rely far too much on magic.”
He frowned. “This coming from the Witch of the Year.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It is true—I am a master when
it comes to the craft but my mother always drilled into me the fact that we
must not become a slave to magic. Those who are slaves to the craft covet the
abilities of others imbued with magic, and because of that they make slaves of
those whose abilities they want.”
“Wise words,” he murmured, sitting up.
She looked at him and brazenly twirled around so he could
get his fill of her naked body.
“Commit it to memory, Damien, because after we have our
whirlwind honeymoon, you won’t be seeing it again.”
His posture went rigid. She could feel his irritation and
knew he would never give up on convincing her that he was the right warlock for
her.
Given enough time, he might actually succeed as every part
of her warred against her better sensibility. She actually didn’t want to leave
him; she just didn’t see how she could stay with him given his family
background.
“You’re wearing too much, honey. You need to strip out of
those clothes so we can be completely skin to skin.” She went over to him while
he was still lying on his back and sat down so she straddled him. “Here, let me
help you,” she murmured, using her magic to remove his shirt.
He winked at her.
“I guess you’re not going cold turkey after all when it
comes to using your powers.”
“I never said I’d go cold turkey, darling. I merely said
that you relied on using your abilities a tad too much.”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling.
Memories flooded her mind, memories of when she’d held the
Ross Amulet.
Anya’s body trembled as she sat atop him, grinding against
him, and wishing that she could somehow wipe what she knew about his family
history from her mind. She’d never quite understood the saying “ignorance is
bliss” until he’d given her the black tourmaline amulet as a gift after their
wedding ceremony.
From the moment her hands touched its smooth, cool surface,
she wanted to somehow have amnesia befall her—to her despair some things could
just not be unseen.
During the day she could cope with the frightening images
and the anguished emotion trapped within its depths. It was the nights she
feared.
Nightmares plagued her sleep since she’d left her dear
Damien and now that she was back with him she feared the nightmares would
continue. If he witnessed her screaming fits in the middle of the night and the
many fragile items she shattered as a result, perhaps the magnitude of what he
had done would finally hit home for him.
A sheet of ice settled over her soul, and she pushed away
from him. Standing up, she reached for her discarded clothes and put them on as
quickly as possible. She had to escape, she had to leave him. She couldn’t
stay, staying was madness.
“Please don’t go,” he murmured.
Her body continued to tremble and only relaxed when she felt
his arms wrap around her from behind. He pulled her against him, and his body
warmth invaded her own. The rushed intensity of their encounter had faded, she
still wanted him as he wanted her but somehow he understood that she needed to
sort out her raging emotions.
“I love you deeply, Anya. Whatever comes our way, just know
that I would do anything for you,” he whispered.
He’d always easily professed his love for her by saying it
aloud and not just showing it to her…she knew those three little words were
dreadfully hard for most men to even whisper let alone declare as proudly as
Damien said them.
Her heart melted as his words struck home. She needed to
believe him, she needed to trust him again. She could fight her love for him
her entire life but she’d also be robbing herself of a gift she could never find
again.
He was her true love, he was the man she wanted to spend her
life with—now she just had to convince herself that he wouldn’t hurt her again.
Damien kissed the nape of her neck and
He frowned. “This coming from the Witch of the Year.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It is true—I am a master when
it comes to the craft but my mother always drilled into me the fact that we
must not become a slave to magic. Those who are slaves to the craft covet the
abilities of others imbued with magic, and because of that they make slaves of
those whose abilities they want.”
“Wise words,” he murmured, sitting up.
She looked at him and brazenly twirled around so he could
get his fill of her naked body.
“Commit it to memory, Damien, because after we have our
whirlwind honeymoon, you won’t be seeing it again.”
His posture went rigid. She could feel his irritation and
knew he would never give up on convincing her that he was the right warlock for
her.
Given enough time, he might actually succeed as every part
of her warred against her better sensibility. She actually didn’t want to leave
him; she just didn’t see how she could stay with him given his family
background.
“You’re wearing too much, honey. You need to strip out of
those clothes so we can be completely skin to skin.” She went over to him while
he was still lying on his back and sat down so she straddled him. “Here, let me
help you,” she murmured, using her magic to remove his shirt.
He winked at her.
“I guess you’re not going cold turkey after all when it
comes to using your powers.”
“I never said I’d go cold turkey, darling. I merely said
that you relied on using your abilities a tad too much.”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling.
Memories flooded her mind, memories of when she’d held the
Ross Amulet.
Anya’s body trembled as she sat atop him, grinding against
him, and wishing that she could somehow wipe what she knew about his family
history from her mind. She’d never quite understood the saying “ignorance is
bliss” until he’d given her the black tourmaline amulet as a gift after their
wedding ceremony.
From the moment her hands touched its smooth, cool surface,
she wanted to somehow have amnesia befall her—to her despair some things could
just not be unseen.
During the day she could cope with the frightening images
and the anguished emotion trapped within its depths. It was the nights she
feared.
Nightmares plagued her sleep since she’d left her dear
Damien and now that she was back with him she feared the nightmares would
continue. If he witnessed her screaming fits in the middle of the night and the
many fragile items she shattered as a result, perhaps the magnitude of what he
had done would finally hit home for him.
A sheet of ice settled over her soul, and she pushed away
from him. Standing up, she reached for her discarded clothes and put them on as
quickly as possible. She had to escape, she had to leave him. She couldn’t
stay, staying was madness.
“Please don’t go,” he murmured.
Her body continued to tremble and only relaxed when she felt
his arms wrap around her from behind. He pulled her against him, and his body
warmth invaded her own. The rushed intensity of their encounter had faded, she
still wanted him as he wanted her but somehow he understood that she needed to
sort out her raging emotions.
“I love you deeply, Anya. Whatever comes our way, just know
that I would do anything for you,” he whispered.
He’d always easily professed his love for her by saying it
aloud and not just showing it to her…she knew those three little words were
dreadfully hard for most men to even whisper let alone declare as proudly as
Damien said them.
Her heart melted as his words struck home. She needed to
believe him, she needed to trust him again. She could fight her love for him
her entire life but she’d also be robbing herself of a gift she could never find
again.
He was her true love, he was the man she wanted to spend her
life with—now she just had to convince herself that he wouldn’t hurt her again.
Damien kissed the nape of her neck and
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