Witches' Waves (7 page)

Basic otter good manners. If you were playing with several people, you spaced out the hookups so no one felt like they were getting sloppy seconds, or you set up a threesome.

An image he wished he hadn't come up with because, Trickster's tits and testicles, it was hot. The two blonds, honey and strawberry, male and female, with him sandwiched in the middle. Better yet, the two guys sandwiching Meaghan, because she could use some spoiling. The poor thing didn't even seem to know that sex was supposed to be mutually fun.

He mentally shook himself. He was so not riding that wave of thought, however tempting it was.

“I'm not a player,” he said, wondering as he said it if she'd even know what he meant. “I'm not. I just… Powers, Meaghan, things got crazy really fast. I'm sorry.”

“Then you don't want me to?” She sounded crushed, but not, he suspected, because she'd desperately wanted to go down on him. “I understand. I felt normal for a few minutes while you were touching me, not broken. I'm sorry.”

Kyle knew he should say something, but his voice caught in his throat. All the things he wanted to say would sound lame: that she was beautiful, that he definitely wanted to take her up on her offer but there were a host of reasons this might not be the best time and place, that it was silly for a witch to talk about normal to a part-time otter. All things that might have helped if she were a more ordinary girl—even a more ordinary witch girl—having a lapse of confidence. But this wasn't someone needing reassurance that her butt wasn't too big or her tits weren't too small or that Kyle being bisexual didn't mean he wished she had a dick.

This was a woman who was seriously bruised, someone with a probable history of sexual abuse.

And he was the kind of guy who was likely to hurt her more if he didn't back off.

All he could do was kiss the top of her head, say, “This isn't about me. It's about what you need,” and draw her close.

For a second, she was stiff and frozen in his arms. Then she said in a small voice, “Thank you for worrying. My mouth is safe, though. Nothing strange happens if you use my mouth.”

He had no idea what she meant by that, but all the possibilities that came to mind made him want to dismember the Agency—not just one or two agents, but the whole twisted lot of them, including ones who had no idea Meaghan existed.

The only upside was that the grim images suggested by her words made his cock go limp and his balls try to crawl back up into his body. The lack of arousal made it easier to whisper to Meaghan, “I'm supposed to be getting you relaxed and centered, and I don't think making out is doing the trick. Just snuggling would probably be smarter, because I certainly don't want to let go of you.” He shifted her on his lap so the position was more cuddling and less all over each other. She smelled upset over the luscious fragrance of her arousal. Kyle stroked her hair, wondering what he could say that might help.

Then it came to him. She didn't understand the real world and had probably never developed a concept of privacy, not if she'd spent her life being experimented on and abused. This might be the first time in years she'd been in a house, other than the few minutes at his raft's communal home, so she might not get the distinction between public and private spaces. Even otters had private spaces for sex, unless they wanted to signal that others were welcome to join. “I'd love to play more with you, but we got carried away in a bad place. It's not polite to have sex in someone else's living room. Anyone could walk in here. Witches are more relaxed about sex than normies are, but they'd still get flustered if they walked in on us fooling around.”

She mustered a smile. “Declan in particular.”

“Declan in particular. There's something going on between us…we just haven't figured out what yet.”

“Oral sex, for one thing.” Meaghan's voice sounded calmer now, and she smiled slightly as she added, “Even I can figure
that
out.”

Kyle couldn't help laughing. “Yes, that. We aren't exactly a couple but…” He paused, not sure how to explain this.

“But you'd like to become one, and that won't happen if he catches you with someone else. Perhaps if you talked about it first, it would be all right, but I imagine no one likes that kind of surprise.”

Kyle sputtered. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear—though it might be true. Deck, like him, was bi and open to experimenting. And Meaghan was a seer, so who knew what she might pick up in passing?

“Sometimes it works in novels. I don't know about the real world.” She shrugged. “I listened to a lot of audiobooks in the hospital.” It made sense she'd learned much of what she knew of life via fiction. That explained some of her combination of innocence and knowingness. “I wondered when you kissed me if you were doing something that would upset Deck, but they say duals don't lie or cheat.”

“But we can make mistakes. I don't mean kissing you was a mistake,” he added quickly. “Kissing you was great. But going farther would have been one. I'm not sure if Deck and I are in a relationship or just fooling around once in a while. And your body seemed to know what it wanted, but the rest of you should take some time to think. You've been through a lot the past few days.”

“Time,” Meaghan sighed. Then she set her face against his shoulder and whispered into it, almost inaudibly. “I thought I wanted…I did want…but now I'm just tired. Exhausted. I need quiet now, please.”

“It's all right. You curl up and I'll take care of you,” he said and was surprised to realize he completely meant it. She made him feel dominant, but not just because she was petite and pretty and eminently fuckable. Dominance could also involve wanting to protect and nurture. Admittedly, it was the first time he'd ever experienced that side of it, but there had to be a reason he felt that way now, just like there was a reason he responded to Deck on a deeper level than he did to other dominant types. There were a host of reasons he couldn't hold Meaghan down, bite her neck and fuck her senseless, even if both his body and hers thought it was a great idea. But he could do his best to take care of her.

Kyle held her and stroked her hair. At first she was tense and he thought she might be about to cry, but then she relaxed and her breathing changed. She'd fallen asleep curled up in his lap.

Sleep was good, Kyle reasoned. She hadn't sustained any physical damage from her ordeal in the ocean, but she must be mentally and emotionally drained. So he stayed as still as an otter could, holding her soft, slender body against him, and tried not to think too much about anything that was going on.

Deck. Her. Magic. The Agency.

He'd wanted to live a life that mattered, but suddenly everything seemed to matter way too much. He made a mental note to tell Deck that he understood Deck's deal, the shying away from commitment and seriousness, better now.

Which might make a difference to the two of them somewhere down the line—if the Agency didn't hand them all their asses.

Chapter Eight

Meaghan awoke, not quite sure where she was but curiously fine with the confusion. The last thing she remembered, she'd been curled up in Kyle's lap in the living room. Now she was near the rush of ocean. Kyle was still holding her, but they were lying down on what she thought was soft grass, or maybe herbs of some kind, and they were no longer alone. “What…”

“I hope you don't mind, dear,” a familiar, accented voice said—Roslyn. “You were sleeping so nicely I laid a wee charm on you so you could continue your nap while we set up for the ritual. Kyle carried you out. Would you like him to stay with you? We've cast the circle, but we can open up long enough for him to step outside.”

Meaghan hesitated. She wanted him to stay. Despite the shared awkwardness of their almost sex, Kyle's body felt good next to hers; his strong arms and the sense of something sleek and oceanic under his human-seeming body were comforting. But she had no idea what was about to happen in this ritual. It hadn't occurred to her until now that she could even ask. “I'm here as long as you want me to be,” Kyle whispered.

A male voice—she hadn't heard Deck talk a lot, but that laid-back tone definitely belonged to him—added, “It's a public service to keep Kyle here. Do you have any idea how much trouble an unattended otter can cause?” He didn't sound serious. Meaghan hadn't heard a lot of teasing in her life, but that sounded like an affectionate poke rather than an insult. Deck's voice moved over her skin, cool and caressing as water, but with an underlying heat that must be intended for Kyle.

She clenched in Kyle's arms, remembering the visions or dreams of Deck and Kyle making love to her.

“I don't know,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady over the confusion in her head and the reawakened need in her body. “What's going to happen? I guess you know it'll help me in the long run or you wouldn't do it, but will it be safe for Kyle if there's a lot of magic flying around?” It hadn't seemed important to ask for her own sake, but she wanted to know for his.

Roslyn's light brogue seemed to stroke Meaghan's hair. “I'm afraid you'll feel like the top of your head is blowing off while we remove those lingering spells. Having your powers reawakened is bound to be alarming, but it's far worse to keep them locked as they have been. Kyle won't feel a thing, though.”

“Wouldn't matter if I did,” Kyle said, holding her closer. “Not if the ladies think I can help.”

“Duals are great to have around when you're dealing with sorcery.” Elissa's voice was soft and husky, sexy, even to Meaghan. Her presence was fresh and sharp, but at the same time spicy. “Even though we're removing a latent spell, sorcerous magic is strange, stubborn stuff. If it lingers when the caster's dead, it's even more stubborn. We'll free you of the spell safely—” a light touch on her shoulder, which Meaghan found reassuring, though it tickled her spirit, “—but things may get weird. Kyle won't feel the magical echoes the way we do, and he'll help you stay grounded.”

A deep, masculine voice boomed from over Elissa's shoulder, “Which is why I'm here too, to help Elissa. Rafe's keeping the baby calm while this is going on. Jocelyn's a seer of some kind too, so I'm sure you understand she picks up way too much.” Jude's voice was unmistakable, with that deep, rumbling edge from his lion side, a tone that could shift, she sensed, into a roar or a purr with equal ease. He must be very tall—his voice came from higher up than anyone else's. “Even though he's dead, I don't trust Shaw not to try to fuck with you, or the rest of us, one last time. And I'm sure our last sorcerer enemy is involved in this somehow too.”

Meaghan shuddered at the sound of Shaw's name, or maybe it was at the vehemence in Jude's voice. Acid heat prickled behind her eyes. Her entire body tightened painfully. Kyle murmured something wordless and kissed the top of her head.

The tightness relaxed.

She swore she felt someone smiling at her. At them. “Did you see that, guys? Her aura darkened for a second or two, but it cleared as soon as Kyle kissed her.” The voice was Deck's, and to Meaghan's relief, it sounded awed rather than upset.

“I
knew
he'd be good at this,” Roslyn said. “Now let's get this started. Elissa's baby will need nursing soon, and I have patients to see.”

“Hearth, home, heart,” all the witches chanted three times. The first time was ragged, but by the third repetition, the voices wove together, creating something larger than the sum of its parts. Meaghan didn't recognize all the voices; it seemed a lot of people had gathered to help her.

The chant died down, leaving Meaghan vibrating in a pleasant way and ready to swear the whole world was vibrating as well. Roslyn intoned a few sentences in a language that wasn't English. Meaghan heard music played on unfamiliar instruments, light and lyrical, but edged with power. One might have been a harp, but Meaghan wasn't sure. Maybe she was confused by the open space around them, the unfamiliar acoustics of outdoors, but she'd swear the music rose up from the ground. Well-being washed over her, a sense of health and security that felt like Garrett's minor healing magic multiplied about a thousand times.

Jan sang in the foreign language rather than simply speaking. As she did, the music grew louder and Meaghan's sense of well-being multiplied. With Jan's magic came a sharp, antiseptic herbal smell, a sense of brusque setting things to rights.

Deck was chanting now. He sounded uncertain, not like the confident women, but something about his voice soothed the alarm caused by that strange music, soothed the fear Meaghan couldn't entirely suppress even though she knew the Donovans were trying to help her. Deck's voice was deeper than Kyle's, though not Jude's basso rumble, and it had a familiar musical rhythm. She realized he was matching the cadences of his voice to the sound of the ocean.

Then she realized her breath and Kyle's also matched the rhythm of the waves.

They'd said she had an affinity to water, and Kyle was a creature of the ocean. Assuming Deck was using his water magic, it made sense it would affect both her and Kyle.

She wondered if it was supposed to affect her on the level she was feeling, more intimate than her entire past experience, except for Kyle's kisses and those few moments after yielding herself to the ocean's power before she'd drifted into unconsciousness. She stirred, restless, aroused, yet content. Kyle was hard against her, reacting either to the magic or to her arousal. Maybe both.

The sound of the sea grew louder as Deck chanted. The moist Oregon air felt even damper, but in a good way. Fecund, not rainy.

When Elissa incanted, Meaghan swore the bed of herbs she lay on was actually growing underneath her in response to Elissa's voice. The air turned warmer. It was technically summer, late June, but for the first time it felt almost hot instead of cool and damp.

All the witches were chanting together. She felt the magic weaving, braiding. She thought that if she could see, an elaborate, multicolored knotwork would actually be visible. The air shivered with power. Meaghan's head swam, but it wasn't unpleasant.

The weaving voices dropped in volume, but continued as a buzzing background. Meaghan heard the soft brush of someone stepping closer. From the spicy heat, it was Elissa. “We have gathered,” Elissa said, “to cast out what does not belong, what lingers against nature in this world. Shaw, you are dead. Chenier, the last vestiges of you have left this world and your fae rider is banished. Your magics have no power here. Meaghan is free from your influence. Begone.”

Meaghan's head twinged and her gut twisted.

Panic pressed down on her, heavy and leaden. She could scarcely breathe. Memories of Shaw swirled in her head, memories that simultaneously repulsed and warmed her.

Her thoughts didn't make sense. Was this the latent spell fighting back? Elissa had helped kill Shaw, Elissa and Jude and the other dual, Rafe, the dual who buzzed with magic even though duals weren't supposed to have magic. They were all trying to help her, and she knew Shaw had done terrible things, and it was whispered he'd been possessed. But knowing they'd killed him made it hard to trust fully, hard to open to these people.

She still dreamed of Shaw. Still dreamed of his hard, harsh hands on her body, his cock in her. Still dreamed of the way he'd hold her when she'd go into seizures after she came. He'd been using her. She knew that. But he'd also been one of the few people who'd touched her for anything other than medical purposes. One of the few who seemed to care for her. And these people, these witches, had killed him. However kind they seemed, they'd killed Shaw. Now they wanted to remove her last link to him.

But she wanted it gone. She knew she did. She'd asked for their help.

Something exploded in her head. Her usual darkness tinged with the blood hue that was the only color in her visions and nightmares, the only color in her life. Pain stabbed near her heart. Maybe they were actually cutting the magic out. They'd said the ritual wouldn't harm her, but maybe they'd realized the only way to free her from the Agency's influence was to kill her too.

That would have been all right a few days ago. But now she'd tasted freedom. Tasted kisses from someone who wasn't using her. She'd tasted real life, life away from the Agency, and she wasn't going to lose it. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to die. She struggled against Kyle's arms, which had felt like a shelter only seconds before, but now felt like a prison. “No!” she screamed.

But the scream sounded alien. Sounded furious rather than frightened, though mostly what she was experiencing now was panic. Sounded too deep and harsh to come from her vocal cords.

She wasn't sure she'd opened her mouth.

This wasn't right.

She covered her mouth and clenched her teeth, so when a scream of “Fuck no!” burst forth, she knew it wasn't from her mouth. It came from her skull and her gut. Like Jude had feared, Shaw was dead, but he was fighting back.

Kyle gripped her harder. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let the magic work.”

“What he said,” Jude rumbled as his big hand came to rest on her head. “The sorcery's trying to confuse you. Been there, done that.”

She took a deep breath, tried to listen, tried to get back to how good the witches' magic had made her feel, how healthy and content and, well, horny. The pain in her chest eased up.

And she knew, unambiguously, that being free from the last vestiges of Shaw was a good thing.

The pressure inside her skull was getting worse, though. Maybe she should have mentioned the neurological disorder, she thought blearily. Maybe the warring magics were aggravating it. It would be ironic to get free from Shaw and then die. But at least she'd die her own person, not a lab experiment, not a weapon.

Something burst like a bubble, with a soft pop. The pain in her head stopped, and she could breathe freely.

The music waxed louder, and so did the surf, going from a soft shushing to a roar and a crash. The moist air coalesced into warm, drenching rain. The surf grew even louder, closer.

Water closed over Meaghan's head, filling her lungs.