Authors Introduction: This is my first foray into the magic and mind control genres, which is something I've wanted to do for quite a while now. Without revealing too much of the story in the preface, I will say that I hope to write something that is a little different from the average MC story both in how the mind control and magic affect the characters and in their reactions to it. The degree to which I succeed shall be seen, beginning with this chapter.
Also, a note to readers: while there is sex between various characters over the course of this story, only sex involving both of the main characters will be fully described -- and that doesn't start until the end of the chapter and will build gradually in later installments. If you're looking for something that gets right to the nitty gritty, look elsewhere.
That Damned Blessing, Chapter One
In Which One Is Saved and Two Are Lost
Day One
Ryan McCullen ran along the beach, following sandaled footprints in the wet sand. The prints were small, even dainty, but they marked a stride that was surprisingly long. He knew the feet that made the prints and the legs that made the stride, and he liked both very much -- but of course, what he was after was neither feet nor legs, but what was in between. And because the prints were made by a fleeing girl who was not actually trying to get away, he knew he would have it soon.
To his right the waves of the South Pacific swept in on a long arc that made up a gorgeous bay lined by green hills; out past the breakers he could see, just barely, the low shapes of four other small islands that were part of the island nation of Ranu Ratu. The country was made up of eighty-two islands, mostly tiny uninhabited rocks, dotted over four thousand square miles of ocean. He'd only ever been on Ranura, the largest island of the group, and as far as he could tell it was the only island worth visiting unless you liked looking at fishermen and jungle.
Ryan preferred looking at other things, like the girl who made these footprints.
The beach, normally pristine, was scattered with debris from the tropical storm that had struck the day before and had swatted the island with sheets of rain and gales for almost eighteen hours. At the other end of the beach from the hotel was a little collection of fishermen's huts; a hundred yards before it the footprints veered inland, up over the sand ridge that marked the edge of the beach. The ridge was topped with brush, and he knew that right over the hill was an unpaved road that ran parallel to the sea, and then past that was jungle -- or at least it looked like jungle to an eighteen-year-old kid who'd never been more than a few hundred miles from home before. In reality it was a narrow strip of thoroughly tamed forest that set off the road from a plantation of guava and papaya orchards. He crossed the road in two long strides and vaulted a rail fence. He looked left and right and then down at the ground, but his prey had seemingly vanished.
Well, she did like her games.
It wasn't even nine in the morning yet, but already the heat was turning puddles and even the damp from the ground into steam. He stepped into the shade of the trees, and while the fact that he was no longer taking tropical sun to his skin made him feel cooler, those same trees blocked the breeze so that the humidity immediately became oppressive, plastering his unbuttoned blue cotton shirt to his back with sweat.
He looked left and right again but saw nothing but trees and undergrowth. "Lexy," he called softly, playfully. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." No response came except for the sound of a distant engine from somewhere in the orchards ahead. "Lexy? I bet you're...
behind this tree!"
She was not behind the tree, nor the next one, nor the next, and he was starting to get a little irritated until he heard a giggle from the road behind him. He turned and there she was: lithe and long-legged, clad in a very scanty blue bikini and a gauzy white beach shirt, her long, raven hair pulled back into a simple pony-tail, the gold stud in her left nostril glittering in the sunlight. She was looking at him over the top of a pair of Ace &Tate sunglasses that perched on the end of her pert nose, her full lips quirked in a smart-ass grin, and she stood with her hand on her insolently-cocked hip. "You really do look ridiculous, you know, investigating every tree in the forest."
He smiled, as he always did when he heard Lexy speak. She was from Spain but she spoke English impeccably, and with a posh English accent that drove him nuts. Alejandra Garza was the daughter of one of her father's coworkers on the resort project; Lexy, her mom, and her little sister were here visiting her dad, just like Ryan and his family were visiting his dad. He'd met her on the day he arrived on the island, three weeks ago; they'd fucked the day after that and every day since except when her period pains had killed her mood. Neither of them had the slightest illusion about this little romance being anything other than physical, or of it lasting past the McCullens' departure in ten days, but by God it was a lot of fun while it lasted.
"How long have you been standing there watching me make an idiot out of myself?" he asked, walking toward her.
"For the entire time you were making an idiot of yourself," she chuckled. "But you make a handsome idiot."
He put his hands on her coltish hips and grinned down at her. At six feet, two inches, he had eight inches on her, and she could comfortably tuck her head under his chin when they danced. His swimmer's build was powerful without being massive, and he could pick her up with one arm around her waist when he was of a mind. Right now, though, he was minded of something else, as he showed when he leaned in and put his lips on hers. His kiss was hungry and she returned it in kind, and in a moment their tongues were tangled and their breathing heavy, as tended to happen whenever two bundles of teenage hormones collided.
Her delicate, long-fingered hands rested lightly on his shoulders at first, but they did not stay there. She began to move them down his arms and back up, down and back, making his skin prickle in their wake.
How does she do that?
he wondered. The girls back in Milwaukee couldn't do that! Apparently it was true what they said about European women.
He cupped her breasts through her electric blue bikini top, feeling it fill his palm. Her boobs weren't big -- they didn't overflow his large hand -- but they were firm and perky and sweet, tipped with dark nipples that got so wonderfully hard and sensitive when he touched them like he was doing now. Lexy gave a little whimper into his mouth, a very happy sound, as he pinched her buds gently.
