Page 45 of The Tanglewood Witches (The Three Sisters 1)
Chapter Eight
As Tavyss held Medea in his arms, somewhere in the back of his mind he understood that she was too powerful to belong in the garden. He’d believed her when she said she was born there. The acrid scent of a lie would be impossible for her to hide from his dragon senses. But she didn’t belong there. Of that he was sure.
His latest theory was that a god or goddess had planted her there, perhaps as a way to exact revenge against Hera. The affairs of the gods were notoriously tumultuous, and Hera was not well liked among her kind. The goddess held a reputation for bitterness and a vengeful nature. One of Zeus’s many past lovers might have proudly done the deed.
But Tavyss couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. However Medea had arrived, the power she’d displayed today, conducting his spirit to Paragon, marked her as a witch—a very powerful one. He was aware of no other creature who could wield such magic other than a god. He’d go so far as to say that she was as strong as any witch he’d ever known.
That should have concerned him. If Hera found out a witch was living in her garden, she’d see her as a threat and expect Tavyss to eliminate her. Which was precisely why he hadn’t asked Medea what she was. He cared too much about her. Hell, his inner dragon wanted her. Plus what he didn’t know for certain, he had no obligation to tell Hera.
Medea’s magic had been a godsend. Once he’d reached Paragon, he’d appeared to his sister Eleanor in her chambers, and although she’d immediately attempted to take off his head, her claws had passed right through him. That got her attention. He’d conveyed Hera’s message slowly and carefully, along with a threat that if the golden grimoire could not be found, there would be repercussions from the gods. Eleanor had assumed that his astral projection was courtesy of Hera and thus agreed to assign her best people to finding the grimoire.
All that and now he was back in Medea’s arms. The deed was done. He might as well have returned to the bosom of heaven itself.
“I’ve never been kissed before.” Medea brushed her fingertips lightly across her lips.
He reached for her and ran his fingers along the edge of her raven-dark hair. She reminded him of a warm night, her skin as luminescent as the stars and her hair flowing like the celestial sky around her shoulders.
“I find myself drawn to you, Medea.” He swallowed. “Drawn to you like I haven’t been drawn to anyone in… ever. I think about you always.”
Her lips parted, her breath hitching in her throat. “I think about you also.”
He reached for her again. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she offered up her mouth to him. This time the kiss moved deeper. He slid her onto his lap, burying his hands in the dark silk at the back of her head.
“What’s that?” She drew back.
He heard it now too, and his cheeks heated with awareness at the deep rumble in his chest. “My mating trill. It seems my inner dragon finds you irresistible.”
“I like it, although it’s hard to believe that the massive beast I saw outside the gate is somehow inside you.” She rested her ear against his chest, her hot breath warming his nipple through his tunic. Even if he’d wanted to hide his true feelings for her, he couldn’t have suppressed the resulting purr. His body’s response to her was like the wagging tail of a dog. Instinctual. Immediate. She sent fire through his veins.
He gathered her hair in his hands and brushed his lips against her ear. “I am the dragon. In some ways, my beast is more me than this form. That part of me though tends to think in more simple terms. When my inner dragon is hungry, he eats, when thirsty, he drinks, and when he wants a woman, wants her to behis, forever….”
“Forever?”
“My feelings for you run deep. Maybe deeper than you are ready to hear.”
Her cheeks pinked. Twisting in his lap, she locked her eyes on his, bottomless pits of blue under heavy lids. “I think I feel what your dragon wants.”
How could she not? He was as hard as iron under her. His hand drifted along her back and around her bottom. Encouraged by her soft sound of contentment, he rubbed languid circles there, grazing the tips of his fingers along the space between her thighs.
“Have you cast a spell on me, Medea? I find myself enthralled by you. More deeply so than ever in my years.”
Her lips caressed his, and he felt her smile against his teeth. “You’ve caught me. I’ve used all my witchy wiles to ensnare you, and now you are mine.”
Mine.His dragon coiled and stretched inside his skin at the word. But Tavyss’s logical mind snagged on a different one.Witchy. Did Medea know what she was? Did she realize she was a witch?
He opened his mouth to ask her about it but was cut off by the deep sound of a man’s voice calling her name. She scrambled off him. “I must go.”
“Why? Who is that?”
“My father,” she said. “It’s late. I haven’t done my chores.” She started toward the sound, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Tomorrow? Here again?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away.”
“Then I will watch for you all day,” he whispered sincerely.
“Tomorrow.” She nodded. Her fingers slipped from his and she was gone.
