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“I feel like I’m stoned,” I whispered.
“It’s our magic blending. Let it happen, let it take us into the woods, into the jungle.”
His voice reverberated, sending chills down my back as he gazed into my eyes. His intensity held me fast, and I found myself lost in the magic. The sound of a waterfall echoed to the west, warm breezes from a summer’s night drifted through from the east, the heat of a bonfire warmed my body, blazing in from the south. As we came together, no magnets could be stronger than the pull of our attraction.
Everything unfolded as though we were in a dream, and part of me thought we were. It was a dream so real and so vivid that it had to be rooted in the physical world.
He laid me back on the bed, stroking between my legs, and simultaneously, his spirit reached out, stroking my aura, fanning the flames. A surge of magic rocked through me with his touch, and I wrapped my arms around his back, our skin triggering explosions beneath my fingers. By his expression, explosions through his body.
Our sex was a powder keg, and the fuse had been ignited. There was no going back, no stopping now. He took my nipple in his mouth and tugged, running his tongue around it, and with every touch, I flared to life, remembering who I was before the fear—before the terror—before the Butcher.
I opened my legs to him, and he slid inside, gliding deep into my core, where he held me still for a moment before he began to thrust. At first his movements were gentle, but then he sped up, harder, deeper, driving himself up to the hilt as I welcomed him in, every movement pushing me further towards the edge, towards a sparkling precipice that beckoned me in.
I moaned, and he covered my mouth with his, his lips tight against mine, his muscled arms sliding around me as he rolled us over, pulling me astride him, where I rode him hard and deep. I reached up, cupping my breasts, kneading them as he watched, and he slid his hand between my legs and began to stroke me as I drove myself down on his cock.
The magic swirled around us as our passion grew, and I could see the glittering energy we were creating. It wove itself into the eternity symbol, the mobius strip that would never end.
My breath came in ragged pants as I dropped my head back, my hands reaching for his. He clasped them as I began to ride him as hard as I could, desperate for him to fill me up, to fill every inch of me, leaving no place untouched.
“Bran—Bran—” The words came out, half a scream, half a whisper, as I found myself on the edge, staring deep into the void, and before I could do anything, he gave one final thrust, knocking me over the side as I tumbled into climax, letting out a ragged cry as the waves of passion rippled through me.
Tears streamed down my face as the dam broke, tears for Rian, tears for Faron, tears for my cousin Owen, all the tears in the world jumbled together, bursting through my barricades. I came hard and fast, the orgasm vibrating through my body for what felt like a long, long time.
Bran came then, holding my hands tight, bracing me up as he bucked beneath me. And then, as the tide swept out, leaving the aftermath, I leaned forward, against his chest, and he held me, silently comforting me.
* * *
Bran had to go home, May needed him, so he headed out. I took a shower and wandered into the kitchen, where Grams was ladling out the stew. The rolls were in the oven, smelling all yeasty-warm, and so I set the butter on the table, along with silverware and bread-and-butter plates. She carried our bowls to the table and we settled in for dinner.
“So…” she said, smiling slyly.
“So…yes, Bran and I?—”
“You don’t need to tell me, but I must say, I’m glad you’re growing closer. Whatever it turns out to be, I think you and he are good for one another.”
I paused, not sure if I should be talking to my great-grandmother about sex, but the fact was Bree was a puma shifter, and she didn’t understand what it was like to be witchblood.
“Grams, can I ask you something personal?”
“You can always ask, I don’t promise to answer.”
“When I was with Rian, sex was good. It was better than good, and our magic played a part, but it only went so far. Today, with Bran, it was like I was stoned. The magic…I never felt anything quite like that. Did you ever…with Great-grandpa?” I blushed. It was one thing to discuss dicks and dongs with my friends. It was another to ask a much-older relative. Especially one who was so reserved.
But Grams took it in stride, and I had a feeling that, over in Scotland, they weren’t as reticent as the older generations were here.
She put down her spoon and reached for a roll. “Your great-grandfather and I…we weren’t in love at the start. We married when I was 22, in 1920, because it was good for the clan, and so we did our duty. But over the years, we fell in love, and we found that our magic was strong together.”
“I didn’t know you were in an arranged marriage.”
“A lot of marriages were still arranged back then. We may have known each other, instead of being strangers, but when great families come together, the offspring seldom have much say in these matters.”
“I see,” I said, grateful I was from my own generation.
“About ten years after we married, we went on a vacation. We lived in Blair Athol at the time, and we decided to travel to Glencoe for a week. It took us over four hours to drive the eighty-five miles there, because the roads weren’t the best. We owned an Austin Seven, one of the more economical cars at the time, and while it could manage a speed of fifty, on those roads we maintained a steady thirty miles an hour. But to us, we were speeding along. We stopped along the way to get out every half hour in order to stretch and walk around. You know, I would have loved to have a digital camera with me—there were so many beautiful spots to look at.”
The idea of my great-grandparents chugging along in a touring car, stopping to see the sights as they headed out on vacation, made me feel like I was peeking in on a different world.
“You didn’t have any children then, did you?”
