I Burn For You
by Mercy Loomis
The song “I Burn For You” by The Police copyright 1993 A&M Records Ltd.
Smashwords Edition
Ebook released 2011 by Mercy Loomis
This ebook by Mercy Loomis is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivitives 3.0 license. You are free to share, copy, distribute, and transmit the work, but you must attribute the work to Mercy Loomis. You may not use this work for commercial purposes and you may not alter, transform, or build upon the work without the express written permission of Mercy Loomis.
More information at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead (or undead), is entirely coincidental.
I browsed idly through Kary's bookshelves while I waited for her to finish whatever she was doing. I never claimed to understand why it takes women so long to get ready to go out, even if just to a movie; I'd simply learned to plan on arriving half an hour sooner than I would to pick up any of my guy friends.
Not that any of the guys were at home. I stifled my irritation. Could I help it that there was a Badger game the same day as I got an unexpected raise? I wanted to celebrate a little, but all I got was "Sorry, Jake, got plans already. Tomorrow?"
As usual, the only one of my friends as sportsophobic as me was Kary. Drinks-and-a-Movie was becoming something of a tradition.
When she finally emerged from her inner sanctum, I was flipping doubtfully through the pages of a tome titled The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation. It was a baffling array of seemingly random bits of inscription and crude hand-drawings.
"What the hell is this?" I asked absently, turning the book sideways to try and make sense of the picture.
Kary peered over my shoulder, the scent of her vanilla and jasmine shampoo wafting past my nose. "That's a love spell."
I snorted a laugh. "Poor schmuck probably would've been better off with flowers than this nonsense."
Kary took the book from me, flipping the page to read the rest of the inscription. "Considering it sounds like the woman he was trying to attract was married, I'd wager the spell was the better bet."
"But they don't work," I protested.
She glanced up at me, her almond-shaped eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sure they work, if you do it right."
"Bullshit."
"I'm serious. They really aren't that difficult."
I watched her put the book back in its place. "What, you think you could do a love spell?"
A note of irritation crept into her tone. "I am a witch, you know. But it's bad karma to do love spells without the person's consent."
"So you can't." She and my sister Stacy were all about that mumbo jumbo in high school, but Stacy had grown out of it fairly quickly. I'd assumed Kary had as well.
Kary turned and crossed her arms over her chest. "I can. I just don't. Not without consent."
"Prove it." I knew I was being an ass, but I was in a lousy mood. Teasing Kary had been a favorite pastime of mine since we were kids, and it always made me feel better. "I bet you couldn't do a love spell on me even with my consent."
Kary raised an eyebrow. "I bet I could. Loser pays for the movie tickets?"
"Done." I spread my arms. "Hit me."
Laughing, Kary shook her head. "It takes a little more preparation than that, Jake. Help me move the couch."
We shoved all of her furniture against the walls, making her tiny living room seem much larger, though with all the curtains drawn and the windows shut, the atmosphere was close and isolated even with the extra space. She left me sweeping up stray dust bunnies while she was, once again, doing mysterious arcane woman stuff in her bedroom.
Trust Kary to set me to doing chores, I grumbled to myself good-naturedly, although I did find it odd that she'd blessed the broom first. "Sweep away negativity and old ways of thinking," I mimicked under my breath, reaching for the dustpan. "More likely you just didn't want to sit on this crap, since there's nowhere to sit but the floor."
Kary's bedroom door opened just then, startling me into nearly dropping the dustpan. She emerged barefoot, wrapped snuggly in an oversize red silk robe, balancing a tray loaded with bottles and candles and little boxes. Kneeling on the floor near the center of the cleared space, Kary began arranging her mystic bric-a-brac while I ditched broom, pan, and dirt.
"Leave your shoes and socks in the kitchen," she warned me as I headed back.
"Is the way to a man's heart through his feet?" I balanced precariously on one foot and undid my shoelaces.
The glare she shot me indicated that she didn't find my humor amusing. "Come sit here when you're ready." She indicated a bit of floor just in front of her.
I'm not normally a barefoot-in-other-people's-houses kind of guy. Padding silently across the hardwood, I found myself feeling off balance, uneasy, as if I'd left something important behind that I shouldn't have forgotten. I shrugged the feeling away as a psychological trick and sat down cross-legged.
Kary'd set a few show pieces up; a ceramic cup full of water, an unlit red candle, a cone of incense in a pierced metal holder, a tiny dish of salt. I vaguely remembered them explaining it all to me years ago, but I hadn't paid much attention. All I could think now was that this "ancient" love spell looked pretty modern so far.
"Oh, almost forgot." Jumping up, she scurried over to her computer. A few clicks later, music began to play through the living room speakers, soft guitar chords I couldn't quite place until Sting began to croon.
"I don't remember seeing The Police listed in your little Greek recipe book," I told her wryly as she settled back down.
"It's not the exact spell, but it uses the same principles," she replied with airy confidence. "Do I still have your consent for this?"
"You betcha."
She smiled, a vixen on the prowl. "Then give me four hairs from your head, please."
"Four?" I raised an eyebrow, tugging the short strands from my scalp without a wince or a pause. As if that proved something. "I thought three was the magic number."
Kary wrapped three hairs in a piece of cloth and set it aside. The fourth she dropped into a shallow dish. "It is. One of them, anyway.” She poured something into the dish. Oil? “Now close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you."
Dutifully I did as she asked, unable to hide my smirk. She didn't want me to watch her fail, probably. Or maybe she'd claim I peeked at the wrong time and upset the delicate balance of the cosmos, or something. I settled in to wait, listening to the song, Kary's movements soft and almost silent as she stood and began circling around the room.
I burn for you, I burn for you, I burn for…
Kary murmured quietly as she walked, not quite singing, but matching her cadence to the music. I strained to hear but could only catch the occasional word, especially once the "oo whoa" started. She walked a quarter circle, stopped, walked another, stopped. The song came to its abrupt end just as she came back opposite me, where she had started.
North, I thought, trying to remember if that meant anything. She started in the north, so I'm in the south.
I heard her bend down, her shadow cutting across the flickering candlelight. "Keep your eyes closed," she said. "May I touch your face?"
"Sure." I shrugged.
Her thumbs pressed lightly against my closed eyelids, cool and wet, her fingertips tracing lightly over my brow, moving outward from the center of my forehead. The scent of the oil filled my nose, all at once sharp and spicy and pungently earthy.
"See truly, with vision unclouded by past or future." Her breath was warm against my skin except where the oil was. The air made those places flare cold, crisp and invigorating.
I heard her turn away and move back to her starting point, saying "You can open your eyes now."
I blinked, the oil making my eyelids feel unusually thick and heavy, the strange, enticing scent of it strong enough it made my head swim a little. The first thing I saw was Kary's naked ass as she walked around the little tray and its mystical clutter. Her skin was beautiful, flawless, like dusky buttercream, and her generous hips swayed slightly in time to the music. I couldn't stop staring at the delicate crease where buttock met thigh, and the dark mystery between, which rose and became the cleft of her ass, and from there the sweeping expanse of her lower back; then she was turning, graceful and languid, facing me, and I tried to meet her gaze but couldn't get higher than her breasts. Dear God, those lovely, perky breasts with their deep brown nipples, their curve just right for a man's palm. My hands twitched.
I'd seen her in a bathing suit quite recently, but I hadn't seen her naked since we were all too little to know better, and I barely remembered it. Was this really the Kary I'd grown up with, my little sister's best friend? She’d always been pretty, but when had she turned into such a fox? I swallowed hard.
Kary ignored me, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her robe lay discarded on the floor, a pool of shocking color that framed her body as she knelt on the silk, knees parted slightly, bending over her altar so that her breasts rocked gently against her ribs. I shook my head, blinking hard, trying to recover some semblance of self control, but the oil seemed to make my whole head heavy, and Kary's every swaying movement snapped my gaze back to her chest. The zipper of my jeans bit into me uncomfortably, and I wondered how my head could feel so heavy when all the blood that was supposed to be in it was obviously elsewhere.
From the edges of my vision I watched her graceful hands. Bottles and jars clinked musically as Kary poured tiny amounts of liquid into a small ceramic dish, first passing each container over the red candle's flame. I closed my eyes again and took a few deep breaths, and even with the oil's fragrance filling my lungs, I managed to wrestle back some dignity. It's not like you've never seen a beautiful naked girl before, even if this one was a bit of a shock, I scolded myself.
The slither of silk caught my attention, and I looked up to find Kary had moved the tray behind her and was piling her robe between us. I glanced past her, happy that I'd gotten my shit that much together, and noticed she'd kept the tray in the same orientation, in effect putting us both in the south. My eyes found the candle again, and another bit of trivia was knocked loose in my memory. Red was for the south. For fire, and passion.
"Come kneel on the robe, and take off your shirt," Kary said, fussing with something on the tray. "You don't need to be full skyclad, but I do need you shirtless."
Skyclad, right. Witch-speak for naked. I hesitated, wondering what she had planned. Not that I thought there was anything to this magic business, but this was all having a much bigger effect on me than I'd expected. I mean, Kary was practically family. I shouldn't be looking at her like this. Should I?
She glanced at me over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Forfeit?"
God, I'd never hear the end of it. I uncurled my stiff legs and knelt. "No." The word came out harsh and guttural. I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it next to me.
The music was rising toward the end of the song. Kary turned, setting the dish next to her on her left, placing the bit of cloth with my hair in it on her right. I stared at it doubtfully, the clangor of the song ringing through my head, unintelligible words shouted above the chanting, drums pounding, and this time when it came to its sudden end, Kary brought her hands together in a thunderous clap that made me jump, driving whatever thoughts I'd had right out of my mind.
My gaze flew to her face, my eyes wide and startled. Kary knelt at perfect ease, our knees almost touching, her expression a mask of serenity. The utter confidence she radiated made me feel even more unbalanced, and as the song started up once again she picked up the bit of cloth, unwrapping the three hairs. A cold sweat shivered down my back as she began to sing, twisting bits of the spell I'd been reading into the lyrics.
Jake DePere, I bind you,
May none else know your evening smile
The touch of your hand or lips
Till your love flows through me
With fire in your veins
You burn for me, you burn for
Her voice was clear and low, and the sound of her singing my name pierced me through to my marrow. She wrapped a red thread around the hairs three times, slowly, once for each of the first three lines, and then knotted it three times in the same deliberate fashion. My chest grew tight in spite of my disbelief, because when she was so sure and I was so befuddled, how could she not be right? For all of my brain's scorn, my heart quailed at the power I'd given her over me.
Till you and I are lovers
Let no other in your bed
No peaceful sleep you'll find
Till your love flows through me
Let passion rule your head
You burn for me, you burn for
She braided the little bundle into her own hair with deft fingers. Her gaze met mine and she sang the words right at me, a warning and a command and a promise all at once. I couldn't look away, her deep brown eyes swallowing me as surely as her fine black hair had swallowed up that bright red thread. She reached down with both hands to touch the little dish, and as she purred ‘Let passion rule your head’ she traced oil-slick fingers down her face to her neck, her eyes fluttering closed, freeing me to watch as she left shining trails down her throat, to her chest, looping around into two great swirls over her breasts, dragging her fingers over those tight, proud little nipples. I ached to touch her, to follow those paths she'd laid out before me, so hard I could barely think. My ragged breath caught fast in my throat even before she started the next verse.
Let no breath pass your sweet lips
Nor fleeting thought take purchase
Until desire consumes
And your love flows through me
Kary dipped her fingers in the oil again and traced the same lines down my face, my neck. The oil was warm and smelled of jasmine and vanilla and ylang ylang, and more things I couldn't name. The oil didn't cool, but grew hotter as if it were calling fire from my blood. Her touch was so light, skimming over my skin, but it made me feel tight, contained—bound, I couldn't help but think—so that my whole body throbbed under her fingers. God, if I didn't get out of these damn jeans soon I would die. I was shaking with that feeling, trembling as I fought to stay in control, but my hands hovered just over her hips as if they weren't sure whether to start up or down. I tried to bring them back to my sides but they wouldn't obey me. Kary brushed my nipples and it was like she'd stabbed me, an agony of want that shot straight to my groin. I made a noise somewhere between a whimper and moan; a tormented, pained sound.
It was hearing that sound from my own lips that let me know I had lost.
Surrender to my spell
And burn for me, and burn for me
And burn...
I couldn't remember why I shouldn't surrender, why I should fight this need that was searing me inside and out. I grabbed her hips and pulled her tight to me, grinding myself against her, her breasts hot and soft and slick against my chest, her mouth on mine just as fierce and demanding as her hands as she unbuckled my belt. I threw back my head as she caressed me through my jeans, her nimble fingers clumsy in their haste to open button and zipper. With a growl I did it for her, ripping the clothes off my body and flinging them into the corner.
When I turned back to her, she was wiping the oil off her hands, and one glance at my face made her snatch up something else from the tray. I came to her with no thought in my head but the need to wrap myself up in her, to quench this inferno in the depths of her body. She kissed me again, and the roaring of blood in my ears nearly drowned out the crinkle of cellophane. My stomach muscles seized hard when she took me in her hand and rolled the condom over the head of me. I broke off the kiss with a gasp and moaned her name, clutching at her arms half to keep myself upright and half to make sure she didn't go anywhere.
She gave a pleased growl, one hand leaving me to pick up a bottle of oil. "I've wanted to hear you say my name like that for so long, Jake."
Cool liquid poured over my sheathed erection and she stroked me once, twice. I shuddered, close to the edge, so hot I half expected to hear the oil sizzling on my skin. I gave myself to her at that moment, kissing her hard, pressing her down into the nest of silk, her thighs opening for me and God, if I was hot she was on fire, warm and tight and wet as I slid into her. Kary writhed under me and wrapped her slim legs around my hips, one of her hands pulling at my shoulders, digging into my back, her breathless whispers urging me on as I began to thrust. Her other hand slipped between us, her fingertips brushing against me, the vibration of her movements making my nerve endings sing. I grit my teeth, not wanting to come too soon, but I was so close, so close…
"God, Kary, please!" I gasped.
She cried out, tightening around me like a vise, her every muscle suddenly taut and quivering. The orgasm exploded through me, my voice rising with hers, outpacing the music's crescendo, the sounds all mixing into one glorious cacophony.
I collapsed next to her, panting for breath, my body still thrumming from the strength of the sensations. Kary cuddled up to me and I put my arm around her, staring up at the dim ceiling. The song began to play again, but this time the lyrics were just words, powerless and faded.
Something tickled my nipple. I looked down to see Kary brushing the little bundle of hair and thread over my chest. I shivered with awe and disbelief and desire, but Kary only laughed.
"Still don't believe in magic?" she teased, her eyes sparkling.
"I…I believe in you." I stroked the soft skin of her shoulder, her arm, loathe to admit I'd been so well played.
Grinning, Kary rolled over and made as if to thrust the talisman into the candle flame.
"Wait!" I spoke before I could stop myself. What if there was something to this after all? What if I went back to not being able to see past my sister's best friend? I wanted to explore this beautiful woman next to me, to learn all those features I had apparently never seen. Was she done with me so quickly?
Kary's grin softened, and she kissed my nose. "It's just some hair and thread, Jake." She dropped the bundle into the flame and it vanished in a flash and a wiff of burned hair. Catching my face between her hands, Kary kissed me long and slow, until I knew without a doubt that the child I remembered her to be had been left far behind.
Kary broke away with a delighted gasp. "You owe me a movie, you know."
I rolled us both over until she was straddling my waist, my erection pressed against her stomach. "How about tomorrow?"
With a purr like a contented cat, Kary leaned down. "Tomorrow," she agreed, and kissed me.
About the Author
Mercy Loomis grew up in a haunted house, and has had quite enough of ghosts for one lifetime, thank you. Though she now lives in a 150-year-old house, it is remarkably ghost-free. (That, or they’re staying on the down-low. She doesn’t care which.)
Mercy finished writing her first vampire novel when she was in middle school, and hasn’t stopped writing about them since. She loves stories about the paranormal because monsters are scary, but less scary than real people. Or at least less depressing.
Mercy graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison one class short of an accidental certificate in Folklore. She credits her love of mythology to her mom reading Greek myths as bedtime stories, and her love of fantastical adventure stories to watching cheesy movies with her dad. Her love of history (and coffee!) is completely her husband’s fault, but she doesn’t know who’s to blame for the fascination with physics.
She guesses that hanging out with Dad while he butchered deer also had an effect on her character, but exactly what effect, she leaves up to the reader.
See what Mercy’s up to and find links to her other work at www.mercyloomis.com.