MagicalMistakes by Victoria Davies Page B

blindly up at the night sky and knew this was a man she
wanted to be able to touch for the rest of her life.
    “I need you,” he growled against her skin.
    She nodded her agreement, wiggling against his cock.
    His hands dropped to her waist. One finger teased along her
folds, delving into her.
    “You’re so wet,” he breathed.
    “You have that effect.”
    He smiled against her breast. “Good.”
    With a last playful touch he withdrew his hand and fitted
his cock against her opening.
    Mikayla spread her legs eagerly. “Now,” she pleaded.
    Gripping her hips, Ciar surged into her.
    This time there was no stopping the cry he wrung from her.
Ciar withdrew to the tip before thrusting into her again. Mikayla arched under
him, ready to meet each stroke. Wrapping her arms around him she moved to his
rhythm.
    His hot breath burned against her throat as he sank into
her. Mikayla bent her legs to pull him deeper, groaning at the sensation. She
tightened her inner muscles on him and heard his growl of pleasure.
    “Again,” he ordered against her ear.
    She was more than happy to comply. They moved together in
synchronized motion, as if each could predict how the other would move. She
wrapped her arms around him as he drove into her, each thrust taking her
higher.
    Mikayla wanted to beg for more, wanted to tell him how close
she was but there were no words. Nothing mattered but the rocking of their
bodies.
    So close , she thought, her teeth scraping against his
shoulder. More, more, more.
    With a last strong thrust she shattered. Mikayla’s cry rang
through the night as her orgasm crashed over her. She heard his answering roar,
felt his body stiffen above her. The sight of him, his head thrown back in
pleasure, was seared into her memory.
    He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. She wanted to
speak but her body was still riding the aftermath. All the tension, the worry
she’d been carrying around washed away. Now her body was languid and relaxed.
She’d had no idea what she was missing.
    “You are incredible,” Ciar said, dropping a kiss on her
naked shoulder.
    She turned to meet his black-eyed gaze. “We’re incredible.”
    A soft smile curved his lips.
    Mikayla twisted to her side to face him. She trailed one
finger along his lips. “Don’t you see that? We’re incredible. Together.”
    His gaze met hers and he didn’t deny the words—she was
acutely aware that he didn’t confirm them either.
    “Why do you hate my kind?” she whispered. It wasn’t the
question she’d meant to ask. She’d wanted to bathe in the peaceful glow of
their embrace a little while longer. But now the words were said and she
couldn’t go back.
    Instead of the anger she’d expected, pain washed over his
face. “Teivel died a few weeks before I moved into town.”
    She frowned, wondering what that had to do with his disgust
of her kind.
    “He was a strong warrior, my brother. No demon could
challenge him. So one of his enemies hired an outsider to do the job.”
    Her breath froze in her chest.
    “Witches killed my brother.”
    The words were said simply, without any damning anger, but
she knew what they meant. Knew the final nail in her coffin when she saw it.
They had no chance. In the heat of the moment she might have been able to
pretend they belonged together, but if witches had killed his brother it was a
crime he’d never forgive. One of her people had done something terrible to one
of his. He had a good reason to loathe what she was.
    She dropped her gaze, her heart cracking. She should have
left him alone all those months ago, should have thought that he might have a
valid reason to despise her. How could he have stood being with her these few
days? How could he hold her now?
    “Hey,” he said softly, tilting her face back up to his. “It
was not your crime.”
    “I’m a witch,” she whispered. “How can you move past that?”
    His fingers traced over her cheek. “I didn’t think I could.”
    She tried to draw