The Lycan and His Witch (3 page)

The
him
in question was
the Lycan in her living room right now. She’d known instantly
he
was the one when she’d seen him standing naked in the
woods. She didn’t know if it was magic, the heavens, or just
primitive instinct, but she’d known he was her destiny.

A strange thought struck her.
She didn’t even know his name.

Nervous, she went back into the
living room and saw him lifting the empty tray. Goodness! He’d
eaten everything. He
was
hungry, she thought with another
stab of guilt.

“It was delicious. Thank you,”
he said. “Where can I put this?”

She would have gone up to him
and taken the tray from his hands, but she refrained and kept her
distance.

“This way,” Zora said in a small
voice.

He followed her into the kitchen
and she pointed to the counter. “You can put it over there,” she
said. She turned and faced him, nearly jumping back. He stood close
to her and she had to crane her head to look up at him. God he was
so tall and…and big. Her gaze fell on his sensual mouth and her
stomach jolted in response. “I…I made up your room if you’d like to
rest. The bathroom is in the hall and I put fresh towels by the
basin.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll take
you up on your offer.”

She nodded, her eyes wavering
under his deep, penetrating gaze. “It’s the first door on the left
in hall.” The tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves.

Cautiously, she stepped around
him and left the kitchen. What had she been thinking, allowing him
to stay for two days? She couldn’t even manage two minutes before
her heart raced and her breath caught.

Cursing uncharacteristically
under her breath, she did what she always did when she was nervous
or unsettled. She went out into her garden, Luna trailing at her
feet.

Two hours later, after she’d
planted the last of her aloe seeds, she went to her vegetable
garden in the back and began plucking ripe tomatoes from their
stems. The sun was setting and she welcomed the cool air.

“There you are.”

His deep voice jolted her and
she looked up, her gaze gliding over his muscular legs, his taut
abdomen and chiselled arms, his massive shoulders, to his face. Her
heart jumped. He had a strong, sexy face with smouldering eyes and
sensual lips. “Did you rest well?” she asked politely, trying to
keep her nerves in check. The man was a walking menace to her
senses.

“Yes. Thank you.” He flicked an
interested glance at her garden and gave her an approving look.
“This is quite an assortment of vegetables. You have a green
thumb.” He paused, frowning thoughtfully. “I’m curious why you
would plant things when you could easily conjure them up.”

Zora tensed, turning away from
him and placed more tomatoes in her basket. “I told you, I’m not
that powerful. What you’ve heard about me is hearsay. Legend. I’m
the evil witch who lives in the forest and eats little children,”
she said grimly.

She felt his presence next to
her and gasped, snapping her gaze to his profile. He had bent down
next to her and was staring at her tomatoes. Thank God she was
fully covered. The only skin she exposed was her face, and she
doubted he wanted to brush her cheek tenderly with his hand or…or
kiss her. The thought left her flustered and she plucked a tomato
with more force than necessary.

“We can’t magically produce
things from thin air. We have incantations, spells that set things
in motion.”

“Like cures,” he answered
quietly.

She knew what he was thinking.
He still thought she could cure him of his werewolf curse. “I can’t
help you…er…” She cleared her throat delicately. “I don’t even know
your name.”

“Bryce Derekson.”

“Bryce.” She liked the sound of
his name on her lips. She returned her focus on the tomatoes. “As I
said, I can’t help you. Our spells can cure a cold or a broken
limb, but not a dark curse. The werewolf curse originated thousands
of years ago and no one in all that time has been able to remove
it.”

She thought about her own curse,
and a spasm of sympathy for him coursed through her veins. She was
as helpless as he was, irony itself since they were both quite
powerful, yet
powerless
to save themselves.

She looked at him and caught him
staring at her with a mixture of disappointment and scepticism on
his handsome face. “I’m sorry, Bryce,” she said quietly. “I really
am. I know what you’re going through.”

His expression darkened. “Do
you? I’m a monster.
A beast
. How can you know what I feel?
What can you possibly know of my curse?”

“A curse can come in many forms.
I know how helpless you feel. How trapped you are.” She swallowed
hard. “I know you want what all men can have. Love, happiness,
family. I know your curse brings you pain, loneliness, despair.
What good is immortality when you see your loved ones die and have
an eternity to grieve, unable to meet them on the other side?”

What good was all the love she
had in her heart when she knew it would kill her true love? Her
eyes pricked with unshed tears and she blinked rapidly.

Zora watched his expression
flicker and she wondered what Bryce was thinking to make him look
so puzzled.

* * * *

Bryce was astonished at her
perception. She saw the part of him he kept hidden from the world.
His heart thudded against his chest. He’d never come across anyone
in his three hundred years who had such an acute sense of his
torment. The wolf within him responded fiercely to her and Bryce
gritted his teeth as he held his beast down. Hell! Was his beast
attracted to her?

Suddenly, as if by some magical
touch of the setting sun’s light, he saw a subtle change come over
her face. Her lips seemed fuller, her hair glistened with a hint of
gold, her skin softened. His gaze rested on her mouth and he
stiffened violently as his wolf fought for release.

Your wolf can’t see her,
his conscious whispered.

But
Bryce
could. Absurd!
He’d bedded hundreds of women in his lifetime and no one bore any
resemblance to her. Stifling a grimace, he glanced briefly at her
grotesquely large nose and her drooping breasts, but his beast
didn’t seem to care. His wolf wanted to claim her.

He growled and her lips parted
in fear. Bryce couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth. He…he
wanted to kiss her.

Rising abruptly to his feet, he
towered over her and glared down at her upturned face.

“I’m going to take a walk,” he
ground out, and turned abruptly on his heel and left.

* * * *

Zora stared at him retreating
and wondered what she had said to make Bryce so hostile.

* * * *

Morganna’s mouth twisted into a
cruel, yet satisfied smile as she gazed into her crystal ball. “My
spell is already working,” she said.

She raised her hand and the
image of Zora kneeling in her garden disappeared, and another image
appeared. She watched Bryce stomping through the woods, hands
clenched at his sides, his mouth grim with dark thoughts.

“He’s beginning to like her,”
she whispered to herself, more than a little surprised, yet excited
by how quickly his feelings were evolving. “Hmm. At this rate, in a
couple of days, my little Zora will kill him.”

Her mouth twisted as she
recalled how her heart had been broken all those centuries ago.
Anger and vengeance had replaced her pain, and she took great
pleasure watching all her descendants lose their Lycan lovers.

The image of her beautiful
sister, Larissa, sprang into her mind, begging Morganna to
understand and forgive her.

There had been nothing to
understand or forgive, Morganna thought angrily. He loved her! He
chose her—her beautiful, sweet sister. The sister who could do no
wrong, who was loved by all—even the Lycan Morganna had fallen in
love with.

Well, he had paid the price for
his betrayal—with his life.

She waved a furious hand at the
ball, the image of Bryce raising his head to the sky and releasing
a long howl disappearing. She stalked from the room, stopping in
her tracks when she caught her reflection from the floor length
mirror next to the dark passage that led to her secret caverns
below.

What if Zora saw her reflection
and noticed her changes? The little minx was bright, Morganna
thought. Zora would know what she was up to.

Morganna would have to take care
of that.

She raised her hand and called
out another incantation, smiling cruelly as she spoke.

“A reflection none for thee,
break all looking glass by three.”

Chapter Five

Zora recalled how much he’d
eaten at lunch and added more potatoes on his plate. She stared at
his portion of meat and wondered if it was enough when a loud crash
made her jump. She ran to her bedroom and saw Luna perched on her
dresser, her hair raised, hissing at all the broken glass.

She stared at the mirror laying
flat on her dresser. She choked back on a sob and ran to her cat,
lifting her from the mess.

“Did you hurt yourself?” She
cast a fearful glance over Luna’s black and white coat and breathed
with relief when she didn’t see any blood.

“Thank God,” she whispered.
“What were you doing up here?” she scolded softly. Bending down,
she released Luna who was struggling to get out of her arms. “Go.
Shoo.”

Zora groaned softly as she
stared at the mess that she had to clean. She heard movement in the
living room and knew Bryce had finally returned. She left her
bedroom and saw him staring at the dinner table.

“I hope you like lamb,” she
said

“I do. Thank you.”

“I’ll join you in a minute. I
have to clean something first. Luna made a mess.”

Bryce raised a brow. “Luna?”

“My cat.” She motioned to the
table. “Somehow, she managed to jostle my mirror with her paw and
there’s broken glass everywhere. Please have a seat.”

“I’m going to wash my hands
first.”

Back in her bedroom, as she
finished collecting the last piece of glass, she heard a strange
thud followed by a muffled curse from the bathroom. Worried, she
fled from her bedroom and sped into the hall. Bryce stood there,
holding her mirror against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It
appeared crooked and I tried to straighten it. I guess the wire was
loose and it fell. I’m afraid there are a couple of long cracks in
the glass.”

Two mirrors in a span of five
minutes. “Never two without three,” she muttered, thinking about
her remaining mirror in his bedroom. “It’s not your fault, Bryce.
It was loose and I’ve been meaning to fix it. Did you get
hurt?”

His mouth quirked. “Yes, but I’m
a Lycan, remember? My cuts heal instantly.”

“Right.”

“Where can I put this?”

“In the backyard, there’s a
black, metal container. You can’t miss it.”

He nodded brusquely. “I’ll put
this away for you and meet you in the dining room.”

Bryce moved towards her and she
jumped back. His elbow had come dangerously close to her.

Ten minutes later, they sat at
the table, eating in silence. Every once in a while, his dark gaze
clashed with hers and his mouth thinned. She wondered what he was
thinking about and wished she had the power to read minds—but only
vampires held that distinction.

“Why do you want the cure for
your werewolf curse?” she asked softly. At Bryce’s sharp look, she
continued breathlessly. “I mean you heal instantly and from what I
know about werewolves, you’re immortal.”

His mouth twisted wryly. “And
you see immortality as a blessing. It’s not. It’s a curse.” He
reached for his ale, taking a deep swig.

“You’ve watched all your loved
ones die and you’ve stayed young and healthy,” she offered gently.
He didn’t look more than thirty years old.

His face darkened. “Yes. And
those who were Lycan, I’ve watched staked through the heart with
silver.”

She gasped softly. “I’m sorry,
Bryce.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

“How…how old are you?”

“I’m three hundred years
old.”

His tone was abrupt, telling her
he didn’t want to talk about this. “People see immortality as a
gift, but I suppose it does come with a terrible price,” she
offered gently.

“And you? What is the terrible
price you pay for your ability to conjure spells?”

She didn’t take offense to his
harsh tone. “Look around you, Bryce. Do you see anyone else here?
I’ve been alone since my mother died five years ago. I…I have no
friends, no family. Witches keep to their kind and my line has
dwindled down to me.”

“You’re the last of your
generation?”

“Yes.” Except for Morganna, she
thought. Her mind went back to that day when she’d learned how
Morganna became immortal.

“
Momma, how could she still
be alive after all these centuries,” Zora had asked as a young
girl.

“
A witch turns immortal when
she kills another witch,” her mother had answered grimly. “She
killed her sister.”

Zora tore her gaze away from
Bryce’s penetrating eyes.

“You must have felt pressure
growing up knowing you were the last one to continue your line,” he
said.

“No. I never wanted to follow my
ancestors’ footsteps and marry without love,” she said without
thinking.

His brow rose. “Indeed. That was
an odd choice.”

“It was the
only
choice.”
She had said too much and decided to choose her next words
carefully. “My ancestors chose good, strong, capable men to marry
for the sole purpose of having a family. Love was never a factor,
although they did grow to have affection for each other.” She
cleared her throat delicately and reached for her bread.