Eve Langlais - A Ghostly Ménage

Copyright© 2010 Eve Langlais

Heart pumping…legs pounding… A joyful howl burst from his throat, an eerie sound echoed by his brother who raced alongside him through the woods that were their second home. The other night creatures scattered before their headlong flight. No one wished to get in the way of the two who ruled the forest.

All too soon, the edge of the trees rushed up to meet him and he skittered to a halt, his tongue lolling as he panted from exertion. He bayed one last time, sitting on his haunches, facing the bright, fat moon. When the last throaty sound faded, Derrick and his brother shifted back into human form, their annual Halloween run leaving them sweaty but exhilarated. Their clothes still lay on the ground where they’d shed them before their shift, and they dressed in companionable silence before crossing the open yard to their house.

On the porch, the candle in their jack-o-lantern had burned out, and the sweet smell of cooking pumpkin made his nose twitch. The bowl of candy they’d left on the porch was empty. Derrick smiled. He loved Halloween, and just because his inner wolf loved to come out and play didn’t mean the kids shouldn’t get their share of candy. And he always made sure he and his brother bought the primo stuff-full-sized chocolate bars. They never worried about their house getting egged or toilet papered.

His brother’s body stilled. “There’s someone here,” said Mark, his hand on the knob of their front door.

Derrick’s smile faded at his words. He sniffed the air. Over the odor of burnt pumpkin and outdoor autumn smells, he scented a familiar cloying perfume.

With a growl, he shoved his brother aside and flung open the front door they never kept locked. The smell filled the house, overwhelmingly so. She dared to come into our home without an invitation? The effrontery astounded him, and totally pissed him off.

Charging up the stairs, he followed the bitch’s scent right into his bedroom. She squirmed under his sheets and smiled at him with heavy lids. The stench of her arousal as she pleasured herself drifted to him.

Derrick growled again and clenched his hands tightly at his sides lest he use them to throttle her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Clarissa said seductively, not yet recognizing the storm that simmered inside him.

“Get out of my bed,” he said through gritted teeth.

She rose with the sheet clutched to her bosom. “Join me. I’ve prepared myself for you and…your brother.” Derrick heard Mark’s sharply indrawn breath behind him.

“Fuck off.” Derrick didn’t like to mince words. That was his brother’s forte.

“You don’t mean that,” said Clarissa, the sheet barely hiding her shapely body, a form that left him cold.

“What he means to say,” said Mark, ever the diplomat, “is while you are quite attractive, we are unfortunately not interested. Thank you for your offer, though.”

Derrick snorted. The slut had just broken into their house and thrown herself at them naked. And this after they’d repeatedly rebuffed her blatant overtures. She just didn’t get it. She isn’t the one .

“Just get your clothes back on, and leave the way you came.” Or he’d gladly heave her ass out, preferably from the nearest window. Then he’d burn his sheets.

Clarissa dropped the sheet that hid her assets and proudly displayed perky breasts, an indented waist, and a bald cleft. Derrick looked her over dispassionately. She stirred nothing in him-he preferred his woman rounder, just like his brother. Their displeasure must have shown for she frowned at them. She tweaked her nipple and slid a hand between her thighs to toy with herself. They didn’t respond. With slow, sensual steps, Clarissa walked towards Derrick and his brother, a half smile curving her lips, one that didn’t match the icy fury in her eyes.

“I really wish you’d chosen differently,” she said shaking her head at them like naughty children.

“Or what?” retorted Derrick, tired of her games.

A chill wind came up out of nowhere-in the house. However, All Hallows Eve was upon them, and even in these modern times, strange forces worked on this most arcane of nights as spiritual magic reached its peak.

Clarissa raised her hands, palms upward. Her lips moved in an almost inaudible prayer. The words slipped greasily past his hearing, discordant sounds that made him wince. A heavy stink of ozone permeated the air, electrical and tingling along his senses.

Mark’s face creased with alarm. “She’s casting a spell.”

“I’d say that’s obvious.” Derrick rolled his eyes and decided to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. He reached for the witch who’d done an excellent job of hiding her true self up till now. Time to give her the bum rush.

“No!” cried his brother reaching for him.

Even as Mark grabbed his arm, Derrick’s hand connected with Clarissa’s and a lightning bolt of pain rushed through his system, making his eyes widen. The rush of power coursing through his body was excruciating and to his annoyance, he blacked out.

When Derrick regained consciousness in an ignoble heap on the floor, the witch stood over him with a smirk. “Ah, did I hurt the big bad wolf?” Her cajoling tone pissed him off.

“Bitch.” He staggered to his feet and reached for her again. His hand passed through her, a strange sensation that made him shudder, and she cackled at the look on his face.

Derrick brought his hands to his face and looked at them-and through them. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“To us?” said Mark who appeared at his side looking just as ghostly. Derrick didn’t know what astounded him more-the fact the bitch had turned them into spirits or the fact his brother actually looked mad.

Clarissa smiled and twirled with a giggle, now fully dressed. “I’ve trapped you in limbo,” she announced.

“What? So we’re dead?”

“Not exactly. Think of it as suspended in time, your bodies that is, until such a time as you come to your senses and give me what I need.”

“And what do you need?” asked Mark quietly, his tight tone the only thing that gave away his white-hot anger.

“Why, the both of you of course. Bonded to me.” She clasped her hands in front of her when she said this, her blue eyes calculating and frigid.

“Never,” snarled Derrick lunging at her again, only to convulse as he flew right through her body to land in a heap on the other side. Even freakier, his fingertips penetrated the floor. Derrick sat up, an unfamiliar emotion touching him, one he didn’t like. Fear.

Mark reverted to type and asked questions. “Why do you want to bond to us? You know we don’t love you, nor will we ever.”

“Who said anything about love? This is about power. I’m a witch, and while I have magic, I need more. By bonding to an alpha pair of weres…” Her eyes glistened and she moistened her lips. “The energy I’d have access to would make me the strongest witch in my coven and allow me to challenge the old bat who thinks to give me orders.”

Derrick saw red. How dare this sorceress think to use the mating bond to further her schemes? “Too bad, bitch. We aren’t ever going to bond with you.”

Mark nodded his head in agreement. “Your plan won’t work, Clarissa. Now release us and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Derrick rolled his eyes. Not likely. Woman or not, he’d rip her a new one as soon as they got out of this mess.