Heart Mates - 2nd Edition

by Mary Hughes

  And then bitter magic came to Raven’s aid. By then he was panicked enough that he didn’t question the odd taste, just used it to beat through the hard magic.

  The royal magic blasted him out of the air. There was only darkness.

  Raven came awake on the roof of the house. His master was gone. Raven took wing, searching, but not even a taste of his master’s magic remained.

  Nulled? Or dead?

  No, if his master were dead, Raven would be as well.

  So he waited. Magic kept him from aging as a natural raven would. He tried to use the time productively, growing in strength and wisdom, but until his master named him, he’d be a bird, without hands.

  It was hard to read a book or do an Internet search lacking a simple opposable thumb.

  And then, in his twenty-ninth year, finally, he felt the wizard’s power flare. Raven took off instantly.

  There was a strange aftertaste to the flare, a physical, almost beastly violence. But the magic was strong, the strength of a prince. Almost…stronger. How strange. Nothing was stronger than a full-blooded wizard prince.

  Now, today, Raven would finally have hands. Finally, he’d have a name. The optimism ate through the dark chill on his neck.

  As the sun cleared the horizon, his master’s power—cut.

  Raven fluttered midair. He cawed and flew in a circle, trying to sense the power, to find that huge well that had drawn him across the continent…but nothing.

  This was impossible. A parent might mask a child’s magical signature, but once the magic was tapped, the mask burned clear. The freed magic was like a direct line from mage to familiar. Not even death cut it off so entirely, so abruptly.

  It was as if his master was no longer a wizard.

  The raven’s head cocked. No longer a wizard…or perhaps no longer human.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What are you doing?” Noah couldn’t seem to help himself from following Sophia as she flitted around the store, gathering packets of this, snips of that.

  “I don’t know if Rodolphe will be back—he’s a coward. But either he’ll return or he’ll send someone to do his dirty work, and you’re vulnerable. The hex makes it worse. I can’t solve Rodolphe, but I can try preparing a potion to neutralize the hex.”

  “Good. That’s good. But it’s just a hex, right? Can’t you use something, I don’t know, prepackaged?”

  She stopped to stare at him. “You picked up quite a bit at your mother’s employer. Yes, most hexes clear up with a generic unhex. Auntie sells ’em in bulk, ten for ten bucks.” Her gaze flashed to the side. “Oh, there’s her fennel.” She grabbed a handful of seeds, counted five into her other palm and dumped the rest of them back.

  “But…?” he prompted.

  “Hmm?” Her star-shot blue eyes focused slowly on him. “Oh. But Auntie never did her spells by the book. She’ll have added her own twists. I’m using a simple unhex as the base, but I need to, well, spice it up at bit.”

  She muttered to herself as she worked. He caught “triangulation” and “original spell interacting with secondary boosters” as she studied picture and covered mirror from different angles. Then she was off searching again.

  While she put together the potion, Noah tapped fingers on a glass-topped case and worried. What if Rodolphe came back before she freed him from the hex? How could he protect her? Worse, what happened after she freed him? Would the urge to kiss her and stroke her pretty…everything…disappear?

  Or, potentially worse, would he find out this insanely strong attraction was real?

  He wasn’t used to feeling unsettled and didn’t like it. “I’m going outside.”

  “Fresh air?” She was nose deep in some spellbook. The elegant sweep of her nose distracted him for a moment.

  “Sure.” Really it was to walk the perimeter, to make sure Rodolphe or Killer or someone even worse wasn’t out there, ready to pounce.

  And maybe get a little privacy for a phone call. To talk this out.

  He must be really unsettled if he was thinking of that.

  Outside, he prowled around the bookstore three times, seeing and scenting nothing. The fourth time he pulled out his phone to call the one person who might understand his problem. Mason’s cousin Zoe.

  Noah and Mason’s mothers were sisters. Zoe was Mason’s cousin on his father’s side. Zoe was the reason Mason had curtailed his wandering a few years ago to join the then-Scauth pack. Zoe’s mother was sick. To make ends meet, Zoe had gotten a job in Milwaukee, but the money she sent wasn’t getting to her ailing mother, thanks to Scauth and his bullies. Mason stopped that, but when he saw Zoe and her mother weren’t the only wolves suffering, he’d called in Noah.

  Zoe, unknown to everyone but her alpha, was now Zoe Light and mated to a wizard.

  “Noah? What is it?” Zoe answered out of breath, as if she’d been running or doing gymnastics or making lov…

  He clamped mental blinders on. “I have a problem.”

  “Scauth’s lapdogs harassing you? You just have to say the word, and Daniel and I will be there.”

  “Not yet. Your boyfriend’s why I’m calling.”

  “Boyfriend?” She snorted. “Boy implies little. If only you knew how far off that is.” Springs creaked, like bodies shifting in a bed.

  Noah squeezed his eyes briefly in pain. “Look, your—whatever—is a wizard, right? I’m calling about a witch.”

  That shut Zoe up.

  “She isn’t able to do magic, and another wizard threatened her. Is she vulnerable?”

  Zoe conversed with her non-boy-toy in a low tone. Then she came back on the line. “Hell yeah, she’s vulnerable. Who is this ex-witch, Noah? How did you meet?”

  “It’s not important.” His jaw clenched against a growl. Sophia was vulnerable. He’d have to stick close to her to defend her. And if dawn came and they still hadn’t removed the hex…well, as the bite-sized doglet, it wouldn’t be as easy, but what he didn’t have in size he’d have to make up for in heart.

  “Noah, it might be the most important thing there is. I need to know. What, Daniel?” In the background, a deep voice murmured something about taboo and prophecy.

  Taboo reminded Noah that the Witches’ Council had some insane prohibition against witch-shifter sex. He shrugged. Most wolves ignored the Council as much as possible. But he wondered about the prophecy.

  Zoe came back on the line. “Are you attracted to her?”

  “Of course not.” Not counting his inexplicable need to touch her, kiss her, fuck her, every time she was near. Or every time he smelled her, or every time he thought of her, or even heard her name…bloody claws and fangs. Attracted didn’t even begin to describe how he felt about her.

  “Then why are you asking?”

  He said the first thing that sprang to mind. “Duty. My duty, to the pack. I have to get rid of a damned hex to keep the pack safe. The ex-witch can help me.” That was why. No other reason.

  “You’re lying,” Zoe said dryly.

  He knew that. “Maybe.”

  Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sophia, with her beautiful eyes and fine face and soft body made for his hands…and her loyalty. Yes, he admired her traveling hundreds of miles to come to the rescue of her befuddled aunt. It wasn’t all about body parts. He admired Sophia’s caring for the dog King, trying to protect him before she knew his secret. Chafed at it, but admired it.

  “Noah, listen. Sex with a witch is a problem.”

  “I know the stories, power-mad duals, yada-yada. I think the vaunted Council simply can’t stand a bit of fur in the blood. Besides, she’s an ex-witch.”

  “The Council won’t care about nuances. What now, Daniel?” The phone muffled and he could barely hear her say, “Prophecy’s her problem, not his.” She came back on the line. “Noah, please. The Council is deadly serious about inter-magical sex. Why do you think Daniel and I move every few weeks? Get out of there now, before anything happens between you two. It’s best for you both.”<
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  “She’s in danger. I can’t leave. I’ll just say no to sex.” So she smelled wonderful and looked like his wettest dream. Didn’t mean he had to act on his desires. He could keep her safe without bedding her, couldn’t he?

  Couldn’t he?

  Sure he could.

  Zoe sighed. “Okay.” The sigh meant it wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t going to scold him about it anymore. In the background was more deep murmuring. “Daniel says if you want, we can try to help with the hex you need removed. We can be there in a couple days. Less if we fly.” Her voice tightened. “Planes are iffy with wizards, but Daniel has some tech from his cousin that betters our odds.”

  “I’d love your help, but I don’t want you to have to drive all the way here. And I especially don’t want you risking your life.”

  Again Zoe covered the phone and in the background he heard Zoe and Daniel talk. He was arguing about a prophecy, and she about a witch and wolf who needed to work things out on their own.

  Noah’s mind was chewing on protecting Sophia. He just had to set his goal, protect her without jumping her. He was nothing if not good at setting a goal and going for it, straight on and full steam ahead.

  Steamy, full breasts…

  He growled at himself.

  “What the hell was that?” Zoe said. “Noah, are you in danger?”

  In danger? “No.” Yes. More than he’d admit. Keep Sophia safe without bedding her? Welcome to hell, and oh yeah, here’s a boulder for you to push up the “down” escalator. “Look, while she’s in town I’m just going to bodyguard her.” Bodyguard. Now there was a word that conjured up all sorts of images, naked, steamy images…

  Damn it, he was so fucked.

  * * *

  Sophia’s eyes were on the potion she was making. But her ears were on Noah. He’d slammed back into the bookstore and immediately swung into pacing. For a heretofore silent beast, he was making all sorts of noises. Snorts of disgust. Huffs of displeasure.

  Guttural grunts that made her think of sweaty bodies and tangled sheets.

  She glanced at him, prowling the curios for the third or fourth time. When he moved, it was like his wolf, all muscle and limber strength. Oh, to have that power caught between her thighs.

  She discreetly smacked herself on the forehead. Job to do here, with dawn creeping ever nearer. Unhex Noah then figure out how to fight the Hungry Ghost without magic…she started hyperventilating. No, no, she wasn’t certain Rodolphe was the Ghost. No reason to panic. She refocused on Auntie’s red leather spell book. Her purple scrawl in the margins helped Sophia think like Linda. Cloves for forked spells, she read. Two to break, three to heal. She found a bottle and poured out a handful to count three.

  “Is it done yet?” Noah snarled right in her ear.

  Her whole body jerked. The cloves flew into the air like a mini-explosion. Clattered to the work countertop.

  She spun. He filled the space before her, to the point that she had to brace herself on the counter. “It’ll be done when it’s done.”

  “I can’t protect anybody with this hex. Make it done faster.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her sarcastic salute lost something when her voice and hand trembled. One thing she could say about him, the wolf had presence.

  She picked up the cloves and he went back to his long-limbed stalking, poking and growling among the artifacts. Either he was getting anxious about the approaching sunrise or the modified bur was really starting to dig under his skin, or…well, this was how her boyfriends acted when they needed to get laid.

  But that was the one thing a big ol’ alpha wolf didn’t have trouble with, wasn’t it?

  She dropped three cloves into the beaker and put the rest back into their bottle.

  Unless he felt forced to stick with her until she freed him of the hex. Stuck, he couldn’t find relief. That would explain his searing hot kisses and her amazing orgasms. All that rampant sexuality with only one convenient outlet—her.

  Her jaw tightened so hard she crunched teeth. He’d kissed her because she was the nearest set of lips? And she’d stupidly responded, and the rest had followed. Maybe not, but she hadn’t gotten laid recently either, and irritation spiraled up inside her like a drill. She snapped, “Will you stop that growling?”

  He spun, going glass-lake still, absolutely focused on her. She swallowed hard, caught between feeling special and feeling like prey. Just as her knees were about to give, he stalked closer. “Is it ready now?”

  Burn my comets. “Let me check.” She turned back to the beaker on the counter, stirring the liquid until it shimmered a soft pink. “Yeah, as ready as it’s going to be. As long as the hex wasn’t too skewed by the mirror, this should work.”

  “Don’t forget the picture,” he rasped, moving aggressively into her space.

  She whirled and pressed back. Her hips hit glass counter. She swallowed again. “The picture isn’t magic.”

  “No? Then why do I need to do this every time I’m near you?” He grabbed her and kissed her.

  She gasped. The amount of tongue on impact…and teeth…stars and comets, it was hot. She grabbed his hair in return. Maybe this searing heat between them was just convenience on his part, just restlessness on her part—but it felt like more, a lot more, full of deep, heartfelt need.

  She kissed him back, thrusting her tongue so hard she practically torqued it down his throat.

  He grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the counter, shoving Auntie’s big spellbook to the floor. It hit with a thump that shook.

  She twisted to reach down for it.

  His mouth landed on her neck, on the sweet spot under her ear. Suddenly she could care less about paper and print over the meeting of hot flesh.

  She arched into him. He stripped her of her suit coat, tossed it onto the counter and returned to tasting that sweet spot. His palms glided up her flanks, found her breasts, cupped and squeezed. She seized his broad shoulders, solid anchors in the storm of need.

  “I don’t know,” she gasped. “Why?”

  “Why what?” His breath billowed against the delicate skin of her neck.

  Tantalizing nips and kisses along her sensitive neck made her fears slip out. “Why do you need to kiss me? Because I’m convenient? Handy?”

  He lifted his head, silver eyes wide. “Handy?” He snarled it. “Is this handy?” One hand flattened on her breastbone and pressed her back.

  Her shoulders hit glass, her head hit air.

  “Is this handy?” His mouth found her nipple, wet the cloth, and suckled her through bra and blouse.

  She arched with a gasp. Oh yeah, he was a shifter all right, going straight from attraction to action.

  “No. This is not handy. This is need so deep it slices my guts into ribbons.” He bit her nipple, lightly, but the zing of desire shot sweet urgency into her flesh.

  She raised her head, neck muscles protesting. His crown filled her sight, black locks begging for her touch. She feathered her fingers over pure silk.

  He suckled through cloth, plucking the other nipple erect. She moaned. Desire heated her veins, her muscles, made her soft and yielding. Her neck gave out and her head fell back and she just enjoyed.

  He unbuttoned her blouse, still suckling—lithe, strong and dexterous on top of it. Lifting her bra he applied that hot dexterity directly to her puckered nipple with his steamy mouth and rasping fingers.

  She shot straight up. Ye gods. She writhed as his mouth tortured her, tongue and teeth and rough caressing fingers. She nearly shrieked when he settled down to some really good sucking.

  And she wanted more. She speared fingers through his thick hair, speaking her need through them. Pulling him closer. Pressing him downward.

  He chuckled. “I’ll get there soon enough.”

  She slit her eyes and found her hands pushing him toward her belly, toward where his mouth could really do some good.

  Temporary insanity? Too many balance sheets and not enough bedsheets? Or because no other man
could bring her to a fever pitch, satisfy her like he could?

  He started moving down, kissing the sensitive flesh on the underside of her breast. She sighed and released her head to hang. His tongue tickled the fine hairs on her solar plexus. Her breath hissed out. Potions and hexes and even worry about Auntie temporarily disappeared, licked away by the fire of that tongue.

  Down, down he went, her belly boiling with anticipation. A pop of button and zip, and her trousers were undone. Now we’re getting somewhere. She petted whatever part of him she could reach, urging him to do more, faster, harder. He winched material down her hips. She lifted, wanting him where she throbbed most.

  Cool air hit her heated flesh. She moaned.

  He took a deep, appreciative breath. “Sophia, love. Open your thighs.”

  Her slacks ringed her knees. His panted breaths heating her sex, she winched her legs as far apart as the open waistband would let her and squirmed, raising her hips to meet his mouth…

  Crack. Liquid splashed her stomach.

  He yanked her off the counter, bundling her in one arm, his head swiveling as if he expected an attack.

  Nobody was there.

  His face was wet. Sophia traced a finger through the sheen on his cheek. Charred pink, slightly viscous. She had to resist the urge to tongue the same path over his strong cheekbone.

  He set her carefully on her feet and used the tail of his shirt to wipe more charred pink off her belly. It smeared gray. “What happened?”

  “The potion.” She turned to the countertop where nothing was left of the beaker but broken glass and blackened potion. She groaned. “We triggered the unhex potion.”

  “How?”

  She pulled up her pants. Not only the beaker was broken—the mood was too. “Strong emotion can do that.”

  He poked the glass shards. “Did it work?”

  “I don’t know. It’s expended.”

  “The hex is gone?” He started to smile. “I don’t feel any different. Are you sure it worked?”

  She hesitated. “I’m sure it activated. We need to wait for dawn to see if it worked.”