I worked him with my tongue, sliding back to the tip, letting my tongue tease the underside of his shaft. He placed one hand on my hair, tightening his fist around it, but he stopped short of hurting me. He groaned, dropping his head back as I slid back and forth, taking him in then sliding back again, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum on my tongue. I sucked harder, gripping him tightly with my mouth, barely grazing my teeth over the ridges along his cock.

  “Stop, stop now,” he said, panting. His eyes were glowing with magic, and I could feel it rise around him and around me. “Strip and lie down,” he ordered.

  I obeyed, quickly stripping off my clothes and tossing them to the side. Then I backed up to the bed, laying down and bringing my knees up, spreading them wide so he could fully see my pussy.

  “Yes, oh yes,” he said. He knelt between my legs, holding my hips fast as he lowered his head between my thighs. He began to suck the nub of my clit, working me with his tongue, driving me so hard that I began to squirm. I held his head in my hands, holding him against me as I groaned, trying to keep quiet so Grams wouldn’t hear. But trying to keep my voice low only made it more difficult to keep quiet as I bucked against Bran’s tongue.

  He laughed and pressed his lips pressed harder against me. Removing one hand from my hips, he brought it down and slipped his fingers inside me, stroking and thrusting as I gripped against him.

  “I want your cock, I want your cock inside me,” I whispered raggedly. “Fuck me, please fuck me now.”

  Bran laughed again, then rolled to the side, propping himself up on one elbow. “I want to see you fuck yourself,” he said. “Where are your vibrators?”

  Gasping, trying to catch my breath, I pointed toward my nightstand. “Second drawer.”

  Bran yanked open the drawer and brought out the biggest dildo I had—it was a good two inches in diameter, the color of charcoal. “Where’s your lube?”

  He knew where it was, but he wanted to hear me say it. “In the drawer, next to the nipple clamps.”

  Over the past few months Bran had opened my eyes and horizons. He had a number of kinks, and had been slowly initiating me into his world. The magic I took to instantly. We were both witchblood and in bed, the magic amped up the intensity. But Bran liked to play, and sometimes he liked to play a little rough. He never pushed me past my consent, though, and I was starting to understand the nature of mixing pleasure and pain.

  He brought out the lube. I held out one hand and he squirted the slippery gel into my palm. “Work the dildo.”

  I grasped the fat, long silicone dong in my hand, working like I might give him a hand job. I spread the gel over it, and then stopped, waiting his instructions. He liked telling me what to do, and it made me feel sexy and in control because I knew how much it drove him crazy. He called it “topping from below.”

  “Slide the tip inside of you with one hand, while you rub your nipples with the other.” His eyes glittered as his cock remained hard, and he curled his fist around it, rubbing himself as he watched me.

  I slid the head of the dildo just inside my vaj, licking my lips. I felt wanton, a sex kitten eager to please. I ran my other hand over my nipples, circling them the tip of my index finger. Then I squeezed hard, letting out a gasp.

  “Fuck yourself hard.” Bran leaned close, watching me as I began to fuck myself, driving the dildo deep inside.

  I groaned, I was so hot, and all I wanted was release. I began to buck against the silicone cock, squeezing my thighs together. With my other hand I reached down and began to pleasure myself, rubbing hard against my clit, feeling the juices inside my vaj flowing thickly.

  Bran’s voice was hoarse, and he rose to his knees, pulling out a condom from the nightstand. As he rolled it on his cock and lubricated it thickly, I knew what was coming.

  “Keep the dildo inside you and roll over onto your hands and knees,” he said.

  I obeyed, panting heavily.

  He handed me a small vibrator. “Press this against your clit.”

  Again, I obeyed and the moment it was in place he pressed the remote and began to vibrate, sending me into a series of ragged pants. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was behind me. Suddenly, he began to rub my ass with the gel, lubricating thickly. I let out a cry, both wanting and dreading what he was about to do.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I knew he would stop if I wasn’t. “Yes. Please, fuck me.”

  He slid the tip of his cock against me, then began to work his way in, up to the head.

  I bit my lip. He was big and thick, but he took it slowly, and the pain began to mingle with pleasure, and I let out a throaty moan.

  “I love fucking you in the ass,” he grunted, working himself deeper between my butt cheeks. He held onto my hips tightly so I couldn’t move, and all of a sudden he turned the vibrator up, and I felt like I was rocketing out into space. “Do you like this?”

  I nodded, barely able to form sentences.

  “Tell me what I’m doing to you and tell me that you like it.”

  “You’re fucking me up the ass, and I like it.”

  “I want you to come silently. I don’t want you to say a word when you come or I’m going to spank you hard.”

  I was seeing stars, every movement produced one explosion after another in my body. The vibration increased in intensity and as I began to come, Bran began to move, thrusting slowly. I couldn’t take it anymore. I let myself go, tumbling into the orgasm. Unable to control myself, I let out a short shriek. I came hard, then came again and again, my body shivering as the ripples of pleasure raced through me. Bran gave a throaty groan as he came.

  As soon as he was done, he slowly pulled out. Rolling over to sit on the bed, he dragged me across his lap, facedown, and began to spank me. It wasn’t hard enough to leave bruises, but it was hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. Between the orgasm and the spanking, I started to cry. The emotions flooded out of me hard and quick, some from a place so deep that I didn’t know they were there.

  I found myself crying for Rian, and for my cousin Owen, for my father, and everyone I ever loved who had been hurt. I opened up to the pain that I had forced deep down inside of myself. And then I was crying for Faron, and for everything that had happened to bring us to this point.

  Bran turned me over and pulled me into his embrace, holding me so tight that it felt like he would never let go. I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his chest, weeping for sorrows that I had no clue were there. He gently reached down and pulled the dildo out of me, setting it aside, and then went back to holding me. He held me for a good half hour, and though the tears stopped well before that, I pressed against him, feeling protected and safe.

  “Whatever happens, never let me go,” I said.

  “I won’t,” he said. “I promise you, against all the stars of heaven, I won’t let anything tear us apart. I love you, and I want you to be as strong as you can be. And sometimes that means breaking down walls.”

  We sat like that well into the evening. Finally, we slowly broke apart and went to take a shower together. I stared at my ring as it glistened under the water. Funny, I thought, how such a little thing can mean so much. After that we went to bed, and I slept hard, without dreams, without disturbances, until the morning light.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning, Bran left early. He had a lot of work to do, cleaning up the gardens for the winter and collecting the last of the crops. Occasionally he and his mother grew winter crops—broccoli and cauliflower, and other cold-hardy produce. But this year, given they had to replace the barn and everything else that had happened, they had chosen to forgo a winter harvest.

  As I entered the kitchen, feeling slightly sore from the night before but a whole lot calmer, Grams glanced up at me. Her eyes were twinkling, but she said nothing.

  “Can we go for a ride today?” Fancypants asked, landing next to me on the counter. “I feel like flying around somewhere else. Maybe the water.”

  “I suppose we can do that,” I said. “I can take my father’s journal and read while you fly. We can go to Oracle Park.”

  Oracle Park was on the edge of the bay. It had access to the shore, and a roped-off area for swimmers. This time of year, there wouldn’t be any swimmers unless they were scuba diving, but there were plenty of logs to sit on and picnic tables, and it was a quiet spot. The park was large enough that it offered hiking trails, along with simple walks along the shore. But in November, there wouldn’t be many people there.

  Fancypants jumped up and down on the counter, puffs of steam coming from his nose. He flapped his wings. “Thank you.”

  Grams handed me a plate of eggs and bacon, along with a small fruit bowl. “I know it’s the holidays, but we’re going to eat sensibly at least part of the time.”

  “I know, I know. I’m going to hit the gym this afternoon. Do you want to come with me?” Grams actually joined me at the gym part of the time. For a hundred-twenty-plus years old, she was spry on her feet. She did mild weight training, and walked on the elliptical.

  “Not today,” she said. “I’m meeting the inspector about the house, and after that, providing all goes well, May and I are going shopping for curtains and bath mats and whatever I’ll need when I move.”

  “You know the inspector won’t find anything wrong, don’t you?”

  “I can see it. Sometimes my long vision is a bit tenuous, but the Sight is so strong that I trust it implicitly. This house is meant to be mine. If there’s anything at all wrong, it won’t take much to fix. Besides, the ghost told me everything’s all right.”

  “Well, I hope you two get along famously. Just…please, don’t enjoy living with her more than you enjoy living with me.” I sniffed, affecting a pout.

  “Oh, go on with you. You know I love you, and you know I love living with you. But you need your own space. Especially now with your young man, and possibly your other young man.” She winked at me, and I blushed. “Make your latte.”

  I finished my breakfast and made my latte, returning to the table. “Are we cooking this afternoon?”

  “I don’t think so. We’ll make the cranberry sauce and the rolls tomorrow. And we’ll need to buy sweet potatoes and green beans. You know, given that May, Bran, and Bree are coming, Thanksgiving might be enjoyable at that. I suppose you’re still serious about looking for that letter?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I am. Bran and Bree are going to help me. If you could keep my mother out of the house for a while, it would help.”

  “All right. Anything to help you. Now, be off with you. Fancypants looks like he is champing at the bit to get out of here.” She grinned, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll probably be gone by the time you get home. I’ll see you later today.”

  And with that, we were both off to our day’s chores.

  Oracle Park was empty, as I had predicted. I walked down to the water’s edge, watching over the glistening surface as it ruffled in the wind. Fancypants caught an updraft, riding the air currents like a kite. He let out a squeal of glee, and began divebombing at me, pulling up short each time. I sat down at the picnic table near the edge of the bay, then pulled my father’s journal out of my tote and set it on the table. I glanced around. Seeing no one else nearby, I opened the page to the next entry.

  But to my surprise, the next three entries were everyday observations. He wrote about me, about how much he loved me, and how angry he was at my mother for ignoring her duties.

  I rested my elbows on the table, trying to remember. Had my mother truly neglected me? Was my father my primary caregiver? Everything seemed kind of a blur, until the night that he died. But then, as I let my mind wander, I slowly began to recall loud voices, arguments happening after I went to bed. And then, a memory crept out of the fog.

  “What the hell are you thinking, Catharine?” My father’s voice echoed through the house, so loud that I could hear it from my bed. I sat up, squinting as I listened. I didn’t understand everything, but the words rang loud in my ears.

  “Why do you think it’s my job to raise her? I gave birth to her and that’s the hard work. I love her, but I can’t stand it when she clings to me. You know how it bothers me.”

  “I realize that you have a sensory issue. I realize that it makes your skin crawl to have people touch you when you aren’t ready for it. But you’re going to have to get over it. She’s your daughter.” My father sounded so angry. “Deal with it!”

  I scooted back toward the headboard, pulling the covers up to my chest. I didn’t like it when he was angry. He seldom yelled at me, but still—raised voices meant the fiery mist that I saw around angry people would be hovering. And that fire threatened to burn me every time I was near.

  “Maybe,” my mother said, her voice softening, “I could deal with it if it’d been my choice to have a child. I didn’t get a say in the matter.”

  “I didn’t force you into bed,” my father said.

  “No, but when the condom broke, you didn’t give me a choice. When the test came back positive, you and your mother decided for me. When I broached the possibility of an abortion—when I told you I wasn’t ready and didn’t think I had the ability to take on the responsibility, you threatened to leave me. You gave me an ultimatum. The reason I said yes, the reason that she’s here with us now, is because I loved you enough to give up my life for you. The life I might’ve had.”

  Even as young as I was, I knew they were talking about me. I always knew that my mother didn’t want me. Oh, she loved me—she made that clear and I didn’t doubt it. But she didn’t want me around. I had always thought it was because I took all the attention away from her. But now, remembering, I wondered if she truly wasn’t capable of raising a child. I had forgotten all about the indicators that she might have mental health issues beyond the superficial ones I ascribed to her. And now, it hit me that there were things that my mother wanted to do that my presence had prevented. Wondering why she didn’t pursue them after I left home, I shook the memory out of my head and returned to the journal.

  As I flipped to the next entry, Fancypants spiraled toward me in a dive bomb, shrieking “Whee!” all the way.

  Startled, I jumped and ducked as he pulled up short, laughing.

  “Don’t scare me that!” I exclaimed. But his silly grin and twinkling eyes cut through my irritation. “Oh, come here. You silly thing.”

  Fancypants glided over and settled on the picnic table next to me. He looked delighted with himself, and I stroked him between the eyes. He purred, and then was aloft again, flying over toward the treeline.

  “Don’t go too far,” I said. “I don’t want to have to come find you.”

  As he flew off, I returned to my father’s diary. I thumbed through several more entries focused on his daily life, then came to a short entry that stopped me cold.

  I had hoped things would calm down, but I can see now that there is going to be no peace for me. And that means there will be no peace for my wife and my child. They caught me in the parking lot tonight, after I stowed the groceries in the backseat. I looked up to find two of them there, and they reminded me that I signed a contract with them. If I can’t make this work, I’m in serious trouble. I was so sure that I had a handle on this, and that nothing would interfere. I thought my powers were strong enough, but everything’s falling apart. It’s beginning to look like there’s only one way out to save Catharine and Elf, but I have a few more things to try first. Then, we’ll see.

  “Magic. My father got in trouble over something magical, but it also has something to do with money—that much I know,” I whispered. I tried to think back to our circumstances when I was four or five years old. Were we poor? Did we have enough money to pay the bills? That wasn’t something children usually thought about. I didn’t remember being hungry, and we stayed in the house after my father died. But if the contract had been with him exclusively, would they have come after my mother?

  Once again, it seemed there were so many pieces to the puzzle, and I didn’t have the framework in which to place them. When you were dealing with scattered pieces, knowing where to begin was like trying to find the end of the thread in a tangle of yarn.

  I flipped through the rest of the journal but only saw a few more pages. The next three entries were brief, and they were all equations that I didn’t understand. I had no clue what my father had been trying to calculate, but at the end of each one there was a bright red checkmark. The diary ended abruptly with the last entry.

  It’s not going to work. I’ve done my best but I can’t figure out the formula. I was so sure, absolutely positive that I could do this. And now, what’s going to happen? I’ve made promises to a lot of powerful people and creatures along the way, and they expect results.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen—I’m so tired. I’ve been working 24/7. But something in my formula is off, and the magic isn’t holding true. It’s too volatile and I don’t dare loose it into the wild. I’m not the genius I thought I was, and I suppose that might be a good thing, considering everything involved.

  I thought I could play the villain for money, but when it comes down to the end, I can’t. I know that my days are numbered, and I know my baby girl is going to grow up without me. I pray and hope that Catharine won’t flake out on her.

  I’ve kept my wife in the dark, and I can’t leave her holding the baggage that I’ve incurred, either financial or emotional. I can only see one option… One chance to make things right. But I’m afraid. I’m so afraid. I have no one to blame but myself and my greed. I’m hiding this diary, and hopefully, when everything’s blown over, the right person will find it. With luck, Catharine will find the letter that I left her.

  I set all my affairs in order, and I’ve locked up my daughter’s trust in an ironclad contract. No one can take it away from her, regardless of the situation. So at least I’ve done that part right. I’m going to make one last-ditch effort, but I don’t hold much hope with it. There’s still one thing I haven’t tried, but I have to find Yanak. He’s my only hope now, in a world where little hope exists. As Percival said, “When all lights are dim, when shadow covers the road, one candle can save a life.” And Yanak is my candle.