He urged her to brace herself once more on the shower wall and bend over slightly. He gripped her hips and slowly withdrew his cock almost all the way out before driving back in. She hissed as he sank back in, but when she pushed toward him, he knew it was okay to continue. He withdrew, thrust in, and the sound of their bodies meeting echoed off the shower walls around them, in perfect accompaniment to her panting little cries.
Malcolm couldn’t get enough of Calli. Taking her like this, feeling her body connected to his, was a magic of a very different kind. It was an ancient, primal, animalistic sort of magic. He claimed her with every thrust and she claimed him right back as she wriggled her hips and tightened around his cock, encouraging him to lose himself in her. And he was lost, so fucking lost, but it felt incredible to give himself over to her in that moment.
“Malcolm… please…” his little witch begged. How sweet was that sound?
“Tell me what you need, honey,” Malcolm had always liked vocal lovers. It was important for him to know what a woman wanted so he could best give it to her.
“Harder… more…” The words rasped from Calli’s throat.
He reached up, tangling one hand in her wet hair, and gently pulling her head back just enough to create a slight pressure so she arched her back to create a new angle for him to drive into her. He fucked her hard until his legs shook, and he knew she wasn’t going to stay on her feet much longer, either. And neither would he.
“Come for me, baby,” he urged in a growl.
Two seconds later, her walls clamped down around his cock as she came, and it nearly killed him. He followed her into that orgasm, his body releasing all the built-up tension in an exquisite release, deep inside her. He caught her by the waist when her legs suddenly gave out.
“Hold on,” he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.
He pulled out, and before she could collapse, he turned her around to face him and held her close, keeping her on her feet. The water ran down over their bodies, still hot, and he kissed her forehead as she trembled.
“Mal—Malcolm,” she breathed in a shaky voice that tore at his heart.
“I know, honey.”
The witch-lock was closer than ever. He could almost feel her emotions and sensations now, as though only a thin veil separated the two of them. It was almost too much to take in, but there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be other than holding Calli in his arms.
“We’re almost bonded,” she said.
He brushed his fingertips over her cheeks. “I know,” he agreed. “And… I think I’m okay with that.” It was such a strange experience to feel such closeness to her, to anyone. What would it take to push them over that last barrier and finally lock?
“We should get out before the water turns cold,” Calli said. Malcolm agreed with a silent nod and kissed her forehead again before turning the water off.
How much had everything changed after last night? He knew he had changed. Hell, he’d almost died last night up on those cliffs. But Calli had saved him. She’d ridden a broom straight up to the edge and pulled him back.
Last night, he could still see the ghostly specters of those old witches when he’d closed his eyes. Would they be there again tonight? He had never known that spells could leave an echo after such a long passage of time.
“Calli, those old witches on the cliffs… have you ever seen anything like that before?”
She had a towel wrapped around her body now, and was drying her hair with a smaller one. She turned to look at him in surprise.
“No, never. But really powerful spells can linger like that. I’ve just never seen it happen myself. If you’d asked me about it yesterday, I might have said that the stories about such things were exaggerated. But now…?” She handed him a towel, which he wrapped around his hips.
“So that was how the protective wards were put into place. The first witches in Moonstone cast their spells on that cliff,” he said. “That might help us find a way to re-create it.”
Calli eyed him seriously. “Not in the same way, I hope. Mrs. Greenlee said the spell needed a blood sacrifice.”
He hadn’t forgotten that little detail. “If there’s one thing I know about magic, there’s always another way to get what you want. We just have to figure out what we need to do in order to work around it.”
He stepped into the bedroom, then headed toward the guestroom where his spare clothes were. He pulled on a set of jeans and a lightweight black sweater, then met Calli in the hall. She’d donned a black T-shirt with an old-school illustration of a vampire and coffin and the word Dracula beneath it. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” She glanced down at herself.
“Your shirt. It’s cute.”
“Thanks.” She beamed at them. “Even Byron likes it, and he usually gets fussy about the way vampires are depicted in books and movies.”
“I can imagine,” Malcolm said. Vampires were usually depicted as ruthless killers or tortured souls fighting against their hunger. But they were just like anyone. Some good, some bad, and most in between.
Calli suddenly gasped. “Oh my God! I need to call Sage and tell her you’re okay! Where’s my stupid cell phone?” She started for the stairs, muttering to herself about the places she might have left it. He found it amusing that she possessed both a cellphone and a computer, but rarely used either. She reminded him so much of his father when it came to that.
