Something Witchy This Way Comes: A Jolie Wilkins Novel (4 page)

He glanced over at me quickly. “He must be punished for his transgressions, Jolie. What he did cannot be glossed over.” He was silent for a few seconds. “I believe he should be banished as an example that those who transgress against the Queen will not get away with it.”

“Banished?” I said, even though I realized I was beginning to sound like Rand’s echo. “The Lurkers
are growing more powerful. Who knows what could happen to him if he’s banished?”

“That isn’t your problem or mine.” Rand’s hold on the steering wheel tightened. “He has been alive for centuries. He is a master at surviving. I’ve no doubt that he’ll figure it out.”

There was no point in discussing this any further. Rand was obstinate and I couldn’t imagine his point of view changing. And I supposed he had good reason, considering Sinjin had attempted to steal me away from him.

When we pulled up to Pelham Manor, I was all too eager to get out of the car, even though the English night was frigid, as I expected. I glanced up at the old stone edifice and felt my heart sing. I felt at home—more so than I’d ever felt at Kinloch Kirk. I’d spent so much time here and had learned so much. Yes, it was home.

Rand unlocked the front door and opened it for me, smiling down at me warmly as he took my bag and locked the door behind us. As soon as we walked over the threshold, the lights came on, a fire roared from the fireplace, and music filtered into the room. This piece I knew well—Ravel’s “Bolero.” It was the same as it always was—almost like Pelham Manor welcoming us home.

“I missed this place a lot,” I said with a sigh as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Rand reached for my hand and started up the stairs with me in tow. When we reached his bedroom, he lifted me up bride-style and carried me over the threshold.

“What’s this?” I asked with a laugh.

“We’re bonded now,” he answered with a large grin. “So this is our wedding night.”

I laughed and allowed him to place me on the bed while I looked around the room. He lit a fire in the enormous fireplace with no more than a glance, the orange flames flickering against the rich mahogany wood paneling that matched his oversized furniture. The hunter green of the bed linens and curtains gave the whole place a deeply masculine feel. I watched Rand kick off his shoes, and moments later he offered me a glass of champagne, which he conjured from thin air.

“To you, Jolie,” he said, holding his fluted glass high.

“No, to us,” I corrected him, and smiled up at him as we both took a sip. I glanced at the bubbling liquid in the glass and laughed. “Not bad. You could give Cook’s a run for their money.”

He chuckled, even though he probably wasn’t familiar with the cheap champagne. But then his smile fell and he regarded me seriously. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been, Jolie. Knowing that you have been the only woman for me—both in the past and the present—is a gift.”

He was referring to the first time that we’d bonded, back in 1878. When I returned to the present, my absence nearly killed Rand. Thank God, Mathilda had nursed him back to health, and in the process wiped his memory clean of me. He’d continued on with his life, all the while imagining that his bond mate was dead. He’d only recently figured out that I had been his bond mate all along. The weird part was
that our bond hadn’t survived my return to the present time from 1878, but our new bond—formed when we had sex after Rand time-traveled to rescue me—had survived Rand’s return to the present day.

“It seems the whole bonding thing only works when one of us travels to the past,” I said with a smile.

He was quiet for a few seconds and then grinned in return. “Perhaps only time travel can reverse a broken bond.” Then he shrugged as if he wasn’t sure what the rules were. Neither of us were.

I nodded and handed him my glass, which he placed on the side table, setting his just beside it. “Rand, I love you and I’ve always loved you,” I said. After my confession, I looped my arms around his neck and got up on my knees to kiss him.

He met my lips immediately, fire burning in his kiss. A similar burning had started deep within my belly and was now almost painful. Rand pulled off his V-necked navy sweater, taking his undershirt off with it. When my eyes beheld his bare chest, complete with its rambling valleys and hills of muscle, I could only lick my lips in preparation for what was to come. My eyes fastened on the trail of light brown hair that started at his navel and disappeared beneath his waistband.

He lowered himself on top of me, probing his tongue into my mouth, and I eagerly accepted it, meeting it with my own. I moaned underneath him, wrapping my arms and legs around him, wanting nothing more than to feel as close to him as I possibly could. Then something occurred to me. This was the first time we would have sex as a bonded pair. I wasn’t
sure what that meant or how it might make things different, but I was definitely up for finding out.

His hands migrated down my sides, bunching my shirt up past my waist as he nimbly pulled it over my head. He reached around and unclasped my bra, pulling it down my arms slowly, as if he wanted nothing more than to drive me insane with his patient teasing.

“Your pants,” I whispered, and was pleased when he immediately unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans down the swells of his thighs rather than teasing me. His erection strained behind the cotton of his boxer shorts.

“And yours,” he whispered, not waiting for me to respond. Instead, he unzipped my jeans and pulled them down my thighs, his eyes settling on the white lace panties that peeked out between the junction of my legs. His fingers traced my upper leg back and forth until he reached the soft lace. At the feel of his fingers over my panties, I arched up, gasping my pleasure.

“Rand,” I whispered. “I need you.”

He made a throaty sound and raised up, bringing his face to my neck as he kissed his way down, plying each of my breasts with his large hands. I felt his tongue on my left breast and closed my eyes, arching my back. He sucked and teethed at my nipple while I moaned beneath him, allowing the fire of passion to ignite within me. He gripped my panties, his finger lightly brushing up against the nub between my legs, and I thought I’d shoot right off the bed. He laughed gently and pulled my panties down my legs until I was entirely naked.

“I love you, Jolie,” he whispered as he gazed down at me.

He spread my legs wide, settling himself between them as the head of his erection perched at my opening. My breath caught as he drove himself into me. Gasping at the feel of it, I wrapped my legs around him and he pushed harder into me.

“I love you,” I managed between moans. Rand didn’t respond, but he leaned down and kissed me again. Our tongues mated as he pushed himself harder and deeper into me. All of a sudden it was like he’d unleashed a river inside of me, because I could feel what he was feeling as he thrust into me and pulled out again. “I can—” I started.

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, I can feel you too.”

I was quiet as I focused on the feelings—finding it difficult to distinguish between his emotions and mine. One moment I could feel him pushing within me, and the next I could feel soft, slick, tight wetness, which had to be me experiencing myself through Rand’s eyes.

“This is amazing,” I said as I opened my eyes and watched him. “I can feel myself through you.”

“I’ve never—” he started and closed his eyes as he pushed inside me again. Once he’d apparently regained control of himself, he opened them again and gazed down at me. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

I could feel myself growing wetter, hotter. I was going to come soon, I knew it. “I’m nearly there, Rand.”

He said nothing but nodded, encouraging me as he clenched his teeth, revealing that he too had to be close.

I arched up against him, throwing my head back,
and gasped as bliss rained through me. At the same moment, he grabbed hold of my waist and forced himself in and out of me, moaning deeply. I could feel his intense release only seconds later. He collapsed against my chest, panting.

“Holy crap,” I said with a smile. “I don’t smoke but, damn, I sure feel like I could use a cigarette right about now.”

The next morning, Rand and I returned to Kinloch Kirk, knowing there was much to do and not much time to do it in. There was the whole problem of determining the right punishment for Sinjin and Mercedes. Then the threat of the Lurkers, and add to that the problem known as “What in the hell am I going to do about Bella?” (who was still my captive), and my life was a mess and a half.

But before I started thinking about any of those unfortunate topics, I was going to talk to my best friend, Christa. She and I had been through a lot. We’d grown up in Spokane, Washington, together, had known each other nearly all our lives. Christa had moved with me from Spokane to Los Angeles, acting as my assistant when I owned my own tarot card–reading store. Once Rand ventured into my life and I moved to England, Christa stuck right alongside me. She was like my shadow and always had been. Well, until recently.

Of late, Christa had gotten engaged to her werewolf boyfriend, John, and moved out of Rand’s home, Pelham Manor. She was still serving as Rand’s assistant,
but she’d chosen to live with John. After the whole time-traveling deal, I felt the intense need to reconnect with her. Of course, as far as she was concerned, it had never happened (seeing as how she wasn’t in the loop). So technically the last time we’d connected was only a few days ago. But still, I missed her.

When we talked on the phone, it was like no time had gone by at all. She was super excited about her wedding and anxious to share all the details of when, where, why, and how. And I was excited for her, although there was also a side of me that was so overwhelmed with my royal duties that it was difficult to concentrate on something as trivial as centerpiece colors or whether her dress should be long or short. But I tried. Really, I did.

“My Queen?” It was Mercedes knocking on my door. I glanced up from my bed and motioned for her to enter. As she walked into the room, I said goodbye to Christa, making plans to meet her for dinner one night that week. Clicking off the phone, I stood up and turned to face the prophetess.

“What’s up?”

“Your representatives have come, as you requested. They are assembled in the library.”

I nodded and gave her a quick smile, signifying that she could leave. She closed the door behind her as I thought about the evening that faced me—and most particularly, figuring out whether to punish Sinjin and Mercedes. I was still torn regarding the whole subject because I couldn’t imagine Mercedes would stand for it; and if she didn’t, how fair could it be to punish Sinjin? Well, that was the beauty of having a
panel of representatives—I didn’t have to make the decision myself. God knows I was too personally invested to be impartial.

I took a deep breath, and figuring I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, strode to the door. I made my way down the hallway, feeling like I might pass out because my heart was beating so quickly. At moments like this, I detested being the ruler of the Underworld.

I paused outside the library door and without further ado pushed it open. As soon as I entered the room, everyone stood up and bowed. Everyone included Rand; Mathilda; the King of the Fae, Odran; Trent (a werewolf and my ex-boyfriend—also the representative of the werewolves; Varick—to my knowledge, the oldest vampire, and Sinjin’s boss (that is, before I emancipated Sinjin, allowing him to be his own Master Vampire); and, of course, Mercedes.

“You may be seated,” I said impatiently, finding all this fussy courtliness irritating. I mean, it wasn’t like we were living in King Henry VIII’s court—we were in the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. It wasn’t necessary for everyone to kowtow to me.

I watched as everyone in the room took their seats—most of them were sitting around the fireplace, which offered a radiant fire. Rand remained standing, as he always did. It seemed he did his best negotiating on foot. But in actuality, he just needed the floor so he could pace back and forth and run his hands through his hair in the usual exasperated Rand form.

“Where is Sinjin?” I asked, realizing he was the only one unaccounted for.

“We didn’t think it proper for him to be here,” Rand answered.

“Because we’re deciding his punishment?” I finished, and Rand merely nodded his assent. He dropped his eyes to the ground as he exhaled. I felt something rebel within me.

Mercedes’ attendance, I guess, answered the question of her own unlikely punishment. Since Sinjin hadn’t been invited and Mercedes had orchestrated the whole meeting, chances were, her head wasn’t on the chopping block. And, no, that didn’t seem just to me at all.

“Let’s begin discussing the vampire,” Mercedes started.

“So why aren’t you being tried as well?” I asked her with a shrug. “I mean, it was your decision to send Sinjin back, wasn’t it?”

Mercedes’ jaw was tight. “I am the prophetess. I cannot be punished.”

I felt something in me burst and anger flooded me. “Aren’t you one of my subjects?”

“I am your advisor,” Mercedes corrected as she glanced around the room in obvious trepidation, clearly uncomfortable that we had an audience.