Page 11 of Witches and Wine (The Mythical Mates of Arcane Cove #1)

My core clenched at the sound of his voice, and I gripped each side of the doorway, impatiently waiting for him to open it.

“You have a lot of nerve—” Dion started but stood still when he saw me. His amber eyes flared to life as he roamed my attire beneath the jacket, which was unabashedly hanging open. “Well, fuck. Hi, Chelsea.”

I had no intentions of beating around the bush during my trek over here and had zero plans to change my mind now. “I’m a witch,” I breathed out.

Dion arched a brow. “A?—”

“A witch, Dion. I’m a witch ,” I repeated, that same white magic sparking and sputtering at my fingertips as if it were trying to figure things out as much as I was.

A devilish grin edged Dion’s lips, and he hung one arm on the doorframe above us. “Well, fuck .”

An unfamiliar, welcoming fire coiled in my belly, and it was enough to make me throw all caution to the wind, not to think or rationalize and go with precisely what I wanted.

Dionysus . I leaped, wrapping my arms around his neck and crashing my mouth to his.

Dion groaned against my lips. He cradled me with one arm secured under my ass while the other whisked the door shut with a loud, satisfying bam .

Still holding me with that same single, sexy arm, he carried me into the kitchen, our mouths devouring the other, tongues dancing like it was the twentieth time we’d kissed versus the first. My fingers tangled in his wavy, raven locks, and when he adjusted his grip, my pelvis pressed tighter against the carved abs I could feel beneath his tank.

My budding magic sputtered from my hands, making some of Dion’s hair smoke.

Gasping, I peeled away and patted it like embers had formed as if I was that adept with my power yet. “Dion, this just started happening. I have no idea what I’m doing with it or?—”

He silenced me with a soft kiss and sat me on the marble kitchen counter, my feet dangling from the edge. Peeling half my jacket over one shoulder, letting his finger graze my skin, he said, “Then lay it all on me, Red. I can handle it.”

I curled my legs around his waist and pulled him between my thighs, shrugging the jacket off and away.

My hands became tools of frantic, denied desires and greedily clawed at Dion’s shirt and pants.

A masculine chuckle bubbled from the wine god’s throat, and he snatched my wrists, kissing the inside of one palm and then the other.

Grinning, he pressed his hands on each side of my hips, leaning over me until his lips hovered near my ear. “Is my wicked witch greedy ?”

Hearing him call me that for the first time sent me over the edge, and in answer, I wrapped my hand in his tank top and tore it away.

I’d half expected the smile on his face to fade when he realized I ruined his shirt, but the grin only broadened, those mischievous canines elongating and pressing ever so slightly into his bottom lip.

I let out a shuddering breath at the sight of this man, this god’s torso.

I’d only ever seen his chiseled arms and that wrapping black ivy tattoo on his left shoulder and bicep, but to gaze at his chest and that stomach —I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to mine.

Dion returned the kiss, his beard brushing my chin, reddening it. His hands slid up my ribs and under my camisole, and he paused, kissing me only long enough to whisk it over my head. He gripped my hair in one palm while the other dove for my breast, kneading it and tweaking the nipple.

“Lay back,” Dion commanded, stepping away to undo his belt, capturing me with his gaze, enticing me to watch him.

Leaning back on my elbows, I chewed on my thumbnail as he slid the pants down, taking the briefs underneath with them to reveal his thickness—hard and ready.

My wildest imagination couldn’t have conjured any of this.

He prowled forward, tracing his hardened palms up my thighs, a low growl emanating from his chest as he ogled his prize.

Small claws formed in place of his nails, and I shuddered at the sensation of them scraping my skin without any threat of puncturing.

It made me all the more curious about the beastly side of Dion he’d spoken of briefly.

His fingers curled into my shorts, and he slid them down my legs, tossing them aside and immediately spreading my knees apart.

Dion’s growling intensified as he took me in, staring at what lay between my thighs.

He pulled me to the edge of the counter by the backs of my knees and sunk a finger inside me without preamble, and my back arched, a low shrill pushing from my lungs.

“Shit, Red. You’re already so wet for me,” Dion said, his voice extra husky.

Panting, I reached for his arm, sinking my nails into it once I’d found it. “Dion, I need you inside me right now like I need oxygen to breathe .”

I wasn’t kidding. Whether it’d been my continued denial of what I wanted or this new revelation of my true self and power, the ache in my core was driving me mad.

“Well, then. That’s all you had to say,” Dion snarled before positioning himself at my entrance and slowly pushing in until our hips met.

“Oh, fucking gods,” I cried out, grabbing Dion’s shoulders for purchase.

He drove into me like a bear with his mate, and the sensation of it, the ferocity of it, had me unintentionally backpedaling on the counter.

Dion wouldn’t let me get away, though. He kept tugging me toward him with every thrust. My arms flailed behind me, knocking over several opened, half-full wine bottles, splashing their contents onto the marble, the floor, and my skin .

A devious glint formed in Dion’s eyes, and he paused, grabbed another bottle, and poured some over my chest. He bent to my breasts, sucking and licking away the wine while continuing to pump in and out of me.

“Open your mouth,” Dion beckoned softly and when I did, he poured some of the wine past my lips. I’d recognized the taste from last night—ambrosia wine. The tingling sensation hit my spine instantaneously, and his movements inside me became tenfold. I clenched around him, back arching again.

“Come for me, Chels,” he asked, lapping up some more of the wine that collected in the dip between my collarbones.

Dion’s filthy words were enough to send me straight to oblivion, and I cried out, my knees pressing against his ribs as I shivered blissfully through my release.

My power surged through my veins, releasing from my fingertips and palms as swirly white wisps that made the surrounding lights flicker and the glasses in the cabinets clang together.

His hips slowed, moving in languid strokes, his head lowering to my lips, wine dribbling from his mouth into mine.

I swallowed it as his tongue dove inside.

Grabbing the tops of my thighs, Dion bucked and thrust harder now, faster, until he stilled, his grip tightening on my legs, those claws puckering against my skin.

He let out the sexiest, most satisfied masculine groan as he came undone inside me, giving one final pump before collapsing over me.

His forearms caged my head, and he smiled down at me, gaze marveling at the wine stains glistening on my skin.

“I can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that before.” I covered my eyes with a hand, biting back an embarrassed smile.

Dion wasn’t having it and peeled my fingers away, holding my palm hostage against his. “Done what exactly? Fuck a god as a witch, or be that impulsive?”

“When you put it that way, both, I guess.”

Dion snickered and traced infinity symbols through the wine still glazing my stomach. “This is only the beginning, Red.”

It hadn’t occurred to me in the heat of the moment, but something he’d done made me freeze, and I propped on an elbow, gazing down at him still resting inside me. “That is uh—that isn’t going to be a potential problem, is it?”

Dion let his head droop before kissing my clammy forehead. “Oh, Chelsea. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. The Fates have to bless such a thing directly, and they haven’t even so much as glanced in my direction since I was a tadpole in my dad’s ball sack.”

Grimacing at that, I let my finger roam his ivy tattoo. “Was that not a clause that applied to your dad? To Zeus?”

“Fate designed his actions. Most of us wouldn’t exist, wouldn’t be living out our destinies if it weren’t for it, but there’s a lot to unpack there.” Dion pressed a chaste kiss to my lips and slowly pulled out of me, pressing a hand to my lower back to help me sit up. “My family is—complicated.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, sliding from the counter and rubbing my arms. “Apparently, so is mine.” Frowning at the thought, I moved for the expansive windows overlooking Arcane Cove.

Most of it consisted of thick forests with towering canopies, but at night, the town’s center would blaze with street lamps and neon lighting, and the moon would glow brightly over it all.

“I’m sure she had her reasons for not telling you,” Dion said from behind me, his brawny arms like a security blanket wrapping around my waist from behind. “Do you often let a whole town see you naked, or is this something new too?”

Gasping, realizing I was standing in front of a wall of windows without a singular article of clothing on, I went to cover myself with my arms, but Dion held me steadfast. “What? The idea of other people seeing me naked doesn’t make you jealous?”

“No,” he responded gruffly, his nose grazing my jaw. “Because at the end of the day, I am the one inside you.”

My core swooped, wetness forming between my thighs again. “Is this going to change things between us, Dion?”

“Yes.”

Frowning, I whipped around to face him, searching his expression for an answer to his abruptness. “Why?”

“When, since the dawn of creation, did sex not change something between beings? Between animals, even?” Dion lifted the pentagram pendant on my necklace and held it in his palm for a beat. “You always go straight to the negative. Change isn’t always so.”

He was right. Discovering my new magical self was helping me figure out my human side as much as the new one.

“Oh, my—Dion, your floor ,” I exclaimed, pointing at the red wine stains on his hardwood floors and white carpet.

“Ain’t no thing, sweetheart.” Without turning around, Dion snapped his fingers, and the mess was gone as if it never existed. Several filled and corked wine bottles rested on the counter in place of the ones I’d spilled.

Lifting my hand, I snapped my fingers, trying to turn off the lights, or levitate something, or virtually do anything .

No white magic flowed from my fingertips like it had before, not even pathetic sputters.

“I don’t understand it. It was glitchy at best, but I can’t get it to do it again.

How am I supposed to be a witch if I can’t even turn off a damn light on command? How do I—” There went the panic again.

Dion yanked me to him and pressed his chest to the side of my head.

“I don’t know a lot about witches, but I do know their powers can manifest in times of trauma or intense emotion.

In your case, that was the discovery and—” An animalistic snarl vibrated in his chest. “—what we just did in my kitchen.”

“It just happened, though. I couldn’t do it on purpose if I tried.”

Dion grabbed my shoulders and coaxed me back. “Come to the club tonight.”

“You mean the one you’ve owned this entire time and never bothered to tell me?” I folded my arms and raised a brow.

“Don’t give me that. I had no idea you were a witch and all walks of magical life come into that place. It would’ve been a lot to take in for you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I fought the compulsion to roll my eyes and instead cast my gaze to my bare feet, wiggling my toes.

“Come to the club, dress in something saucy, and I guarantee you I’ll show you the night of your life, Chels. Maybe it’ll spark something.”

The thought of dancing with him surrounded by other celestial beings tugged an excited smile to my lips. “Alright. And don’t think I haven’t forgotten that you still owe me several more client introductions.” I pointed a finger in his face.

Playfully, he nipped at it, those sharper canines still pronounced. “There’s hardball Stewart. And I’m still good for it.” Dion crossed the room, his gorgeous muscular bronzed ass flexing as he picked up my jacket. “I’ll port you home.”

“Home?” My voice came out as a disappointed squeak.

Dion curled the jacket around my shoulders, rubbing them through the fabric. “Miss me already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, swatting him, but honestly, yes.

“I have to go do mundane club ownership shit, and you should rest with your ferret curled against your side.” Dion cupped my chin. “And then we’ll have all night, Red.”

“Riley? Curl up with Riley? He’s connected to me somehow, isn’t he?”

Nodding, Dion, still very naked, ported us to my apartment. “I forget the term witches use for them, but yeah, I believe he is.”

As if on cue, Riley bolted from his carpet tower and scurried figure eights against my ankles.

“I do feel exhausted.”

Swaggering, Dion’s bared cock twitching, he dragged a hand through his hair. “I tend to have that effect.”

My cheeks warmed, and I grinned at him, unable to disagree.

Dion let his gaze roam my face and hair before pressing a sensual, toe-curling kiss to my lips. “Satiation looks good on you, Red.”

Humming, I lifted to the balls of my feet, not wanting the kiss to end or him to leave, for that matter. I’d become addicted to him and had no explanation for it other than how godsdamned sexy he was and his many—talents. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Get some rest,” Dion demanded, pointing to my bedroom down the hall. “And take it easy. Your powers will come. You have to be patient.”

“You say that like you’ve been around for thousands of years or something.” I gave him a sleepy smile, my eyes growing heavy.

Chuckling, he traced a thumb over my lip. “Until tonight, mágissa .”

The god of wine and frenzy ported away, leaving only faint wisps of burgundy mist and ivy.