, so buy your tickets early. You don’t want to miss an opportunity to rub elbows with the celebrities and stars! Here’s a list of those planning to be in attendance…”

  

  She knew why her spells, and everything else in her life, seemed to be haywire and literallygoing to the dogs. Life would not go back to normal until she got past the upcoming All Hallows night.

  

  A shiver ghosted over her, chilling her flesh despite the heat as memories of the upcoming anniversary of her graduation forced their way past her weakened mental barriers. Her cheeks burned and her pussy pulsed hungrily, causing her to clench her knees together, remembering the power of the man and the sexual magick he had wielded over her.

  

  She fought the memories as she fought the feelings flooding through her suddenly rebelling body. Try as she might, she could not stop her breasts from tingling, her nipples from tightening into hard, needy points of desire. The muscles in her lower belly spasmed, her clit swelled and ached. She rocked in her seat, trembling with awakened desire, her very fingertips throbbing from want. Balling her hands into fists to keep them from plucking at her burning nipples, she stared with sightless eyes through the ensorcelled pane of her windshield. Gaze turning inward, she recalled the scenes from the past and remembered how innocuously that night had begun …

  

   

  

  “Miss Maganistus? My name is Ethan Winston.”

  

  Morven stared at the tall young man standing on her doorstep, a lock of blond hair falling in a boyish sweep over his wide forehead. His navy blue eyes held an equal blend of self-assurance and wariness as he shifted, then stilled under her prolonged scrutiny.

  

  He cleared his throat. “Professor Wylder told me you were looking for someone to assist with your graduation ceremony. He said he had recommended me to you. You are expecting me, aren’t you?”

  

  “Yes, Ethan, I was expecting you. Won’t you please, come in…?” She stepped back, allowing him inside. “This way…”she gestured, ushering him into the living room.

  

  “By the way, do you mind my calling you by your first name?” She smiled and held out a hand. His eager handclasp felt warm and dry, strong yet gentle. He seemed perfect for her needs.

  

  A sigh escaped his lips and an expression of relief lightened his drawn features as he shook hands with her. “Not at all, ma’am, please do. After all, we are about to become intimately acquainted—”

  

  “Wonderful! And you must call me Morven.” Releasing his hand, she led him over to a plush couch. The thick green cushions barely dented under their weight as they settled down, eyes still cataloguing each other.

  

  “I really do thank you for agreeing to take part in my special night, Ethan. Youdo realize this is asenior graduation—an Opening?”

  

  “Yes, Morven,” he nodded. “The professor explained you are attaining your Ladyship. I have assisted in several rites of this type and know just what to expect…” He rifled through his bag and produced a sheaf of official looking papers. “I’ve brought my medical reports for you to look over.” He gave a little self-conscious laugh.

  

  “What’s the matter?”

  

  He shrugged. “That last statement sounded sort of arrogant. I didn’t mean anything like that. It’s just…” he paused and bit his lip. “I come from a very poor family. I tested high on the S.A.T. My district needed more Warlocks gifted in Sub-Atomic Telekinesis, so they are paying for my tuition and books. There is very little money for anything else and these assignments help me sprinkle a little protein over my nut-paste.”

  

  Morven patted his hand, feeling like an elder sister. “I understand, believe me—”

  

  He frowned. “How could you? After all, you are a Maganistus!”

  

  She laughed as she shook her head. “Everyone jumps to that same conclusion. I am not a member of that branch of the family.” She snorted. “I wish! No…”she demurred, “I made my way through college by tutoring and taking on jobs as professor’s aide. I worked this last semester for Professor Wylder.”

  

  Ethan turned toward her, crooking his right leg over his knee. He looked like he was settling in for a cozy conversation. “What do you think about the professor? Do you like him?”

  

  She had to think about that for a while. “How does one like someone like him?” she asked, smiling absently. “Like is such a mundane word to use in conjunction with a Warlock of that magnitude. He is immensely powerful and I respect him. I’ve never met anyone with that degree of Magick. It frightens me even as it awes me. I imagine I am not the only one to feel like that about the man. It must be difficult living with the fears and awe of those around you. Can a person who is that important have any friends?”

  

  “He’s from my district, you know. That family keeps to themselves so we don’t really know much about them. Personally, I have never liked him.”

  

  His words were harsh, his voice gruff. She studied him, searching his eyes for signs of anger or hurt. Usually, when a person voiced such emotionally charged words, they were fuelled by past hurt or past harm. “What has he done to make you feel that way about him?”

  

  Ethan shrugged. “Nothing, really, he just gives me creeps. He’s so emotionally cold, I get frost-bite when I stand close to him!”

  

  His words surprised a laugh out of her. “I can’t say I don’t know what you mean. But I never found him to be standoffish. In fact, I could have almost sworn he tried to make a pass at me!”

  

  “The Ice Professor? No way!”

  

  “Yes, way! You know…” she leaned closer, lowering her voice. She glanced around as if the walls had ears, feeling uncomfortable about what she planned to say, “…he actually offered to be my ritual Athame!”

  

  Ethan drew back and stared at her. His eyebrows lowered. “Isn’t that unethical? Did you threaten to report him? Is that why he backed off?”

  

  “No. And really, you could only say his offer was unethical if he had tried to force my acceptance. There is nothing in the law or tradition that forbids a professor from performing the ritual with a willing graduate, quite the opposite. It’s an accepted way for equal pairings to take place.”

  

  “Then why not accept him? He is enormously rich and powerful. Sounds like what most women want in a match. What made you refuse him?”

  

  “I refused him because a match between us would be anything but equal.” A shiver raised goose flesh on her arms and she rubbed both, running her hands up and down. “He is the most powerful Warlock in the world. Do you know what that would make me?”

  

  “The most powerful woman?”

  

  “No, I’d be the woman under his control, not only magickally, but physically and sexually.”

  

  “You don’t think he would allow you equal footing in a marriage?”

  

  “No. And neither do you. If it were equal, why would he have to allow it?”

  

  He harrumphed. “I see your point. Still, I can’t help but wonder how you got the courage to turn him down, seeing you are so frightened of him?”

  

  “Are you kidding? My fear of his participation outweighed every other terror. The mind boggles at the thought of attempting to controlhim during my Opening. I tell you, it is enough to give me lock-spell.”

  

  “Well,” he said, smiling slowly, showing a glimpse of white, even teeth, “I hope you do not have that problem with me.”

  

  She leaned back against the cushions and felt her mouth widen in a teasing smile. “I am feeling wonderfully relaxed with you, Ethan. Why don’t we check out how relaxed we can get? What say we indulge in a little practice before the main event…?”

  

  His smile widened. “I am at my Lady’s command.”

  

  “No Lady, yet, Ethan. That’s where you come in.” She chuckled. “Pun intended!”

  

   

  

  How could everything have gone so incredibly, impossibly wrong?

  

  Moriah shook her head, stuffing her wayward memories back under lock and key. Grimacing at the clammy, sticky feel of her damp panties, she shifted her hips and reached down to pull the soggy cloth away from her crotch. Thank the goddess she kept spare clothing at the office.

  

  Having checked the GPS crystal to calculate the remaining time of her flight, and finding the Hoover now inclined to cooperate with her magick, Moriah seamlessly synched the global positioning spell to whisk her along the flight lane with no glitches. Moriah turned her thoughts to the meeting she had scheduled for this morning.

  

  She rubbed her hands together, gleefully anticipating the reactions of the upper echelon at J.A.A. That zing of excitement that told her she had come up with another winner sizzled through her bloodstream and she knew the senior partners were going to be jazzed at what she had come up with in response to their biggest client’s request. If justice ruled, the title and salary of MVP would soon be hers! Now, if only her fluctuating magick would cooperate! Six days stood between her and freedom. If she could just get through the next seven days without mishap, the eighth would see her on her way to achieving all her goals.

  

  On the seventh day, her magick would return to being predictable.

  

  On the seventh day, she could cure her daughter.

  

  On the seventh day, the goddess rested.

  

  Moriah sighed.

  

  Six days and counting…

  

  Chapter Three

  

  Monday, October 25, 9:14 a.m. (Northwestern Division time)

  

   

  

  “Moriah, thank goodness you’re here! The Stupid Punks have been calling down every ten minutes, looking for you!”

  

  “Good morning to you, Patricia. One of these days, the Senior Partners are going to hear your colorful substitutions and I’ll be unable to save your bacon. What’s the problem?” She slung her briefcase onto the desk and slipped her jacket off. Rolling her shoulders, she made her way over to the coffee machine and poured a cup of what passed for brew.

  

  “What’s the problem? How about Micronsoft and Norton are scheduled to arrive for a meeting taking place in fifteen minutes and the acting head of Research and Development, who also happens to be the chief developer on the project, has not reported in? Oh, I’d be careful with that coffee, if I were you. It’s not the—”

  

  “Oh, sh—crap!” Moriah hollered, spewing the mouthful of nasty liquid out of her mouth. Had to remember to watch those curse words now she had a daughter. “What is this crud?” She shuddered, eyeing what was supposed to be her morning coffee with a lethal glare.

  

  Patricia snickered. “The latest cost-cutting crap foisted on us by the powers-that-be. The Shit Pots may believe in expensive fronting for the public, but here in the back offices, where the real work takes place, they pinch pennies until they bleed…or our stomachs do.”

  

  “They’d better pinch their pennies elsewhere,” she groused. “I really hate it when they screw with my coffee! The last time I had a decent cup, I had to conjure it, myself.”

  

  Patricia heaved an exaggerated sigh and crossed her plump arms over ample breasts, watching her boss dump her cup into the sink before stalking back to her desk. “I remember when you used to make coffee for our department all the time,” she said pensively. “That was before you decided to dump us low-lifers and go chasing after fame and corporate glory. Now, look at you—beautiful sable brown hair hanging in a lifeless clump, gray eyes—too big for your face—sunken in swollen sockets above bruised pouches. And just look at the rest of you, worn down to skin and bones.”

  

  Moriah leaned back in her chair and eyed her only friend. A slow smile tugged the corner of her mouth, as she drawled, “Hey, you don’t have to sugar-coat your sentiments for me…tell me what you really think!”

  

  She enjoyed her interactions with Patricia, having never had a close friend to just chat and shoot the breeze with before. The closest she had come had been the camaraderie she had shared with Ethan before and during her graduation ceremony. The smile slid off her face. Ethan had never existed.

  

  “Since you asked—” Patricia drew closer, intent on elaborating her concerns for her friend. “I know something is wrong, really wrong with you, with your life. I know when you first arrived you were running from something dangerous. Now, maybe that something or someone has caught up with you, or is closing in—”

  

  “Patricia, you don’t—”

  

  “Stop, okay?” She held up her hand, forestalling Moriah’s instinctive denial. “Just…stop. I’m trying to let you to know that I’m worried about you and I want to help you. I willhelp you with whatever you need, whenever you need it. All you have to do is ask.”

  

  The evidence of her friend’s caring proved too much, and she couldn’t say anything for a minute, too choked up to respond. “You are so—” she cleared her throat. “No one has ever—” she closed her eyes to stop the tears from escaping. “Thank you, Patty.”

  

  “You are very welcome. After all, that’s what friends are for, but call me Patty again,” her chunky side-kick dead-panned, waving her letter opener like a sword, “and I will gut you like a pig.”

  

  Moriah jumped up, throwing her arms as far around her chubby friend as she could reach. Squeezing her in a tight hug, she howled with laughter at the unexpectedness of her pal’s ridiculous threat. She felt the tremors of humor Patricia could not subdue and laughed even harder. “You fake! You are so good for me! Thank you.”

  

  Their laughter had lightened the tension. “That laugh did me good. Now, though, I have about five minutes to get my act together. I’d better get to work.”

  

  Rattling off a series of orders pertaining to the upcoming presentation, she removed her traveling shoes and slipped on a pair of dark green heels to match her suit. Snatching up a brush, she browbeat her auburn cloud of unruly curls into a tight chignon. She clipped a pewter barrette to the base of the slippery mass, hoping the hairdo would hold through the meeting.

  

  Mind occupied on the strategy she planned to use, she buttoned up her lace blouse, shutting away any hint of cleavage. Donning a pair of classic gold earrings, she moved back over to the mirror.

  

  “Can you get me the M&N file dated 10-17-13? And call Roddy to verify the fire-wall is set-up exactly as I specified.”

  

  She heard the secretary’s customary snort at the sound of Roderick Hall’s nickname.

  

  “What delusions of grandeur inhabit that man’s mind, to go around calling himself Roddy? I’d like to see his rod just once…” she glanced up, her blue eyes and rosy face radiating innocence, “for proof, is all,” she added when Moriah’s involuntary chuckle reached her. “Oh, hush that giggling and turn around so I can see what repairs you still need.”

  

  A quick swipe of cheery berry lipstick completed her power look and Moriah obediently spun about with her arms wide. “How do I look?”

  

  “Like the hands down winner of the M.V.P. award,” Patricia prophesied with an admiring smile, dropping the heavy folder onto her friend’s outstretched hands. “Knock ‘em dead, Lady.”

  

  Moriah froze. The color leeched from her face, leaving her skin blanched and waxen. Her fingers went slack, losing their grip on the bulging file. It slid from her grasp to hit the floor, papers cascading from it like the last fall of winter’s leaves. She stood there shaking; skin pebbling with goose bumps, chilled by the touch of a deadly wind.

  

  “Great Lord and Lady, Moriah, look what you’ve done!” Patricia exclaimed, watching the papers explode every which way. Dropping to her knees, she began quickly shoving the papers back into their folder. “We’ll never get this report back together in time for the meeting.”

  

  One shaking hand gripped the kneeling woman’s shoulder, bringing her movements to a halt. Slim fingers dug into the soft flesh in warning. “You must never call me ‘Lady’, Patricia,” she whispered through bloodless lips. “Not even in jest. There might be… repercussions…persons listening and hearing what we don’t want them to hear.”

  

  Her hands stilling on the papers, the secretary nodded. Moriah could almost see her intelligent brain working overtime. Finally, still avoiding her eyes, Patricia said quietly, “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

  

  Gathering up all the papers and tucking them back in the folder as best she could, she got to her feet with a little huff of exertion. Extending the bulging file, she said, “Here you are… again. And you’d better get going. The Sexless Pricks are probably shitting bricks by now.”

  

  The insubordinate title surprised a laugh out of Moriah. Rolling her eyes, she sputtered between giggles, “What am I to do with you? You are incorrigible!”

  

  “Go get us a raise!”

  

  “I shall certainly try.”

  

  “And get us some decent coffee.”

  

  Straightening her shoulders, she shifted the file to the bend of her right arm and hefted her briefcase in her left hand. Closing her eyes, she mouthed a brief prayer. Lord and Lady, don’t let my magick go haywire this morning. I can’t afford to blow this.

  

  *****

  

  Ten men were seated at the long table when she walked in to the large conference room. Engaged in what seemed to be a heated conversation, they glanced up absently, then, in concert, snapped their heads around for a second, prolonged look. As if responding to the direction of a conductor’s baton, they came to their feet in concert, all ten pairs of eyes widening as they swept the svelte, ultra feminine figure of the talented R&D Department Head of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations.

  

  Mr. Athemay, the least senior member of the company, made the introductions. “Miss Morris, allow me to present Mr. Nathan Gerhard and Blythe Turnery of Micronsoft Operating Spells, along with their personal assistants, the brothers, Mr. Thomas and Anthony Ranger.”

  

  He waited while she acknowledged the men and returned their greetings before gesturing at the remaining men. “These other gentlemen, Mr. Ronald Eddies and Mr. Sebastian Campbell represent Norton Anti-Conjure-Virus. Their personal assistant is Mr. Arnott Blathenby. You already know Mr. Athencrombie and Mr. Jonathans.”

  

  She flashed them all a wide, welcoming smile, subliminally aware of the rise of testosterone in the room. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  

  Bringing up her wrist, she consulted her watch. “Ah! It is nine-thirty and we are right on schedule. If you gentlemen will please be seated, we can get started.”

  

  She made a show of spreading out her files and records as she waited for the men to get settled. Once the noise level abated, she lifted her head and made a visual sweep of the table, meeting the eyes of each man in turn.

  

  “First, let me just say that the firm of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay are proud that you considered us as the provider for your business needs. After you witness the demonstration we have planned for you this morning, I believe you will agree with me that our firm is capable of meeting any challenge. Well, time is money, so let’s get started.”

  

  Pressing a button on the control panel before her, she lowered the lights in the room, turning on the projector at the same time. The quiet mechanism hummed as the screen lowered along the wide back wall of the conference room. “If I can direct your attention to the screen…” Modulating her speaking voice to ensure the soothing tones did not detract from the information, she started the short power-point presentation she had prepared. “You can see that the number one growing irritant to personal computer operators is the threat of being hacked and infected by a malicious virus.”

  

  Click.

  

  “This chart shows the dramatic increase in viral infections over the last three years.”

  

  Click.

  

  “This next chart shows the decreased level of sales for Norton Anti-Conjure-Virus over the last three seasons, due to the inability of your software-based protection to prevent the incursion of the more sophisticated viruses.”

  

  Click.

  

  “Now, this following chart graphs the monetary loss incurred by Micronsoft Spells due to the destruction of information stored in their gigantic central mainframe computer after a remote viral infection was detonated in the matrix of your CPU. This particular attack was only one of five successful incursions during the last four years. Each one has caused increased damage.”

  

  Click.

  

  “These are the projected earnings and loss figures for the current season and the next three years, based on the present climate of consumer dissatisfaction. Micronsoft’s figures are displayed on the left, Norton’s on the right. As you can see, the numbers decrease steadily, taking a sharp dive in the middle of the third year.”

  

  Click.

  

  “This last chart is an extrapolation of data collected on the pattern of viral infections: the general areas of the country where they seem to originate as well as the time of year they peak. Notice the star-burst patterns that mark the areas here, here and here…” She used the laser pointer to pinpoint her selections. “Do you see the significant placements? The major starbursts all have concentric centers. This means there is a center from which these viruses are flowing. The evidence suggests each starburst is the work of one hacker. What this means is that one person or entity is responsible for generating numerous attacks. The problem is not the virus. As always, the problem is the carrier. Stop the hackers, make their fun unprofitable and eventually you stop the viral infections. “

  

  Click.

  

  She allowed the men to contemplate the evidence her team had gathered. As resounding silence reigned, she pushed the buttons that shut off the projector, retracted the screen and brought up the lights.

  

  “Gentlemen, these attacks by criminals unknown but not unknowable is costing your companies millions. It is costing the general public billions because like all profit-minded companies, Micronsoft and Norton pass their losses on to their clients—the end consumers.”

  

  Moriah pulled out the wheeled chair by her side and gracefully sat down. Crossing her right leg over her left, she flexed her left foot, setting the chair swinging lightly. The side-to-side motion caused her breasts to sway in a smooth gentle shifting of mounds. Once she saw the men’s eyes were riveted, she brought her chair to a halt.

  

  “Gentlemen, you came to us because you realized this anarchy must stop. You approached us in tandem because you expected the potential cost of a product capable of dealing effectively with hackers would be enormously expensive if bankrolled by just one company. And you were correct.”

  

  Pushing up from the chair, she placed both hands on the conference table and leaned close to deliver her announcement. “Imagine being the first companies to go public with a guaranteedfirewall. Imagine a firewall that not only stops an incursion, but targets the originator of the virus, putting them out of commission. Safely open attachments and store your information. Safe Internet surfing, peace of mind… What would it be worth? What are you willing to pay?”

  

  “Providing you could actually deliver such a firewall, we would be willing to pay two billion dollars.” Blythe Turnery of Micronsoft met her eyes. His pale blue gaze held wariness and hope in equal measure.

  

  Ronald Eddies stood up. “Each company. I will not lie. Such a sum is a sizable chunk of our operating budget. However, if the hackers can be stopped and the viruses can be contained, we stand to make that much and more in the first quarter, providing the spell cannot be duplicated.”

  

  “I have developed the answer to your dilemma. And I tell you, it will—”

  

  Pandemonium broke loose.

  

  “Is it possible?”

  

  “Show us!”

  

  “Brava, Miss Morris!”

  

  “I don’t believe it!”

  

  Moriah waved a nonchalant hand, signaling for quiet. “Oh, it is very possible, Mr. Gerhard…very possible, indeed. There’s just one thing—” she paused with intrinsic dramatic timing.

  

  Flipping a toggle on the control panel, she opened a channel on the intercom board. “Roddy, initiate the first phase of the Anti-Virus Containment Program demonstration…and for the goddess’ sake, find me a decent cup of coffee: black, two sugars.”

  

  “ Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

  

  Moriah turned back to the men. “Please take a ten minute refreshment break while we complete the setup. Mr. Gerhard, did you bring the items we requested?”

  

  “Yes. I left them with the receptionist.”

  

  A smile blossomed. “Thank you.”

  

  She turned to the Senior Partners. “If I might, I need to speak to you privately, sirs.”

  

  As they stepped out into the hall, a tall black gangly man rushed up and passed Moriah the requested cup of coffee. She wrapped her hands around the steaming mug and took a tentative sip. “Ah! That’s the real thing! Thank you, Roddy.”

  

  “You are welcome, Mo.” He settled his thick-lensed glasses on his nose in a habitual move. “And we are set, whenever you give the word.”

  

  “Wonderful. Did you pick up the computers left with the receptionist?”

  

  The man slanted an admonitory look at her. “Didn’t I just say everything is ready?”

  

  She made an apologetic moue. “So you did. Thank you, again.”

  

  He flipped a jaunty salute before turning to make his way back down the hall.

  

  Reginald Jonathans, the most senior partner, cleared his throat. “What was it you needed to speak with us about, Miss Morris?”

  

  Moriah looked at him, smothering the desire to smirk. The pompous ass thought every word out of his mouth so important he had to introduce them with a throat clearance. She straightened her shoulders and renewed her resolve. Patricia had asked her to get them a raise. She planned to do better than that.

  

  “I want a partnership. And I want one of those four billion dollars Micronsoft and Norton are offering.”

  

  Chapter Four

  

  Tuesday, October 26, 12:47 p. m. (Northerlands time)

  

  Across the International date line.

  

   

  

  “Listen up, bone head! I’m not going to the Northwest Coast. There are three more Districts I have to check out here in the Northerlands.” Without giving the caller a chance to respond, Wylder flipped his cell phone closed, disconnecting the call. Picking up his fork, he recommenced his meal, groaning in epicurean delight as a bite of tender veal melted on his tongue. Cleansing his palate with a swallow of Vigne’s celebrated red wine, he speared a couple of braised mushrooms in butter sauce.

  

  Ah! Exquisite flavor.

  

  He didn’t give a damn about the Council’s public obligations. He only had seven days left to find his Lady. No way in hell was he interrupting his search just to pull their bacon out of the fire. If he hadn’t almost passed out from hunger earlier today, he wouldn’t have even stopped for this meal. Let someone else go. As soon as he finished eating, he would hit the streets again, checking a few spots he had overlooked the first time he searched.

  

  He cursed when his personal communicator rang again. He ignored it. The council had to learn that when he said no, he meant no.

  

  It rang again. He managed to ignore it.

  

  The next time it rang, he turned the phone off.

  

  When the damned phone rang again, glowing with the insignia of the Council’s Sigil, he blasted the thing with a bolt of hot energy and dropped it, smoking, into his water glass. Grinning as he did so, he mimicked the phone recording that he most hated hearing. “The mobile customer you are attempting to contact is not available. Please try your call again later.”

  

  Halfway through his meal, just as he lifted a forkful of penne pasta with pesto to his mouth, a form sparkled into being on the chair across from him. With an exasperated sigh, he shoved the bite in his mouth and chewed angrily, determined to finish this meal.

  

  “We’ve had a formal request from the San Francisco S.W.A.T. for an expert consultant to confer with them about an out-of-control Salamander.”

  

  “Well, hell!” Mouth twisting in a moue of disgust, Wylder threw down his utensils. “I am really trying not to give in to anger, here, Judith, but this is the first meal I’ve stopped for in two days. You’re ruining it.”

  

  Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he ignored his empty glass to reach for the nearly full wine bottle sitting on the table. Tipping the bottle back, he took several hefty swigs before slamming the bottle down. Settling back in his chair, he glared at the Council representative seated across from him. “How dare you hologram me?”

  

  “You hung up on us.”

  

  “Duh, Sherlock!”

  

  “You ignored our subsequent calls.”

  

  He widened his eyes. “No! Did I do that?”

  

  “Then something happened to your phone and we could not get through at all.”

  

  He pointed to his water glass, indicating the floating phone. “And that should have told you …?”

  

  “It told me you were being your normal, arrogant pain in the ass.” Her lips tightened and she turned her head to the side, addressing someone out of his range of vision. “He’s destroyed the phone. Wasn’t that Council property? I say fine his ass and take the actual cost out of his pay, as well.”

  

  He kissed the air. “I love you, too.”

  

  She turned back to him, a sober look on her face. “I no longer love you.”

  

  “Thank the goddess! Because, honestly, about that ‘I love you’…? I was joking, just so there is NO confusion.” Wylder saluted her with the bottle before taking another swig. “See, in the heat of the moment, back there at Council Headquarters, I forgot to qualify my boon. I’ve been terrified ever since that you’d demand I fuck you or something and I don’t do mated women.”

  

  Judith shook her head, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “There are two very good advantages to being married and mated with Lemuel. The first is that as a shifter, he can shift everything.” She leaned close, waggling her eyebrows. “I’m talking any size I want, here—impressive, fulfilling, satisfying size.” Sighing, she sat back. “The second thing is that Lemuel really, honest-to-the-goddess loves me. He knows all my faults, my past and my ego. And he doesn’t care about any of that. Well…” she glanced up at Wylder with a diffident expression, “he knows we’ve been lovers. He does care about that.”

  

  He straightened up in his chair. “No wonder the poor schmuck hates me. Damn it, Judith, we were together in the ancient past. Why did you go and tell him something like that?”

  

  “Because before we married, he came to me and promised to forgive everything I revealed to him at that time, to throw a blanket of pardon over all my sins.” Her lips turned up in a soft smile. “He offered me redemption when I needed it most, Wylder. I love him for that and a hundred other reasons. I even love that he acts jealous of you when there’s no reason. He honestly believes no man, having once had me, could endure not having me again. In his eyes, I am irresistible. Isn’t that sweet?”

  

  “Saccharine.” Wylder grimaced. “Listen, Judith, we committed no sin because neither of us were mated or promised when we fucked each other. So why in blue hells did you have to tell Little Mule anythingabout us? I’ve endured years of sniping because you bloody well couldn’t keep your trap shut.”

  

  “I don’t like you calling him that name,” she snapped, banging her fist on the table. “You better not do it again. And while we’re at it…the next time you manhandle my mate, I’m going to take a bloody chunk out of your raw hide, or die trying.”

  

  “Done! I shall never call him by that name again.” He laughed, thankful his impulsive promise had proven this easy to discharge. “Thanks for being your normal ditzy self and wasting your boon on such an asinine command.”

  

  “What? Wait! That’s not fair, Wylder! You can’t hold me to that. I demand another favor.” She pouted, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  

  Wylder sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, looking up past the ceiling. “Lord? Lady? Help me out, here,” he pleaded, recalling why he had never been interested in more than a quick fling with Judith. She might burn up the sheets, but her wit had always left much to be desired. He needed more from a woman than good sex. He needed a woman who cared and thought about others, who reached out when she saw a need…

  

  “The ritual bath is really to ensure the candidate that the chosen male is clean. I do not doubt your cleanliness, but offer my service as a thank you. I wish to soothe and pamper and relax the man who is kindly lending his body for the use of a woman he knows little of. Come, Ethan, and allow me to bathe you…”

  

  He glanced down in chagrin, unable to subdue his lusting cock. The hard, ready erection stood defiantly rampant, the broad, mushroom-head ruddy with blood, slippery with the first drops of pre-cum. “Your hands on me may prove too much for my self control.”

  

  “Let us prepare each other. I fear your sword is over-long for my sheath. I will need to be well lubricated if I am to impale myself on your blade, bold sir. We need to lesson your girth. Let me draw off some of this fullness.”

  

  Gods, the feel of her soft mouth encasing his hardness, of her fingers tenderly tracing the throbbing veins of his shaft, of her lips, wrapping around his sensitive head, scorching him with pressure and heat…

  

  “Did you hear me, Wylder?”

  

  He blinked. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he fought the anger welling in him, resenting her interference. He hated she snatched him away from his memories. They were all that he had left of his absent mate. “No, Judith, I didn’t hear you.”

  

  “I don’t see how you can claim a simple request for politeness as the usage of my boon. You have no business calling Lemuel by those horrid names, and you know it. I want my boon back. I shall never forgive you if you don’t give it back.”

  

  He sighed. “Judith, take your boon back, and be damned to you. My dinner is cold and inedible. My patience is worn thin. Just tell me what the Council wants and leave me the hell alone.”

  

  “Well!” she huffed. “Hologramming is not easy, you know. I am expending magick and energy to bring you an important message and this is the thanks I get!”

  

  “I’m sorry, all right? I am sorry you came. The sooner you report, the sooner you can leave. Now, spit it out.”

  

  “You need to go to San Francisco.”

  

  “No.” He picked up his fork and speared a chunk of meat.

  

  “Yes. Go right now, Wylder. In fact, leave immediately.”

  

  Huffing in exasperation, he flung the fork back down where it clattered dangerously against the costly porcelain plate. “Judith, I know you have difficulty understanding the simplest phrases so I want you to listen very carefully. When one puts ‘N’ and ‘O’ together, it means—”

  

  “It means you better hop your arrogant, insulting ass on the fastest transport headed to the West Coast because your busted-up magick will not let you teleport instantaneously.”

  

  Wylder blinked. He had never seen Judith so worked up. He eyed her warily; hoping someone on the other side monitored her status. It looked to him as if she might have a seizure of some type. “You don’t need to go there—”

  

  “Shut up. I’m not finished.” She ticked points off her fingers. “It means you leave today, right now, because it will take at least a day to arrive. It means you report to the San Francisco Police Department S.W.A.T. Division because they have identified the magick signature of that wild Salamander. And it is yours.” She leaned back in her chair and smirked at him. “It means we now have a location for your missing—!”

  

  Wylder burst through the doors of the restaurant. With a jubilant laugh, he ignored Judith’s projected sputtering, “Humph! Well, damn it! Go ahead, Wylder. Just run off and leave me with your friggin’ check! This restaurant had better take credit, cause a hologram sure the hell can’t hand over any money!”

  

  *****

  

  “Have you lost your damned mind, young woman?”

  

  “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Athencrombie.”

  

  “So you think you can swivel your sexy hips and we will just hand over a billiondollars?” The second senior partner of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations snarled at her, hands fisted, pumping the air, his normal aplomb shattered by her unexpected bombshell.

  

  “On the contrary, I think you will pay me a billion dollars because I am worth it, have earned it, and will take my invention elsewhere if you do not.”

  

  “Elsewhere…how dare you threaten us?” Jonathans and Athencrombie sputtered in unison. Behind their backs, gentle Mr. Athemay smiled fleetingly, averting his head.

  

  “No threat, gentlemen. My personal work does not belong to this firm. I am fully prepared and legally capable of taking it elsewhere.”

  

  “You have a contract, you sluttish industry pirate. If you attempt to break it, we will drag you through the courts for the rest of your life.”

  

  Moriah sucked in her bottom lip, trying and failing to hold back her anger. She raised a finger, wishing she were crass enough for it to be the middle one. “You know, I am getting tired of your insults. One more and I will increase my demand to two billion dollars.”

  

  “Two billion—! Why, that’s highway robbery. We won’t pay it.”

  

  She took a deep breath. “That will be your choice, sir. My loyalty to this firm is the only reason I offered you first refusal. I will take my invention to Micronsoft and Norton as a personal venture and sell them the process outright. I am sure they will be willing to pay me the four billion dollars on the table in negotiations right now.”

  

  “Some loyalty,” Jonathans huffed. “I repeat, you have a contract with our firm. We willhold you to it.”

  

  Moriah laughed. “You may certainly try. I don’t have a contract with this firm. There is nothing in print regarding any ideas or inventions I develop while working here. And the reason there is no contract, Mr. Jonathans and Mr. Athencrombie is because I was not hired by this firm as the head of R & D.”

  

  “What?”

  

  “Why, that is preposterous.”

  

  “I agree. Your chief developer quit when you wouldn’t allow him time off for his honeymoon, leaving his lowly assistant—me—to hold down the fort. I spoke with Mr. Athemay five months ago, telling him I had been covering the position for over a month and felt I deserved a raise.”

  

  The other two men turned to glare at Athemay.

  

  “William, don’t look at me like that! I came to both of you and told you the assistant had asked for a raise. You both voted to make her prove her right to hold the position.”

  

  “Athemay, you are a damn fool. Why didn’t you inform us the head of the department had quit?”

  

  “I did. At the same time, I told you Miss Morris was doing an excellent job and advised we confirm her in the position and draw up a new contract. Both of you vetoed that suggestion. Yousaid having a woman in that position wouldn’t look good for the firm. I believe your final comment had something to do with making more profit by keeping her acting as head and paying her less. By our own folly, we left Miss Morris a free agent.”

  

  A sick expression contorted Athencrombie’s features as he recalled the conversation and he cleared his throat. Jonathans pursed his lip, obviously trying to think of a way around the situation.

  

  Moriah glanced at her watch. “In a moment, the representatives from Micronsoft and Norton are going to start getting antsy. At that point, I am going to rescind my offer to broker my invention through this firm. I have been patient and more than fair with you. What is your answer?”

  

  “There will be no partnership, Missy.”

  

  “Fine. I don’t really want to work with you, anyway. However, in lieu of the position, I will require an additional half billion dollars.”

  

  “Now see here—!”

  

  “No! You see here. No part of my request is open to negotiation. By the goddess! You guys are like Scrooge before the ghosts’ visit—stingy and crotchety and totally unaware of what is going on in the real world.” She smiled over at the most junior senior partner. “Mr. Athemay exempted, of course.”

  

  “That is a pretty speech, but it does not mean a hill of beans. We shall simply seize all the notes and information which rightly belongs to this firm. After all, you worked on this project on company time.”

  

  Moriah started shaking her head before he could finish. “Sorry, Mr. Jonathans, but that isn’t true. Mr. Athencrombie tabled this project before I came on board, in favor of working on the problem of spell aphids in the Duchess of Chicago’s prized rose garden. I discovered the proposal in the archives and found it intriguing. Mr. Breen gave me permission to tinker with it, provided I did not waste company time on it.”

  

  The corner of Moriah’s lips twitched as she watched them struggle with the inevitable. Jonathans looked like he wanted to throttle her. Athencrombie’s face burned bright red with anger. Recalling how they had treated her, her lips tightened and she steadied her resolve. Giving in to the devilish imp riding her shoulder, she decided to twist the knife in their wounds.

  

  “The only part of this project your firm is entitled to is the information I have already shared in the conference room. My part of this project is already patented and held solely in my name. The magick twined throughout this software spell prevents even a knowledgeable practitioner from extrapolating by reverse process how the basic program is structured.”

  

  Hearing that bit of information, the two men’s shoulders slumped. Behind their backs, Athemay clapped silently and gave her the thumbs up sign for victory.

  

  The two senior-most partners did not know it, but they owed her offer to the kindness of the gentle Mr. Athemay. If not for his fairness and attempts at getting her the raise she deserved, she would have taken her discovery and sold it on the open market.

  

  Jonathans and Athencrombie looked so dejected she couldn’t stand it. Sighing in disgust, she wished she could be a total hard-ass and really make them suffer. Another look at their hangdog faces had her accepting she simply did not have it in her to be Super Bitch. Damn it, anyway.

  

  “Look, come watch the demonstration. At the end, you can inform the two companies that more money will be required. I promise you, they may howl, but they willcome to the table.” She paused and then, after a moment’s thought added, “I will license the process to you for a certain amount of time, after which, it will revert back to me. You’ll have earned more money than the company ever has before, and Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay:Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations will forever have the cachet of being the company that released the major industrial computing innovation of the twenty-first century.”

  

  Jonathans brightened marginally, eyes wary. “Your project is that good?”

  

  A wide grin stretched her mouth. “Yes, it is.”

  

  “Then let’s have a look at it. If it is all you tout it to be, you’ll have your 1.5 billion dollars. If it’s not, you can consider yourself fired.”

  

  *****

  

  Moriah could feel the exhilaration and excitement electrifying the room. Seven men sat with their mouths hanging open, eyes sparkling with visions of dollar signs. The other three sat huddled in a secluded corner, words flying between them. One held a pad on his knee, scribbling madly as the others rattled off figures with giddy greed.

  

  “Could we see that one more time, please?” Blythe Turnery’s face wore a happy, hopeful look. Like a kid in a toy shop, he rode the edge of his seat, almost bouncing with impatience.

  

  Moriah felt a little giddy, herself. The representatives of Micronsoft and Norton were salivating at the chance to market her software. Feeling momentarily lightheaded with relief, she leaned against the table.

  

  Thank the Lord and Lady. I can support myself and Nyla, no matter what happens in eight days time.

  

  She couldn’t believe how well the first demonstration had gone off. Of course, she had expected it to work, had seen it in action several times, knew her work was solid and sound. Still, watching the faces and reactions of these hardened, experienced businessmen as they viewed and evaluated her discovery made her heart soar with pride and hope.

  

  “Miss Morris…?”

  

  She snapped out of her happy fugue. “Yes, Mr. Turnery, Roddy is readying the second demonstration, now.” His face betrayed his surprise at her forward thinking so she answered his unspoken question. “I was fairly sure you would want to see it a second time, which is why I requested you to bring more than one computer.”

  

  “We did not mind supplying the units, but did wonder why you hadn’t gotten them yourself.”

  

  “Very simply, we did not want the question of the machines being tampered with to be an issue. The seals you placed on the computers remain intact, proof that we have not accessed the panel. If you wish to endanger your own handheld, we could use that. It makes no difference what kind of computer issues the viral command. The Antibodysoftware will react using the same criteria: seek and destroy.”

  

  “Magnificent!”

  

  As they waited for the second demonstration, she pointed out some extra details. “You will be glad to know I have designed this program to be a continuous money maker. It can be coded to deactivate according to the distributor’s will. That means it can be priced to fit the budget of all consumers. Code it to deactivate in six months and charge one fee. Code it to last a year, the fee goes up. And so on, and so on…”

  

  “What about the vehicle to deliver the software? Will it transport over a simple floppy or CD?”

  

  Roddy stuck his head around the corner. “Ready when you are, acting-boss.”

  

  “Thank you, Roddy.”

  

  Pressing the button that retracted the panels to reveal the room next door, she moved over to the computer console and sat down. Turning to the men she asked, “Shall we do this again…?”

  

  They quickly jumped up and ordered themselves about the computer, watching her closely.

  

  She brought out a disk and slid it into the floppy drive. “This software version is for the sole purpose of this demonstration, so is coded to last for only five minutes. Upon installation, the execution commands will self-destruct within fifteen seconds. Earlier, you asked about floppies vs. CDs. Keep your manufacturing costs to a minimum and use floppies. Two minutes after the product is installed, there will be nothing on the disk to copy. Cuts down on pirating…”

  

  “That is an ingenious device, Miss Morris.”

  

  “Thank you, Mr. Gerhard.”

  

  She tapped a few keys in response to the on-screen prompts. She could have done everything in less than twelve seconds, but this demonstration needed to be paced slowly enough for the representatives to follow and understand each phase of the operation.

  

  “Roddy, engage the fire wall, now, please.” She released the intercom button and sat back.

  

  In the next room, a clear box descended from the ceiling, the four sides locking into place in the grooves designed to bear their weight. An IBM wannabe rested on a clear pillar in the center of the box, its base made out of the same material as the box.

  

  “All right, Mr. Eddies, please beam the virus file over to the computer using your handheld, as you did before.” She glanced up and around. “Recall, gentlemen, the computer behind the fire wall is not protected with the Antibodyprogram, so Mr. Eddies’ handheld is safe.” She waited for the nervous laughter to die down and then continued. “Mr. Eddies is beaming a virus to the computer. I will access the same computer remotely, opening the e-mail program and telling it to send the infected file to the receptionist’s computer. She will forward the message as soon as it arrives to my console, here. When it reaches this protected computer, the virus will not only be blocked, it will be analyzed, tracked, and destroyed.”

  

  She pushed the button.

  

  A moment later, her computer whirred and announced, You’ve got mail!

  

  Less than a minute later, a bright red banner flashed across her computer monitor.

  

  Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!

  

  In the room next door, a white-hot flare filled the box. When the mist cleared, only the base of the pillar remained. The computer had been totally vaporized.

  

  Intruder neutralized.

  

  “You will notice that the computer passing the virus along was not affected. The program magickly tracks the virus to its source and destroys that source.”

  

  Moriah shut her computer down and turned to face the men, hands folded in her lap. “For this demonstration, we used a strong blast—an explosion—to cause a greater impact upon the viewers. Much as we might be tempted to, we cannot have a computer program destroying public property and endangering lives, so the public version of the Antibodyprogram will destroy only the computer by implosion. Not even the hacker will be harmed.” She smiled. “The Attorney General of the Northwestern Division has promised to give this program his personal seal of approval, and to recommend the government purchases this program to protect their military installations. So you may be sure it complies with all safety laws throughout the World Divisions.”

  

  “Congratulations, Miss Morris. You have managed to engineer a perfect blending of Homo sapienstechnology with Homo magnusMagicks, and I predict your discovery will revolutionize the computer world.” Mr. Gerhard rubbed his hands together, smiling all over his face. “I know Steve is going to want this. I came here with the power to sign and I am now more than ready to do so. When can your company deliver?”

  

  Mr. Jonathans stood up. Facial expression cunning, he shook his head at the Micronsoft representative. “I am afraid we have run into a minor glitch…namely, Miss Morris. She has decided to act as an independent contractor and is demanding her fees up front, which means the amount you indicated earlier is no longer adequate to close this deal.”

  

  The four reps glanced over at Moriah. Mr. Gerhard walked over and offered his hand, winking at her. “Going out on your own is a bold move worthy of Steve. I am always pleased to deal with a woman gifted with brains as well as beauty.”

  

  She felt the heat of a blush warm her cheeks. She never would have guessed Mr. Gerhard harbored respect and liking for her. His praise and warm wishes surprised the hell out of her. “Thank you Mr. Gerhard. I hadn’t realized how charming you could be.”

  

  Still holding her hand, Gerhard looked back at the senior partners. “I am sure I speak for both Norton and Micronsoft when I assure you we will meet your price with very little haggling.” Turning back to Moriah he cocked his head. “Be sure to keep us in mind for any future projects you might develop in our field.”

  

  “I’ll do that, sir.” Bemused, she automatically shook his hand before retrieving hers.

  

  “One more thing, Miss Morris…”

  

  She cocked an eyebrow in silent query.

  

  “Might I be so bold as to ask what you are demanding in fees?”

  

  She lifted her chin and met his eyes straight on. “I asked for one point five billion dollars.”

  

  Clapping broke out in the room and she blinked away tears as she accepted the men’s good wishes.

  

  “Brava, Miss Morris!”

  

  “Well deserved…and well earned!”

  

  “Way to go!”

  

  With all the congratulations and praise being heaped upon her, she didn’t give a damn that Jonathans and Athencrombie abstained. She gathered her things together and excused herself, heading back to her office with all speed. She couldn’t wait to share her news with Roddy and Patricia.

  

  She giggled all the way down the hall.

  

  *****

  

  The door to the office flew back on its hinges and slammed into the wall behind it.

  

  Patricia Black looked up from her typing to see Moriah standing in the door, hands fisted at her hips in a classic superman pose. The secretary’s eyebrows rose as she noticed the look in her friend’s eyes. The woman positively glowed.

  

  Her gray eyes sparkling with excitement and joy, face lit up like the sun, Moriah flashed her killer smile.

  

  “Judging by the look on your face, I take it the demonstrations went well.”

  

  Giddy laughter met her query. “Girl, have I got a tale to tell you…!”

  

  “Go ahead, then. I can see you are bursting to share your triumph.”

  

  “Uh, uh,” Moriah shook her head, a dimple dancing in her cheek. “Not here. Hurry and get your time card, grab your purse and let’s get the hell out of here! I’m treating you and Roddy to lunch!”

  

  Closing down the computer and clearing away her unfinished work, she pointed out that if all of them left for lunch at the same time, the office would be understaffed. “In fact, there won’t be anyone here to man the desk. “

  

  “After today, we will no longer concern ourselves about manning the desk at Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay:Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations, my good woman.”

  

  Patricia froze in the midst of reaching for her purse, a sick feeling crawling up her innards. “What are you saying, Moriah? I told you to get us a raise, not get us fired!”

  

  “Humph! I did not get us fired.”

  

  “Thank the goddess.”

  

  “We didn’t get a raise, either.”

  

  “No luck with the raise, huh?” she sighed. “I guess we didn’t get the upgrade in coffee, either.” Shrugging her shoulders, she flung out her hands. “Well, at least we still have a job.”

  

  “No, we don’t. We quit!”

  

  “We what…?”

  

  The startled scream came out garbled, choked by the panic closing off her throat. Thoughts of over-due rent and looming utility bills danced before her eyes as she whispered in shock, “Mother of Magick, Moriah…what have you done?”

  

  She barely registered Moriah placing her purse in her hand, or the firm palm guiding her fingers closed about the handle. That same hand tugged her through the door into the hall, where Roddy waited, grinning like a loon.

  

  “Okay, here’s the most important question of the day…” Moriah chirped, walking backward down the corridor, skipping every step or so. Patricia could almost see the energy pulsating through her body. Glancing over at Roddy, she raised her russet eyebrows in silent question. Has she lost it?

  

  Roddy shook his head, grin widening. As usual, the admiring glint in his dark brown eyes unnerved her. Flustered, she turned back to her friend, only to find Moriah eyeing her with a decidedly wicked gleam in her dancing gray orbs. Something was definitely afoot…

  

  “If I start your yearly salary at two hundred thousand dollars, do I get to call you Patty?”

  

  Her eyes crossed with shock. She clutched one hand to her heart; certain it had stopped beating, until she realized the booming in her ears was her pulse pounding in her throat. Never overlong at a loss for words, she blurted out, “That would be Patti with an ‘i’ …by cell phone, once a day and twice on Sundays.”

  

  Chapter Five

  

  Monday, October 25, 3:50 p.m. (Northwestern Division time)

  

   

  

  San Francisco baked under a 115-degree heat. The very air hummed, simmering with the aroma of magick.

  

  Coming out of the air-conditioned coolness of SF Galactic Airport the same day he had abruptly left the Northerlands, Wylder stopped dead, chuckling under his breath.

  

  It never failed to amuse him what one could do with enough magick and money. His magick may be on the blink, but his bank accounts were full. He had happily paid a ridiculous six figure sum to the Northwestern Division’s Government to officially stowaway on a Military Matter Transfer ship scheduled to arrive in San Francisco in the late afternoon of the same day.

  

  Traveling backwards across the International Dateline had given him back a day of searching. Hopefully, he would not need the extra day. With luck and blessings from the goddess, he would quickly discover the whereabouts of his elusive Morven, who must be somewhere close; he could almost feel her presence, scent her essence.

  

  Goddess, but the smell and taste of her pussy had been the sweetest, most succulent I had ever tasted. How have I lasted a year without her?

  

  Though bothersome to the extreme on one hand, her almost yearlong absence had astonished and impressed him. He already knew her to be highly intelligent, but by easily eluding the best magickal trackers and skryers, Morven Maganistus had also proven her capability and resourcefulness. He should not have been surprised. After all, it had been her intelligence, over and above her lush beauty, that had attracted him to her from the first.

  

  He recalled the day she had walked into his classroom, a shy, diffident first year student at Cambridge Conjuration College, a good four or five years older than the normal run of freshmen. It had been a rare, sunny day and he had immediately noticed her shining cap of mahogany curls, lit to bright fire by the rays of the mid-morning sun. Her light gray eyes set off by her beautiful dark mahogany hair sparkled with lively curiosity, lending animation and humanity to an otherwise unearthly beautiful face.

  

  He soon discovered she had a habit of pursing her pouty lips whenever she pondered a difficult spell or ran mental calculations. Her full, sensuous mouth, made for kissing and other things, had quickly come to figure largely in his nightly dreams.

  

  During the four years he had been one of her teachers and banned from making any sexual overtures, he had spent many a night palming his aching hard on, pumping it to completion while he fantasized sliding his cock between those pursed lips, feeding all eleven inches into her hot wet mouth. He dreamed of taking her slim, curvy figure to the floor, the bed, the table…anywhere…and easing his perpetually hard, thick cock into her tight, untried channel.

  

  For four long years, he had gone without sex, growing increasingly frustrated and angry over his inability to work up any desire for the sophisticated, worldly-wise women who flung themselves at him, eager to brag about having been fucked by the most powerful Warlock in the world, the Council’s Assassin. Before Morven, he had used those women to slake his sexual thirst, feeling no compunction about the occasional one-night stands.

  

  Since meeting and interacting with her, learning the intricately detailed nuances of her wonderful spirit, reveling in the depths of her almost limitless magickal potential, his wayward cock had formed different needs, come to revere a different ideal. His taste now ran to one intelligent, leggy, rangy girl-woman, slim, yet curved and rounded in all the right places.

  

  She walked into the classroom and he became hard.

  

  She spoke and his cock leaked pre-cum.

  

  She smiled and he faced the real danger of coming in his jeans.

  

  And she had not the slightest idea of his raging lust for her.

  

  For four years, they spent time together as student and teacher, five days a week.

  

  He threw a private pocket-pool party the night she had agreed to discharge her clinicals by working as his teaching assistant during her fifth year. His poor cock had been raw when he finished fisting it. He had come so hard, his legs gave out and he had slumped to the floor of the shower, too weak to move.

  

  No longer off-limits to him romantically, he tried his hand at gently courting Morven. Having had no prior desire or experience in courting and romance, he felt lost and often frustrated at her lack of response. Because of that, he fought to rein in his escalating need for her. He ignored his churning gut, discounted the heavy weightiness of his sperm filled balls. He disregarded the way his throbbing cock ached from the constricting pinch of the tight jeans he preferred.

  

  Had his need been merely sexual he might not have been so concerned, but along with the desire to sink into her and fuck her into oblivion, he felt a growing, consuming urge to share his life with her totally. He wanted to reveal his inmost thoughts to her, to show her the man he hid from the rest of the world and that irresistible desire scared the hell out of him. Because, he knew, the person he hid from the rest of the world did not deserve her love.

  

  Despite his fears and second thoughts, he had proceeded with the torturous ritual of courting, searching for some way to gain more than her tepid respect. Finally, in a desperate, ego-defying move, he had laid aside all his labyrinthine plans and devious mechanisms to show her his tender side, revealing his heart.

  

  He had hoped his constant efforts had helped her begin to trust him, perhaps to love him a little. He had been wrong.

  

  She had been unable to hide her shocked dismay when he begged to serve as her Athame during her Graduation Opening. The significence of his request had not long escaped her. With growing dismay, he had watched her gray eyes lighten to silvery pewter as they revealed her first reaction of startled fright, then her compassionate distress at causing him hurt by her refusal. And she had adamantely refused his offer…and his proposal of marriage.

  

  And so he had said to hell with courting and romantic drivel. The tests measuring Morven’s magick potential hinted at a power almost equal to his own, impirical proof in his eyes that she was his predestined mate. The woman, though she refused to admit it, belonged to him and he would allow none other to claim her. And so he became Ethan Winston…and a deceiver.

  

  Squaring his shoulders, Wylder shook off the shameful memories. Somewhere out there, his reluctant bride hid from him, but not for much longer. This time, he would deal with her in honor. This time, he would offer her his love with no strings attached. He would adhere to the truth even if he faced the ultimate risk of losing her forever.

  

  He shrugged out of his leather, floor length duster and slung it over his arm before stepping out into the traffic of sapiens clogging the walkways. Under the direct rays of the unforgiving sun, his eyes began to water. Fumbling in his pocket, he dragged out a pair of sunglasses and quickly put them on, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

  

  The city teemed with life and noise and smells. Everywhere he looked, color exploded and overflowed. The crowds of people rushed about their daily routines, oblivious to the fact that a Magicker walked among them. The yeasty, stomach rumbling smells of a bakery assaulted his nostrils, reminding him he had never finished his lunch. He decided to stop and grab a bite to eat.

  

  He settled on a little curbside place serving large hot, soft pretzels with mustard. It tasted surprisingly good. He dipped a bit of bread in the mustard cup and brought it to his mouth, savoring the tangy, tart mix of salt and spices. A splat of yellow dropped onto the expanse of his leather coat and before he thought better of it, he brought his arm up and lapped it off.

  

  An infectious giggle brought his head up and about, his eyes lighting on a little boy busily tugging on his mother’s dress and pointing at him. Giving in to temptation, Wylder glanced around and made sure no one else could see his actions. Catching the youngster’s eye, he crossed his eyes, stuck his tongue out at the little tattle-tale—waggling it for good measure—and laughed out loud when the little boy’s mouth dropped open in shock at the childish acting grown up.

  

  Feeling better than he had for a long time, Wylder polished off his pretzel, crumpled up the napkins and paper and tossed them into a wire-mesh trash can before heading into the heart of the city. As he turned the corner, he glanced back, seeking a last look at the tyke he had played with. The little one still watched him, peeking out from behind his mother. He lifted a small hand in a goodbye wave.

  

  Wylder returned the salute, a smile parting his lips, a bittersweet ache tugging at his heart. Lady and Lord willing and I play my cards right, I might have a son like that someday.

  

  Despite the heat, he had chosen to walk a ways from the centrally located flightport, eager for the chance to see if he could pick up some trace of his lost Lady. He sauntered up and down the streets, surreptitiously observing the shoppers, picking up the emotional climate of the city while questing for a whiff of her unique power signature.

  

  He found nothing. An hour later, he gave up the search for the day, disappointed, but refusing to become depressed. Instead, he decided to head toward the Wharf, where the Greater San Francisco Police Department had been relocated seven years ago following the capture of the criminal dubbed the Elemental Arsonist. It being easier to make a building water-proof than to fire-proof it, the City planners had chosen waterfront property when looking for a replacement site. Water being a Salamander’s natural enemy, they tended to stay away from a large body of it.

  

  He had not been back to this city since being called in to eliminate the rogue Mage who had conjured Salamanders and used them to burn over a third of central San Francisco. The old Police Department building, standing since the turn of the century, had been among the first casualties and remembering how antiquated and ugly it had been, Wylder couldn’t help thinking the arsonist had done the city a good deed.

  

  Looking at the new building, he decided he liked its no-nonsense appearance. No fancy brickwork or Victorian icing marred the clean sleek lines. The architecture screamed order and functionality; letting you know that in this place, results were the order of the day. As he entered, he hoped the people occupying the building proved to be as true to their purpose.

  

  *****

  

  “This is not my magick.”

  

  “Begging your pardon, Mage,” the Lieutenant waved a sheaf of papers at Wylder, “in spite of the slight discrepancy you’ve identified, these levels are too high to belong to anyone else. You are the strongest Warlock known to any of the Councils.”

  

  “Listen to what you said…the strongest known to the Councils…last time I looked, the Councils were not all-knowing. They get their news flashes from the Lord and Lady same as the rest of us.”

  

  Wylder squared his shoulders and took in a deep, calming breath, struggling to come to grips with the massive disappointment threatening to swamp his weary senses.

  

  With a grimace, he turned to the panel and attempted, for the third time, to explain why his heart felt as if it would break.

  

  “A Warlock or Lady’s magick is a part of their biological make-up. If you had an identical twin, he or she would still be different, an entity unto him or herself. Though they would look like you on the surface, their fingerprints would prove them to be another, distinct individual. That is how unique our magickal signatures are. If there is a glitch, it is because the magick is not mine or my mate’s.”

  

  The death of hope came hard. He wished like hell the original S.W.A.T. Division report had been true and that the Salamander’s source magick bore his signature, for it would mean he had a lead on Morven’s whereabouts. An Elemental tended to remain close to the magick source that called it forth. If a flash of Morven’s wild magick—like those which had been bothering him since their incomplete merging—had been the culprit in unleashing the Salamander, the creature’s continued presence in the San Francisco area would point to her being close, if not right in the city.

  

  The officer stood and came around his desk, hand formally extended. “We apologize for wasting your valuable time, my Lord. I will check with my supervisor, but I am sure the city of San Francisco will gladly pick up the tab of your hotel while you are here.”

  

  “Don’t bother, Lieutenant.” He shook his head, forcing a smile though disappointment tasted bitter in his mouth. No need taking his frustration out on the local good guys because things had not turned out the way he needed them to. After all, the S.W.A.T. team was just trying to do their jobs.

  

  “The Council has quarters here. Besides, your city has wild magick in the shape of an Elemental on the loose and that is the Council’s business, after all.” Glancing at his watch, he crooked a finger and a chair slid over to him. Sitting back down at the desk, he pulled a pile of loose papers over and started going through them. “If you would, bring me the reports from the last two weeks. Let’s see if we can make a pattern of destruction…”

  

  Chapter Six

  

  Thursday, October 28, 8:13 p.m. (Northwestern Division time)

  

   

  

  “Begging your pardon, sir—”

  

  The man’s diffident voice managed to break his intense concentration and Wylder looked up from the stack of reports, momentarily impatient at the interruption. “Yes, what can I do for you, lieutenant?”

  

  The young man bit his lip and shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to decide his best course of action. “Uh, Lord Wylder, my brother and I were wondering…would you like to go to dinner with us? Our treat.”

  

  “Dinner…is it that time all ready?” Wylder set the papers down and rocked back on the two hind legs of his chair. Frowning, he glanced around for a clock but the cubicle walls were bare except for an oversized poster of the latest Matrix movie. “What time is it, anyway?”

  

  The rookie cop fidgeted under the direct stare. “It’s after eight, sir…”

  

  “And…?” A little teasing smile played at the corner of his lips as Wylder waited for the boy to get to the point. Really, he should be ashamed. Just because he felt driven to bring this case to a swift close, didn’t mean he had to abuse those placed under his command.

  

  “And we usually schedule dinner for six.” He glanced over to his partner and brother, who nodded in silent agreement, urging him on with a strategically placed elbow. “Sir, the truth is we are both starving. You’ve been working us flat out all day long, and the Captain said we were assigned to you, which means we can’t leave until you do…”

  

  Wylder stifled a chuckle as he turned to watch the young officer tug his fingers through his hair, sweeping the damp curls off his forehead. His twin echoed his movements so closely, it looked uncanny. Both young men were blond, tall, strapping officers fresh out of the police academy and the only available manpower the department could spare to work with him at such short notice. The Salamander, and the heat it brought along with it, had been wreaking havoc with the San Francisco populace, and the police force found itself stretched thin to meet the needs and emergencies popping up seemingly everywhere at once.

  

  They were good men, willing to help and eager to please. He had worked them hard, forcing them to stretch their magick ability beyond their normal level of performance. They deserved a break.

  

  Dropping his chair down on all four legs, he beat a rapid tattoo on the table. His impromptu drum roll snagged the two’s attention. “You know, gentlemen, I’m suddenly feeling famished. Let’s go get some chow.” Grabbing his leather duster, he slung it over his arm and headed out. Just before reaching the door, he swung back around. He didn’t want to be alone tonight.

  

  “By the way, since the Council is paying for it, dinner is on me. We will dine at the Regency Hyatt over on Nobb Hill.”

  

  He laughed outright at the rounded eyes and wide grins of the fledgling officers, gleefully calculating how much of a dent in the Council’s expense account he could make with Darren and Darrel along. With physiques like theirs, they probably both ate like Sumo wrestlers.

  

  It wasn’t about the money. Hell, he had billions stashed away in more banks than he could keep up with. He simply loved irking the prissy Council Members and they took a grim view at their agents overspending while on assignment. Mentally rubbing his hands together, Wylder led the way out of the tiny office.

  

  *****

  

  Thursday, October 28, 8:30 p. m. (Northwestern Division Time)

  

   

  

  Moriah followed the stuffy headwaiter to their table, turning to smile over her shoulder at Roddy and Patricia. She looked around the opulent dining room while the man politely pulled out her chair and draped her napkin over her lap, presenting the wine list for her perusal. She had no idea what kind of wine to order and didn’t have the slightest difficulty admitting it to the hovering servant. “I have absolutely no idea about wines and such. Which would you suggest?”

  

  Roddy looked up from seating Patricia, his large hands sliding reluctantly from her plump shoulders. “Let’s just celebrate with a sparkling cider. We need to keep our heads while we map out our future.”

  

  “I think that is an excellent idea, Roddy.” Patricia’s blue eyes sparkled as she gazed up at the surprisingly urbane figure of the man standing beside her.

  

  Morven lowered her eyes, hiding her amusement. Roddy spruced up just fine. She saw Patricia had taken notice of his new sartorial elegance. “Has everyone decided on the broiled salmon?”

  

  “Sure.”

  

  “No! I’m having the tenderloin and truffles.” Scooting close to Moriah, Patricia stage-whispered, “It’s the most expensive item on the menu.”

  

  Moriah laughed aloud. “Good for you, Patti with an ‘i’. Remember our agreement…” she chuckled, watching her friend’s smile slide off her face, “…once a day and twice on Sundays.” Turning to the waiter, she handed over her menu, ignoring the low-voiced grumblings at her side. “Does the restaurant carry Martinelli’s Sparkling Apple Cider?”

  

  The man snapped the wine list closed, lips drawing into a tight line. Collecting all the menus, he fussily twitched a wrinkle out of the damask tablecloth. “I shall inquire of the chef, madam,” he intoned haughtily, clicking his heels and stalking off.

  

  “Sheesh! You’d think we insulted him!”

  

  Moriah smothered a giggle. “We did. Big time.”

  

  “What?” Patricia huffed. “Does he get a piece of the action for every bottle of wine he panders?”

  

  “It’s not that. We’ve proven ourselves terribly uncultured, I’m afraid, thereby lowering his esteem at having to serve us hicks. Don’t worry about him, though. I’ll make it up to him with the tip.”

  

  Moriah leaned over and rummaged in her purse, bringing out two envelopes, each inscribed with one name. “These are for you, with my sincere thanks and affection. There are no strings attached, so please, just accept them in the spirit they are given.” Sliding the envelopes over to their respective recipients, she sat back in her seat and smiled at her two friends before reaching for a crusty breadstick. Slathering it with herb butter, she bit into it with relish. “By the way, you two, thanks for being so understanding about my having to cancel lunch the other day. Nyla didn’t get along with the substitute babysitter. I don’t know why, but she simply could not tolerate the woman. She actually bit her…!”

  

  Patricia snorted and rolled her eyes, watching that breadstick disappear with avid greed. “I’m glad she bit her…probably served the old biddy right. As for lunch, I needed three days just to recuperate from that bombshell you dropped. But my appetite has recovered with a vengeance.”

  

  A smile blossomed on her pretty round face, highlighted by a russet tendril or two that escaped her upswept mass of hair. She grabbed a breadstick from the basket. “Besides, dinner here at the Regency Hyatt is better than lunch anywhere else.”

  

  Glancing around, her wide blue eyes glowed with the reflection of golden tableware and gleaming candelabras, the glitter of 24-caret crystal wine glasses and the sparkle of diamonds. “Look at us, hobnobbing with the rich and famous on Nobb Hill!”

  

  “I predict we will all be rich and famous in a very short while.” Moriah eyed the untouched envelopes, on the verge of demanding they open them right now. She controlled the urge…just barely. She really wanted to see their faces when they opened them and found what lay inside.

  

  Patricia kept turning her head as she buttered her breadstick, neck snapping back and forth so as not to miss anything that might prove exciting. “Mhmm, this is so good…” She closed her eyes on a sigh as she tasted the butter drenched morsel. “You have to try these, Roddy,” she urged, “they are to die for!”

  

  Moriah glanced up from her own breadstick to find Roddy visually devouring the amply rounded, vivacious woman. His attraction for the saucy secretary pasted on his dark brown face for all to see, he leaned forward and growled, “So, give me a taste.”

  

  Soft peach color warming her complexion, Patricia held the breadstick up to his mouth. Moriah saw her fingers trembling from across the table as his perfect model’s teeth closed on the warm crusty bite. Chewing and swallowing without breaking eye contact, he rasped, “That wasn’t the taste I wanted, but it will do…for now.”

  

  “Whew! Roderick Hall, where did you get those lines? I didn’t know you hid the makings of a romantic under that rumpled guise.” Moriah fanned herself, eyes dancing as she crossed gazes with the flustered woman watching Roddy as if she expected him to pounce on her any moment. She bent a speculative look at her other dinner companion.

  

  This was Roddy—her technical geek—suavely spouting hot, wet-your-panties repartee. Now that she took the time to really look at him, she saw a lot of potential. He didn’t look half bad. She had always seen his tall height and rangy build, now she wondered how she had missed his sherry brown eyes and thick lashes, his thick mane of silky corkscrew curls and coffee warm skin. He was a beautiful black man, polite and courteous, self-assured and judging by the glint in his eye whenever they fell on Patricia’s ample form, he planned to participate in employee togetherness at the first opportune moment.

  

  “Better watch those sexy quips, Roddy. They’re hot enough to get a gal’s engine revving,” she joked, lightening the atmosphere when she saw her friend’s growing unease. Roddy might be in the market for a relationship, but the woman he had lined up to star in his one man show seemed to be having second and third thoughts.

  

  “As long as it’s the right gal’s engine…” he captured Patricia’s gaze and flashed his straight white teeth in a broad grin, obviously liking the look he saw on her expressive face.

  

  Patricia cleared her throat, snagged a water glass and gulped down the contents.

  

  “Right, okay!” Moriah figured she’d better steer the evening in other directions before her friend’s pretty blue eyes popped out of her head and landed on the table. “Much as I am enjoying this pre-dinner seduction scene, I think it best if we concentrate on what brought us here, tonight—our new business venture.”

  

  “First, I want you both to please take a look at the envelopes I’ve—” She paused while the waiter brought their dinner orders, distributing them about the table. With a mocking flourish, he brandished a chilled bottle of Martinelli’s, unscrewing the cap with as much panache as though he handled a bottle of the rarest champagne. Pouring an inch into her wine glass, he waited for Moriah’s approval.

  

  Refusing to meet her companions’ eyes for fear of bursting out in laughter and really insulting their uppity waiter, she sipped and gave him a regal little nod. While he served the other two, she basked in the mellow glow of their assured futures, convinced the three of them could make a success of doing for their own company what they were underpaid doing for JAA:SSCC. She had a thousand ideas she wanted to implement and could hardly wait to get started.

  

  Wait patiently. Stay hidden six more days, she silently admonished .Taking a deep breath, composing her thoughts, she nodded. She could do that. Though the year had been long and fraught with peril, she had survived. Surely she could make it through this short remaining time to attain her freedom.

  

  Roddy stood up and made a big production of clearing his throat. “I would like to propose a toast…to the world’s best ‘acting-boss’—!”

  

  “Here, here!” Patricia chimed in, raising her glass.

  

  “To the up and coming Lioness of Wall Street—”

  

  Moriah felt a blush heating her cheeks as diners at the near by tables stopped to glance their way. “Oh, sit down, Roddy, you’re embarrassing me!”

  

  “I’m not finished.” Roddy ignored her frantic signals, eyes dancing behind his thick lenses. A huge grin on his face, he flourished his glass again. “To the woman who has lifted us out of the muck and mire of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Ath—”

  

  His words faded from Moriah’s consciousness as a sudden flush of warmth raced along her back. A wash of power brushed against her bare skin, leaving a wake of tingling sparks dancing beneath her flesh. Too late, her inner alarms sounded, warning her of imminent danger.

  

  Hewas here.

  

  Her hands shook as she lowered her wine glass and shrank back in her chair, her breath trapped in her throat. Like prey, she hunkered down, becoming as small, as still as possible. Please, Lady…grant that I evade this relentless threat. Deflect this magickal seeking.

  

  The Lady didn’t deign to answer and she dared not invoke the Lord—for his was the avatar pledged to claim her. With only six days to go, she had run out of time.

  

  The weight of his all-seeing gaze fell on her like a physical touch, driven by his almost immeasurable level of magick. It pinned her to her seat, securing her in place with a ruthless singleness of purpose she had known only once before.

  

  She shuddered, wanting to scream her denial to the skies as his power washed over her, plucking at her nipples until they beaded, stabbing stiffly against the lace of her bra. Between her trembling thighs, phantom fingers played her clit, clamping tightly about the sensitive bit of flesh. Pulsing strongly in acknowledgement, the little button swelled and stiffened in recognition. An invisible hand palmed her swollen mound, two fingers roughly invading her tight channel while formless lips tugged hard on her turgid nipples, taking psychic possession.

  

  Cream dampened her panties, slicking the heated skin of her inner thighs. Her neck and spine arched as lightning bolts of lust slammed into her, igniting her long-dormant passions.

  

  Betrayed by her own body, she moaned and twisted. Need blossomed inside her, not hers alone, but his, amplifying and augmenting the inferno of desire until it burned her flesh from the inside out, until she came in a grinding rush, a broken cry winging from her parched lips.

  

  Sweat beaded her cooling brow, as she lay slumped against the back of her chair, too embarrassed by her loss of control to lift her eyes and meet her friends’ horrified expressions.

  

  “Moriah, for the Lady’s sake, tell me what’s wrong!” The pain and worry in Patricia’s agonized cry pierced her apathy where nothing else might.

  

  Her eyes opened in time to see the imposing form of a tall, devilishly handsome Warlock halt before her table and say, “Nothing is wrong.”

  

  Elias Wylder. The Warlock she had run from almost a year ago. He gazed down at her, black eyes filled with heated sensuality, waiting for her to meet his eyes. Drawn against her will, she tilted her head and locked glances.

  

  His mouth twist in a moue of triumph, and she knew he read the depth of her recent erotic surrender in her unsteady glare. The sinfully shaped lips that had always intrigued her parted. “For the first time in too long a time, everything is very much right.”

  

  The purely masculine satisfaction drenching his tone put her back up and she straightened under his dark, possessive gaze, anger roiling in her chest as her eyes narrowed on his imposing figure. “I had one nerve left, Wylder…until you snapped it.”

  

  His eyes snapping with flickering bolts of power, he raised a hand, forestalling her tirade. “Morven Maganistus, what have you done with my magick?”

  

  Chapter Seven

  

  Thursday, October 28, 9:30 p.m. (Northwestern Division time)

  

   

  

  Chaos erupted in the five-star restaurant. The two police he’d left back at his table had made their way over to where all the commotion reigned. A beautiful, full-figured woman with luxurious hip-length russet hair and a tall, black man wearing thick glasses were screaming questions in his face, at the same time trying to block his access to his prey.

  

  How easily he ignored the tumult and noise of the world while gazing into the silvery gray eyes of his mate. Even the question of what she had done with his magick could wait while he filled his eyes and senses with his first sight of the woman he had searched for so diligently.

  

  Wylder sighed, feeling his year-long fears and tensions easing, draining from his tight muscles and clenched belly. The only tightness remaining in him throbbed heavily at his groin and he almost palmed his cock, glorying in the deep seated knowledge he would soon be sinking that stiff length deep within Morven’s tight pussy.

  

  “Sir, what is going on?” Darren placed a hand on his stunner, prepared to come to his superior’s assistance if needed.

  

  As if…!Wylder snorted, amused at the rookie’s thinking. In the presence of his mate, with the second link forged, there wasn’t a power in the world that could challenge him.

  

  “Oh, I’m glad the police are here. Arrest this man! I think he’s accosting my friend!” The plump woman tugged at the police’s arm, waving an accusing hand in his direction. He smiled at her, honoring her loyalty to his lady. Stunned into silence, she sank down on her chair.

  

  “Who is this man, Moriah? Why is he calling you Morven?” The black man cautiously eyed him while questioning his silent mate.

  

  He cocked his head and waited, interested in hearing what she would say. When she remained stubbornly silent, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, deciding his appearance and mental lovemaking had rendered her momentarily incapable of speech. He liked the thought of that. Feeling magnanimous, he answered the man’s questions.

  

  “I am Elias Wylder, Mage of the First Order, in service to the Lord and Lady through obedience to the Grand Council. And I am the Mated Warlock of Lady Morven Moriah Maganistus-Wylder.”

  

  “I am not mated to you, you overbearing slug.” She flung herself out of her chair, standing toe-to-toe with him. This close to her, he could see the aura of her anger wafting in ultraviolet waves of rage just above her skin, could almost hear her teeth grinding together.

  

  “Yes, you are.” His calm reply seemed to infuriate her more. Her eyes flared hotly and her hands clenched into fists. “Do you really want me to prove it to you again? Here, in front of your friends?”

  

  He wished she would push him on the issue. He ached for another taste of her and right now, he didn’t give a damn if that touch had to be astral. He’d gladly fuck her any way, any time he got the chance.

  

  She blanched. Eyes widening in suspicious wariness, she stared at him. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  

  “I just did,” he reminded her, his mouth and eyes growing slumberous as images of bringing her to orgasm made him long to do it once more, “And I am exercising great self control in not indulging in a repeat performance, my mate.”

  

  The eyes are the mirror of the soul and they signal intent. He read hers just before her hand flashed out in an angry arch. Remembering all the legitimate grievances she had against him, he allowed the blow to fall, caught her hand when she would have pulled away and drew her flush against him.

  

  She yanked at her hand. He smiled, easily countering her attempt at escape and tugged her closer, wrapped his arms about her and snuggled his face in the fragrant bend of her neck.

  

  “Do you have any idea how long I have waited to have you in my arms again?” His whispered words breathed at her ear while his hands smoothed up and down the length of her back, relearning the sleek curves and valleys. “Feel how much I want you, Morven,” he urged, shifting his hips so his hard cock brushed against the curve of her belly, “how much I need you…”

  

  “Get off me!” Her hands yanked at the collar of his shirt, trying to move him away from her.

  

  “Now that’s not nice,” Wylder admonished, catching the lobe of her ear between strong white teeth, giving it a sharp nip. At her gasp, he soothed the small pain with a swipe of his tongue. “After all, I didn’t tell you to get off me when you were riding me so hard, did I?” He drew back enough to catch her eyes. “Since turnabout’s fair play, my love, I think it’s my turn to ride youhard—”

  

  “Mother of Magick, thisis what you were so frightened of?” Both turned, startled at the voice breaking into their private maneuverings. Morven took the opportunity to slip from his grasp.

  

  “All this time, heis whom you have been hiding from…?” Patricia stood eyeing Wylder with something akin to wonder. Turning to Morven she shook her head, asking, “How on earth does a girl resist something like him? If he were chasing after me, I’d run him down in a flash second!”

  

  Caught up in the delicious interaction with his woman, he had forgotten their audience. The round cutie’s tones conveyed her doubts of the sanity of any woman seeking to escape his clutches, which pleased Wylder no end. Besides being a lush beauty, she definitely had the right ideas about his and Morven’s relationship. Wide grin stretching his mouth, he winked at her, amused at her flustered response. Damn if he wasn’t growing to like her more every minute.

  

  “You have no idea what you are wishing for, believe me.” Morven scowled at her erstwhile friend, a flush of red staining her cheeks. “If my meager power impressed you, his would have you curled up, shivering in a ball of fear. This is the World Council’s Assassin, no boy-toy to drool over. And I was doing a good job of hiding from him until Roasting Roddy, here, had to stage a spectacle and draw unwantedattention to me.”

  

  She turned her glare on Wylder, standing before him with her hands fisted at her hips. “How dare you come here, self-righteously demanding to know what I’ve done with your powers when you’re standing here, aura bloated with my stolen magick?”

  

  He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair, gaze flicking over the avid expressions of Roddy and Patricia’s faces. “You know, babe, I really hadn’t wanted to get sidetracked onto this, just yet, not in front of your friends and business associates.” Then he locked gazes with her, eyes hardened, jaw firmed. “Since you’ve brought it up, sweetheart, where the hell ismy magick?”

  

  “Oh, no, Professor,” she shook a finger in his face. “You don’t get to ask me anything until you give me back mymagick.”

  

  “Actually, darling, I’ve been trying to do just that for the last year.”

  

  The silvery gray of her pupils darkened to matte pewter as his words sank in, her jaw dropped. “You mean…?”

  

  “That’s right, Lady. We only exchange power in one way. And since you are obviously not in possession of myelusive magick—” he stopped. Growing anger rumbled through him. He could hear the menace coloring his words. No way could he pretend the possibility of her having given herself to another man didn’t sear his soul. “—the questions that arise in my mind are: Who did you give it to? Whom do I have to kill?”

  

  “You are insane. I haven’t been with anyone since…” Her voice shook and she averted her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze…hiding something, he realized.

  

  Anger churned in his chest, fueled by heart-deep hurt and the growing suspicion she hid something more heinous than sharing what was his with another male.

  

  “Why don’t I believe you, darling?” Wylder didn’t need to look in a glass to know his pupils glowed with otherlightas Morven’s power sang in his bloodstream, responding to the heat engendered by his growing rage. A halo of magick rimmed his outline; shifting arcs of pure energy wove in patterns of heat and potential writhing about his head, dancing between his splayed fingers.

  

  “Do not compound your sin with lies, Morven.”

  

  “I do not lie—unlike some I know,” she taunted, eyes tangling with his in a private, reminder of his colossal mistake. She began edging away from him. Her friends, though obviously as frightened as she, took up protective stances beside her.

  

  “This is between you and me, Morven. No others,” he growled, helpless to disguise his jealousy of her bounty. He did not know what it felt like to have another stand at his side, had stood alone for what seemed long, solitary eons, since he had been forced to execute his twin.

  

  “We will settle this tonight. Come—” he held out his hand, commanding her acquiescence.

  

  “She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you, mister! Leave her alone.”

  

  Wylder turned his head slowly, glowing eyes settling on the man who dared to issue orders to him, to interfere between him and his mate. He stretched his hand out—

  

  “Wylder, please don’t hurt Roddy!” Morven rushed between him and his intended target, hands raised in surrender.

  

  Ignoring her, he swept both hands outward in a gesture of power, loosing a spray of lightning bolts. White hot and blazing, they streaked from his fingertips in sizzling bright arcs of electricity, searing the room with waves of energy.

  

  Everyone—from the maitre d’ at the front door, to the scullery boys in the kitchen—took one last breath and froze in place.

  

  *****

  

  Shocked and shaken, Morven stared about the huge, silent restaurant. Awe at Wylder’s display of disciplined power and disgust at this sign of his monumental nerve, warred within her.

  

  With thoughtless ease, he flung over two hundreds of people into frozen animation. Earlier, she had felt the presence of Magisti and other Supernaturals: Vampiri, Elven and Werefolk. Despite their magick and or magickal talents, they all sat motionless, as easily ensorcelled by him as the rest. This arrogant, intemperate casualdisplay of power, this quiet room, epitomized her fears of a year ago.

  

  For years, she had harbored a crush on Professor Wylder. She hadn’t been alone. All the female students—and some of the males—lusted after the notorious Warlock; titillated by the rumors the Council assassin had begun his career by executing his own rogue brother. Still, knowing herself no fit match for him—not academically, and certainly not magickly—she had contented herself worshipping from afar.

  

  The day he had offered her the position as aide in her graduate year, she’d gone back to her dorm and tossed her lunch, her belly jumping with nervous elation. The entire year she had worked as his aide had been a giddy, horrific rollercoaster ride of nerves, upset tummy and tossed up lunches.

  

  The man was more magnificent up close. He proved to be personable and friendly, willing to share his vast knowledge and resources with her. They had enjoyed many wonderful days—sun-drenched days, honeyed and warm with laughter and great conversation—which lingered even now in fond memories. Together, employing a mix of his ‘kick-ass’ philosophy and her ‘tender-hearted’ viewpoint, they had theoretically solved the problems of the world. Gradually, unknowingly, her crush had deepened into love. But she had been a small tadpole in a little pond, while he had been an eagle soaring on the heights of magick. His limitless power, and the casual arrogance with which she had witnessed him wielding it, scared the hell out of her. He seemed to harbor no inhibitions, to suffer no remorse at willfully restructuring others’ realities.

  

  A week before her graduation, he had further shocked her by offering to be her Athame. Matter-of-factly informing her of his sexual prowess; he had assured her he knew how to make the most of his modest eleven inch cock. Then he had kissed her.

  

  His kiss had overwhelmed her. Her girlish crush had never encompassed the firestorm of emotions he drew from her. How could she ever know if her love for him flowed from within or from being compelled? Sorrowfully, she had refused his offer, knowing she refused him on a deeper level.

  

  Looking about the frozen room, at all the frozen people, she knew nothing had changed. Elias Wylder still wielded too much power…and too little control over himself.

  

  “This,” she indicated his handiwork, “is why I refused you last year. Why I ran from you.”

  

  Elias spared a quick glance about the room before turning back to pin his fathomless gaze on her. “What ‘this’ do you mean? These people are not hurt. In fact, no time will have elapsed when I release them. Their food will still be hot, their wine chilled.”

  

  “So it is okay to freeze a person just so you can have a few moments’ privacy?” She could not believe he truly thought his actions acceptable. “Why not just spirit us away to somewhere else, rather than disrupt these peoples’ lives?”

  

  “I didn’t want you to add kidnapping to my list of sins.” His deep voice rumbled through the room, still laden with the heavy beat of power, making her realize the build up she had felt remained harnessed, ready to be unleashed, at his command.

  

  “So this is about me?” she huffed, disgusted with his never-ending posturing.

  

  His body stilled. Eyes blazing, he stared at her for a long moment. When he spoke, his words shattered her heart.

  

  “ Everythingis about you, Morven. I told you that over a year ago. Without you in my life, the world could go up in flames for all I care. Hell, I’d set the fires and dance while it burned because nothing and no one is important to me, means anything to me…except you.”

  

  “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, raising trembling palms to her cheeks, her heart turning over at the expression of weary pain on his craggy face. “You don’t love me like that. You don’t care about anyone, Wylder.”

  

  His body shifted restlessly, stilled, as though he had fought a battle and won. “I mean it…and you’re right. I don’t care for anyone—I can’t because you ripped my heart out when you ran from me. You took my soul when you took my magick.” He closed his eyes in a slow blink.

  

  Eyes regaining their glow, he advanced upon her and she knew he had no intention of stopping before he had her in his grasp. She retreated, stumbling over a chair in her haste to put distance between them.

  

  He halted immediately, concern flashing in the depths of his sparkling eyes. “Damn it, woman, will you stand still before you hurt yourself?”

  

  “You stand still, then,” she ordered, one hand pressed to her chest, trying to ease her pounding heart.

  

  “I love you, Morven, but you haven’t got a clue of what’s at stake between us!”

  

  “So show me, Wylder. Let me understand. Stop hiding behind this macho bullshit.”

  

  Suddenly, the magickal storm ceased. A silence so thick she could cut it, wrapped about them as they stared at each other, words abandoned as they communicated on a high level. Acting in a way she never would have guessed his towering pride would allow, Wylder completely opened his mind to her…

  

  She felt his pain, the raw agony her refusal had caused him burned within her own chest. Through his eyes, she shared his dying hope as the days bled by in the bleak yearlong search for the missing part of his soul.

  

  Tears fell—hers? His?—She saw his heart breaking more each day as he struggled to reject the growing fear she might lie dead or hurt somewhere, far from his support.

  

  The blistering self-castigation he heaped upon himself, his knowledge that his treachery might have driven her to her death, drained his sense of worth.

  

  She saw the black, yawning pit of self-damnation he teetered over.

  

  Through him, she witnessed the world ablaze, nature in convulsion as Magisti and Vampiri, Elven and Werefolk all perished in the attempt to halt his reign of destruction. She trembled at the weary resignation he felt contemplating his own death.

  

  “No!” her instinctive cry shattered the silence.

  

  *****

  

  He came to himself to find his head cradled against her soft breasts, unsure how he had come to be there. He didn’t give a fuck, and didn’t plan to question his good luck, just tightened his arms about her waist and held on for dear life.

  

  Nothing had ever felt better. Not even being buried deep in her welcoming pussy because its welcome hadn’t been for him. That embrace had belonged to Ethan…this one was his, alone.

  

  “Elias.”

  

  Her quiet voice flowed over him, soothing his ragged edges, echoing the gentle brush of her hand at his brow. He shifted closer to her, refusing to answer, fearful anything he said would disrupt the peace between them.

  

  “Elias, you must release these people. Shh—!” she hushed him as he started to protest, not wanting to share her, yet.

  

  “We can go to my apartment. I can prove I have been with no other Mage.”

  

  He reared up at that, twisting to stare into her beautiful silver eyes. “I need no proof.” His lips drew down in self-disgust. “My jealousy and fear spoke, not my heart. I knew while I spoke, that I hurt you with my distrust. You were right to reject me. I am no good for you.”

  

  Her hand never faltered in its soothing motions.

  

  “I think you might be perfect for me. I am the one who has proven not to be worthy of your love.”

  

  “Never say that.” Leaning over and covering her lips in a quick salute, he settled back into her embrace, satisfied not to carry their accord any further for the moment. His unusual contentment wouldn’t last, he knew. Soon his need would overrun his love and he would be driven to assert his claim in the most primal, earthy way, by a joining of flesh and souls in the deepest, ancient ritual known to man.

  

  “You have to do it, Morven.”

  

  “Do what…?”

  

  “You sound so cute when you are confused. I love that owl look you get when you can’t figure out a spell or conjuration right from the start.”

  

  Her hand landed with considerable force on his cheek. “You slug. Stop teasing me and tell me what you meant.”

  

  “That stung!” He rubbed his face, pretending she had hurt him. Her giggle told him he hadn’t fooled her.

  

  “You will have to release these people and spirit us away to your apartment. I have given you back your power.”

  

  In the silence, he could sense her probing her body, cataloging the changes within her.

  

  “You—” she shook her head, tears dropping like rain—”Thank you. I have never felt the lack so much as now, when I am restored.” Voice choked with emotion, she pressed a kiss against his lips. “Why did you—? How did you—?”

  

  “I had to. To hold onto your power just because mine is missing would be wrong. As you do not hold my power, the exchange ritual is not needed.” His shoulders slumped. “That you were able to rid yourself of my power is overwhelming proof there was no meaningful connection between us.”

  

  She placed a finger over his lips. “Or a more meaningful one than you could know. Come with me. I have something to show you…”

  

  He would gladly follow her to hell. Following her through a newly noisy restaurant was easy.

  

  *****

  

  Leaning against the doorjamb of her daughter’s bedroom, Morven decided watching her startled mate cuddling a wriggling, squirming bundle of overjoyed puppy intent on licking the skin off his face did wonders for her flagging spirits.

  

  Looking up from their joyful interplay, Wylder met her eyes, his gleaming wetly. “I admit I’ve acted like dog, Morven. But was that any reason to turn our daughter into a puppy?”

  

  “I didn’t. I turned me into a dog. Unfortunately, I had no inkling of my pregnancy. Imagine my chagrin when I couldn’t turn myself back until after I had given birth! That is when I found out Nyla had retained your powers, and I had been left with hers. Of course, with her no longer needing my body, I returned to my natural state. However, she didn’t have the control or knowledge to change herself back. Stuck with only her babyish magick, I didn’t have the level of power needed to change her from puppy to human…” Morven laughed, feeling happier and more carefree than she had in a long, stressful year.

  

  Instead of laughing with her, Wylder sobered, hugging his daughter close to his chest. “It must have been a nightmare. I am so sorry, Morven. All this is my fault.”

  

  “Well, I guess you could say that,” she teased, needing to lighten his melancholy, “if by that you mean Nyla takes after her daddy in willfulness.”

  

  He cocked his head, examining his offspring, hands absently petting the tiny black spaniel curled trustingly in his arms. “Are you a willful little miss, huh?” A gentle smile curved his sexy lips as he brushed them across the top of her silky head. “Well, you come by it honestly, sweet thing.”

  

  “She does, at that,” Morven agreed, walking over to join the two loves of her life. “Lately, she has been behaving so naughtily, I have been tempted to take the newspaper to her bottom.”

  

  Wylder bristled. “You lay a newspaper on my daughter’s bottom, and your own will be a pretty shade of hot pink!”

  

  Hot bursts of anticipation erupted along her bloodstream. Her breasts swelled, nipples tightened, thighs clenched at the thought of being splayed over his hard lap, helpless to resist his discipline. She shivered, licking her lips. “Hmmmm, sounds kinky. You making promises or teasing?”

  

  “Take a look at my crotch and judge for yourself, darling,” he invited, indicating the swelling at his groin.

  

  His sexy words, growled in a voice grown impatient for her, started her pussy creaming. Her stomach cramped with nerves of the most erotic sort, a carnal ache throbbing to life in the pit of her belly.

  

  Arousal grew as she looked him. The cloth of his pants did nothing to hide the aggressive rise of his cock. It rode his zipper, huge and thick, outlined in bold relief.

  

  “Put your daughter to bed, Elias…and then come bed your mate…”

  

  Her sultry invitation caused his face to harden and his cock to leap. She licked her lips, remembering his flavor, suddenly hungry for the spicy taste of his sperm.

  

  She almost keened her need for this man as he turned and bent over the makeshift baby bed, his tight buttocks and corded thighs flexing as he settled his sleepy offspring.

  

  Oh, she loved that godlike body. And for some insanely wonderful reason, the Lord and Lady had decreed this god belonged to her.

  

  Wylder turned, eyes gone slumberous with lust, mouth widened in a smile of pure seduction. He held out his hand and she took it, leading him down the hall to her bedroom and tugging him over to the bed.

  

  Pulling back, he began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Ward the room, Morven. We don’t want to wake the baby, and the sweet memories I have remind me you’re a screamer.”

  

  She swallowed, damped dry lips with a flick of her tongue. Heat lightning flashed throughout her body as their gazes tangled.

  

  “Am I going to scream tonight, Elias Wylder?”

  

  “Scream, howl…and beg,” he promised in a voice gone gravelly and rough. He flashed his killer smile, the one that made her nipples stand up and her clit pulse. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache blossoming in her pussy.

  

  “And what are you going to be doing while I’m screaming, howling and begging?” She reached out with a minute sliver of power, warding the room, soundproofing it. Her power, once more within her grasp, responded seamlessly, instantly. Reveling in her returning control, she whisked her clothes away with a thought. Sending tendrils of magick toward her mate, she mentally eased his zipper down, brushed the swelling flesh of his penis—

  

  “Stop…”

  

  Eyes losing the vagueness of concentration, she cocked an eyebrow in question. “Am I doing something wrong?”

  

  Shirt hanging open, showcasing the wide sweep of his shoulders and powerfully muscled chest, jeans gaping open, revealing he wore no undergarment, he glided over to her. Catching her hands in both of his, he brought them to his lips, gazing down on her with eyes glowing with an emotion she dared to believe really could be love.

  

  “I need two things tonight,” his rough voice stroked her skin. Leaning in so close his warm breath wafted over her parted lips, “Will you give them to me?”

  

  His thumbs pressed against the pulse at her wrists, stroking the thin skin with firm, circular motions. The pulse increased, as did the one throbbing between her legs. He could have anything he wanted, so long as he quit teasing her. She desperately needed his thick length sliding up her empty sheath, filling her body and her soul; both parts of her that had been empty and lonely since her headlong flight from him a year ago.

  

  Suddenly, he was capturing her mouth in a swooping kiss, driving his tongue in and out in a devastatingly sexual dance that had their mouths shifting, tongues tangling and bodies intertwining. He drove all thought from her, turning her brain to mush. His hands slid up her arms to curve about her shoulders, drawing her closer to his lightly furred chest as he devoured her mouth.

  

  “Morven…you in there…?” The note of laughter in his voice invited her back to the present.

  

  Gasping, sucking in great gulps of air, she nodded, heart pounding hard and fast. “Anything…whatever you want…”

  

  He drew back from her enough to meet her eyes, the expression in his hot and turbulent. “Anything, my own? That’s a reckless promise.”

  

  “Anything…everything…whatever you want,” she vowed rashly.

  

  His face hardened, hands tightened on her shoulder bones, fingers dug into the soft flesh of her nape as her words impacted on him. “I’ll make you prove those words before tonight is over,” he swore.

  

  “I’m not afraid of you!” A smile widened her lips and she wriggled her hips against his, trying to align their bodies, to bring his stabbing erection against her aching mound. “The last time we were together, you may have worn a different face, but even in disguise, you guided me gently through the most intense experience of my life. I can’t, I won’tbelieve you would ever hurt me.”

  

  “Never!” he vowed, affronted she would harbor such a thought. His hands gentled on her, moving in sweeps across her shoulders, down over her flesh, to where her hips swelled at the small of her back. “But last time was all for you. Tonight, you have the magick…I want the control.”

  

  Brushing her lips with soft sweeps of his mouth, the tip of his tongue prodded at her opening. Thumbs rasping the sides of her jaw, he tilted her head for better access at her mouth, his teeth nipping and tugging on her bottom lip.

  

  With a sharp inhalation of breath, the muscles in her neck gave way, her head lolled in the cradle of his broad palms, mouth opening beneath his, surrendering and enticing at the same time. “What are you doing to me…?” she moaned, arms coming up to grasp his forearms, seeking balance as her world tilted.

  

  “Claiming you…at last!” A heavy groan rumbled at her ear seconds before the hot flick of his tongue swiped her ear lobe. Searing heat burned through her as he fucked her aural channel, tongue surging in and out in a rhythm echoing the age-old cadence of sex.

  

  Oh, goddess! Slick heat pooled in her pussy, gushing out to coat her mound and thighs. His tongue buried in her ear and his hands warm and heavy on the rise of her ass, she teetered on the brink of explosion.

  

  Tilting his head and latching onto a pouting nipple, he wrung the first keening cry from her. His mouth closed over the hard tip, biting down and tugging on her swollen flesh. His hands swept up, arching her back, and forcing more of her into the hot cauldron of his mouth. She grabbed his head, fingers sliding through inky black curls, pressing him closer.

  

  Delicious shivers raced up and down her arms as she watched his tongue lave her nipple, watched a hand come up to cup her other breast. When his hard fingers closed over the tight point, squeezing down, she mewled and tried to climb up his torso, desperate to get closer, wanting and needing more.

  

  “Wylder!”she begged frantically, “Wylder… please!”

  

  “Oh, I promise to please,” he grated, teeth worrying her nipple. “And I plan to get much wilder with you—to drive you wild before the night is over!” His words vibrated against her tingling crest, the intoxicating movements of his mouth never ceasing as he walked her backward toward the bed.

  

  The back of her knees hit the side of the mattress. Vertigo assailed. Free-falling, she floated and he was there, catching her, crowding between her legs, forcing them up and apart before her back hit the mattress. Hands clenching and twisting in the tousled covers, she waited breathlessly for his assault.

  

  *****

  

  Steely fingers shackled her ankles, broad shoulders held wide her thighs, Wylder settled between the outstretched legs of his mate, his woman. Easing down on his elbows, he gazed his full at her smooth, shaven mound. Using his thumbs, he parted her, revealing her to his intimate gaze.

  

  “Look at this beautiful little pussy,” he crooned, erotically tracing patterns of lust on her quivering flesh. Eyes riveted on her graceful slit, bracketed by plump, full labia, he inhaled deeply. “ Hmmmm! Heavenly,” he breathed, closing his eyes and drawing in her unique scent. Never had he smelled a more intoxicating aroma—fresh woman slightly accented with a dash of passion. “But I wonder…do you taste as good as you smell?”

  

  “Damn it, Elias, I’m burning up and you’re spouting rhetoric. Eat me, already!”

  

  He chuckled when she tried to raise her hips, entreating him to taste and see. Pinching her inner thigh as an admonition to remain still, he tightened his hold, forcing her to lie still. “My rules, my night! Don’t make me remind you, again,” he warned huskily, dipping his head to feast.

  

  “ Yesss…!” she screamed, bucking wildly underneath him. “Eat me… Mother of Magick…eat my pussy, Wylder! Don’t stop…never stop…”

  

  Her voice sounding ragged and desperate in her own ears, she begged him to fuck her.

  

  “You taste like magick…like lightning flavored rain…like home…” He lifted his head, his lips and cheeks shining with the residue of her juices. “Dear goddess, but you are sweet!”

  

  Rearing up on his knees, he yanked his half-opened zipper down, releasing his aching erection. Free of the tight material, his cock sprang up, the deeply flushed head already leaking pre-cum. “I wanted to string this out, baby. Wanted to make you come at least three times before I fucked you—”

  

  Cupping her heat with one broad palm, he probed her entry, sliding two fingers deep into her core and began pistoning them in and out of her. “But if I don’t get in this tight cunt right now, I’m gonna come all over you instead of inside you.”

  

  “Oh, thank the Lord and Lady,” Eyes glassy and unfocused, Morven breathed the thankful phrase. Her body trembled under his hands as he forced her to accept more of his fingers, delighting in her uninhibited responses to his lovemaking.

  

  “Turn over. Draw your knees up tight and place your hands palm down above your head.”

  

  She quickly complied with his orders. Once in place, he brought his hand down on her rounded cheek with light but stinging force, causing her body to jerk in surprise. “That was for disobeying me earlier,” he informed her, soothing the light irritation. “I told you to lie still. Instead, you wriggled this cute ass all over the covers.”

  

  Her smothered giggle reached his ears as he leaned over her bent form, sliding his hands under her torso to palm her breasts. Pressing the tight, straining nipples between thumb and forefinger, he rhythmically twisted and tugged them, eliciting more cries and pleas for mercy.

  

  “You want my cock, baby?”

  

  She nodded her head vigorously, fingers and teeth clenched on the bedspread.

  

  “Hard and fast, or deep and slow…?”

  

  “Magickal mischief… both…I want both…!” Her voice arose from the depths of the covers.

  

  Wylder gave her nipples one last tweak and then took her hands and folded them about the iron bars that made up the headboard “Grab the rails…and don’t let go.”

  

  Taking his cock in hand, Wylder slid it through the glistening juices adorning her cunt, rubbing the fat head against her little button. Her body bucked under him and he loved it, loved the freely given evidence of her helpless response.

  

  “No punishment for that, love,” he rasped, her heat already bathing the sensitive head of his cock, making him impatient to get inside. “Move all you want.”

  

  Rotating his hips, he eased the head past her elastic entry, stretching the portal wide as it forged through. The heft of his shaft scraped against the slick, clasping walls, parting her feminine muscles as a mighty ship parted the waves in its path.

  

  She pressed back, seeking a deeper penetration. He forced her to take him in slow increments, feeling the burn as he slid deeper into her hot, silky cunt. Determined to make this glorious act last as long as possible, he slowly pulled back…pushed in…pulled out again with firm, even strokes.

  

  “Oh, yes…like that…oh, Ethan…please…harder, faster!”

  

  At the sound of that name in her mouth, he paused, uncertain what to say.

  

  “Oh, goddess, Elias! I didn’t mean to—”

  

  The horror in her voice generated his quick response. “Oh, baby, it’s all right. I didn’t lie to you about that. My full name is Elias Ethan Winston Wylder. The only name I wanted to hear you cry is mine.”

  

  She slumped in relief and he bowed over her back, hips picking up the pace. Smoothly powering his cock into the tight heat of her pussy, he deepened his strokes until his balls were pounding her ass with each strong inward thrust. Heart rate increasing, sweat beading on his forehead, he gripped her hips and pulled her back on his pistoning shaft.

  

  Fucking her hard, holding her in place with one hand, Wylder reached around and pinched her clit between his scissoring fingers, sending her body into erotic convulsions. Buried deep within her snug channel, he felt her feminine muscles working, gripping him so sweetly, their strong, rhythmic tug and pull on his shuttling cock threatening to rob him of all control. “Damn…I’m coming, babe…I’m coming…”

  

  Flinging back his head, Wylder surged into his mate, hips whipping back and forth as he pounded into her receptive cunt, hands roaming her back and thighs, fingers dipping and playing where they were so intimately connected.

  

  “Come with me,” he urged, quickening the pace yet again until his hips were a blur and her breasts whipped back forth with the force of his powerful thrusts.

  

  Heat raced in streaks of fire up his legs and detonated in his churning balls. As he felt the flickering flames roar through his body, afraid he would leave her behind, he heard Morven cry out, felt her convulsing. Her inner muscles clamping down in a stranglehold on his cock, she arched her spine and screamed, hands clawing for purchase at his thighs.

  

  “Oh, goddess, Wylder…I’m coming…I’m coming…”

  

  “Fuck me back, Morven,” he grunted, his cock swelling even larger as he felt the sperm boiling up his shaft, “grip me hard!”

  

  A primal shout of victory winging from his throat, he joined his mate in the throes of climax, moaning his pleasure, groaning at the exquisite feel of her silky, hot cunt rippling about his burning cock. Fire lanced through his shaft as his seed poured into the fertile depths of his heart’s home, magick flared as seed met egg and new life awoke. Collapsing to the mattress, he deftly turned them so he did not crush her with his heavy bulk.

  

  “I love you more than life, Morven,” he admitted, having waited until their passion had faded to warm embers. “I wanted to tell you when we weren’t caught up in the throes of sex. It’s not just an expression to me.” He rolled over to stare down into her shining eyes. “I have never told another woman what I just told you. I never will, again.”

  

  Morven reached up and stroked his face. “I tried so hard to escape you. I was afraid you would swallow me up, that your magick would overshadow any accomplishment I might make.” She sighed. “For an entire year, you tried to show me what you were really like, but in my fear, I looked only at the surface. I love you, Wylder. I cried every night and prayed to the Lord and Lady that you would find me.”

  

  “I have found you and I am never letting you go. Sleep babe. When you awake, everything will be right.”

  

  Barely conscious, Wylder cuddled Morven close to his side. Pulling a light blanket over them both, he looped his arms and one thigh about her, wanting to be as close as possible. Content and sated, he harbored no doubts she felt the same. Still, his arms tightened about her, making sure she could not escape him.

  

  He lay there, wife safe in his arms, daughter asleep down the hall, and contemplated the blessings heaped upon him all unworthy. Just as he drifted to sleep, he remembered the salamander…

  

  Epilogue

  

   

  

  She awoke to find him gone. For one panicked moment, she feared the night had been a dream, but the twinge of pain in muscles recently used—and used well—convinced her of the reality of the night’s events.

  

  Throwing back the cover, she padded silently down the hall, guided by the soft susurration of whispered speech.

  

  Peeking around the door, she watched her mate bonding with her daughter. Her legs gave way beneath her and she sagged against the wall, tears flooding her eyes. Raising both hands to her lips to stop her glad cry from escaping, she hungrily gazed on her daughter’s human form for the first time.

  

  Nyla lay in her father’s arms, her tousled mop of inky black curls a match for his. Perfect arms flailed, little legs kicked as she raised dainty hands toward Wylder’s darting fingers where a tiny ball of glittering light danced upon his palm.

  

  About Wylder, the powerful aura of his magick swirled in constant motion, cloaking him in limitless energy and force. How could she have feared him? She knew now, he would never use his power against her; only use it for the protection of her and their children.

  

  As she straightened and prepared to tiptoe into the room, Wylder began to speak, his voice both stern and loving at once.

  

  “I have banished your Salamander, you precocious little baggage. Since we don’t want Momma upset, we will keep this little incident between ourselves, young lady, but…” he whispered, holding his daughter up so she could see his stern expression, “the next time I catch you playing with Salamanders, Daddy’s going to put a kink in your magick that will ground you until you’re sixteen…!” he finished, wagging his finger in her tiny face.

  

  From where she stood lurking in the shadows, Morven quickly stifled laughter as she watched and listened while her mate admonished their child, knowing him to be too softhearted to carry out his threats.

  

  Their daughter seemed to know it, also. Gurgling a happy little laugh, Nyla reached out, captured her father’s finger and brought it to her mouth, her two teeth gnawing on the big digit, liberally covering it with baby drool.

  

  The powerful Mage stroked his daughter’s face, eyes swimming with tears. “Okay, maybe until you turn three,” he modified, nuzzling his nose into her powder-scented neck. “Now, let’s go surprise your mommy…”

  

  If Wylder wished to surprise her she wouldn’t disappoint him. She intended to spend the rest of her life making sure Elias Wylder got what he wanted, which would not prove hard to do as he had finally convinced her that all he wanted was her happiness.

  

  Filled with thankfulness and a reciprocal love, choking on happy tears and laughter, Morven Wylder slipped away and ran back toward their room to prepare for her mate and child’s return.

  

  As she ghosted down the hall, the night’s breeze wafted in from an open window, dancing chilled fingers across her exposed flesh. For the first time in months, San Francisco basked under the blessing of a cooling wind. The heat of the Salamander—like the long, lonely days of her self-imposed loneliness—had been banished by Wylder’s magick.