Nevermore
Brenna Lyons
Nevermore
By Brenna Lyons
Published by Phaze Books
Also by Brenna Lyons
Black Sail
Conquest
Mama’s Tales
The Last of Fion’s Daughters
The Color of Love
We Shall Live Again
Phaze in Verse
“The Fire God’s Woman”
from Coming Together: Under Fire
Last Chance for Love
Fates Magic
Rites of Mating
In Her Ladyship’s Service
Matchmaker’s Misery
Animal Instincts
Night Warriors
Will of the Stone
Bearing Armen
This is an explicit and erotic novel
intended for the enjoyment
of adult readers. Please keep
out of the hands of children.
www.Phaze.com
Nevermore
A Phaze Raven HeatSheet
BRENNA LYONS
Nevermore copyright 2009 by Brenna Lyons
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Phaze Production
Phaze Books
6470A Glenway Avenue, #109
Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222
Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
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Cover art © 2009 Skyla Dawn Cameron
Edited by Kathryn Lively
eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-512-1
First Edition – September, 2009
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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Dedicated to...
Tamer, who hasn’t quite tamed me yet.
Traia sat before the fire, fuming that she’d been reduced to this. She was a witch. A witch! She was supposed to be smart. At the very least, she was supposed to be more powerful than her adversaries were, than the pathetic creatures that skulked in the darkness.
How a pointed-eared, shape-shifting mutt had tricked her in the first place was a mystery. His getting a hook in her soul was unbelievable. Traia was hardly a dabbler or even a journeywoman. Far from it.
She was Mistress Traia, strong in the natural magicks and learned in spells of protection and healing. People traveled days to barter for her aid. Those who were in great need paid modestly for what they sought. Those who asked for the frivolous or foolish paid more than they could afford as a lesson.
If she failed tonight, those days were over. All she had to do was keep the stinking werewolf away from her...or kill him.
For some reason she couldn’t name, the thought of killing him sent a completely unwarranted pain through her. It wasn’t right to feel this way. If he reached her again, her wards were useless.
“He’ll rip my throat out.” Traia pressed a hand to it, abruptly nauseated. Losing her livelihood would be bad enough. Losing her life was decidedly worse.
And what werewolf wouldn’t kill a witch who knew what he was? None that she’d heard of.
* * * *
Galen watched the cottage from the tree line, his palms sweating at what he was about to attempt. Of all the women to set off his mating instincts, the usually fair and kind Goddess had cursed him with a witch.
What did I do to deserve this one? He tried to live a good life, despite his cursed birth. Galen wasn’t a nomad like most of his kind. He didn’t kill farmers’ stock and deprive the innocent of their livelihood. But he’d obviously gone wrong somehow.
“Badly wrong,” he muttered.
His shoulder ached in a stark reminder that Traia would doubtless try to kill him again, given the chance to. It had taken several weeks to heal the wound that would have killed any human man.
Had he been any slower, or Traia’s aim been true, Galen wouldn’t have needed the reminder. Instead, he would be the occupant of a shallow grave, laden with monkshood and witches’ potions to guarantee his descent into hell. Still, he couldn't help wondering if Traia’s aim was so bad or if her heart hadn’t been in the attack.
There was only one way to solve this. He would have to go to her. Either the night would end with Traia as his mate, or Galen would be dead by her hand. With his instincts raging, Galen couldn’t walk away. Nor could he harm her.
He could, however, seduce her again, if she gave him the chance to do so. Just the thought of it had him hard in anticipation. It was a certain wager that Traia wouldn’t submit without a fight, and a buck in the mating cycle loved nothing more than a challenge.
The tickle of the near-full moon on his neck reminded Galen that it was time to claim his mate. “Or die trying,” he reminded himself. That was a disheartening thought, but it was accurate. There was a good reason bucks avoided the chance of scenting a mate.
Galen ambled to the border of her circle of power, shivering at the tingle of her wards and shields against his skin. They were stronger now, but by the decree of the Goddess Herself, they could not keep him from what was his own.
Traia’s scent had drawn him in, but the invitation of her protective spells had confirmed what she was to him. Only someone who meant Traia no harm would be welcomed in, and his mate was the only person in the world Galen wasn’t in danger of harming.
Smiling at the irony of the situation, he stepped across the line of power. He couldn’t harm Traia—didn’t want to harm her—but she was about to do her best to kill him. Though her magick was useless against him, her blade wasn’t.
“Yet.” A smile twisted his lips at the thought of the truth she would have to face, then disappeared at his mind’s rebuke. She would only have to face it if he succeeded.
Caution firmly in mind, Galen took the final steps and knocked smartly on her door. He bit back a laugh at her muttered curses.
* * * *
Traia didn’t question who knocked at her door. With vampires, weres, and zombies hunting the night, no human came to her door after sundown, late enough that he couldn’t complete his business with her and return to the safety of his own shields before the sky darkened. She rarely saw visitors after mid-afternoon.
He knocked again, a jaunty little children’s song backbeat. Traia crossed one leg over the other, making a conscious effort at ignoring him. Though it probably wouldn’t discourage him, Traia was hardly about to invite him in.
He’s not a vampire, she reminded herself. Refusing to invite him in would make little difference.
Vampire or not, I am not welcoming a foul creature into my home.
He knocked a third time, a more impatient cadence, heavier than the previous inquiries. “Traia.” His voice was soft, taunting, and all too familiar.
Traia bristled. “I’ve been nice so far, mutt. Push me much farther and I’ll make cuffs of your hide.”
He laughed at the warning. “Now, Traia. The fact that I’m knocking on your door should tell you something.”
“That you�
�re persistent and stupid?” she ventured rudely. He deserves no better.
“That your shields and traps won’t work against me,” he countered.
“They are simple magick. I have stronger.” As if to reassure herself, Traia picked up the items she would use to drive him off. Her gaze strayed to the final weapon in her arsenal, and she shuddered at the thought of using it.
“Perhaps.” The truth didn’t seem to concern him. “Probably so.”
“If you enter my home, you will be carried out.” Memories of his tall, strong body prompted a silent addition to that statement. By a very strong man or two of lesser strength.
“Would you care to open the door and be proven wrong? I would hate to have to break it down to do so.”
The presumption! He really is a dog.
“Traiaaaa...”
She shivered in arousal. Her thighs dampened, and her nipples tightened. It didn’t make sense. She knew what he was. Why was he still able to affect her this way?
Traia forced her mouth to unglue. “The door is not bolted.”
He hesitated. “You’re inviting me in?”
“You wish.”
His dark chuckle set off another round of shivers and several warning bells. Traia wished she could claim a sense of dread caused them, but nothing about his approach made her feel it. It was only her mind screaming warnings. It made no sense. Her senses had never failed her so completely before. Then again, neither had her magick.
The door opened, and Traia’s mind rioted. She’d invited him in the first time—had she nullified her defenses in the process?
No. He’s not a vampire. Vampires were the only ones who nullified the magick with an invitation. Not to mention, the vampire had to be invited in at each visit, and she certainly hadn’t done so. Not at the shield line and not at her door.
He stepped into her line of sight, and for a moment, Traia forgot how to breathe. Galen! Goddess, but the man was beautiful. And he knew how to use that cock to keep her in bliss.
Too bad he means to rip my throat out.
As if in agreement, he licked his lips. Traia raised the silver amulet in warning, belatedly musing that she should have simply tied it around her throat.
Galen arched an eyebrow at the move. The door swung shut behind his hand, and he added the bolt for good measure.
Traia stared at him in disbelief. He was cutting off his means of escape. In her moment of indecision, Galen stripped off his shirt and started toward her.
* * * *
Galen inhaled her scent, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and ready woman. His cock and fangs lengthened in response to the challenge. There was no question Traia wanted him, but she would fight herself and him to deny them both what they needed. It was a witch’s way.
Traia scrambled to her feet, gathering up her trinkets of power in a vain attempt to kill him. If she were any other witch, he’d be a mile away and still running. But she was his mate.
Luckily for him, Traia had never studied the wolf tomes. She was the typical superior witch; there was nothing a lowly mutt book could teach her. His lip curled in wry amusement and disgust mixed.
No, there is nothing the wolf tomes can teach you. Nothing except that you are powerless as a human against me...and I am as safe as a puppy with you.
Traia thrust the monkshood stake at his heart.
Galen snatched it from her hand, smiled, and pitched it over his shoulder. Ordinarily he would be in agony, but not with his mate handling the weapon. “I do prefer the flowers,” he teased. It was a lie, of course. While they would have no effect on him—if Traia carried them—the smell of the flowers was abhorrent to him, in general.
Her eyes went wide, and she held up a woven twig doll decorated with the usual strings, candle wax, and other effects, anointed in oils and rubbed with potent herbs.
He snapped it in two and let his half fall to the floor. “We have better things to play with, Traia.” Her attempts excited him past reason. He’d known she would fight him. He’d dreamed of it for weeks.
She dropped her half of the doll and pressed the silver amulet to his bare chest, to the lupine mark she’d tried to spear their first morning together. Galen hummed in pleasure at her touch, and his cock jerked in anticipation of the bedding to come.
“I don’t...don’t understand,” she stuttered. Her deep blue eyes pleaded with him. Her eyes were a gift, the color of the eastern sky late in a sunset.
Galen turned his head, nipping her wrist playfully.
“No,” she gasped.
Traia released the amulet, and it landed in his hand. Galen settled it carefully around her neck. It might hold no power against him, but it would protect him from other weres. She dragged it off and threw it. He watched it fly, noting its path. Traia would wear the amulet.
She turned to run, and Galen wrapped his arms around her. No doubt she meant to make it to the dagger on her worktable or some other weapon she could still strike him down with. As long as Traia didn’t do that, there was a chance for them.
She fought him, twisting in Galen’s arms. His cock thickened fully at the challenge...at the struggle with his mate. A strong woman was every buck’s dream come true.
Traia’s teeth pressed to his forearm.
Galen smiled at the move. You should have read the wolf tomes. She didn’t know what biting him would do, and that would work in his favor.
He groaned at her breaking skin, at the trickle of blood escaping his body and coursing into her mouth. Traia didn’t know it, but she’d played right into his hands. He would have had to find a way to make her drink from him; the bite was a dream come true. Perhaps the Goddess wasn’t quite as put out with him as he’d thought. His arms tightened, a silent urging for her to continue, to bite down harder and speed the process.
The change came over her at a painful pace not unlike the moments when the last of the moon’s glow surrounded the far hilltops and taunted him with the return to humanity. Traia’s struggles weakened, then ceased. Her teeth eased away, but her mouth remained. His cock bucked at the first weak suckling motions.
“That’s right,” he crooned.
Traia collapsed in his arms, her breathing harsh. She turned to him, opened his trousers with shaking fingers, and stroked a hand up and down his cock.
It was what he’d been waiting for: the mindless need. Galen captured her lips, growling at his blood in her mouth and staining her face. Traia tangled her tongue with his, her hand working him more eagerly.
Just when Galen would have broken off the kiss to proceed to something more involved, Traia went to her knees. Her mouth engulfed his cock, and she worked him in and out.
He tangled his hand in her hair, every muscle strung tight. Galen didn’t worry that she’d bite down and attempt to emasculate him. In the fervor, she wouldn’t consider hurting him. Even if she did, his blood would still the urge and make her more fevered for his loving, and his accelerated healing would take care of the damage.
She sucked hard, moaning around his length, causing an alien tremor in his hand. Traia had started the process of bonding by biting him. Before the night was over, she’d finish it.
She became more avid. One hand worked his sac while she sucked. The other opened fasteners on her clothing.
The combination of sights and scents, coupled with her ardent sucking, was too much for him. Galen climaxed into her mouth with a roar of possession.
Traia rocked back on her heels, cum dotting her deep red lips as his blood had moments earlier. He pulled her to her feet, stripping her clothing away. She shook her head slowly, speaking bits of words that made no sense. Galen took his time, pushing his trousers to his ankles and stepping out of them.
He lifted Traia over his shoulder and carried her to the bed they’d shared, grabbing bright-colored scarves from her worktable as he walked past. Halfway there, she started struggling again. Her fists pounded against him ineffectually, and her nails dug furrows in his back.
Galen
stopped, gasping for breath. “If you keep challenging me, I will be hard all night.”
Traia went still. At first, he thought he’d shocked her into the response. Then her mouth pressed to one of the cuts. Galen groaned, then again as she sucked at him. Now that she’d had a taste, the smell of his blood drew her.
At the limits of endurance, Galen deposited Traia on the mattress. The sight of her hair fanned over the pillows, as dark and glossy as raven wings, stole his breath.
Her tensing muscles spurred him to motion. His blood wouldn’t keep her enraptured for long. Galen had to have Traia tied down before she recovered her senses enough to attack him...and before he was the one incapacitated by the bonding.
* * * *
Traia’s head cleared minutely, enough to curse the mixed flavors in her mouth. What was his blood doing to her?
She reassured herself that it wasn’t turning her into a werewolf. Blood exchanges were for vampires. Bites were for zombies.
Despite the old human myths, werewolves didn’t turn others. They mauled, maimed. Murdered. But they couldn’t curse another with their bites.
“You’re going to rip my throat out,” she murmured. It should have concerned her more than it did, but her mind was still muddled. Galen had overpowered her senses with some magick that was foreign to her.
His dark laughter sent curls of awareness through her body. It was all she could do to swallow down pleas for his cock.
Galen paused in the process of binding her left ankle, his golden gaze panning up her body from between her wide-spread legs. “There are parts of you I’d much rather eat than your delicate throat.”
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. When it did, she moaned at the mindless response of her body.
