Timeless Witch (4 page)

It was not long before he changed my few painful groans into desperate moans of deep desire. His long, strong fingers dragged their way from my hip to my thigh, touching, exploring. He wrapped one large hand around one of my wrists and gave an exploratory squeeze.

I winced and whimpered and he released me immediately. He summed up the power and size of his chest compared to mine, noting the differences of our bodies. With interest he roamed his hands over my breasts, kneading and gently squeezing.

“Human females are so soft, so fragile,” he panted. His body was rubbing harder against me. I could feel his need pressed against me, already hardened with want and waiting.

“We taste good too,” I added playfully.

Carefully I pushed his head lower, seeking his mouth to explore elsewhere and ready me. Although he had been my lover for centuries, this human host was, after all, a virgin.

He trailed his lips down a searing path to my belly, where he explored my navel. I pushed him lower. His fingers loosely pulled against the hairs on my mound with interest. He played with a springy lock of midnight black hair and I couldn’t help but smile at his innocent wonderment. How fulfilling it was for the both of us each time we joined after his long sleep; it was his first mating, and sometimes mine. We discovered one another anew after so long.

“It is so interesting how humans have skin and a little fur spattered about various places on their bodies. Why are some parts covered and yet other parts left bare? It makes no sense really, and somewhat odd; you should have either one or the other. Does that make you man or beast?” he said in a confused, pondering way.

“Some men are indeed beasts,” I replied.

His licentious play was driving me to the brink of insanity. I pushed him lower. His eyes lifted to me when at last I stopped to settle him between my open thighs. He lifted a cocky brow and his tongue leisurely licked at my folds. After one taste, he needed no more encouragement. He plundered everywhere until I writhed beneath him helplessly.

“Randar,” I whimpered.

“An odd name for a whale,” he replied through licks and teasing suckles.

“It’s a fine name for a whale, and for a Kodiak bear, and for an eagle, and for a...” I was cut short on a gasp as he invaded me deeply.

“Human females also talk too much,” he informed me, coming up for air.

“Spoken like a true male,” I countered.

He felt so wonderful as he replaced his mouth with delving fingers. His large body strolled back up mine own, tasting everywhere. I moaned, feeling the penetrating heat make my blood boil with want.

“Mmmm, human females taste divine,” he said as he gently nibbled on my nipple, laving, grazing his teeth back and forth over the taut pebble. He cupped my round globe as though weighing it. He squeezed and kneaded my flesh. I arched my back, offering him more. I slid my leg up the length of his hard-as-steel powerful thigh.

“It gets better, my darling,” I promised.

I reached for his cock; it was hard and long, and huge, just like him. I stroked it between my hands. Up and down I teased sensuously, feeling him harden further. He groaned deeply in the back of his throat. His eyes widened suddenly in shocked surprise and his spontaneous reaction was to clutch me tightly,
too tightly
. His body pinned me to the bed with his overzealousness; I felt imprisoned.

“Randar, I can’t breathe.” I gasped, feeling some panic.

“Where does this, my throbbing organ, go into a human female?” he demanded. His voice was vicious, and for a brief moment I felt real fear. I was stunned with surprise; I had never once feared him.

I then remembered his animal lust might get the better of him, for man and beast were still as one. Never before had I tamed a being so incredibly powerful. This witch child of ours would be strong if I proved victorious. I calmed my thundering heart and reminded myself this was my Randar, my soul mate, my beloved.

“Go gently, Randar. Human females can be very fragile and become injured if they are taken with too much force, especially with their first mating,” I chided him, stroking his back to calm him. He growled out in a tone that I guessed was a whale’s frustration and annoyance, an interesting sound to be certain. He settled himself admirably. His body remained taut, but he softened his grip and once more he stroked instead of squeezed.

“Please, where?” He sounded so tormented I took pity on him.

I spread my legs wide and guided him to my opening, thinking my cautious chiding would urge gentleness from him. Big misunderstanding. Eagerly he thrust himself inside me, burying his large length deeply, and I screamed in pain. Never before had he taken me like this. His actions were so primitive.

I gasped for air and whimpered his name. He mumbled an apology, removed himself and thrust again. I arched to meet his thrusts, swiveling my hips so as not to take the brunt of his hard power against my slight body. My eyes widened. Ye gods, he was as big as a...
whale.

His empowered dominance radiated through him, sizzling against my skin. It occurred to me he wasn’t being brutish; his pent up sexual, animal lust made him brutal. I spoke to him, as one would to a skittish stallion, as he rode me, until finally he realized I wasn’t going anywhere.

I remained trapped beneath him and his large body. I could not just swim away, and he would be allowed to finish at his leisure. His thrusting turned to gliding. He lifted his muscled body from mine, enabling me to breathe. His eyes were closed in rapture. He was loving me. This is what I wanted; this was my loving, caring Randar.

“You feel so perfect.” He groaned.

He cupped my bottom. I suckled at his broad shoulder, tasting the lingering salt water mixing with his sweat. I knew instinctively not to nip at him, in case he were to return the favor and take a chunk out of me. I in no way caused any threatening gesture toward my predator lover. I remained docile, though eager.

“Randar,” I whimpered, unable to help myself. My legs locked about his waist.

He engulfed me, and soon I was falling, spinning on a tailwind of desire. The air turned colder, surrounding every inch of me. My hair flowed about my body, and the mattress beneath us vanished.

I felt surrounded in water and panicked for a moment, as I was unable to breathe. My breath escaped through my nose and mouth, creating a halo of bubbles. My world seemed soundless. But then I could hear his calming words within my mind as he breathed under the water’s surface for me.

“You are in my domain; I will protect you.”

How?

“Don’t be afraid.”

Still in human form, we mated beneath the sea. I clutched at his shoulders, a drifter in need of a raft. He held me powerfully to his chest. His breath once more glided down my throat, easing my fears. I realized the gods must have done this; this was their way of protecting us both, as Alistair would be aware of our mating.

Randar was magnificent in his element; human though he was, a cunning predator he remained. I was well protected. It was beautiful, the most amazing mating of our ten thousand years.

A curious hammerhead shark drew near, but Randar’s furious, unintelligible command had it retreating, as though startled into obedience. A large fish with sharp teeth passed close by, but a massive killer whale destroyed it by snapping it in half.

I could see the other orcas swimming from a distance, within the murky water my eyes had yet to adjust to. There must have been thirty of the beasts circling us. We were protected by the pod. Randar and I had been returned to the sea, something we had not done last time. I was astounded.

Our bodies rolled together, floating, swimming. Dancing under the water, with bubbles for our orchestra, a whale song as our music. I had never felt such beautiful passion, such loving gentleness. He was at home here. In this place, he could love me without fear.

He smiled into my eyes and nodded his head in a direction. I was not one to scare easily, but I was awed and overwhelmed when I saw his massive whale body not more than ten feet from us, slumbering. I looked imploringly into his face and Randar moved us closer. He laid me over the magnificent beast. With Randar’s power over top of me, and his whale host beneath, cushioning us in safety, I was overwhelmed.

Randar pumped into me wildly. I tossed my head from side to side, needing air. I looked at him, terrified I would drown, but he slowed his motion and cupped my chin, encouraging me to be brave and trust him, until my struggles ceased. I could hold my breath no longer.

Randar came while I took my first gasp of salt water. I felt the ocean soon mix with his warm seed, as water flowed down my throat and semen up through my insides, to meet within my uterus. I felt myself conceive on this very spot, the ocean floor, with my whale lover above and beneath me. My eyes grew heavy, my body grew limp. My last image was of my beautiful Randar lifting me, smiling happily, cuddling me close. My face was buried against his throat. I slipped away into darkness.

I bolted awake, gasping in great amounts of air into my aching lungs, until I vomited salt water upon my bedroom floor. I was completely drenched, as were the sheets and pillows. But I was alive. My hand went to my belly and I sobbed as I heard the first stirrings of my beautiful babe. One word was all it took. The thought lazily roamed up my torso to invade my thoughts, the slightest of the sweetest voice.

“Mother.”

The word was the most beautiful of sounds. My gift had been returned to me. My water witch, my soon to be fifth-born, was nestled snugly within my womb, awaiting her father. This time she would not be disappointed. Exhausted, I drifted into slumber, not bothering to change the bedding. It would seem the babe enjoyed the moisture of the sheets; for now, I was more than happy to be indulgent.

All Hallows’ Eve. There is neither good nor evil in the air, only children’s giggles and laughter as they traverse from home to home collecting their bounty. The art of begging has come a long way since the petitioning of “soul cakes” in return for praying for the dead. And if I must admit, I prefer the charming new styles of jack-o-lantern pumpkins and their humorous and scary faces, to those of smelly, carved tortured-looking turnip. What a silly way to attempt to ward off evil spirits.
As if.
It was no more helpful than I imagine garlic would be with a vampire.

I slip soundlessly through the streets. Streets filling with chattering ghouls and goblins, adorable princesses and zombies and one walking aluminum foil box with a crooked antenna—an ancient TV perhaps? At least the costumes are more innovative than the traditional Frankenstein and mummies.

I can’t help but smile in delight when I see a tiny witch of perhaps six Earth years, decked out in a long black cape and black pointed hat and matching shoes. She is carrying a quaint homemade broom, as though to ride on it, and then jabs at her older brother, who swats at her while she runs away, laughing. I chuckle with a memory: the only use I ever had for a flying broom was to send one sailing after a persistent suitor in the seventeenth century.

My spine suddenly crawls. I turn slowly, filled with apprehension, and I see a widely-smiling man standing on the street corner, half hidden in the semi-darkness of a fluttering street lamp. He is dressed all in solemn black, except for a teasing hint of cheeky yellow socks. Strange, what an odd fashion statement, but then again, it is Halloween. He pointedly turns to stare at me; our eyes lock. His eyes are a black, bottomless, empty.

I know who he is; we have met many times.
The Grim Reaper.
I shudder. Is he here for me or Alistair? He grins a toothy white grin and gives me a nod. Though his face is classically handsome, his stance nonthreatening, and his eyes are without malice, I feel apprehensive. He will not interfere in the outcome of my battle. What would happen would happen.

His look shifts in a gesture and I see his gaze center on a child of perhaps nine or ten. I feel myself frowning. The small being wears a hideous mask and carries a sickle. The child’s body looks healthy enough as he skips along, a treat bag in one hand, the sickle in the other. I am wary. The taker of souls would only appear to me for two reasons: either he was there for me or because of me. Why show me the child?

The child turns suddenly and I realize the hideous mask he wears is his actual face. A warning to beware. He mouths the word,
“contrition”,
and disappears. So too does the Grim Reaper.

My body is tingling with my racing thoughts. My belly rolls and I place a tender hand over the newest joy of my life. A small whimper lifts to fill my ears and I hush the babe gently. She is strong, this water witch we have created. Normally I am unable to hear my children’s feelings until well into my second trimester.

Our mating had been powerful, meaningful. It had me wondering if my next four daughters would be conceived in the same fashion. For you see, if I am to survive this night and banish my greatest foe, Randar and I will thereafter carry on to empower the world, gifting them with four more protectors, as is my line’s fate. Randar and I will be able to pick the time of our choosing when our obligation has been fulfilled to the gods. We will exist in harmony forever, roaming the expansive universe.

“Be still, my darling, all will be well, child,” I croon to her. She settles quickly, for one so small tires easily and it is my dearest hope she will sleep through what is about to transpire, for I need my wits about me.

I take heed of the warning as I slip further into the nothingness of the eve. The gods have given me a sign. Evil is once again ready to face death with vengeance. It has scoffed on all that should be. I must call upon whatever powers I am able to aid in my quest. As I walk slowly to my destination, I remember old folklore. I remember all reasons mortals have given for the existence of All Hallows’ Eve. The night before All Saints’ Day. The sun god, celebrating with fires. Feasting, and of course who could forget Samhain? The gatherer of souls.

But I know better. The one rightful God, the sacred protector, the Keeper of Halloween, must have an offering of words to tame the knowledge of what was about to occur. All were welcome to walk the earth on this night without fear of retribution. In any form, good or evil, foolish or wise. But on this night one was not welcome; someone would die. It interfered in the laws of powerful magic. It was not I who chose to befoul this sacred night. It was my nemesis who would hold nothing hallowed.