Page 25 of Carnal Magic
Chased through dark woods. Ravaged by the beast. Terrified of the monster—but loving every moment of it. I could wake up shimmering with sweat, my pussy still throbbing on a vicious climax.
Empty. Alone. But safe.
That would be enough for him. He didn’t demand anything more.
But that wasn’t enough forme.
I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, satisfied only by dreamy shadowy figures that were a figment of my imagination. I wanted more. I wanted to feel everything. Hot skin beneath my hands. Hard muscle. Teeth digging into me on a vicious bite. Not just one man but many hands, as they’d touched me in the first dream. Holding me. Hurting me—but exactly right. The way that made me gasp and squirm, knowing the climax would be worth it. Scaring me. But also loving me.
Were the dark god and his minions even capable of love?
I wanted to believe so. In the end, that was all that mattered. My will, my intention, would set the magic. If I wanted them to love me, even in violent gory detail, then that was what would happen.
I controlled the magic. The intensity. The pleasure-pain line.
While I might be his victim… Ultimately I decided how far he would go.
The power was mine.
If I desired it.
The full moon shone so brightly that I could see as well as during the day. Before I could talk myself out of doing something stupidly reckless, I put my keys, phone, and purse on the front step. I carefully took off the gorgeous designer shoes, my velvet gown, and witchy hat. I didn’t want to risk losing or damaging them.
I stood a moment in the night, letting the air whisper over my naked skin. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, turning me into liquid pearl. I twirled gently, feeling my hair glide around my shoulders. I should be cold in the chilly fall mountain air, but too much heat shimmered inside me.
Barefoot and naked except for my lingerie, I started the climb up the mountain. Martha’s words played through my head.
The mountain rejoices each time your bare foot touches its earth. Air sings with your every breath. Waters of life spring from the earth, heated with your fire. Every living thing on the mountain revels in your presence.
My tender feet didn’t hurt at all despite the rocky path. The brambles didn’t scratch my legs or catch at my hair, as if the branches bent aside to allow me to pass unscathed. In the meadow, a herd of deer lifted their heads, watching me as I climbed. They didn’t flee. My breath puffed in clouds around me, my heart pumping. I quickened my step, confident in the dark. Not afraid. Not winded. I knew exactly where to go. This time, the mountain would open for me. I had no doubt in my mind. The dark grotto would be revealed. How could it not? It was nearly midnight on Samhain on a full moon, and I was coming of my own free will.
I was making myself an offering to the dark god. A willing sacrifice.
It would open for me alone.
I scraped my palms clambering over the rocks. A small offering to the mountain. I wondered what Polly had been thinking and feeling as she made her climb to him. Had she been afraid, or exhilarated? Had her heart pounded as hard as mine? Had her nipples been rock hard and sensitive in the night air? I could smell my own arousal, a warm, lush musk of need. Urgency pulsed through me, until I threw myself up and over the next set of rocks. Soon. I would sink into the hot water into their embrace. They were all waiting for me.
Scrambling up over the last shelf of rock, I fell onto my knees. Braced on my hands and knees, I panted, drawing in the night air. I tipped my face up to the moon, soaking in that silvery light. If I didn’t come back…
I didn’t know for sure what would happen to me. Before I crossed into the dark god’s lair, I needed to do everything I could for Keneesha. Just in case I didn’t return.
With my eyes closed, I pictured her face. Her dreads sweeping about her shoulders, dotted with pretty crystals. The love in her eyes when she said my mother’s name. The strength in her arms when she’d held me against her. As we’d both cried with loss and grief. The gleam of pride in her eyes when she looked at her son and all he’d accomplished.
She deserved to live and see him do great things with his life. She deserved to hold her grandchildren and teach them about their ancestors and all the herbs and crystals that she’d spent her entire life studying.
Holding her image, I gathered up all the energy flowing around me and pushed it to her. Again, drawing up mountain energy through the soles of my feet. The dark pulse of desire that throbbed through my body. The moonlight shining down on my skin.
Keneesha is healthy, strong, and cancer free. She lives to a ripe old age, loving her son, her grandchildren, their children. She lives a life of peace and love and beauty.
I willed it to be so.
Power flowed through me, shining in a silvery amethyst arc to her. A gleaming bridge of connection and love and strength. I held it as long as I could, until I sagged down against the ground. My cheek against the rock. I rested a moment, soaking in the heat rising from the ground until I caught my breath.
I’d repeat the sending tomorrow. Every day if needed. Hopefully I would be able to tell in a day or two if I’d been able to heal her. Otherwise, I’d start the drive south. Assuming I survived. Assuming he allowed me to leave.
The ground rumbled beneath me, a low chastisement that I could feel in my bones. Of course I would survive. I would be able to leave as I chose. The power was mine. It had always been mine.
Tell me how hard to squeeze, my lady.
