Chapter Eleven

When the door closed behind Richie, Mac turned back to Jon. "We’ll get to the topics of why he would think I’d hurt you and why you didn’t say something about needing blood later. Right now, what can I do to help you? Here’s my neck," she offered, getting down on her knees in front of his chair and tilting her head to the side.

Weakly, Jon trailed his fingers across her cheek and down her neck. "Mac, I don’t want to hurt you, and I can’t put you in a thrall to avoid that because your mind is too strong. The only other option is to bite you during sex, and unfortunately, I’m too weak for that option."

Mac knew that he needed blood or he would die. It told her a lot about the man before her that he would risk death rather than cause her pain. "Can I allow a thrall, whatever that is? Ya know, let you do it?"

"Tesoro mia, it’s not that simple. Your mind is too strong. A thrall would make you mindless, allow me to control you and your mind. It would be instinctive for your brain to rebel against that control," he told her, his voice weak.

Her mind raced with possibilities. Suddenly, she ordered softly, almost pleading, "Slip into my head and bite me, Jon. You need this."

Gently, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. Softly at first, but then his kiss became more urgent, his tongue darting past her lips to tangle with hers. Mac gave herself over to the kiss, barely noticing when his mind joined with hers. His lips left hers to trail hotly across her cheek and down her neck.

You taste so good, moglie mia, he said in her head, as his tongue stroked her jugular.

On her knees, between his muscular thighs, with her upper body resting against his chest and his arms holding her tenderly, Mac moaned softly. The sound coming from deep in her throat. With their minds joined, she was overwhelmed with not only the sensations he was causing, but also with the ones he was feeling. She shivered when his fangs grazed her neck, sending fire to every nerve ending in her body. She could tell from his own response that he was feeling what she was feeling as well. Briefly, she wondered if making love with him like this would feel as good.

It would be so much better than this, Mac, he whispered huskily in her head, just as he buried his fangs in her neck.

She only felt a slight pinch, no worse than a bee sting, her pleasure was so great. She couldn’t exactly taste her own blood, but she knew from Jon that he was enjoying it. His pleasure washed over her in waves as he drank from her greedily. Eagerly, she moved against him, one hand caressing his chest while the other trailed down to stroke his arousal through the denim of his jeans.

His pleasure at her touch combined with her own pushed her over the edge. Vaguely, she realized that he felt her climax as he thrust against her hand. Then, before her orgasm was over, she was hit with the powerful force of his. She trembled weakly against him, feeling like a leaf tossed about on a storm swept sea.

Gently, Jon laved the bite with his tongue, before trailing kisses up her neck. Thank you, moglie mia, he whispered in her head.

No, thank you, she answered him weakly, before collapsing against his chest.

Tenderly, he pulled her into his lap. Cradling her like a small child, one hand caressed her back, while the other pushed her hair back of her face. He withdrew from her mind as his fingers threaded through her hair.

"Why did Richie think I would hurt you?" she asked softly.

He spent the next few moments explaining Cecilia’s betrayal to her.

Mac quickly became angry at the long dead woman. How could she have treated him that way if she had truly loved him? No wonder he had been afraid to tell her what he was. "And Richie was afraid I was just waiting for my chance to stake you too?"

"Don’t be angry with him, Mac," Jon told her, "he was only worried about me because he’s my friend."

"I understand," she replied, even though she didn’t really. How could Richie compare her to that vile woman? She glanced up at Jon, happy to see his color had returned to normal. Briefly, she wondered how she would explain when the bite mark he had left on her neck disappeared much more quickly than it should. She realized that it was time she shared her own secrets with him.

"Jon," she said, tentatively, "there’s a few things we need to talk about."

Something in her voice told him she was afraid to tell him whatever it was. "What is it, Mac?"

She started to get up off his lap, but he tightened his arms around her, unwilling to let her go just yet. He bent his golden head to brush her forehead with a light kiss. "You don’t have to move to tell me," he whispered.

Several long minutes went by, before she finally spoke up. "I don’t know how to tell you this."

"Are you married to someone else?" he teased.

She shook her head. "No, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you." She felt Jon tense beneath her.

"About what?" he asked, his voice soft yet controlled.

"Remember that night we had dinner in your hotel room, and you asked if I was a witch?" she asked, fearfully.

"Yeah, I remember," he replied, "you said no."

"I don’t exactly like that term," she told him. She was quiet for a few seconds, building her courage, and Jon wisely kept silent waiting. Finally, she breathed, barely above a whisper, "But, technically I am."

Jon looked down at her with astonishment on his face. "What do you mean, technically?" he asked. Hoping she was literally a witch, with the abilities of said supernatural creatures, and not just what society had come to call a witch. If she was a witch in truth, she could be turned into a vamp with no mental problems, and it would also explain why she handled the truth about him so well.

"I am a witch. So is my mother, and her mother before her and so on. For at least 10 generations," she answered.

Jon knew that a witch was a broad term and that the witch in question could have any number of supernatural abilities. Not every witch had the same powers that other witches might have.

"What are your powers?" he asked, obviously intrigued.

"Foresight and the power to heal myself of minor wounds," she answered.

"Do you practice the arts?"

"No," she said, bowing her head, "I’m a huge disappointment to my mother, because I didn’t want to learn the proper art of casting spells and making potions. But, occasionally I can make things happen. I have to be careful and not speak in rhymes."

Jon thought about that first day on the plane when she had been listening to the MP3 player. She had only tapped her fingers to the tune, not mouthed the words to sing along like most people. He laughed, "You can’t even sing along with the radio, can you?"

She grinned back at him. "No, because songs usually rhyme."

He thought about the lyrics to some of his songs and then laughed out loud at the mental picture of what could happen if she sang along with him while he was on stage. It would be quite a spectacle if she started singing along to...say...Bed of Roses or... worse...My Guitar Lies Bleeding in My Arms. The image of his guitar starting to bleed on stage made him laugh even harder.

"What’s so funny?" she asked, smiling.

"I was just thinking about what would happen if you sang along with me while I was on stage," he got out between laughs.

She thought about some of the lyrics to his songs that she had heard at the shows she had attended and joined in the laughter.

Sobering, he asked her, "So, about this power of foresight, what actually happens and what do you see?"

Briefly, she explained her visions.

"That’s what happened the night in the bar, when Richie had to walk you to your room?"

"Yeah, I saw you sucking on a woman’s neck. Of course, I just thought it was some sort of sexual encounter and not what it actually was," she answered. "But, my visions usually leave me light-headed and physically drained."

"And the power to heal? Can you heal others?"

"No, only myself," she answered, regretfully, "there have been many times I wished I could heal others."

Jon moved her chin to the side to look at her neck where he had bitten her. Even though she had told him of her abilities, it still surprised him that the mark was gone. "It’s gone," he announced, awe in his voice.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I figured it would be, and that when you noticed there would be questions. I just decided I should come clean and tell you my secret beforehand."

"Besides your family, does anyone else know?" he asked.

"Sandy knows, and thinks it’s very cool, but when I told Daniel about my visions, he thought I was crazy and suggested I seek professional help. Needless to say, I didn’t bother to tell him the rest," she answered, sadly.

"The man was not only a liar, but a fool," Jon swore, softly.

Truly puzzled, she looked up at him to ask, "Why do you keep calling him a liar?"

"Because he lied to you and convinced you it was the truth."

"Maybe it was just his opinion," she pointed out.

"Mac," Jon said softly, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, "if it was his opinion that you weren’t beautiful, sexy and alluring, then why was he with you?" He didn’t wait for an answer, "He told you those things to keep you. He thought if he broke down your self-confidence that you wouldn’t ever leave him because you would believe no one else would want you. So, he lied to you. That’s how men like him operate."

"But he left me," she countered.

"When?"

"When I told him about my visions," she answered.

"Probably because he was afraid you would eventually ‘see’ the truth," he responded. "I hate to let you go, since you feel so good in my arms, but I really should get to work," he told her softly, before kissing her gently.

"Would it be okay if I followed you around, for my article. I mean, I am still supposed to be doing a job here," she grinned at him.

"When you ask so sweetly, how can I say no?"

********************


Jon had been answering Mac’s endless stream of questions and explaining the behind the scenes details of a concert for over an hour, when Obie told him they were ready to do sound check. Mac told him she was going to take a seat out in the arena and jot down some notes before she forgot everything he had told her.

Richie and David were arguing over who was going to "get" the little redhead who had introduced herself earlier as their promotions assistant. She worked for the local promoter and was responsible for getting them anything they might need while they were in town. Tico had just suggested they flip a coin, when Jon joined them on stage.

"Hey, Jonny," Richie said, grinning, "what’s on the agenda?"

"I don’t care," Jon answered, "I’m in a generous mood. Why don’t one of you pick something?"

"Why don’t we let the sexy little reporter with the fantastic legs choose something?" David suggested, looking in Mac’s direction and waggling his eyebrows at her.

Jon walked up to the white mic stand and asked, "What do you say, Doll?"

"Ya’ll know any country?" she questioned loudly from the third row, smiling.

Richie grabbed his chest, apparently wounded by her question. David burst into laughter, and Tico replied, obviously offended, "Did she say what I thought she said?"

Hugh chuckled and answered Tico’s question since apparently no one else was going to, "Yeah, Teek, I believe she did."

Mac was surprised to hear the bass player answer Tico. That was the first sentence she’d heard come out of his mouth the whole time she had been with the band. Normally, he gave one word responses to everything, when he spoke at all. Jon had told her that Hugh was just like that around people he didn’t know, but that once he warmed up to her, he would be talking her ears off.

Jon caught her attention again by announcing, "I have an idea." He turned and motioned the guys to him. He talked quietly to them for a few seconds, the guys nodding in response occasionally. The men were grouped together, reminding Mac of a football huddle. She saw Hugh ask something and Jon answered, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. When the huddle disbanded, all the men went back to their places on stage.

From the left side of the stage, Richie asked, "Hey Kidd, doncha need your guitar for this one?"

"I guess I do," Jon answered, laughing and motioning to a guy off stage. The man walked out and handed Jon his black guitar.

Mac smiled and watched as he put the strap over his head and one shoulder. This should be interesting.

"Let’s do this," he announced, then counted off the beat. When he started playing the intro of the song, Mac immediately recognized the song and smiled. Then he began to sing...

A gypsy wind is blowing warm tonight,
the sky is starlit and the time is right.
And still, you’re telling me you have to go,
before you leave there’s something you should know.
Yeah, somethin’ you should know, baby.
I’ve seen you smilin’ in the summer sun,
I’ve seen your long hair flyin’ when you run.
I’ve made my mind up that it’s meant to be,
Someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me.
Someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me,
Up where the rivers meet the sounding sea.
High above me now, you’re wild and free,
Ah, but someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me.
Someday lady, you’ll accomp’ny me.

It was one of Mac’s favorite songs, and it was all she could do to keep from singing along with him. His whiskey smooth voice fit the lyrics perfectly and he sounded a lot like Bob Seger but with a little more gravel in his voice. The band members had joined in playing after the first few strums of Jon’s guitar and seemed to know the music as well as Jon knew the lyrics.

He was about halfway through the second verse when he seemed to freeze up. He paused over the lyrics, but the band kept on playing. Richie smiled, obviously amused that Jon had forgotten the words, but Mac knew he hadn’t forgotten the lyrics. This was the verse he had sang for her in her dream. Something was very wrong.

On stage, Jon was smiling and singing just for Mac, but halfway through the second verse his skin suddenly warmed and the sensation of static electricity raced down his spine causing a frisson of fear to accompany it. It was the warning of another vampire in the immediate vicinity. Quickly and cautiously, his eyes scanned what he could see of the lighted venue.

He felt the brush of Mac’s mind reaching out to his. Then heard her question in his head, What’s wrong?

Nothing to be concerned over, moglie mia, he answered her.

Are you sure? She questioned.

Not really, he told her cautiously, slowly come to me, Mac. Act as if there’s nothing wrong, but get up here and we’ll go to my dressing room. But don’t leave my sight.

Jon watched as she slowly gathered her things. "Is that enough, Obie?" he asked.

When Obie nodded and gave him a thumbs up, his gaze went back to Mac. His eyes never left her even while he laughed and took the good natured teasing from his band mates over forgetting the lyrics to the song. Richie was the only one not teasing him. The guitarist realized something was wrong; he knew Jon too well.

Jon crossed the stage and met Mac at the top of the stairs. Richie was close behind him. Once they were in the hallway in the back stage area, Richie asked, "What is it, Jon? What’s wrong?"

"Remember that night in the bar in Moscow when I told you Kristoff was there and you asked me how I knew?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," Richie answered, nodding.

"Same situation," Jon told him, "only I’m not expecting anyone, so I don’t know who this is, and I’m not taking any chances. I want Mac out of sight."

Jon took Mac’s small hand in one of his and pulled her hurriedly down the passageway. He wouldn’t feel comfortable until he had her behind closed doors. This warning system was built into a vampire’s genetic make up for a reason. It was supposed to let them know when another vamp was around to keep one from invading the territory of another, but also just so there were no surprises. Not all vampires were good, upstanding citizens. Some were violent and evil, especially ones that had gone rogue.

When they were safely behind the closed doors of his dressing room, he relaxed a little. At Mac’s questioning glance, he quickly explained to her what had happened.

"Is there any real danger?" she asked calmly.

"Probably not," he replied, pulling her into his arms, "but I’d rather be safe than sorry."

She pulled back from him to dig into the pocket of her jeans. Digging out three coins, she took one of Jon’s hands in both of hers laying a quarter in his palm and closing his hand around it. She held his closed fist in both of her hands, while he looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I don’t need your pocket change," he joked, smiling down at her.

"Hush," she ordered. Then closing her eyes she softly chanted, "As long as you hold this charm, no one can do you harm."

Jon realized what she had just done, but Richie looked on with a puzzled look on his face. He continued to frown at her, when she walked over and performed the same procedure with him, placing a nickel in his hand.

"Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on here?" Richie asked, even as he watched Mac perform the ritual again, placing the dime in her back pocket when she was done.

Jon looked at Mac and when she nodded her permission, he explained, "Mac’s a witch."

"Excuse me?" Richie questioned. When his friend just looked at him with a smile, Richie asked, "A real witch? They really exist?"

"You can believe he’s a vampire," Mac said, jerking her head in Jon’s direction, "but you can’t believe I’m a witch?"

"I’ve seen his fangs," Richie explained, shrugging.

"I bit her and fed this afternoon," Jon told his friend. "Do you see any bite marks on her neck?"

Richie looked over at Mac. She tilted her head to either side, showing off her long neck. No bite marks. "Holy shit," Richie breathed.