Chapter 17

17

Clarabelle trackedthe escaping vampire for hours before finally giving up. She’d lost its trail when it emerged from the sewer by a grocery store parking lot. She could only assume it had hitched a ride in someone’s car.

With no way to track it, she decided to head back to Dracin, the broom she filched from the hardware store—using a spell to convince the clerk she’d paid—a stylish thing with a thick wooden handle and old-school straw bristles, none of that plasticky vinyl crap so popular these days.

With her personal phone destroyed and the spare run over, she’d have to borrow Dracin’s to let Marjorie know at least one feral had escaped. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to argue again with her mentor.

The story about the selkie had helped her understand Marjorie’s concern, but at the same time, Clarabelle wouldn’t let her tragedy interfere with her happiness. Would it be hard to be cast out from the coven?

Yes.

But at the same time, it didn’t mean she had to stop being a witch. She could always pray to the Dark Lord as an independent. And if he rejected her, too, there were others who would welcome a witch with her level of power.

As she neared Dracin’s place, she noticed the car on the road nearby with its trunk open. She swooped down, low enough to see the body slumped within, the neck torn out.

A chill settled in her bones.

This wasn’t the work of a dumb feral. She took to the sky again and saw her dragon, hovering in the distance, watching events unfolding on the ground. She cast a spell to hear, her fear turning into hard reality as she realized Theodore had survived—and was going to kill Marjorie.

She’d never make it in time, but before she could yell at Dracin to act, he dove. Dove and ended the threat to Marjorie. Ended the vampire who’d killed his father. Ended the reign of terror in this city.

For a moment, she worried he’d also end the one person who seemed determined to ruin their happiness.

He could have taken Marjorie out in that moment too. Clarabelle would have even understood why.

But he didn’t.

He shifted back into his man shape and said, “You’re welcome.”

In that moment, she saw just how much he loved her. He loved her enough to let Marjorie live, even though she wanted to break them apart.

Clarabelle swooped in and landed, smoothly dismounting her broom as she strode for Marjorie. “I’d say you owe Dracin more than thanks. How about an apology for saying all dragons are evil?”

For once, the older woman looked chagrinned. “It’s what I was told. What the history books—”

“Fuck the books,” her harsh reply. “Dracin isn’t a monster. He’s a man. My man. My lover. And he just saved your life. That has to mean something.”

Dracin slid an arm around her and murmured, “It’s okay. I didn’t save her because I expected anything in return.”

“But you should. We are not Wiccans or Christians who do things out of charity. We are the Dark Lord’s witches. We can and do expect payment when someone does us a favor, and there is no bigger one than saving a life. So?” She glared at her coven leader.

Marjorie pressed her lips and nodded. “I will ensure you aren’t demoted.”

“Not good enough,” Clarabelle stated. “I want the coven to accept my mating with Dracin.”

“That won’t be easy. You can’t expect them to simply agree,” Marjorie argued.

“Then convince them.”

“I might be able to, if”—Marjorie eyed Dracin—“he agrees to a few interviews to show the others he’s not a menace.”

“Interviews, yes, but no magic, no samples, no trying to bind him with a curse,” she negotiated right back.

“Agreed.” They shook on it, the magic binding the promise while Dracin looked on with confusion.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Congratulations. You’re now officially mated in the eyes of the coven and, as such, will enjoy its protection,” a sour Marjorie answered.

“I don’t need protecting,” a bristling naked Dracin said.

“It’s a good thing,” Clarabelle soothed.

“Listen to her. You’ll need this because not everyone will be as nice as me about it,” Marjorie groused.

“Nice?” he snorted.

“Nice only to a certain point. Hurt her, and I will hunt you down and make you wish you’d never been born.” With that threat, Marjorie stalked off, stealing Clarabelle’s new ride to take off into the storming sky.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarked.

Her turn to snort. “She must like you. She’s usually not so nice.” She flicked her fingers, and the vampire corpse on the ground ignited. “Thank you for not letting her die.”

“Don’t thank me. I wanted to let him eat her,” he grumbled. “But I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“And that makes you a better person than me. I probably would have let him bite her before I stepped in,” her evil reply.

To which he chuckled and dragged her close. “I’m glad you’re safe, Belle.”

“I’ll always come back to you, my dragon.”

As thunder rumbled, his lips crushed hers, devouring her in a passionate kiss that made her burn for more. He was already naked. It took only moments for her to shed her sewer-traipsing garments. They stood outside, naked, while lightning flashed and the world rumbled.

Or was it him making her quake?

His hand delved between her thighs, the tips of his fingers teasing her clit before parting her nether lips to find her wet and ready.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured against her mouth as the first patter of raindrops hit their hot skin.

“Let’s not. I like a good storm,” she said, lifting her leg to open herself to him.

His hands grabbed her around the waist for a lift, his strength holding her aloft as she grabbed hold of his big cock, rubbing the tip of it against her. She guided his shaft into her sex, clenching in excitement because she knew now what to expect.

He stretched her so perfectly. Filled her so deeply. With his hands cupping her ass, he bounced her, hitting her sweet spot inside, making her breath hitch.

Faster and faster they moved amidst the wildness of the storm. Their lips meshed, their bodies locked, their passion intertwined.

Her fingers dug into the thick muscles of his shoulder as her pleasure peaked.

“Belle.” He sighed her name as he continued to piston, his flesh slapping into hers with a savagery that matched the storm. Each stroke making her coil tighter and tighter. What sent her over the edge? When he nipped her. The pinch made her come hard, and she screamed, not that it could be heard amidst the thunder, a non-stop clash that shook the very foundation of the world.

When she finally stopped shaking, she noticed the pounding rain and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I do believe this storm is the Devil’s way of saying he approves.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he knows Marjorie hates flying in the rain.”

They were still laughing when they entered the house. Their home.

For now.

She had a feeling she’d still be doing the Devil’s work, with her new mate.