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Chapter Five
Claire
Since the day I’d presented to Jack, it had become nearly physically painful to be in his presence. He made the witch in me wake up with a magic so old and primal that it sometimes scared me. That witch inside me wanted to bond with him, mate with him, have him so deep inside me he wouldn’t be able to part from me for hours, if not days.
I could calm that little witch from time to time. It took spells, magic, and potions, but I could convince her to settle down, sit in the corner and be a good witch.
What couldn’t be charmed into submission was my heart. I could fool my body. My mind, saturated with the ugly logic that came from knowing Jack didn’t want me, could almost convince itself that I hated him.
My heart, however, knew that I would wait until the end of time for Jack Beaumont, even if it meant a long, lonely life of wanting and needing.
Still, as long as I could sate that ravenous need in me, I could tell my heart to shut the fuck up. It’s what I had been doing for years, and mostly, it worked.
When I’d finally settled down after the excitement of the night, I dragged out the candles, placed them around my bedroom, and lit each one with intention and purpose. This was a common ritual in my life, one that I’d depended on since the day Jack had rejected me.
Grabbing the well-worn grimoire from the bottom shelf of the worn bookshelf in my room, I made my way to the center of the book and let the tome fall open. The book was old and weathered. My grandmother had handed it down to me. Traditionally, the witches in my family handed down grimoires only after a witch had found her mate or — at the very least — had declared herself a free, unmated witch.
My grandmother, however, had gifted me a tome that I knew was meant for a witch who was already bound to her mate. A witch who was ready to navigate everything from a sexual relationship with that mate to motherhood. The first time I’d looked through the book, some of the spells had made me ache. There were spells to help learn the sex of an unborn child. Spells to help a baby sleep through the night. Even spells to deal with difficult family members.
I’d tried a couple of those, much to my mother’s annoyance.
But my grandmother had given me this grimoire not long after Jack had rejected me. I’d never told her what had happened, but she had known. Years later, she had told me she’d woken that night, screaming out in her sleep. Grandmother had a connection with all her offspring and her offspring’s offspring. No matter how large the family tree became, she retained a solid connection with each of us.
I knew the reason my grandmother had given me the grimoire was nestled at the back of the volume. The pages were so worn that the book now fell open to the exact page I always needed. The words on the pages were written in black India ink and, although the book was centuries old, the ink looked as if it had only been laid down days before. The script looked slick and wet in the candlelight.
Using the book was more habit than necessity. I knew the words to the spell by heart now. The spell, along with the potions I concocted once a month in my kitchen, was the only thing that kept me sane. The only thing that kept me from getting in my car, driving out to Jack’s cabin on the edge of town and demanding that he rut me until I could no longer walk.
Demanding that he love me.
As I curled my legs beneath me atop the bed, I centered myself between this world and a world that brimmed with magic and intention. Calling on the moon, I repeated the words that were so rote to me by now, I heard them in my dreams.
Goddess Eternal
Hear your child
Soothe her heart
Bless her mind
In the absence of her mate
Lay upon her the hands of the fates
The spell was not just any suppression spell. It was a spell that bound itself with the connection to my mate. The spell had originally been conceived to control a witch’s need for her mate when he was off at war or on a long trek across the seas. It had never been intended for years upon years of use as I had done with it, so I did my best to supplement it with potions.
As I repeated the incantation, the magic enveloped me, just as a lover would. The fortunate and unfortunate part of the spell is that it would never dull how much I cared for Jack. I could still see him charging into the cabin that day, looking at me like I was his witch to protect. I could still see the way his pupils had grown so wide that they’d nearly drowned out the blue of his irises. Could still see the way his nostrils had flared when he’d scented the slick that pooled between my legs, making me ready for him, whether he wanted me or not.
The surrounding magic cooled my skin while igniting my insides. Invisible fingers slid through my hair, across my skin. I gasped as I felt the magic enter my pussy, soothing that ache inside. My body arched with the flood of magic within me. My hips moved as the magic I created grew nearly corporal, fucking me, coaxing me to orgasm. While the potion might keep my slick at bay, I was still soaked for the man whose knot I could never have.
As the magic pulsed within me, I imagined what it would be like to have Jack inside me instead. Imagined what it would be like to look up and see him hovering above me, his face and body slick with sweat.
My hands reached out, grasping the fabric of the bedspread beneath me, clenching it with my fingers.
“Jack,” I cried out as I bucked against the unseen invasion. My pussy throbbed and quaked. My nipples puckered, begging to be licked and sucked by my mate.
Finally, I came with a shout, chasing the release, angry with the need for him to be there to hold me after I came.
I fell back against the bed, the need sated for a little while longer. Hugging the pillow to me, I thought of Jack. The spell might protect my body against an impromptu heat, but it still didn’t calm the need to touch and be touched by him.
