9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (19 page)

“Yes.” MeLora agreed. “Perhaps. Have you chosen a name for
our son?”

“Lucifer.”

“Perfect,”
she said, laughing.

“Absolutely,”
he whispered and nibbled at her nape.

MeLora
arched into his touch, moaning her pleasure at his light touches. “We must be
careful, Black Drayke. To accomplish our goal, the king must believe he spilled
his seed inside me and it took root. It’s imperative he have memories of mating
with me. There can be no doubts bandied about that the child I carry isn’t his.”

Black
Drayke cupped her heavy breasts and nuzzled her throat. “King Darak will not be
able to resist your magic or your charm. He’ll believe this child is his. He
won’t deny it.”

MeLora held up a vial of powder, shaking it. “He’ll not
resist my magic once I pour this in his wine. He won’t be able to think about
any woman but me.” She shrugged. “I intend to make certain he has no doubt the
babe is his.” She gave a slight smile. “He’ll believe whatever I whisper in his
ear.”

Her
black gown swished softly, following the graceful lines of a lush body as she
turned away from her lover and paced about the room. Black Drayke licked his
lips, eyeing the tantalizing globes of her milky breasts spilling over the top
of the gown. A muscle ticked furiously in his jaw. “You’re meeting him
tonight?”

She nodded. Her dark eyes were as cold, as merciless and devoid
of expression as she knew Black Drayke’s were. “I’ll give him a taste of what
he’s missing. Very soon, I’ll reign as his queen at his side. As soon as my son
is born and he declares him his heir, Darak will be expendable. You will then
become my king.” She laughed. “I’ll give the king a son he can be proud of, not
those pathetically weak
wakens
Helayne has borne him.”

Black Drayke slanted a smile at her and tugged her closer.
He massaged her belly. “
My
son.” His face twisted with sudden boredom as
he released her. “What of Helayne? You think she will just move over and allow
you to take her crown?”

MeLora slid a long, red fingernail down his cheek.
“Helayne will be in no position to object. While I am stealing her crown, you’ll
take care of her.”

Drayke
frowned. “Take care of Helayne? And how would you suggest I do that? She’s no
fool.”

MeLora
checked the annoyance in her voice. She wasn’t quite ready to play her hand
with her lover. “Use your imagination. You have tons of untapped magic at your
fingertips. Use it. Weave a spell around her. Cast her inside the gilded mirror
in her room, where she can see and hear everything that happens in her chambers
but cannot get free to protest. Mate with her, if that’s your desire. I have no
care what you do to her.” She arched a brow and massaged his cock. “Surely, you
can think of ways to silence the queen? Hmmm?”

Black
Drayke laughed. “You’re so evil, my love.”

MeLora gave him a faint smile, filled with gloating
satisfaction when his cock stretched and filled her hand. “Yes, I am and never
forget it. I want you to record what you do to the queen in this.” She thrust a
red glass ball into his hands. “It will capture everything you do to her so I
can watch later. See to it she suffers.”

“I
have my means of persuasion, my dear,” Drayke sighed with pleasure as MeLora
went down on her knees in front of him and took his thick cock inside her mouth.
She knew how to please him.

He
locked his fingers in her hair and thrust deeply, again and again. Except for
his grunts of pleasure, a hush filled the room until she brought him to peak.
MeLora smiled and licked the last traces of his seed from the thick, bulbous
head of his twitching cock.

“The
queen will have nothing to say when I’m finished with her,” Drayke said.

MeLora stood up and clapped her hands. “Wonderful.
Disguise yourself as a palace guard in order to gain entrance inside. Even now,
Wizard Marcelo is busy concocting something special for me to use on the king.”
She paused, then changed the subject. “What happened last week to so enrage
you? You’ve been in a black mood since your return from the guild’s meeting.”

Black Drayke turned away, snapped his fingers and a bucket
of ice with a magnum of champagne appeared on a nearby table. He pulled two
slender glasses from the air. The cork popped free of the bottle and sailed
through the air. Laughing, he poured them both a glass.

Pressing a long-stemmed flute into her hands, he scowled.
“The elders have committed a vile and foolish act. I can hardly wait for the
day we overthrow that pack of withered
wakens
.”

MeLora
took a sip from her glass. “Delicious, my darling, as always.” She set the
glass aside and went back to fussing with her hair. “Soon, Black Drayke, patience
or they will destroy you.”

The fragile stem of the glass Black Drayke held snapped,
spilling icy champagne down his bare chest. MeLora gasped and turned toward
him. Slowly, she traced her fingertip down the wet streaks and brought her
finger to her mouth. She saw his nipples tighten and leaned closer, swirling
her tongue around one, then the other, before gently drawing it into her mouth.

His cock stirring to life once more, Black Drayke groaned.
“Don’t. We have no more time to play. I too, must get to Wizard Marcelo and
have him brew me a special potion. I have great plans for the queen.”

MeLora
nodded. “Be careful and watch out for the ancients.”

“They are only powerful when they are all together,” Black
Drayke assured her. “Alone, they are weak, old men. Saul is deaf, and Katch is
so ancient his bones have dried. It would take little to crumble him into dust.
”

MeLora looked thoughtful. “Do not underestimate Katch.
He’s lived a long life. His powers know no boundaries.”

“Talon is furious with the High Wizard. He and the king
snarl at each other like two rabid wolves fighting over a bone. They no longer
bother to keep it secret they detest each other.” He sneered. “When the time is
right, I will head a new guild with my own chosen
wakens.
I’ll see to it
they seek Talon’s execution. I want him destroyed!”

MeLora
clapped her hands. “Brilliant. Now, my love, what have they done to anger you?”

Black
Drayke uttered a few choice curses. “I was not chosen to take the lives of
three witches sentenced for soul removal and there’s an
illumrof
in
Sanctuary. A female. They have given her over to Sage to terminate.”

MeLora
gasped. “An
illumrof?
How in the world did a human cross into our
realm?”

Black Drayke raked fingers through his greasy hair. “I
have no idea. But, believe me, I have every intention of finding her before
that weakling Sage has an opportunity to destroy her.” He snorted. “I want the
pleasure of that myself, as if he’d have the balls to get the job done.”

“What
do you want with an
illumrof
female? Leave her to Sage,” said MeLora.

An icy glitter sparkled in Black Drayke’s obsidian eyes.
“I want to—” he paused abruptly, rubbing a fingertip across one brow, “how can
I put this delicately? I want to boff her brains out and watch her die a slow,
agonizing death when she tries to expel my seed from her womb.”

MeLora
flung her head back and laughed deep in her throat. “Goddesses! But you have
absolutely no scruples, darling. You do bear a grudge against
illumrofs
.”

“I can’t steal their souls, but I gain immense satisfaction
watching the human female die in agony. It is but a small payback for the
burning of our people during the witch trials. Is it not?” He started to pace
as he returned to their discussion. “Talon, Sage, and Stry presented a united
front. The elders crumbled under their demands.” He whipped around to face
MeLora. “Talon refused to do his duty, until
he
decides if the witch
deserves death. Stry and Sage demanded, and were granted, the same damn
rights.”

“They can do this thing? Refuse what the ancients decree?”

Black
Drayke nodded. “Oh, yes. Talon went about it most cleverly.
Pfft.
I
would steal her soul before she knew what happened, but they won’t allow me to
touch her until Talon makes a decision. Talon!
Talon.”
He spat the name
with a vengeance. “Always, since the days he was one of my students, he has
been in my way! He cost me my teaching post at the academy. Did you know that?”

MeLora
shook her head impatiently. “Forget Talon. Who is this witch?”

“I do believe she is called Saylym. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Saylym?
Huh. Indeed, most curious. And what is her mother’s surname?”

“Winslow.”

“Winslow?”
MeLora gasped, clutching her bosom. The
glass of champagne slid from her fingers and crashed to the floor. “You’re
mistaken! It isn’t possible.”

Black
Drayke arched a dark brow, snapped his fingers to clear the broken glass, and
handed her a second flute filled with champagne. “Why do you say that?”

MeLora met his curious gaze and hid the unexpected fright
churning in her stomach. “It can’t be.”

Black
Drayke busied himself with cleansing and dressing by simply flicking his wrist.
He paused from adjusting his black satin cloak over his shoulders. “What is it,
love? You’ve gone white as salt.”

“Are
you such a fool as to not remember the Winslow name?”

“I remember it very well. Long has that branch of Winslows
been destroyed. No need to worry. It’s a common enough name.”

“It
is not!”

“Why
not?” Black Drayke asked calmly.

“If she’s truly a Winslow, then she would be—” she broke
off, pacing the length of the room and back. “Blessed goddesses! We have
problems here. If she’s truly a Winslow,” she repeated, nibbling on her thumb,
“then she’s of royal blood.”

“No!”
Black Drayke grabbed her by the shoulders and
shook her. “You’re wrong. There are no royal-blooded witches left. Everyone
knows that Queen Shy-Ryn’s bloodline died out during the Salem massacre. It’s
recorded history.” He released her, stepping back. “There are no royal-blooded
witches left. Well, except for Helayne and Kali, of course. And no warlock or
waken
is allowed near Kali. Her brothers think to shield her from me, but I will have
my way with her.”

For a moment, MeLora stared at him. An odd expression
flitted across her face. “You know nothing, Black Drayke. There is royalty,
then there is royal-blooded, supreme differences, believe me. This Winslow
witch could even possibly be more than royal-blooded.”

“More?
How could
she be more? Admit it. You’re getting get cold feet. Don’t think to back out on
our plans. I will have the throne.”

She
shrugged.

Black
Drayke leaned back regarding her. “Why do you concern yourself with this
bungler of magic?”

MeLora breathed deep, taking control of her fears. “Three
hundred and fifteen years ago, Elsbeth Winslow gave birth to a silver-haired
baby girl who had great powers. Elsbeth and her three daughters vanished during
the Salem massacre. Humans and witches alike assumed they’d been killed. If
this witch is that daughter, then she’s more powerful than you and I.” She bit
her lip. “I’ll be glad when all this is finished. I can’t believe, after all
these years, just when I have things going the way I want them, a Winslow
appears to cloudy the issue. I won’t have it!”

Black
Drayke took her hands and squeezed them. “You’re concerned about this Winslow
witch and you shouldn’t be.”

She
jerked away from him. “She has to be a daughter, or a descendent of Elsbeth
Winslow. Drat it. I can’t remember their names.”

“Whose names?” Black Drayke asked. “Who is Elsbeth
Winslow? You’re not making sense, love. And from what I’ve learned, this
Winslow witch is a simpleton, a blonde bozo who bungles her magic and who’s an
Impure
.
A royal would never be such a fool. You have no cause for worry.” He scowled.
“Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy watching you.”

She halted in front of him. Drayke pulled her close and
rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

“Some say the Winslow witches were more powerful than even
a warlock,” MeLora declared.

“It’s not possible for a witch to be more powerful than a
warlock.”

A slow smile curved her lips. “Believe what you will, but
no one ever knew what became of Elsbeth Winslow. In the late 1600s, as you
recall, witches everywhere were accused and confirmed guilty of Black Magick.
Some believed Elsbeth chose to go into hiding. But to this day, she’s never
been seen or found. Her body vanished right after her husband put a musket ball
in her heart.”

Black Drayke snickered. “Her own mate shot her through the
heart? That’s priceless. But why are you so concerned? Her soul is most likely
floating in limbo and will never find a path back to her body. Those kinds of
wounds take centuries to heal.”

“It’s been centuries,” she said irritated with his
denseness. “She would have provided some form of safety and security for her
three daughters, but like their mother, after that night, the girls were never
seen again. The entire lot of them simply went missing.”

“Perhaps
they were hanged during the witch hunts.”

“No.” MeLora shook her head. “They were small children. I
don’t recall any children being hanged, but I suppose it’s possible. They were
chaotic times. Elsbeth would have no one left except her daughters. Saylym
Winslow has to be a direct descendant of her.”

“Then where has she been hiding all these years?” Black
Drayke asked.

MeLora
shrugged. “Her mother must have bound her daughters’ powers, hexed the girls
and hid them in the
illumrof
world. If that is true, then Saylym’s
spirit must be severed from the bond that holds her before she acquires her
full powers or we’ll have a big problem. ”

Black
Drayke snorted with disbelief.