Kali Willows BUNDLE (Shadowed Desires Series) (6 page)

Watching him lie there, motionless, a wave of scalding heat rushed through her.

“Gwen, what’s happening to you? What are you doing?” Yong gripped her arm, and then bellowed in pain.

Barely able to hear or see him, consuming red overtook her vision, and sound faded away. All she could see were tantalizing lips, calling to her inner animal. She leaned down and delivered a soft kiss to her motionless dragon. Tenderness swept over her and the intensity of her yearning for him magnified.

“Tatsu, come back to me.” She lingered against his cooling mouth. Her head ached. Her stomach flared with stabbing pain, and then everything faded to black.

***

“Gwen?” The sound of his voice grew closer, as she tried to lift her pounding head. “Sweetie, wake up, please?”

She collected her senses and forced her heavy lids open.

“What happened, Yong?” She searched her memory. “Oh my God, Tatsu?”

“I’m right here.”

She focused and saw her double dragon.

“It worked?” She sat up in bed, wrinkling her nose at the scent of the charred bedding underneath her.

“Yes, it did. It was you all along.” Tatsu caressed her face with his palm.

“What do you mean?” She was still naked, but for the comforting warmth of Yong’s bomber jacket draped over her.

“Don’t you remember what you did?” Yong took her hand.

“What happened to you, Yong?” She inspected the wrapped gauze.

“A minor casualty, in the midst of everything.” He gave a wink. “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Tatsu almost died. You saved his life.”

“How?” She looked at their jade green eyes with relief.

“You breathed fire into me.” Tatsu said. “You gave me your energy.”

“I did?”

“According to Grandfather, that’s a dragon’s bond—the mating bond.”

“Your grandfather?”

“We called him; we weren’t sure what to do.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours; your temperature is back to normal, now.”

“It wasn’t before?”

“No, you were running a bit of a fever.” Yong chuckled.

“How high?”

“We—couldn’t figure that out.”

“Oh?”

“Yong went to the hotel and grabbed some first aid stuff and a thermometer.” Tatsu smoothed his hand over her bandaged hips.

“Oh, yeah, and…?”

“Before we could get a reading, you melted the thermometer.” They smiled at her. “Our dragoness.” Yong gave her a sexy grin.

“What about you?” She reached for Tatsu, turning him to the side, examining his bare back.

She observed bandages, but nothing unusual.

“You’re normal now?”

“Well, almost.” Yong kissed her hand and got up.

“You’re still the same?” She looked back and forth.

“We’re better than that. We’re both safe now. Thanks to you, it’s over.”

“I can’t believe it worked.” She threw her arms around Tatsu and squeezed him tight.

“There’s only one problem now.”

“What’s that, Yong?”

“We’re kinda hooked on you; do you think you could handle two dragons around for a little while?”

Watching them both, she eased back into the pillow.

“What?” Tatsu’s brows furrowed.

“I get two of you to myself?”

“We can see how it plays out, if you like.”

“That all depends.”

“On what?”

“How’s my hair? Did you singe it?”

They burst out into laughter.

“Oh, one more thing.” Tatsu patted her hand.

“Yes?”

He nodded at the bar behind him.

“Got it.” Yong got up, walked over to the bar, and grabbed something from the counter. He backed toward her, hiding it in front of him.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s after twelve.”

“Okay, so?”

“Happy birthday,” they recited. Yong turned around with an elegant, white-iced cake.

“How did you know?”

“Madame Eve arranged to have the cake left in the bar fridge, with a note, we were to say happy birthday after midnight.”

“That’s so sweet,” she gushed, reaching for it.

“Oh, hold on, we’re missing something.”

“Right here.” Yong held up two candles, and stood beside Tatsu, handing him one. They blew on the wicks, igniting them.

“Make a wish.”

“It already came true.” Gwen blew out the candles and took the cake, placing it on the end table. She removed the jacket and lay back on the bed, ready for her gift.

Damnation & Desire

Chapter One

Flipping through the pages of the crumbling Latin text with growing disturbance, Tessa felt the thumping in her chest grow to an uncomfortable pace. Long before the Salem witch trials, Heinrich Kramer, 15th century cleric, penned—or quilled—the Malleus Maleficarum and set aflame one very short, but cruel, witch hunt.

“Section Three...those bastards!” She jerked away from the book as if expecting the repugnant words to leap off the page and set her ablaze.

Page after page of detailed instructions for gruesome torture—and ghastly illustrations—further drove her need to complete her thesis despite how appalling the topic was. Researching and translating the ancient language brought her the agonizing knowledge that the women accused of practicing witchcraft had no way to escape interrogation, torture, and eventual death. The pain and suffering of these victims afflicted her personally as she absorbed their history.

Glancing over her shoulder at her empty inbox on the monitor, Tessa fiddled with her pentagram necklace like a security blanket and tapped her foot. With a sigh of annoyance, she refocused on the project in front of her, flipping through the pages of the ancient manual.

You have mail
. She tensed when she saw the message from Madame Evangeline. Before taking the leap, she inhaled and composed herself. 1Night Stand’s success was critical for so many reasons. She clicked on the email.

Your match has been found and your date has been arranged at the Castillo Resort in Salem
, Massachusetts,
on the thirty-first day of October. You will attend the Witch’s Ball in the Sapphire Ballroom of the hotel
.

Halloween? Salem? Having her date in her hometown lacked the discretion she’d envisioned when she sought the services of Madame Eve. The sudden shrill of her ringing phone made her jump.

“Hello?”

“Hey Tess, any word yet?”

“Hi Jen, I just got her reply.” Her heavy shoulders drooped as she settled back into her chair.

“So, when is it? You don’t sound very enthused.”

“You won’t believe this; maybe Madame Evangeline has a sense of humor.”

“What?”

“It’s booked for Halloween night at the Witch’s Ball.”

“You’re kidding?” Jen’s laughter added to the unease settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yup, sending a Wiccan to the Witch’s Ball to get some—how the hell am I going to keep this discreet? Everyone in town will be there.”

“Oh, Tess, try not to worry. Just because they’re there doesn’t mean they’ll know it’s an arranged date. Meet him there and then take him somewhere else for the evening.”

“Madame Eve has the night planned; check in at three o’clock, attend the ball at seven. She made an appointment for us to
indulge in some of the celebrations
, but I have no idea what that means.”

“At the Festival of the Dead? I don’t imagine it will be a candlelight dinner or anything tame, but tame isn’t your style anyway.” A snicker resonated in her ear.

“I’m glad you’re amused.”

“I’ll be going to the ball with Johnny so if you run into any problems, I’ll be close by.”

“Thanks.” A halfhearted scoff slipped out as she tilted her leather office chair back and swayed side to side.

“She booked me into a suite. It feels like I’m playing with fire, so close to home.”

“Were you expecting to jet set across the world for one night?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

“It’s not like it’s an arranged marriage, Tess. It’s a night of fun, and unless you plan on bumping uglies in the middle of the dance floor, I would venture a guess that your discretion should remain intact, although your integrity may be in question.”

“Okay, smart ass, we’re good. Tell me about the curriculum this year; how were the changes?”

“I can take a hint. The changes are fine, but it’s not the same without you.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“How long is this sabbatical?”

“I don’t know. I need to finish my research and write my thesis.”

“I don’t understand your obsession with the Salem witch trials, Tess.”

“What’s to understand? I’m Wiccan. I live in Salem. I’m a generational witch and a descendent of Sarah Good.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and being a descendent of one of the first women accused of witchcraft in the witch hunts makes it personal for me.”

“You never told me that before.”

“I didn’t know until recently when I explored my family tree and discovered the information.”

“What is it you expect to accomplish with the book?”

“It’s not just a book. This abomination is—flesh and blood human beings were murdered because of it by using the ridiculous label of ‘witch’ to silence women who gave authority figures—men—trouble.”

“That’s so far in the past; what does it matter now?”

Her face growing hot, she ground her teeth, working to keep her fiery, redheaded temper under control—somewhat. She gripped the cordless phone with tense fingers.

“It matters because their deaths shouldn’t be in vain.”

“I’m not trying to get you riled up, girl. I just worry.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Where did you get the…abomination?”

“It was a stroke of luck—or misfortune, if you can believe it. I stumbled upon this relic in a pile of discarded books from the Salem Museum.”

“What do you mean by misfortune?”

“The horrific details are indescribable.”

“Tess, have they gotten any more intense?”

“They—what?”

“Your urges, while reading that—book?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m so ripe I could fall off the vine.” Tessa eyed the volume, its lure nearly drowning out her friend’s concern.

“Do you think there’s any connection to your research?”

“No, not exactly. The
Malleus Maleficarum
talks a lot about sexuality, but it’s not like reading erotica. I don’t find it titillating, just—fascinating, and disturbing at the same time. The primitive thinking about women being vulnerable to the devil’s influence because of their gender is unreal.”

“So the claims that the book incites sexuality in women...?”

“Oh, you know it’s a bunch of malarkey.”

“Sure, that’s what I thought, but then you wanted to get—a one-night stand. You’ve always been so prudish about who you sleep with.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Finicky maybe, but look how long it takes me to buy shoes, and they only go on my feet!”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Now, when I find the right shoes, it doesn’t take me long to wear them out.” Giving a purr through the phone, she grinned at Jen’s momentary silence.

“Eww. Point taken. Knock it off, you vixen.”

“I haven’t found the right guy—ever, really, and a girl has needs, you know?”

“Of course I know. It’s just not like you.”

“Are you saying I’m being tempted by the devil, Jen?”

“Call me old school, in Salem. It’s just that the book has so much dark history attached to it, I can’t dismiss the possibility.”

“Wow, are you ever superstitious.”

“I think you’re right about playing with fire. Try not to get consumed by it, okay?”

“Consumed? Me?” The book’s call grew stronger; her fingers teasing at the pages—were they warm? “I’ll see where it leads me.”

“You mean like to the gates of hell, you heathen?” Jen chuckled.

“Nice, now that’s a supportive message, you harlot.”

“Okay, seriously though, tell me some of the main points you’re basing your thesis on.”

She flipped through the hundreds of sticky notes protruding from the ancient text, excited to share her findings.

“
The Malleus Maleficarum
is a living piece of history containing some of the most ridiculous, yet enduring, assumptions about females you'll ever hear.” She opened to another page and read the note there. “The treatise describes how ‘
women become inclined for witchcraft, claiming they were susceptible to demonic temptations through their manifold weaknesses
’. People believed that they were weaker in faith and more carnal than men.”

“Manifold weaknesses, my word.”

“Even today, in rape trials or domestic assaults, men still refute their responsibility citing she asked for it. Look at how she’s dressed, how she walks, her hair was down—she breathed.”

“Don’t you think modern society has gotten better with that?”

“Maybe some, but the underlying message of women owning responsibility for bewitching a man because they can’t keep it in their pants is still there.”

“I can see your point. The trouble with your research and thesis, my dear friend, is how time consuming and isolating it can become. I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” Jen’s voice tightened, revealing her worry.

“I hear ya. I need to get my head clear. I’m done outlining it now—a little more research and maybe a small experiment....”

“What are you talking about?”

“This date. It’s about sex anyway, so I’m going all out. I’m gonna do everything and not worry about the consequences.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a one-night stand. He’ll be there for the same reason, more or less, and I’ll never have to see him again. I’ll take precautions.”

“Sounds like the makings of a real happily ever after.”

“I already told you,
happily ever after
is not in my future, but a happy right now might be. At least this way I can test my theory about bewitching and tempting a mortal man.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean—are you casting a spell on him?”