She swallowed against the bitterness in her throat. "I thought you didn't believe in witches."
He brushed a sweet kiss across her mouth. "I believe in destiny."
His breath stroked her lips and made her tremble. "I'm not your destiny, Ethan." She might want to believe otherwise, but the fact he was seeing Jacinta now rather than her only proved how wrong her hopes had been.
"You are my heart, my soul."
A tear tracked down her cheek. "I'm not Jacinta."
He didn't hear her. Or maybe he chose not to hear her.
His hand entwined hers. "Kneel with me."
"We can't do this." Couldn't make whatever promise he intended to make because she wasn't the woman he really wanted. She'd been a fool to believe she ever would be.
"Kneel with me," he repeated and tugged her down in front of him.
The ground was muddy against her knees and legs, and it felt like she was going to slide backwards. It was only his grip on her spine that held her close and kept her upright.
She touched a hand to his cheek, holding his gaze with her own. Trying to reach the sanity of the man deep inside.
"I'm not Jacinta. I'm not the woman you love. Whatever it is the moon bids you to do, forget it. Let's just make love."
She pressed her mouth against his, her kiss demanding.
His response was immediate, almost harsh. His hands slid down her back and cupped her rear, pressing her hard against the heat of his erection. Then a shudder went through him, and he pulled back.
The wildness was sharper in his eyes. "Not yet."
She ran her hands between them, cupping him, caressing him. "I don't want promises, Ethan." Especially when those promises where meant for another woman. "I just want to feel you inside me."
His groan was more a growl as his mouth sought hers.
His kiss was a possession, one that left every inch of her trembling. His body thrust against hers, but he didn't take what she so readily offered. He pulled away yet again.
"There are words to be said to the moon first." His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.
She closed her eyes, but tears still squeezed past her lids.
"Don't do this. Wait until the moon fever passes."
"The moon calls for this promise. Some things cannot be fought." He touched a hand to her face again. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes. Almost drowned in the love so evident in his. Love that wasn't hers to take. She bit her lip, holding back the anguish that rose up her throat. "I'm not Jacinta. I'm not the woman you love."
"Dance with me," he said softly. Magic began to pulse across the night. His words were the start of some sort of spell, but one she'd never come across before.
"No," she choked, trying to pull away. He held her in place, his grip gentle but firm. "Ethan, stop this, before it's too late."
He didn't seem to be hearing her. "This night and the rest of our nights, for as long as the divine light shines in the evening skies. For as long as we live beneath it."
The pulsing became stronger, tingling across her mouth.
Words spilled from her lips, words she couldn't stop, "By her light, I offer you my body."
He kissed the tears from her cheeks then shifted their bodies, and the heat of him claimed her in the most basic way possible. It felt so right, and yet so wrong. Because it wasn't her he was seeing. Wasn't her he was claiming.
He began to rock inside her. She trembled, biting her lip, fighting the urge to move with him. She couldn't do this.
Had to stop him. But how, she had no idea.
"Under the divine light of the moon, I offer you my heart." His voice was a stroke of heat across her lips.
She closed her eyes. It felt like her own heart was shattering into a million pieces. "Don't," she whispered, but the magic surged, and she found herself adding, "Under her light, I offer you mine."
His rocking became stronger. It felt so good she wanted to cry. "Don't do this, Ethan. Don't make promises you'll regret when the fever is gone."
He still wasn't hearing her. Or maybe the moon's spell had him convinced he was at last making the promises he'd never had the chance to make.
Would it be so wrong to give into that dream? To pretend, just for a moment, he was seeing and making his promises to her?
Yes, she thought. It would.
He'd said he'd hate anyone who tried to trap him by becoming pregnant. Why would pretending to be someone else to gain his promises be any different?
She wasn't Jacinta. She could never hold his heart, as much as she had believed otherwise. This night, and this ceremony he seemed determined to continue, were proof of that.
"Under the divine light, I offer you my soul," he continued.
The sting of magic was becoming stronger, his movements more urgent. Sweat bathed her skin as she battled the sweet sensations rolling through her. "Don't do this. Don't say these words." Because she was certain the magic he was raising would be permanent.
She thought about pulling away again but knew it wouldn't be safe now that the spell was underway. He might not have known what sex magic was, but that was what this spell was. And like all magic, there would be proper protocols to follow in breaking it. Without knowing those, she had no hope of stopping it — not without endangering them both.
Heat and magic shimmered between them, warming the night. Warming her. He was pushing her into a place where only sensation existed, and that was dangerous. She had to keep her head. Had to watch what she said, or she might well bind herself to this man forever.
Though in many respects, there was no need of magic to do that because she already was bound to him in more ways than he would ever know.
His movements were filled with rising urgency. Deep down the tremors were beginning, spreading through her body like a wave. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh as she fought the sensations. Fought the need to just let go. Fought the words forming on her lips.
But there was no stopping them.
"By her light, I offer you mine." Moisture ran down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. Tears he didn't even see.
His thrusts became more demanding. Jolts shook her, building to a crescendo. "Oh god, Ethan, don't." But the words came out little more than a strangled groan as her body burned with the need for release.
"Then let our souls become one as our bodies have become one."
Still the words came. "Let the moon bless and rejoice in this union."
"Do you accept the gift of my seed?" he ground out. "Do you accept the promises of the night and the moon?"
His seed. That she could accept because she was already pregnant. "Yes," she gasped. "Yes."
The dance of magic seemed to explode around them, and her climax came in a rush of power that stole her breath, stole all thought and swept her into a world that was sheer, unadulterated bliss. A heartbeat later he went rigid against her, the power of his release tearing a roar from his throat that sounded so very briefly like a wolf howling her name to the moon.
He held her for one last thrust, then his lips sought hers, his kiss a lingering taste of heat.
"Let our souls become one as our bodies have become one. What the moon has joined, let no man break."
The thrum of magic muted but didn't entirely die at his words. In some ways, it felt incomplete. She hoped that meant the spell of binding — if that was indeed what it was — hadn't worked.
He kissed her nose, her forehead. His lips were warm against her skin and stirred the embers of desire to life. He was still hard inside her, and she wondered if that was the spell or simply the need of a werewolf caught by the moon.
"By the moon's divine light, let us now celebrate this union," he continued.
Magic seemed to flow through every pore of her being. It felt as if the moon itself was blessing her. Blessing them.