Page 26 of Highballs & Hexes

“Does that seem strange to you?” she asked when his frown darkened.

“Aye. We should be smelling something akin to burnt apple right about now.”

He returned and selected a fork, then repeated the process of throwing an object at the metal bars. Once again, the atmosphere around them sizzled and snapped. This time a shimmer of green ran the length of the room from floor to ceiling.

“What the fuck?” Fi cried. “Was it like this the first time?”

“None of the times,” he replied with a thoughtful scowl. “I’m going to touch the bars, and I’ll be obliged to you if you heal any burns.”

“Patrick, no!” She jumped up and grabbed his forearm as he stretched forward. “We haven’t tried using our magic yet.” Yeah, and it made no sense why they hadn’t. Were they under a magical suggestion not to? An idea struck her. “Let’s conjure items or try to teleport first. If either works, we can formulate a plan from there.”

With a single nod, he said, “Call up a pint. I could use the drink.”

She grinned and held up her hands, palms facing upward. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the glass forming, and warmth danced along her skin. The weight of the mug was heavy and grew heavier still when she imagined it filled with beer.

“Fuck me, it worked.” Patrick sounded bewildered, as if he’d expected it not to. He accepted the pint and promptly shouted his surprise when the glass shattered and the liquid soaked him.

“What the hell happened? Did you intentionally break it, then?” she asked with an edge to her tone. Her frustration was great.

“Do you think I want to be soaked to the bone and reeking of beer?” he growled back.

“You try to conjure one,” she demanded.

He did with the same result, ending up twice as wet as he’d started.

Fi shook her head, baffled by the entire situation. “How can we conjure something, but it goes bust the moment we do?”

“It’s a feckin' mystery, it is.” And he didn’t sound thrilled to solve it.

CHAPTER 12

For the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, Patrick and Fionola conjured items, only to have them explode the moment the object was completely formed. Their bodies were covered in food and drink, and it had become a game of sorts to coat the other in the messiest goo imaginable. By the time they were done, their cell looked like a war zone.

Patrick approached Fi, intent on removing the cherry pie filling from the tip of her nose, when the glob dripped onto her breast. In his mind, he envisioned her sans clothing with the rich ruby-red juice trickling along her creamy skin to a pert, dusty-rose nipple, and he’d never imagined such an alluring mess in his life.

“Do you think if we magically clean the room, the walls might explode and release us?” she teased, distracting him from his fantasy.

Thankfully!

“Aye. They’ll be picking up our body parts all the way across the channel.”

She laughed up at him, and he wanted to kiss her so badly his heart ached from the longing. When her gaze dropped tohis mouth, he had the stray hope that perhaps she felt their connection to the extent he did.

Swiping a finger along her cheek, he removed a glob of chocolate syrup, sniffed it, and then tasted it with a soft moan of appreciation. “It was a grand idea you had to conjure Belgian chocolate, love, but it’s a bloody shame to be wasting it.”

She stepped closer and repeated the gesture, grinning widely around her finger as the flavor profile struck her taste buds. Her sparkling eyes spoke to his soul, calling him to action. Bending his head, he waited a few heartbeats for her approval, and once he’d received it, he covered her mouth with his. The deliciousness of chocolate and cherries combined tempted him to delve deeper, and he swept his tongue along hers, groaning when the subtle notes of the food burst to life and satiated his senses.

Her hands traveled up his chest, explored the breadth of his shoulders, then made the journey along his neck. As her fingers dug into his hair, Patrick sighed his pleasure and went back for a second taste. His arms banded around her, and his palms itched to cup her breasts, but he gave her the lead. Whatever Fi wanted, he’d abide by. He only hoped it was a satisfying shag.

Meeting his hungry gaze, she took one of his hands in hers and placed it on her breast. “Touch me,” she urged.

“It would be my greatest pleasure, love.” Trailing his fingertips over the slope of her breast, he skimmed along the shape of her, then lifted the hem of her shirt for contact with her silky smooth skin.

She sucked in a breath as he ran his flat palm along her stomach and along her upper back to unclasp her bra. When she was free of constraint, Patrick cupped her bared breast and sighed his happiness as he brushed a thumb across her erect nipple.

“You’re beautifully built, Fionola. It’s like you were handcrafted just for me.”

She shivered and pressed into him, dropping her hands to his trouser fastening. Making short work of the button and zipper, she slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Patrick was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when she caressed the length of him and ran her thumb over the head of his penis, spreading the pre-cum over his hot flesh. He closed his eyes and gasped as she began a rhythmic stroking.

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