by Marie Harte
Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
When the Starrs Align
ISBN # 978-1-78184-484-7
©Copyright Marie Harte 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2013
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 53 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.
Wanton Witches
WHEN THE STARRS ALIGN
Marie Harte
Regan Riley has come to town for a little revenge. Before the Starr brothers become too powerful to take down, she’s going to bully the bullies. But when the tables are turned, she finds it hard to say no to the sexy warlocks who need her more than they know.
Ten years ago, Regan Riley left town to save herself from the scourge of the Starrs. Twin brothers Chance and Warrick have tormented her one too many times, so her father ships her away to safety. But when he asks her to return to celebrate a once-in-a-lifetime event, she’s all for it. Before the twins ascend and grow more powerful than she can handle, she’s going to show them what it’s like to be bullied.
Chance and Warrick have been looking for the shapeshifting beauty for years. Some out-of-control magic in their youth made her miserable, and they want her back. But when the tricky cat tries pranking them, they decide on another way of apologising. In bed. Sure, they need a familiar or a bonded lover to help them survive their Becoming during the blood moon. But no way in hell they’ll ask Regan for help and risk hurting her. They lost her once before. They can’t do it again. They’d rather die knowing she’s safe than lose her to vampires when the blood moon takes hold. But when Regan wrestles the decision from their hands, it’s do or die. Because this time, losing her isn’t an option.
Chapter One
“I know you took my watch. Give it back.” A dark-haired, brooding mage, with eyes so black they’d always put Regan in mind of endless night, glared at his platinum blond twin.
“Please. What would I want with something that tells time?”
“Perhaps you wanted a keepsake? Because we both know that when the blood moon passes, I’ll be the stronger of us.”
“Bullshit. We both know I’m the one with all the talent.”
A blast of heat, then a sucking energy surrounded the black warlock before he shot it towards his brother. Even from her distance, Regan could feel the warmth, could see the aura of power flow from one brother to the other. It knocked the blond on his ass.
“Shit.” In retaliation, the white warlock rose, blew him a kiss, and shards of ice formed from the moisture in the air, striking the dark mage like tiny needles.
Ha! How do you like it, demonspawn? What does it feel like to be bullied by a Starr? Regan Riley had spent too many days on the run from the Starr brothers while growing up in Darkton, North Carolina. After ten blessed years of peace, she had no intention of again becoming that scared little geek she’d once been.
She moved on stealthy feet—all four of them—and sneaked out of the house with a handsome watch in her mouth. She darted into the shadow of the barnyard that the jerks arguing inside the main house claimed as theirs and dropped the timepiece. But not pleased that they might be able to find it so easily, she looked around and spotted the perfect hiding place. Suckers.
She returned to her watching spot and hunkered down behind tall grass that hadn’t seen a mower or weed-whacker in too long. Her whiskers twitched and her ears alerted her to the presence of field mice nearby. As much as she loved taking on the size and temperament of a domestic tabby, they tended to like to play a little too much. Maybe next time she’d assume the form of a panther to scare the crap out of her adversaries. She smirked at the thought and watched them launch lightning bolts, coils of dark energy and elemental whips of fire and ice at one another as they took their fight outdoors.
Still little boys in big bodies tormenting others. But this time she’d been smart enough to keep out of the crossfire and let them hammer each other.
“I need my watch to help me focus,” Warrick, the black warlock, growled at his brother.
“Screw off,” Chance sneered. “Maybe if you concentrated more on academics and less on swordplay—really, bro, in this day and age?—you wouldn’t need an object to focus you.”
“The sword isn’t for this dimension, asshole. And you’re one to talk. You would have failed out of high school if I hadn’t pulled you through.”
“Please. I was doing Principal Renner’s daughter. No way I was flunking.”
Warrick shook his head. “It’s all fun and games to you. This is serious, Chance. We have to focus. The blood moon is in two weeks. I need to concentrate, and so do you. That spell I was working on might seriously save our asses.”
“Maybe.”
She cocked her head, interested despite not wanting to be.
Chance sighed and lowered his hands. “All I know is that if we can’t find a familiar by then, we might as well call it quits.”
“True. Neither of us can successfully hold onto our power if we’re too busy trying to—”
She leant forward, not sure why he’d stopped talking. They might lose their power? Bingo. Now what could she possibly do to help that happen?
Then Warrick turned and stared right at her, through the tall grass hiding her small form from view.
Uh-oh.
Warrick smiled, and the grin did nothing to reassure her. “I’ve got her now.”
Wondering how, once again, the tables had been turned, and not in her favour, she spun and raced through the barn and out into the forest behind it. She’d lose them in the woods for sure. Then she’d try to find some other way to get even with the idiots before they became too powerful for her to handle. If they weren’t already. Two weeks, and time was ticking…
“Don’t just stand there. Get her.”
Chance watched his brother let out a war cry and give chase, knowing they’d never find Regan if she didn’t want them to. She’d successfully hidden from them for a decade. A forest of trees would be like a walk in the park to a shapeshifter with her talent.
He grinned, pleased as hell that she hadn’t forgott
en them. Given the opportunity to ignore them—because they didn’t matter anymore—or get even with them, she’d gone for the jugular. Thank God.
For years they’d done their best to convince their mother that no one but Regan would do. But Lisabeth Starr was old-school. As much as she loved her sons, she wanted only the best for them. And according to what she’d been taught, shapeshifters sat about a dozen rungs below warlocks and witches. Even below all the other inferior magical beings.
He loved his mother, but he harboured no illusions about her snobbery. To be fair, though he and Warrick could have bonded with another female on any number of occasions, something inside them both had known from the very beginning that it would only ever be Regan for them.
Unfortunately, immaturity, hormones and uncontrollable power had turned him and his brother into—well, into monsters—for a few years.
Warrick returned, breathing hard and swearing. “Son of a bitch. I don’t know how, but I lost her.”
“Dumbass. I told you that would happen.”
Warrick flipped him the finger and stalked past him into the house.
“What about your watch?” he called after his twin, following him into the kitchen.
Warrick made a face.
“What? Did she take it?” That would make tracking her down immensely easy—the locator spell on the watch would take them to her in a heartbeat. They’d set her up with a fake argument and bingo, she’d fallen for it. Even better, she’d taken an enchanted item.
“No.” Warrick grimaced. “She buried it.”
“Oh?”
A pause. “In horse shit.”
Chance blinked, then started laughing. More so when Warrick glared and a burst of fire lit up the kitchen hearth. “Well, she had cause. Remember when you once set fire to her favourite dollhouse?”
“I was trying to decorate a doll’s dresser but the spell went wrong on me. You’re the one that turned her dog into a dragon.”
“I thought she’d like it. And she did.”
“Until it ate her cat.”
Chance frowned. He’d forgotten that. “Yeah? Well, you made her cry on more than one occasion.”
“So did you.” Warrick groaned. “I don’t see how we’re going to make this work. She hates us.”
“Women love us.”
“Not this woman.”
“It’s not our fault.” Or so Chance kept telling himself. “We knew she was ours. We just didn’t know the feeling would cause us to—”
“Freak out? Ambush her at every turn? Woo her with toads and mice and snails?”
“Which most cats like to play with. Not our fault she didn’t shift until she left us. I always thought our gifts of prey would help her find her centre.”
Warrick shook his head. “Instead they sent her away.”
“If I recall, her father did that. But hey, we convinced Phil we’re on the level. Good guys with only her future in mind. If we could get her dad to okay the bonding, she should be no problem. Right?”
“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“One of us has to, Doom and Gloom.”
“It took us ten years to convince Phil we need her. We have two weeks to show Regan we mean no harm. And we have to find her to do that.”
“Yeah, about that. I have an idea…”
* * * *
Regan ran until she couldn’t run any more, and she realised she hadn’t felt so good in ages. Leaving Darkton had been necessary but bittersweet. For all that the Starrs had harassed her, she’d had a major crush on the pair. She’d missed her friends and family in town as well when she’d gone to live with her aunt. Aunt Olivia was a kind soul, but so dull. Boring. Mundane. Without magic.
Life in Spokane had been peaceful. Regan had grown up loved. Her father had visited often, and she’d developed friendships that had taught her much about herself and who she wanted to be.
Yet throughout her high school and college years, she’d never forgotten the Starrs. And who could blame her? Her recent escape from Warrick had been exhilarating and a touch scary, because if anyone could catch her, it would be him. Faster than any normal human should be. Than even a common mage should be.
Like Chance, Warrick had always been a little bit…more.
Both men stood heads above her, and at five-feet-eleven, Regan was no petite flower. Tall and lithe with curves in the right places, she had feline grace and an awareness about herself that she’d finally come to trust. Sensuality was not a bad thing. Nor was curiosity about life, no matter how much Aunt Olivia had tried to rein her in.
And that curiosity had all started with the Starrs. Two brothers—one dark, one light. Twin warlocks born during the zenith of the blood moon. Twins in themselves were rare and cause for celebration, resulting in double the power for each child. But the Starrs’ birth, four years before hers to the exact day, had occurred during a sacred period in the magic cycle—one that happened only once every five hundred years.
She’d often wondered if their unique birth was why people seemed so drawn to them. As much as she’d disliked their incessant teasing about her budding figure and constant attempts to scare her with insects and small rodents, she’d been fascinated with the pair.
Handsome, charming—even occasionally to her—smart, popular. They could do no wrong in the eyes of most of the town and featured in every girl’s fantasies. Hell, she continued to have odd dreams about them, now and again. Hard to explain, even to herself, considering she hadn’t seen either bully in a decade.
Not liking her incessant curiosity about the pair, she tried to shake off the annoying interest and trotted back to her father’s house. The twins would know she’d want to spend time with her father, so in the event they tracked her to his house, she’d worn something to camouflage her scent and voice. An amulet that still sat around her neck, fixed to what looked like a collar.
After climbing up to the second floor of her father’s old studio, she slid inside and shifted into her human form again, pleased to wear her own skin. But not for long. She’d returned to town at the behest of her father to witness the twins’ Becoming, at the rite of the blood moon, a procession that had members from covens across the country in attendance. She understood the significance. Everyone in Darkton would benefit from two such powerful warlocks to maintain order and protection over the enspelled town. With the Starrs contributing to the power structure, there would be no more threat of vampire or demon takeover.
She’d wanted very much to come back as herself, but she knew that would only make it easier for them to screw with her again. And she wanted her own revenge before they became too important to mess with. Taking that watch had been the first of many such pranks she intended to pull. Harmless stuff, but actions that would relieve old wounds.
So instead of remaining in her own form, Regan concentrated and let her bones and muscles reshape themselves into the appearance of her aunt. With a sigh, she slowly stepped into the clothing she’d left behind before she’d shifted three hours ago.
Once again dressed in slacks, loafers and a thin, rose-coloured sweater, she patted her aunt’s bun of mahogany hair streaked with grey and walked down the steps into the space her father now used mainly for storage.
Touching the amulet at her neck and confident no one would see it for the powerful charm it was, she left the studio and walked through the backyard to her father’s house.
Inside the red, two-storey colonial, an eclectic mix of old and new decorated Phil Riley’s humble abode. An artist of great renown, her father painted with magic, infusing each of his pieces with wonder and skill. Nothing so ordinary as portraits or landscapes—her dad crafted magical renderings of unicorns and centaurs, old myth versus new magic. Her favourite, the duelling wizards, hung over her bed at home in Seattle.
That the wizards in the picture bore startling resemblance to Warrick and Chance meant nothing. The men were handsome. Why shouldn’t her father use them as his muses?
“There you are.” Her father smiled at her. “I was hoping to find you back, Olivia.”
The emphasis on her aunt’s name warned her to play along. “Yes, Phil. Just inspecting your garden out back as well as your old studio. Marvellous space.” Years of living with her aunt gave her imitation authenticity. A good thing, since her aunt had visited her father more than once over the years.
Waiting for whatever had urged her father to caution, she soon found it a few seconds later. From the hallway came double trouble. Warrick and Chance turned the corner and entered the living room. They stood side by side and studied her with an intensity she could feel deep inside. Good God, they’re sexy.
Not sexy, she corrected herself. Annoying. Brutish. Mean. Except they didn’t look mean as they smiled sweetly at her aunt.
Determined to get her head on straight, she reminded herself of the time they’d filled her bedroom with snakes and frogs, and inwardly shivered. Back then she’d seriously freaked out. But after realising nothing had tried to bite her or been venomous, she’d overcome her fear of snakes awfully fast. Still, she refused to let the past repeat itself. In her father’s house, she remained safe.
She didn’t fear them taking her away, not when she stood inside a warded home, but she’d wanted to go about town incognito while she was here. She could only hope her ruse would hold.
Regan gave them Aunt Olivia’s sweetest smile. “My. You boys sure have grown.”
“Why, Olivia Riley. You look prettier every time we see you.” Chance would resort to flattery. Warrick just stood there looking grim.
“Oh, now. Stop.” She patted her hair. “Now tell me, what should I expect from your Becoming? It’s all anyone in town can talk about. Are you two ready to take that step?”
The Becoming happened once in a witch or warlock’s life, when they grew into the final phase of their powers. The ceremony normally included them bonding to a lover or taking a familiar—if the mages in question had no inclination yet to bond and didn’t have an animal through which to cleave their energy—to facilitate a path towards their innate power.
