Pisces: No Secrets ~ Excerpt

A Coven of the Wolf story

by Rae Morgan

Every night since Debby had left him in Southern Illinois, Boris visited and, like an incubus, made mad, passionate love to her. Never mind that her sensual tormentor was physically hundreds of miles away in Chicago and she was in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. Never mind that she’d told him repeatedly that she didn’t want him. Never mind that she’d reluctantly resorted to every defensive dark magick trick in the book, and some she’d made up, to forestall his nightly assault on her mind and body. He still visited and with only slight variations in technique, made carnal love to her on the highest levels of the astral plane.

Tonight he was late. Stupid fool that she was, she called him on it, as if she really cared. And she didn’t! Of course she didn’t.

"You’re late. Hot date?" Debby said.

"You missed me, bébé?"

"No, in fact, I was relieved."

Boris snorted. "Liar. I’m growing on you, admit it, little hell cat."

Boris’s astral body reached for her. Debby slapped his hand away and stepped back. Putting what she hoped was a look of disdain on her face, she drawled, "Growing on me? Yeah, like an icky, smelly fungus."

"Debby, my beloved one, you love me, but are just too stubborn to admit it."

"I don’t love you, Bo. Get away from me--" She backpedaled and came up against a stone wall that hadn’t been there two seconds earlier. That was the thing about dreams and the astral plane--real world physics went all to hell.

Trapped, she growled, "Get over yourself and leave me the hell alone. I’m sure there are lots of women in Chicago you can torment on a nightly basis. Some of us need our sleep, because we have a job to do."

"Actions speak louder than words, bébé. So let’s see just how much you hate my love-making, eh?"

Within the space of a millisecond, Boris’s astral body swept Debby’s dream self into a garden on the astral plane, high above the psychic-vamps and unaware dreamers trolling the lower levels. Her clothes whisked away by his thoughts, Debby was open to his sensual assault, once again helpless to fight him off.

Each night it was the same. It was as if her astral body wouldn’t listen to her higher brain, the part of herself that knew that Boris and all that he represented was bad for her. Instead some primitive part of her psyche drove her dreams, allowing her to become a helpless victim to Boris’s lovemaking.

Lately, in the pale gray of early morning after a night of indescribable, passionate sex, there were times she second-guessed herself. Maybe she was fighting Boris and herself far too hard. Maybe she could live with Boris, make a family, and perform magick. Then the bright dawn of reason arrived with the morning sun and she convinced herself yet again that turning her back on Boris and his magical world was the best thing she could do for herself--and for the world. Never again could she allow herself to lose control of the cursed powers she possessed. Yes, she’d helped rescue Selena, Gor, and Boris from the dark magician Darius, but the use of her powers, grown greater with age, both attracted and repelled her. Call her a coward, but she couldn’t face the horrifying darkness within her.

So she’d run home to her safe little world.

The Coven followed her--and Boris wooed her nightly.

"Little one, you are not paying attention. I am nibbling your neck and stroking your labia, but you are miles away. I am distraught."

Boris inserted a finger, then two into her vaginal opening, stroking and spreading her wetness over her puffy labia. Every few seconds, he’d flick her needy clit as if to announce that he was there and wasn’t leaving until he got the reaction he desired. Horny, sensual bastard.

"Distraught? That’ll be the day. If you must know, I was thinking of England."

Boris laughed. His lips moved from her hyper-sensitive neck to her turgid nipples. He licked then bit first one, and then the other until they were rosy and wet. All the while he increased the stroking of her sex. Already her body tightened as her arousal heightened. The tension was so great that she had to remind herself to breathe, just as she fought not to react, not to allow him to control her body.

It was a useless battle. He’d proven in the past that he could arouse her no matter how hard she tried not to respond. Each night she vowed to lie like a stone statue, and each night she ended up moaning, groaning and shouting his name to the alternate reality sky. The only thing she’d been successful at was denying him the words he wished to hear--and even those had come pretty damn close to the surface. But somehow she’d managed not to give him the words of love he wanted so badly. She couldn’t love him. She wouldn’t allow it. It was too dangerous.

A long talented finger stroked her G-spot. Debby moaned. The man knew how to push her buttons. If the sex were this good out-of-body, she figured she’d never survive the real thing.

"Oh, you will not only survive, but beg for more, bébé. Let me fly to you this night. Let’s take our love into the light of the real world."

"It’s this or nothing, Bo."

"You can’t stop me from visiting your dreams…"

"I’m working on it--don’t count me out. My blocking is becoming stronger. You can’t reach me any longer during the day. Admit it."

"As you say, I’m working on it, little cat. Don’t count me out. I am a persistent man when there is something I want."

"You’re a horny, overbearing, ruthless, obstinate Scorpio shifter is what you are."

"And you are my temperamental, slightly out of touch with reality Pisces match. It’s that Taurus rising that makes you so damn stubborn, but we Scorpions are a tenacious bunch."

"My mother told you my birth sign!"

"Your mother knows excellent son-in-law material when she sees it."

"Forget that, she just wants grandchildren."

"And for you to use your Goddess-given abilities."

Debby groaned. Boris was correct. Her mother had been acting strangely ever since she’d met Boris. Lately, she’d taken up knitting baby things--in blue. No pink. No yellow. Just blue. And she made duplicates of everything.

Debby was scared. Her mother had foreseen something and wasn’t telling her only daughter. Her own precognitive abilities were useless when it came to her own future, and Boris’s future was shrouded in a mysterious dark mist that she couldn’t penetrate--or was afraid to.

Debby was also afraid that Boris knew exactly what it was that her mother hid. It was a damn conspiracy.

"Your mother is an uncommonly intelligent woman--you should listen to her for a change."

"Bite me."

And he did--on her inner thigh, then worked his way with nibbling little kisses to her labia, now supersensitive from his finger’s ministrations.

"Come for me, Debby. Give me your moans, your sweet cries of passion. Tell me you’re mine."

Boris took her clit between his lips and sucked--hard.

Debby fell into a deep pool of whirling sensation as wave after wave of orgiastic pleasure surged across her body. As waves turned to ripples, Boris placed his engorged cock at her opening and surged inside, beginning the rhythm that would take her to the top once more. Groaning, Debby lay back and allowed him to sweep her to the stars again. She couldn’t fight him. It felt too good. And, after all, it was just out-of- body sex--not the real thing. She could always get her REM sleep later.

As Boris came into her, he shouted, "Je t'aime, bébé."

Debby gritted her teeth against the love words ready to come out of her mouth and instead groaned in the back of her throat as she reached her peak soon after his.

"Give me the words, little cat." Boris’s etheric self breathed his plea against the damp hair above her ear. "You know we are meant to be life partners. It is preordained. We can work together on your magical control. Work on containing your shadow self. I would never let you hurt anyone or yourself. Trust me. Love me."

Debby heard the truth in Boris’s words. The pleading. The proud Scorpio male allowing himself to beg called to the Piscean need to please a lover. She wanted to give him the words, wanted to please him, to be what he wanted. But the Taurean aspect of her nature, the cautious stubborn side that had allowed her to deny her magick, deny her strong shadow self, forced the words to stick in her throat.

Instead, she said, "Bo, I’m tired--please…"

Whatever she would’ve said next was cut off by the sound of her beeper.

Pisces: Redemption ~ Excerpt

By Sherrill Quinn

Damon felt almost a sense of domesticity, watching her putter around the small apartment, talking to the cat and laughing at herself. If nothing else, her encounter with him seemed to have lightened her mood. For that he was glad. If only...

He deliberately closed his mind to further thought. He was here to do a job. He was to make sure she was protected from the man who sought to harm her, a man who had very nearly succeeded when her former Protector had been distracted.

Damon had been given very strict instructions to assure her safety; he’d sat beside her as she lay in the hospital bed, both legs in casts, face bruised and swollen. She had been stubbornly determined to get well, and he’d fallen a little bit in love with her then.

Abby had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had unwittingly witnessed a vicious crime. Not that she was even aware of it. But the man thought she was, and sought to silence her forever. Which was where Damon came in. He was her Protector, and he’d be damned if he’d let the villain succeed.

He stilled, realizing the import of his words. The veracity they represented. Never mind that she was his hope for redemption, another successfully completed assignment. He would accept the damnation of his eternal soul if it ensured that Abigail McNeil would be safe.

She was more than just a job to him, had been from the moment he’d materialized in her hospital room and had seen her lying so still against the sheets. Now, after having protected her for these many months, he knew he would risk everything to ensure she lived.

When she went into the bathroom and readied for bed, he stayed in the living room. Hearing the water in the shower running, he clenched his fists. He closed his eyes and had no problem picturing what she looked like. Her hair, wet and sleek down her back, curled slightly at the ends just above the rounded curve of her buttocks. Long, slender legs, once strong, now weaker and scarred.

In his mind’s eye, he moved around to her front. Her breasts rode high and firm above her ribcage. Each mound was tipped with a hard, pink nipple, begging for his mouth. Her stomach was slightly rounded, womanly. Soft, light red hair covered her mons and sheltered her secrets from his gaze. He could see her soaping her hands, running them over her soft skin, between her legs...

His cock rose and he stared in disbelief. Again he had an erection. What the hel...heck was going on?

The water shut off and he snapped open his eyes. He heard the shower curtain jangle open, and imagined her stepping out of the tub and toweling off. He wished it were his hands drying her. No, not his hands. His lips, his tongue. He would trace every drop of water, licking it off her silken skin.

“Poor baby,” she said, walking back into the living room. He stilled, then realized she spoke to the tabby winding around her ankles. She held her robe over one arm and wore a towel wrapped turban-style around her head... and nothing else. “I forgot to feed you. Come on.”

She drew on her robe as she went into the kitchen, but Damon had the image of her body seared in his mind. She was exactly as he’d pictured. High, taut breasts with soft pink nipples, long slender legs that melded into a heart-shaped ass. What he hadn’t imagined was the smattering of freckles across her chest.

He was partial to freckles. Fairy kisses, his mother had always called them. They made him want to kiss his way around Abby’s body, following that golden, inviting trail.

Abby fed the cat and got herself a drink of water. When she went into her bedroom, he couldn’t resist following her. She rubbed the towel against her wet hair, then dropped it over the back of a chair. Shrugging off the robe, she slid into bed naked.

Damon watched for a while, listening to her sighing breaths as they evened out in sleep. Slender shoulders peeked above the sheets, skin not much darker than the pristine white linens. He moved close enough to be able to see the gilded trail of fairy kisses across her chest. The little sprinkles disappeared under the sheet.

He wanted to follow that path and see if the freckles continued on skin that rarely saw sunlight.

Thinking of her lying there naked didn’t do anything to lessen his erection. He snagged the towel from the back of the chair and quickly walked back into the living room before he did something stupid--and forbidden--like slide into bed with her.

There was still the problem of his hard-on. Not bothering to question it any more, he took on corporeal form and unzipped his pants. His cock, the tip already pushing above the waist of his briefs, throbbed in its demand for release. He pushed his underwear down, hooked it under his tight balls, and gripped his shaft in his right hand.

His fist slid up, once, twice, then he ran it from the tip to the base, a quick brush. He imagined it was Abby touching him, light, soft hands moving slowly against his thick, pulsing shaft. With a sigh, he acknowledged that he didn’t need it slow and gentle. He needed hard and fast.