Visions of Skyfire

Chapter 45

Teresa made the best use of her time once Rune took off to do his security thing.

She turned her mind away from the fact that she was all alone out in the middle of a jungle, filled with God only knew what kinds of animals and bugs, and focused instead on the moon overhead. Her grandmother had always taught her that witches were rejuvenated by the moon.

What better time to awaken her own mystical connection to the magic? She had learned as a child that the best time for casting moon spells was when the moon was waxing—growing toward its fullness. The time when the moon was waning, slowly fading away and losing its brilliance, was less powerful.

She glanced skyward and saw the waxing half-moon as a thin layer of clouds parted, displaying its pale creaminess against a black sky. Standing up, Teresa took a step or two away from the fire, then lifted her arms high, cupping her hands as if to catch the silvery light in her palms.

She tipped her head back, watched that moon shining down on her through the dancing limbs of the trees and whispered the long-ago chant she had learned from her abuela.





Sister moon, shine for me.

Mother moon, hear my cry.

Sister moon, I call on you

To share your magic and mystery.





She inhaled slowly, deeply, feeling the warm, humid air fill her lungs with the scents of nature. She drew strength from her surroundings as the moon seemed to pulse in the sky. Silvery light dropped like rain to where she stood, enveloping her in a glow that fed her soul and spirit.

Smiling, Teresa sighed as magic slid through her veins, bubbling, frothing, filling her with an incredible wash of something mystical and ancient. She recognized it and welcomed its return.

“Oh, my goddess …” she whispered, her voice no more than a sigh on the wind that lifted her hair into a tangle around her head. The stars seemed to spin in the sky as the moon continued to throb along with the beat of her heart.

Such a connection. How had she ever managed to live without this incredible sense of well-being? Her body hummed, every cell bristling with life and burning with need. The wash of moonlight brightened all around her and Teresa felt like a pillar of light in a sea of darkness.

The moon’s essence deepened in her, swelling, growing, until she felt like an overfilled bucket and the magic was literally pouring from her in a stream that couldn’t be stopped. And along with her power, her body awakened. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples so sensitive that even the delicate contact with her lacy bra was nearly painful. She hungered for her mate.

Her center was damp and hot and her legs trembled as sensation pumped through her. It was as if she had turned on a faucet, opening herself to the moon, and now she had no idea how to turn it off. More and more of the mystical energies filled her until she trembled with the onslaught and had to fight for breath.

She swayed unsteadily in that pillar of light as the moon reached for its child, as if it were as hungry for the connection as Teresa had been. A door opened in her mind and the past rushed forward, image after image, demanding to be seen, recognized, accepted. She closed her eyes against the frenzied clip show her brain was presenting her with.

But these memories would no longer be ignored. Visions rose up and faded away in a timeless yet hurried slide show. She saw herself across the ages, changing from one lifetime to the next. She watched as the witch she had been took part in that last spell. Watched as demons poured through the opened gate to hell.

Teresa screamed and the images changed. She was a woman in London, a servant in Venice, a wife in Holland. More lives remembered and then cast away. More times with Rune. Always Rune. He was there, in the captured photographs in her memory. Her warrior.

Her mate.

She was so many women in the march through time and yet she was always herself. The heart of her, the soul of her remained the same. Then one clear thought screamed into her consciousness and Teresa finally understood why he couldn’t trust her. Why he held himself back from her even as they moved forward on the most important quest either of them would ever undertake.

She’d betrayed him in the past. More than once. She had hurt him and cost herself the respect of the man she now loved more than she would ever have thought it possible to love. God, she loved him. Hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t planned to. But maybe, she thought, she’d never really had a choice in that at all. They had been destined. And destiny, she was beginning to understand, was not easily fought or ignored.

The moon scrambled her thoughts, its energy creating a tumult inside her that she simply couldn’t withstand much longer. She gasped and fell to her knees, bracing her hands on the dirt and grass in front of her. Her back bowed, her head down, she struggled to find the peace she had enjoyed when she first opened herself to the moon. But she had gone past that now and crossed a threshold. There was no peace to be found anymore—there was simply too much chaos churning inside her.

And still the moonlight entered her, like a persistent lover. Pushing into her body again and again even after orgasm had been reached, until pleasure became pain and the two became so entwined that they couldn’t be separated. She was heated, gasping, shuddering, pushed into a yearning, desperate need that left her curled on the ground whimpering with the aches rattling her body.

“Rune …” She tried to call for him, but her voice was lost in the surging pounding of her own heart. Her blood. Her core burned with an aching need that couldn’t be assuaged. Teresa reached to press one hand against her center, hoping to ease the pulsing need that throbbed incessantly within her. It didn’t help. Nothing could help, she knew, but his body, driving into hers. She literally burned for it. “Oh, God, Rune. Come back …”

“What do we have here?” A man stepped out of the thicket of darkness and was quickly followed by four more men.

Even through the blinding need, Teresa felt a jolt of fear and shock slap at her. Her eyes wheeled to the hard faces of the men leering down at her like slavering dogs over an unexpected feast. She swallowed hard, tried to scream, but she couldn’t find her voice.

The pillar of moonlight still held her in its grasp, saturating her body with the energies of the ages, but she could only moan in response. Twisting and turning on the ground, she reacted to the hunger inside her. She couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t ease the longing or her response to it, even knowing that these cold-eyed interlopers were getting off on watching her.

She fought for clarity, struggled to get a handle on the new powers crushing her. Her frenzied gaze flicked from one man to the next and found no comfort in any of their faces. They were dirty, their clothes sweatstained from life in the jungle. They were smiling, but there was no humor in their eyes. Each of them was carrying knives and guns and two of them wore bandoliers stuffed with more ammunition crisscrossed over their chests.

Bandits.

Teresa gasped in pain, clenched her thighs together against the burning need and shot the first man a wild look as his friends formed a circle around her.

Her body was vibrating, the moonlight filling her beyond her ability to control it. Her powers might erupt at any second. She felt as if she were about to explode and if she did that while these men were close, they’d all die. The way she was feeling at the moment, she wouldn’t have a problem with that. But she wasn’t a killer, so she gave them a chance.

“Stay away,” she said tightly through gritted teeth. She swallowed back another roar of pain and desperation. “I’m warning you, stay away from me.”

“If you did not want company, little witch,” the man said, his English heavily accented, “you should not have worked your magic. The moon led us to you.”

Of course it had, she thought wildly, her body thrashing as it searched futilely for release from the pulse of need crashing inside her. Magic ruled her body now, filling her up so completely that she was helpless when she most needed to be strong. She had had no idea the moon magic would be so powerful. She’d never heard of anything like this before and couldn’t explain it even to herself. She had opened her body and mind to a power that was all-encompassing, staggering in its strength.

“Hold her.” One sharp command and four men sprang into action. They pulled at her arms and legs, holding her down spread-eagled against the dirt. Firelight danced in the dark. Moonlight continued to stream from the sky. Teresa twisted and turned, trying to break their grip, trying to call down the lightning before they could go through with their plan.

But her power was too knotted inside her to be called so easily. There were too many sensations, too many thoughts, too much fear and no time to sort through it all. She jolted as the leader of the little band knelt in front of her and pulled out a machete stained with old blood.

“Don’t!” She groaned the word, unable even to scream for the tight hold the moonlight had on her. “Don’t do this. I warn you.”

“You warn me?” He laughed and slid the razor-sharp tip of the machete beneath the hem of her jeans. With a flick of his wrist, the blade sliced through the denim with a whisper. The man grinned and continued to slice until the blade had reached her hip and her bare leg was open to the kiss of the warm, thick air.

“You are not in charge here, little witch,” he promised, his eyes fixed on the expanse of skin he’d displayed.

Rune! She sent out the mental scream, hoping that somehow he would hear it. But she knew in her heart that they were not connected mentally. Not yet. He couldn’t hear her thoughts. If he could, he would already be here, tearing into these men like an avenging angel.

Their grasp on her wrists and feet tightened and Teresa’s stomach fisted into an icy ball of dread and fear.

The leader ripped off her ruined jeans and warmth snaked across her skin even as the pebbled dirt beneath her scraped at her flesh. Still she fought, battling the moonlight magic for control of her body as she struggled to free herself from the relentless grip of the men holding her down.

The men laughed and Teresa struggled even harder. “Don’t do this,” she muttered. “You’ll be sorry if you do this.”

Now the leader laughed, delighted at her threats. “Will you do a spell on me, bruja? I don’t think so …” He reached for the elastic band of her panties, twisting his grubby fingers in the fabric.

In the next instant, the moonlight vanished. The pillar of light was gone as if it had never been and darkness enveloped all of them. She heard one of the men mutter a choked-off prayer, but the leader was not to be denied.

He gave a harsh order in Spanish. Just to the right of them, the river roared. Bugs clattered and a monkey high in the trees screamed. In the blackness, hands fisted tighter around her limbs and Teresa felt as if she had been swallowed by evil. There was no way out. She couldn’t fight them. Rune wasn’t here. And wouldn’t come back in time.

Would they kill her when they were finished with her? Was she going to die in this jungle, leaving her life, her quest, unfulfilled?

No, damn it.

She wasn’t going to die. She was going to find a way to survive, no matter what.

Rune would come.

Holding on to the mental image of him, she called on the last shred of her inner strength, focused her power and screamed, “Rune!”