Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (9 page)

I parted his lips with my tongue and stroked between his teeth, exploring his mouth while my palms eased down the skin of his back. With one hand, he reached between us and unbuttoned my coat. He pushed it off my shoulders, never losing the rhythm of our kiss, and tossed it toward the rack near the door. I heard it crumple to the floor. Neither one of us paused to pick it up.

My long-sleeved T-shirt was next. This time, he did pull back from our kiss to lift it over my head, but instead of removing it, he stopped at my hands, whirled me around, and wound my sleeves to bind my wrists together.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Give yourself to me,” he whispered in my ear. His palm coursed over my abs to cup my lace-covered breast. With the position of my hands behind my back, I could feel his erection twitch against my palm through the cloth of his pants.

I understood what he wanted. This wasn’t as much about binding me as it was about me showing I trusted him explicitly. Control was important to me. Giving it up would not be easy.

“Yes,” I said.

He spun me back around to face him. One side of his mouth lifted into a devilish smirk, and my skin tingled in anticipation. His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs caressing my lips lightly. And then his mouth replaced his touch. The white-hot kiss made my head spin while he flicked his thumbs over the thin lace covering my raised nipples. A current of desire coursed through me. I arched my back to press my breasts into his hands, but he pulled away in response.

His low, heady laugh caught me off guard. “Oh no. I’m driving this time,
mi cielo
.”

At first my instinct was to demand he step on the gas, but I forced myself to let him lead, go at his pace. I was rewarded with the return of his touch. His hands skimmed down my body, unbuttoned my jeans, and in one pass pulled them and my lace boy shorts to my knees. Kneeling before me, I groaned as his lips explored the space between my hipbones. He gripped my ass and squeezed, almost to the point of pain, but not quite. With my pants around my calves and my wrists bound, there wasn’t much I could do but moan my approval.

My breath came in pants as his mouth neared the apex of my thighs. The wet ache there was raw; I thought a single touch might put me over the edge. I was right. His tongue darted out, licking my slit. I shattered.

For a moment I was lost to the intense pleasure. When I came down from the aftershocks, Rick was holding me up. I leaned into his shoulder while he worked to remove my boots and pants. “Safety first,” he said, grinning.

In one easy motion, he stood and tossed me over his shoulder, holding me firmly by the back of my thighs. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.

His hand slapped my ass, hard. I moaned. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the keen, sharp sensation brought the blood rushing to where his hand had been. The pulse of desire started anew. He hummed with satisfaction as the resurgence of my sexual appetite rushed down our connection. His hand slapped my cheeks again sharply, then rubbed the space between them, blissfully exposed by my position across his shoulder. I squirmed, my breasts grazing the muscles of his back.

All at once I was tossed in the air, and manipulated face down and bottom up on the bed. I turned my head to the side and arched, ready and waiting for whatever he had in mind. I didn’t have to wait long. He entered me in one slick thrust, supporting my waist with his solid forearm.

He moaned, his need throbbing between us. One palm settled in the arch of my spine, stroked down, and rounded over my hip. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. “You are … exquisite.” His breath rattled a little with emotion.

I turned my head, met his hooded eyes over my shoulder, and licked my lips. “I’m yours remember. Drive.”

Hitching my hips up with his hands, he went to work. He pounded into me faster and harder, until I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught and bit my lip. We came together in a ripple of light.

When he finally pulled away, I rolled my wrist out of its binding and tossed the T-shirt aside. Flipping over, I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck so we were face to face. “My turn.”

“Park on the side of the road,” I said. Tabetha’s home was in rural Salem, off a rarely traveled dirt road inside a stretch of densely forested land. I could see the driveway to her residence up ahead, complete with an ordinary mailbox. The house number reflected in my Jeep’s headlights. I guess even ancient and powerful witches needed a way to get their electric bills.

“Seems an odd choice to hold a love potion,” Rick said, glancing at the
Duck
Dynasty
thermos in my hands.

I leaned my head against the headrest. “I know,” I groaned. “It was the only one they had left at Red Grove Grocery and Pub.”

“I doubt the container will make a difference one way or another.” Rick frowned.

“I’m going to leave it in the car until she accepts our offer. Something tells me we should travel light.”

“Agreed.”

I shoved the thermos in the glove compartment.

We’d arrived almost an hour early. Twilight. I’d have plenty of time to check out Tabetha’s domain before we were expected. I wanted to know exactly what I was getting into. We climbed from the Jeep.

“Poe,” I said, “I need you to survey the property from the air. Try to stay out of sight, and only get involved if it’s a life-or-death situation, understand?”

The raven bobbed his dark head.

“We’ll meet back here when it’s over.” With a flutter of wings, Poe lifted from my shoulder and passed over the ten-foot privet surrounding the property.

Rick and I walked the length of the wall to the drive, where a monstrous iron gate barred our path. A scrollwork T graced the left side and a V, the right. “What does the V stand for?” I asked. I don’t know why, but the idea that Tabetha had a last name seemed funny to me. I just assumed she only had one name, like Madonna or Eminem.

“Van Buren,” Rick said. “She chose it for herself, of course. There are practicalities.”

Electric bill
, I thought. I pushed on the gate. Locked.

Rick tapped my shoulder and pointed up. “If I remember correctly, there’s a switch inside the gate. It’s automated, but there is a manual override.”

“If I can’t see it, I don’t think I can bamboozle it,” I said.

He bowed slightly. “Then may I suggest the old reliable method? It would be my pleasure to give you a ride.” He started stripping out of his clothes. “Hold these.”

When he lifted his shirt over his head, a zap of electricity traveled straight from my core to the surface of my skin. I swallowed as his muscles rippled in the indirect light of the setting sun. He reached for the fly of his pants and my heart did a jumping jack. Heat bloomed deep within me. I raised one eyebrow as my gaze settled on his ample endowment.

He laughed. “Work to do,” he said with a sigh. My desire for him was burning up our connection, feeding his desire for me. That much was evident in the reaction of his body. I looked away and tried to think of unappealing things, like witches who wanted my caretaker. I turned back around at the sound of breaking bones and the rumple of leather on leather, his wings unfurling. A moment later, I was on his back and Rick was over the gate.

“Sweet ride,” I said as I jumped from his back. My smile reflected in one of his large black eyes. He shifted quickly, landing a toothy kiss on my lips before lifting the pile of clothes from my hands.

While he was dressing, I took a good look at the place. A long driveway lined with fruit trees stretched a good mile or more toward the residence. I couldn’t see the place clearly due to the trees and the mist that hung in the twilight, but the glimpses up the drive and above the foliage gave a definite impression. Tabetha’s house was a Victorian English-style mansion, almost collegiate, all long stone steps and brick walls, with rows and rows of windows and multiple chimneys poking out of her many-gabled roof.

I stepped forward, stones crunching under my boots. “Is this pink granite?”

Rick shrugged. He joined me, fully dressed.

“I thought only Martha Stewart had a pink granite drive. Do you know how much this driveway costs?”

“Tabetha is very wealthy.”

“Good investments?” I asked. It was how Rick made his wealth. When you lived forever, interest, growth, and dividends took on a whole new meaning.

“Yes, and consulting. As a wood witch, she has a knack for botanicals. She formulated the popular Zen line of cosmetics.”

“Really?” I used Zen shampoo and conditioner. It was a miracle in a bottle.
Fuck.
I hoped this worked out. I did not want to have to find a new shampoo out of spite.

He nodded and started walking toward the house. I followed but stopped short when a pair of reflective eyes flashed at us from behind one of the tree trunks. I grabbed Rick’s arm. “Look.” I pointed needlessly. Rick was already facing that direction. “I think it’s a deer.” An albino deer. The animal was ghost white with red eyes under its long lashes that locked onto me. A few steps closer and the doe raised her head, turned, and darted away.

“The animals are eating the fallen fruit,” Rick said, pointing at the grass around the trunk where the deer had been. The trees were laden with bulbous red fruit that reminded me of pomegranates but were darker in color. Near my toes, the fallen specimen left half-eaten by the deer had deep purple flesh with green seeds. The texture reminded me of kiwi but different, definitely an exotic variety, if related at all.

“There’s no snow here,” I said, absentmindedly reaching for one of the fruits.

Rick slapped my hand away. “She’s a wood witch, Grateful. Do not touch the trees. They are surely enchanted.”

I snapped out of it and continued walking up the driveway, looking in the direction the deer ran. I found the doe, waiting in the forested yard a few meters away, watching us watch her. “There’s a bunch of them,” I said, noticing her friends. “All albino. I’ve never heard of that before. Isn’t it a recessive gene?”

He shrugged. “There are smaller animals, too. Likely attracted to the warmth as well as the bounty,” Rick muttered. He wrapped an arm around my waist and ushered me toward the house.

I could tell he was nervous, and I couldn’t blame him. The fog swirling between the legs of the animals was creepy for sure, as was the silence and the ever-darkening skies.

“It’s because of the warmth,” I said abruptly. I shook my head when he looked at me in confusion. “The fog. When the cold air touches the warm plants, it causes the fog. The plants are warm from her magic, not the air.”

“Oh,” he said, uninspired by my revelation.

Fine. But I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out. A few minutes later we reached the end of the drive and the base of the stairs. If possible, the place seemed even larger close up. Green and purple ivy climbed up the corners, branching like veins across the front of the place. If I were to describe it in two words, I’d say “looming” and “alive.”

“I wonder why a wood witch lives in a brick house,” I said.

Rick grinned. “A wood house is made of dead plants, but a brick house is made of baked clay. This house is like a giant terracotta pot.”

“Ah, I see. Hey, I just thought of something. Where’s her cemetery?”

“The backyard. It is small compared to Monk’s Hill but significantly older. A Native American burial ground.”

I turned to him in confusion. “She knocked you on your ass with a flick of her wrist and her cemetery is smaller than ours? How is she so strong with a tiny burial ground?”

“A Hecate draws her power from her dead, but a witch as old as Tabetha has had hundreds of years to find ways to amplify that power.”

“Like a familiar?”

“Similar, yes. Although a familiar is one thing Tabetha does not have.”

“What about the scarab beetle? It was imprinted on the candle and she wears a brooch.”

“A symbol of power, yes. A talisman, maybe. But not living, not a familiar like Poe. Honestly, I’m not sure how she does it, only that she is considered the most powerful witch living in our time.”

“Fabulous,” I said sarcastically.

The front entrance was directly ahead of me, but I wasn’t done snooping. I climbed the steps but shuffled right and tried to look in the window. Hand shielding my eyes from the glare, I pressed my face to the glass. “Oww!”

I saw a flash of green and then my entire body pitched into the air. I flipped over in time to face a giant sunflower as it repositioned me in its sticky green petals. When my shoulder touched the oozy center, my black wool coat smoldered, the stench of burning wool filling my nostrils.
Fuck!

“Rick!” I yelled. The thing’s petals folded in on me. “This thing is using me as Miracle-Gro!”

Rick cried out. He was fighting his own battle.

I yelled for Poe but didn’t sense his presence. He must have been too far away to hear me. I’d have to get myself out of this one.

With effort worthy of a master Pilates class, I kept my face out of the acidic sap and reached for Nightshade. I barely had enough room to slide her off my back, but a yogi-contortion later, and I yanked her free. I hacked at the petal teeth of the plant, and then tried to use my blade to pry the jaws open. Nothing worked. Nightshade bounced off the bright green flower as if it were made of steel, and no amount of prying budged its bite. More than one way to kill a plant. I flipped the blade around and sank it under my arm, into the acidic goo under me. The thing emitted a screech like a dying animal.

I twisted the blade, grunting with the effort. Success! The flower spit me out on the stone steps … at the feet of Tabetha Van Buren.

“Grateful Knight, I would request that you please do not damage my landscaping. Have you no manners?” Tabetha looked down her nose at me.

Speechless, I pointed at the sister-plant of the one that tried to eat me. Rick’s leg dangled from between the petals and its sunflower-like head was waving to and fro as he battled it from within. A wave of Tabetha’s wand later, and he was spit out right next to me, covered in steaming sap.

“If you are done playing, would you like to come in?” Tabetha swung a hand toward the open door.