Page 9 of A Dance with the Fae (Mistress of Magic #1)

‘You’re gonna love them!’ Aisha shouted over her shoulder as they made their way into the crowded bar. Taking Faye’s hand, Aisha snaked her way expertly through the bubbles of space that opened and closed between people.

Faye had agreed to come with Aisha to see Dal Riada play in a club in Edinburgh. As soon as she had realised that the tall, dirty blonde man who had visited the shop was their singer, she had been intrigued to see him again.

Finn Beatha. That was his name. Aisha had told her, and ever since, his name had resonated in Faye’s mind.

Aisha pushed her way to the bar and waved frantically at the barman until he craned forward; she shouted for two beers over the noise and handed one to Faye.

‘It’s so busy!’ Faye shouted.

‘I know! They’ve got such a following. No one even knew anything about them a year ago. They just came out of nowhere,’ Aisha yelled back. ‘Just look at the lassies in here. Obsessed. Just like us.’ She grinned and took a long drink from her bottled lager.

‘You’re the one obsessed,’ Faye shot back, smiling at Aisha’s excited face, but she was lying. Ever since Finn Beatha had come into the shop, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Not only that, but she had dreamed about him every night, waking full of longing for him.

Each dream was different, but in every one they were making love.

In one dream, Faye sat astride him, naked. In the dream, she could feel her wetness, her readiness for him. She wanted him so badly that she couldn’t wait any longer.

Finn’s hands held her hips, caressed her bottom and thighs, as she lowered herself onto him, crying out in pleasure as she felt his thick, lengthy cock enter her.

That’s it. Good girl. Take all of it. I know you can. I am your destiny.

Shuddering with the delicious feeling of him filling her so completely, she leaned down to kiss him, moving against him in just the right way that meant the whole, long shaft of his cock stroked the most sensitive, aroused parts of her.

Faye had awoken with the first stirrings of her orgasm rippling in her belly, crying out for Finn, desperately missing the sense of his girth and fullness inside her.

She’d had to bring herself to orgasm with her fingers, pushing two of them inside her and circling her clit with the fingers on her other hand.

It had brought her some relief, but she yearned for the way she had felt in the dream.

There had been something so right in the way that their bodies connected; something so complete that it filled her heart with a deep pleasure as well as her body.

In another night’s dream, Finn had held her tight in his muscled arms, her head against his strong chest. He had whispered in her ear, That’s right, just let me play with you like my own little doll, my princess, my queen, good girl, let me take what I want , while he stroked her clit gently.

She had felt so safe, and yet so aroused.

Over and over, his fingers circled her clit in maddeningly slow movements until she felt her orgasm widening across her hips.

As she stiffened, he stroked her entrance, then gently plunged two long, thick fingers inside her, pushing up exactly where she needed it, before slowly drawing them out, then repeating the action until she was moaning loudly against his chest, desperate for release.

Stay with me, Faye , he had crooned in her ear. Good girl. You’re safe. I’m here. Who do you belong to?

You , she had moaned: in that moment, she would have said anything. You, I belong to you. Please.

You belong to me. I own you. I own this hungry little pussy , he had replied. I am your lord and master. Say it.

Yes, you own it. Please, I want…

I am your lord and master , he prompted her.

You are…my lord and master , she repeated, wild with want and need. She would have said anything if it would mean he would allow her release.

You don’t even know what you want. Not yet. He chuckled, and took his hand away.

Please, please , she was groaning as she woke up, her orgasm denied just at the last minute.

In desperation, she had ground her hips against a pillow while touching herself, moaning into her bedcovers as her orgasm had come, finally.

Yet, again, she had felt denied of the real ecstasy that was Finn: the smell of his skin, like sea salt and honey.

The touch of him, and his voice in her ear.

There had been other dreams, one every night, in which their bodies had entwined, in which she had felt that same delight in submitting to him, in which he had held her, positioned her, licked her, kissed her, touched her and fucked her, and each time, her orgasm had been denied, inside the dream.

Each time, she had had to wake up and pleasure herself, which was a poor substitute.

It had left Faye yearning for Finn. Craving him.

And she knew that it was totally unhinged and unreasonable to do so.

For Faye, the prospect of seeing Finn Beatha again was intoxicating.

Every one of her nerves tingled to be in the same room as him, even though he wouldn’t know she was there.

As far as Finn knew, he was just playing a gig with his band.

He had no idea that Faye had developed some kind of strange, obsessively sexual crush on him.

Yet, Faye wondered…the dreams had been so intense, so real…

it was as if she had managed to connect with Finn in the astral realm – the world of dreams, magic and imagination.

She knew it was possible to connect with others in the dream world; she had been raised a witch, by witches, after all.

But it had never happened to her before.

Was that what had been happening? She didn’t know.

‘Nobody knows much about any of them,’ Aisha shouted as she swayed to the background music that was coming from the speakers. ‘Just that they do these amazing gigs. The one I went to before was like an out-of-body experience. I’m not even kidding, Faye. It was like a religious thing.’

Faye had not told Aisha about Finn coming into the shop.

Something in her had been compelled to jealously guard that information.

It was her secret, though she didn’t know why she felt that way.

It was almost as if something outside of her was compelling her not to say anything: to keep silent.

Plus, the strange dreams that had starred him had shaken her.

It was an oddly intense connection, and she almost felt embarrassed to be in the same room as him now.

Even though he had no idea: her dreams were hers, and hers alone. Weren’t they?

Faye had noticed that some of the guys in the bar were staring at her; one or two smiled.

She looked away. She wasn’t used to the attention – not because she wasn’t a beautiful woman, but because she lived such a hermit-like life in Abercolme.

Tending her garden. Working in the shop. Meditating alone on the beach.

Perhaps the dreams had somehow opened her up to a new energy that she was embodying, because the men at the bar didn’t seem to be able to keep their eyes off her.

But though she was uneasy with the attention, at the same time it awoke a similar sensation in her body as her dreams of Finn had: her lips felt fuller, her body tingled with pleasure as if she could feel the men touching her, adoring her.

She had a sudden flash of an image in her mind’s eye of the four men who had been looking at her, two on their knees, taking turns to lick and adore her, the others kissing, sucking and caressing her breasts.

She blinked and looked away. Goddess , she thought, shocked at her own lustful thoughts. She had never thought anything like that before. What is happening to me?

The lights in the bar dimmed and the band walked onto the small stage. There was a deafening roar from the crowd as the stage lights came up and bathed all four in a shifting green, gold and white light. Faye stared up at Finn Beatha, her heart quickening.

There he was, in all his glory, taller and more muscular than she remembered.

She gulped, looking up at him, her whole body aflame with the denied desire that had built up in those dreams where she and Finn Beatha had explored every part of each other’s bodies, where he had possessed her so totally that it left her breathless.

She couldn’t believe he was real. Part of her had assigned him to a dream. Even the day that he had come into the shop seemed tinged with a dreamy unreality.

But he was definitely real.

On stage, Finn was stripped to the waist, and Faye could now see the whole of the tattoo she’d only glimpsed at his neck, that day in the shop.

The tattoo was of a horse, appearing to ride up his body from the right side of his waist, up under his arm and with its head resting on his shoulder.

She couldn’t quite make it out from where she stood, but the part she had seen was the eye of the horse, which was designed as a well of spiralling water.

Faye was reminded of the legend of the kelpie: Scottish water spirits, usually appearing as horses, that could shapeshift into humans.

Grandmother had taught her all the faerie lore, while Moddie had taught Faye what she considered more practical witchcraft: spellcraft, herbs, astrology, divination.

Faye took in the defined lines of Finn’s stomach and chest. A kilt sat on his hips, and he was barefoot under that. His eyes were closed as he played; the music swirled into the audience like a spell itself, weaving the people together.

Lust overtook her, and a sense of intense and illogical jealousy.

Faye had spent all of twenty minutes in the company of this man, but there was something in her that said mine , and she couldn’t help but feel deeply connected to Finn Beatha.

She looked around her, at the rapt faces of the men and women in the crowd, watching him, and a part of her raged against them.