9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (28 page)

King Darak would see to Helayne’s destruction, just as
John Connor had sent Elsbeth Winslow’s spirit into oblivion with very little
prompting from her.

Black Drayke would gladly do the deed. The warlock thrived
on stealing a witch’s soul.

And
very soon, Prince Talon and Prince Stry would no longer matter. A smile curved
her lips. She was just getting started. Ru-Noc belonged to her now. Soon, she
would choose her own king—her own mate, and it would not be that tiresome Darak
or Black Drayke.

As
a lover, the king was adequate, but she wanted a young, handsome, virile
waken
for her mate. Someone like Prince Stry, Prince Talon, or even that deliciously
handsome cousin of theirs, Sage would be perfect. Maybe she’d mate with all
three of them.

She
moved quickly down the corridors of the palace. First thing Monday morning, she’d
pay a visit to Saylym Winslow and determine if she was a threat.

Then,
she was going to search for a proper mate, one of her choosing.

Her
motto from now on, ‘Long live, Queen MeLora.’

Chapter Sixteen

Burroughs was examined by
Hathorne, Corwin, Sewall, and William Stoughton. One of the afflicted girls,
Sarah Churchill, was also examined.

~ Salem Witch Trials

May 9, 1692

Page Entry…

Queen Shy-Ryn tried to love
MeLora, but the child strongly resembled Kran, making it difficult for the queen’s
heart to melt and accept her daughter. Unfortunately, MeLora also had the same
cunning and petty nature as both Kran and her grandfather, Zoman.

When MeLora reached the age of
thirteen, Queen Shy-Ryn, no longer willing to look upon the face of her
daughter or watch MeLora’s cruelty toward the other children of Sanctuary,
summoned her before the throne. As punishment for MeLora’s wicked ways, the queen
declared her unfit to one day inherit the crown and cast MeLora from Sanctuary
and from the Ru-Noc realm. Queen Shy-Ryn sent her daughter to live with Elsbeth
and John in the mortal realm.

In MeLora’s place, the queen
chose one of Elsbeth’s daughters as heir to the throne.

She did not realize MeLora had
spun a listening spell in the witches’ meeting hall. The child heard the queen
announce her decision to the coven.

Miserable, MeLora detested
living in the illumrof world. She resented losing the crown and she hated
Elsbeth and her daughters. She contrived to steal Shy-Ryn’s throne, but first
she had to be allowed back in Sanctuary. Forbidden to return, the only way she
could cross realms was for Shy-Ryn to die.

The child
put plans in motion by making friends with the village girls her age and
filling their heads with tales of witchcraft and falsehoods about Elsbeth and her
daughters.

~Pages of history from the
Winslow witches.

In the Year of Samhain, 1691

Sanctuary

Saylym felt pleased that the house and everything in it
remained quiet and calm as she readied herself for Talon's picnic. The cold
snap had blown itself out. The sun once again promised spring. It was a
beautiful morning. It was a
wonderful
morning.

As she stepped out of the shower and patted herself dry
with a fluffy, yellow towel, Saylym hoped it wasn’t a sign of bad things to
come, like the calm before the storm.

She reached for the red satin thong she’d laid out to
wear, and eyeballed the intriguing little arrow of faux diamonds pointing in
the direction of the land of milk and honey. Not that anyone was going to see
said arrow or plow said land, but it made her feel sexy knowing it was there.

She
smoothed rose-scented lotion over her shoulders and legs and then stepped into
a pair of cut-off jean shorts. Saylym hummed beneath her breath, grinning like
a loon as she tied a knot in the soft blue shirt beneath her breasts. Black
rope sandals completed her wardrobe.

Quickly
braiding her hair, she left the thick rope swinging down the middle of her
back. A quick spritz of her favorite rose scented perfume, and presto, she was
ready to face the world. And Talon.

Not a hint of weirdness hung in the air to complicate her
life. Everything felt downright normal. Her bed snored softly.

“Yes,” she yelled and kicked one leg in the air like a
cheerleader. She felt like dancing and skipping around in pure joy. She was
even courageous enough to glide lipstick onto her mouth. Cotton-candy pink.
Saylym licked her lips. Mmm. It even tasted like cotton candy. Sugary and
sweet.

The
better to kiss you with, my dear. Hee-hee-hee.

Well…why
not?

No reason I can think of. Hee-hee-hee.

Good
grief, Saylym. Get a life!

I’m
trying. Leave me alone.

Saylym smiled as she tip-toed past the snoring bed. She
barely resisted the urge to yell,
“Wake up,”
as loudly as she could,
just to pay the freakin’ bed back for rolling her out of it. She left before
she gave in to temptation. She made her way to the front of the house in time
to hear a soft rap on the door.

Talon.

A
rush of happiness slid over her.

Whoa,
girl. Take a step back and think about this. When did this self-proclaimed
waken come to mean so much to you?

Shut-up,
voice, I’m not discussing anything else with you today.

Was
her life finally returning to normal?

She
smiled and pumped a victory fist in the air. “Yes-yes-yes!”

Well, mostly. There was still the bed. Perhaps it was just
a little too soon to celebrate. But she wasn’t about to let a little thing like
a snoring bed ruin her day.

Grinning in anticipation, she opened the door, her breath
suddenly lodging in her throat. My goodness, he was handsome.

A frown drew his brows together. “Something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Saylym blinked. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

She slid a wicked glance over him. He wore faded jeans
that rode low on his lean hips. A navy blue tee shirt hugged his muscular chest
and complemented the warm, gold tone of his skin.

He
removed a pair of mirrored sunglasses and hooked them on the neck of his shirt.

“Ready?”
he asked, smiling.

Saylym
nodded. The touch of his fingers as he slid a smooth arm around her bare waist
and pulled her to his side sent a tingle up her spine.

“How
do you feel about walking?” he asked.

“I love walking,” she said, her throat dry as parchment. “Where
are we going?” Saylym fell into step beside him and they started down the
boardwalk. “And where’s lunch?”

“Nuh-uh,
no questions. It’s a surprise.”

He guided her toward the east end of town then down a
narrow, winding path that cut through the woods.

Saylym grinned as she caught the soothing sounds of
running water. A delighted gasp slipped past her lips as a flat-boarded
millhouse came into view. Twin waterwheels brought to mind of an easier, more
tranquil time. She looked around—taking pleasure in the ideal spot Talon had
chosen for their picnic.

A
faded, patchwork quilt lay spread upon the ground near the placidly turning
wheels. Tiny star-shaped flowers covered the ground with an enchanting red
blanket. An old-fashioned wicker picnic basket nestled on one corner of the
quilt, along with a chilling bottle of red wine in a wooden bucket overflowing
with ice.

“How
delightful.” Saylym turned to face Talon. “It’s beautiful.”

It
was incredible. Romantic. A woman would find it hard not to fall for a man who
could set up something so picture-perfect. “You’re forgiven for the week of
ignoring me.”

“Am
I?” Talon’s voice sounded strained.

He
tilted her chin up with a fingertip, swallowing hard. “This is a happy moment,”
he said. “Not a time for feeling blue. Witches never cry. Remember that.” He
pulled her down on the quilt beside him. “Feed me, woman. I’m starving.”

He stared at her mouth.

“What?” Saylym questioned as she unwrapped thick roast
beef sandwiches and a paper plate with an assortment of cubed cheeses. A second
plate held fingers of sour pickles and tempting green olives stuffed with
pimento. She popped an olive into Talon’s mouth, and he grinned as he chewed.
“I want food, woman, not little red and green snacks.”

Saylym
laughed. “You packed the lunch, sir. Not I.”

“What
was I thinking?”

After
a moment, he reached for the wine bottle, popped off the cork, and poured the
dark red liquid into paper cups. “I couldn’t find wine glasses, but the cups
will suffice,” he said.

Because she was admiring her surroundings, she shook her
head and pressed a thick sandwich into his hands, then took a bite of her own.
“Mmm, delicious.” As she chewed, she looked around. “I hope the owner doesn’t
get upset with us being here,” she said, swallowing. “It looks as if he’s doing
some repairs on the house.”

“He won’t mind,” Talon replied, biting lustily into his
sandwich and washing it down with wine. “I talked to him first, and he said,
‘Go for it, Talon. That’s one beautiful witch, and you should do something
special for her.’ I agreed.”

“He
did not.” Saylym laughed. “You’re making that up.”

“Swear to the gods,” Talon said, grinning as he held up
his left hand. “I bought the place a few days ago,” he confessed between bites
of roast beef. “I’ve been doing the repairs myself. I enjoy working with my
hands. I want to fix it up, and move out of the palace into a place of my own.”

“Palace,
huh?” Saylym rolled her eyes and took another bite.

Talon
sighed. Clearly, she still did not believe he was a prince or that she was a
witch. He shook his head, finished off his sandwich, and poured a second cup of
wine for both of them. They nibbled on cheese cubes and let the soothing sounds
of the burbling water drift over them.

And
Talon watched Saylym.

Watched…and ached to touch her. He wanted his hands on
her. He wanted to be on her and in her, rocking them both to completion. Heat
licked at his groin, a trail of liquid fire.

To occupy his mind, he kicked off his black canvas shoes
and twisted around until he could lay his head in her lap. Idly, he touched a
strand of her hair that had worked free of the braid, amazed as the shiny curl
seemed to come alive and wrap around his finger of its own accord. He inhaled
deeply. Her hair smelled like wild roses and he knew that for eternity, he
would always associate the fragrance with her.

He stroked a finger up and down one of her smooth legs,
settling just beneath the edge of her shorts. “You have the sexiest legs.”

Saylym choked on a bite of her sandwich.

Talon paused, enjoying the faint color rising to her
cheeks. “Tell me about you, Saylym,” he drawled, and touched the edge of her
thong.

She
jerked and took a deep gulp of her wine as his finger did a slow probe beneath
the thong, edging closer to the land Down Under, all without benefit of faux
arrow.

“Nothing
to tell,” she gasped.

She
clamped her fingers around his wrist as he edged toward his quest.

He
lifted a brow. “No?”

She
wasn’t certain if he was asking about progressing to what lay beneath the thong
or if he was replying to her statement that there was nothing to tell. She
swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “You first
, Prince
Talon,” she
teased.

“Honey, you can do anything to me you want. I don’t mind.”
He brought her hand to the top button of his jeans. His eyes darkened to forest
green. “Touch me anywhere you want.”

Saylym
let out a deep breath. Well, guess that answered what he was referring to with
his ‘No?’

She
nibbled on her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I
did.”

He
was seducing her, she thought wildly. And she was going to let him.

Her
heart pounded in her chest.

How
could she stop him?

Did
she even want to?

No.
She wanted this man. She’d wanted him from the moment she saw him.

Talon hesitated, flicking his lazy gaze over her before
releasing her hand. Then he shrugged. “Sure?” he asked grinning.

She
nodded, licking her lips. He stifled a moan, then continued, “Well, I’m the
younger son of King Darak and Queen Helayne, the royal rulers of Ru-Noc. I have
one brother, Stry, who is heir to the throne, and a younger sister, Kali.”

“Ru-Noc?”
Saylym took a sip of wine. “I think you’re making that up.”

He
searched her eyes, a slight frown on his face. “Perhaps.”

“You
have no desire to be king?” she teased.

“Hell,
no! Although they’re my family, I detest the guild’s damnable games of intrigue
and politics.” Talon’s brows drew together. “I love my parents, but it’s time I
moved into a place of my own.”

He took her cup and drank from it, pressing his lips where
hers had touched. He drank slowly, watching her over the rim of the cup. Saylym
stared back, observing his throat as he swallowed. She wondered how he could
make the simple act of drinking and swallowing look so incredibly sexy.

He gave her a slow grin, handing her the empty cup. She
shook her head and reached for the bottle to refill it.

“My sister Kali,” he said slowly, ogling her as she drank
from the cup, “will probably live with them forever. She’s spoiled rotten and one
day she’ll make some unsuspecting
waken’s
life miserable.”

“Why
is that?” Saylym asked, curious about his sister.