Page 31

The weeks had flown by. It really hadn’t been a surprise when the first real chill of October had set in the previous evening, that Sherry had opened her arms and her heart to him. After dinner, she’d turned on a horror film and brought them dessert to share in front of the screen.

She’d fallen in love over apple pie and ice cream. He’d turned to her after lowering the volume and feeding some more wood to the already roaring fire in the hearth. Those clever hands of his swept away her blouse and bra without her even noticing.

Before long, Seff had stripped off her skirt and her underthings, baring her flesh to his eyes and mouth. He’d murmured words of praise and tender endearments as he kissed and touched her in the most wonderful ways. Her body trembled at the memory of how he’d made the sweetest love to her.

Sherry’s eyes stung, but still she felt no regret. It had been mutual and wonderful. Seff had skillfully seduced her willing body, building pleasure until she could no longer hide who and what she was.

The magic that had always been a part of her had pulsed from within as her senses became lost in his touch. In the end, it was her eyes that had given her away. In her ecstasy, they’d changed color as they were known to do. First hazel, then gold, and finally, to a deep, glowing amethyst.

“Sherry? Are you okay? Your eyes are different. They’re changing color and glowing, but you, you’re not a Shifter? I’d smell it on you. Oh God, you’re a Witch!” He’d been surprised at first, but still, he had not scurried away.

“Yes, it’s true, I am a Witch and I know you are a Werewolf.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was laced with sadness and awe.

“Because I know how your Alpha feels about us. Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t think I can,” he whispered.

“Are you not afraid?”

With his thickness still buried inside her pulsing cleft, Sherry had feared his withdrawal more than she’d cared to admit. He’d looked at her with his own brilliant brown eyes glowing, his Wolf shone brightly in them.

Caught up in wave after wave of passion and desire, he’d kissed her lips, claiming them with his own. Seff played her body like a master. Every touch, every movement, every meeting of their lips had culminated into a symphony of pleasure that grew and grew until she could no longer bear it.

“The only thing I am afraid of is how much I want you.”

He pushed himself deeper inside of her heat. Grinding into her core while his lips did marvelous things to her neck and, finally, the tips of her breasts that ached with need.

He seemed to know instinctively how and where to touch and kiss. His hips drove in and out of her, the friction of his muscular body against her soft one created a feeling of pure ecstasy with each powerful thrust.

He sucked her tongue into his mouth, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh of her lower lip.

Electric bolts of pleasure zipped down her spine, right to her core as he swirled his hips and stroked her deep inside.

His scent filled her nostrils, clean and fresh with a spicy musk that was all him.

She wondered briefly if she would ever wash those sheets again.

She could breathe in the scent of him forever.

“Oh God. Sherry, you feel like fucking heaven. So damn good.” He growled and thrust faster, losing himself in her heat.

She welcomed his loss of control, reaching up and scratching her nails down his back. Whispering words in his ear that she’d be embarrassed to say in the light of day. But not right then and not with Seff.

They spent the entire night together. Between bouts of exquisite lovemaking, they’d talked, really talked.

She’d told him of her magic, and he’d told her of his brother and his place within the Macconwood Pack.

He’d been young when his parents had died, and he’d had to rely on Zev Maccon to provide for them.

Sherry could have wept for the little boy he’d been, but he’d silenced her tears with more kisses. They came together again on the rug and once more on the bed. Their bodies spent, but still hungry for one another.

Seff was a fantastic lover. Just as she’d expected. Each encounter more passionate, more urgent, until Sherry was certain she’d declared her love for him aloud. How could she not when every fiber of her being wanted to shout it from the rooftops?

Expecting him to be skilled was one thing, losing her heart and soul in the span of one night was quite another. She’d never felt that way in all her long years on the earth.

Being magically inclined, she did not age the same as normals and was older than she looked.

Not that age mattered, Wolves and shifters shared similar traits and Seff was also older than any normal would have guessed.

Still, it was the first time she wanted to claim and be claimed in turn, by anyone as mate .

Though more modern in marital practices than most Shifters, Witches did still believe in the concept of true mates. Some went so far as to blame the Fates who they said sometimes took a keen interest in the bedfellows of one Witch or other.

One thing Sherry had heard all her life was that when the mating instinct began in a supernatural being, it was difficult to quell. Sometimes impossible.

Sherry had grown up with tales of Witches gone mad when kept from mating with the one the Fates had chosen for them.

One of her own ancestors was such a Witch.

Others of course, did not believe in true mates.

Still, they married, had children, and lived productive lives.

And others still, wasted away for wont of their true mates, choosing solitary lives until they perished from the loneliness.

Being magical in no way guaranteed happiness. As she could now attest to. Sherry stemmed the flow of tears that threatened to overcome her as she watched the play of sunlight on the folded note. She inhaled and caught his scent on her skin and in the air.

It was unfortunate, that she, one of the most powerful Witches of the last age, one who had denied the whims of her heart for many years, had finally let the blasted organ free, only to have it betray her.

Her foolish heart had chosen most unsuitably. A Werewolf who would put his Pack before her. Oh Seff.

The object of her desire had slipped away during the night. Slipped away like the thief he was. True, he left her a note. A note! The dog!

She opened it and could have howled her rage. He told her to forget about him, he explained that he had nothing to give her.

We have no future. Last night is in the past. Forget me.

Sherry grieved for what could have been, but she was not one to wallow. Head held high, she set the note aflame with but a wave of her ring adorned hands. She packed up the small apartment with another flick of her wrist and was gone within the hour.

Forget the Wolf and move on.

If only it was that easy.

Read more here: The Witch and the Werewolf