by King, Thayer
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Thayer King
ISBN: 978-1-77130-736-9
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to my sister Rosa who told me bedtime stories, awakening my love for a good fairy tale.
THE LAST WITCH HUNTER
Witch Hunters, 3
Thayer King
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Nikita Gray opened her door and wasn’t entirely surprised to find Ronan McKinley on her porch. The man was a freaking giant. She was below average height at 5’3,” but Ronan had her by more than a few inches. Nikita estimated him to be around 6’5.” Yet it wasn’t his height that unnerved her. She was used to her diminutive stature and had the skills to compensate for any size discrepancies if or when the time came to get physical.
No, it wasn’t the height difference that set her on edge. It was the way he watched her. His eyes tracked her every move. His gaze was hot and hungry as though he’d eat her whole and savor her like ice cream on a hot summer day if only given the opportunity.
She knew she was attractive. All the women in her family were beautiful. Even at almost ninety, her grandmother Mama Skye could have her pick of the widowers that attended her church if she were ever so inclined to marry again. It was from Mama Skye that she had inherited her large cat-shaped eyes and a full bow-shaped mouth that made a man think of sex. Her wild mane of curls gave the impression of unrestrained passion. At least, that’s what she’d been told by more than one man. Truth was, Nikita was all about restraint and logistics. Passion led to poor decision making. In her line of work, mistakes could lead to death…or worse.
Beauty aside, Ronan had no reason to devour her with his eyes each time they crossed paths. Not the way she was dressed. Nondescript and sexless described the part of her wardrobe Ronan had seen as of yet. None of her favorite fitted black sexy gear. She wore baggy faded sweat pants, large t-shirts that hung off her shoulders and didn’t touch her breasts, and sensible beat up sneakers. She’d even tamed her natural curls with a flat iron and pulled them into an uninspired ponytail.
Currently, she wore a white tank top with no bra and gray cotton shorts. Her hair was in a fat braid over her shoulder. Ronan’s lips kicked up in a smile as he took in her figure. His blue-green gaze lingered on her bosom long enough for her nipples to perk up at the unwanted attention. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow. That was another thing. Something about him made her think of sex, of hot nights with his big hands holding her ass while she rode him like a pony. “Mr. McKinley,” she said stiffly.
“Ronan,” he corrected. He towered over her, his dark red hair backlit by the morning sun. His broad chest was covered in a forest green and black plaid shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves up so that his muscular forearms were on display. “Mrs. Williams asked me to inspect her kitchen floor. She wants an estimate to put down a new one.”
She noticed the tool box in his hand but didn’t budge. His story was highly suspect. Why would Mrs. Williams give him a reason to come into her home? They had been playing this game of cat and mouse for a week. He’d come over to welcome her to the neighborhood on her first day and offered to help her with her bags. She’d had only a couple of suitcases and a few boxes. She’d declined. The second day he’d brought her cupcakes as a welcome gift. She’d explained she was only housesitting while Mrs. Williams was away but had accepted one of the sweets and then sent him away. Not that she’d eaten it. It remained untouched on a shelf in the fridge. The next day he’d offered to help her bring in her groceries. She’d thanked him but informed him that she had it well in hand. With each of her refusals, he’d smile and shrug it off. And then try again. He was tenacious. She’d give him that.
This was his best attempt at an invite yet. The linoleum in the kitchen was worn and beginning to peel. “I think you should wait until Mrs. Williams returns. She may have changed her mind.”
“I’m between jobs right now. I don’t know how long it will be before I get the chance to come by again.”
“Really? You seem to manage to drop by for one reason or another every day.”
His smile widened, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam as they swept her figure. “I’m being neighborly. I know you don’t know the neighborhood. I wouldn’t want a friend of Mrs. Williams to feel unwelcome.”
She barely managed to contain a snort. Mrs. Williams considered him a nuisance. “Be that as it may, I’d rather you wait to give the estimate.”
He ran his hand over the lower half of his face, the hair there creating a rasping noise as his thick fingers passed over it. The shadowy growth of his beard was a lighter shade than the hair on his head. He had the darkest red hair of anyone she’d ever seen. His skin was a rich tan color proving that not all red heads burned in the sun. “It may be some time before I can schedule another appointment for Mrs. Williams.”
Nikita shrugged. “Guess she’ll have to call another carpenter.”
“There aren’t a lot of us around these parts, Nikita.”
She stiffened. She should have never given him her name. Hearing it roll off his tongue with that deep voice of his affected her more than she’d like. “Then she’ll be calling you.” She moved to close the door.
His big hand halted the progress of the swinging wood. “Just a sec. There was a second reason I came over. I wanted to ask you to dinner.”
This was new. It was unorthodox perhaps but given his fascination with her, this might be her best chance. She usually liked to study subjects of an investigation without their notice. But she’d never fly under Ronan’s radar. Since the first day she’d moved in, he’d been watching her with interest. It was making this assignment next to impossible.
“That sounds like fun. When should I be ready?”
He blinked, thick strawberry blonde lashes covering his beautiful marine irises for several seconds. “Uh, tomorrow night at seven sound good?”
She smiled. “Sounds perfect. See you then.” She closed the door in his stunned face.
***
What had just happened? Ronan scratched his chin and made his way down the porch of Mrs. Williams’s big old southern house. He glanced back over his shoulder as he crossed to his own yard. Lace curtains covered the windows. If Nikita was watching him, he couldn’t tell.
He was surprised that she’d agreed to his dinner invite. She had spurned every overture of friendship that he’d extended. He mulled over her acceptance but could read no ulterior motives in her words.
He dropped his tool box by the door. Mrs. Williams had asked him to look at her floor a year ago but he’d been too busy to do it. He probably never would have recalled her request if he hadn’t been so desperate to spend time with her house sitter.
The moment he’d caught sight of Nikita’s beautiful face, he’d been captivated. He’d seen what he thought was a teenager lugging heavy luggage from the trunk of a car and he’d naturally gone over to help. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman after all. The second she had glared up at him with those sexy eyes, he’d recognized his m
istake. Her butterscotch skin had been covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She’d pressed her full lips together in irritation but not before he’d developed a fantasy of them forming an “O” as he buried himself inside her tight little pussy. His cock had thickened alarmingly, threatening to burst out of his jeans.
She wasn’t the sort that usually attracted him. His type had always been tall leggy types. He was a big guy. It just made sense for him to go for tall women. Nikita was so small and delicate he knew he’d have to be careful when he made love to her. Her clothing had hidden her curves well. Today was the first glimpse he’d had of her killer figure. She was deceptively shapely. The tank top she wore had molded itself to her firm pear shaped breasts that were unfettered by a bra. He’d wanted to drop to his knees and suckle her. Her shirt would have grown wet from his mouth, making her dark chocolate nipples visible. Her waist was tiny but her hips were well rounded. She hadn’t turned around so he didn’t know how cushy her behind was. But that was fine. He could make due with her hips if he had to. He would grip on to them as he pulled her down onto his cock until he’d embedded every inch.
Ronan groaned at the imagery and pressed a hand to his aching erection. Needing to redirect his thoughts, he turned on his television to the morning news before moving into the kitchen. He’d skipped breakfast in hopes that Nikita would offer to share hers. He made bacon, eggs, toast and coffee. Settling down to eat, he could hear the newscasters discussing a missing person in the area. He put down his coffee cup to go and stand in front of the television, a seventy-two inch flat screened beauty that he’d fallen in love with on sight. Gray’s Landing, a small town in northeastern North Carolina, rarely made the news, even the local news. It was a town of only three thousand citizens. They didn’t even have a McDonald’s in the city limits. Ronan didn’t recognize the missing woman, a New Yorker in the area to visit family. Local police were already searching the Roanoke River. Ronan shook his head. That was a bad sign.
He returned to his breakfast. When he finished, he put his dishes in the dishwasher. He went into his double garage. His Ford F-250 was covered on one side. The other side was lined with shelves holding his tools. He’d been working on making a rocking chair for his Uncle Hugh for a couple of months. It was a surprise for his birthday. Ronan ran his hand over the wood. It was simple but sturdy. Hugh would love it.
***
Nikita rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache building. Dr. Scott was right. She needed a vacation. Damn it, she missed coffee. For a moment, she debated having a small cup. It was past noon. Giving it up hadn’t helped. She still wasn’t sleeping.
She jumped as Mrs. Williams’s cat, a fluffy tabby named Minx, rubbed against her leg. Nikita swore. She hated this. Bending, she ran a trembling hand over Minx’s soft head. The cat didn’t like to travel so she had promised Mrs. Williams that she would take care of her. Minx’s bowl was empty again. She filled it with cat food, hoping she wasn’t over feeding the feline.
She turned on the television. This was beginning to feel like a waste of time. She’d observed nothing unusual about Ronan McKinley. Well, aside from being the sexiest redhead she’d ever seen. Mrs. Williams had claimed that he was a nuisance. Nikita would give her that but she doubted that he was bedeviling Mrs. Williams the way he was her. She’d observed him working in his yard, clipping hedges and mowing the lawn. He’d even mowed Mrs. Williams’s lawn. She can’t imagine why the elderly woman suspected he was an evil witch.
Nikita flipped from the news. It was too depressing. She stopped at a game show but had to turn. Too damn much joy. She wandered over to the window and peered out onto the quiet street. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was some sort of set up. Mama Skye had been urging her to give up the business of late. Nikita knew her grandmother was concerned for her but this was the only job she knew how to do. And she was the only one left in the family to do it.
Sure, she was barely sleeping at night. And, yes, she was…anxious, tensing at shadows and even the odd movement in her peripheral vision.
But there were benefits to her insomnia. It extended her work hours.
And the jitters made sure that her reflexes were sharp.
A vacation was all she needed. She’d take one as soon as this case was over. She turned her gaze to the two story brick home next door. This would be much easier if she were a witch like her cousin. Mystique could spot a fellow witch simply by the look of their eyes. But for Nikita, it required surveillance. If Ronan was a witch, he was careful about displaying any extraordinary talents.
Nikita rotated her shoulders and massaged her aching neck. Whether he was a witch or not didn’t mean that her services were required here. She would then have to determine whether he was good or evil. If he was good, then she did nothing. If he were evil…well, that’s when the situation got tricky.
She was almost ready to pack up and go back to Asheville. Ronan didn’t impress her as wicked. The man’s only interest for days had been attempting to finagle an invite into this house. With her. Yet he’d made no efforts to bewitch her or coerce her into doing his bidding.
Their date tomorrow night would shed some light on the situation.
After a simple dinner of soup and a salad, she tried television again but found herself too antsy to sit still for it. She stretched and did a quick workout before deciding to turn in for the night.
She brushed her teeth and studied her face in the mirror. Her cinnamon skin was makeup free. Large dark eyes tilted up at the corners and gave her an exotic flair. Her long black hair was braided and resting on her shoulders. “Not bad,” she murmured to herself, but it didn’t explain why Ronan was sniffing around her skirts. Even to her own biased view, she looked tired and rung out. Without concealer to hide the shadows beneath her eyes she felt she appeared ten years older than her actual age of twenty-eight.
With a disgusted grunt, she washed her face and exited the bathroom. The guest room at Mrs. Williams’s house hadn’t seen a remodel since she purchased the house. Original wood floors creaked a little as she made her way to the large four-poster bed. The bedclothes were worn and faded. But they were clean and she could not complain. She’d stayed in much worse in the course of this job.
She removed her clothes and dropped them in the rocking chair next to the bed. Nude but for panties, she slipped in between the cool sheets.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Minutes later she found her eyes were wide open again and her mind was filled with memories of past missions. The last witch she had investigated had been a nasty one. He’d liked to steal the youth of children to keep himself young. Capturing him had not been easy and it had not come without risk to her life. In the end, there was no choice but to end him. There was no evidence, no proof to give to police to arrest him for the missing children. There was only the justice to be found at the end of her blade.
Nikita purposely blocked the memories of the blood.
The room was dark except for the moonlight which filtered through the blinds at the windows. It was enough to create malevolent, elongated shadows that crept across the ceiling and floor.
Exhaling, she closed her eyes to ignore the vision.
The creaking of the door was the only warning she received before the impact hit the bed. She sprang up, the dagger hidden beneath her pillow in her hand in one fluid movement. Cool metal warmed in her hand as she stared into the luminescent eyes of Minx. The cat blinked and then settled against her thigh as it had done every night since she’d come to stay. Nikita glared at the cat before settling down. She returned the dagger to its position. Weren’t cats supposed to be aloof? This one wasn’t. It was downright affectionate.
She was tired but sleep remained elusive. The witch had been known as Charles Hayes. He was seventy, but appeared only thirty due to this witchcraft. His hair had been gold and his eyes were blue. He had been boyishly handsome. His outward angelic appearance had hidden a dark and evil soul.
Getting cl
ose to Charles had been easy. He’d found her attractive and flirted with her thus allowing her to observe him. It hadn’t taken long to discover his nefarious deeds. Charles was cocky and not particularly good at hiding his tracks.
Nikita had caught him in the act and had rescued a small boy from Charles’s insatiable need for youth. When she’d confronted him, he hadn’t been concerned, bragging that no one would ever believe her. Of that, she was certain. But she’d never planned to reveal his existence.
He’d captured her and tied her to a post in the basement of the house he rented. She had appealed to his vanity and pretended that before she went she wanted to know what it was like to be loved by a witch. She endured his kisses and fumbling caresses. She was often underestimated because of her size. So when she’d suggested he release her so she could use her hands, he hadn’t even hesitated before cutting the rope that bound her.
And she hadn’t hesitated in removing the blade she kept sheathed in her boot.
She was jarred awake, the memory of Charles’s bright blue eyes widening in realization at the forefront of her mind.
A glance at the clock revealed that she had slept three hours. Minx stood and stretched. Great, Nikita thought, she was keeping the same hours as the cat.
Minx bounded off the bed and out of the room.
Nikita lay still. Twenty minutes passed and she felt no closer to sleeping. She got out of bed and crossed to the windows. She lifted one of the blind slats to peer out. The house next door was dark signifying that Ronan had no difficulty sleeping. A gentle breeze made the limbs of the trees sway. Streetlights lit the sidewalks. She saw a cat that resembled a fluffier version of Minx dart through the circle of light and cross the street.
