Page 8 of Sasquatch Love Spell

The banshee part, anyways.

Banshees were harbingers of bad luck.

The last thing that had been on her mind was sex, but then Adam had come crashing out of the woods. He had taken care of her. He was kind, gentle, and she knew how she affected him.

She had seen his hard-on straining against his jeans and it made her wet with need.

When she fell asleep on his bed, wrapped up in his furs, his scent permeated her brain. Weaved itself into her blood and she woke up aroused. Her body aching with longing, but Adam was gone. She wanted him. Only him, and all she had to do was picture his face to know where he was.

She had been there for a few moments, hovering like mist and watching him undress. She had gotten a good eyeful of what made human women abandon their previous lives and stay with their Sasquatch captors. And she imagined what it would be like to have that cock inside her, her pussy clenched around it, as it filled her.

Stretched her.

Maybe having him scent her wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

A rush of heat flowed through her again.

Adam was still in the water, staring up at her. She could smell his arousal. His spicy musk, not even diluted by the water. There was a potent magic in the air and she craved it, just as much as she hungered for him.

“What did you say?” he asked carefully.

“I want to take you up on the offer to scent me.”

Adam slowly made his way out of the lake. Rivulets of water running down over muscled, hairy body. His cock hard and jutting up, begging to be ridden. Her pulse quickened as she tried not to stare at him. He tied back his wet hair.

“I only offered to protect you. I do not want to force you.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re running and scared,” he stated, not moving, but his golden eyes were glowing.

“I am running, but scared? No. I’m not. I’m more annoyed that my life has so little value to the Tuatha Order that I’m being used as a commodity.” Aoife took a step toward him, her body flushing with heat and with a need like she had never experienced before.

Witches would often react this way with a true mate, or so the legend said, but she had never experienced it. Her grandmother had said it was like that for her ancestor who had mated with Death.

Seized with a crazy lust.

And that’s when the banshee part infiltrated their bloodline.

Aoife knew what she wanted. And she wanted Adam in this moment.

Yeah, she was annoyed that she was being hunted by her own kind to be sold off into marriage to Prince Ivar, as if her life and making her own choices was worthless.

The Order’s expectations, their demands really pissed her off, but none of that mattered in this moment. She wanted Adam. This was her choice. It might be poor timing as she was on the run, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little sexual release with a handsome, gentle Sasquatch. He was different than any other male magical being she’d ever seen or been with.

Adam was so close, she could hear his quick breathing and feel the heat coming off his body. She reached out tentatively and ran her fingers lightly down his chest, causing him to suck in a deep breath, a little growl rumbling deep in his chest.

A shudder of anticipation raced through her, her nipples hardening.

Oh yeah.

She wanted this.

“I’m sorry that you’re being used like that,” Adam said, his voice husky. “You should not be treated that way.”

“Exactly. It’s why I ran away. I’m in control of my body.”

No matter what stupid claim her coven had on her. She participated in the rituals because she chose to be a part of them, like Beltane, where she was hunted by an unknown underworld male in a mask. She had been masked too.