Love Bewitched (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 3)

by Rosalie Redd

  Zain pushed away from the bars. He rubbed the side of his nose, and the diamond stud sparkled in the sconces’ firelight. “You’re asking a lot.”

  “What? Not up for the challenge?” She bit her lip. Damn, she must have a death wish to poke at a fae, but she sensed his indecision and recalled the old saying—in for a penny, in for a pound.

  He gazed at her, and his mouth quirked into a delectable grin. “What’s in it for you?”

  Wynne’s fingers tingled with the sudden urge to trace his lips and feel the plump flesh beneath her fingertips. She tightened her hand into a fist until her nails dug into her palm. “When we’re not reading the book together, I want the freedom to read the healing spells.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Whatever it takes for you to learn your new job works for me.”

  “Perfect.” Wynne extended her hand. “Shall we shake—”

  She stilled, and her hand froze in mid-air.

  Nuts. Must be dawn.

  Zain raised an eyebrow and stared at the pretty witch. With her hand extended, eyebrows raised, and those delectable lips parted, Wynne appeared to play an adult version of the child’s game “statue.” The urge to run his thumb over her bottom lip then kiss her raw rippled over his skin, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her while in this vulnerable state.

  He leaned against the cell bars and took the opportunity to study her. Blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, the tips resting against her well-endowed bosom. Her short-sleeved, modest blouse flowed over tight-fitting jeans that accentuated her lovely backside, and a pair of pointy-tipped flats covered her delicate feet. Even if she wore stilettos, the top of her head wouldn’t reach his shoulder.

  An image of Wynne in a pair of red high-heeled pumps and nothing else burned into the back of Zain’s mind. A zip of adrenaline sent a rush of blood south. Stop fantasizing about her. An intelligent, talented, beautiful witch like Wynne would never be seriously interested in a stupid, no-good fae.

  She continued to surprise him, though, with her spunk and determination to save her mother and with her desire to teach him to read.

  No one had ever taken an interest in him that way before. Shoot, even in his human life, people had only wanted him for his brawn.

  Could he really learn to read? He’d tried a couple of times on his own, yet the crippling tension that ignited his fight or flight syndrome always erupted. Funny, given that his occupation had been a prizefighter, he’d chosen to flee every time.

  A knot formed and tightened in his gut as uncertainty warred with desire, each yanking on a thread. He certainly didn’t deserve her willingness to teach him to read, but if that’s what it took to get her to study the pages without resistance, then so be it. Gwawl had a twitchy trigger finger, and the god could send them all to Tech Duinn for just looking at him the wrong way.

  Zain swiped his hand over his braid and focused on her situation. Twice now, she’d frozen on him. This time, he’d find out why.

  Wynne’s loud gasp echoed through the chamber.

  She brought her hand to her mouth, and her eyes widened as she stared at him.

  He crossed his arms. “You ready to tell me what that little statue episode was all about?”

  She turned her back on him. Her shoulders shook.

  An ache of unknown origin tightened his chest. Was that compassion?

  Wynne had the uncanny ability to draw out emotions in him he hadn’t experienced in decades.

  Before he could think about his actions, he strode behind her and placed his hands on her arms. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  Even as he spoke, he wasn’t sure what he could do to help her. She was his prisoner. Short of changing her appearance and taking her to a deserted island, neither of which would fool Gwawl, both their lives and those of the trapped gargoyles depended on her learning those spells.

  She tensed beneath his grasp but didn’t pull away. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  The urge to tackle some unknown beast and pummel the creature’s face until its features became unrecognizable burned along Zain’s veins like wildfire.

  He clamped his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. “There must be something.”

  She shook her head and turned around. A line formed between her furrowed brow. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “I could ask the same of you.” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her like he had before, but she’d told him so many times she hated him. He wasn’t up for more rejection and refused to force her to like him by turning up the charm. Instead, like an idiot who didn’t know when to quit, he craved her respect.

  He trailed his fingers down her arms, enjoying how her warm, soft skin tingled his fingertips. When he reached the metal band at her wrist a bitter taste filled his mouth. Reality settled onto his shoulders and sank its claws in deep.

  He’d forced her to come here.

  She offered to help him to read as a means to an end.

  Nothing more.

  He’d tempted trouble by bringing her that blanket. Why had he done that? She’d use him then reject him just like Agatha.

  Zain turned his back to her and crossed his arms. “Tell me this, at least. Will you freeze again?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “At dawn and dusk every day.”

  The knot in his gut returned, compressing into a hard ball. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Tell me why.”

  She crossed her arms, mimicking him, and that stubborn streak he found so irresistible resurfaced in the hard line of her jaw.

  “Feisty, head-strong witch…” Zain paced the three steps between the bed and the cell bars. “You’ll be the death of us both.”

  She placed her cold hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Why don’t we concentrate on something we can do. Like reading the book.”

  The skin at the base of his spine prickled and then the coldness traveled up each vertebra, tensing each muscle along the way.

  He peered at the book lying on Wynne’s cot. The cover seemed to grow and stretch, turning into a dark beast and becoming one of the monsters that used to live under his childhood bed.

  He tightened his hand into a fist and rubbed his knobby knuckles against his palm. The familiar habit, left over from his days in the ring before a scheduled fight, readied him for the upcoming battle.

  Time to face his demon.

  He glanced at the pretty witch and gave her his best winning smile. “By all means. Let’s get started.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Wynne sauntered to the cot, sat on the lumpy mattress, and yanked the book onto her lap. She didn’t want to sit next to Zain, but the bed was the only piece of furniture in her small cell. Could she resist him if he used his charm on her again?

  She wiped her suddenly clammy palms on her pants. After he’d agreed to learn to read, despite his obvious unease, he’d earned a measure of respect from her. Maybe there was more to him than what she’d assumed because he was a fae. That she’d surmised he was all bad and had painted him into the same corner as Aveline burned like a sour pill in her mouth, bitter and hard to swallow.

  Zain rubbed at his chest and paced between the cot and the cell bars. His long braid bounced against his back with each turn.

  She understood his nervousness and what it was like to face your fears. Shoot, she’d just met with the witch council in the biggest interview of her life. Her mind started to drift to her family and friends and her pulse rose, but she didn’t have time to dwell on them right now. She needed to concentrate.

  She flipped open the book to chapter one—History of the Dark Crystal—and tapped on the page. “You ready to start?”

  Zain stopped mid-way between the cell door and the cot. A deep furrow formed on his brow. Behind his hard glare, a touch of vulnerability glimmered in his eyes. “Sure.”

  Back stiff, he approached and lowered himself onto the cot. The metal frame groaned under his weight, and the mattress sagged, forcing her to lean agains
t him shoulder to shoulder. The warmth of his skin penetrated through her blouse and sent a jolt of excitement along her nerves.

  Despite his massive size and the strength that exuded from him with every breath, she didn’t fear him. On the contrary, she fantasized about what it would be like to run her fingers over those muscles and feel the hard strength beneath his smooth skin.

  Heat spread into her cheeks, and she chided herself for admiring him. Maybe he’d turned up the fae charm. She didn’t know, but that was enough to bring her around. Her gaze slid to her mother’s empty cell. When would she return from her shower? The realization she was alone with this fae strained her nerves.

  She tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “How much can you read?”

  Zain focused on the page, and his jaw tightened.

  Wynne exhaled. “I need to know how much of a foundation you have so I have an idea where to start.”

  “Made it through second grade before I quit school. I know the alphabet and can read basic sentences like ‘see Jane run.’” A chagrinned smile tugged at his lips.

  The perfect shape of his bottom lip curved at the corner into that sexy, familiar grin. Without trying, he had sex appeal in spades. What would it be like if he turned on the charm even more?

  She’d be in trouble, that’s what.

  Wynne adjusted herself in the seat and focused on what he’d said. He’d learned the basics. That was a start.

  She smiled at him. “Let’s see what you can remember.”

  He inhaled and nodded, tension embedded in his features.

  Wynne scooted the book closer to him. She felt his shoulders stiffen.

  “It’s okay, just read the words that you know in the first sentence.”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then placed his palm on the book and brought the tome onto his lap. A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his face and landed on his T-shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  A swell of compassion hit at her core. Zain wanted to learn to read, to face this fear, and a measure of respect for him built inside.

  “The…” His brow scrunched as he studied the page.

  “If you don’t know a word, try to sound it out or skip it.” She smiled, encouraging him to continue.

  “The…d…dar…dark…” He shook his head. “I don’t know the next one.”

  She peered at the page. “Crystal.”

  A twitch flicked at the corner of his eye. “The dark crystal…was…cr…created by…”

  “Cernunnos.” She read for him. “You’re doing great.”

  He nodded once, his focused attention still on the page. “In the…time of the…gr…great…”

  “Beginning.” A twinge of pride swelled in her chest.

  “Beginning.” He smiled, and his features lit up with a beauty that rivaled any Chippendale dancer.

  How could anyone who appeared so angelic be a dark fae? But that was part of their seductive power. Sometimes, there was no justice in the world.

  They continued, him reading out loud, her helping him with the difficult words. He turned the pages, one after another, until he reached the end of the first chapter.

  Wynne clapped her hands in a round of applause. “You did it. You read an entire chapter.”

  He straightened his spine then leaned his back against the wall. “I picked out a few words here and there. You read most of it.”

  She turned to face him. “Not true. You sounded out a lot of them. I only helped with the harder ones. You did a great job. Do you want to tackle another chapter?”

  He set the ancient text on the floor. “Not right now.”

  Zain flicked his attention to her lips and lingered there for a moment before focusing on her eyes. A zing of sexual energy flared between them.

  Her arms tingled. Warmth crept from her chest, up her neck, and into her cheeks.

  He raised his hand and brushed a few stray hairs away from her eyelashes. “No one has ever bothered to help me before. I’m not worthy. You show this kindness to me, and it speaks of your honor and integrity.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m not as altruistic as you make me seem. Remember our bargain.”

  “How could I forget? You wish to heal your mother.”

  “I love her, very much.”

  Zain brushed the back of one finger over her cheek. “You respect her as well.”

  “She was a very powerful witch, once. One of the greatest of her time.”

  “Your desire to heal her is commendable, but to what end?” He raised an eyebrow, a solemn glint in his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Unless you plan to escape, but I can’t allow that.”

  Pain flared at her temple. How did he always manage to push her buttons?

  She wanted to pummel him with her fists. Instead, she rose from the cot.

  Zain gripped her around the waist and drew her onto his lap.

  She squealed at the sudden movement and pressed her hands against his chest, his hard muscles firm beneath the shirt. “What are you doing?”

  He cradled her head in his palm and trailed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Showing you my appreciation.”

  Before she could react, he brought his lips to hers and gave her a bruising kiss. She pressed her hard knuckles against his chest, but her resistance slid away with every brush of his tongue. She melted into him, her arms and legs turning as soft and pliable as warm, liquid butter under his onslaught.

  The hot, spicy taste of him settled into her senses, igniting a fire deep inside. She trailed her fingers over his broad shoulders and into the thick braid at the base of his neck. The silky hairs tickled her fingertips, and she gripped the heavy strands, holding him close. He moaned and deepened the kiss. The vibration traveled from his chest to hers and lit up her senses.

  Zain can turn up the charm at a moment’s notice just like any other fae. Don’t let him get too close.

  Mom’s comment slipped through her mind, ringing the warning bells.

  Wynne tensed and withdrew her fingers from Zain’s hair.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  Zain released her, and a low, frustrated growl erupted from his lips. “Feisty witch, you’re driving me crazy.”

  She scooted off him but couldn’t avoid glancing at the bulge in his jeans. Dearest Rhiannon… He was enormous.

  Wynne rushed to the cell door and pressed her burning cheeks against the bars. The cool metal hit her skin like a splash of cold water, returning her to reality and raising goose bumps along her arms.

  Zain was a very dangerous, seductive fae.

  She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him or she’d end up just like her mother, seduced and forgotten. Her gut roiled into a hard ball of determination, and she rubbed her chilled arms. Never…

  “Wynne.” Zain’s deep voice reverberated in the space behind her.

  The urge to rush back into his arms and pick up where they’d left off made her foot twitch. She tightened her grip on the bars and fought the hot, molten desire.

  Why did she find unattainable men so attractive? She’d thought a relationship with Damian was unrealistic. One with Zain was beyond impossible. An absurd laugh bubbled from within, and she clamped her mouth shut before it escaped.

  The cot squeaked, and Zain’s footsteps reverberated off the walls. He stood close by but didn’t touch her. All kinds of emotions—anger, fear, and uncertainty to name a few—whipped through her mind, crashing into each other at bumper car speed with the same jarring impact.

  Zain exhaled long and slow. “We’ve had enough for today. Rest. I’ll return later.”

  She turned to face him, but he’d vanished, leaving only a few swirling pebbles in his wake.

  CHAPTER 15

  P ins and needles jabbed along Wynne’s fingers and up her arm, rousing her from sleep. The scent of aged paper and dried ink filtered into her nose. She groaned, lifted her face from the book’s pages, moved her arm out from under the heavy tome, and sat up. />
  She must’ve fallen asleep while reading from the book. How long had she slept? Frowning down at her rumpled clothing, she smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse.

  Without a clock and no windows or doors, she couldn’t determine whether it was night or day. She blinked. Did the Otherworld even have a sun?

  She’d read spell after spell in the book’s healing section, searching for anything that might help her mother. The incantations had ranged from level one levitation to level four fire bolts that she’d never seen before, but she hadn’t found any mention of overexposure to crystals.

  The tingle in her hand reached a new level of pain. She flexed her fingers, encouraging the blood flow.

  “Wynne? You awake?” Victoria’s soft voice wavered.

  Wynne pushed off the bed and rushed to the cell door.

  On the other side of the aisle, Victoria leaned against the bars. She wore a navy cardigan over a brown top with matching pants. Her freshly washed hair, tied in a bun, exposed her features. The lines in her cheeks seemed less prominent, and a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

  She looked better, healthier. Thank the Goddess.

  Wynne placed her palm against her breastbone. “Mom, how do you feel?”

  Victoria adjusted the edge of her shirt. “Good enough. The shower did me wonders along with the new clothes. How are you holding up?”

  Warmth stung the back of Wynne’s eyes. There were still so many questions Wynne wanted to ask her mother, but the words wouldn’t come. She grasped the bars and shook her head.

  “I’m so sorry. This can’t be easy for you.” Victoria coughed. “Zain was here, wasn’t he?”

  A zing of adrenaline surged through Wynne. “Yes. So?”

  Her mother leaned her forehead against the bars and focused her familiar blue eyes on Wynne. “Oh, honey bear. Be careful of Zain.”

  Wynne’s heart beat double time.

  “Daniella was caught with her lover—a fae. We stripped her of her head of household status and banished her from the council.” Aveline’s comment tumbled through Wynne’s mind.