Her fingers went to stroke herself, the urge to come intensifying with each move of his cock inside her. She could feel it building, her body quivering, straining towards fulfillment.
“Come.” He nuzzled against the back of her neck, the scrape of his teeth turning into the burn of a bite. She shrieked, coming around him in the most colossal orgasm she’d ever experienced in her life. It shot through her, robbing her of breath, of thought, more brutally satisfying than anything she’d experienced in her entire fucking life.
His own roar of completion was partially muffled against her neck, his arms clenched around her waist to hold her in place while he emptied himself inside her.
She collapsed onto the bed, completely rung out. He flopped down beside her, both of them covered in sweat.
“So who won?”
He laughed silently, rolling her over until her body was cradled against him. She drifted off to sleep before hearing his answer.
* * *
The first thing he noticed was the ringing of the phone. The second was the warm, damp female body spooned in his arms. He smiled sleepily, wondering when they’d rearranged themselves. He kind of liked the new position, the feel of her delectable ass snuggled up against his growing erection.
“You gonna answer that?”
He pulled her closer to him and mumbled into her hair, “No.” He licked his mark, delighted when she shivered. “M’busy.”
Someone pounded on his bedroom door. “Christopher! Answer the God damn phone!”
Christopher groaned. “Go the fuck away!”
“Just check the caller ID!”
Christopher rolled over and took a look at the phone. The number had him sitting up, his hard-on deflating. He picked up the phone. “Cole.”
“Christopher.”
That hated voice rolled over him. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his wolf’s instinctual desire to growl at the man who had not only threatened his mate but his pack.
“What do you want?”
“I understand your brother had an accident. Pity about that, but the Neanderthal doesn’t really need his head, does he?”
“He’s fine, actually. Thank you for calling.” Christopher waved Lana away but she didn’t take the hint, curling up against him and trying to hear Cole’s end of the conversation.
“Really? How marvelous. Congratulations on your mating, by the way.”
He growled, his wolf dangerously close to the surface. “You leave my woman out of this.”
Cole chuckled. “A witch, Christopher? Truly? How … droll.”
Lana’s hands wrapped around his neck, her ear pressing against the receiver in an attempt to hear the conversation. “My little witch took care of your storm, didn’t she?”
She kissed the side of his neck and pressed her ear back to the receiver.
“Alannah took out the storm?” Cole’s laugh was strained, a sound filled with absolutely no humor. “Well, it seems she has some power. Perhaps I should challenge her, see what she’s made of, especially since she assaulted me first.”
“What?” Christopher felt his wolf trying to slip its leash, eager to protect their mate from Cole’s threat.
“You heard me. She assaulted me first. That branch? The one that knocked me out? I know that was her, not you. That grants me the right to challenge.”
Christopher snarled. “You stay away from her or I will rip your prick off and shove it up your ass.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I think you secretly like having things shoved up your ass. I’m just being neighborly.”
Lana buried her face in his shoulder, stifling a giggle.
“I know she’s there, Christopher. Put her on the phone so I can formally challenge her.”
Christopher saw red. “I will kill you first.”
“Ah, a definite threat.” Christopher could practically hear the smile in Cole’s voice, but couldn’t bring himself to care. “I challenge you to a duel, Christopher Beckett.”
“Accepted.” He ignored the tightening of Lana’s arms, concentrating solely on Cole.
“And when your corpse lies on the field, I’ll take your woman and fuck her until she bleeds.”
The phone shattered in Christopher’s hands.
“Whoa.” Lana stared at the wreck of the phone. “What did he say to piss you off?”
He turned to face her, the red haze of anger still coating everything. “I have a duel to prepare for.”
“What?”
He climbed out of bed, pulling her along behind him. “We need a shower, then we need to go consult with my brothers.” There was no way in hell he was leaving her alone, either here at the house or at the duel. His brothers would have to guard her while he fought. She followed him docilely into the bathroom. He wished he could enjoy the view, but damn it if that phone call hadn’t killed his libido.
“What the fuck is that?”
He turned to find her staring in the mirror, her eyes tracing the black wolf on the back of her shoulder. “My mark.”
She glared at him in the mirror. “Your mark.”
He smiled smugly. “You are my mate. All of the Beckett mates wear that mark.”
“I never agreed to be your mate!”
He was stunned. Hurt. “Yes you did.”
“When?” Her hands went on her hips, her foot tapping.
“‘Knot of eight protect my mate.’”
The foot stopped. Her mouth fell open. Her hands fell to her sides. A blush crept up her chest to her face. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh. I think after that it’s safe to say I assumed I had your consent.” She couldn’t reject him now. Could she?
“It would have been nice to be asked,” she muttered.
He sniffed, ignoring her. He tested the temperature of the water with his wrist, wanting the water just right. He wasn’t done being pissed yet, but he wanted to relax with his mate before he damn well exploded from stress.
“I didn’t realize.”
“Realize what?”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “When I did that spell I did it on the fly.”
His hands stalled. He felt dizzy. He could not have just heard what he’d heard.
“What?”
“I mean, I knew what I needed, I just didn’t know the words, you know? Not the exact ones, anyway.”
Her hands were stroking his chest, but he didn’t feel it. All he could feel was the new gray hair sprouting on his head. His heart pounded in fear. His little witch had stopped Cole with a made up spell? Did she have any idea what could have happened to her? He stood to his full height, turning to face her. She flinched, and he knew his wolf was closer to the surface than he’d thought.
“What? It worked, didn’t it?”
No fear. Not one single ounce of fear in her. Defiance, a hint of remorse, but that was it.
Chris growled, and it wasn’t human. His wolf had taken over, and it was pissed.
Lana gasped, backing away from him, from his anger. He shifted, needing to run, needing to get away before he said something or did something he’d regret. He went to the window, pressing a specially made latch with his paw. The window swung open and he leapt out into the mid-afternoon sun.
“Chris, wait! Please!”
He ignored her, running into the forest, intent on taking out his rage on some poor, defenseless rabbits rather than her soft, sweet skin.
Chapter Eleven
“You did what? ” Daniel, obviously astonished, ran his fingers through his hair.
“Damn, no wonder he’s pissed.” Gareth shook his head at her, his expression somewhere between reluctant admiration and anger. He looked the worse for wear, his arm in a sling to protect his collar bone, the stitches near the knife wound black against his golden skin. He lounged on the sofa, his feet up, looking pale and pissed.
“Pass the peanuts, dickhead. Stop hogging them.” Zachary pulled the bowl towards him, smiling happily.
> “She could have been killed, idiot.” Daniel snatched the bowl back, ignoring his brother’s whine. “She’s lucky Christopher didn’t spank her ass and tie her to the bed.”
“Or worse.” Gareth looked at his brothers. “Mom.”
They shuddered.
Lana slouched deeper into the chair. Two of the brothers definitely were taking Christopher’s side, and she just couldn’t understand why. “What did I do that was so bad, anyway?”
They looked at her with blank astonishment. Gareth broke the silence. “You never, ever use an untested spell! It’s the first thing that’s drummed into our heads when we’re still in diapers!”
“You had no idea what components he’d used to cast the original spell, so your counter-spell could have interacted poorly and blown up in your face, or worse, made his spell stronger.” Daniel began pacing, ticking points off on his fingers. “You didn’t scry to see what protections he’d put up. Again, this could have lead to your spell blowing up in your face. Placement of the counter-spell needs to be laid out precisely.” Daniel threw his hands up in the air. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“I’m not.” Zach handed her a peanut.
Lana took it. “Thank you.”
Daniel snorted. “Of course you aren’t. You’d have done the same harebrained thing, and we’d be explaining to Mom how you wound up smeared all over Christopher’s back yard. Even then I’m not sure you can pull it off. Sorry, but of the four of us you’re the weakest, bro.”
Zachary looked ticked for a moment before picking up the peanut bowl, his usual sunny smile back in place. “You’re just mad because a girl kicked Cole’s ass.”
Lana watched them arguing, but her attention remained on Zachary. Something about the youngest Beckett had her instincts hopping to attention. That strange cross-reference in The Registry popped back into her mind.
When the other brothers weren’t looking, Zach flicked his finger. A peanut, physically untouched, went flying out of the bowl and struck Daniel in the back of the head.
Daniel turned and glared at his brother. “Did you just throw a peanut at me, you juvenile twat?”
Gareth sighed. “Like calling him a twat is more adult?”
“I’m not the one starting a food fight!” And they were off again, squabbling like …
well, family.
With a soft smile Lana pointed her finger at the peanut bowl. Three peanuts jumped into the air and pelted the brothers. When they turned back to her, she smiled. “Shut the fuck up.” She stood. “We have more important things to worry about, like how Christopher is going to beat Cole.” And how to break it to Zach that he’s a witch, not a wizard. She would double-check in The Registry, but her instincts were usually dead on.
If Zach was a wizard, she’d eat her favorite pair of lace panties.
“I think you should stay out of it. You’ve done enough.” Daniel’s voice was cold.
“Leave her alone.” Zach, bless his heart, got in between his brothers and her. “She did something none of the rest of us could do. She broke Cole’s spell before someone got hurt. She’s also Christopher’s mate, and that makes her a Beckett, whether your dumb ass likes it or not.”
She tapped Zach on the shoulder. “Actually, I think you would have been just fine.”
She hitched a thumb at Gareth and Daniel. “They, on the other hand, would have been paste.”
Daniel made a rude noise. “Sorry, but Zach is barely strong enough to qualify as a wizard.”
“Prick!” Zach started to lunge, but Lana’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Which just means that Zach is one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever met.”
The brothers, shocked, froze.
“Excuse me?” Zach turned to face her . “Witch?”
She nodded, seeing the longing, the need, inside him. She bet he’d found trying to be a wizard more than a little frustrating. The fact that he’d accomplished anything at all told her just how powerful he must be, but she didn’t want him to know too much too soon.
Not until Grammy had a look at him. “You’ll need to be assessed, but I’m betting you’ll grade fairly high on the scale.” Actually, you might break the scale.
Zach gulped, his eyes wide.
Daniel laughed.
She wanted to smack Daniel when Zach’s eyes filled with hurt.
But when they filled with anger … when he turned to his brother…
She stepped between Daniel and Zach and placed her hand on Zach’s chest. “No!”
She pulled his face down to hers. “Anger is what cursed the Becketts. Never cast in anger.” She waited until she saw he’d acknowledged that, breathing deep, reigning in the rage.
“I wouldn’t have.”
She might have believed him if he hadn’t been talking through clenched teeth. “Take that anger. Dilute it. Channel it. Allow it to fuel you, but never allow it to use you.” She huffed. “A witch gets a stronger boost the more they feel. Love, anger, hate, determination, all of it fuels your gift, but if you allow it to rule your gift, you will find yourself on the wrong end of the karma stick. Got it?”
That got through. “Karma stick?” Zach’s lips twitched, the tension in his shoulders easing.
“The witch who cursed you? She’s a giant bunny.”
Zach blinked, swallowing hard. “Bunny?”
“Her great great great blah blah grandchildren are serious vegetarians.”
Zach collapsed into a chair, laughing his ass off.
“You really think he’s a witch?” Gareth was frowning at them, but he looked intrigued.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“How do you know?” Daniel still sounded hostile, but some of the wind had gone out of his sails.
She grinned slowly. “Let’s just say it takes one to know one.” She flicked her finger, and every peanut in the bowl landed on Daniel.
She slid her arm through Zach’s and hauled him to his feet, ignoring both Daniel’s sputtering and Gareth’s laughter. “Come along, Zach. You and I have someone to talk to.” She led the still chuckling Zach out of the room and went looking for Annabelle.
Grammy was going to love this. A Beckett witch?
Zach’s parents were going to shit a cow.
* * *
Christopher returned from his run to find Gareth and Daniel sitting quietly in his office, waiting for him. The Registry lay open between them, the picture of Zach smiling up at them. “What’s wrong?”
Daniel glared at him. “When were you going to tell us Zach is a witch?”
Christopher sighed. He so did not need this shit right now. “I’m not sure. Did you read the entry?”
Gareth looked like he’d bitten a lime and wasn’t sure if he liked the taste or not. “It doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but yeah, we read it.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” The entry on Zach was unlike any other he’d ever seen. It still confused the hell out of him, and until he could do a bit more research he wasn’t going to call his brother a witch. “Why aren’t you two in the great room?”
They shivered.
“Mom’s here?” Christopher raced from the room, ignoring the shouts of his brothers.
He slid to a stop in the great room and found Zachary, hands holding what looked like a purple rose, standing over his end table and staring intently at the vase of flowers sitting there. Staring up at him was a tiny little old woman intoning, “You’ve got it. Now, cast.”
Zachary’s hand flew out. The rose touched the vase.
“At my touch this color you’ll see.
As I will so mote it be.”
Christopher grinned. The flowers were turning a rich, deep purple. Not his favorite color, but if Grammy could help Zachary with his magic, he could live with the illusion of purple flowers for a bit.
Zachary whooped. “Yes!”
Christopher’s grin slowly faded. The vase was turning purple. Then the end table.
The walls.
“Zachary. Take the illusion off.” Purple bled across his hardwood floors. He stepped back, worried about what would happen if that leading edge touched him.
“Oops.” Zachary turned to the elderly woman who stood there, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I told you not to get overly excited.” She sighed and waved her arm. Then she frowned. “Zachary.”
“I’m trying!” Zachary leaned down and peered at the purple flowers. “Well. Crap.”
“What?” Christopher was glad the purple stopped on the edge of the kitchen.
Zachary straightened up, his face filled with wonder. “It’s not an illusion.” He turned to Christopher, a huge grin slowly taking over his face. “It’s not an illusion, Chris.”
The wondrous happiness on Zach’s face was something he hadn’t seen since they were children. It made him sad to realize how much Zach’s apparent lack of ability had dragged his happy-go-lucky brother down.
Chris blinked as his brother’s words sank in. He got down on the ground and touched the floor, using all of his senses, magical and wolf, to detect the spell.
There was no spell. The lingering traces sifted over his senses, the faint hint of rose and lavender, but the spell was no longer active. “My great room is purple.”
“Sorry.” Zachary didn’t sound very sorry. He sounded ecstatic. “I’ll try and put it back.”
“No!” Two strong voices rang out, one male, one female.
Christopher and Grammy looked at each other. The old woman laughed. “Zachary, you are to touch nothing until I’ve got you properly trained. Preferably under shields.
And wards. Maybe even underground.”
“I’m that bad?” Zachary tossed the rose onto the couch. “What am I saying? Of course I’m that bad.” He started for the kitchen, his expression the same old devil-may-care Zachary Christopher was so used to seeing and was finally beginning to understand was a mask. “We need to make lunch. I’m starved.”
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