Magical Moments Part 12

Dagon responded by slipping under the bed beside her and glancing over the situation. "The collar of your blouse is firmly twisted in one of the frame screws."

"Can you free me?" she asked anxiously. The scent of him was making her light-headed. And it wasn't his cologne that a.s.saulted her senses, it was him. His very own male scent, that primal odor that is natural to men and women and connect them together faster than any expensive cologne.

Dagon thought that perhaps his powers might work. After all, she simply got herself into a mortal dilemma without the help of magic; therefore, his magic should work. He learned fast enough it didn't. Once again he would need to resort to mortal ways.

"It will take a moment to work the material free," he explained, keeping his patience.

She sighed, her own patience on edge. "I don't know if I can hold myself up much longer."

He glanced to her hand and saw how it trembled with the force of her own weight. She was still recovering from her previous incident and did not possess the strength in her arms to hold her for any length of time. He therefore did the only thing possible. He turned on his back and replaced her quivering hand with his hard chest. They now rested chest to chest, her face being only one or two inches from hers.

"Better?" he asked with a playful smile.

Better was not a word she would use to describe her present situation, but she managed a nod.

"Relax, I'll have you free in no time," he said and reached his hands around to the back of her neck.

She didn't want to focus on him, she thought to close her eyes and yet they seemed to possess a mind of their own. They remained fixed on his face, studying every line and mark, and she soon became engrossed in seeing his true character. She looked past his handsome features and what she saw amazed her.

There was a bare hint of a scar just below the corner of his right eye, and she clearly saw him and a young girl play fighting with wooden swords, and she watched the corner of the sword swipe him beneath the eye. She then watched him console the distraught girl as the blood dripped from the wound. He gave freely of his love and support to her, disregarding his own well-being for the sake of hers.

She wished she could reach out and touch the thin barely visible lines that fanned out from his eyes. They told her of his concern and regard for other people. He would think long and hard on decisions and would reach the wisest ones for all concerned. He was a man who cared deeply and would love just as deeply.

His stark blue eyes always sensual and l.u.s.ty now betrayed his true strength of character and depth of emotions. He was a man who would give all or nothing and do it most willingly.

And his lips? She smiled, noting the stubbornness, pride, and determination combined with gentleness, caring, and a softness to him that could not be denied, and that was when her breath caught.

She felt the stirring deep down in her soul and attempted to convince herself it wasn't there, it was her imagination. She wasn't feeling this; it wasn't possible.

Possibilities.

They existed and her soul just introduced her to a new one. One she had never felt though heard so much about and one that frightened her more than losing her powers. This possibility could prove disastrous or a miracle. Which would it be? She would never know if she didn't pursue the issue. If she didn't take a chance.

"You want me." His statement was simple and yet so startling to her that her eyes rounded in surprise and she answered without thought.

"Yes."

She didn't realize she was free, didn't realize she rested firmly on his chest or that his arms wrapped around her, his one hand resting against the back of her neck.

"What exactly do you want from me, Sarina?" His question stunned him as much as her. Usually when he met a willing woman, he obliged her, but for some reason he wanted to hear her intentions. Why? He didn't know, didn't understand, only knew he wanted, needed to hear for himself.

"I-I'm not sure," she said with a soft shake of her head, wondering why suddenly nothing made sense. "I'm just not sure."

He felt the nervous tremble of her body ripple over and through him, and at that second he cared about nothing but the moment and her there in his arms.

"Then let's find out," he suggested and brought her head down to meet his waiting lips. His taste of her was tentative at first, as if savoring the introduction, and when their lips grew acquainted, their taste turned friendly, eager until their acknowledgment turned to wisdom and they knew what each wanted from the other.

Their kiss took on a hunger that seemed long denied. They feasted on each other, one attempting to give more than the other until their shared pa.s.sions merged and then it was as if they were one and time stood still and there was only the two of them forever joined together.

His hands moved down along her waist to her backside, and while he squeezed her firm bottom, he pulled her body over to rest fully on top of him. Their kiss then took on an urgency that heated both their bodies beyond reasoning.

He pressed her to him, and she felt the strength of him and she groaned, her own body growing wet with the need of him.

His hand raced to the back of her head, and he grasped her hair, pulling her away from him. "What do you want from me?" "I-I-I-" She shook her head, words eluding her, reason escaping her, her own senses betraying her. He groaned with frustration, slipped her off him, moved out from beneath the bed, and pulled her out after him. He grabbed her about the waist, lifted her, and then dropped her down on the bed, following down on top of her. Lady Lily sent them both a glance of annoyance for disturbing her sleep on the mound of pillows at the head of the bed and then closed her eyes once again.

Sarina had no time to think or respond, he captured her mouth in a mind-blurring kiss that left her totally incapacitated and entirely vulnerable.

"Talk to me, Sarina," he urged between pa.s.sion-packed kisses. "Tell me what you want from me." Somewhere in her muddled brain a voice cautioned her to remain silent. She could say nothing. She had to believe in herself and possibilities. She was taking a chance, trusting and learning about love.

She moved her lips off his, though reluctantly and not before stealing brief pecks to a.s.suage her tumultuous emotions. She placed a finger to his lips, preventing any protests or further attempts at distracting her. "I'm not sure what I want from you, Dagon, and until I know, it wouldn't be fair to allow our emotions to rule."

He attempted to speak and she shook her head. "Let it be, Dagon, please let it be."

She thought he would argue, but he nodded gently.

She slipped off him, her hand brus.h.i.+ng over his body as if in farewell.

He sprang up, grabbing her wrist. "We will finish this, Sarina."

Her smile was sad. "Oh, yes, Dagon, that we will."

She left with Lady Lily tucked in her arm, and without a backward glance she shut the door behind her.

Dagon groaned and flung himself back on the bed. He was d.a.m.n hard and d.a.m.n annoyed. How did one

b.u.mbling witch gain so much control of his senses? He couldn't think straight around her. He couldn't

function properly, and he couldn't control his desire for her.

There had been plenty of times he felt l.u.s.ty in his long life, and when he had he saw to it that his l.u.s.t was satisfied. But this was more than mere l.u.s.t, and the trouble was he didn't know what he meant by more.

He barely knew Sarina, and yet he had held her in his arms naked, he had kissed her, touched her and d.a.m.n well cared for her.

He sprang up off the bed, raking his fingers through his long hair. "This certainly isn't love."

He paced the floor at the foot of the bed. Why had he even voiced that thought? He had always hoped to fall in love one day especially with one of his kind. And though Sarina was a witch, she wasn't the type of witch he would consider marriage to.

Would he?

He shook his head. He would forever be taking care of her. She would never be able to do for herself. She would always need looking after in one way or another. She would forever be getting herself into trouble and he getting her out of it.

"Life certainly wouldn't be boring."

Why ever was he voicing such stupid thoughts?

He groaned and threw his hands up into the air. "No, it wouldn't be boring, it would forever be chaotic."

He wondered if that would be so bad. Since meeting Sarina life had been . . .

"Different," he said with a laugh. He had to rely more on his senses than his powers, and that was a challenge and he did so love challenges. She had brought a spark of excitement to his life and filled his days with never-ending wonder.

She was truly a remarkable woman. Though she lacked the skills of her heritage, she strived to learn and improve no matter the consequences, and there had been many. She didn't give up in the face of adversity. She possessed more strength and courage than he had first thought, and he had to admire her tenacity.

He dropped into the chair by the window and stretched his long legs out in front of him. While Sarina possessed qualities he admired, she also lacked talent he felt essential in a mate.

He sighed at his own observations. He intended to mate with a witch equal or more powerful than he but never one lacking in basic skills. It would prove to be too much of a detriment to their union. He came from a long line of powerful witches, and he wanted that bloodline to continue unblemished.

Mortal society was not accepting of witches. Mortals knew little of the heritage and thought even less of it, and while mortals could possibly one day find themselves extinct, witches would not. And he would make certain his bloodline remained strong.

So what did he do about this crazy, uncontrollable desire for her?

"Nothing," he told himself honestly.

She would decide, the choice was hers, and then she would let him know if she could accept a night of love with him.

Eleven.

Sarina finished her ch.o.r.es early, and being she had the remainder of the day to herself, she decided on being herself. She returned to her room after the noon meal and placed Lady Lily on the bed for a nap. She then stripped off her working attire, black skirt, and white blouse along with her undergarments. From the bottom drawer of her dresser she took a long black knit dress and dropped it over her head, slipping her arms into the long sleeves and smoothing the knit material down over her naked body.

The soft material did not cling or hug her tightly; instead it barely kissed her skin, flowing over mounds and curves as if in respect, and the cowl neckline fell in easy folds around her neck. She brushed her hair until it s.h.i.+ned, slipped black suede boots on her feet and swung a black velvet cloak with attached hood over her shoulders.

Feeling more herself, she pulled the cloak over her head, walked out of her room, leaving Lady Lily to nap, and so as not to be seen she made her way quietly out of the castle. She took a stone path toward the grove of trees that ran along the north end of the castle and with eager steps made her way to a place she would feel welcomed.

Once amongst the trees and surrounded by the mighty strength of their age and wisdom she removed her cloak and shoes and planted her bare feet firmly on the ground. The dry leaves crackled beneath the soles of her feet, and the dampness of the cool earth tickled her flesh, and in seconds the earth's energy reached up to greet her. Pure and radiant the pulsating energy raced through her, filling her with its enormous powers and renewing her strength and beliefs in the cycle of continuity.

She missed the forest and all it offered her. Her journey had kept her busy, and she had failed to respect and honor her ways lately. That would not do and she could no longer neglect her heritage. She had always been proud of her unique ancestry and always paid homage to it as she had been taught and as she would teach her children to do.

She raised her hands to the Mother Sky, cast a prayer of appreciation for all her blessings, and then slowly sank down to sit with folded legs on the ground. She closed her eyes, listened to the enchanting sounds of the woods, and relished the beauty and peace of this moment.

Dagon hung the phone up feeling overjoyed. Sydney had done it. He would have an introduction to the Ancient One. A time and place was yet to be agreed upon, but that was a minor matter. She had agreed to meet with him, and that was what concerned him the most. The rest was incidental. All he needed was the introduction; he could handle the rest on his own. He had no doubt he could charm the woman. Of course he would brush up on the history that predated his birth in case there was a time or particular period she favored or wished to discuss.

If tales and legends proved to be true, she was born with the dawn of time and therefore possessed a knowledge that far surpa.s.sed his. And of course there were her tremendous abilities. While his powers were above average, they certainly could not match hers, and he would not even attempt to impress her with menial energy.

No, he would rely on his charm and grace to win her affection and sound reasoning in suggesting she accept him as a lifemate. She had yet to mate and bear children, and all witches wished for their lines to continue, prosper, and achieve. This he could give her.

He had heard tell of a tale of a lost love. A love so strong that she refused to ever love again, and though he asked Sydney and others for more information, none had been able to relate to him the truth of the tale. Many believed it true, others thought it a legend, and a few refused to speak of it at all.

Sydney warned him that the Ancient One was not easy to deal with and that he should think wisely before proceeding with his plans. She cautioned him to look with open eyes and an open heart as he may just find what he searched for right in front of him.

He was aware that she was attempting to help him, perhaps save him from disappointment or even embarra.s.sment. But he was determined to make a wise choice when choosing his lifemate. He did not wish to make a hasty choice or rush to mate and then regret a foolish decision.

He hoped to be attracted to her, though features mattered less to him than her knowledge and skills. And surely she would see the wisdom of his own actions and fully appreciate his reason for meeting with her. He would take his time with her, come to know her, and gently pursue her.

He shook his head, catching a flash of darkness pa.s.s by his study window, and he stood, hurrying to the window to see who was about on this cloudy afternoon. He caught only the back of the woman. She was dressed in all black, a black hood making it impossible to see her ident.i.ty.

What startled and annoyed him was that a rare few witches wore black. Only those schooled in the ancient arts of the craft were allowed to wear the sacred color. The misunderstanding concerning the color had started many years ago, and while there was a basis in fact for the belief it signified evil, there were even more facts signifying its true meaning.

In darkness there is born light, and so black represented the dawning of light and the wisdom it brought to the world. Those witches who wore black possessed knowledge as old as time itself. They were the wise ones who had lived through centuries of ignorance and had not only managed to survive but managed to gain wisdom and bring light to the lesser beings. They were respected, admired, and revered.

And one presently walked his land.

She was certainly welcome here, but who was she? Could it be the Ancient One satisfying her curiosity? No, she would not be so careless as to let him see her. She cherished her anonymity and would keep herself from being seen.

Then who was his visitor?

He didn't know but he intended to find out.

Foolish.

The word felt like a kick to her backside and she certainly deserved it. She was plain foolish for walking past his study. She was in a hurry to return to the castle and therefore had taken a shorter route back, yet a more dangerous one of discovery.

She rushed up the two flights of steps to her room and hurried out of her garments, then quickly folded them away. She then slipped on a long cotton lavender dress, folding the long sleeves into a double cuff and slipping on a pair of thick white cotton socks. Her hair she tied back with a white ribbon missing several strands that feel freely around her face. She then scooped up a yawning Lady Lily and rushed back out of her room and down the stairs and out the back door of the service entrance. She wanted all to believe that she had spent the afternoon abed relaxing and was just now taking Lady Lily out for a breath of fresh air.

A mistake since Lady Lily took off as soon as her tiny pink paws. .h.i.t the chilled ground.

"Lily!" she yelled and took off after her.

Dagon turned the corner of the castle just as Sarina had shouted and watched her chase after the little kitten. He had never seen her dressed in anything but her servant attire and he was fascinated with the long shapeless dress she wore, especially since the straight lines alerted him to the fact that she wore not a st.i.tch of clothing beneath it.

With a wicked smile he took off after her.

Sarina caught up with Lily in the stables. She laughed as she chased the tiny ball of fur around and finally caught her, plopping down in an empty stall on a thick mound of hay. Lily wiggled free of her grasp and snuggled on her chest as if announcing she had enough exercise for one day and it was now time to rest.

Sarina gave her no argument and patted the yawning kitten. She yawned herself, her time of solace and her recent hasty actions bringing her a combined sense of peace and tiredness.

"You're a lazy one," Sarina said to the kitten, whose attention was perked up by a noise. She looked about, saw nothing that interested her, and proceeded to stretch herself across Sarina's chest.

Dagon watched from a short distance away. They were a pair, the two. Completely unpredictable and totally lovable. Sarina looked surprisingly appealing in lavender, or maybe it was the fact that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were free of any constrictions and no panty lines marred the cotton dress, and then there were those white socks.

The thick cotton hugged her ankles and he could think of nothing more than her completely naked, except for the socks. d.a.m.n but the fantasy caused his body to erupt into a l.u.s.ty chaos which his loins responded to instantaneously. And gave him a good sound reason for stepping out of the shadows.