Must Be Magic (Spellbound) (34 page)

“You don’t know that.” The words were like blistering rocks in his throat.

Her lips whispered over his, her gaze reassuring. “And you don’t know that I’m wrong.”

He shook his head. “What you’re asking…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought aloud. She couldn’t possibly understand that if he opened that door, he couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t get hurt.

When a wolf is hot for a witch, the sparks can be downright dangerous.

Hecate’s Own

© 2013 Dana Marie Bell

Heart’s Desire, Book 2

Zachary Beckett has finally done something right. He saved his brother’s life, and his reward is a ticket to Cleveland to train as a witch. Except every spell he casts wreaks havoc—until he’s banished to the children’s classroom.

At least his teacher is easy on the eyes. It isn’t long before the heat is rising, and it has nothing to do with a bubbling cauldron.

Jo has never met a walking Karma bomb like Zachary. His blue eyes haunt her, his body is made for sin, and his magic? The less said about that the better. But Jo is determined to help him, even if she has to fight their mutual attraction, tooth and nail.

When Zach discovers he’s been operating under a hex, he and Jo come together in a blazing-hot ritual to break its hold and reveal Zach’s destiny to fight evil. But the old enemy who cast the spell won’t give up until every Beckett male is stripped of his mate. Which could leave Zach to howl in agony forever—and doom Jo to a fate worse than death.

Warning: This novel contains explicit sex, graphic language, a sexy, awkward, blue-eyed wolf-witch and a woman who can make his dreams come true.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hecate’s Own:

“Ow!” Zach rubbed his head with his good hand. “Why did you smack me upside the head?”

Jo shrugged. “Pay attention to the spellwork, not Gen’s ass.”

He blinked. He hadn’t been staring at Gen’s ass, fine work of art though it was. He’d much rather stare at Jo’s.

She stroked her finger once more across the Wheel burned into his flesh. He shuddered, need racking him once more. The pain receded, to be replaced by a different kind of pain.

Fuck, he
needed
her. His wolf howled its approval of their mate.

Zach’s eyes widened.
Oh no.
He had to keep his wolf from claiming Jo or all hell would break loose. He still wasn’t sure he hadn’t cast a love spell on her.

Hell. Maybe he’d cast one on himself, too. Was his heart supposed to beat this hard just because she’d touched him so gently?

“What’s this?”

Her free hand reached out to touch the emerald ring.

“No!” Zach grabbed it just as she touched it.

Warmth flowed up his arm, twining around them both like a sleek silken rope, binding them together. He could feel the spell settle inside himself, knew by her indrawn breath that she felt the same. His cock was so hard he felt like he would burst with the slightest breath.

Shit. Definitely not a love spell.
He was ensnared just as much as she was now. The spell recognized the one person meant to be his love, twined his essence with hers, leaving him open and vulnerable to anything she cared to do to him. If she left him, he would die.

He was so fucking screwed it wasn’t even funny.

“What the hell is that?” He watched her lick her lips and fucking moaned. “Zach?”

She was looking up at him, lust blazing across her face. He knew what he was going to do, what the consequences would more than likely be. But he couldn’t leave either of them like this. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Her eyes went wide as his lips slammed down across hers.

He tried to be gentle with her, the gods knew he did, but he’d been dying inside without her. The feel of her in his arms, her mouth on his, her breasts against his chest, was too much for him.

He was going to have her, right here, right now.

He lifted her up until her ass rested on the edge of the worktable. He stepped between her spread legs and buried his hand in her hair. Without thought he pulled, tilting her until her mouth was at the perfect angle for his kiss.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he waited for the shove he knew was coming.

It didn’t. Instead she shocked the hell out of him and pulled him closer.

That was it. That was all she wrote for one Zachary Beckett. He was a doomed man, and he knew it.

He reached down to feel the weight of her breast in his palm. The soft mound was more than enough to please him, the nipple hard against his fingers. He tore his mouth from hers and began tugging at her shirt. “Jo.”

“Yes.”

He shivered. He never thought he’d hear her say that.

When she yanked her shirt off and dropped it to the floor he nearly followed it. She was magnificent, all bronzed skin covered in green satin. He was dying to see her out of the green bra, to free her breasts and feast on their bounty. “Fuck, Jo. You’re exquisite.”

She bit her lip, her look uncertain. “What are we doing?”

He lifted his gaze from her breasts and met her worried eyes. “What do you think?”

If she asked him to stop, if she wanted him to walk away, he would. He’d die once he was out the door, but he’d do it for her.

He’d do
anything
for her.

She sat up and tugged at the edges of his shirt. “You’re younger than me.”

His eyebrows rose. “My father is three years younger than my mother.”

“You’re my student.”

No way in hell was she using that as an excuse. “Consider yourself fired.”

She glared at him. “I’m a damn good teacher.”

He nodded. She was. She truly cared about her students, even him. “You’re the best.”

That seemed to mollify her.

He cupped her cheek with his good hand. “I need you, Jo. You have no idea how badly I need you.”

She closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek into his palm. “This is so hard, to know the right thing to do.”

The right thing would be to put her shirt back on her and shove her out the door. The right thing would be to curl up in the corner and let himself go. He was going to die, he knew that now. There was no way Jo would accept someone like him long-term, and without that, the spell would never be complete. Zach’s life would be forfeit, the curse fulfilled.

“Be with me.” If he could have her just once, it would make letting her go all the harder, but he’d have a sweet memory to carry into the dark with him.

At least he’d remembered not to ask for her love.

She was biting that full lip of hers again. Zach gently removed it from between her teeth and kissed the minute hurt.

“Yes.”

Zach closed his eyes and thanked the Gods for small mercies. “Thank you.”

“Zach?”

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice still, and it was driving him insane. “I’ll take care of you, Jo.”

“What…?” She was watching him with an unnerved expression as he stalked to the workroom door and locked it.

“We don’t want to be interrupted, right?”

She bit her lip, but he doubted she was upset. Not when she removed her bra, tossing it on the floor with a scorching look. All that he could see was Jo, her eyes hot, her breasts begging for his touch. “You’ll never regret this.”

She smiled, and he did melt for her. “I know.”

He reached out and plucked one dusky nipple, earning himself the sweetest moan. “You have no idea what this means to me.” And she never would. He would keep it from her and swear his brothers to secrecy.

She would never know she was his mate.

There’s nothing more deceptive than the truth…

Playing Against Type

© 2014 Heather Long

Soulgirls, Book 4

Pepper Kirk lives for the moment. Diagnosed with an incurable disease, she set out to see the world and found a place—and remission—at the Arcana Royale. For once, life is perfect. Until a federal agent appears, determined to catch the casino in corruption.

Owing her very existence to the magic that sustains her—Pepper reluctantly agrees to seduce the handsome agent and sabotage his surveillance, though she’s not sure how a woman without a dishonest bone in her body will make it work.

Finn Mickelson’s investigation into a crime family is only a smokescreen to keep his real targets off balance. Nothing will keep this witchborn from digging into the secrets of the Royale—not even a Southern belle with honeyed tones and a sweet smile.

He quickly sees through her ruse, yet he finds himself falling under the spell of her porcelain doll beauty, even wanting to help her. But for love to take hold, they’ll have to play the house in a game that’s stacked against them…or lose their lives.

Warning: Contains lies, deceptions, twists, turns, behind-the-scenes plotting, a man with a revengenda, a southern belle who just wants to live her life—and a game they didn’t know they were playing.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Playing Against Type:

Heidi glanced up from the paperwork spread across her desk, a frisson of awareness skating up her spine. Eyes narrowing, she stared at the door. It was the middle of the day and all of the dancers slept in their frozen states, silent and secure. No one moved in the theatre, not even Stan. Minion slept along the back of her shoulders, tufted ears folded close to her head and the imp’s fuzzy kitten-like face buried in Heidi’s hair. Flipping the folder closed, she waited.

The handle turned silently and the door swung inwards. A tall man with black hair leaned against the doorframe. The flirty smile on his lips didn’t quite touch his devastating blue eyes. “Miss Heidi.”

“Connor.” The shadow man’s arrival didn’t bode well. He rarely ventured into the Midnight Mystery Lounge unless something was wrong. Sadly, she’d already had to deal with him twice in as many months over issues with two of her dancers. As far as she knew, however, no one else should have earned this kind of personal attention.

“You don’t look very happy to see me. I’m wounded.” He grinned and strolled into her office. His gaze swept over the contents of the room, from the books lining the walls to the stack of puzzle boxes decorating a shelf. Despite his apparent interest in the surroundings, she knew it was a ruse. He would detect even the faintest trace of weakness in her.

Fortunately, she’d overcome her weakness for him years before.

She closed the folder. “I’m busy, Connor. What do you need?” She added the folder to another stack and dragged a new one toward her. She didn’t bother to read the words, looking at the information inside was enough to piss him off.

He dropped into a chair opposite her desk and swung his booted feet up to rest against the polished wood, one ankle over the other. “Some days I think you forget who is in charge.”

“Some days I think you forget who kicked your ass.” She lifted an absent hand up to brush against Minion’s downy soft head and kept the little one asleep.

Warm masculine laughter spilled from his throat, an invitation for sex that would have drowned an unprotected woman in a sea of lust. “I never forget why I like you.”

“Well that makes one of us. What do you want, Connor?” It was the second time she’d asked. If he forced a third, she would have to remind him that despite his position, she ruled this theatre.

The Midnight Mystery Lounge belonged to her, and it didn’t matter that it sat nestled in the heart of the Arcana Royale. She owned it through her blood, sweat and tears. Everything and everyone in it was under her protection. She fought for those contracts, held them tight in her fists, and wouldn’t allow the Overseers any more influence than they were due. Yes, they had some lease on the girls’ souls, but she had everything else. She hoarded that control and the ability to negotiate their freedom when the right circumstances presented themselves.

“Fine. Business it is, then.” Disappointment flickered across his face, too quick for her to grasp what had upset him. She ignored the tug of curiosity. Better to avoid traveling that path again. “We have an issue that needs your delicate touch.”

My delicate touch? Circumstances must be dire indeed if he issued his invitation in such flattering terms. “I’m listening.”

Connor pulled his legs back and leaned forward. His intense gaze locked on hers and urged her cooperation. The compulsion eddied over the surface of her skin, but couldn’t quite penetrate her shields. It wasn’t on purpose, his power came from deep within and he wore it like others would a finely cut suit—natural and effortless.

“An FBI agent checked into the Royale this morning. His name is Finn Mikelson.” He paused, as though waiting for her to acknowledge the name.

The name meant nothing to her, however. “And I care because…?”

“Because he is here to gather evidence about the casino’s secrets and to build a case against the owners.” The declaration actually surprised her.