SPELL OF THE CHAMELEON
An Ellora’s Cave Publication, March 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 787
Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-840-5
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

SPELL OF THE CHAMELEON © 2004 TITANIA LADLEY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by Briana St. James
Cover art by Syneca.

Spell of the Chameleon
Titania Ladley

Chapter 1
 
It was time to reverse the spell.
Though she wasn’t sure why her past condemner’s existence had suddenly become a priority, Mia Foxe shifted and kicked her Harley into gear. The hum of the motor soothed her, while a chilly October breeze plastered her black leather jacket and pants to her lithe body. The Massachusetts countryside was alive with flavor. As she sped along, she lifted her chin and inhaled the mixed aroma of burning leaves, apple cider, freshly cut wood…and him.
Yes. The scent of him was growing stronger. And the site of Perish, a town that had thrived back in the early 1690s, was just around the next bend.
As was the man whom she’d sentenced to live out eternity alone in the now desolate ghost town.
Downshifting, she found the entrance to the lane where its overgrown foliage presented a wall of bright fall colors. She braked with ease, swinging the bike across the blacktop and moved toward the overgrown trail hidden within the dense brush. Peering through the clear shield of her helmet, Mia studied the many worn signs that had been placed on either side of the old country lane hundreds of years ago by spooked residents who’d abandoned Perish.
Warning! Do not enter! one read.
Another tipped precariously, its wood all but rotten, read, Witch’s territory. If you enter, you die!
The next elicited a throaty laugh from her. Evil spirits reside here.
Oh, yes. Abraham Warwick, the town cleric, had definitely been evil. But she’d shown him who could be the craftier one.
Without flinching, she revved the motor and shot through the branches that impeded outsiders from entering the area encompassed by the spell’s curse. The lane dwindled into a narrow path of weeds surrounded by thick forest. Undaunted, she urged the Harley through the towering pines and oaks, until shadows gave way to the blinding light of the afternoon sun.
The village, tucked against a soaring cliff, was just as she’d left it over three hundred years ago—a general store, an inn and restaurant, stables, a blacksmith and carpenter, tiny Cape Cod homes with clapboard roofs, English wigwams…and his church. It was exactly the same, except for the absence of people. They’d been affected by her curse. Subtle nuances had been imbedded in their minds to urge them to flee, to leave and never return.
And they had all abandoned the settlement—except Abraham. He’d been imprisoned in Perish to…well, she thought wickedly, to perish in his own solitary, eternal insanity.
“Well, well, well.” The voice was none other than his, of course. There was no mistaking that deep timbre, a voice which still held remnants of an English accent. “The witch has, at last, returned to stir her boiling cauldron once more. To what do I owe this grand visit?”
Mia swung her gaze to the left, and the sight that met her eyes was one of pure heaven. He was naked! Never in the last several centuries had she ever pondered what this man would have looked like beneath his preacher’s robe. In fact, she’d not thought of him again until the recent urge to return to Perish had suddenly gripped her. Now she knew why. Her gaze blazed a trail from the long sandy hair, down over the wide shoulders and solid chest. He was taller than she remembered. And longer, too, she thought, as she moved her stare down the rippling abdomen to the length of his flaccid penis. Oh, she’d never actually seen it before for comparison, she silently conceded, but wouldn’t her Chameleon senses have known there was a usable tool of perfection attached to the hateful man?
“Shame on you,” he snarled.
Mia experienced a rush of blue fire from the depth of her eyes, down to her very toenails. A sweet ache flooded her feminine lips where they sat nestled within the leather of her garment. She watched, awed, as his sex thickened and began to rise.
“No. Shame on you,” she threw back. “You’re the one who’s nude—and sporting a growing cock. And here I’d gone all these centuries and thought you to be a eunuch.”
He moved one threatening step closer. His fists clenched, as did his pearly white teeth. She could all but see the steam shooting from his nostrils. His magnificent body flexed with each animalistic motion of his limbs, each breath he took. And she thought of a mighty dragon breathing his fire and wrath for all to see.
“Woman…” he began with a warning tone. Clearly restraining himself from attacking her, he stopped in his tracks. Through clamped teeth, he said, “State your reason for returning to taunt me, or else I cannot be held accountable for my actions.”
Mia inhaled the rugged scent of him, the caged beast stalking his prey, expression contorted with pure hatred. He was a giant to be feared, to heed. Fearless, she crossed her arms and looked up into the deep chocolate brown of his eyes.
She shrugged. “I don’t know why I’ve come.”
His sandy brows arched mockingly. “You don’t know why you’ve come?” he echoed.
“No,” she replied, cutting the Harley engine. She swung a leg over the bike and removed her helmet. With a shake of her head, she released her hair, its thick mass tumbling to her shoulders. Purposefully, she stood before him and sat the helmet upon the cushioned seat. “I haven’t a clue.”
She thought she heard him growl before he replied, “You condemned me to live in a solitary hell with naught but myself for company for well over three centuries, and you haven’t a clue why you’ve suddenly come to remind me of what a witch you truly are?”
“Witch, Abraham? Or bitch?”
His eyes, dark as sin, twinkled for the briefest moment. “Must I choose?”
Age-old simmering anger bubbled from deep within her soul. She stepped so close to him that her leather-clad breasts brushed against his upper abdomen. Ignoring the traitorous tingle of her suddenly taut nipples, she tipped her head back and looked up into the mocking sneer of his beautiful face.
“You chose once, dear Abe.” She narrowed her eyes and ducked her head to nip one of his nipples between her teeth. He flinched, but did not move away from her. “You called me witch. You swore to burn my wicked soul at the stake. You sought to banish me to hell, to murder me, though I caused no mischief in your precious village of Perish.”
“And a witch, you were, as evidenced by your cruel spell.” His arms went around her, and she was slammed up against his hard chest. “But before that, you seduced with the sway of your hips,” he swiped his hands over her buttocks, “enticed with your shameless deep cleavage.” With that, he dipped his head and speared his tongue into the deep valley of her tits. “By one bat of the eye, you cast spell upon spell over the men—and, yes, even the women—of my town.”
Her head fell back. A cauldron’s heat scorched her wherever he touched, wherever his eyes brushed her flesh, wherever his hot breath caressed her skin. Her pulse thrummed in her throat like the erratic beat of a drum. With her chest pressed against his unyielding one, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
But suddenly, neither did she want to.
“By my mere beauty,” she said breathlessly, “I’m banished to die by fire? You call this a fair trial—nay, a trial at all?”
“Trial?” he replied softly. “You didn’t stay long enough for that.” Swiftly, skillfully, he plunged his hand down the back of her pants.
“No!”
“Yes.” He smiled wickedly. Before she could leap from his grasp, or throw up a boundary of protective magic, she felt his grip close over her trifed, a battery of sorts, which fed all Chameleons’ ability to perform witchcraft. With an adeptness born of a sorcerer, Abe yanked the trifed from its place just above her tailbone.
“No…” she choked it out and looked up into his eyes. There, by the light of a brilliant fall day, she swore she saw the epitome of her archrival in his face, the spawn of the devil himself. An odd dizziness washed over her, and her arms went around his waist for support. But she was falling, sliding down his mammoth body as Perish spun around her in a plethora of colors.
“How…did you know…about my trifed? Why…why…did you…do this to me?” she hissed.
The last thing she heard before blackness engulfed her was his hate-laced response. “That’s precisely the very same question that’s been haunting me for over three hundred fucking years!”
* * * * *
Abe gathered her into his arms.
He could still recall the changing colors of her eyes. Like a reptile, they changed with her moods, grass green with humor, red with anger, black as the hate boiled in her soul, and sparkling blue with deep passion and emotion. As he carried her to the inn, he studied the perfection of her face and body. Her features were strong and striking, not easy to forget. With a heart-shaped face, straight nose and plump red lips, she could instantly get a man’s blood to pumping with one look, one coquettish expression. Her hair was a mass of sable layers, much shorter than he recalled, and he gripped her tighter against his chest, itching to run his fingers through the cascading tendrils. His mouth watered at the sight of the smooth and milky-tan column of her neck, and he imagined that it would taste as delicious as her cleavage had. His gaze darted to the valley of her breasts displayed within the strange black costume she wore. Already he was harder than he’d ever been before. He could well imagine the feel of her lush and curvaceous body beneath him. All he’d dreamed of since laying eyes on her that first day she’d glided into Perish in 1692, all he’d fantasized about for decades, for centuries, was slaking his lust between her legs.
And exacting his revenge on her.
As he held her warm body against him, he clutched her trifed in one hand. He had no idea how he’d known to remove it from her body, nor how he’d known where it was or what its importance was. It had been like an animal instinct. But he wasn’t about to let her have it back until he was good and ready—if he ever was ready. Without it, she was powerless.
With it, he was almighty.
He took the outer porch stairs two at a time, and kicked open the front door to the inn. Entering the foyer, he scanned it for the stairs. He hadn’t been in this particular building since before she’d cursed the town and left him alone, and he now saw that it was worn, dusty and weathered from the hands of time, as were all the structures of Perish. But he well remembered there was a staircase that led to the upper level where it had been rumored that clandestine activities had gone on behind the backs of the upstanding citizens of Perish.
Thanks to the evil siren, he was no longer classified as one of those particular pompous citizens. Not since this woman had instilled a hunger for revenge and lust within his soul. God help him, but he could just strangle her here and now!
Above stairs, it didn’t take long to find the suite that would serve his purpose. The door stood ajar, as if to welcome him to his lair of retribution. Crossing the room, he laid her gently upon the canopied bed. The room was lavishly styled in seventeenth-century imported English furnishings. Though Abe had no penchant for such niceties, the room would do perfectly, he thought with anticipation.
But first to secure the trifed.
Moving to a nearby dresser, he searched throughout the many drawers until he found a cleverly hidden panel. He placed the triangular witchcraft source within its space then returned to Mia’s side.
Kneeling at the raised bedside, he noted a small satchel strapped to her back. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, he removed it from her shoulders. It was made of the same slick black leather her clothing was. Fiddling with the buckles, he drew open the inner flap. Hmm, rather strange items, he thought. Reaching in, he removed several devices, all of various sizes, shapes and colors.
He chose one, which closely resembled a man’s rod. Holding it up, he turned it from side to side. In so doing, the contraption made a sudden buzzing noise. Abe startled and dropped it next to her slim leg. She moaned, but did not awaken. Quickly, he snatched up the whirring device and his eyes widened in awed response.
The tingly sensation that moved through his fingers, then down into his wrist and forearm was positively mesmerizing. He furrowed his brow as various suspicions coursed through his brain. Cautiously, he touched the faux-cock to his cheek. It sent a rippling pinprick of pleasure down his jaw and throat.
Abe grinned slowly. His gaze swung to the sorceress, lying there all innocent and stripped of her powers. Revenge was going to be so sweet, so very satisfying!
With slow deliberation, he skimmed the contraption down his throat, then over his chest. He sucked in a breath when the tip of the contraption came into contact with one of his nipples. She was a witch, he suddenly decided. Only a witch could come up with such a decadent, sinful item as this. Somehow, the thought pleased him, and he felt his cock grow harder with desire for her.
Closing his eyes, he followed his instincts. The buzzing was like sweet music to his ears. Ever so slowly, he drew the tip of the fake penis over his abdomen, then down to the patch of golden hair at the base of his sex. Ripples of desire spread over his skin, but there was no comparison when he joined the strange device parallel with his own hard cock. His large hand went around the two together, and he hissed out in ecstasy as bursts of aching heat shot through him.
“Christ almighty!” he growled and threw his head back, his chest rising and falling in shallow spurts. But he didn’t want to lose his ability to exact his revenge on her. With control and patience born and cultivated over the last three centuries, he removed the vibrating item and set it aside. Glancing about the room, he located the perfect tool. Silken drapery ties beckoned to him. He fetched them swiftly and returned to the bed. Within minutes, he had her tied, spread-eagle, across the satin comforter.
God, but she was a beauty! Stepping back, he took his dick in his hand and stroked it as he watched her eyes flutter open.
Red.
Her irises were ruby red, just how he wanted her.
Spitting angry, yet unable to do a thing about it!

Chapter 2
 
“Afternoon, bright eyes.”
The drawl of his voice sent her blood boiling. But not nearly to the level that it reached when she came fully awake to realize that she was tied to the bedposts in a room she’d frequented many times in the distant past.
“You prick.” She bucked against her restraints. “Let me go!”
He merely chuckled like a madman.
“Look, Abe. You can’t do this to me.” She stared at the antique white ceiling, refusing to look at him. “I have more power than you could ever imagine. I can call upon some of the nastiest entities in the universe, and—”
“I have your trifed in safe keeping, Mia. Need I say more?”
How did he know about trifeds? It was obvious Perish hadn’t been equipped with the Internet since she’d been gone. The library was nothing more than a few bookshelves in the foyer of the schoolhouse, which was also his church. The need to learn his source clawed at her insides. Oh, how she hated this man for taking her powers away!
Resentment spewed forth and clouded her judgment. She made the huge mistake of snapping her head to the left to snare him with a hateful stare. That is, until she saw the scrumptious picture he made standing there, feet planted apart, chest puffed out, and one large hand stroking one larger cock. A gush of warmth flooded her G-string. How was it that she could hate him so very thoroughly one second, yet, the next, want him with a yearning that surpassed any she’d ever felt for any man or any wizard in her entire lengthy past?
She sighed with frustration as the afternoon sun shone through the gauzy curtains in misty beams. That’s when her gaze caught a glint of light off something metal, something she couldn’t quite make out. Stealthily, he moved closer. His thick sex was all but ready to come. She watched, transfixed, as his muscles flexed with his movements.
“Why are you naked?” she asked suddenly. “And why were you already naked when I found you?”
He knelt with one knee upon the bed at the side of her thigh. That was when she realized the metal was a knife he gripped in his non-masturbating hand. Though she did not fear for her life, for Chameleon witches could only die by two day’s constant burning, his intent gave her pause.
“I heard you coming,” he said huskily. He released his manhood to grip her leather jacket. “I planned ahead, witch. I didn’t wish to waste one precious moment with the dispensing of garments…” He inserted the knife between her damp skin and the tough fabric of her jacket. In one swift slice, he had her chest bared. Cool air wafted in through the window, ruffling the curtains and bringing her nipples to life.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked, yanking against the soft ropes at her wrists and ankles. “Do you know how much that friggin’ jacket cost?”
“I told you,” he replied smoothly, slicing the knife up first one sleeve, then the other. “I’m not going to waste a minute.”
“Don’t do the pants. No!” She growled and bucked as he did precisely that.
He stripped the tattered fabric from beneath her, then she looked into eyes the color of insanity. “How can a man of God do this to a woman?” she asked, grasping at anything that might serve as a shield.
He seemed to prowl across the edge of the bed until he hovered on all fours above her. She could smell his spicy scent, his sex, and it brought a renewed flood of fire to her loins. She flicked a look down his sculpted bare chest to the long hard cock that stood poised over her juncture. Spread out as she was, it would probably take one lone stroke inside her, and she’d explode like dynamite.
But she was going to do her damnedest to fight him.
“How can a woman do this to a man of God?” he asked sarcastically. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips softly to hers.
Subtle yet potent tingles of lust pricked her from lips to womb.
“Why is it you can only answer a question with a question?”
He planted his elbows by her shoulders and chuckled softly. Gently, he held her face in his hands and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.
“I never was that ‘man of God’ you always thought I was, Mia.”
If it weren’t for his mind-blowing admission, she would have succumbed to the excellent mouth-sucking he was currently inflicting on her.
“What?”
He smiled tenderly at her, and stared deep into her eyes. She thought that if the world would end now, she would die a most mesmerized witch.
“Technically, I was—until I laid eyes on you.”
She stuck out a pouty lip. “Aw. Bad witch entices poor man of God and tempts him to abandon his faith?”
“No,” he growled, and his eyes darkened to the black of hatred. “Bad witch casts spell on smitten man and leaves him in solitary confinement for over three centuries. Now man gets his revenge on bad witch.”
“And what, aside from restraining me,” she asked, tongue-in-cheek as she glanced at her wrists, “can that man do for revenge?”
“Torture,” he replied with a honey-thick voice, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of hate and lust. “Sexual torture, my dear Mia, without your precious trifed for protection.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, dear Abraham, but sex is not torture to me. I delight in it, live for it, crave its very existence in my long, immortal life.”
“Really? Well, we shall see…” He captured her lips then in a quite torturous kiss. The blade of his tongue swept her mouth with a hunger that fed her own. She longed to wrap her arms around him, but the ropes impeded her desire. And yet, somehow, the very thought of being denied that which she yearned, was an aphrodisiac in and of itself. The coals smoldered and smoked. Tiny flames leaped toward prized kindling as his mouth left hers to trail kisses down her neck, to her heaving breasts. Shivers engulfed her, and he claimed one pearl just as it tightened in response to his oncoming assault. One lone burst of heat exploded and spread over her flesh, invading the tender nerves of her pussy.
His hands were all over her, and she rejoiced that her legs were already spread for him. He swirled his tongue in her navel, and a tug of warmth oozed through her system. Instinctively, she lifted her pelvis, gyrating against his chest as he moved lower still. His tongue did a delicious dance, and forged a trail from her lower abdomen, around her sensitive sex, to her inner thighs. With adept male skill, he snatched up the knife and sliced away the g-string, baring her completely to his hot gaze.  He parted her folds with the fingers of one hand, and she sucked in a breath as he slid one, then two fingers into her damp cavern.
“You’re already wet, love,” he said huskily, his breath now coming in warm puffs across her clit. “But not nearly as wet as you’re going to get…”
She desperately needed her legs free so that she could clamp them around his neck and hold his face against her cunt. “Please…Abe…untie me.”
She heard him moan and inhale her scent. Then his tongue was slicing wickedly upward from the lower edge of her vulva to the patch of hair over her pubic bone. He was deliberately avoiding the one spot she needed him to attend to most.
Then she heard one of her vibrators come to life.
* * * * *
Abe held up the next contraption in her bag of tricks and inspected it as the rays of the late afternoon sun streamed in and cast a golden glow upon its skin-toned surface. It was silky-soft and U-shaped with bumpy knots running up and down the length of it, one leg’s bulges twice as large as the other. He moved his finger over a square protrusion at the outer curve and gasped when it slid a mere fraction of an inch. In response, the apparatus glowed bright pink and vibrated against his palm.
Instinct flooded his mind and his eyes flicked to her vee. It dribbled with rich cream. The pearly juice ran a trail from her feminine sex to her anus, tight and unyielding. He licked his lips and struggled to ignore the thickening ache in his groin. Despite being stripped of her witch’s trifed, she continued to entice him with her charms. Spread wide for him, there was nothing left for him to do but fill her holes with the quivering tool.
Her eyes flared and changed from red to black. “Don’t you touch me!” she warned, struggling against the ropes. “That one I need to control myself!”
His response was to lower the buzzing instrument between her legs. Then, maddeningly, he dragged the U-shaped toy up one inner thigh.
From the deep black of her hate, her eyes swirled and glowed, shifting to a glowing blue. Passion. The blue had always indicated passion and strong emotion.
“Please…” she begged. Her breathing became shallow, and she stilled her frantic movements. Her tongue came out, wet and satiny against her lips, as he slowly drew the tip of one end up into the tender flesh where her leg joined with her pussy. Her vulva lips were swollen now, and he had but to inhale minutely to catch the sweet essence of her arousal.
He growled when she sucked in a sharp breath at his next careful placement of the device—the large-knotted leg at the opening of her female channel and the small-knotted leg pressed against her tight asshole.
And he shoved the wondrous gadget deep into her cores.
“By the powers of the Chameleons,” she breathed it out, her head thrashing, her eyes flickering between sapphire, ruby and onyx, “I will curse you into eternity if you do not end this madness!”
He chuckled as she twitched and moaned. But his revenge was not to be that simple. Though his eyes took in the luscious curve of her breasts, the nipples tight with passion, he wanted to first get right to the crux of things.
Abe then lowered his head and swiped her clit with his tongue. As he pushed and pulled the curved device in and out of her, he drove her mad with his tongue, up and down, all around, back and forth. She tasted of sweet buttery cream, and he gorged on the unique, addictive flavor of her.
She screamed as if the fires of a witch’s flame were engulfing her with sweet death. “Abe…” she whimpered. “I’m going to come right—”
In tune to her body and the harmony of her husky voice, he abruptly lifted his head and yanked the device from her inner channels.
She gasped, her body going from rigid to limp. “No!” she snarled. “You bastard!” Her eyes, now glowing blood-red orbs, sliced down the naked length of her own body to snare him with her ire.
He looked up at her from his place between her legs. “My sweet revenge has only just begun,” he warned. Then a different sort of animalistic urge swept him. His gaze fell upon her plump parted lips as she drew air in and out of her lungs. A tenderness followed, and he realized he suddenly longed to cover her angry mouth with his own.

Chapter 3
 
Mia was enraged. And on fire.
Did he really think he could get away with this?
A wild fear choked her very soul. Yes. As long as he had her tied up, and her trifed hidden, she was doomed to be at his mercy.
And, mercy, but he had the talent of a warlock’s touch! Who would have ever thought a man of the clergy could put such a torturous hex on a woman, and least of all, Mia Foxe, High Priestess of the Chameleon Coven?
So, she thought as he stealthily crawled up her body on all fours, he was going to get his long-awaited revenge by torturing her, by bringing her to the brink of ecstasy time and time again.
He was going to drive her sexually mad, and deny her the ultimate release of orgasm!
The thought of it both thrilled and frustrated her. If only she could get loose…
“It’s no use, my poor little captured witch,” he purred. His face was but a breath from hers. The tip of his dick brushed her pussy, zapping her with desire. She closed her eyes and willed the ultimate to happen. Gorgon, but she wished he would just shove his cock right into her wetness!
He lowered his head and softly touched his lips to hers. A glow of warmth spread through her veins and ignited each and every cell in her body.
“Why do you carry around that bag of contraptions?” he suddenly asked.
She opened her eyes to look deep into the depths of his soul. His long flaxen hair was in stark contrast to the darkness of his eyes, now soft with an indefinable emotion. They twinkled, and she thought of a night sky during the summer solstice, vast and infinite.
She shrugged as best as she could within the confines of the restraints. “A Chameleon needs sexual release at least once daily. It is like a mortal man’s need for oxygen and food. It ‘recharges’ the soul.”
He nodded, as if he fully understood the nature of a Chameleon. “But, why use the devices, and not a man?” His voice was low, soft, and he dragged his lips back and forth across hers as he spoke.
Mia inhaled, her eyelids fluttered, she felt her engine revive and shift into a new gear of desire. “I said,” she replied, her lips chasing his in an effort to plunge her tongue into his sweet mouth, “at least once daily. Me? I require more than any man can give me.”
“Ah…so you’re insatiable,” he breathed, his penis probing entry into her dampness. “And you cannot find a man to give you all you require. So you pleasure yourself in between.”
“Precisely.” Raising her head, she captured his lips before he could evade her. His tongue sliced through her mouth with the sharpness of a blade. A renewed flood of moisture oozed from between her legs and her system quickened. One of his hands slid up her ribcage and cupped her breast. She moaned into his mouth as he pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pulled on it until it snapped free of his hold. Shards of glass seemed to cut through to her spirit. At that very instant, he pushed his long shaft into her. Yet he held back, denying her its full length.
“You are an evil sorcerer,” she accused, panting. He ignored her and began a trek down her neck, nipping, kissing, licking. She struggled to suppress the trembling of her limbs, the instinctual rise of her hips.
I will hide my desire from you. I will have my precious orgasms…and you will be none the wiser!
At the exact moment the thought had formed in her mind, his mouth closed over one nipple. He tweaked the other simultaneously. An inferno swept through her, and she bucked against her restraints, desperate for his cock to fully penetrate her. She heard her own groan and quickly bit her lip to stifle the automatic response. She would be damned if she’d cue him to the fact that release was but inches, mere seconds away…
He rocked against her, but refused to completely impale himself in her.
Then, as if he’d dumped an entire cauldron of cold water on her, he yanked his cock from inside her and leapt to tower over her at the bedside. His sex was long and beautiful, and, if she weren’t bound to the bedposts, it would be within blessed reach of her greedy hands. She itched to take its silk-coated steel into her mouth, deep into her throat, to taste the pre-cum that now, at this very moment, dribbled from the tiny hole. His manhood glistened from tip to halfway down its length, her own pearly juices wrapped lusciously around its thickness.
“What now?” she asked, gazing up into the glazed chocolate of his eyes.
“You’ll see, my enchantress,” he said cryptically as he backed away from the bedside. “You’ll see…”
* * * * *
He reached for the canvas that had been folded neatly atop the dresser where he’d tucked her trifed. Kneeling at her side, he lifted her hips and stuffed the rough cloth beneath her, straightening it so that it was a neat square beneath her sprawled body. On each of four corners, there was an embedded brass ring. He leaned toward the bedside table that held several interesting items, and chose two thick ropes. Twining each through opposite corners, and crisscrossing them over her, he then took the free ends and inserted them into the metal loop that hung from the canopy frame.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He risked a look at her, and his heart nearly fell from his chest. Her eyes were now green, a sign she was somehow finding humor in the situation. Her skin was aglow with passion, glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration. The thick mass of her hair was fanned around her face like a halo of rich mink. With her lips bruised, swollen and moist from his kisses, and her full breasts thrust upward, she was a pure vision of loveliness. Her slim waist flared to hips that were rounded to exaggeration by her widely spread legs. And the neatly trimmed thatch of dark hair at the crown of her sex called up wicked spirits he’d never before encountered in his pre-spell days of mortal existence.
She was dangerous, decadent, pure black magic.
She had already bewitched him from the moment he’d heard the rumble of her strange mode of transportation barreling through the spell’s field into his lonely world. Nay, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her in 1692.
“Exacting my revenge on you, sweet, sweet, Mia,” he finally replied. He did not try to hide the resentment in his voice. “Have you already forgotten that you cast a spell on me hundreds of years ago, and left me to rot in my own solitary loneliness? Can you not fathom what torture it is not to see another mortal human being for so very long, not to touch one, converse with one? Not to make love to one, for heaven’s sake? You, who requires more than one release daily, cannot see this?” Abe was now trembling with anger. But he was in control, for there was no other way for him but this. He released one of her wrists so that she could rise halfway. She automatically lifted her torso, propped now on her free elbow. He tugged on both ropes until the corners rose around her. Then, when he was certain she was cocooned safely, so as not to allow escape, he released the remaining wrist. “Sit up within the canvas,” he ordered.
She rubbed her wrists and glared at him, though her eyes remained green. Nonetheless, she sat up fully until the fabric was just below chin level. “Sit up? With my legs strung painfully wide and this scratchy fabric between my damn legs?”
He pulled again on the cord until the slack was lessoned and she was tightened within the fabric nest. Then he released her ankles. “Now, draw your feet in so that your knees are pressed against your breasts.”
She sighed and tested the limberness of her legs. After a brief caress of her ankles, she obeyed. Assured that her bottom was centered over the hole in the canvas, he hauled her up in one smooth move until her body was suspended approximately one foot from the surface of the mattress.
“Abe…” He watched as her eyes turned a strange shade of yellow. “Abe, I’m scared. Please let me down from here.” Fear. Yellow must equal fear. It was the very first time he’d ever seen her eyes turn the color of butter.
He secured the rope and climbed onto the bed. Lying down on his back, he positioned himself under her suspended form. He could see her pussy through the hole in the canvas, and he wiggled and scooted until it was directly over his erection. Anticipation throbbed in his groin, threatening premature release. Her wicked female scent taunted him, enflamed his senses with unbridled sexual need. He could see the moist slit tighten with her anxiety, and he longed to soothe its stickiness, to lap up the balm of her desire and give her what she craved.
But he wouldn’t…yet.
“Relax, Mia.” Within the three-inch strategically placed round hole, his finger found her folds and parted them. He heard her suck in a sharp breath, then whimper with longing. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Please,” she said, her body sagging downward when he slowly inserted one finger inside her canal. “Don’t torture me this way anymore. I…I promise… If you give me back my trifed, I will reverse the—oh!”
His hands had moved to her hips, and he now had himself buried completely inside her. He closed his eyes and struggled to tamp down the rising orgasm. It had been well over three hundred years since his cock had been gloved to the hilt by something other than his own hand. Willing his mind to think of anything but her tight wetness, he gripped her ass and twisted her canvassed bulk like a corkscrew upon his dick.

Chapter 4
 
Mia groaned as the new sensation assaulted her. Never before had she been fucked in corkscrew fashion. As he slowly twisted her cocoon over his cock, fragments of random yearnings stabbed into her. By the alternating angles of his tool, coupled with the tilt of her own passage, the circular motion within her womb was mind-boggling. With each rotation, she was gradually being lifted until only the head of his shaft was inside her. She looked up and saw that the ropes were now twisted to their absolute maximum tautness. For one split second, she could hear them scrape against the metal ring formed inside the canopy frame.
“Are you ready, love?” she heard him say hoarsely, his voice coated with restrained lust.
“Yes!” she couldn’t help but shout. “Yes, I’m ready!”
And he let go.
There was a brief pause where all was still.
Then round and round she went.
“Holy Hazel!” she screeched. Her head was spinning pleasantly. There was the whir of the contraption as it unraveled, along with the scent of her stirred juices wafting through the air. Following her own initial reaction, she could hear his muttered groans. With each rotation, her tightness plunged further and further down upon his cock, encasing him tightly within her cunt. She was so close to release, she could almost taste its luscious flavor in her mouth. It reached for her with tantalizing wings of sin.
Then the ride was over. Completely unraveled, the rope twisted the opposite direction by half a turn then it straightened until she was halted motionless on top of him.
The orgasm, so near she’d felt its first wave, was now gone.
“Oh!” she said with a clenched jaw. “You are maddening, evil, a man of the cruelest nature!”
He spoke not a word, and repeated the torture over and over again, twisting her bulk then releasing it. Each time, she cried out for the blessed orgasm to take her. Each time, it was denied her.
He swung her at an angle and she felt his abrupt withdrawal. A cold loneliness seeped into her soul.
“And casting a three-century-long spell on me wasn’t cruel?” he barked.
She ignored his obvious point. “Let me out of here,” she ordered, wriggling and squirming so that she could stand up in the canvas.
He rose from the bed and snatched up a sheet. He wrapped it around his waist then strode to the door. Plucking up the skeleton key, he closed the door completely and inserted the key in the keyhole. He turned it until there was a resounding click.
She scrambled from the confines of her prison and watched warily as he crossed to the window and tossed the key out into the oncoming light of dusk. She heard its cling-clang as it hit several items on the way down.
“I can climb out the window,” she warned, clambering from the confines of the suspended canvas.
He slanted her a look of pure amusement. “Not when I’m in the room, you can’t.”
She rolled her eyes and then studied his lithe movements. He was like a panther on the hunt as he located her backpack again. She watched, entranced, as his manhood remained erect while he rummaged through the bag’s contents. His cock almost seemed to be about to burst, it was so very thick and engorged. Her heartbeat thrummed against her lungs, impeding her breathing. He was a beautiful specimen, she admitted. Why hadn’t she seen it long ago? Shit, why hadn’t she just cast a spell on him back then so she could’ve had her way with him?
Answers evaded her. She shrugged the questions off. More importantly at hand was how to remedy the torment he seemed to be delighting in bestowing upon her.
But her mind continued to whirl with self-doubt and confusion.
Why had she been compelled to seek him out? Why today of all days in the last centuries?
She didn’t know the answers to any of her questions. All she knew was that he was obviously imprisoning her for one thing, and one thing only: revenge.
He pilfered through the backpack for several more minutes, examining each item in turn, then finally appeared satisfied with a particular find.
“What now, tease?” she asked, collapsing on the bed. He was never going to relieve her of her sexual frustrations, she decided gloomily. And suddenly, a thought occurred to her. Was she destined to spend eternity here with him, forbidden to experience full release as punishment for her Chameleon’s spell upon him?
The thought frightened her beyond measure. Without her trifed, and never being allowed to fuel her Chameleon witch’s soul, she would surely shrivel up and literally die, despite her supposed immortality. With the exception of the early years after her birth, she had never gone one day in her life without an orgasm. As a result, she had emerged a strong and victorious witch, and had rightly earned her title of High Priestess of the Chameleon Coven.
What now?
Would she be stripped of the title? Would she truly die? Or would she be damned to this tempting man’s wrath forever?
Gorgon, help her if that is the case!
* * * * *
“M…and…M’s,” he read carefully. The dark brown bag with white letters was odd but interesting. He glanced up at her where she remained sprawled naked on the bed. “What’s this?”
Her melodious chuckle reached his ears wrapped in a smooth layer of sex. “It’s candy. And they’re my favorite.”
“Candy. Hmmm. May I?”
The emerald of her eyes glistened from across the room. “Be my guest,” she replied blandly.
As he tore open the bag, he watched her draw up her legs and plunge one hand down over her curves until it reached her pussy. “Take your hand from there—now,” he replied calmly.
She sighed, disgusted, and removed the strumming fingers from her swollen clit. Then she rolled over onto her stomach and punched the bed. “You’re going to regret this.”
Yes, he was already regretting the fact that his alter-ego insisted on carrying through with his much needed vengeance. He wondered if his reprisals were hurting himself more than Mia. The luscious curve of her ass called to him, and from his place across the room he had a perfect view of her slick sex-lips. Oh, how he longed to sate his lust between her legs.
And he would eventually, he assured himself. Patience. Patience and you will have it all, he thought.
He shook the bag and peered inside. There were hundreds of round items in various bright colors. He slid a finger in and drew out a blue one. Blue like her eyes when he was buried inside her. He sniffed it, then slowly inserted it into his mouth. He rolled it around on his tongue before biting into it. A dark yet sweet flavor burst in his mouth.
“Delicious!” he mumbled.
She suddenly rolled over and sat upright. “May I have some?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Soon.”
Then she plopped back onto the bed and spat, “Fuck!”
Fuck, indeed, he thought. He set aside the candy and reached into the leather sack again. His fingers closed over a square little slick object. He held it up, and perused it carefully.
Amore Lubricated Latex Condom, it read.
He could smell the faint, yet sharp odor of…what, he wasn’t sure. Then he tore open the pale blue package and studied the disc-shaped item. It was soft and somewhat slick in his fingers, and the aroma of the article intensified as he removed it from its casing. “And this? What, may I ask, is it?”
She flicked a bored gaze his way then a positively evil grin crossed her lovely face. “It’s a condom. It slides over a man’s—um, cock, er—um, sex organ. It prevents pregnancy and shields against disease.”
Fascinating! “Really?”
“Really. Wanna try it on me?” she said slyly.
Yes, he wanted to try it on her. He tossed aside the wrapper and stuck one finger into the center, and slowly unrolled the condom so that it gloved his forefinger. Then his eyes shifted to the bag of candy. Without a moment’s hesitation, he removed the condom from his finger, turned it upside-down, then he slid a dozen or so candies into its opening.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she asked, obviously appalled. “It’s not a sack for candies.”
“Thinking of yet another way to settle the score.”
“With M&M’s?” Her voice was disbelieving and somewhat ridiculing.
But he’d show her. Pinching the opening shut until it was against the head of his penis, he released it and slid and tugged until the condom, lumpy with the round candies, was completely encasing him. Strategically, he moved the candies under the surface this way and that so that his manhood resembled a club with many colorful warts upon its surface. He throbbed within the condom as the smooth surface of the candies held tightly against him, played havoc on his senses and further increased his arousal. Now, all he could think of was plunging himself inside her, and discovering what new sensations his unique idea would give them.
“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked. But she didn’t wait for his response. Her throaty giggle filled the room, further inflaming him.
Without replying, he sauntered over to the bed and looked down at her. And he would never, in all of eternity, forget the sudden drugged, passionate expression of expectation upon her gorgeous face as her laughter died and she looked up at his candied cock.

Chapter 5
 
Wow! Two of her favorites all wrapped up in one scrumptious package!
Her heart suddenly ceased beating. As her mouth watered and she yearned to take his sweet cock between her lips, her eyes rose to meet his. There was something there, something altogether new and mesmerizing.
Free now to touch him, she reached up and closed her hand over the condom, never taking her eyes from his. They were chocolate, like the insides of her M&M’s. He hissed in a breath, but did not speak. Her pussy began to throb as if it had a heartbeat of its own. A cold-hot sensation flooded her witch’s system.
“I want you,” he said, his voice thick and deep.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
Just then, the last rays of sunlight faded from the room. Dusk blew in through the open shutters on a cool night breeze. There was the scent of smoke from a far-off chimney mingled with the new harvest. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she watched as his form moved nearer. Releasing him, she allowed him to kneel between her legs, and she held her arms up in welcome as he slowly covered her body with his. A strange and comforting warmth eased into her muscles, into her very heart.
It was the first time she’d been allowed to explore him. Her hands glided over his sinewy back, explored every smooth angle and plane. His manhood probed her gently while his chest abraded her nipples, turning them into aching buds of fire. Then his mouth touched hers whisper-soft.
“Mia…” he said huskily.
“Abe…I…I…” She panted it out. It was all she could do not to beg and scream. Kneading his spine, her hands traveled lower toward his buttocks—until he reached behind himself and stilled her movements.
“Keep your hands above my waist.”
“But…but why?” The sudden stern tone to his voice had struck a tender chord within her. She wanted to explore every inch of him, every cell.
His only answer was to plunge himself inside her.
“Oh! Holy, Medusa!” The candy within the condom had further thickened him, true, but it was the random knots grinding over every nerve ending within her pussy as he throbbed in restraint, that drove her to madness.
“Mia…” he said again, and she knew then that he would not be able to continue to curb his lust, to deny her.
It was the perfect opportunity to get one of her daily orgasms in…finally! She didn’t waste time. Her legs flew up and clamped tightly at his back. She shoved her arms under his and curled her hands up and over his beefy shoulders. Gripping him for leverage, she lifted her ass and slammed herself up against him.
There was no escape for him now, she thought, pleased and full of a desperate need. He was hers for as long as she wanted him!
He groaned in response, then slid his hands beneath her buttocks and gathered her close. She had never been so thoroughly filled in her entire existence! Nerve endings she had no idea existed, were stimulated by the candied length of him. He rocked his hips, then, and drove himself into her time and time again. Ecstasy beckoned to her. She could feel its outer edges moving in toward her womb in white-hot waves.
He pumped her ruthlessly, calling out her name over and over again. She slid her damp channel instinctively over the condom then multicolored rays of desire shattered around them. Mia had never before seen such a magical display with the act of sex. It seemed to further enhance her orgasm, lengthening and intensifying it to mind-boggling proportions.
Together, they cried out as a beautiful glow filled the room.
* * * * *
He looked down into her Chameleon eyes at that very moment of release. They were swirled with every color of the rainbow. She convulsed beneath him, her soft, damp skin gliding over his. The song of her release filled his heart. In every way, physically, mentally, emotionally, he felt the culmination of his destiny at that orgasmic instant.
The first step, the morphing, was now complete. Further knowledge and understanding poured into him.
But she didn’t have to know that at the moment. All he could think to do was claim her. He was on the path to making her his woman. The thought filled him with both joy and sadness.
Sadness, for he was aware she would never give up her independence for an eternity with him.
She purred then, like a sated cat. Stirring, she scratched her witch’s claws across his shoulders. “That was totally earth-shattering!”
“Yes,” he agreed, easing himself from her slickness. “Your favorite candy has suddenly become mine.”
She giggled like an innocent schoolgirl. “I want to eat them,” she insisted, pressing him up and away from her. He came up on his knees in the bed and watched as she sat up. Her hand closed over the base of his shaft. Son of a bitch, but I will never get enough of her! he thought as desire flared anew in him.
“Eat them?”
“Yes.” To prove her point, she pinched the tip of the condom where his jism filled the small space, and slowly unrolled it from his cock. From the heat of her passage, coupled with his own sexual fire, she revealed the candy that had melted in splatters over his thickness. The morsels still clung sweetly to him in colorful random splotches. Tossing aside the used latex, she licked her plump lips as her eyes glowed aqua, a mixture of humor and passion. When awareness at what she intended to do, dawned on him, he groaned on a long sigh.
Grasping the base of his rising sex, she snaked out her tongue and slurped one spot of chocolate from him, the red cracked candy pieces prickling into his rod. Next, she chose one off to the side, green smeared with brown. Pursing her lips over it, she suckled it from him, licking his skin to a state of clean and clear hardness.
His balls drew up in anticipation. Pre-cum oozed from his slit. He reached out his hands and cupped both of her tits, pinching and pulling the nipples until she whimpered her satisfaction. Despite the distraction, she continued her journey. Up next came a brown candy, then a bright orange one. Then, set upon the front side of the head was one the color of her fear. Yellow. Without so much as a moment of hesitation, she closed her mouth over the tip and swirled her tongue around the sensitive head.
“Oh, Mia!” he growled. “If you don’t stop, I’ll—”
She had no intention of stopping. When she’d swallowed the last remnants of the sweet morsels, she opened wide and closed her mouth over him, gloving him with the depths of her throat. A volcano deep within his soul boiled and threatened to spew. Bobbing her head, she gripped the base of him with one hand, and his sac with the other. Mercilessly, she sucked him off, his body going taut with lust. Interwoven with it was a strange element of tenderness and intimacy for this witch who had driven him to the bowels of insanity with her curse.
Now she’d cast a different spell upon him. Though it was much more bearable, it was just as intense, just as damning in its own way.
And he didn’t want it any other way.
The lava was building. Its orange glow coursed throughout his system, scalding him wherever it touched. A slow crescendo of chaotic rumbling formed, and he combed his hands through her hair, clutching her skull so that he could move her head in the perfect rhythm. He heard her muffled moan of satisfaction, and her tongue twirled eagerly around him. Then nature took its course. He trembled with the volcano, and the power of it built to unbearable strengths. There was no turning back. The boiling fire of his lust spewed forth, and he heard her swallow in greedy gulps.
It was then that he collapsed, resigned to the fact that he’d never be fully satisfied with revenge. Exhausted, he dragged her down with him and curled behind her, tucking her against his heart.
Finally, for the first time in over three long centuries, he slept like a contented baby.

Chapter 6
 
Mia awoke to the sound of chirping birds. Dawn was barely casting its light into the room. They were twined together in a pocket of warmth, the blankets tangled about them haphazardly. She could swear she smelled apples and spice upon the chilly morning breeze as it swished into the room. She was hungry, she admitted silently, her stomach rumbling in agreement. But a witch did not require a mortal’s food. It was merely an indulgence, unlike sex and the requirement of orgasms.
She closed her eyes again and basked in the sensation of warmth and contentment his nearness caused within her heart.
But she didn’t need it. She needed her trifed.
Gently, she lifted his arm from her waist and slid from the curve of his body. Harsh, cold air assaulted her. She shivered, but ignored the discomfort. Setting his arm down upon the mattress, she studied his face in slumber. His lashes curved in dark fans over his cheeks. The chiseled, handsome sculpture of his face, along with the contented curve of his mouth, made her long to cup his jaw and kiss him tenderly. The long strands of sandy hair were brushed away from his face, and she could see beautiful flecks of gold shining here and there as the sun’s dim morning rays filtered into the room. She reached out a hand to brush one lock from his cheek.
Then she ceased her movement and curled her hand into a fist.
No. She must locate her witch’s source immediately, and flee before he awakened. Stealthily, she crept from their bed of fire. She first searched the closet, then the hope chest at the foot of the bed, then the side table. Clamping her lower lip between her teeth, she worried over the possibility that she would never find it. Then she moved to the mahogany dresser. It contained a dozen or so drawers. With patience and adeptness, she searched each drawer, moving aside silky nightdresses and lacy garters.
Just when she was about to give up and move her search to another side of the room, her hand brushed a tiny protuberance at the back of a lower drawer. Heart thumping, she pulled on the knob.
Her trifed! She’d found it!
Gripping its skin-textured triangle shape, she closed her eyes and rejoiced in the energy that zapped through her at first contact. It glowed pink, as if to say that it had missed her. She threw a look across the room at him.
Now you’re powerless against me, Abraham Warwick. Your vengeance is finally at its end.
And so was her spell.
She quickly reached behind her and found the indentation at her spine’s base. Aligning it perfectly, she clicked it into its rightful place.
Spears of jagged lightening sliced through the ceiling and encompassed her. She raised her arms in acceptance, and closed her eyes as the orgasm slammed into her. Inhaling deeply, Mia rejoiced in her revival.
She was whole again.
Chanting, she now called upon the coven entities. Her mind scanned its embedded files of spells. Locating the correct one, she hummed and sang, reversing the curse she’d damned him to that day long ago in 1692 when he’d threatened to burn her alive. He’d never find her now. She would be safe from his wrath.
His beautiful body would resume its mortal state of aging and existence. He’d be allowed to leave the boundaries of Perish. He might encounter a bit of culture shock, but he’d survive. In addition, the spell field surrounding Perish would now dissolve. People would return. Perish would be rebuilt and begin to thrive, though in a much more modern fashion. And its legend of a Chameleon’s spell would be the very thing that would draw tourists to satisfy their curiosity of the haunted grounds and its notable history.
Moving on to the next task at hand, she flicked a hand and conjured up a silent chant. Obediently, her leather garments rose and embraced her. The tattered edges sealed upward in zipper fashion.
She was ready to fly.
Taking one last longing look at him, she leaped into the air and morphed into a white dove, her wings flapping softly as she hovered over his body. But she didn’t dally long. Taking flight, she glided through the open window and spotted her Harley.
It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
* * * * *
The roaring noise awoke him. Abe sat upright in bed. “Huh?” Confusion clouded his mind at first then he was struck by raw consciousness. The room was cold, but all he could feel was the vibrations of the motor as it was revved below in the town courtyard.
“Mia?” He glanced about the room. His eyes snapped with awareness. Gradually, his gaze lowered to the empty spot in the bed next to him. His hand shot out and he fisted the warmth of the sheets where she had laid with him all through the night. Already, he was hard for her, his cock jutting upward thick and tight. But she was gone.
Scrambling from bed, he shot across the room. Planting his hands on the windowsill, he leaned out and caught a glimpse of her leather-clad form just before she took off like a bat out of hell and disappeared into the copse of trees.
Driven by a frantic mood of his own, he whirled and went straight to the dresser. Amid various others, the drawer where he’d hidden her trifed was standing ajar. Garments from their innards were strewn haphazardly about. So, he thought grimly, she’d found her precious life force. She was back to being the almighty, invincible witch.
He shoved a hand through his long tresses. Would she have reversed the spell? Was he again damned to solitary confinement?
“Well, Abe,” he said solemnly. “There’s only one way to find out.”
He’d locked himself in, he suddenly remembered, but it was of no importance. Naked, he climbed out the window onto the inn’s porch overhang. Scooting cautiously downward, he scaled the edge, turned onto his stomach and dropped to the dirt ground below.
With haste born of centuries of pent-up emotions, he strode through the desolate village to his home at the far edge. Ducking, he entered the low portal, the door still standing ajar from his excited flight of less than twenty-four hours ago. His clothing remained on the stone floor near the hearth where he’d quickly stripped when he’d heard—no, sensed—her arrival yesterday afternoon.
Quickly, angrily, he bent and retrieved the garments, then shoved his limbs into them methodically, one by one. On his way out the door, he plucked his cape and hat from a peg upon the wall.
Stepping out into the cool morning air, the sun just then peeping through the forest trees, he tipped his head back and shut his eyes. Inhaling, he drew in her unique scent as it fluttered along with the autumn breeze.
Now to test the boundaries of the spell.
He was ready.
But was she?

Chapter 7
 
“Next time,” Sue Morrow said with a scolding, motherly tone, “you let me know you’re going to be gone all night long. I almost called the police,” she added, turning from the window. She was watching for her fiancé to arrive. They had purchased a home not far from Mia’s old Victorian on the outskirts of Salem. Today was the closing on the loan at the bank. Mia had been thrilled for her roommate and best friend. James and Sue were perfect for one another. But now the cruel clutches of envy gripped her. She’d never before felt that particular rancid emotion.
Until today.
“Sorry,” Mia mumbled. “I had a very important matter to attend to.”
Sue turned back to the window and parted the drapes. “That I was aware of by the way you suddenly leapt from your spot in front of the TV and flew out the door. Just give me a heads up from now on. You could have called on your cell phone after leaving, ya know? I worry—”
Her abrupt halt of words sent a sudden swirl of dread through Mia’s stomach. Mia had a clear view of Sue’s profile. Her jaw was now practically resting on her chest. Her soft gray eyes slowly widened as she stared out the window.
“Sue, honey, what’s wrong?”
“Holy hell,” she croaked.
“Believe me, hell is not holy,” Mia said, hoping to lighten the mood in the room. Her friend had no idea she was an immortal witch, but Mia had always delighted in dropping subtle nuances of herself to Sue. Sue had never caught on.
Before Sue could reply, the foyer door flew open and crashed against the floral wallpaper Mia had just hung days ago. Like a woman with a nesting instinct toward the end of a pregnancy, Mia had oddly been cleaning and remodeling her drafty old home for the last several months.
“Mia Foxe!”
From her place in the parlor, she didn’t have a view of the front door, but there was no mistaking that voice.
It was Abraham. Dread turned to fear. She averted her gaze, for she knew her eyes were yellow now, and she wasn’t prepared to scare the shit out of her friend at the moment.
She shot to her feet from the recliner where she’d been crocheting. The yarn and hook fell to the floor. “Abe!” she whispered.
“Abe?” Sue asked, clearly confused. Just then, a horn tooted at the street side curb. “Mia, what’s going on?”
Abe strode in at that moment. Mia’s gaze was drawn helplessly to him, and her heart fluttered at the regal sight of him clad in an off-white linen shirt with a close-fitting earthy green doublet. She noted that he was attired in the fashionable laced collar and cuffs of the point in history for which she’d banished him. Her eyes shifted lower to the knee-length breeches, opaque stockings and low-heeled black leather shoes. They were just as he’d worn them back then, and a nostalgic thrill went through her veins. Upon his head he sported a felt hat, and it was tipped at a most rakish angle, his long hair gathered into a ribbon at his back. A dark cloak clung to his broad shoulders and fanned about him like a vampire. He was dashingly handsome—he simply took her breath away!
But his eyes were black with rage. He flicked his gaze here, then there, until he found her. And her heart plummeted to her feet.
“Don’t worry…” Mia said to Sue, never taking her eyes from Abe. She willed her mood to change to one of humor so that her eyes were green for Sue’s benefit. The tingling behind her eyes told her the transformation was a success. With it, her heart rate slowed. “It’s fine. You run along now. I hear James honking for you.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Sue slid her gaze up and down Abe. “Mister,” she said, her upper lip curled like a protective mother bear, “if you lay one hand on her, I swear I’ll tear you limb from limb.” She took several hesitant steps across the room toward the door, toward Abe where he filled the arched parlor doorway.
Abe’s gaze finally left Mia. He soaked Sue with an assessing stare. “Miss, you can just bet that I’m the one in danger here, not the witch.”
Sue folded her arms at the derogatory remark. She bounced her eyes from man to woman. Outdoors, James tooted his horn impatiently. “Mia, I don’t have to go. We can change the closing date to another day.”
“No.” Shaking the shock from her brain, Mia finally lifted her feet where they’d been glued to the hardwood floor, and crossed the room to stand before Abe. Already, she could smell his spicy scent, and her blood thrummed like a she-wolf in heat. “I’ll be fine, Sue. It’s just an old friend…”
Abe merely snorted at that.
Sue’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Mia said without taking her eyes from Abe’s handsome face. “I’m very sure.”
There was a long pause in which Sue studied them, wavering with her decision.
“Oh, well…in that case, I guess I’ll skeddadle along,” she replied hesitantly. After another indecisive delay, she added, “You’re sure, now?”
Mia nodded. “Bye, Sue. I’ll be here when you return to help you move your things into the new house.”
That reminder elicited a sunny expression from Sue. “Yes, the move. Well, I’ll leave you to your…friend.” She stepped around Abe’s bulk and swept him with one last look. As she entered the foyer, Mia heard her mumble, “Very, very hot man, but strange costume.”
The click of the door closing echoed in the entryway. The grandfather clock in the parlor corner ticked and tocked. They stared at one another for a long moment.
“You thought I wouldn’t find you, didn’t you, Mia?” His voice, slightly accented, was accusatory. He stepped into the room so that they were toe to toe.
Mia’s gaze rose slowly. She stared boldly into his dark eyes. “How did you find me?”
“You lifted the spell, obviously.”
“I know that,” she said with irritation. “How did you find me?”
He shrugged. “Instinct.” That was when his irises swirled like a marble from black to green.
She gasped and backed away. “What the…?”
He took two steps toward her and closed the gap. “What’s the matter, Mia? You look as if you’ve seen a…witch.” With that, he grinned, though his eyes twinkled with an evil shade of emerald. He removed his hat and tossed it on the floor. Next came his cape. Swiping it from his broad shoulders, he tossed it on the nearby divan. As she backed away, he neared. With each step he took, another hook, another button, was released. Off came his shirt and shoes. Mia’s gaze sank to his crotch. Already, his manhood was straining to be released from his breeches. As if in answer to her inner yearnings, he stepped out of the pants and stockings, and stood naked before her.
She couldn’t take her eyes from his sex. A hunger coursed through her womb. She dragged in a ragged breath and knew the precise moment her eyes morphed to the blue of passion. Slowly, her gaze rose to his.
And they were blue also.
“I don’t understand!” she gasped. “How can this be?”
He turned, almost deliberately, and purposely placed his trousers on the chair where, only minutes ago, she’d been contentedly crocheting. Her heart ceased beating. At the base of his spine, just above the crack of his ass, was a trifed!
“No!” she gasped.
He turned back and his smile was gone. Though his cock remained erect, his eyes had turned back to black. With his hands in tight fists, he took slow deliberate steps toward her. She flung up a hand and the antique lamp on an end table crashed on the floor at his feet. He looked down at it, then up at her. He stepped calmly over it.
“Stay away from me!” she warned. His eyes were narrowed now with anger. She hummed and upturned the divan. One corner crashed onto his foot, but he didn’t flinch. “What do you think you’re doing?” she screeched, fear now clutching at her gut, for she accepted the fact that she was up against a warlock that had every right to complete his revenge upon her.
“I’ll not stay away, Mia,” he said calmly. “Your charms have seen to that.”
“No.” She glanced about frantically looking for some sort of protection. Suddenly, he leaped across the overturned divan. It was not an ordinary leap of an ordinary mortal man. It was a magical flying leap of the Chameleon type. “How? How is it so?”
He reached her then and slammed her body against his. A feral witch’s growl escaped her. It was one of both anger and desire. Her head swam with contradictory stimuli, for to stir up the wrath of a sorcerer was pure stupidity, but to stir his loins was utter ecstasy.
“Your spell of Article Three Hundred Thirteen, Section Mon-sporal, states that, once your mortal subject has lived out a life of solitary confinement for the exact number of years—to the day—of the Article number itself, he or she will become a Chameleon apprentice.”
“No,” she insisted. She shook her head emphatically and flew to the wall where shelves lined its expanse from floor to ceiling. Her arm went up, and, like a magnet, it located her copy of the Chameleon Coventry, a holy manual of spells. It popped from the shelf and glided across the room to her. She wetted her finger and thumbed through the pages. She found what she was looking for. Her eyes quickly scanned the gold-edged page of the ancient book, and she mumbled as she speed-read it.
She spun, then, on her heel. The book tumbled through the air and crashed against a far wall. “I used the spell of Article Three Hundred Fourteen, not Thirteen. I still had another year to go before the clause took effect.”
He slowly shook his head, almost with pity. Within a witch’s blink, he was standing before her again in all his naked glory. His eyes were now a swirl of green and blue. She forced her gaze from the sight of those eyes. He was mocking her! He was laughing at her…and he was horny for her!
How stupid could she have been? How had she overlooked, or miscounted the years? Obviously, that had been why she’d suddenly felt the urge to go to Perish. It had been her last chance to avoid that particular aspect of the spell, though she’d assumed on a conscious level that she still had another year to go. As the spell’s rules were written, the subject of the spell grows a temporary trifed, and on the anniversary, it matures. If any form of sexual contact comes between the witch and her victim, and especially once sexual consummation occurs following the hour of anniversary, the subject is made permanently immortal and becomes Chameleon. She had always thought of it as catching a disease of mixed proportions, for not all mortals desired to become immortal, magic-wielding beings.
And now she knew why he’d not allowed her to touch his ass during lovemaking, why he’d never presented his backside to her. He had had the upper hand all along, even after she’d flown the coop.
Except for the spell. If she hadn’t have reversed it, he would still be imprisoned inside Perish’s boundaries, because even a Chameleon could be bound by certain spells of other Chameleons.
He lifted a hand and tipped her chin up so that she had no choice but to look into them.
“Your eyes are…pink,” she said with a gulp, confused, for she knew what it meant.
“Pink is the color of Chameleon love.”
All Chameleon knowledge was imparted to a spell recipient. It was how he’d seemed to know the answers to everything; how, for instance, he’d known to strip his clothing at the sound of her approach to Perish. If the spell were reversed before the completion of the transformation from human to Chameleon, amnesia would take effect.
Clearly, Abraham Warwick did not have amnesia. He was now an all-knowing, almighty sorcerer—thanks to her own stupidity.
“Love?” she croaked.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely, his hands rising to cup her face. He dropped his forehead to hers. “I have both loved and hated you since you arrived that day in 1692 in Perish.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. His warmth engulfed her. His love suddenly overwhelmed her. “You loved me so much you threatened to burn me at the stake.”
“Yes, for show.”
“For show?”
He sighed and gathered her against him. “It was the town council that insisted you were a witch, and that you should be burned to death, as many others were being sentenced at that time in Salem. I had a plan. I was totally smitten with you, but I couldn’t let on, or I would be imprisoned. I no longer wished to be the town’s clergy, though I had already been having my doubts before you even arrived in my life. Witch or not, I had fallen madly under your spell. It had been my plan to make them all believe that I agreed and would follow through with the burning ceremony—to buy time, you see. I had intended to go to you, the very night you cast your wrath upon me, and flee with you before they could harm you. You never gave me the chance to explain. Suddenly, with one chant and one flick of your hand, I was alone…for an eternity. And I have thought of nothing else but you for the last three hundred thirteen years.”
“Oh, Abe,” she cried, and her arms clamped around him as she buried her face against the wall of his bare chest. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry I put you through all that maddening loneliness!”
“Shh, shh.” He clutched her to him as if he feared she’d flee, as if many lifetimes of relief had just flooded his soul. “I know how you can make it up to me, love. Shh, shh.”
Her tears stilled. His hardness was pressed against her abdomen, stirring the cauldron of her desire. As the fire blazed in the small hearth across the room, as the clock ticked softly, she was suddenly aware of the beat of his heart, the scent of his warm skin. How had she missed all this about him in 1692? Had she been that self-centered back then? Had she really been so cruel as to sentence him to a life of solitary confinement? Oh, how she wished she could go back and change it all. A Chameleon’s life and form were all about mystical change, but that was one thing they could not do: go back in time and alter events.
“What? What can I do, Abe? I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” she cried, lifting her head so that she could look into his eyes, his heart.
The pink glow of his eyes blazed then with a swirl of blue, and his stare widened. He gaped at her for a long, eternal minute. “You already have,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I—I have?”
He whirled her around and threw a bolt of orange fire across the room. The huge, filigree-edged mirror above the mantle zipped through the space of the room and planted itself on the floor before her.
“See?” he asked softly in her ear, his hot breath sending delicious chills up her spine.
She looked then at her reflection in the mirror. A ragged gasp echoed in the room. Her hand came up to slap her open mouth.
Her eyes were flaming pink! The color of love!
“It can’t be,” she insisted, shaking her head.
“Oh, but it can,” he declared, sweeping her clothes from her in one flick of his fingers.
She swallowed audibly and studied their naked forms in the mirror. “You’ve become quite the warlock.”
“Love cannot be forced, even by spells,” he said wisely. And she knew it was true.
He swept her to the floor. The violent move jostled the end table next to the chair where she’d been relaxing. Her cup of iced tea splattered across the floor, ice cubes and all. She cared not about the mess, and had no choice but to lay in waiting for him. She was in dire need of her daily fix.
“Be my partner, Mia.”
He collapsed and covered her body with his. His mouth was all over her flesh, tearing it to wanton pieces. His sword was positioned at the apex to her soul.
“Your partner?” she panted, lifting her chin to allow him more area to feast upon her neck.
“You know what I mean,” he said between nips and kisses. “Take me as your mate.”
Ah, the ultimate union between Chameleons. “You want to become the Priest of the Chameleon Coven?” she asked, already feeling her honey ooze out onto the cool wood of the floor.
“Not so much that as your eternal mate. Join with me,” he begged huskily. “Now.”
She didn’t have to ponder the request. When love was mutual between Chameleons, it was understood to unite. But with her being the High Priestess, the queen of all Chameleons, taking an eternal mate was something to mull over, to make a careful determination, for her mate would then be over the entire Coven as their king, of sorts.
“Are you prepared for the responsibility?” she asked as an electric charge moved from his mouth, where it now sucked one of her nipples into its warmth, to the ends of her claw-toes.
They both knew what was expected of them in order to complete the merging. Mutual agreement and a soulful joining.
“Yes. But only if I can have you forever…” and his mouth moved lower still. She turned then, and awed, watched in the mirror as their betrothed images bonded. A jagged neon bolt grew from her womb to connect with his scrotum. Now, all that was required was their first mutual orgasm together. He would then become her mate, the High Priest. Her husband.
Suddenly, she wanted it, wanted him, more than anything in the whole galaxy. Her breath was coming in short spurts. Butterflies of fire teased at her flesh as he worshiped her body. When he closed his mouth over her sex, she thought for sure she was burning at the stake.
“Abe!” she whimpered. She thrust her hips upward to meet his mouth, and he devoured her, lapping up every drop of her juice. He morphed his tongue then, adding inches to its length—and he fucked her with it, driving it into her with an animal’s frenzy.
She was almost there. The orgasm was surrounding her, intoxicating her with lust upon the horizon.
And he abruptly withdrew.
She gasped and looked down the length of her body at him. Was he going to start that again, that torture? “Abe?”
He grinned wolfishly at her from his place between her legs, and held up one of the elongated ice cubes from her icemaker. Then he inserted one cube into her pussy. She flinched at the cold sensation as it was sucked up inside her. He took another and repeated the process.
“Feel good?” he asked, slithering up her front side and rising gently into the air. He was now hovering over her, suspended as he looked down upon her.
“Yes…oh, yes!” she growled. Her hands went up and cupped her own tits. She pinched her nipples and a gush of cool water dripped from her pussy. “More. I want more.”
He chuckled and obliged without pause. His cock was swollen and hard poised above her slit, and she wondered if he were to get anymore horny, if it would pop. He shoved two more pieces of ice into her. She stiffened at the erotic sensation of it.
But that was nothing compared to the feel of him entering her, abrading the ice against her sensitive G-spot. It melted quickly, cold trickling over warmth as it oozed from her, but the newer ones were still persevering. He drove into her, and she thought she would die by the bewitching thrill of it. His mouth covered hers in an urgent, yet gentle kiss. The floor was hard and cool at her back, and her ass abraded against it with each thrust. She spread her legs wide for him. The fervor was building.
“It is time,” she said to him, and he looked down at her, his eyes a marbly mixture of blue and green, pink and, yes, even a smidgen of yellow.
“I love you, Mia,” he said hoarsely, straining to hold back his release.
Her hand went up and she pressed her palm to his cheek. “And I love you, Abraham.”
It was all that was needed before the finale. He gathered her to him and tossed up a hand so that they levitated in an upright position above the floor. Mia could almost touch the ceiling, but she didn’t want to. She only wanted the feel of his corded muscles against her palms. She straddled his hips and rode him like a stallion. Throwing her head back, she reveled in the journey as they rose high into the Coven realm. Their mouths were melded together, and their gonads connected. All was aligned correctly for their betrothal.
Then they both cried out. Their bodies sizzled together in a pink cloud of light. They twitched and seized, and the multiple orgasms went on and on.
When finally they were spent, they lost consciousness and floated back to the parlor floor.
* * * * *
“Well,” Sue said blandly, her hands on her hips as she looked down at the two lovers. “I guess he did lay a hand on you.”
Mia’s eyes popped open and she looked up at an upside-down Sue. Gratefully, she and Abe had been wound in a silk covering following the ceremony, though she had no recollection of that particular ritual.
She grinned up at Sue and giggled. “Oh, yes. Many hands.”
There was a deep clearing of the throat. James came into view. “You gonna help with the move?” he asked, a thick folder of signed documents from the loan closing tucked under his arm. “Or are you gonna be lazy and fuck around all night?”
“Fuck around all night,” Abe offered, his voice muffled where it was tucked in the thickness of her hair. He didn’t bother to lift his head and introduce himself.
Sue stifled a giggle.
“Well,” James said, raising a single auburn brow, “there goes that. Gee, Sue,” he said good-naturedly, slanting a look at his fiancée. “Guess we’re gonna have to do all the hard work ourselves.”
She nodded her agreement and added, “Yep, we’d never dream of interrupting such passion and fire.”
James slipped an arm around Sue as they turned away and left the room. “Damn, that was hot,” they heard him say. “Wanna go upstairs and fuck?”
“You didn’t cast the horny spell on them, did you?” Abe asked, lounging now on one side, his head propped in one hand.
“Hell, no. Those two don’t need it. They screw like rabbits as it is!”
The doorbell rang.
“Shit! Who could that be?”
Abe shrugged and mumbled a few words. Within a flash, they were both fully dressed. Mia went out into the foyer to answer the door. Abe propped one shoulder against the doorjamb, waiting to see who was on his wife’s doorstep. Mia pulled open the heavy oak door. A cold night wind blew in.
“Trick or Treat!” two little voices chimed.
There was a long pause then Mia broke out into a rolling fit of laughter. Abe just gawked in confusion.
There, standing on her doorstep holding out bags for Halloween treats, was a miniature witch and warlock. Mia brought herself under control, crossed to the small table in the entry where she typically tossed her keys, and opened the lone drawer.
She pulled out two bags of M&Ms and offered them to Abe. “Here, drop one in each bag. I’ll explain later.”
 
The End

About the author:
 
Titania Ladley began her journey into reading romance at the tender age of 13. Soon, sweet romance just didn’t cut it. She craved more detail, more sex, way more “creativity” between lovers. By her 20’s, she discovered that people actually wrote what she needed to read—what she fantasized about. She then devoured the erotica genre. But, alas, restless as usual, she could no longer tolerate just reading about it. In her 30’s, Titania couldn’t suppress the need, the overwhelming drive to create her own fantasies. She had to write. So she did. Published in erotic romance novels and best-selling novellas, she just can’t seem to tame her active imagination. So she writes some more…
Titania is a registered nurse, magazine freelance writer, book reviewer and has penned witty slogans. She resides in the Midwest with her very own hunky hero and three children. She enjoys reading erotic romances, walking, weightlifting, crocheting and baking fattening desserts.
Titania welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.