Hex and the Single Witch
Page 1
Hex and the Single Witch
by Saranna Dewylde
Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com
Copyright ©2011 by Saranna DeWylde
First published in 2011
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
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A Total-E-Bound Publication
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www.total-e-bound.com
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Hex and the Single Witch
ISBN #978-0-85715-802-4
(C)Copyright Saranna DeWylde 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh (C)Copyright November 2011
Edited by Rebecca Hill
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 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
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Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 2.
University of Magic and Mayhem
HEX AND THE SINGLE WITCH
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Saranna DeWylde
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Practice Safe Hex!
As a Hexacology major at the University of Magic and Mayhem, Caraway Wormwood has always practiced safe hex.
Until her latest break-up with a footballer troll pushes her too far. When a good witch is ready to go bad, who better to bring her over to the dark side than the son of the Devil?
Alexander Morningstar has wanted to get his horns into Caraway Wormwood for years. He knows he’s the right one to flesh out her education, but after one lesson plan Alexander is the one doing homework. He can’t get enough of the wannabe wicked witch.
Education at the University of Magic and Mayhem is more than scrolls and potions. It’s a wild romp with dual-sexed Valentine fairies, scheming trolls, brazen warlocks and an Infernal Prince Charming who decides he may just have to have his own brand of Happily Ever After.
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Dedication
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For the Sanibel Divas.
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Trademarks Acknowledgement
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The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
GQ: Conde Nast Publications
Rosa Regale: Banfi Vintners
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[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
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“I bet when she comes, it’s with a burst of pink glitter right out of her quim,” Coriander Wormwood whispered spitefully in her lilting London accent.
“Her eyes are pink, too. She looks like an anorexic lab rat that’s been snorting fairy dust. Fucking Valentine fairies,” Caraway Wormwood, her American cousin, responded with disgust.
The target of their ridicule tossed her pink hair over her shoulder and batted her insanely long eyelashes at one Brody Bendopolous, the blond, blue-eyed sex-god troll of every girl’s dreams. At least, if said girl went to UMM, the University of Magic and Mayhem.
Stupid trolls. Why do they have to be so hot? Caraway sighed.
“And her name? Clarabelle? Sounds like she should be in a pasture somewhere with her dumb face buried in a feedbag,” Coriander said with a giggle.
“Someone ought to strap her down and feed her. She’s so skinny. She’s one of those girls who thinks skinny is automatically sexy. Even though she has no tits at all,” Caraway said and looked down at her own generous helping of cleavage. She wondered why Brody would prefer a female with negative A cups to her own overabundance.
“Maybe Brody’s into blokes. That would explain it,” Coriander replied thoughtfully.
Caraway sighed again as she considered the possibility, as well as myriad ways to make Brody pay for breaking up with her at the Samhain mixer so everyone could see her humiliation in high def.
She turned her head to look across the courtyard— anywhere but at Brody and Clarabelle—but regretted it instantly. There, in all his satanic and well-bred glory, was Alexander Morningstar, crossing the courtyard with his crew of fledgeling warlocks. He was, unfortunately, the TA in her Advanced Hexacology class and on the High Council of UMM— which made him a constant pain in her ass.
Yes, he was hot, too. Hot as Hell, to be precise, the son of the Devil and a female warlock. His hair was as black as sin.
He had a lush, pre-Raphaelite mouth, sharp cheekbones and a nose that had been broken—most likely on purpose so he wouldn’t be so damn pretty. His shoulders were as wide as Brody’s and he was an inch taller. Caraway blamed his handmade Italian shoes and GQ. It was probably a charm.
She’d bet anything he didn’t really look like that. All those white, straight teeth were probably rotten and green. It was what she hoped for, anyway. She’d also decided it was a sin for any man to look that good in a polo shirt and jeans. Even if they were designer.
“Don’t look now, Cous. Here comes Captain Cock and his crew of knoblings.” Coriander tugged on her shoulder.
“I see them.” Caraway wanted to turn and run screaming in the other direction. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Morningstar today. He was always such a bastard and, for some reason, his favourite pastime was goading her. His disciples didn’t generally bother with her, but they all took great amusement in watching the verbal sparring matches.
“Wormwood,” he said cheerfully as he approached.
Damn it. No chance he would move on to other prey. He was disgustingly cheerful. “Morningstar,” she acknowledged.
“I see your footballer troll has moved on to greener and leaner pastures,” he replied in a pleasant tone.
“I don’t know about greener,” Coriander interjected. “That would imply less experience, as opposed to the drive-thru lane she has in her cunny.”
He raised a black brow and smirked. “You have a wicked tongue, Coriander.”
Leaner? Had he just called her fat? He insulted her constantly for her witch heritage, but he’d never stooped
to insulting her shape. She could admit she was curvier than the average UMM co-ed, but Caraway thought it looked good on her. And why was he calling her cousin by her first name when all he ever called her was ‘Wormwood’?
Not that she cared.
Her power gathered and crackled in green light around her fingers.
“Just catching the ‘leaner’ part of that comment, are we?” he drawled. Morningstar turned his attention back to her and eyed her up and down, his dark eyes glittering with blatant appreciation. “I didn’t say leaner was better.”
She couldn’t decide which irritated her more—that he was ogling her or that she liked it. Caraway flushed under his perusal and decided it was definitely that she liked it. A cardinal sin, if she’d ever heard one. He was a right bastard, as Coriander liked to say. Through and through. As good as he looked, there was nothing but shit underneath.
“I don’t give an eye of newt what you think is better, Morningstar.”
“Really?” His gaze raked over her again, a leisurely burn that would have her squirming later to the rapid stroke of her own fingers. “That’s too bad.”
Was he flirting with her? He’d succeeded in raising Hell, because she was in it. He must want something from her and she was determined to figure out what it was before this all got way out of hand. “And why is that?”
“I’ve decided I like you, Wormwood.” He paused to look at her again. “Yes, I like you very much.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” Caraway scowled.
He laughed and damn if the sound didn’t settle deep in her belly and make her want. Anything with a womb would tear down cities with her bare hands just to hear that laugh again and know it was for her alone.
“Caraway,” he said, his tongue lingering over the syllables as if he were actually tasting them. The way he said her name was like a caress and it slipped inside her, touching dark places that burnt.
No! No, bad Caraway! She mentally slapped herself. He was the Devil. Or he would be when his father abdicated.
Whatever. He was bad. By Hecate, she liked it better when he was insulting her.
“Don’t you have puppies to kick?”
He laughed again.
Bastard.
“No, that was on my to-do list yesterday. Today, it’s tormenting dark-eyed witches in delectably tight T-shirts.”
As if her day couldn’t get any worse, Brody and Clarabelle had wandered over. Or more like Brody had seen her talking to Morningstar and had to come to assure his ego she hadn’t moved on yet. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. Typical troll behaviour. That’s why they were ugly beasts in all the stories—an allegory for their shitty personalities. She wasn’t even sure now why she’d dated him. She didn’t like him as a person, not after she’d got to know him.
“Cara, sleeping with the enemy?” Brody said in a disapproving tone. Clarabelle was plastered to his side like a barnacle. An ugly, glittery, condescending growth.
“It’s not your business, Brody.” Coriander rushed to her defence.
“Oh, I see. It’s a ploy to make me jealous.” He shook his blond head.
“Brody, you can’t even spell ploy, so don’t try to use it in a sentence,” Caraway replied in a saucy tone.
“Cara.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.
“You have to accept that it’s over. It was good while it lasted, but let it go.” Brody made an earnest face.
For a moment, Caraway couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Brody wasn’t just here to make sure she hadn’t moved on, he was twisting the knife. Why he wanted to humiliate her, Caraway didn’t know, but he’d thrown the gauntlet.
She jerked away from him and ploughed backwards into Morningstar. The heat of embarrassment burnt like it was melting her face, but Alexander set his hands on her hips to steady her and the burn of humiliation flamed to something else she didn’t want to think about. Later, she would claim the Devil made her do it, but for now it seemed to be the only way out of this situation that would give her a one-up on Brody. Morningstar claimed to like her—let him put his money where his sinful mouth was.
Caraway didn’t doubt for a moment he’d play along with her little scheme, even if he hadn’t been serious about liking her. It was just the sort of mind-fuck that would amuse him.
She slipped her arm around Alexander’s waist and rested her head on his broad chest. The scent of him reminded her of burning leaves on a crisp fall day. It was her favourite scent. Caraway inhaled deeply and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment—her very real pleasure added to the charade.
She wondered briefly whether, if her favourite scent had been cat litter, that’s how he would smell to her. His hand came to rest on the small of her back and his fingers scorched through her clothes, branding her with desire. Oh, this had been a terrible mistake, she decided as she licked her lips with anticipation.
In for a penny...
“Brody, I thought you knew. I thought that was why you broke up with me.” Caraway smiled.
“Knew what?” he asked slowly, like a dumb beast who couldn’t understand what was happening around him.
“That I’ve been fucking Alexander.” His name rolled off her tongue like the most decadent of confections and she wanted to say it again—she liked the taste of it.
Clarabelle’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of her head and roll away like fat, pink marbles. Coriander’s mouth dropped open, but promptly snapped shut, and the demon crew waited patiently to see what their leader would do.
Morningstar didn’t miss a beat. “I told you he didn’t know, sweetness. I won that little wager. Now, you’ll have to pay up,” he promised. Or threatened. Yes, it was definitely a threat. He would make her pay for this little show.
For the briefest moment, Caraway imagined paying up. In his bed. On the floor. There in the courtyard... It would certainly take away her culpability. Yes, she was finding ‘the Devil made me do it’ was indeed a useful tool she should have discovered much earlier in life.
“I don’t believe you,” Brody said and shook his head.
“That’s not nice, Caraway. Brody and I waited until he broke up with you.” Clarabelle shook her head in unison with Brody.
“Yes, but he broke up with me in front of the entire student body of UMM.”
“Yes,” Clarabelle piped up again. “That wasn’t nice of him, either.”
“See? I knew this was to make me jealous. I don’t care if you—”
Caraway didn’t hear the rest of what Brody had to say because Alexander had tangled his hands in her hair and had yanked her around to face him. She had no time to demur or even process what was happening. His mouth was hot and insistent on hers, ravaging her lips until she opened for him.
He tasted of sin and she wanted more. Caraway wanted to sin wholly in that moment, to experience all the decadence she tasted on him.
Until the knowledge she was actually kissing Alexander ‘Son of the Devil’ Morningstar slapped her in the face. He sensed her sudden retreat and tightened his arms around her, anchoring her to him and the moment. Cara was helpless against his strength and she surrendered.
Perverse creature that he was, that was when Alexander released her. “Yes, my little witch, you will definitely pay up.”
His hard mouth curled into a knowing smirk.
She was suddenly fascinated by his expression. She’d been determined not to look at him like some moon-eyed calf, but she couldn’t help it. Her gaze was drawn immediately to his mouth, the shape of his lips, the flash of his perfect teeth, and Caraway couldn’t help but imagine his mouth in places Brody had never dreamed of kissing. Although she couldn’t let him have the last word.
“Of course I will. I never welch on a bet, lover. You should know that about me by now,” Caraway promised boldly.
“I was counting on it.” Fire raged in his eyes for a moment before he brushed his thumb across her swollen bottom lip.
Her slit clenched at the caress, but she still wasn’t about to be one-upped. She darted her tongue out to swirl across his finger and nipped at the tip. His eyes widened, but only for a moment before he laughed.
“You still have demerits to work off, don’t you? Why don’t you stay after Hexacology and we’ll discuss terms.”
Sweet Baby Mithras in a ball gag! What the Hell had she got herself into? Panic rose in her throat and threatened to choke her. Well, of course he’d want his payment immediately. He was Alexander Morrigan-damned Morningstar.
Fuck.
What was she going to do?
Her only option was to pay up. She crossed her legs.
“You look like you have to take a piss,” Coriander hissed in her ear.
Cara righted herself with a shaky breath and watched Morningstar cross the quad towards the Hexacology building.
She’d made her bed. Built it with brimstone. Now, she’d have to burn in it. Caraway licked her lips as she remembered his kiss. Oh, how she’d burn.
“Cara, you know, maybe I was a little hasty—” Brody began.
“Fuck yourself sideways, troll,” she said cheerfully and, without waiting for an answer, grabbed Coriander by the elbow as much to stand up straight as to shuffle her to their next class.
“Bloody Hell, Cous. Did that just happen?” Coriander blinked owlishly at her.
“I think it did.”
“I don’t know whether to slap you on the back and congratulate you, or just slap you.”
“Either would be fine at this point,” Cara said, horrified.
She probably needed to be slapped. Hard.
“And I thought it was melt-worthy when he said I had a wicked tongue. You actually got yours in his mouth. So tell me, did he taste like fire and brimstone? Burnt marshmallows and chocolate? Tell me!”