The Witch Queen of Halloween

Rök groaned when Poppy released his lip, but he couldn’t  quite settle in.

With each flare of lightning, the draped statues seemed to creep closer. The faces in the portraits appeared to sneer before shifting back to grim disapproval. “For our first time, I imagined taking you to a nicer place.”

She removed her bag and jacket. “Oh, really? You would’ve screwed me in that restaurant parking lot, and don’t you deny it.” He had to grin. “Besides, I’m a witch, you’re a demon, and it’s Halloween. If two mercs like us were ever going to get it on, it should be in a place with flickering chandeliers, wandering-eye portraits, and Casper-like dust covers. The setting isn’t romantic. But it fits.”

His mate had a point. “Never dull with you, Poppy. Though shouldn’t we be searching for the castle’s battery so we can get the hell out?”

“It might not even be here, but gateways to other realms could be. What if we stumble across one? I mean, something happened to the previous explorers.”

Another good point. Those Loreans had been strong and skilled, yet some circumstance or enemy had bested them.

She checked her watch. “I vote we stay here until closer to moonset, then exit the castle the way we entered.”

At least here they had a clear vantage.

“Which gives us some time.” She made short work of her boots and jeans. When she peeled off her top, all his protests were forgotten.

This is the vantage I want, he thought as she removed her bra to uncover a bounty: pert, creamy flesh tipped with coral-hued nipples. Fondling and kissing those breasts in the attic had been just a tease. He reached forward to cup her, learn her. He leaned in to bury his face between the mounds, inhaling her scent.

Poppy. Breathe her in.

Neanderthalian? He felt like it. He wanted to pin her down on furs before a fire and rut her like an animal.

Yet at the same time he needed to cherish her. He faced her again. “Poppy . . .”

“Your eyes are ablaze.”

As smoke drifted from his skin, he admitted, “Lust is about to overwhelm me, and yet my feelings for you are infinitely stronger.” When the visitors had captured him, he’d had no thoughts of self-preservation, only fear for her. Suddenly, he’d become more than himself. Rök had assumed that would happen as he claimed his mate; instead, it’d happened as he’d been about to lose her. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

She tenderly cupped his cheek. “Being with your mate is so different?”

“Oh yeah. Not only because you’re my fated one.” He exhaled a breath. “I just . . . I like you, Red. Always have.”

“I like you too, Rök.” They shared a grin until she slid out of her panties, stupefying him. “If you don’t hold back with me, I won’t hold back with you.”

Transfixed by her lush sex, he rubbed his tongue over a fang.

“This will probably work best if you remove your clothes too. Rök?”

“Huh? Ah! On it.” He unbuckled, yanked, and tugged. Stripped before her, that same electrical anticipation before battle hit him—not because his life was on the line but because his future was. This woman was his future. After endless eternities of waiting . . .

Nothing had ever mattered more than what they were about to do. No job. No insurrection. No battle.

“Are you planning to bite me?” she asked.

“Up to you.” He’d gone for casual, but his gaze was rapt on her neck and his voice rumbled, his very vocal cords changing as he grew demonic. “It’ll mark you forever. You ready for forever?”

She lay back on the divan, a fiery beauty well aware of her effect on him. “Convince me.”

“Teasing witch.” He moved between her thighs, rolling her nipples till her hips rocked and the scent of her arousal grew undeniable. Then he caressed down her torso, running the backs of his fingers over her mons.

Lids heavy, Poppy let her arms fall over her head, her knees opening wide in invitation.

Quaking from the effort not to fall upon her, he lowered his hand to her sex. His reverent fingers played with her moisture, daubing it on her clit, making everything slick. When he delved one finger inside, the feel of her tight channel threatened to rob him of his new seed.

It struck him: I could get a pup on her. “Are you on anything?”

She shook her head, red locks gleaming on the divan. “I can drink a tea in the morning, and we’ll be good.”

He was about to give her his seed. Still in disbelief, he worked a second finger inside her sheath, filling her until she gave a throaty moan. Like him, she neared her peak.

“Ah-ah. Don’t come till I’m inside you.” He thrust his fingers. Spread them inside her. Withdrew them. Thrust them deeper.

She shamelessly met his hand. “I’m ready, Rök!” She was, her body opening for him like a bloom.

“How am I doing so far? Earning forever yet?”

Even as tension built in them both, she joked, “One last part of you I want to test-drive before I sign on the dotted line.”

“Then let’s get you behind the wheel.” He slipped his fingers free and positioned himself in the cradle of her thighs. This is actually going to happen. When she nodded, he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Eyes luminous—with arousal—she said, “If you think you can handle it.”

For the first time in his long life, he wondered. . . .