Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

GIDEON brADBURY

" M ate," I growl before touching her. When we touch, we magically teleported to the woods. I've lost the ability to form complete sentences. We stare at each other as we stand beside an altar erected in the middle of nowhere. It's made of white marble and has been repaired recently. Normally, this would alarm me; things like this don't just happen—even to people like us, but she's captivated me. I've been waiting for my mate for as long as I can remember, and I've been around since before the Civil War broke out. The Bradbury's have been in the New World since the sixteen hundreds. We've always held prominent seats on the Council. My great-grandmother even managed to escape the sentence the court handed down when the trials were debunked. Thank God. History says she passed away at eighty-five peacefully in her sleep. If only people knew she's masquerading as the pop star/actress Mary Berry.. Nan doesn't age, and she uses it to her advantage. She loves the limelight.

On the other hand, I have done my damndest to remain under the radar. Staying in Boston all this time isn't the smartest thing, but this is home. I feel connected to it in a very real, very visceral way. It's magical. I've earned advanced degrees in medicine, political science, law, economics, criminal justice, finance, engineering, architecture, and computer sciences in my one hundred and eighty-three years. I've accrued a vast amount of personal wealth and helped to grow my family's wealth. The only thing I haven't done is find my mate until now, that is. This woman is… gorgeous. She's tall, curvy, and all mine. Her dark eyes are piercing, and I want to reach out and touch her hair. That's just crazy. I've gone insane. Perhaps this forest is just a shared psychological break, but the breeze on my face, pine scent, and birds' sound tell me otherwise.

"Calliope. My name is Calliope Stregone."

"Gideon. I'm Gideon Bradbury."

"Why have we been brought here?" she asks, looking around.

"I don't know. Have you ever heard of anything like this ever happening?"

"No. Why are we so different? There has to be a reason."

She steps away, and I automatically step toward her like a magnet.

I grab her hand, and we walk around the edge of the woods together. This is so weird. There is nothing around but the altar. When we turn back toward it, we can see that it's now bathed in an ethereal light and a woman is sitting on the edge of it.

"Welcome to The Wood."

"Why are we here?" I ask while Calliope asks, "Who are you?"

"I'm Sorena, the Guardian of the Past."

"I thought that was a myth," Calliope says.

"Clearly not. I've brought you here for a purpose."

"Which is?" I ask.

"You feel that tether between you don't you?"

"Yes," we say in unison.

"Then you know how rare this is. Of course, there are mates, mate fever, and everything, but this is more. I'm sure you have noticed that you are not just a normal warlock, Gideon. The Council has been watching you."

"What's so special about me?" I wonder aloud.

"Ichor," Calliope whispers.

"Very good. You already know your mate so well," Sorena says, smiling.

"You are descended from the demon Ichor. This was always meant to be. In this time and this place, you will join."

"Are you watching?"

"Goodness, no. I am just here to answer questions; besides, I've got tickets to the Sox, and my mate wouldn't be very happy if I missed the first pitch."

"Wouldn't want to miss that," I say, laughing.

"So, no questions?"

"No. I'm good," Calliope says.

"Me too."

"Then I'll leave you to it. It's been prophesized that the child born of your first union will do great things—things you can't even imagine. I wasn't supposed to tell you that, but I thought you should know."

"Where can we find you again?"

"Boston, mostly. The Council meets on Tuesdays, but I'm around. Just conjure me up," she says before snapping her fingers and disappearing.

"That was weird," Calliope says.

"How did you know about Ichor?"

"I dream about him, and you, though I didn't see your face. I didn't realize that it was important thought. I just thought I had an over active imagination."

"I dreamt of you too. I've been waiting for you for so long. I've seen so many wars, so much death, and disease. I've never experienced anything like this before.

"Me either," she says, seeping closer to me.

"Nothing has to happen today if this is too fast; finding you is enough." I lie. My cock is hard. It never has been before, and the need to breed her is coursing through my veins.

"I want you too much to wait. This is what's supposed to happen."

She's in my arms in seconds, and my lips are on hers. The second they collide, everything feels right in the world. I back her to the altar. I'm going to make her mine there.

I kiss down her neck. "Tell me what you want from me," I demand, my hands skimming her soft, thick, supple thighs. I push the skirt of her dress up, never once taking my eyes off of hers. When I reach her hips, I glance down and groan. Her white cotton panties are soaking wet. I gently drag my index finger over the center seam, pushing the fabric into her shallowly over and over. Her pussy lips are puffy, outlined by the soaking wet material. My mouth waters, so I swallow thickly. "Tell me, Calli." I bury my face in her neck and suck on her vanilla-scented skin.

"I want you to fuck me," she moans as I speed my fingers up. As if I wouldn't. What man would go to these lengths for a woman just to leave her hanging?

"Done. What else do you want?"

"I can ask for anything?" she asks, biting that fucking pouty bottom lip.

"Yes," I reply, my voice husky as I push her panties to the side and see her perfect pussy for the first time. She's going to be the death of me. This is the kind of pussy men start wars over. I'd kill any man who dared to touch her.

"Kiss me," she moans, and I look up and lean for her mouth. "No. Here," she says, running her fingers over mine at her pussy. I smirk at her.

"You want me to eat your pretty pink cunt?" I rub her clit faster and faster, bringing her to the edge and then stopping. Maybe I am the fucking demon I descend from because I want her to lose her ever-loving mind over me. Over us.

"Yes," she says, pushing at my shoulders. I step back, pulling her panties back in place. I suck my finger into my mouth. Her eyes widen.

I strip her bare and have her lie down on the altar before stripping. Her eyes widen as I climb up between her spread thighs and stare down at her.

"Say the words. Tell me what I need to hear," I demand, not recognizing my own voice.

"I am your mate. I take you as you such," she says formally, binding us together. I feel her magic coil around mine tightly. I feel the universe shifting into place for us. Crashing into place is more like. A tornado could lift us up right now and drop a hundred miles away, and we wouldn't notice anything.

"I am your mate. I take you as such," I growl, completing our sacred bond before wrapping my fingers around her upper arm, burning my grip into her skin while she does the same to my neck. This will bind her to me as well as intensify our orgasms. It will also show the world that we belong to each other.

And we do. We belong to each other.