He was a jerk, no one denied the fact. Alpha males are usually pretty rough, and he wasn’t an exception to the rule. But God if I didn’t love the attention I got from him. Both Aaron and Kyle couldn’t wait for me to turn my back, but Aaron always made sure to be standing right behind me instead of sneaking around with other girls.
I yanked the t-shirt off my hungry male and pressed my bare chest against his. Aaron kissed me. With my legs around his waist Aaron’s hand found its way into my skirt, searching for the warm, wet spot between my legs, but my patience ran thin. I grabbed his hair and pushed him down my chest, eagerly guiding his face into my already aching womanhood. His nose rubbed against the tidy auburn strip on my crotch while the rest of his beard tickled my delicate flesh.
“Mmm, yes!” I groaned, keeping my fingers in his hair as he hit the spot. The more I moaned the faster he worked on my orgasm, and after the night I’d had it wasn’t long until I was crying out and shaking under Aaron’s powerful jaws.
Without a chance to even breathe after my climax Aaron was on me, in me, taking me with a kind of ferocity I’d learned to expect but never take for granted. I gripped onto his bare ass and moaned wildly for him, mostly out of desire, partly out of discomfort.
I couldn’t help being tight. Every partner I’d ever had always felt too big. Aaron, somehow, seemed bigger than most. Pleasure with him always rubbed shoulders with pain. But I endured because Aaron was possibly the best fuck I’d ever had; and I’d never do any better.
Aaron bit my shoulder. I dug my nails into his bare back and pulled them across his skin. He grabbed me by the neck and squeezed. I found the space between my legs with my hand and hit my second orgasm with Aaron inside me.
He picked me up by my arms and stood straight. After wrapping my legs around his back, Aaron carefully lowered me onto him without guidance. I slid all the way down and groaned his name into his sweaty chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his lips with mine as we found our rhythm, both of us now slick and wet. We’d never fucked standing up before, but Aaron was so strong and had such a capable body; one I got to enjoy as much as I wanted, whenever I wanted.
He took a few steps towards the wall and pinned me up against it. I held onto the nearby counter with one hand and scratched his back with the other as he charged me against the wall, harder and faster. In an instant, his muscles clenched, movements and breathing slowed, and he groaned into my neck.
When we finished I lowered my skirt, grabbed my sweater and pulled it on without bothering to find my underwear. Aaron, likewise, put his clothes on and, grinning at me from over his shoulder, cheekily finished his beer. He didn’t wash his face or hands, didn’t clean up after himself. He knew I liked him rough and dirty, and now he got to go home smelling like me.
“Enjoyed that?” I asked from the other side of the kitchen, completely out of breath.
“You’re worth the wait,” said Aaron.
I sipped my beer. “I should hope so.”
“I’m already looking forward to the next time you’re free.”
“We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Alright, well, you better get the fuck out of here before someone sees your car in my drive.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” he said. Aaron took another cupcake and came toward me. For a moment I thought he was about to present the treat to me in a gesture of kindness I almost dreaded to receive, but instead he gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Catch ya later, freak,” he said before leaving with the cupcake in his hand.
I sighed loudly, undressed again, and let myself melt under the warm steamy jets pouring of my shower head. Aaron always had a knack for being available when I needed him the most, and I needed him tonight. He was a good way to get Damien out of my system.
CHAPTER 11
A few days of relative normalcy passed after that night with Aaron. Business at the bookstore boomed, our lectures captivated my attention and engaged my mind in exactly the way I’d always wanted to and Evan, Eliza and I even made plans to head up this family’s cabin on the weekend. But on the sown side, I didn’t see much of Damien.
Religion and Mythology kicked into high gear with essays, required reading and infinitely long discussions about modern religion versus ancient religions, the Vatican, popes, and even an in-depth peer into Judaism. I wanted to invite him to the cabin with us. We were going to celebrate the Wiccan holiday of Mabon, a type of Wiccan Thanksgiving. I wanted to invite Damien, but the opportunity never presented itself.
It was Friday, after our lecture, where I spied Damien in the hall. I zeroed in on him like a shark heading toward a pool of blood and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey stranger,” I said, smiling.
Damien turned and smiled. “Hey.”
“Finally caught you! I’ve been wanting to speak to you since the other day.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah I—wait, you too?”
The hall was filled with the sounds of other students passing by us. “I have something to show you if you have a second.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, if you can? Seems like we’re both free.”
“Sure, why not?”
We walked off campus and down the winding stone paths twisting through Briar Park, toward the riverbank. All was quiet save for the birds and the gentle sighing of the trees. Low, white clouds blanketed the sky and a thin layer of mist meandered its way along the Geordie in the distance.
“Are you okay?” asked Damien.
“Yeah, why?”
“That mark on your neck. Looks like a nasty bruise.”
I flashed back to Aaron biting into my neck. At the time it hurt so good I didn’t care, but the bruise that remained could’ve come from a fist or a nasty fall.
“This?” I asked, “It’s nothing. I’m a klutz sometimes. I finished that book you gave me,” I said, changing the subject.
“Wow, really? That was fast.”
“I love to read.”
“What did you think?”
“A little unbelievable, if I’m honest.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“Well, for starters, I don’t believe that the Wiccan religion is a diluted form of the truth about Witches and Witchcraft.”
“And why not?”
“Because Wicca is…” I found myself stuck. I didn’t have an answer for him.
Damien simply smiled. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s the truth.”
“And if it’s the truth, how is it that you’re still Wiccan and not whatever this religion is?”
“I’m both.”
We arrived at the calm riverbank. Its waters gently lapped against stone and logs. An owl sang its song nearby. But after the experience I had the other day the scene was cold, damp, and uncomfortable.
“What do you think of this place?” asked Damien.
“I didn’t really want to come back to this part of the river, not after what happened the other day.”
“I know, but you have to trust me. Close your eyes,” he said.
I did as Damien said and exhaled. “Okay, now what?”
“What do you hear?”
I considered my answer. “Birds. Water. Wind. Fish bobbing around.”
“Concentrate on the sounds. Don’t just hear them, listen to them.”
“What am I listening for?”
“Whatever you can hear.”
If Damien was trying to teach me something, I wasn’t getting it. “I can’t hear anything,” I said. “I feel kinda stupid.”
“Don’t. It’s only me here. Trust me. Try again.”
I tightened my eyes, hoping that would help, and allowed myself to relax. Remembering the words in The True Witch, I imagined myself floating on a black sea, surrounded by fog. The waters were quiet. I was sitting on a small dinghy with an oar and a lantern. Gentle waves licked the sides of my boat.
Peering ove
r the side of the craft, clearing the mist with my hand, I spied my reflection in the black water. My heart began to race. The reflection twisted and contorted with the ripples caused by the boat. I graced the surface of the water with my fingertips, against my better judgment. My heart pounded. The image looking back at me wasn’t my own. Something didn’t feel right.
“Hello?” I asked. The mist consumed my voice. Seconds later, my echo returned. I pulled my arm away from the water but a cold, clammy hand grabbed me and pulled me out of the boat and head first into the freezing ocean.
The current beneath the surface was impossibly violent. I was thrown around like a rag doll as if caught in the jaws of a powerful and thrashing beast, completely unable to control myself. When I opened my eyes I was on the ground, on my back, and Damien was holding my neck up. My body was shaking.
“Amber,” he said, “Are you okay?”
I nodded and regulated my breathing. “I’m feeling déjà vu.”
“We’ve done this before,” said Damien, smiling.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked.
“You went into a trance.”
I blinked to accommodate regular light. “You could’ve warned me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would go into a trance. This doesn’t happen to new Witches.”
I sat up. “Who said I was new?” My whole chest tightened, like I’d been struggling for air that wouldn’t fill my lungs.
“What did you see?” asked Damien.
I thought about it and checked my body to make sure I wasn’t wet—again. Luckily no, I was perfectly dry.
“I felt the Currents,” I said, “Almost exactly as it described in the book you gave me; the black ocean and the mist.”
Damien nodded. “So then you used the meditation technique in the book?”
“I didn’t know that’s what I was doing. I… may have skimmed over that part.”
“You should read it again. It’ll tell you how to concentrate fully so that you can control the Currents, so they won’t sweep you away.”
I shook my head. “But then… that can’t be right. If that’s true, then everything in the book is true and I’m a… true Witch.”
Damien remained quiet, staring into my eyes. I caught my reflection in them and saw myself the way he saw me; a messy haired weirdo.
“I’m sorry, I sound crazy,” I said.
“How can you sound crazy when I’m the one who gave you the book?”
“I don’t know, Damien. How is this possible? You just came into my life and all of a sudden I’m a Witch?”
“You’ve been a Witch all along, you just didn’t know it. I’m here to help you.”
“Did… someone send you?”
“No,” said Damien, helping me to my feet. “I found could sense you. You carry your powers with you. The world changes around you just because of what you are.”
I thought about the books moving around in the bookstore and started to question whether a ghost was to blame at all or if Damien was right, and I was causing all that… somehow.
“Tell me this is all real,” I said, glancing up at Damien from my lowered head. “And I’ll believe you.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Amber. This is real.”
My lips curled into a wicked smile. I’m a Witch. “Are you busy this weekend?” I asked.
CHAPTER 12
Damien didn’t have plans, which was lucky considering I’d asked him point blank to come and spend his entire weekend at the cabin with the rest of us. He’d already thought to celebrate Mabon on his own, so why not celebrate the holiday among friends? I headed to the bookshop after my encounter with Damien to relay the news to Eliza; although I wondered how in the hell I would be able to contain my excitement. Damien told me to keep quiet about the Witch thing, for all of our sakes, and I wasn’t about to go against his mandate.
“So he’s coming?” asked Eliza.
“Yeah,” I said, stuffing fresh candles I had just bought into my backpack. “I spoke to him today. We’ve been so busy I didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk to him about it.”
“Or you were avoiding him?”
“Oh, I was not.” I said.
Eliza grinned. “You know what happens at the cabin, right?”
“Stupid people screw and get killed by marauding men with hooks for hands?”
“It’s a cabin in the middle of the woods, no one around for miles, and it’s not like you’re in a relationship.”
“That’s not happening. And I swear, you guys better keep the sex down this time. I’ve gotten used to being the third wheel but we have company.”
“What do you think Wiccans do out in nature on holidays? I swear, sometimes I don’t think you know your own people.”
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but this is the Autumn Equinox. It’s about harvests and giving thanks.”
“I have a lot to be thankful for,” said Eliza, gently rubbing her belly.
I smiled. “I want to impress him, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”
Eliza grabbed the keys to the bookshop, closed the register, and swung her backpack over her shoulder. She held a book in her hand I didn’t recognize; old, brown and a little dusty.
“I’ll bite,” I said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“The book.”
“Oh this?” Eliza’s playful tone emerged. I was in for it. “I’ll tell you what this is when you admit that you’re in to Damien.”
I froze at the front door and shot Eliza a look. “Who said I was in to Damien?” I asked with added quotations.
“It’s written all over your lovely pale face. I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out, sweetheart.”
I laughed. “You’re so far from the truth, you don’t even know.”
“Didn’t you yourself say you wanted to impress him with our ritual this weekend? Show him what a hot little witch you are?”
“Yeah, impress him, not fuck him!”
A sly smirk swept across Eliza’s lips but she didn’t press the subject. “Alright, c’mon you. Let’s get out of here.”
We left the shop and made a stop at Eliza’s place. All the while, waiting in the car, fumbling around blindly on Instagram, a steady knot began to tighten deep within me. This week had been a strange one to say the least and to top it all off my last encounter with Damien left me wanting. Whether I wanted more of him or more of what he offered remained a mystery, but those fifteen minutes I spent in Eliza’s car were the longest of my life. What if Eliza was right about me and Damien?
He lived in a student apartment downtown, in the Raven Crest district. This part of town was the hub of all things government, authoritative and tourist. From hotels to city hall, Raven Crest was the literal beating heart of the city, with a train station sitting comfortably in the middle of it acting as the artery which delivers the lifeblood to Raven’s Glen. I didn’t normally have to come here on a daily basis, but Briar Park was a short walk away, so it made sense that the university had its student housing here.
We only had to circle the block once. I thought maybe I’d written the address down wrongly, but we caught him on the second pass standing just outside Mama Lulu’s bakery wearing a black hoody and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He smiled as the car slowed to a halt and then slid into the back seat.
“I thought we got the wrong address,” I said. I whipped round so fast I nearly ate my own hair. “Hope you weren’t waiting long?”
“No,” said Damien, “Actually I was in the bakery getting something for us.”
“For us?” asked Eliza, looking into the rearview. “What’ve you got for us, Damien?” She could corrupt heroes with a bat of her eyelashes.
“You’ll have to wait before I let you get your hands it,” said Damien, suggestively.
“Eliza, could you drive?” I asked.
We pulled onto the road and started on our journey out of town. Str
eetlights gave way to trees fairly quickly. I turned on the audio, cranked some Nirvana, and we were underway.
“So, have you ever celebrated Mabon with a Coven?” I asked.
“No,” said Damien, “It wasn’t a big celebration for us down in San Francisco.”
“I get that. It’s a harvest festival.”
“Yeah, and it isn’t that widely celebrated anymore.”
“That’s a shame. I think it’s such a beautiful time of year. When greens move aside to allow browns and yellows to show their colors, the last chance to bring in a good harvest; a time where we give thanks for the things we’ve got.”
“And a chance for a road trip,” added Eliza.
“We basically love to take road trips. You’ll learn that about us,” I explained.
“That’s cool. I never used to get out of San Francisco very much. This is pretty fun.”
“Right? A Coven of Witches out in nature. What could be more primal?”
I wanted to bring up our encounter at the river, but I had to pinch myself to stop the words from leaving my lips. I couldn’t talk about it in front of Eliza, and keeping this from her stung like a betrayal. Every once in a while I’d take a glance at the side mirror and catch Damien’s face in the reflection.
Sometimes I caught him looking back.
CHAPTER 13
Despite Damien’s presence looming over my shoulder the entire ride, the drive up was as peaceful as ever. Raven’s Glen—nestled within California though it was—didn’t seem to share the same climate as the rest of the State. Temperature fell as we ventured further into the woods. Faint beams of filtered sunlight courageously broke through low-hanging clouds only barely making it through the trees. The air filling the car was so fresh you could taste the wet leaves.
The Carlson family vacation home didn’t stick out from the surrounding forest. Evan had explained a while back that some fifty or sixty years ago someone built the house by hand using wood chopped from the nearby pine trees. His family bought it out in the nineties. The entire area had a kind of rural feel a Coven of Witches would truly enjoy. Ironic considering Evan’s family held strong Christian values and damn near shunned him when they discovered his belief system had changed.