Can a faery witch persuade a Viking ghost that love matters more than vengeance?
A faery witch or Wytchfae, Kelly O’Day’s job is to transition ghosts to their afterlife. When she falls for sexy Viking ghost Ingvar Hrothson she breaks the rule against personal involvement.
Cursed over a thousand years ago to roam the earth as a restless spirit, Ingvar is hell bent on two things—save his sister and destroy the evil sorceress responsible for her death. He needs Kelly to help him go back in time. Hating all forms of dark power, he never dreamed he would be bewitched by a flesh and blood woman with magical powers.
Kelly and Ingvar battle sinister forces and multiple attempts on their lives. With their attraction approaching supernova, the couple must decide whether their romance of a lifetime is also worth fighting for.
Flossie Benton Rogers is a former teacher and library director. She began writing fairy tales at an early age and is grateful for the opportunity to again pursue her passion for mythology by writing romances about fairies, goddesses, demons, and other magical beings. A fifth generation Floridian, Flossie enjoys spending time with family and seeing new places. She is always on the lookout for romantic, adventurous story ideas to share with readers. She shares a home with her husband Mr. R and basset hound Daisy Josette.
Strong arms lifted her from harm’s way, as Ingvar put himself between her and the attacking gnomes. Her left shoulder burned with pain. Gingerly, she transferred her everyday carry bag to her other arm. Using her right hand, she grabbed a knife from his belt, determined to help. Slick with blood, the knife slipped in her hand. She swiped it against her pants to clean it, achieving a sturdier grip.
A quick glance behind showed several gnomes lying dead. Good for you, Ingvar. More slinked away into the mist at the edge of the bog. Better odds now.
When Kelly turned forward again, the gnome she had blinded lay hacked in half, and Ingvar sliced his sword at the other two. Reaching around him, Kelly stabbed one gnome in the eye. Its bellow echoed out into the night. Ingvar cut at the other’s eyes, and both of the attacking gnomes were down. She was glad when he hoisted the sword high above his head and chopped downward. First rule of the swamp—, make sure a cypress gnome is really dead before you turn your back on it.
Kelly peered out into the mire where she had first seen the gnomes. No more shuffled toward them, but a mass of the creatures hovered off to one side. Their bodies seemed to pulsate with the low grunts they emitted. The noise sounded like agitated bull alligators. Spotting something else in the shadows, she squinted. In the midst of the cypress gnomes stood a massive figure.
Her blood froze. Although she had never seen him in person, she knew in her gut this was Ghuillie Dhu, the Dark Man borne from the bowels of the swamp.
Kelly rubbed her wrist on Ingvar’s forearm to direct his attention. His head turned toward the spot she indicated, and she felt his body clench.
“I see it,” he whispered. “What is it?”
Kelly put her lips against his ear. “Dark Man of the Swamp. Dangerous son of a bitch.”
She tightened her grip on her knife, glad Ingvar still held his sword at the ready. If they were to be swamp fodder tonight, at least they would not go easy.
The most prudent course, though, would be to get away with no confrontation. Running full out had only invited pursuit. She settled on a slow, steady exit. “Ingvar, let’s go,” she hissed. Step by step she began to edge forward along the trail. She beckoned him to follow suit.
She should have known the stubborn Viking had other ideas. He motioned her to go. “I must stay. Warriors stand their ground.” Assuming a fighting stance with his sword raised, he roared, “You there among those filthy monstrosities, who are you to beset innocent travelers?”
Kelly groaned and turned back to await with Ingvar their inevitable doom. No way would the Dark Man take that challenge on the chin. Adrenalin made her calves feel like they were being pricked by needles. She tried to swallow, but all her spit had dried up.
Before she could blink the Dark Man stood just in front of them. She had not even seen him move. Her gaze traveled upward toward eyes that burned like red hot coals. Although he stood off the path at the edge of the water, his height still exceeded that of the giant Viking beside her by at least six inches, and he was wider by far. His appearance had manlike qualities, but such that had never been seen on earth in daylight. The smell that overpowered her senses was one of rancid swamp decay. Acid gurgled in her throat, giving her the dry heaves. She tried again to swallow. The Dark Man reminded her of an ancient rotting tree, with swamp juice in its veins, that had somehow grown sentient.
A deep sigh escaped Kelly. Feeling luxuriously content with Ingvar’s arms around her, his hands restless against her back, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Thick cobwebs clouded her mind, and she wondered if she had passed out and was dreaming or if the Dark Man had transported her and Ingvar someplace where they could be alone together. It didn’t seem to matter much as she nestled closer and breathed in the Viking’s tantalizing, uniquely male scent that aroused her deepest female sensuality. His chest felt taut beneath her cheek. She craned her neck and pressed her lips to the warm column of his throat. Real, oh my goddess, so deliciously real. She nipped at his flesh, thrilling to the sound of his indrawn breath.
The brush of his mouth against her ear elicited a gasp, and shivers of electricity danced across her heated skin. She didn’t realize the hollow of her collarbone was such a sensitive spot until his fingers lingered there, his mouth following. Her breath became erratic when his hand moved down to cup her breast. Her nipples hardened in response, and the soft lace of her bra felt confining. His legs tightened against hers, and she trembled when he squeezed her bottom. She reveled in the heat of his body as he gathered her closer. His increasingly fevered movements added flickers of flame to her already stirred senses.
Her hip moved restlessly beneath his hand, and the soft flesh of her belly burned when the backs of his fingers dipped into the rim of her pants. She curled her leg around his thigh and adjusted herself to his masculine body. A startled moan escaped her as she became aware of his erection. She undulated, experiencing a delightful witchy decadence. That her touch aroused him heightened her sense of feminine power.
“Kelly.” Rough and ragged, he whispered her name.
“Are we drunk?” she whispered.
“I have been drunk on you since the first moment I saw you.”
“How did we get here, Ingvar?”
“The Dark Man’s doing, I wager.”
She rubbed her body against his.
“Kelly, if you keep on doing that…”
“What will you do, Ingvar?”
He groaned. “Explode.”
She fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers.
Clutching her wrists, he lifted her hands up to his shoulders. “Sweetling, our first moments together like this…let me pleasure you.” His mouth came down fully on hers, sweeping her up into intensifying flames.
She was dimly aware of his hand wrenching at the zipper of her pants, and then slipping inside her silk panties to her heated core. In moments his deft fingers had her thrashing in his arms while his mouth and thrusting tongue continued their honeyed siege.
She broke away from his lips and whimpered. “Ingvar, it’s t-too much. I’ll…”
“Not yet, sweetling. Not just yet. When it happens, I want you to remember it.” He used the palm of his hand to gentle her, before beginning to stroke again.
With his free hand, he lifted her blouse. She arched her back when his tongue encircled a lace adorned nipple.
Fire blazed up her spine.
He kissed his way back up to her trembling lips. Plunging inside her mouth, his tongue moved in deep rhythm with the strokes of his fingers below.
Under his touch, Kelly shattered into a million pieces.
Get Your Copy of Wytchfae Runes
Secret Cravings Publishing http://bit.ly/QGL2tD
Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/Y11U1f
Find Flossie on the Web