by Unknown
“Sarah. Share with Zachary.”
The little girl glared at him and turned the book toward him. Cover side out.
“Let’s begin.”
Zach sat back and prepared for what he was sure would be the most miserable night of his existence.
Jo waved her hand in front of her face and dove frantically for the windows. “Everyone stay calm!” She struggled with opening the old windows. Something was jamming them closed. She coughed, desperate to get the stench and smoke out of her classroom.
What in all the hells had she ever done to deserve this? How Zach wound up in the same class with children she’d never understand, but the Princess had strong-armed her into taking on the younger man and Jo had reluctantly agreed.
The entire week had been one disaster after another.
“Sorry, sorry. Let me help you with that.”
Two strong arms reached around her and began tugging the window open. She heard a deep grunt, felt the pull of that powerful body, and the window screeched open underneath her fingers.
Jo took a deep breath of fresh city air. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
That deep rumbling voice was going to be the death of her. Maybe if she’d been paying attention to what Zach had been putting in his cauldron instead of his strong hands, one bound in a leather glove, one not, she might have stopped him from whatever the hell he’d done. It stinks like a half-cooked skunk in here. “Get the other windows, Zachary.”
She felt more than heard his sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
She risked a quick peek at his strong shoulders outlined in a white button-down shirt, dark jeans hugging an incredibly firm ass. That mop of dark curls begged for her fingers. He reached over and pulled on the window, opening it with another deep grunt that sent flutters through her stomach.
She had to get this unholy lust under control before it did her in. Zachary Beckett was her student, damn it. She had to teach him how to control and hone his powers. If Ro caught her drooling over the man she just knew Zach would be sent away. He was at the end of his patience with Zachary Beckett. The complaints against him were piling up as he screwed up one spell after another in spectacular fashion.
But if he were sent away he’d never get what he so desperately needed.
So she growled and she grumbled and she kept him at arm’s length. She prayed he never saw the way she looked for his bright smile, or the way she watched him those rare times when he threw his head back and laughed. She never let him closer than she had to. She was terrified he’d sense her attraction.
Still, if it wasn’t for his perpetual screw-ups, she wasn’t certain she would have been able to stand by her decision. There was no way the man could leave court without serious tutoring in the arcane arts. If he did, someone, somewhere, was going to kill his ass just for the strange stuff he tended to do without even thinking about it.
“All the windows are open, Miss Yashodhar.”
She watched him shake out the fingers of his gloved hand and wondered at it. He never took it off, never allowed anyone to touch it. He held out his left hand to anyone who wanted to shake, and she knew, knew it wasn’t his primary hand. The awkward way he tried to do things with his left one let her know the injury to his right was fairly recent too. The fact that he was in her class at all made her think it was perhaps less than a year old but more than six months. He’d been in court now for five weeks, and she’d never seen his ungloved hand.
What had he done to fuck his hand up? It had to be pretty bad if the healers around here hadn’t fixed it yet. Maybe it wasn’t even human anymore? She snorted. She wouldn’t put anything past him.
The smoke was clearing, but the rotten skunk smell was lingering like a bad headache, throbbing behind her sinuses. “Everyone, class dismissed for the evening. Call your parents.”
“Way to go, Zachary.”
She hid her wince as best she could, but she knew everyone had heard a child mock the very adult Zach. “Everyone, out. Now!” She sighed. “Zachary, hold back for a moment.”
She watched the children gather their things and head for the door. More than one glared or shook their heads at Zach, blaming him for the catastrophe her lesson had become. She found herself shaking her head at him too.
Someone needed to take this man-boy in hand before he killed himself.
“What exactly did you put in that spell?” It was supposed to be relatively simple, a brew to relax and open up the third eye, allowing the magical senses to be brought to the fore. Instead it wound up closing off the sinuses. “Well?”
He shrugged. “It should have worked.”
“Tell me the ingredients you used.”
He began chanting them, his voice almost sing-song. Her horror grew as he listed out the herbs he’d placed in his cauldron. “Lord and Lady, Beckett! Half those herbs are poisonous!” And how the fuck had poisonous herbs wound up in a novice classroom?
He shrugged. “They were what I needed.”
“What you needed.”
He nodded, giving her what she’d come to term his Bambi eyes. “Uh-huh.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried desperately to remind herself why she hadn’t killed him yet. “Beckett, you can’t have those in here with ten-year-olds.”
“I was careful.”
She pointed toward the desks. “Those children are under my care, Zachary!” She shook her head, furious with both him and herself. She should have noticed what he was doing, stopped it before it got to this point. This was more her fault than his. She sat behind her desk, hoping it gave her more of an authoritative air despite the eau de funk clinging to her. “From now on, you use the herbs I tell you to use, understand?” He opened his mouth to object, but she stopped him with an upraised hand. “Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hated when he got that hurt tone, but what could she do? There was no way he was qualified to work with those herbs. How were they supposed to open his inner eye? Through death? “Go home, Zachary. Try not to blow anything up on the way.”
She watched him walk out, leaving his jacket behind. Once she was certain he wasn’t coming back for it she started slowly and methodically banging her head on her desk.
What was she going to do with him?
Darkness would be a blessing. Too bad they’d chosen to light a fire.
Zach could barely see. His eyes were swollen shut. He’d howl, except he was muzzled. His paws were bloody from trying to scrabble free of the cage the men had put him in. A chain had been locked around his neck with a silver collar, enchanted to be unbreakable even by magic, hobbling him in place. He’d tried to turn back into his human form, but the silver collar was magically sealed to keep him in his wolf form until they were ready for him.
He was helpless to save her.
A dark altar had been placed right where Zach could watch the horror unfold. A hooded man stood over a naked woman, bound to the altar with silver, enchanted chains. Blood stained that silver, a mark of the sacrifices that had gone before. He could see the woman straining at her bonds, her wrists chafed raw from the cuffs.
A knife flashed into the air. The chanting increased in intensity. The foul language seared his ears. Below the girl, the runes on the altar glowed a vicious green. They were going to sacrifice her to the dark powers, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The girl turned her head and pleaded with her eyes for Zach to save her. Zach increased his struggles against his bonds as he realized just who was strapped down on the altar. He renewed his struggle to get free of his bonds, ignoring the blood that littered the grass beneath his feet.
He couldn’t let those bastards kill her!
When the girl’s head turned and he saw her horrified face, Zach almost died himself.
Zach started awake as the knife flashed down, the echo of Jo’s gurgling scream still echoing in his ears.
He tossed the sweat-soaked sheet off his body and stared up a
t the darkened ceiling. He clenched his teeth together, fighting off the phantom pain that racked his whole body. His hand throbbed, an agony that never quite went away, a reminder of everything he’d done to save his brother’s life.
Annabelle had been wrong. The dreams weren’t getting better. They were getting worse.
He lifted his hands to his face, wincing at the feel of the damaged one. The skin was still red and swollen, the brand in the center still raw despite the passage of time. His good palm rasped against his whiskers, the sound dry and loud in the quiet night.
“Fuck a duck.” Zach sat up and glared at the clock. Three a.m. Time for all little Becketts to go for a fucking run. He stepped naked into the living room of his rented townhome, through to the kitchen, and opened the back door. Just hope no one decides to take it as an invitation to come on in and rob me blind.
Then again, I’m in the mood to bite someone, so why not? He called to his wolf, grateful when the great black beast answered the call. He merged his soul with his wolf’s and limped out the back door, his twisted paw slowing him down. He felt embraced by his wolf’s love, the knowledge that here, at least, was someone who accepted him unconditionally, loved him without limits.
He scented the night air. Exhaust fumes nearly choked him, even here on the edge of the city. He’d have to find a place further out or finish his training in record time and return home. He hated the stench of this place, the constant noise and confusion. Most of all he missed his family. Even asshole Daniel, who’d hugged him just outside the airport terminal before turning him around and kicking his ass toward security and a life no Beckett had ever lived before.
I’m just a plethora of firsts. Zach rolled his eyes and trotted off into the woods behind his townhome. He prayed none of the neighbors saw him or, if they did, thought he was just a really big dog.
Someday he’d return home, a fully trained witch, and kick Daniel’s ass. In the meantime, he could only hope and pray that his other brothers eventually forgave him for what he’d done.
Someday he might even tell them the price he continually paid for Christopher’s life.
God, he missed them. It hurt, knowing they didn’t want him around. That he’d fucked up, again. And if they knew how much trouble he was having here they’d either laugh their asses off or tell him how they’d told him so. This was his last chance to prove that he was truly worth something.
He was so damn tired of being a fuck-up.
Chapter Two
“Mr. Beckett.”
Zach winced and kept his eyes on the Prince. The man looked vaguely curious as he stared at the great wooden chair where he normally held court. The rich scent of chocolate filled the air, drowning out the sandalwood incense the Princess had been burning. The Prince stood across from his throne, arms crossed over his chest, his expression calm.
Zach was feeling anything but.
“Can you explain that to me, please?”
Zach blew out his breath and prayed he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. He’d seriously screwed the pooch and he knew it. “I was hungry?”
Prince Roland Malinborn, ruler of the Court of Witches and the most powerful magic men in the world, turned to him. “So you turned the carved white oak on the back of my throne, the ancient symbol of the Witch Prince, into a green M&M?”
He resisted the urge to cover his eyes. He was pretty sure his cheeks were bright red. “The lesson was to focus on what you wanted right at that moment and bring it into being.” And hadn’t it been humiliating to fuck that spell up in front of ten-year-olds?
“That’s just wrong, Zach.” The Witch Prince shook his head. “It has a face.”
“The strappy heels are kind of cute.” Princess Arianna Malinborn tilted her head, the grin Zach knew she’d been fighting finally making an appearance.
“Not. Helping, sweetheart.” Prince Roland sighed. “Fix it, Mr. Beckett.”
He stared, horrified, at the Prince. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”
The Prince stared back. “Good point.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Send Jo up, please.”
Aw crap. Jo was going to give him hell. And from the look on Prince Roland’s face he was going to have Zach’s ass stilled, his magic silenced forever.
Just like at home, he seemed to screw up every spell he tried. But instead of fizzling and dying out with a whimper, here his spells tended to blow up in his face.
The local “Elk Lodge” served the witches well, giving the Prince a centralized court without building an obvious palace. It was also a source of occasional revenue. Actual magic performed during a wedding ceremony would more than likely freak any normal wedding hall proprietor the hell out. So the rulers of the Witch Court allowed magic families to rent certain rooms for functions and used the space themselves for their own holiday balls and special court functions.
Zach kind of liked the place, even if the location sucked ass. He missed being out in the open air. Maybe he could come and visit occasionally, like once every ten years or so? Prince Roland might even begin to forget he existed.
“Sire!”
The Prince’s right-hand man came running into the hall and stopped, panting, in front of the Prince. “Yes, Tennison?”
Tennison bowed. “The mosaic, sire, in the hallway out front! It’s—”
“M&M’s?” The Prince was going to grind his teeth to dust if he kept that up.
The Prince’s face was cherry red. He was going to have an aneurysm if Zach didn’t fix this. “Sorry?”
It didn’t help his case when Princess Arianna broke out in giggles.
“Dear Goddess, Zachary. What have you done now?”
It wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair. There was no way Fate would be so cruel to him, but there it was. He was in more trouble than he ever remembered being. The Prince looked ready to have him stripped of his powers. The Princess looked ready to adopt him, which would only serve to piss off the Prince and Zach’s mother, a situation he strove to avoid at all costs.
He was about to topple over from sheer unrequited lust.
He turned to look at the object of his obsession. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders. Jo’s deep brown eyes seemed to bore right to the core of him. Full lips curled in a half-smile, the disdain he knew, knew she felt for him hidden for the benefit of the Prince and Princess. Johra Yashodhar had faced better men than him and left them weeping and broken in her high-heeled dust. She was an exotic orchid to his mangy wolf.
God, he wanted her. How could he not?
But she used the fact that she was two years older than him as a barrier to any intimacy, even friendship. She claimed him as her student and treated him like one of the kids. He’d been watching her the entire time he’d been at court, lusted after her more and more since she started teaching him.
She viewed him as an issue that needed to be dealt with.
Zach was about to lose his goddamn mind. Unless he managed to figure out a way to become a sterling example of witchhood he was going to wind up forever watching her walk away from him.
“Get out of here before you do any more damage, Zachary.” Jo dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Why don’t you go get lunch or something?”
“Lunch. Sure.” Zach stalked out of the room, desperately trying to close his ears to the snickering witches that cleared a broad path around him.
“And, Zachary?” Jo wouldn’t even look at him. “Don’t bother coming back.”
Zach froze for all of two seconds, his hand clenching around the twisted amulet, before striding out of the Lodge and right to his car.
Fuck it. If people were going to treat him like shit they were damn well going to be family, not a bunch of asshole strangers who didn’t even know who Zachary Beckett was. He stewed the entire way to his shitty rented townhouse, slammed into his room and grabbed his suitcase. He was determined to leave the dust of the court behind him.
Lana insisted being a witch was “instinctive�
��. Well, he’d see how he lived on those instincts of his from now on.
He was so fucking tired of never having anyone who believed in him. The only person who came close was Lana. It still amazed him that it had taken Lana such a short amount of time to figure out the truth. The flow of magic that called to him was so different from the orderly, precise way his brothers practiced the craft. He wasn’t even certain he could explain the joy that ran through his veins whenever he cast a spell, the need to use his abilities to help those around him.
He knew he wasn’t completely useless. Hadn’t he saved Lana from that hex Cole Godwin had cast on her? She’d be dead now if he hadn’t known what to do and acted on it. He’d also saved his brother’s life, using a spell Annabelle had told him privately she’d thought impossible to perform.
So why couldn’t he do a simple spell? Why, when he reached for the magic, was it a raging torrent rather than the steady trickle most other witches talked about?
Why was he considered a failure here, too, when he knew, deep in his bones, he was not?
Zach zipped his case closed and headed down the stairs. He had no idea why things had gone so wrong but he was going to find out. And he knew just the woman to ask: Annabelle Evans, Lana’s grandmother. Right now she was the only one he trusted to give it to him straight, good or bad. Zach got into his car and headed for the airport. It was time to head back to Philadelphia.
No time like the present to solve the mystery of one Zachary Beckett.
“Lord and Lady help me, that boy is going to be the death of me.” Jo stared at the green M&M on the back of the throne and shook her head. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“That should be obvious.” Ari was glaring at her, like somehow the attack of the candy man was her fault.
Zachary was, without a doubt, the worst witch it had ever been her displeasure to train. She matched Ari glare for glare. “The boy is a menace.” A blue-eyed, sexy-as-hell menace she had no intention of giving in to. She’d seen the longing looks he sent her way when he thought she wasn’t watching, but what he didn’t know was she was always watching.
