Ryan Cunningham stood in the deep shadows of Carna Ferrar's small back yard and watched her light a pit fire. Memories of one Beltane night nearly eight years ago flooded his mind. Shoving the memories away, he waited and wondered how much her rituals had changed over the years since their parting. With tomorrow holding such importance for her he knew she would engage in some sort of ritual magic. Not that he believed the magic she trusted so completely would help her--only a solid business plan could win his backing. Still, he knew Ostara held special power for her. The hours of day and night being equal, the spring equinox promised blessings for future gain. In Carna's case, his money. He didn't believe and yet…

The sun sank behind the western Coastal Range and the moon rose to bathe the peaks of the eastward Sierra Nevada mountains. It seemed as if Carna's Goddess and God had drawn a line in the sky, leaving half in darkness, the other in light.

As she had that long ago Beltane night, she drew a circle of incense around the round fire pit. Frankincense, sandalwood and cinnamon he recognized; whatever else she used he didn't.

Standing in the circle's center, she bowed her head. He missed the spill of waist length hair that years ago had fallen down her back like black moonlight. Her soft voice called him back to the present and he realized she was singing. That was new. She claimed she couldn't sing, but now he knew better. Despite keeping her voice low, her rich contralto flowed over his skin like a silky waterfall.

Removing her robe, she slapped her naked chest and thighs as she danced clockwise around her circle. At first the slow rhythm reminded him of the deep bass drums Hawaiians used to begin their traditional hulas. He couldn't see Carna's hand gestures and had no idea what, if anything, they meant. But he could see her body, the sensuous circling of her hips, the rise and fall of her lush breasts as she moved to a faster rhythm. She fell to her knees in the damp grass, her head flung back, her hands lifting her breasts as if offering them to her God.

Aching to replace her hands with his own, his fingers curled,. His balls felt tight and his cock swelled, the pleasure of arousal quickly growing painful. When she stretched out on the grass, her knees raised and parted, his breath hissed out. She lifted her head and seemed to look around. He held his breath. When she began to stroke her nipples and clit, he eased into deeper shadows then ran.

His cock bounced painfully against his thighs. He had the longest, thickest, hardest erection he'd had in almost eight years. That only she could bring it convinced him. Eight years ago she'd cursed him. Now he'd force her to remove the curse or kiss his financing goodbye.