Bewitching the Beast

by Tamara Hughes

  He hurried over and grabbed her waist, his hands spanning that enticing curve. “Easy there. No unnecessary risks, remember?”

  She flinched away from his touch, then cringed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “No need to worry anyway. I’m on a short stool.” She straightened and climbed down, carrying an envelope and a fairly large wooden box.

  “Last night you didn’t need a stool to slip and fall. Your feet were on solid ground.”

  Tess cocked a brow. “If I’d taken the time to go get my stool, I wouldn’t have slipped at all.” She walked to her bed and sat down on the edge. The box had a pentagon engraved into its polished surface.

  “What’s all this?” he asked. “I just told you I have a beast living inside of me.”

  “And I believe you.” She opened the envelope and removed several sheets of paper. “My grandmother died several years ago. She left me this letter. It’s filled with advice, hope for the future, her love for me.” Tess flipped to the last page. “The letter ends with, ‘Open the box when The Beast is near.’”

  “You’ve had this keepsake from your grandmother for years and you never opened it?”

  Tess snickered. “Right. Never opened it. That’s funny.” She set the box on her lap, flipped the metal catch on its front, and opened the lid. “The weird thing is . . . it’s empty.”

  Ethan peered into the red, velvet-lined interior. Empty. “May I?” Taking it from her, he examined it on all sides. “It’s heavy for an empty box.” He searched inside, studying every surface. Something. He closed his eyes. Yes, he could sense it. Energy. He placed his hand inside the box, and the pull grew stronger. He tapped up the velvet sides and along the base. “Seems solid enough.”

  He took his jackknife out of his pocket and eased the tip along the bottom seam, slicing through the thread holding the edges together.

  “Hey, that was my grandmother’s.” She reached for the box.

  “Wait.” Once three seams had been cut, he tugged on the velvet lining at the bottom and revealed a semicircle cut into a false floor. Inserting the tip of his knife into the opening, he lifted the floor. A turquoise necklace and a book lay inside the hidden compartment.

  Tess picked up the silver chain and studied the sky-blue teardrop stone. An inch long, the stone didn’t look magical in any way, yet its power radiated. “It’s probably a good-luck charm of some kind. It’s filled with positive energy.”

  She settled the chain around her neck and clasped it in the back, then lifted the book out of the box, the brown leather cover faded and worn. An envelope peeked out the top. Tess removed it from the book. The thick stationary whispered as she unfolded the page and began to read. “It’s from Gram. It says, ‘Tess, I’m passing on to you an amulet for luck and protection, and my Book of Shadows. May the spells inside serve you well as you fight the beast.’”

  Tess tensed. “Fight the beast? That doesn’t sound good.”

  A mixture of hope and apprehension flared inside Ethan’s chest. Maybe Tess was destined to defeat The Beast, and finally, his torture would come to an end. On the other hand, if she failed, they’d both be screwed. Damn.

  Chapter 6

  What the hell? “Gram was a witch? I knew she had her own faith and believed in living in harmony with the earth, but a witch?” Tess rested Gram’s book on her lap and stared at its cover. “I thought she was a hippie stuck in the 1960s.”

  Ethan closed the lid and set her grandmother’s box aside. “Hold on. This is a good thing. You can use this book to protect yourself.” He wrapped his arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze, then released her. “Sorry. You probably don’t want me too close.”

  “No, it’s fine. I could use a friend about now.”

  Nodding, he slid his arm across her shoulders and rubbed her arm. “Your grandmother was only trying to help.”

  “This is crazy. There’s no such thing as witches.” She leaned into him, relaxing into his strength. “I mean, I’ve heard of people who thought they were witches, but Gram?” Gram had been her rock, calm and steady. She’d always believed everything Gram told her. Now this. Was it possible? “I don’t even know what a Book of Shadows is.”

  “It’s like a witch’s diary.”

  “A what?” She must have given her pinched-face, I’m-going-to-have-a-meltdown look because he slipped his arm behind her and stroked her back.

  “It’s a book containing a witch’s thoughts and spells.”

  Mmm. The brush of his fingers along her spine. She resisted the urge to arch into his touch. Instead, she scanned through the volume on her lap. Gram’s diary? “How do you know what this book is?”

  He shrugged. “From the Idiot’s Guide you like so much.”

  “Figures.”

  Ethan stared at her, a smile on his face, and a giddy thrill burst inside her chest.

  “What?”

  “I knew you were special. Something about you when I first saw you, and then you zapped The Beast . . .”

  That giddy sensation disappeared. Reality squashed it flat. Ethan expected her to . . . “Hold on. I’m not a witch. The only thing I know about witches is what I’ve learned from watching The Wizard of Oz. So, unless I’m supposed to smack The Beast with this book, we’re in serious trouble. As for the zapping, I didn’t even realize I’d done it.”

  “The point is that you have the power within you, even if you don’t know how to use it yet.” He stifled a yawn, drawing his arm away. “Your grandmother was a witch, and she obviously wanted you to try magic to defeat this thing.”

  Gram. It didn’t make sense. “If Gram knew I’d have to fight a beast, why didn’t she tell me? She could have taught me this stuff instead of leaving me a book and a good luck letter.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have time.”

  “If she had enough time to whip up these notes, she could have told me in person.”

  “Then maybe she didn’t know if it would happen.” Ethan’s eyelids drooped.

  Tess huffed a short laugh. “Oh, yeah. Sorry honey, I didn’t want to worry you, or I would have told you sooner, but you need to fight an evil beast. Good luck with that.”

  Ethan’s eyes closed, and his chin sank to his chest.

  She blew out a breath. “All right, tired guy, I’ll set you up with a pillow and blanket on the couch.”

  Shaking his head, he blinked his eyes open. “I’ll be fine. I just need a quick shower to wake me up.” He stood. “Maybe we can stop at my place tomorrow to get some clothes.”

  “Yeah, we can do that.” Tess glanced at the open closet, and guilt pricked her conscience. Matt’s things hung next to hers. She pushed the feeling aside. “For now you can borrow something of Matt’s.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded and rose to her feet, then led the way down the hall to the bathroom. “But Matt wasn’t a pajama kind of guy, and I’m not sure if any of his shorts or pants will fit. He was a little shorter and stockier than you.”

  “Just a shirt would be great.”

  When they reached the bathroom, she stopped. “There should be a clean towel under the sink.”

  Ethan stepped inside and opened the cabinet.

  “I’ll go get you something to wear.” She returned to her bedroom and slid open the drawer holding Matt’s T-shirts. Her breath caught in her throat. His New Jersey Marathon shirt lay on top, and the worst moment of her life flashed before her eyes. Matt in this very room, wearing that shirt, gasping for breath.

  “Find anything?” Ethan called out.

  “Just a second.” She shoved the drawer shut and jogged to the closet to scan Matt’s small section of shirts. What should she take? Nothing seemed right. She grasped a blue button-down shirt but hesitated. It had been one o
f Matt’s favorites. Her fingers smoothed over the soft fabric. God, she missed him.

  “Tess?” Ethan stood in the doorway.

  Stop overthinking this. She grabbed a white dress shirt Matt rarely wore and handed it to him.

  Ethan’s eyes met hers with a look of understanding. “Thanks.”

  His compassion made her nerves twitch. She snatched up the letter and book from her bed and hurried down the hallway. “So what’s with the glove?” she blurted, eager to put her mind on something else. “Do you shower with that thing on?”

  When she peered back at him, his hardened gaze assessed her. He followed her until they reached the bathroom, then stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Okay.” She continued to the living room where the cold pizza on the table beckoned. She set her grandmother’s things on the scuffed coffee table and grabbed a piece. Taking a large bite, she sank down onto the couch. Tomato sauce and cheese tickled her taste buds.

  The spray of the shower hissed from the bathroom, and her mind conjured images of Ethan behind the door, naked and wet. The water sliding over muscular shoulders, down a broad back to narrow hips and tightly rounded . . . Ay Caramba. Someone turned up the heat in here.

  She flapped the collar of her blouse, hoping the slight air movement would cool her jets, and grabbed the letter from the table.

  Tess studied her grandmother’s scrawl. Gram wrote like a sausage, sloppy as hell. Lucky for her, she’d learned to read messy handwriting well, given her own hen-scratching. She stared at the message, deciphering the wide loops and slanted lines.

  Tess, I wish I could tell you more about what you must do, but all I know came from a vision I had when you were young. I saw two beasts, one friend and one enemy. The vision was short and vague, with no location or time frame. Only you and two men with glowing green eyes.

  The Book of Shadows contains spells that may help. The rest will be up to you. I wish I could be there. My only regret in life is that I wasn’t able to prepare you for this.

  I hope you never see this letter, that all our prayers and spells have kept you safe.

  Just as she finished the last line of the note, the light beside her popped and darkened. Nice. And she’d just changed that bulb. At least it wasn’t another falling lantern.

  The bathroom door opened with a squeak of its hinges, and steam drifted out into the hall. Holy crap. He’d been serious about the quick shower thing. Had he even gotten wet?

  Ethan walked out in jeans and Matt’s white shirt. Although a bit baggy, the cuffs reached his wrists. He’d left the top buttons open, exposing a plain silver cross around his neck. Tess’s gaze roamed from his wet hair to his bare feet, and her heart beat a little faster. The shirt stuck to him in places, molding itself to his thick biceps and flat stomach. The giggly girl inside her had the urge to do the hair flip and apply copious amounts of lip-gloss.

  She snapped her mouth shut, before she drooled all over herself.

  He dropped the shirt he’d worn in a heap on the floor and headed to the table, a bit of a strut in his stride, loose but purposeful. Grabbing a slice of pizza, he turned his attention on her. “See anything useful?”

  Anything useful? She could find a whole lot of ways he could be useful.

  Ethan waved a hand in front of her. “Hey there. Did you find anything in the book?”

  Uh. The book, yes. Tess tore her gaze away and cleared her throat. “You’re not the beast I’m supposed to fight.”

  “What?”

  “Gram mentions another, an enemy.”

  His shoulders stiffened.

  “Are there a lot of others like you?”

  “I don’t know. At least one. The one who changed me.”

  “What do you mean changed you?”

  Finishing his slice, Ethan wiped his fingers on a napkin and sank down next to her.

  Her hairs rose as the static she’d noticed at the club returned, his nearness charging the air.

  “About a year ago, I came out of The Pizza Bar late at night and was mugged. Or at least I thought I was.” He set the napkin on the coffee table, and his brow furrowed. “It was weird. He wore a nice suit and trench coat—not exactly dressed as a thief, but then his eyes changed to an odd green color, and he told me to come with him. Oddly enough, I did, although I didn’t know why.”

  Tess’s blood ran cold. He’d described exactly what had happened at the club. She really had been controlled by The Beast.

  Ethan flipped his hand over and stared at his palm. “He raised his hand. A tattoo of a dragon glowed on his skin. He reached out for me like he planned to touch me with it, then stopped. A strange expression came over his face—confusion, recognition. He smiled and grabbed me by the neck, shoved me against the wall.” Ethan let his arm fall to his side. “I watched his hand come closer and closer with that damned glowing dragon. He grabbed my forehead, and I was blinded by light. My head. I felt more pain than I’ve ever experienced in my life. And the heat . . . my body burned.”

  Tess held her breath. “Then what?”

  “I blacked out. A few hours later I woke up in an alley next to the restaurant with no blood and no wound. I just felt hungry, empty.” He averted his eyes. “But not for food.”

  “For what then?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. How could this be true?

  “At the time, I had no idea. I went inside the restaurant, to the bathroom, and while I was in there, The Beast . . .” Ethan inhaled a shaky breath. “There was an older guy washing his hands. He stared at me in the mirror, and his eyes glazed over.” Flexing and clenching his hands, Ethan swallowed hard. “I was in a daze. Everything looked strange, out of focus. I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was how hungry I was. I grabbed him from behind, on his neck. He screamed.” Ethan closed his eyes. “The worst part is how good it felt. While he suffered, I felt pleasure.”

  Tess read the shame on his face. Still, an icy tingle of unease prickled her skin. Morbid curiosity pushed a question from her lips. “What did it feel like?”

  His eyes bored into hers. “Intense heat all over, like flames licking my skin, my bones, but not quite hot enough to burn.”

  Trapped in his piercing gaze, Tess could barely think. “Th-That’s pleasure?”

  “Imagine sinking into a hot tub, your body immersed in water so warm it’s almost painful. It feels good, soothing, the heat melting into your muscles. Now imagine that pleasure magnified one thousand times.”

  Wow. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. “What happened to the man in the bathroom?”

  Ethan frowned, and dread snaked up her spine. “He collapsed to the floor, his head in his hands. I called an ambulance.” Disgust darkening his frown, he turned away. “I found out later he died of a brain aneurysm.”

  Dead? She shivered. “Is it possible his death was a coincidence?”

  “You forget. He hasn’t been the only one.”

  Her creeped-out sensors buzzed to life, and she rose. “Do you want any more pizza?”

  Shaking his head, he laid back and lifted an arm over his eyes.

  Tess walked to the table and began stacking dishes. When he’d first told her how much danger she was in without her aura, she hadn’t thought about death, maybe stubbing her toe, really hard. But death? She rushed to the kitchen with her load of dishes and turned on the hot water. Her hands shook. He . . . Ethan killed people. No, The Beast killed people.

  Ethan didn’t say a word. Maybe he knew she needed a moment—more than a moment.

  She scrubbed the plates and set them in a rack to dry. Wait. Ethan wasn’t a murderer. He drained aura. Nothing more. And then his victims didn’t have the positive energy needed to protect them, so they died. Crap. Same difference.

  After running out of dishes, she returned to
the table and wiped the surface with a rag. Ethan’s arm still rested over his face. How many had he killed, and when would he kill again? She didn’t want to know. Not now, not with him half laying on her couch. The man who’d vowed to “protect” her.

  With a last swipe of the rag, she finished cleaning and edged toward him. “Ethan?” she whispered.

  He didn’t move. Deep even breaths and relaxed muscles. He’d fallen asleep.

  A slip of white paper peeked out of his jacket pocket. His fortune from the cookie at lunch. She glanced at Ethan and tugged the scrap of paper free. You cannot fight your destiny.

  Rather depressing, especially if you have a beast inside of you. She returned the paper to his pocket, then grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and spread it over him. Was this man good or evil? He’d vowed to protect her, but what would happen the next time The Beast took over? Tess’s head swam. Too many questions. Too many revelations for one day. Time for bed.

  She flicked off the lights and TV before dragging herself to her bedroom. Automatically, she reached for the comfy plaid shirt she’d worn to bed for the last nine months. Matt’s shirt. She should give up the habit. It was only a shirt, right? Tess closed the door and changed. The soft cotton slid over her skin like a comforting caress. Within its warm embrace, she felt safe, as if she could close her eyes and believe nothing had changed.

  She crawled into bed, and her muscles relaxed into the mattress.

  You cannot fight your destiny. Funny, her fortune had said the same thing.

  ~ ~ ~

  The dream seemed so real. Tess watched as a steady stream of exhausted runners crossed the finish line. She scanned farther back, searching for a familiar mop of blond-brown hair. His stocky frame emerged over the final hill. Number fifty-six. “Go, Matt!” she yelled.