The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (5 page)

And then she realized what had happened.

She blushed fiercely. One slip. One small slip, all because she hadn’t wanted to stare at Aaron’s backside any longer. She could still feel the ghost of Jezebel’s fingers travelling along her body, tracing her curves, heating her blood. The memory had been from two months ago, right after she’d brewed the potion that would transform the demon Jezebel into the mortal Jesse. Jezebel had tricked her, bespelled her.

Seduced her.

Caitlin gingerly rubbed her shoulder as Aaron glared at her. Rage was stamped on his features – but through their joining, she felt the fear that gnawed at his gut. He was furious with her, but also terrified by what had nearly happened. “When I say ‘Don’t look in the mirrors’,” he snarled, “that damn well means don’t look in the mirrors!”

“It was an accident,” she said, hating how lame her words sounded.

“Penicillin was an accident! This was intentional!”

Her eyes narrowed. Yes, he was right to be angry with her; even so, she wouldn’t be his whipping post. “Stop yelling at me.”

She felt his emotions dance in quick succession: fury, frustration, relief, and something else, something she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – name. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Keep your head in the game, dearest, or a memory will try to eat you again.” He whirled around and stomped off, leaving Caitlin to hurry after him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!
She mentally slapped herself for being careless, and she slapped herself again for having to be rescued by Aaron. He’d never let her live that down. Damn it.

Well, at least he
had
rescued her. And now she was too mad to think about his ass. So that was all right.

Aaron came to a halt in front of a mirror. He was careful to keep his gaze on his feet as he reached out with his magic to confirm that this was it. And . . . yes, there. Jesse’s spirit was somewhere within. He was amazed by how similar her soul felt to Caitlin’s, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Caitlin had given Jesse more than mortality and a shared name two months ago.

Did they share a soul? If so, no wonder the memory box had gone awry.

But as he recognized Jesse’s spirit, he also noted that it was too solid, too present within the memory. He frowned. Whatever she was reliving, it would be real to her. And it would loop continuously, keeping her sealed within while her body starved. Soon enough, she would die in the Real. Her soul would either fade or be locked within the Surreal – all because she had opened a memory box not intended for her.

It was an insidious trap. If he had done it on purpose, he would have been terribly impressed with himself.

“Got her,” he said, turning to face Caitlin. Like him, she was purposely not looking at the mirror. “Remember: we go in, you go up to Jesse and wake her up. Do it fast, before the memory overwhelms you.”

She nodded curtly.

“As soon as she wakes up, the memory will shatter. We’ll launch ourselves out before everything winks out. Be ready for a hasty exit.”

Again, she nodded. And then she did something that nearly dropped him on his ass: she kissed him. It was sudden, and passionate, and over far too quickly. A moment of heat and promise, and then she pulled away, leaving him rather dazed. “For luck,” she said softly.

“Luck,” he agreed, his head spinning. He steadied himself, then said, “Ready?”

Face pale, she nodded.

Then they stepped into the mirror . . .

. . . and Aaron flinches from the intense heat baking his skin. The ground is flat and hot beneath his feet; he takes in a startled breath and he feels his throat char. And he knows in his soul that he’s in Hell.

Not me,
he tells himself.
This isn’t happening to me.

Ahead of him is the biggest wall he’s ever seen, and a pair of wrought-iron gates. Muffled sounds echo beyond the wall – screeches and moans and laughter and snorts and more, so much more, a cacophony of exclamations that make him want to clasp his hands to his ears. But this isn’t real.

Not real.

In front of the gates, two demons are groping each other. Satyrs, both of them – the woman bald with cherry red skin and a curly black pelt, the man a bright turquoise and blond. Fire-red horns jut out from beneath his golden hair, and his eyes flash amber as he grins at the woman – the succubus. “Patience,” the incubus says as he wraps his arm around her waist and crushes her against his chest. “Just a little taste first.”

Not real.

He kisses her, hard, and Aaron sees, feels, their passion as she kisses him in return. Now the incubus is licking his way down her chin, tracing the lines of her jaw, teasing her collarbone with his mouth. She arches back, exposing her breasts, telling him with her body exactly what she wants him to do.

Not . . .

Aaron wants to pull his gaze away. But he can’t. He watches as the demon sucks one of her nipples until she is writhing in his arms, her delighted groans like music. Now the incubus attends her other nipple, working on it with his lips and tongue, blowing on it.

Aaron is groaning, too, as the demons play. He feels their arousal, their need, and it sinks into his skin, setting him on fire. Panting, he watches the demons and slowly loses himself to lust, thinking of Caitlin as he wraps one hand over his shaft and begins to pump.

Hurry,
he thinks, but whether it’s for Caitlin to hurry over to Jezebel or for himself to come, he couldn’t say.

The succubus’ hands tangle in the demon’s hair, and her hips roll as he sucks her, back and forth, first one nipple and then the other. His hand reaches down, snaking over the curve of her belly. Down more, trailing his fingers over her mound. Stroking her sex. She lets out a throaty growl – insistent, demanding, hungry.

Aaron growls, thinking of Caitlin, wanting her like never before. He wants to pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless. He wants to hear her squeal as he pounds her again and again.

Caitlin . . .

And now Caitlin is rushing past him, dashing over to where the incubus is prodding the succubus to orgasm. She throws her arm back and cracks her palm against the female’s cheek. “Wake up, you stupid succubus!”

The incubus keeps fingering the female demon, who is looking at Caitlin with heavily lidded eyes and a lazy grin. “Heya, Sis,” she says thickly. “Come here often?”

“Jesse Harris,” Caitlin says in the way that siblings have mastered over the millennia, “you stop this right now!” She slaps the succubus again. “Come on, Jesse – it’s time to wake up!”

No longer grinning, the succubus blinks. “What?”

“You heard me,” Caitlin says, preparing to strike her again. “This isn’t real.”

This time, the succubus catches Caitlin’s arm. For a moment, it looks like she might rip the limb from Caitlin’s body. But then she cocks her head and looks at Caitlin, and then at Aaron, and then she considers the incubus, who’s still playing her body like a fiddle.

“You’re right,” she finally says to Caitlin. “If this were real, Daun would be at least four inches bigger.”

And like that, the succubus disappears in a puff of brimstone.

Aaron feels the lust recede just as everything around him fades out. Caitlin launches herself at him, tackling him to the ground . . .

. . .
and Aaron opened his eyes. He was in Paul’s living room, seated on the floor, Caitlin’s hand in his. He stared at Caitlin, and he shivered from the vestiges of lust that danced along his body. He wanted to pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless.

No. That hadn’t been real.

Yes. Yes it had.

Embarrassed and flustered and horny, he opened his mouth to say something, anything. But that’s when Jesse propped herself up and said, “Sweetie, you look much better with your clothes off.”

The coffee shop was fairly empty, which, for Manhattan, was a small miracle. Caitlin murmured her thanks as Aaron handed her an environmentally-friendly cup filled with steaming liquid caffeine. He sank into the chair opposite her, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything as they drank their coffee. No longer joined, Caitlin couldn’t feel Aaron’s emotions. There was no need; the damage, if that’s what it was, had already been done.

She still wanted him. And she knew that he wanted her just as much.

But lust wasn’t love. And love with Aaron hadn’t worked.

Maybe it could work again . . .

No. And no.

With a sigh, Caitlin drank her coffee.

“So,” Aaron said, “when are you heading back to Salem?”

She shrugged. “After this, I guess.”

He gazed at her, drinking in her features. “You’re drained, Caitlin.
Stepping
now isn’t just a frivolous waste of a year of your life. It’s potential suicide.”

“I could do it,” she insisted.

His mouth quirked a smile. “Of course. The great and powerful witch Caitlin Harris would never risk casting a spell strong enough to bend the Universe’s rules when she was falling-on-her-face exhausted.”

“So dramatic,” she said with a sniff. And never mind that he was right.

He reached over and touched her hand – hesitantly, even shyly. “Stay the night,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll give you the bed, and I’ll take the couch. But stay. Rest. And tomorrow, travel the old-fashioned way. I’ll even drive you to the airport.”

Her head swam. Aaron had no business being chivalrous, not when she was already on the precipice. He needed to be a jackass, a pompous jerk who thought the world revolved around himself. “You don’t have a car,” she said.

“Well, I’ll put you in a cab.” He squeezed her hand, once, then snatched his hand away. “If you don’t want to stay with me, can you go back to Paul and Jesse’s and stay there overnight?”

She shuddered. “Ugh, no. Jesse didn’t even wait for us to leave before she started attacking Paul.”

Aaron’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “They were still dressed when we snuck out of there.”

“A temporary condition, I promise you.”

They shared a laugh.

“Stay,” Aaron said. And Caitlin agreed – but only for the night. And as long as Aaron took the bed; she’d take the couch.

As Caitlin finished her coffee, Aaron put the memory box on the table. He’d grabbed it before they had made their unobtrusive exit – carefully ignoring how Jesse was eating Paul’s face – and he’d carried it tucked under his arm as he and Caitlin walked to the coffee shop. Caitlin had noticed Aaron’s fingers brushing it as she worked on her latte, saw his lips move silently. Now she stared at the ornately carved wooden box, and she marvelled how something so small and so beautiful could be so dangerous.

Aaron slid the box over to her.

“I fixed it,” he said quietly. “It got all messed up when Jesse opened it, but it was easy enough to nudge everything back into its proper place.”

Caitlin arched a brow and said nothing.

“It’s just a memory box,” he said. “Nothing nasty inside. No wicked surprises. It’s for you.”

She looked at Aaron, scanned his face for any hint of deception. What she saw made her feel horribly sad and tired and, damn it all, hopeful. She saw not the arrogant man but the young warlock she’d married, the man she’d once thought she’d love forever.

“Caitlin,” he said. “Trust me.”

And she did. With trembling fingers, she opened the box.

It’s a summer night in the park, and grass is tickling Caitlin’s bare feet as the tree leaves make music with the wind. She is eighteen and immortal, and she’s intoxicated with the power of participating in the coven’s circle. Thirteen witches, sky-clad in the moonlight and linked hand in hand, sing their praises to the Hecate, thanking Her for the gift of magic. Aaron’s hand is so large, it swallows Caitlin’s completely.

After, as the coven members dress or pair off to make their own sort of magic, Aaron and Caitlin linger in the clearing. His hand is still in hers, and he presses her knuckles against his lips, his tongue darting between her fingers. She blushes, both from the attention and from the way heat blooms in her breasts and belly. It’s been two months since she and Aaron have started dating – two months of sweet kisses and curious hands, of a slow awakening of her body. She’s not a virgin, but the boy who had taken that piece of her had been rough and uncaring. That boy had dumped her a week later to move on to the next girl, leaving Caitlin to wonder what she had done wrong.

Aaron is far from uncaring. In the eight weeks they’d been together, he’d made her laugh and made her furious. He is as passionate as she about magic, and he is funny and smart and sexy. But he is also cocky and arrogant, completely sure of himself even when he has no idea what he’s talking about. Caitlin had been stunned to discover that she liked that about him . . . and even more stunned when she realized that he liked her as well.

Their first kiss still makes her lips tingle even after two months.

They had gone slow, with him letting her set the pace. Trust built, and attraction deepened, bringing them to tonight, to this moment – to Aaron, naked in the moonlight, kissing her hand and flicking his tongue against her knuckles.