by Kim Loraine
“Go on. Go visit him. I won’t tell Helena.”
“Are you a mind reader now too?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. But I know that look. I’ll call you when we need you.”
Nodding, I smile and rush up the stairs. After taking a deep breath, I pull all my power to my chest and focus on Grant. His scent. His dark eyes. His warm lips. This time, when I use my magic, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe Helena had been successful. If so, we truly stand a chance at taking down Calista.
If the tea leaves are right and love will find me soon, I need to be alive to keep it.
9
Izzy
Wandering through the house, it becomes clear Grant is away. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here, leading him on, letting him think I’m his. I consider leaving, moving on and trying to rid myself of this attachment to him. But the front door opens and the heavy sound of boots hitting hardwood reaches my ears from my place in the kitchen, making my heart leap in excitement.
A deep sigh followed by the clink of keys has me gripping the countertop. Maybe he won’t want to see me. I did leave him with nothing more than a case of blue balls three days ago.
“I can smell you, little witch.” His voice caresses my skin and sends pleasure washing over me. But when he rounds the corner, I lose the ability to speak for a moment. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a tight gray Henley that does nothing to hide his toned chest.
Clearing my throat, I hop onto the counter, trying for casual. “I thought I’d check in. See how things are going.”
He drags his hand through his hair and groans. “How things are going? Are you having me on?”
The stress in his voice gets to me more than it should. I don’t like knowing I’ve upset him. “What?”
“It’s not safe out there for you.”
“Oh, come off it. The pack won’t find me. I wear a glamor anytime I’m out and you are the one they sent to kill us. Here I am. Have you killed me yet?”
He clenches his jaw and takes a long breath. “They found your flat. It’s only a matter of time before they find you wherever you went.”
Stomach churning, I let that sink in. They’d been closer than I realized. We’re not strong enough yet to fend them off. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m bloody sure. But it’s not just that. You left with no trace. You’re my mate and you left me without giving me any indication you’d return. What if something had happened to you?”
“I’m fine.” My words sound petulant even to my own ears. “And I’m not your mate. But I’d definitely like to fuck again.”
Stalking across the room, he cups my face between his hands and claims my mouth in a searing kiss. The breath leaves my lungs and any thought of staying coolly neutral evaporates. He scoops me into his arms and carries me up the stairs.
“I’ve no clue if you’re planning to leave me again, but I’m not going to let you leave without showing you how much I can give you.” The tension in his voice sends shivers across my skin. “Siren song or not. You’re mine.”
Siren song? What is he on about? I want to ask, but he silences me with another kiss and I forget everything I was planning to say.
He lays me out across his big bed and stands over me, his large frame and dark stare sending shivers of want through me.
“Don't just stand there. You said you were going to show me how much you can give. Right now, you're giving me a whole load of nothing.” I try to keep the desperate need from my voice, but the slight twitch of his lips makes my thighs clench and I know it's obvious what he does to me.
“Anticipation makes it all the more intense. Each time I touch you, I want you to beg me to keep going.”
I scissor my legs and fight a groan of annoyance. This is so unnecessary. “I'll beg you right bloody now.”
When I reach for him, he backs away. “You left me,” he says again. “Without a way to find or contact you. Without care for everything I've told you about our connection.”
“The only connection we have is between the sheets. Stop it with all this mate nonsense. You can fuck me all you want, but I'm not yours.”
His eyes flare an inhuman amber color. “You are.”
Sitting up, I move to leave the bed and get out of his home. I am not going to let him sway me on this. “If you can't accept what I need, I'll be leaving.”
“And what about me? I need to protect you. I need to provide for you. This isn’t something I can just… turn off.”
I shake my head and stand. “This was a mistake. I need to go.”
His big palm slides over my shoulder until it rests on the center of my chest. Warmth radiates through me at the contact. “I can't stop you, but I need to hear it from your lips. Tell me you don't want me, that you don't feel the need to be with me. Tell me that, and I'll let you be.”
I open my mouth to say just that, but I can't. Nothing comes out other than a frustrated sigh.
He grins. “Right, then.” That hand on my chest moves up until he cups my nape and pulls me close.
Our lips crash together and now, instead of slow and teasing, we're on fire. His hardness presses against my belly and an ache takes hold between my legs. Why do I need this man so much? Because I’m his mate. The thought flies through my mind before I can stop it. No. I’m a witch, not a fucking shifter who can be controlled by some predestined bond. This isn’t true love and devotion. It’s the equivalent of a shifter love spell and I know it. But I’ll take all the orgasms he can give me until my time is up.
Rough hands tangle in my hair as he devours my mouth and I just want more. More of this. More us. More Grant. My fingers play over his belt buckle, slipping the worn leather free of it’s binding until his fly is ready and available. Sliding the zipper down, I find what I want. Him, hard and ready for me. Heated skin meets my fingertips, a welcome distraction from thoughts of destiny and forever.
“You can’t deny what we have, Beauty,” Grant says through a groan as I stroke him.
I need him to stop talking. Sinking to my knees, I tug down his jeans and grip his shaft, pumping slowly. The muscles in his thighs tense and a bead of clear liquid shines at his tip. I can’t help myself. I lean in and run my tongue over the salty drop, making him release a guttural moan as he fists his hand in my hair. When I close my lips around him, he hisses and his hips buck. The ache between my legs intensifies and I can’t help but groan around his length at the thought of him being inside me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hips pumping in shallow thrusts as I suck him off. “I don’t want to finish inside your mouth. I need your cunt.” He pulls out of my mouth and grips my arms, tugging me until I’m standing before him. Dark gaze traveling over my form, he shakes his head. “You’re wearing far too much clothing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So are you.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he grabs his shirt at the collar with both hands and tears the thin cotton down the middle. He’s all tattoos, piercings, and toned muscles. Arousal courses through me. I’ve never seen a man as handsome and dangerous as Grant. “Your turn, little witch.”
I slip out of the top I’m wearing, quickly pulling the fabric over my head. My nipples tighten, either from the cool air or Grant’s heated gaze, I really don’t know. His large hands cup my breasts, causing sparks to race along my body. I shiver and lean into his touch, needing us to be closer still.
“Please, Grant. I need you. God, I need you all the time.”
A look of pure satisfaction crosses his face and I fight the urge to slap him. He did it. He got me to beg and to tell him how I crave him. But he doesn’t tease or taunt. Instead, my beast yanks my skirt over my hips, pushes me back onto the bed and tugs my knickers to the side.
“You can have me.” His words are a harsh rasp pushed through desire as he fills me in one long thrust.
If I thought I could avoid this man, I was wrong. With every stroke of his cock inside me, I climb toward something more powerful than I’ve ever thought I�
��d be ready for. Grant’s right. We could have something special. I just hope I don’t ruin him in the process.
Grant
Beauty hums in her sleep, just soft melodies of comfort, but they speak to my need for her. I’m far too wrapped up in her and my thoughts feel clouded with desire and a deep aching longing. It’s not normal. Cold realization settles in my gut. They’re sirens. Lachlan’s words echo in my mind. The stories say if you hear their song they can possess your heart, make you think you belong together. Here I am, in my goddamned bed with a siren and she’s humming in her sleep. I’m a fool. Led around by my dick, I’ve walked right into her trap.
But, God help me, it feels real.
Sliding out of the bed, I pull on some clothes and head downstairs. There’s too much in my head and I need to be away from her if I’m going to get my thoughts straight. In the silent stillness of the wee hours, my thoughts are heavy with the weight of what she may have done. If she really caught me in her siren spell, am I missing out on my true mate? Perhaps she knew all along that my pack was coming after her and she sought me out in that blasted pub.
I grab my phone off the charger and pull up my text messages. Scrolling through, I find Lachlan’s name and begin to type.
I’ve got one. She’s here with me but I think she’s got me spellbound.
My thumb hovers over the send key. I could tell him now, and this will be over. I’ll be free of her. But instinct screams at me that I’m wrong, that this is our destined path. What if I send this message and hand my mate over to be murdered? Just the thought of her suffering, dying, makes my chest tight with a sense of wrongness. I can’t do it. But I need to find out the truth. If I’m under her spell, I’ll make her release me.
Even the thought of her in my bed makes me ache to go to her. I’ll savor these last few moments with her, and in the morning, reality will take over. Tossing my phone on the kitchen counter, I make my way upstairs, to the woman between my sheets, the one who holds my heart and soul in her hands, either by fate or by magic.
Izzy
I’m warm, downright cozy, and smiling when I wake. For a few beats, I forget where I am. My bed isn’t this soft, my sheets aren’t this nice, and I certainly shouldn’t have a broad shouldered, hulk of a Scot in here with me. But I do. Grant’s big hand cups my breast as he breathes deeply and holds me close. We’re bloody spooning. I don’t spoon. I don’t let men stay the night. But here we are, two spoons in the damned drawer. What’s more important about this scenario is, I fucking like it.
“Don’t move a muscle, mo leannan.” His words are a rumble over my shoulder before I even attempt to slip out of his hold.
“I just need the loo.”
He sighs. “And just like that, the spell is broken.”
My heart gives a lurch. Spell. That one word reminds me of so much more than my magic. It makes me think of the lies magic tells—of Tristan.
“Let me free, you great beast.”
Grant chuckles but releases me. “As you wish, Beauty.”
I can feel his gaze on me as I walk around the bed and to the open bathroom door. My little knickers don’t do much to hide my ass, but surprisingly, he doesn’t utter a single comment. There’s a condom wrapper in the rubbish bin and I can’t stop my smile at the memory of him frowning at my insistence on protection. He has to finish inside me to seal our mate bond, so we’ll prevent that from happening. By the time I emerge, he’s gone, but the scent of freshly brewed tea floats through the house, beckoning me.
He’s laid my jeans on the now neatly made bed. So, the shifter is a neat freak. That’s interesting. I dress quickly, eager to get some caffeine in my system. As I descend the stairs, I hear the morning news anchors chittering away and the scrape of dishes.
“I can hear you over there, Witch.” God, the sound of him sends shivers through me. The good kind.
“I can hear you too. You’re not exactly a ninja.”
He laughs, making me rush around the corner in hopes of catching that smile. It’s there, reaching all the way up to his eyes and making my chest tighten in a way I haven’t experienced in a very long time. Handing me a plate, he gestures to the egg in a frame alongside beans and sausage.
“Hungry?”
I grin, I can’t help it. “Famished.”
Without asking, he pours a mug of tea and sets it down on his rustic dining table across from his place setting. He doesn’t say anything else, just sits at the table and eats as I fill my own plate. His gaze follows me though. As if he’s suddenly unsure of me. When I settle across from him, he takes a slow sip from his cup.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I offer, feeling more than a little awkward.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Like the dead.”
I take a bite of my sausage, loving the flavor.
“You’re too bloody trusting,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“I told you I was hired to kill you, and here you are, happily eating the food I might have poisoned.”
My stomach feels a little ill at the prospect. But I see his truth. He wasn’t lying about not wanting to hurt me. “I’m your mate.”
“Are you now?”
“That’s what you said. What you kept saying over and over.”
“And I want it to be true, but part of me wonders if you’re keeping me under some kind of spell. You are a witch, after all.”
A spark of anger ignites in my chest. He thinks I’ve bewitched him? “I’m not that desperate for a shag.”
“How do I know that?”
I let out a slight huff. “You didn’t seem to be worried about it last night. Or at the pub.”
His eyes flare with lust at the reminder of what we’d done in his bed.
“The pub was before I knew you were a fucking siren. You’ve probably spellbound me. You’re leading me to my death.”
My gut clenches but the cold lump in my chest turns to fiery anger at the implication. It’s not me who uses her siren ability. But if he thinks I’d try something like that on him, he’s wrong. “I wouldn’t waste my song on you.”
Eyes blazing with fury, he pushes back his chair and stands to his full height. Dear God but the man is big. “You wouldn’t, would you? So tell me, witch, what kind of man would you rather have?”
I stand as well, my small stature even more obvious against his large one. “Any other.”
Should I goad a shifter who is clearly a little unhinged when it comes to me? Probably not. But, I’m dying in a year anyway. What have I got to lose?
“And while we’re at it, I prefer blonds,” I toss at him.
He runs a hand through his mussed dark hair and growls, a full blown, animal growl. “You didn’t when we first met.”
“You were the first bloke I saw that night. I hadn’t even started searching for the right man to warm my bed and make me come.”
Those big hands of his press on the top of the table. “You found me, lass.”
“And yet, you had to kidnap me.” I back away slowly, ready to throw a protection spell. “And you left me highly unsatisfied.”
His jaw clenches and his knuckles turn white. The wood tabletop creaking under the strain. “That’s not how I remember it.”
The man has some serious balls. He knows what I am, which means he has some idea of what I can do to him.
“I think we’re done here,” I say, tossing my hair over one shoulder as I turn away from his burning stare. “It was a mistake to come back.” Catching sight of my handbag on the kitchen counter, I snatch it with one hand and head for the front door, but my purse knocks his phone to the floor in the process. I pick up the device on reflex and hit the home button. An unsent text message is the first thing I see. A message to Lachlan. Giving me up—to him.
I can feel stress rolling off Grant in waves. “Give me that,” he says, his voice low and deadly.
“You…lied to me. I knew I shouldn’t believe you. I knew it.”
“What?
No. I never lied. You’re the one who lied. Using your witchy wiles on me. Bewitching me.”
I toss his phone at his face and turn on my heel, bolting for the door. I don’t have enough power to send myself home, but I can get as far away as my feet will take me.
My hand is on the doorknob, pulling the heavy wood open as his footsteps grow closer. Slow, measured, easy. He’s not in a rush, and that infuriates me. Does he think I won’t be able to leave? Does the bloody bastard think I’m that easy?
The fresh air hits me, smelling of grass, and vaguely, cow shit. We’re in the countryside. I suspected as much, but now that I see the open space around us, I’m sure of it.
“You can’t be out here alone, Beauty.”
I continue walking, not looking back at him. “Why does it matter? You’re giving me over to your pack. Why not just kill me while I slept?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. I can’t.”
Anger has me clenching my jaw. “You nearly did. What was that text all about?”
“You have to admit this is suspicious. You’re right, witches and shifters don’t mate. And last night…you were singing in your sleep. Winding your spell around my heart. I could feel my need for you growing with every note.”
“That’s bloody ridiculous.” I sigh, wanting to tell him why it’s ridiculous but knowing he won’t listen or believe me. “Now leave me be, or kill me, Beast.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to kill an innocent woman. But if you leave here, you’ll be found.”
Summoning my power, I close my eyes and murmur a soft incantation under my breath as I invoke a glamor spell to change my appearance. Now I look like a ninety-year-old woman, wispy white hair, wrinkles, and all. I even throw in a hunched back and cataracts to make it look really spot on.
Turning to face him, I smile. “No one will know me here. Especially not like this.”
A confused expression furrows his brow as he stares at me. A grin turns up the corner of his mouth and the man shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like what? You’re fucking fit, lass.”
