Free Birthing Ella Bandita by Montgomery Mahaffey Page B

magnetism that was unusual for women. Her features were as savage as ever, but the ugliness now suited the girl and made her presence devastating. When she strode into his Caverns with the strut of an outlaw, the Sorcerer was overwhelmed with pride for his creation. She was a masterpiece.
    Then there was their coupling. He never experienced anything quite like her. From the first night, she plunged into the realm of fantasy with an abandon that was breathtaking. And the pleasure that was already exquisite became indescribable when the girl showed initiative and nurtured her unique expression in the subtleties of physical love. This was the only time a seduction borne from illusion became passion that pulsed with a life of its own. The Sorcerer cherished this chance to forget who and what he was, succumbing to the allure of being a man taking possession of his woman, only to want her more after his craving was satisfied. No conquest ever had this effect on him.
    It was dangerous to don the essence of another man.
    The morning the Sorcerer saw how little was left of the ruby liquid, a melancholic stupor weighed on his limbs when he slid that vial back in the rack and chose a deep green. He would never feel that way again once the Trainer was used up. Yet the Sorcerer prepared his lesson with the object of introducing another lover, hoping he hadn’t waited too long.
    Then his prot_g_e was late. By the time he heard the near silent footfall on the stairs, he was nearly convinced she wasn’t coming. There was no relief to his unease when he saw her. The girl was different tonight. She was almost beautiful with her cheeks flushed and her eyes glimmering. And the Sorcerer sensed a current running through her, so strong the air around the girl was palpating. She was excited about something. But the cause of her excitement had nothing to do with him or the Trainer’s essence.
    But she settled into the sofa as always, and the Sorcerer pulled the tapestry. The subject was one he’d already taught about positions for the body that would pleasure the woman no matter the skill of her lover. He planned to segue in the middle and introduce the need for a seductress to know many men, but the girl noticed immediately. She folded her arms and frowned, tapping her foot until he was distracted from talking.
    “You spoke about this a couple of months ago,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”
    “Of course I do, but this lesson has another conclusion.”
    She cocked one brow and smirked.
    “I’m familiar with these positions as you know, so why don’t you conclude now?”
    Startled, the Sorcerer couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt awkward pulling the vial from his pocket, but disguised his uncertainty with flair, sweeping the essence to the torch where the vial glowed emerald in the light of fire. The richness of the color lent him a moment of optimism. Perhaps this would be another form of ardor.
    “This came from a man celebrated for his poetry when he was alive,” he said.
    The girl raised her brows, yet remained quiet.
    “He was tormented as I recall, but very passionate. He was also handsome and revered the feminine mystique. I think you’ll be pleased with him.”
    “Why should I be?”
    “I admit I should have mentioned this some time ago. But a seductress is wise to have many lovers.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “This is part of our agreement,” he countered. “You are more than ready to-”
    “You have nothing left to teach me, do you?”
    Her question caught him unawares. But she was right. So exhilarated he’d been with his gifted student, he’d lost sight of his plan, teaching her in six months what he meant to pass on over many years. The girl leaned back in the blood red velvet of the golden sofa, her wide mouth curved in a closed smile and the Sorcerer cursed himself a fool. She was perfectly still, but he could sense that restlessness, which hadn’t been in her the previous