The Raven Chronicles Ch. 02

Magic stroked her skin, traced her curves, and pulsed into her in waves, filling her, sending shafts of desire all the way to her core. What felt like hands trailed down her belly, barely touching, sending shivers of desire through her.

She parted her thighs, the magic swirling and pressing against her center, slow and sweet. Raw energy filled her, so tight and heavy. Deeper and more intimate than any sex with a man. The lust grew more intense, taking her hot and hard, over and over, faster and faster.

The first of the men the Baobhan Sith preyed on succumbed, then the others fell, one after another. Their deaths added the final power she needed.

The pleasure and magic crested, rushing in like a tsunami as the standing waves in the sea dropped and the whirlpool shattered, forcing the last of the magic to empty into her. White fire rippled over her skin, and warmth spread through her stomach and chest, out into her limbs until her fingers and toes tingled.

As her orgasm went on, she gathered the energy in the hall, pulling what she wanted. Hunting instincts from the Baobhan Sith. The ability to create storms from the Blue Men of the Minch. Some foretelling talents from the Bean-nighe. Lightning from the dragon, Beithir-nimh. Shape-shifting from the kelpies. The orgasm of a virgin goddess. A touch of spell casting and life from herself.

Carefully, Beira crafted the magic into a tiny ball, gave it sentience, and released it on a gentle whirlwind. Storm clouds moved southwest, across Alba and the sea, toward Inisfail Fae.

Above enemy territory, the storm sought a way through the mystical fogs. Forks of lightning struck, and there... in the sky, a rift. Her spell working perfectly. The cloud drifted through, carrying the ball of magic. She directed the wisp toward the black edifice of Raven Castle. Spiraling up the stairs, Beira sent the magic under Shisti's door, but her room was empty.

Beira spun her magic out of a window and rose up the side of a tower to peer into Fechin's room. Maybe Shisti had finally made some progress. But there was a different woman in Fechin's bed.

Disdain rose in her. Shisti should have been rid of her competition long ago. Her daughter always had too soft a heart. Happiness required the ruthlessness to take it and keep it. A lesson she'd hoped her daughter would have learned by now. Twisting downward, Beira let her senses open, spreading her cloud thin. There. Shisti wasn't far away.

She lay over a table, arms bound over her head, while the wrong brother thrust into her. What was Shisti's game? Perhaps her visions had changed and Fechin didn't become king anymore.

Beira guided the ball of magic to Shisti's womb, only to find it already occupied -- by a boy with magic that felt like wolf. So Vilkos was to be king, not Fechin.

That change in circumstances didn't alter Beira's plan. Coaxing the magic to take form settled her magic against the boy. This child would be a girl, naturally.

And when she was born first, someday the Raven Throne would return to a queen.