Hell if she knew. She probably shouldn’t do anything, much less play with fire—both literal and the flame that was Simon, with his irresistible smile and seductive whispers. But she pushed those more logical, sensible thoughts to the back of her mind. Tonight wasn’t about being sensible. And she wasn’t the clumsy, cursed, bumbling witch. She was a mistress of her own fate. A queen. A woman who never made mistakes. A conqueror.
And she had a man to conquer.
“First, we must establish a connection between us. For the spell.” She reached for her silver chalice and her moon water, stored in a small crystal bottle, and poured in a couple of sips. She turned to Simon, the soft fabric of her shirt brushing against his chest. She always had to charge her kit—her chalice, her crystals, the water she drank—but she’d never felt as charged herself as she did now, when that mere touch sent tingles down her body.
She took a sip, then, keeping eye contact with Simon, offered him the chalice. His fingers covered hers, holding the rim, as he lifted it to his lips.
“In spells, different objects represent different elements of nature,” she murmured, her gaze trapped on his lips. “The chalice represents water. It also represents the feminine.”
“What are the other elements?” His voice was low, perfectly melding into the soft darkness that embraced them.
She reached behind with one hand, bringing forward her black-handled double-edged dagger. “The ritual knife. It’s never used for physical cutting; only for symbolic. To connect parts of the spell or direct energy. You see …” She took his hand and guided it to the knife’s handle. “The chalice is the female principle. The womb of the goddess. The knife is the male principle.” Her breath quickened as she led their joined hands up, so the knife hovered above the chalice. “You can thrust the knife into the opening of the chalice … to represent sexual intercourse.” And she pushed their hands down.
“Symbolic?”
“Purely.” She put both back on the table behind her, not turning away from Simon. “It’s the sacred marriage between the goddess and god, a union of energies.”
“And what else do you do in this ritual?”
“You draw a grid to connect components. But we have no room …” She glanced around, but her gaze was drawn helplessly back to him, lingering on the tantalizing patch of skin revealed by the undone upper button of his shirt.
You’re a witch. You’re a queen. So conquer.
“Take off your shirt.”
He waited for a second, then reached for the buttons. She turned around, rifling through her small bag of ingredients until she found the bottle she needed—a thick herbal concoctionbased on rose and cinnamon oils. She opened it, turned around, and her mouth went dry.
She’d seen Simon topless before—when she had to change his clothes while he rested after the resurrection ritual, and when they went swimming in the park—but that was different. The air hadn’t been charged with his thick, masculine scent, the darkness hadn’t been embracing them as if to say, “Do what you wish, I’ll tell no one,” and he hadn’t been only a few inches away from her own bursting body.
He lowered his eyes to the bottle. “What will you do?”
“Put a spell on you.” She dipped her index finger into the brown liquid and hovered it above his chest, gathering the rest of her courage.
Her finger still shook as she began drawing on his chest, a few inches below the hollow of his neck. A stylized shape of a woman with a spiral going toward her center, two half moons surrounding her on each side. “The goddess brings us spiritual relief, hope, and love,” she murmured as she focused on the sigil.
She tried hard to resist the temptation of laying her entire hand on him; to get that full feeling of his warm skin, of his life, his electricity. Feel the muscles flex beneath her fingertips.
Gulping, she reached into the bottle again and progressed to his left side. “A heart,” she said, drawing the symbol above his nipple. “Self-explanatory.” It was the simplest symbol to draw, but she still paused there, and her fingers met his skin as his chest lifted. He stood perfectly still, and as she raised her eyes, his were locked on her, a glittering dark blue, intense, earnest,wanting.
Her mouth was parched as if she hadn’t drunk for days, but further down, between her legs, an almost painful ball of want and anticipation formed, wetting her core in preparation.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then proceeded to the next symbol. “The pentacle. Love, prosperity, protection. Alwaysgood to have.” She painted it over the smooth muscle of his right chest. “And then, the last one.” She dipped her finger into the concoction that had become her paint and crouched to be on the eye level with his stomach. “The love knot. Symbolizes the interconnection of souls.” She painted an intricate knot over the light ripple of his abs. She rose back up, her finger sliding along his skin. “And finally, the connection.” She drew lines between all the sigils, traveling over the hills and valleys of his muscles, brushing the light hair over his chest, circling around his nipples.
Simon caught her wrist as she was done, pressing it to his chest. He gave her a light smirk. “Am I thoroughly enchanted now?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled back. “You tell me.”
“I think …” Mouth partially open, he gazed down her body. “You need to take part, too.”
“Huh?”
“We both drank from the chalice. We have to share in the spell, yes?” His hands dropped to her waist, where he clutched the fabric of her shirt. “Share with me, witch,” he whispered into her hair as his hands traveled up, sliding the silk-smooth fabric along her skin. She lifted her arms and let him take her top off, reveling in every touch of his fingers against her and the trail of golden sparks they left behind.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did so, facing the console table. He brushed her hair to the front to reveal the curve of her back and unclasped her bra. She made half a movement to catch it, but let it slip to the floor, freeing her. Her locket settled between her breasts, the cold metal shocking her until it quickly attuned to her body heat.
A moment of nothing, and then his finger touched her back, drawing a wet trail behind. “A heart,” he said. She focused onthe movements, feeling the shape as he drew it between her shoulder blades. “A love knot …”
