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“You can leave now. This is my house, and she’s my blood-born kin, who I’ll tend to and ensure she recovers from what you’ve done to her. And, Rowan? I am her family, and I will be the one to give her an introduction to both magick and witchcraft. So mote it be, as their magick is always stronger when taught by one related through the bloodline.”
Lips brushed my forehead before Rowan slowly laid me down on the bed. “Meet me in Neverland, Moira Darling. I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiled at me before tucking the wild strands which had fallen into my face as he’d moved me.
Chapter Eight
Moira
Amoanburstfrommy lips as consciousness slowly returned. My entire body felt beaten, bruised and wrong. Forcing my eyelids to part took effort, which resulted in a loud whimper of muffled, raspy complaint. The sound of rocking told me that Grams was in the room, but she hadn’t brought her rocking chair into my room since I’d gotten drunk at a kegger, which had resulted in my being hungover for a week. Grams hadn’t left my room other than to make broth, shower, and turn away my friends who checked in on me. I’d regretted drinking that night, but she’d nursed me back to health. Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to even out my breathing to feign still being asleep.
“Pretending to be asleep won’t make me go away, Moira Darling,” she chided.
“Why does it feel like someone beat the shit out of me? I don’t remember drinking last night,” I managed to get out despite the burn in my throat. It felt as if I’d swallowed a razorblade and then chased it with lemon juice and sulfur. “My throat hurts. Did I end up sick?”
When I tried to piece together my night, none of the memories made any sense.
“It would appear you’ve been fornicating with a demon. Yesterday, you had to deal with the repercussions of your tryst with him.” Her matter-of-fact tone had one of my eyes opening just so I could make sure she hadn’t grown another head or been replaced by a pod person. She looked exactly the same as she had when I’d shown up last night, minus the curlers.
“Ifornicatedwith a demon?” The amusement I’d aimed for hadn’t been revealed in the tone issued from beneath my dry, cracked lips. “I’m going back to sleep.” This shit wasn’t happening. It couldn’t, because demons didn’t exist!
“No, you’re not. You’re going to go shower, and then you and I are heading into town. Today begins your introduction to witchcraft and magick. What Rowan Teivel did yesterday? It broke the laws of magick. The powers that be will be hearing about it soon enough, but I refuse to let him be your guide through your awakening.” The chair scraped over the wood floor as she rose from it, then yanked the blanket from where I’d pulled it up to my neck. “Up with you, Moira. Magick waits for no one.”
I couldn’t have heard her correctly. Right? The only proper explanation was . . . I’d died. That was it, which sucked. But, considering everything I could recall of last night, well, it was insanity. I’d dreamt of having the wildest sex of my life, then woke up to him controlling me. After that, I’d been his plaything, who’d hung on his every word. That was before I’d thrown up whatever he’d planted inside me from the wildest sex, ever. So, in conclusion, I’d died on the highway and entered some weird sort of reality. Maybe it was the in between? The world where you were forced to linger before heaven opened the pearly-white gates?
“I think there’s something wrong with my hearing, Grams. It sounds like you’re saying magick, witchcraft and demons? So, either I died on my way home and this was aBeetlejuicesituation, or you’ve lost your marbles because the cancer is making you hallucinate. Neither one of them sounds ideal, which means I’m protesting moving from this bed. In the iconic words of Green Day,Wake Me Up When September Ends.”
“It’s June, darling.”
“Exactly,” I muttered while trying to come up with other explanations for this lunacy. Maybe Ashton Kutcher was about to jump out of the closet and tell me I’d been Punk’d. Afterward, we’d join Mila downstairs to watchThat ‘70s Showreruns, and throw popcorn at the television set. Because what in the hell was even happening right now? This wasn’t real life. It just couldn’t be, right?
“Our last name’s Bishop, and they’ve accused every single one of our descendants of witchcraft. You didn’t think that was odd?”
“Of course, I did, but you told me witches weren’t real, remember? You called me silly and then sent me outside to play with the other kids. What was it you said every time I so much as mentioned a connection to any of the women in our bloodline being witches? Oh, yes. I remember. ‘The jealousy of women who either falsified or unjustly accused other women of witchcraft was the building stones on which they built witch trials. Men, however, merely enjoyed lighting a bitch on fire after she’d roasted him on the size of his lackluster wiener.’”
“It wasn’t entirely a lie, though,” she said defensively. Pushing up from the bed, I winced with the subtle movement, and then my stomach rumbled, which resulted in a soft bubble of a burp exiting my lips. The acerbic stench of sulfur hit me, making my eyes burn and Grams to lean away from me a bit. “Oh, that’s disgusting.” Waving her hand in the air in front of her, she made a sour face. “Well, it all comes from frolicking with demons. Isn’t that what Rowan said?”
Images of the meadow we’d “frolicked” in slipped through my mind with vivid clarity. It had been a nightmare, right? Then why could I physically feel his touch on my flesh and remember how exhilarating it had been? I’d never felt more alive than I had with him touching me, fueling my arousal until I’d shattered into a thousand tiny, broken shards of glass, which he’d then carefully reconstructed into something else.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled through quivering lips. “Neverland.”
“This isn’t a fantasy, and he isn’t Peter Pan. He’sLegion, the commander of legions of demons who dwell within his soul. Each one is a part of him, and there’s no separating them. He’s after something that could change the world if he were to ever get his vile, wicked hands on it. I understand he’s rakishly handsome and hard to resist, but you must resist him all the same.”
“No, you’re right. He’s definitely no Peter Pan,” I agreed. He’d be more apt at playing a villain, and just the idea of him being wicked had my pussy slick and needy. The bastard had driven his cock into my pussy with immoral, unrestrained carnal ardor.
I hadn’t even known my concupiscence could reach those heights until he sent me careening into the stars above our own, salacious version of Neverland. Or, I assumed, it was Neverland since he’d told me to meet him there? And, yes, I’d technically been the one to force his magnificently strange cock deeper into my body, but damn, had he come unhinged once it sunk in all the way. In fact, I had phantom pains just thinking about how much he’d stretched, and owned every inch of my insides until I’d gone mad from it.
It was just about an hour later when I walked downstairs and spotted my rental car sitting in the driveway. Scratching the back of my neck in confusion because I hadn’t called a tow truck to pull it from the ditch, I started outside.
The gravel crunched beneath my sandals as I strolled toward it and took in the new windows, pristine interior, and unblemished front bumper. The shock was so potent that I almost missed the envelope propped on the steering wheel. There wasn’t anything written on it, so I assumed it was for me and ripped it open.
There was a single sheet of thick stationary tucked inside it.
I figured you’d be dealing with enough this morning and didn’t need to fret over your rental car or belongings. The repairs have been paid for, and your belongings are in the trunk and remain untouched. I hope to see you in Neverland, as I’m certain you’ve many questions you need answered. Your grandmother will tell you I’m a monster, Moira Darling, and you should believe her because I am. I’ve never apologized for being a monster, and I never intend to do so. If you’d like the answers to any of the other questions swirling inside your pretty head, then meet me in the meadow. I won’t promise to be on my best behavior, since my best behavior would likely still be sinfully immoral in your pretty, emerald eyes. Don’t keep me waiting too long, darling.
Signed by the man whose name you’ll be screaming later,
Rowan Teivel
His complimentary close had a blush creeping over my cheeks and down my neck, and if I closed my eyes, I could still see him between my thighs, licking through my drenched pussy. With all the men before Rowan, I’d never felt the intensity or the satyriasis he’d radiated in his need to devour me. It was almost terrifying how easily he’d turned me into an addict for his depravity.
