This Wicked Magic (18 page)

“For what? You planning on doing a little cleaning? I know this place is a mess—”

“Spellcraft supplies,” she clarified. “For...” She tilted her head and studied him, and he sensed a teasing challenge in her mien. “I want to suggest something to you, and I hope you’ll take it with the same hope and goodwill it is presented.”

“All right.” He swallowed the rest of his chartreuse and sensed he might need a refill, but instead of pouring, he held the whole bottle of pale green liquor at the ready. “I am open to whatever you suggest.”

“There’s a spell Libby and I found in my grandmother’s book of shadows. A sex spell.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s for expelling demons. Two witches have sex and recite incantations, and it opens the one for demon exorcism. Kind of similar to how it’s done using a familiar, but...not.”

He smirked and rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t seen that one coming, and yet... He pulled out the folded paper from his pocket he’d been carrying around for days and handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“I found this torn from one of the grimoires after we made out in the archives. Haven’t wanted to bring it up until—” he nudged her cheek with his forehead, where she smelled like lemons, and kissed her aside her mouth, where he scented violets “—we got closer.”

She read over it. “It’s a sex spell. Great minds, eh?”

“I’ll say. You want to conjure some wicked magic?”

“I’ve heard sex spells are as wicked as they get. I’ve never done anything like this, CJ.”

“They are dangerous. When one is in the throes of sexual orgasm, it’s difficult to concentrate fully and all sorts of things can go wrong. But if utilized properly, the spell can be effective.”

“Have you any tattoos for such spellwork?”

“Did you notice any last night?”

She stroked her fingers over his jeans, and his cock responded with a heavy swelling. “I didn’t see any in this vicinity.”

“Mainly because I’m not letting anyone with a sharp instrument near my jewels. But no, no sex spells.”

“Pax, sax, sarax,” she murmured.

“Yes, the chant to prolong orgasm.”

“It worked,” she said on a breath.

“Oh, yeah. I’m not sure how this can work though.” He tapped the paper. “It can draw the demon out of me, but there’s no promise of expulsion from this realm once that’s done. I don’t want a stray demon wandering about Paris looking for another host.”

“If it’s incorporeal it’ll get sucked to the place of all demons, as the others did when I expelled them from you.”

“Right. In theory. But what if it wanted to have sex with you?”

“I don’t think, well— I’m sure that won’t happen.”

He felt sure it would. And he didn’t want Vika to have to deal with that, nor could he conceive of allowing such a thing. “No, I don’t think I can do this.”

“But, CJ, it’s the next best thing to me accidentally stumbling onto another corpse light while you’re around.”

“That happy accident has occurred twice now. Not so accidental, if you ask me. And what if, once released, the demon entered you?”

“What do you mean? How would it enter—?”

“If it can latch onto a new host, it will. If a simple corpse light can attach to your soul, I don’t want to think of what a demon could do to you. Yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He stood, but Vika grabbed his wrist, and he reluctantly sat down.

“We can do this, Certainly. I want to do it for you.” She touched him above his temple, where she must have felt his pulse. It felt like her own brand of skin magic, humming softly, a reminder of their combined powers. “If we think it’s not going well, we can abandon ship. No losses, just some great sex.” She touched her grandmother’s nail. “And I’ve this as protection. Please? I want to try this for you.”

“I don’t understand. After nearly tossing you down the stairs the other day, forcing you on a manic car chase, and generally being an asshole when occupied by my gang of demons, how can you still want to be kind to me?”

“I don’t understand how you can still ask such a question.”

“I know we’ve grown closer. Hell, making love with you is amazing. I feel connected to you, Vika. But I don’t want you to trip over the exciting stuff and land in the messy stuff. Said messy stuff being me. I know you think I’m in your life to muss you up, but—”

“Don’t you trust I’m smart enough to handle this relationship?”

“Is this a relationship?” he said softly. “Because if it is, how did I get so lucky?”

She smoothed her palm along his cheek. “Look into my eyes, lover.”

He did so and found he could stare endlessly into Vika’s eyes. To fall into that inviting forest and know freedom. Peace.

But he would not. Glancing aside, he said, “We should never soul gaze. Not until the demons are gone.”

“Then let’s make it happen.” She kissed him, her mouth open and soft, tearing away his reluctance kiss by kiss. Wrapping his arms about her, he pulled her onto his lap. His hands strayed to her breasts, her thighs, her mons beneath the short crocheted skirt.

“Mmm, we’ve a good start,” she suggested.

And he wasn’t going to lose this erection anytime soon. Nodding, he relented.

“Thank you. I brought along some things listed in the spell, but I don’t have the rue.”

“I have hellebore and rue. And red candles. You need red for sex magic.”

“And blood,” she said softly. “You’ll need to consecrate your athame.”

“And I’ll require something a little stronger than chartreuse. Probably whiskey.” He drew her face toward him and centered on her gaze. “You sure about this?”

She nodded, her eyes alight with possibility. “Race you to the spell table.”

* * *

Glasses on to read the spell, Certainly had taken off his shirt and pointed out the tattoo above his right hip to Vika. It wasn’t for sex spells but for endurance and strength.

“And, it can deflect a bullet,” he said proudly, tapping the tiny compilation of stacked symbols queued in three narrow lines down his side, where the muscles flexed and drew her attention away from the dark lines.

“You ever test that claim?” she asked.

“In the nineteen-sixties I took a bullet to the leg.” He took a swig from the whiskey bottle sitting on the spell table. “It skimmed off me and hit an oak tree instead. Thanks to this.”

Vika nodded, not sure if she could buy into that or, more likely, the possibility the shooter’s aim had been off in the first place. Stroking the sexy, hard cut of muscle that defined his torso just above his hip, she said, “Should I ask what reason you gave another person to want to shoot you?”

“Probably you shouldn’t. It was a volatile time.”

“Uh-huh.”

The ingredients necessary were all to hand as Vika stood beside Certainly preparing them in the mortar. He offered her the whiskey and she took a careful sip. She wasn’t much for hard liquor, but despite her determination, she was feeling tense about accomplishing her goal. If all went well, she would have to trick her lover. “Mmm, what’s that?”

“Tunisian vanilla for the sensual mood we need to create.” He rubbed the inside of the bean pod against the bowl of the mortar then stroked his finger behind her ear. “I love this scent.”

“You perfuming me, lover?”

“Words, smoke and the sensory all combine for a stronger spell,” he murmured against her neck as she tended the ingredients, and his attention wandered. “This dress is so short. It’s not your usual Morticia wear.”

“You don’t like my long dresses?”

“Love them. You wear them so tight, makes it easy to visualize what’s beneath. Mmm, and what is beneath makes me so hard.” He nipped playfully at her earlobe, and she squirmed up against his rock-hard chest. “But this is purple. Bright and bold. It’s not you.”

“It’s Libby’s. I thought I’d try something...different for the spell.” His fingers trailed down her spine and to her derriere. “Figured it would be appropriate for bloodsexmagic. You like it?”

“Vivacious Vixen,” he cooed at her ear, nuzzling to scent the vanilla he’d stroked there, while his hand slipped beyond the, indeed, short hem of her dress. “No panties.”

She wiggled her hips. “Not a thread. Where’s the rue?”

Without stopping the gliding strokes his fingers dashed over her thighs, CJ reached high to the overhead shelf for the rue and handed it to her.

“If you think I can concentrate on spellwork, red witch, now knowing you are pantyless, you had better think again.” Moving around behind her, CJ kissed her hair. His finger swept forward, between her legs, and lashed her wet folds. “Of course, that’s the point of this all, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind me getting started now. What’s next?” he asked on a breathy tone.

“That’s everything. We need to smudge the circle with this and— Oh. Oh, that’s...mmm-hmm...”

“Bend,” he whispered.

Vika obeyed his command, spreading her arms to the sides along the wood worktable and bringing her head forward over the mortar fragrant with vanilla and herbs. She tilted her hips, seeking his expert control. “Oh, mercy, Certainly.”

He unzipped his jeans and hugged up against her derriere, sliding a hand around in front to tickle her sensual folds. She pressed a hand over his hip. “No, we can’t. We have to conserve the sexual energy for the spell.”

“Right.” He stroked her faster, wetting his fingers deep within her. “Just getting us ready. You’re so wet, I don’t know if I can wait. We ready? Damn, this short skirt!”

He tugged her upright and kissed her passionately. Vika felt all the man’s frustrations unloose in that kiss. It was rough and needy, and unstoppable. He wanted her now. His body shuddered with restrained control. She took secret delight in owning the power over him.

“I think we’re ready.” He set his glasses on the table and snagged the whiskey bottle. “Grab the mortar.”

He’d poured a wide salt circle earlier, in the north corner of the living area, which sat before the floor-to-ceiling windows. The circle was big enough for a couch to fit inside. Or two people.

Or one very angry demon.

* * *

“Don’t break the circle,” Vika said, cautioning him as they stepped inside. She set the mortar by the tote bag she’d brought along and ensured the remote for the chandeliers was tucked in the couch cushion where she’d left it. Within arm’s reach. “Light the candles.”

CJ had placed six red candles around the circle, and now with a snap of his finger, he ignited them in succession. Simple parlor trick, not fire magic, unfortunately. “You coming down from that hot, slippery passion, sweetie?”

She hugged him from behind, grabbing his crotch and giving it a good squeeze. “Not even.”

Blowing whiskey-tainted breath toward the final candle, he sent a stream of flame spraying out from the wick. “Let’s do this, oh, Torturous One.”

They stepped inside the circle, and CJ unzipped his pants.

“Take them off,” she said, stepping before him and trailing a finger she’d dipped into the vanilla emulsion along the waistband. A shift of his hips slid the loose jeans down. His marvelous, thick shaft sprang up, ready for her touch. Looking over his body, decorated with tattoos, a literal map of spellcraft, Vika then took hold of his hard-on and led him to the center of the circle. “Take off my dress.”

“At your command.” He did so, while she maintained a firm grasp of him. She wanted to keep her subject close, and also the control she felt in holding him would aid in the spell’s efficacy and her confidence.

“If this works,” he said, “and we come together, the demon should be expelled into the circle. We both jump out. Then you have to send it to Daemonia.”

Yes. That was the part she knew wouldn’t work. Why? Because she’d never ousted a demon from this realm before, and she wasn’t confident she could without years of study. Her spell required something else, a more intimate connection that would seduce the demon and thus allow her control over it.

CJ reached outside the circle and took a pull from the whiskey bottle. Vika touched his wet lips and tasted it on her fingers. He, in turn, dipped his fingers into the mortar of scented potion and then trailed his finger over her skin, riding the rise of her breast and moving up along her neck. He dashed his forefinger over her lips, opening her mouth and slicking his finger in along her tongue. She licked him, beginning the process of surrender to the sensual, the magical and opening themselves to one another.

Hell, whom was she kidding? That process had started the moment he’d first kissed her, and she hadn’t come down from the wanting, sexual high since.

“You’re my girl,” he whispered against her mouth. “Bright red light that shines upon my darkness. Never felt so right than with you, Viktorie. So right.”

What they shared did feel right, even when it was so wrong.

Beneath the eerily bright storm of suspended chandelier crystals, they knelt before each other and clasped hands. The Latin words they chanted had been scribed through the centuries. There were only a few, but that was all they needed. It was the intonation and the rhythm that defined the atmosphere and opened it to their combined magic.

Arms raised and fingers entwined, they bowed their foreheads to one another. Certainly kissed her and whispered,
“It sil heve.” It will happen.

Dark and fervent, CJ groped her body roughly, moving his palms all over her skin. The electric hum of the tattoos on his hand ignited her nerve endings. The rhythm of their chant beat through her veins, setting a musical tone to their breaths, their desire, their intentions.

On their knees before one another, she stroked his erection against her belly. Their bodies grew slick with perspiration and desire. Vika’s chants slowed as her mind dallied with riding the pleasure and concentration upon the task. She could master this spell and her lover at the same time. Stroking, squeezing and pulling his hardness produced an agonizingly wanting moan from CJ.

He bent to suckle her breasts, the tug-lick-nip of his mouth to her skin coaxing her senses wide to receive. The heat of the surrounding candle flames danced through her pores. Attar of roses and rue scented their gasps, and Tunisian vanilla glided in the wake of seeking fingers and mouths.