Mating Their Witch

by Tl Reeve

  “What the hell?” Jamie whispered. If Zane Adock thought he could just randomly put deputies on her with the guise of protecting her, because they shared a single kiss, he had another thing coming. He couldn't tell her what she could and couldn’t do, or where she could and couldn’t go.

  Asshole. Since she had to pass the Sheriff’s Department on the way to her destination, she pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the door. Her car shook and shuddered when she shut it off. The last mechanic to look at it called it an air/gas hotspot, whatever that meant. The rattle jarred her teeth while mortification swamped her. Usually it lasted on a few seconds, but because she hadn’t driven it in days, the vehicle decided to run on for almost a minute before the beast came to rest, allowing her to get out. She closed the door and scanned the area for the deputy who followed her.

  Nothing.

  Jamie entered the brick building and glanced around. For a Saturday, the place appeared calm. Phones rang, and people carried on conversations around her. She had no idea if Zane would even be there, but, she figured, the Sheriff was always in. A young female deputy walked by her, and Jamie reached out to place a hand on the officer's forearm. The woman stopped. Her gaze dropped to Jamie's hand, which still laid her forearm.

  One look from the female deputy and Jamie realized that perhaps touching her without permission hadn't been the smartest move. “Sorry.” Jamie mumbled her apology while letting go of the woman’s arm.

  The deputy pasted on a friendly smile. “It’s okay. You caught me by surprise is all. What can I do for you?”

  “Can you tell me where I can find Zane Adock? Erm, Sheriff Adock, I mean.”

  The young deputy smirked then cleared her throat while pointing toward the hall to Jaime’s right. “In his office. Follow this hall and make a right. His office is all the way at the end. You can’t miss it. His name is on his door.”

  “Thank you,” Jamie replied. “Sorry, once again.”

  She followed the woman’s instructions. Each step she took was as if she’d been trapped in wet sand, unable to get through the dense matter. She didn’t understand why her heart pounded or why the small hairs on her arms stood on end or even why a thread of excitement twined with fear. A part of her demanded Zane explain why he put a deputy on her. While the other part, just wanted to be left alone.

  “Don't back down now.” She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the same deputy from her apartment, following her. Where did he come from? What the hell is wrong with people? Don’t they get what personal space means?

  She raised her hand to knock on the frosted glass door when the deputy did it for her. She narrowed her gaze at him. He didn't flinch. He stood his ground, hands behind his back, and he stared straight ahead, like she didn't even exist.

  “Yeah?” Zane's husky voice flowed through the closed door.

  Jamie shivered.

  “It's Blake. I got someone here to see you.” Blake opened the door. He nudged her inside, then closed the door behind her, leaving her to deal with Zane, which was perfectly fine with her.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Jamie pointed a finger at him as anger rushed through her. The smug bastard cocked a brow and folded his hands. “You're delusional, unpredictable, and you're reckless. You think by telling me some lie, I'll just... put out for you?” She didn’t even wait for him to greet her. She laid all of her frustrations out there for him.

  The caress of Zane's gaze did nothing to settle the riotous emotions building inside of her. When he didn't say a word, rage detonated inside of her. Jamie curled her fingers into a fist and closed her eyes. How dare he act like it was no big deal while she vibrated with her unspent fury?

  “Son of a bitch!” Zane yelped.

  Her eyes snapped open as the sound of liquid hit the floor. Zane jumped out of his chair as steam rose from the floor. What in the world?

  “What the fuck was that for?” He shook out the leg of his pants and cursed. “That was fucking close to the family jewels.”

  She continued to stare at him, unable to speak. Where had the coffee come from? Why had he spilled it? “Um...” She hurried to the door and opened it a crack. “Blake, is it?” The guy nodded giving her a perplexed look. “Can you get some paper towels. Your boss had an accident with his coffee.”

  “The hell I did,” he snarled. “She poured it on me.”

  Blake’s eyes went wide. “Paper towels, on it.” He took off, down the hall.

  “I did no such thing.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “For all I know, you're a klutz.”

  “Lady, you are seriously testing my patience,” he grumbled. “What’s it going to take to prove to you, you're a witch?”

  Oh, let's see... everything? She shook her head and gave a small humorless chuckle. “What is it going to take for you to understand, I don't believe in that woo-woo bullshit?”

  Why the hell were they having a conversation about magic again? Or about her being a witch? She thought she'd been abundantly clear last night. Witchcraft and magic didn’t exist.

  “A whole hell of a lot, sweetheart.” He closed the space between them. The heady scent of his aftershave left her dizzy and her mouth watered. “What if I told you, my coffee cup sat by a picture of Cian, Ava, and I, and I didn’t touch it.”

  She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

  Jamie basked in his cologne. She swayed forward and inhaled again, drawing in more of his smell. Zane growled. The sound vibrated through her, adding to the sensory overload currently obliterating her senses. What was it about him that could make her lose herself? She should be angry at him, yet she couldn’t muster the emotion like she had two minutes ago.

  The door opened, and Blake cleared his throat, breaking whatever connection she had with Zane. “Paper towels, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Jamie took the opportunity to step away from the Sheriff. Reality set in as she took a deep cleansing breath. She’d been close to kissing him again. To pushing aside his crazy talk just to feel his lips against hers one more time. It was like they were two magnets being drawn together by some unseen force.

  We're polar opposites that explains everything! She snapped her fingers in triumph and watched in horror as one of the large bookshelves in Zane’s office containing the state law books fell forward, crashing to the floor. The resounding boom dragged a startled yelp from her.

  Zane cocked a brow at her.

  “Shitty construction,” she muttered with an awkward shrug. “I thought I heard it creak when I walked in.” I didn’t do it.

  “I assure you, it was a thing of beauty. Handmade by my father. It's all tongue and groove cherry hardwood. There ain't a damn thing wrong with it, sweetheart. You on the other hand,” he blotted his pants with the paper towel, “are a pain in my ass and out of control.” He glanced over at his deputy and sighed. “Leave us, Blake. Everything is fine.”

  Jamie gave Zane her full attention once Blake left the room. “Stay away from me. I don't need a bodyguard. And, I don't need some crazy-ass Sheriff trying to convince me I'm something I'm not. Got it?”

  Zane pressed into her personal space once more. The heat from his body warmed her. “You are a witch, and I aim to prove it.” He bent his head and kissed her. The press of his mouth didn't linger, though. He stepped back. His gaze filled with worry and trepidation. “Please allow Blake to watch over you. He won't intrude on your life. He won't make a sound. You won't even know he's there.”

  Jamie blinked several times in an attempt to clear her mind and focus on what he said. His kiss, although quick and not as intense as the night before still had enough punch to addle her. “Yes.” She tsked, clenching her hands into fists. Damn it! “No. I meant to say no. He can't watch over me. And, neither can you!” She started to shift away from him but stopped when Zane mirrored her movements. “Back off. Don't you understand any concept of personal space?”

  “Yeah.” A sexy little smirk cro
ssed his lips.

  “Then stay out of mine.” She tried to ease past him, but the asshole wouldn’t budge.

  “Can we stay on topic? We went from talking about Blake protecting you to your personal space?” Humor lit his gorgeous slate-blue eyes.

  “Then stop kissing me!” She slapped her hand over her mouth to stop any further words from slipping past her lips.

  Zane shook his head as he raised his hand. He wrapped the massive paw around her wrist then removed her hand from her mouth. As he did last night, his thumb rubbed the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. A soft chuckle, almost as though the sound was made in relief, rumbled from him. Jamie stilled. She liked his laugh and could become addicted to the deep and pure sound of amusement if she gave herself permission. She sensed he didn't see humor in things often, but when he did, he let it consume him.

  “Are you always this combative with men who want to fuck you?” The timbre of his voice changed at the word fuck—almost like he was in the middle of the act as he spoke it.

  “I wouldn't know,” Jamie snapped. “I've never—”

  “Finish your sentence. You haven't what?” Zane growled.

  “That's none of your business.” She tugged her arm, trying to break free.

  “Are you a virgin, little witch?” Zane let go of her but made no indication he'd give her any space, anytime soon.

  A heated flush started on her chest and worked its way up to her cheeks. “I repeat, it's none of your business. We've gotten off topic again.” She wrapped herself in her false bravado.

  “Oh?” He bent his head and inhaled. “I don’t think we have. Answer my question, Jamie.”

  “I already did.” Her heart pounded while her sex ached for whatever the man in front of her was offering—a first class ticket to getting fucked—or as Mary would say; ‘going to pound town.’ “I did. I said it’s none of your business.” She wasn’t a prude. She had sex with her ex-boyfriend. Several times in fact. It lacked substance. Fulfillment. Talking about it was intrusive and by the look in his grey eyes it made her realize, once again, he was out of her league.

  “Oh, it's so my business.” A current of electricity snapped to life between them, ionizing the air and causing the hairs on her arms to raise. “Everything about you is my business.”

  “Stay away from me.” She placed her hand out to stop him, and her palm came up against the wide expanse of his chest. She fought back the urge to curl her fingers into the wall of muscle. “Keep your deputy—”

  “Blake,” Zane reminded her.

  “Whatever. Keep Blake leashed because I won't accept your protection. I'm perfectly safe.” Jamie scurried past Zane, fully aware that he allowed it. If he wanted to stop her, she suspected he would have. “I want you and Cian to stay far, far away from me.” She slammed the door behind her and sagged. What the hell is wrong with these people?

  He laughed.

  There she went, into the Sheriff's Department. He didn't blame her. Having a deputy on her door and an overzealous wolf pawing all over her, let alone two, the night before, he bet she worked up a nice lather of pissed off. His girl always had. Smiling to himself, he focused the binoculars on the sway of her ass and groaned. He knew that ass. Touched that ass. Treated it like gold—unlike the slimy wolf who abused her perfect, creamy flesh.

  “I promise when this is all over, I'll worship your body,” he whispered then licked his lips. “I’ve waited a long time to make you mine and now, with Mary is out of the way, we can be together.”

  He'd been busy, though. Witches rarely live alone, so to find a non-traditional coven living among wolves, well goody, goody him. Jamie had been willfully ignorant, looking for attention. Damn wolves didn’t even take care of their women folk. Perhaps they were all like Zane and Cian, perverted demons, rutting in sin. He laughed. He loved the taste of sin and hedonism. He’d take on both men. Dine on their decadence. Listen to them howl. Then, when the deed had been done... and oh, yes... he moaned, the deed would be done, he’d dance on the remnants of their pelts.

  He used to never be this assertive. This sure of himself. No, when the Master found him, he’d been a lily-livered, yellow-bellied, chicken shit. Violence made him sick to the soul. Blood made him gag. But, the Master fixed that. He drank from the god’s cup. Power, addictively sweet and potent, flowed through him. Made him feel ten-feet tall, and indestructible.

  His first kill scared him, though.

  What if he got caught? The Master didn’t like his whining. No. Master beat him... badly. Tore his back to shreds with his whip, then poured alcohol on it. A whimper fell from his lips. For three days, he’d endured the pain. Suffered through each alcohol bath he’d been given. The Master forgave him, though, and then healed him, because the Master said he was a good boy. The Master cuddled him. Kissed him. Fondled him. Made him so excited he climaxed.

  By the second murder, he reveled in it. Stayed beside the body for hours and talked to the eviscerated corpse of a pretty little auburn-haired witch like his Master talked to him.

  He sighed, remembering the horrified expression locked into her features as he paralyzed her, keeping her awake as he cut into her skin. In fact, she looked so much like his little sprite of a girl, he called her Jamie. He professed his love. His gratitude.

  He remembered stroking her silky tresses an hour after death. Such a waste of life. Her magic, though potent, didn't last.

  He sighed.

  “C'est la vie,” he chuckled, as he pulled a black journal out of his bag. He opened it to the dog-eared page and wrote down the time and what she wore. Several days were already catalogued, including last night, and the clothes only a slut would wear. “This is only the beginning, my scrumptious little morsel.”

  He prided himself on his patience. On his ability to wait for her. So far, she hadn't performed any spells or used her magic in public... nor private as far as he'd seen, but he smelled it on her. Oh yes, his girl was special. She was powerful. The minute she figured it out... He shuddered. His shaft thickened. Anticipation curled through him. His fingers flexed into fists as he let out a shaky breath. Yes, he couldn't wait to taste her magic. To take his fill as he carved out her organs one by one and suck the life force from her body.

  A smile curled his lips as he waited and plotted her death and his rebirth.

  A flicker of activity caught his attention as the door to the sheriff's department was flung open and a very pissed Jamie appeared, stomping down the sidewalk. “Well, well, well, what have we got here?” He tracked her movements then sneered when she ran into that jerk-off from last night. The asshole had his hands all over Jamie. She was his property, not the wolf's. But, his little witch read him the riot act like a pro.

  He started his car then threw the journal on the seat next to him before he pulled out of the space and into traffic. Slowly, he crept down the road and watched the object of his affection from his rearview mirror. “Soon, my sweet witch. Soon, we will dance under the moon, and I will be whole again...”

  ***

  The way they'd left things last night didn't sit well with Cian. After leaving the bar in Cody's capable hands, he hopped on his motorcycle and drove to the sheriff's department. He needed to talk with Zane.

  They'd come on really strong with Jamie. Fuck, given the chance, he'd have been up to claiming their little witch last night. She was perfect, smelled like sugar, and melted on his tongue. Fuck, just one taste of her and he’d been addicted.

  They also scared her. He didn't scent any trepidation concerning their sexuality, but nonetheless, she was afraid. His wolf hated it. It tasted horrible the minute he scented it. He wanted to rub it away, banish it, and make sure Jamie never felt that way again.

  Cian pulled his bike in next to Zane's patrol car and killed the engine. He sat there for a moment and gathered his tattered wits. After pulling off his helmet, he placed it in the saddle bag then dismounted his bike. Though he was supposed to be coming up with ideas of how to settle their
scared little witchy woman, all he’d thought about was how he'd like to get balls-deep inside her and remove all doubts from her mind.

  His dick hardened.

  Since having her between him and Zane on the dancefloor, his body had been in a heightened sense of arousal. No matter how many times Zane tried to calm him, he couldn’t get enough. He’d fallen into a restless sleep, which made him a surly bastard to everyone at the bar. It’d been one of the reasons he left handling the deliveries to Cody.

  As he came around the corner of the building, the scent of sugar and citrus hit his nose seconds before Jamie's curvy figure ran slap dab into him. He wrapped his arms around her, catching her before she could fall on her fine ass. “Where's the fire, sweetheart?”

  “Perfect. Just fucking perfect,” she snarled. “Of all the people I could run into right now. It's you. Fucking you.”

  “Well, good morning to you, too.” Waves of embarrassment rolled off of her with the hearty aroma of pissed-off female. “What happened?”

  “‘What happened?’” She shook her head. “Both of you are so fucking clueless. Asshole, of the highest and mightiest put a guard on me. A bodyguard! Look at me, do I look defenseless?”

  Honestly? Yes. However, saying as much to her face would lead to her cutting off his balls and making a necklace out of them “I knew he did, and no, you don't.”

  “Exactly. Wait.” Her gaze snapped to his and narrowed. “What did you say?”

  Warning, warning, we're going to DEFCON five. Batten down the hatches. Return your trays to their upright positions, tuck your head between your knees, and kiss your ass goodbye. “But, Zane likes you... I like you. He's trying to keep you safe. With a—”