5. Ambrose

5

AMbrOSE

I feel something slither over my skin and open my eyes, reluctantly leaving the blissful world between wakefulness and sleep. A dull twinge of pain flashes through my ass, making me smile as I remember what happened last night.

Ciarán fucked me into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. He made me feel so cherished. His dirty talk made me feel as if I were on fire… He said the filthiest things.

You’re such a greedy little whore. Just wait until my cock splits you open.

Replaying his words in my mind makes my morning wood twitch. I want to bend over and let him fuck me all day, ride him until I fall apart, pain be damned. Rolling over, I find Ciarán lying next to me. He’s still here.

His shadows roll over my arms and legs, wrapping me in a black cocoon of comfort and protection. His arm rests heavily over my side, and his hand grips my ass cheek hard enough to leave marks behind.

“Awake so soon?” he grumbles.

I look at the clock on my bedside table. It’s 4 in the morning, pitch black outside.

“I’m such a greedy little whore for you, I can’t resist you,” I say, using his own words.

He searches my face, as if he’s trying to find out my intentions. I have a wry sense of humor, and my words are often left open to interpretation because of it.

“I’m not mad about what you said… I liked it,” I confess. Because it’s true. Last night opened my eyes to what intimacy should be like. To what devotion feels like.

He takes my face in his hand, then licks into my mouth. He kisses me long and hard, and it seems as if the whole world is still. His kiss works through me, setting me ablaze with desire. He rolls over, pinning me beneath him.

He grinds into me, slotting our hard cocks together. “You really are an insatiable little slut, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” I mewl as he reaches down and holds my cock in his hand. He teases me with firm, lazy strokes.

He strokes me faster, then shuffles down the bed, nuzzling into my groin before taking my whole cock in one gulp. He takes me deep down his throat, practically sucking my soul from my body. I thrust into his mouth, but he holds my hips down as a wet finger slips between my cheeks, rubbing over my hole.

“Oh fuck,” I moan. “Slip it in. Fuck me with your big, thick fingers.”

My ass swallows it up, and the little twinge of pain feels so fucking good. I love feeling thoroughly used.

As he slides it in and out of me, I smell a faint wisp of smoke. I turn my head to the fireplace and realize it’s not lit.

“Ciarán—” I say as he sits up and breathes in deeply. The smell intensifies, turning intense and acridly smoky. The room heats up, as if by magic…

“The house is on fire!” he growls, springing up from the bed. “This is magical—I can smell him.”

Ciarán’s shadows wrap around him like a robe and he picks me up, flinging me over his shoulder as if I were weightless. We run out of the back door and walk around to the front of the house.

“The entire entryway and part of the living room is on fire, and the flames are rapidly spreading to the back of your cottage,” he states.

He places me on the ground and scans the woods around my home. We both know Caulder is behind this; only magical fire can spread that fast. Ciarán stands as still as a statue as he stares into the distance. Caulder stands in a copse of trees, his magic crackling between his hands. He forms a ball of flames and launches it in our direction. Ciarán freezes it in its path, then morphs into his demon form—a truly terrifying visage for anyone unlucky enough to threaten me.

His pale skin glitters under the rising sun. The features of his face harden, his eyes turning a glowing white. His horns sprout through his dark hair, curling back from his head like a crown. The tail that brought me so much pleasure last night flicks to attention behind him, like a weapon he wields in battle. He launches the fireball back in Caulder’s direction, who barely dodges it in time.

“Your days are numbered, Caulder Scarborough,” Ciarán bellows in his preternatural tone. His voice is an ominous warning. “You’ll pay for your transgressions with blood and agony.”

Caulder’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows almost meet his hairline. The fear evident on his face is like a balm to my broken pride. The man who made my life a living hell—who scared me into fearing for my life—is now scared for his. Today will be the beginning of his suffering. Ciarán slowly stalks him, keeping my ex in his line of sight in case he tries to attack again. Caulder turns and runs into the woods, like the fucking coward he is.

I hear a crackling pop. The glass from the windows blows out and a beam falls through the roof. The house I grew up in is burning to the ground. The place that holds all of my memories of my parents. Where I can still feel close to them, even though they’re gone.

My tears fall, and I don’t even try to stop them. How could Caulder do this to me? My home is all I have. All I had…

Ciarán comes to my side and holds my hand. I can feel his magic pulsing through me, and it calms me.

“Take my magic. Merge it with your elemental magic to stop the fire.”

“I don’t think I can. My magic is shit,” I admit. It’s better he finds out what he got himself into now. He swore to protect me and should know how useless my magic is.

He forces his way past my magical barriers, filling me with a power I’ve never felt before. His magic has a static energy. It buzzes inside me, expanding until it feels as if it’s pressing against my insides, searching for a way to escape.

“Your magic isn’t shit, Ambrose. You just need to have confidence in yourself. I know you can do it. Feel my magic growing inside you? That’s you—not me. I just lent you a boost.”

I look down at our joined hands, only to find that they aren’t joined anymore. His magic isn’t deflating. If anything, it grows more intense, like I’ll explode if I don’t use it. Pointing my open palms toward the fire, I imagine a rushing waterfall. The image morphs into a deluge of water hitting the house from above.

When I open my eyes, torrents of water are pouring down from the sky onto my house. They extinguish the fire slowly but surely, until all that’s left is a smoking pile of ash and rubbish. I pick through the remains, hoping to find anything that survived. Ciarán stands behind me. My sentinel watching over me. Protecting me.

The only thing that survived is my grandmother’s grimoire. Layer upon layer of Stone witch spells must have created a protectant seal on it. It lies unscathed where the coffee table was. I hold it close because it’s the only thing I have left from my family.

I don’t realize I’m sobbing until my demon turns me around, coddling me into his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he coos. “All is not lost…”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. “I literally just lost everything I own. All because of that asshole.”

“If our combined magic was enough to put the fire out… maybe it will be enough to fix the house. If your elemental magic allows you to create water, air, earth, and fire, isn’t it reasonable to assume we can undo the impact of those elements?”

I stare at him with my mouth wide open in disbelief. I think Ciarán gives me much more credit than I’m due. My magic is chaotic, downright unreliable. Last week, I meant to cast a simple spell to boil water for a cup of tea, and somehow sent shards of ceramic mug flying through the air. One time I accidentally created a blizzard when I was a teenager because I wanted a snow day from school. Another time I almost hurt Caulder during one of our lessons when I tried to conjure fire.

How can I possibly rise to the challenge of undoing the damage from a magically set house fire?

“I may have gotten lucky this time. Even with your boost, I won’t be able to do it…” I can barely look at him as I say the words. The truth is too embarrassing.

“Yes, you can, summoner. You didn’t say those words—your insecurities did. After years of being put down and discounted, you don’t believe in yourself anymore. I believe in you. You can do this.”

Ciarán’s words hit deep inside of me. If he believes in me, then maybe it’s worth giving this a shot. I nod, then take his hand and lead him to the center of the house. Something about this location seems… right. The vibe here is more potent. I close my eyes and envision the way my house used to look when I was growing up, before my parents passed away.

Mom’s beautiful rose bushes in front of the house. The pergola we set up in the backyard and the flowers that bloomed on its vines. The brass sun knocker I found at an antique sale. Dad and I fixed it to the bright blue door. Countless evenings spent reading near the big bookshelf in the living room. The smell of homemade cinnamon buns in the kitchen, and the ravenous excitement I had whenever I’d eat them.

With every memory, Ciarán’s magic grows and swells inside me, thrumming to a sound in the distance I can’t quite distinguish. I keep thinking about memories from my childhood and teens. The good times we all had together before they died.

Suddenly, my mind takes a turn, remembering the night they passed away.

Coven members gathered in a spell circle around a young, bleeding witch. The bright red blood on her neck and shirt. The deep gashes her assailant left behind. She suffered from a werewolf bite, but the transformation didn’t work. Her excruciatingly painful cries. The risk they all took to save her. The look of determination on Caulder’s face as a whirling, bright light erupted from their joined hands…

I thought that light would save the young woman, but it struck my parents dead.

The magic inside me fades away, dwindling to nothing. Unwelcome memories of Caulder flood my brain.

“You’re not trying hard enough, Ambrose. What kind of witch can’t even conjure water in a bowl, and an elemental witch at that. This is fucking pathetic.”

“Valentine’s Day isn’t that big of a deal. You’re just trying to pick a fight with me.”

“It’s none of your business why I don’t want to tell anyone. We keep our relationship private and if you don’t like it, I can leave.”

“Stop fucking crying, it’s just a scratch. If you didn’t annoy the fuck out of me, I wouldn’t have hit you.”

His words swirl around my head, killing the little confidence I had in myself. All my hopes of resurrecting my house deflate. Caulder is right. I’m pathetic, a shit excuse for a witch. No wonder he didn’t want to be with me. I can’t even protect myself.

I feel Ciarán push his way into my mind.

Ambrose… my demon’s voice rings in my mind. Are you okay? What happened?

Nothing happened—I’m just a failure. Something inside of me is broken. Why does he think I’m even worth protecting? I’m useless, nothing. The only people who cared about me are gone.

Self loathing takes over as my intrusive thoughts start to spiral.

Ambrose… snap out of it. Stop it, none of that is true.

I open my eyes and see my demon transform into a surging mass of shadows. He charges me, going down my throat and spreading through my body. This possession feels different. The last time was sexual in nature, but this time it feels as if he’s filling in my emptiness. Patching over all the hollow spaces and making me whole again.

Ambrose Stone, we’re in this together. You are not broken. You are not a failure. You can do great, impossible things with your magic, he declares. See what I see…

A reel plays through my mind. It’s Ciarán watching me as I conjure the water and put the fire out. He momentarily watches the magic I create, but most of his focus is on me. On the expression of accomplishment and pride on my face—on my beaming smile.

I hadn’t even realized how happy using magic made me. How capable I felt when carrying out a spell correctly. Seeing myself through his eyes gives me the confidence I lost.

I close my eyes again, but instead of relying on happy memories to fuel me, I look inward. I dig deep, finding that happiness from before and harnessing it as power. A surge of our combined magic bursts from my hands, and when I open my eyes, my house reconstructs in real time. It’s as if I’m watching everything happen in reverse. The charred remains are transfigured to their original materials, and the pieces float back in place. Within a few minutes, my home is back to the way it was before the fire.

Ciarán, you need to see this, I internally scream.

He leaves me, returning to his corporal form. His smile says a thousand words.

“You’re amazing, my little witch.” His voice gushes with pride as he brings me in for a hug.

A throat clearing breaks us apart. I turn my head and see Caulder. He’s flanked by my coven’s elders. All of them regard Ciarán with suspicion, as if he’s a dangerous weapon or a freak of nature. My demon projects a shield around us, one that no magic can penetrate. I know that with him, I can confront Caulder and expose him for the liar he is.

“We saw that demon possess you, Ambrose,” Caulder says in a deceptively concerning tone, as if he didn’t set my house on fire and attack us. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to play the hero, you lying bastard! You set my house on fire and attacked us.” I’m seething with anger, and it takes every iota of control I have not to strike him down where he stands.

“What are you talking about? I know things have been hard for you since your parents passed and you haven’t been yourself, so I came to check on you on my early morning walk. Your home was burning to the ground, and this demon attacked me when I tried to help you.”

The elders fucking fawn over him, giving him googly eyes and patting him on the shoulder like he’s some stand-up guy. It makes me sick.

“You’re lying,” Ciarán says, a smirk blooming across his face. “This man has abused and mistreated my summoner, and I have proof.”

“How did you summon a shadow demon?” Mrs. Talbot, the newest of the elders, says with a hint of surprise.

“I used my family’s grimoire, just like any other witch would,” I snap.

“I’ll take that book so I can research how to properly banish this demon. He’s not safe. He’ll infect and corrupt your mind, Ambrose,” Caulder says as he reaches for the book.

I blast him with my magic before he can even touch the shield, knocking him flat on his ass. He’s unconscious, and the youngest elder checks to see if he’s okay. “Ciarán is right. He can prove that Caulder Scarborough isn’t the man you think he is.”

The other elders look at each other, as if to silently confer. Their facial expressions are a mix of disbelief, shock, and interest.

“How do we know your demon isn’t making this up? What if he possesses us?” Mr. Lambert asks, eyeing my demon as if he’ll attack him at any minute.

“The demon is bonded to me, and can only possess me because I allow him to do so. I can vouch for his integrity. He won’t harm you.”

Ciarán nods, then takes my hand. “Ambrose is right, I can only possess him. I am bound to him and will protect him with my life. I also can’t make up memories—only show them as they were shown to me. Join hands with us, and you’ll see the truth.”

They reluctantly join hands with us. My demon immediately replays every single memory I’ve ever shown him. It’s a giant reel of Caulder abusing and brow-beating me. He shows them snippets of the tamer intimate acts and conversations we’ve shared, and the entirety of the fight we had before I summoned him.

Their gasps while everything transpires are all the confirmation I needed. They see the truth. They know who he is.

When Ciarán is done, we break our union. The elders seem shell shocked.

“He hit you…” Mrs. Talbot murmured. “You poor boy.”

“He had a relationship with you the entire time he was courting Flora,” Mr. Bale, her uncle, gasps.

“He kept me a dirty secret, like I was something shameful.” Saying it aloud makes me feel better, as if I’m letting go of the trauma.

“Because you are shameful,” Caulder says as he rises from the ground. He pats the dust from his pants, a malicious look on his face. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a witch, and once I realized I couldn’t train you, sex was the only thing you were good for.”

“Why would you do that to him, right after his parents died?” Mr. Lambert asks. “You targeted him at his weakest and made him think you loved him, all while courting Miss Flora. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he says around a laugh. “Ambrose broke Witch Law by summoning a demon. That’s punishable by death.”

“He only did it to protect himself from you. You hurt him, then tried to blame him for it. You tried to burn his house down with him in it. If we weren’t awake, he would have died. I’ll never let your coven take him away from me,” Ciarán growls. My demon uses his magic to strengthen his shield, turning it a bright, shimmering shade of gray that matches his eyes.

“You tried to murder Ambrose…” the young elder says to Caulder as she backs away from him.

“I think he killed Ambrose’s parents. He was there when they died, and could have been responsible for the spell going wrong. I saw the expression on his face in Ambrose’s memory and it’s worth investigating.”

“High Priest Smythe already investigated it and said their deaths were an accident,” Caulder shouts.

“And who helped him with his investigation?” I ask. Then it dawns on me—“It’s odd that he passed away a little more than a month after my parents. Another death from mysterious circumstances…”

The Elders break into frenzied conversations. Ciarán peers down at me, giving me a wink. Caulder’s entire web of lies is crashing down around him, and having a front row seat to his destruction is the best view.

My demon unfurls his shadows, wrapping them around Caulder’s throat and hands, binding him into submission. He forces him to kneel on the ground.

“Silence!” he bellows. “Explain yourself, High Priest. Tell the truth, or I’ll end your life.”

“Someone had to do what was necessary to save this coven! It was crumbling under Smythe’s leadership—he never cared about it the way I do! I had to kill the Stones. Aspen was the next in line for High Priest, and Ellie would have never stopped searching for his killer. So I channeled all of those witch’s magic, took them out in one fell swoop, and made it look like an accident. Then I killed Smythe, so no one would suspect his murder was a power grab. Don’t you see? It was all for the greater good!”

“And why did you set your sights on my little witch?” Ciarán growls. “He wasn’t a threat to you.”

“Because his parents were the most powerful witches in our coven. I assumed that magical prowess had to be somewhere inside him, but he proved me wrong. The fact that he was desperate enough to fall in love with me was a bonus. I tried to use his family’s grimoire, but it wouldn’t open for me while he was alive. Once he threatened to out our affair to Flora, I knew he had to go.”

“Your confession is enough to condemn you,” my demon rasps as his shadows tighten around Caulder’s neck and infiltrate his mouth, choking him quickly and efficiently. His death is short and sweet.

“You murdered him before he could stand trial!” Mrs. Talbot shrieks.

“My judgment is trial enough. My job is to protect my summoner from everything and everyone that tries to harm him.” Ciarán scans the elders, his face stone cold and void of any expression. It sends chills down my spine. “Do any of you want to harm my summoner and meet the same fate?”

“You don’t understand,” Mr. Bale pleads. “Ambrose is a danger to himself and others. His poor judgment led him to summon a dangerous demon. Even though his intention was to protect himself, he unleashed you onto our coven. He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”

Ciarán’s shadows ripple, striking Mr. Bale in a flash and wrapping around his entire body. The other elders scream. Some cower in fear, and Mrs. Talbot runs into the woods.

“ You don’t understand. I will protect what’s mine at all costs. If you move against us, you will meet your end.” His shadows constrict around Mr. Bale, choking him and turning his face a blotchy shade of red.

“Ciarán and I are going to disappear. Don’t look for us. If you do, we’ll come back and decimate the entire coven.”

“Would you do that to your kin?” Mr. Lambert asks.

“You all laughed at me and treated me like an outsider. Instead of offering to help me with my magic, you laughed at me. You excluded me. You’re no kin of mine. Leave my property and never darken my life again.”

I use my anger to conjure a strong gust of wind that knocks them all into the woods and off my property.

“Are you ready to start your new life?” Ciarán wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his side.

“Only if you come with me. How about somewhere sunny?”

“Little witch, I’ll follow you wherever you go. I’ll always protect you. Because you’re mine .”

Did you love Summoning? Check out M. Bonnet’s mafia pen name, Mae Malone. Her MM novella, The Taker , is packed with action, filthy talk, and spice!

If you like masked men, primal scenes, and stories jammed packed with spice, download her free MM short story, Chase me Through The Trees .

To see all of M. Bonnet’s work (including some dark PNR why choose with MM and raunchy MM Christmas rom-com goodness), sign up for her newsletter, or follow her socials for exciting updates, click here .

If you want to dive into the Spells and Sins shared world, click here !

Thank you for reading!