Chapter 32 #2
I give her a moment to catch her breath, taking my sweet time kissing each of her silken thighs, then her hip bones.
Her belly. The soft swell of her breasts.
The elegant slope of her neck. By the time I reach her mouth, and settle my still-hard cock once more between her thighs, I’m fully human again, my shadows dissipating like smoke in the breeze.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “What is it my beautiful witch wants now?”
She smiles, limned in a crimson glow. “I want to feel you inside me again,” she whispers.
“Hmm. Like this?”
“Just like this, Merrick.” She slides her hands into my hair, drawing me down for another kiss, and I sink into her.
We find our perfect rhythm once more, moving together, and I think back to that moment in the ballroom, when I held her close and asked her to tell me it was real, that I hadn’t stumbled into a dream.
Now, it feels as though we were inevitable, my witch and I.
A dream destined to come true, as though all the bits of my life—the pain and loneliness of childhood, the drive for knowledge that ultimately saved me, the price I paid the night I lost my soul, all the haunting regrets—were necessary threads weaving the tapestry of this moment, this woman, this love.
She whispers my name against my lips, a sigh as soft as powder, and when she kisses me again I’m lost, falling, floating.
Her body tightens around me, and she cries out in ecstasy, and at long last I come inside her in a blinding, rapturous fury that sets the stars scattering behind my eyes, chasing away the very last of my old ghosts.
Curled up in my arms, head resting comfortably on my chest, Elizabeth says, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes, I can smell the smoke.” I kiss the top of her head. “Tell me, love. What is my brilliant witch pondering so intently after I’ve just manifested for her multiple world-class orgasms.”
“Hey!” She props her chin on her hand, shooting me a playful glare. “Pretty sure that was a mutual manifestation.”
“Hmm. Perhaps we should run another experiment. One can never have too much data.”
“Or too many orgasms.”
“Yet another theory I’m looking forward to testing.”
We fall into comfortable silence again, and for one blissful moment I convince myself she’s not going to say it, not going to give voice to the thoughts we’ve both been dodging for days.
But then she releases a long, slow breath, and I know, by the sudden furrow of her brow and the subtle tightening of her muscles, that we can no longer escape the inevitable argument.
“The soul reunification spell,” she says. “I really—”
I press a fingertip to her lips. One last, desperate attempt. “Let us not speak of it, Elizabeth. It’s fruitless. I won’t let you sacrifice your legacy for me.”
She shakes her head, eyes glazing with emotion. In a soft, defiant whisper, she says, “I think we owe it to ourselves to try.”
I reach for the spectacles on the nightstand.
Place them upon my face, if only so I may glare at her more intently.
“We’ve been over this. You can’t give up your magic—your legacy—just to save us.
And even if I were comfortable with such a thing, it would mean sacrificing the integrity of the portal as well.
The only barrier keeping an army of chaos demons behind the gates—and that’s not guaranteed forever, either.
Sooner or later, we’re going to have to deal with that.
I’m sorry, Elizabeth. The final answer is no.
The reunification spell comes at far too great a cost.”
“You’re right,” she says plainly. “Totally agree.”
“I’m… wow. That was very well the easiest argument we’ve ever had. Thank you for the victory. Allow me to bask in the Six-of-Wands-ness of it all.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, champ. But I drew the Queen of Swords today, and we’re just getting started.”
I close my eyes and sigh, because of course we are.
“First of all,” she says, “this is my magic we’re talking about. If I want to give it up, that’s absolutely my choice.”
“Yes, I agree, but—”
“I don’t want to give it up, though. That’s the thing.
I love being a witch. I want to help train my sisters, and nurture all of our innate powers together, and remake our grimoire, and figure out how to fix the portal for good and stop the demons from busting through and smushing us all like bugs.
I’m also looking forward to frying the rest of the hunters, and Matthias and Ozikai, and anyone else who tries to fuck with us.
So yeah. Big plans, Merrick. Big magical plans. ”
“I’m both relieved and slightly terrified to hear that. But—”
“But… for me, being a witch, embracing my magic, saving the world… it’s all tied up in you.
I know I’m not the best witch—I never claimed to be, and maybe I never will be.
But I am a good witch. I know that now. And it’s because of you.
Not just what you taught me, but because of how you encouraged me, and you believed in me, and you never gave up on me, no matter how many times I showed up late or stoned, no matter how many things I screwed up along the way.
Now, we find out a spell exists that can free you and the guys from Hell—something you’ve been seeking for a billion years—and you think I’m not going to give it serious consideration? ”
My throat is tight with emotion. Pride. Love for her, despite her stubbornness. Maybe even because of it.
Alas.
“I appreciate your valor, Elizabeth. Admire it, even. And under any other circumstance, I would be your most ardent supporter, cheering you every step of the way. But for this spell, this one bloody impossible spell, the cost is just too great.”
She shrugs, as if this is no small thing. “Then we find a way to lower the cost.”
“I’ve been over it a thousand times. There’s no way to do it without giving up your magic. Period, end of story, curtains.”
“Really? Who’s the witch here?” She sits up and straddles me, a small grin rising like the sun, slowly spreading until her entire face is glowing with it.
My cock stiffens at once. Clearly, I’m at a disadvantage. Clearly, I’m going to lose this battle.
“Say it,” she says.
I glide my palms up her ribcage, grazing her nipples with my fingertips. She sighs and shifts, ever so slightly, just enough to brush over my cock, a tempting preview of what’s to come.
Fuck, that’s good. It’s… perfect. It’s…
“Say it, Professor.”
“You are, my darling. You are the witch here. The most fearsome, powerful, all-knowing, indefatigable—”
She leans forward and cuts me off with a kiss.
Then, drawing back, she brushes her thumb across my lips and whispers, “I love you, Dr. Merrick Sutherland. Awkward nerdy professor, shadowy underworld demon, flawed human, eternally damned soul, sexy glasses-wearing hero, all of it. I’m in this with you, no matter what.
I’m not giving up. Together, even if it takes ten years, you and I are going to find a way to rework that spell until it does what we need it to do at a cost we’re both willing to pay. And that is a promise.”
My heart warms, a new lightness swirling through my chest.
“I’m so in love with you I’m mad with it,” I whisper, kissing her thumb. And then, with a wry grin, “And I am most glad to hear of this new plan, Elizabeth. Most glad indeed. But, to clarify one small point, if I may?”
“God! If you insist.” She rolls her pretty green eyes.
“But please give me the TL;DR version. You have a tendency to ramble, and I’d rather get back to more important matters.
Such as…” She slides her hands down my chest and shifts again, taking me in fully, the devious little harlot, rolling her hips in a way that nearly drives every last thought from my mind.
“Oh, that’s just… not… appropriate during a—ohh, fuck me.”
“I’m trying, Merrick, but you insist on talking.”
“Mmm… About what? I can’t even recall.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something about a clarification, some pointless argument you feel the need to interject into the middle of a perfectly good—”
“Right! Clarification. Thank you for the reminder.”
She stills, offering me an adorably kissable pout. “This had better be good.”
“It’s not good. It’s critical.”
Laughter bubbles from her lips. “To what?”
“To establishing the shared meaning and mutual understanding that allows for clear and proper communication, which after all is the foundation of any—”
“Merrick!”
“Fine! Okay. I’m not nerdy.”
“You… what?” She’s laughing again, and if it wasn’t such a delight to hear, I might feel the need to smother it with another kiss.
But first, my point must be made.
“I’m not nerdy,” I repeat. “I’m just a multi-passionate academic seriously devoted to his intellectual pursuits, including that most meta of concepts, the intellectual pursuit of knowledge for knowledge’s own sake, the ultimate goal being the expansion of universal consciousness and awareness, and the continued furtherance of intellectual discovery for the good of all. ”
Silence.
The furrowed brow.
A nod of acquiescence.
Then, the smile again, my personal sun. “Thank you for clarifying, Professor, because you’re absolutely right.
That’s not nerdy at all.” She laughs again and leans forward, pinning my wrists to the bed and circling her hips once more.
On a soft moan, she says, “Now shut up and fuck me before I use my intellectual pursuits to craft the exact spell for turning you into a nerdy, glasses-wearing, not-talking frog.”
Interesting observation to note: there’s no more talking after that.