Page 24 of Trickery

Drawn to him, she stepped forward.

Behind her, she heard the restless rustle as the other postulants recognized defeat. She heard the whispers, the outrage, the denials of her coven. But it was all muted, silenced, by his presence.

Slowly, she raised her hand. He took it.

A hush fell over the glen.

“This is Damien,” the Great Warlock announced. “He is my son.”

“Damien.” His name was a whisper on her lips.

“Willow.”

They walked together, hand in hand, to the altar. She tried to pull her gaze from his, to glance around at all the watchers, but couldn’t bear to look away. She wanted to drink him in, fill herself with him, be quenched by him.

As they approached the great stone altar, her body thrummed, preparing itself for him. He stepped on the dais and brought her up beside him.

But instead of lifting her onto the altar as he was supposed to do, he fell to his knees.

Willow blinked. Midea had not prepared her for this. A man on his knees before a woman meant one thing and one thing only—no matter what the society.

He knelt there on the hard stone and held her hand and looked up into her eyes. “I’m so pleased you chose me, Willow.” These words were whispered, for her ears only, but what he said next was for the whole company. A very public declaration. “I, Damien DeWinter, pledge myself to you Willow Ostreth, for now and forever more.”

She shivered. This was a portentous pronouncement, to be sure, but there was an undercurrent here, a tantalizing trail of…something that led her to believe it was even more important than she suspected. What it was, she couldn’t quite unravel.

“Do you accept my troth?”

“Yes.” The word came. No thoughts prompted it. She just opened her mouth and let her heart speak for her. One look at his face and she knew—just knew—she’d said the right thing. He fairly glowed with satisfaction.

He stood and lifted her then onto the stone altar and, while she was still sitting, kissed her. His lips were strong and firm and familiar. She was drawn into the embrace, forgetting about the watchers, forgetting about the altar, forgetting about the ceremony and focusing only on him.

His hand was heavy and warm on her thigh. With a shock, she realized it was under her gown. She murmured and shifted her legs farther apart, knowing—just knowing—it was what he wanted. He groaned in appreciation and let his fingers trail higher and higher still. And then he caressed her, found her center and pressed in. His finger was gentle on her clit but she gasped anyway at his touch. Because as he brushed it, it swelled. His other hand found her breast and he teased one nipple, then the other. She shifted restlessly as a damp, warm rain fell.

“Please,” she whispered, but he heard her. He understood. He cradled her head in his palms and laid her down on the altar, and then levered himself beside her, over her.

He looked down at her face and grinned. She couldn’t help but respond. There was just something about him that warmed her. She felt as though she’d always known him.

“I’m not crazy about doing this here,” he murmured. His thumb rubbed her nipple. She sighed at the pleasure of his touch.

“Why not?”

He glanced around the clearing. “Everyone’s watching.”

She giggled. “They’re supposed to.”

“Still…” He winked at her. “We’ll have to keep it clean.” He kissed her, trailing his lips over hers and then down her cheek. His tender touch drifted from her breast to her knee and he pulled up the hem of her gown. He was careful not to expose her to the watching eyes. Willow was rather impressed with his technique.

He slipped his hand under her dress, found her, touched her.

A great wash of arousal rose in her at his touch. But then she realized it wasn’t just her excitement she felt. She tasted his as well, multicolored skeins of it, dancing through her, caressing her, tangling with her chi. A sharp shard of excitement slashed through her as the proof of his interest nudged her thigh. She moved her leg deliberately against it. He froze and growled playfully under his breath, “Little minx.”

She batted her lashes. “I am really very horny, you know. They’ve given me a potion.”

“Have they?”

She nodded.

His fingers were thick and strong. They slipped inside her and filled her. She arched her back and spread her legs farther.