Something About Witches

He took her straight to the bed, laying her down and putting himself on top of her, holding her there with his far greater weight, size and strength.



She thought about blasting him with electricity, but of course she might electrocute herself as well, and she’d just done her hair. She didn’t care to have it teased up like a hedge by static. She told herself that as he moved his mouth, went to work on her throat, turning her world fuzzy on the edges as he pulled open her shirt with an impressive, breath-stealing jerk. He took possession of her breasts, cupping their weight, thumbs sliding over the nipples under her thin bra as he went down under the waistband of the skirt she’d pulled on, found her mound and slid over it. The moment he sealed the heat of his palm over her clit, she nearly came off the bed, arching into him and grabbing his biceps. “Derek.”



“Got your attention?” he asked.



She was set to be mad at him for overwhelming her with testosterone, a way that proved nothing, but then she met his gaze. She saw anger there, frustration, and something else. Something she didn’t expect. Raw need.



“Derek.” She said it softer this time, but the question stuck in her throat. It was fine, because he voiced it anyway.



“Why is it so hard for you to realize I need someone, too? And you’re that person, Ruby. The only one. For the rest of your life, that’s going to come first to me. And when I have to say good-bye to you, because that’s the kind of bitch mortality can be, every time I save the world after that, it will be so people like you and me have a chance to love one another. Have a life together. And I’ll watch after every generation that comes from the kids we make. You’ll never have to worry about anything happening to them, because I’m going to be there, watching their backs.”



She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, so she went for something else. “Seven Wonders? Really?”



“Really.”



“Wow. You really were around to compare knights to cowboys.”



“Cowboys had more comfortable clothing. But, yeah.” He framed her face, his urgency conveyed through the touch. “Ruby. Say yes. Take a chance on me, on us, on us being way more than we’ve been. No more half measures. Full commitment. Biblical stuff. Whither thou goest…. I go.”



“You know, people always think of that in a romantic way, and Ruth actually said it to her mother-in-law. It was a mother-daughter bonding thing.”



“I will thrash you within an inch of your life.”



She smiled up at him. “You aren’t supposed to beat your wife.”



“Unless she enjoys it. Ruby, you’re killing me here.”



She sobered. “Would you really want that, Derek? Me going with you?”



“Would you want it?”



“I need you to answer me first.”



His jaw flexed. “Fair enough. I’d rather keep my family as far out of the range of danger as possible. But with respect to your abilities, I’d rather help you learn to use them to the furthest extent you can, than be like your mother and tell you not to use them for my own selfish reasons.”



“You could never be like her.”



“My motives might be out of love, but it wouldn’t make them less wrong.”



Like what she’d done for the baby. His words came back to her, but they didn’t hurt so much, particularly when she saw how he was in fact struggling with accepting what the two of them being together, the way they wished, could mean. It would be difficult for him. But he truly wanted her with him. And that meant more to her than any gift he could ever give her.



“All right, then. Yes. I would love to go with you, see the things you see, fight at your side. Know I could be a help to you, and to those who need help. And I’d love to learn from you…. if you don’t get all overbearing and Mr. Know-It-All about everything.”



He grinned then, though his eyes remained serious. “But we could play stern schoolmaster and naughty student. I could conjure a ruler, or a paddle….”



“Who says we’d be playing?” Stretching her arms up around his neck, she met his mouth. Bringing her body up tight against his, she mashed her breasts against that hard chest. She wished he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so she could feel the pleasant rasp of his hair there against her smoothness. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have to wait long for that. He growled against her mouth, delved deep again, until he was hard and she was damp, both ready and wanting.



But at length, he raised his head. Derek was a man who didn’t lose sight of his objective. She was sure he was related to those large, slobbering hounds that tracked prisoners through swamps.



“How about this?” He nuzzled her throat. “We make ourselves a home, wherever you want it to be. North Carolina, the mountain cabin, it doesn’t matter. A place that’s ours, where we go to be us, a family. And we stay there for a bit, give ourselves a real honeymoon. Then we’ll take it one step at a time. But you still have to say yes first. After that”—his head lifted, his gaze making her shiver deep inside in all the right places—“I’m not of a mind to give you many other choices about getting rid of me.”



A montage of memories passed through her mind. The way he’d squatted down to look under a table at a hurting little girl, holding a dead kitten. His quick, reassuring smile for an awkward teenager as she told him about that first boy crush. Bringing her a rare book on arcane theory she’d thought was out of print. Sending her postcards from different places, just short, funny notes, giving her a lifeline in a dark world.



When he visited her, he’d told her stories of his adventures. She knew he hadn’t truly been lying about the monk and the vampire queen, because it wasn’t the first story he’d told her about vampires. He’d provided magical teachings to another vampire, a solitary male who lived in the Sahara desert, apart from his own kind. The love of his life had been murdered, and Derek had helped the grief-stricken man preserve the body of the woman he loved, so he could visit her in her tomb and see her perfect and unchanged, year after year, until his heart could heal.



When he’d told her stories like that, he said she was the only one he’d ever shared them with. And she believed him, because he’d never lied to her.



As memorable as those times were, there were others that eclipsed them. Like that first moment his eyes had warmed on her and she knew he saw the woman she’d become, and wanted what he saw. Even when she’d been too uncertain of herself to realize just how much, to recognize a man falling in love. A man who wanted to spend his life with the woman he held in his eyes, his heart and soul.



She might not ever get over her incredulity that this complex, powerful man loved her, actually admitted to needing her in a way he’d never needed anyone, but she knew her own feelings would never be in doubt. And she was done with being afraid of grabbing hold of the things she wanted most.



“Yes. Derek Stormwind, I will marry you. I will be your wife, as long as the Lord and Lady give us. And I promise to try and be someone you can depend upon, the way you’ve always tried to be there for me.”



“And no soul magic,” he said sternly. “Ever. I’m putting it in the vows.”



“Unless you refuse to be considerate. Leaving toilet lids up, forgetting to pick up your socks. Then I’ll hypnotize you and turn you into the male version of Martha Stewart.”



He raised a brow. “If I recall, you’re the one who leaves your clothes everywhere when you go to bed.”



“When you rip them off me,” she returned archly, her lips moving into a pout that quivered at the corners with laughter. “Who left a coffee ring on my side table because he couldn’t be bothered to get the coaster that was sitting less than ten feet from his big old booted feet? Which were propped on the coffee table, I might add—”



He kissed her again. She gave herself to it, flooded with the warmth and joy he offered, that she saw in his face from her decision. He loved her. He really, really, loved her, and wanted to be with her. She pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders, wanting to clutch that bare skin, tangle her fingers in his chest hair, kiss his neck when he was moving inside of her, over her, press her face there, hard. He tugged her skirt off her, their arms getting in each other’s way as she opened his jeans, tried to push them off his hips. Her arms weren’t long enough to reach beyond his taut ass, and that was a distraction she couldn’t resist, anyway, her palms sliding along the firm muscle to palm him there. He muttered an oath of need and got the rest of his clothes and hers out of their way so he could lie back down upon her.



“Now,” she breathed. “I’m ready for you now. Don’t wait. I need to feel you inside me, Derek.”



“You’re wet as you can be for me, girl,” he agreed, his eyes intent, his hand sliding through her folds, making her shudder and give a soft cry. “Wrap your legs high on my back. I want you to feel me deep.”



She obeyed, and held his gaze as he thrust, slowing himself only enough to make sure he didn’t bump into her too rough in the more open position. He always remembered things like that. Knew when to give her roughness, when to be gentle. Always. She realized then how much, in how many ways, she already trusted him. And the past few days had only expanded that feeling into even more vital areas.



“So, who do you want to be at our wedding?” She managed it in a breathless whisper as he bent to kiss her throat again. Working his way down toward her breast, he used one large hand to cup and tilt it up to his mouth. She gasped as he suckled the nipple, hungry for her. He lifted his head, though, his mouth wet with it. Met her gaze with eyes on fire with desire, the need to ride her to the finish.



“As long as you’re there, I don’t give a damn.” He put his head back down, then came back up, a breath away from taking possession of the nipple again. He gave her a narrow glance. “As long as Mikhael Roman isn’t on the guest list.”



“There go my plans to have him give me away.”