Witches Anonymous (7 page)
“Is it over?” I asked Luc, my voice raw.
He slid off the table and helped me into a sitting position. “It’s over.”
Using his fingers, he touched my neck at the base of my throat. A sensation like ice cream running over my vocal chords repaired the damage done by the smoke. “For now,” he added.
For now
? Forcing the implications of that statement to the back of my mind, I pulled away from him and crawled over to Adam. He wasn’t breathing and I couldn’t find his pulse. His heart had stopped. “Liddy,” I yelled, waving her over. “Come here.”
Positioning her hands over Adam’s heart, I said to her, “Think of your family, Liddy, and the rotten things they’ve done to you. They’re just like my sister. They push all your buttons and turn you into a bad person, no matter how hard you try to be good.”
Liddy’s brows drew together and electricity crackled in the air. Sparks jumped in her hair and ran down both arms to her fingers. Adam’s body jerked. When I touched his neck to feel for a pulse, he blinked his eyes open.
“What happened?” he asked through the oxygen mask.
Removing it from his face, I sighed, feeling like a total loser, but happy that Adam was okay. “I blew it. I used my powers to stop the fire instead of resisting temptation.”
He blinked again and frowned. “Your powers?”
“I’m a witch, Adam. And not a good one. I work for Lucifer. Luc.” I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder at the Devil. “I wanted to be a good person, a normal person, really I did. That’s why I came to these meetings, Witches Anonymous. I even swore an oath not to use my powers, but I blew it tonight. I broke my oath. I cast a spell.”
“You’re a Devil-worshipping witch and you swore an oath to God?”
“To myself.”
“Oh.”
“She saved your life and ours,” Liddy said, smoothing back her hair. She stood and brushed dirt off her pants, examined her calm fingers. “If that’s not good, I don’t know what is.”
Lucifer moved beside me and stared down at Adam. “She also saved your chance at redemption.”
Adam glared up at him. “You again?”
“The proper response would be, ‘thank you, Amy’.” Lucifer crouched over Adam. “You see, my dear boy, in her spell, Amy protected you. You still have your chance at redemption. She sent Gabriel back to heaven, so you’re on your own now, though. The future is up to you.”
“It is?” Adam and I said in unison.
A cacophony of noise erupted behind us as several firefighters came busting in through the charred door. “Captain? Are you all right?”
Adam sat up, rubbed a hand over his face and through his soot-filled hair. “What took you guys so long?”
“It was weird, Cap,” a beefy guy answered. “There was like Plexiglas or something across the threshold out there. After you went in, none of us could get through it. We kept bouncing off.”
I exchanged a knowing look with Adam and realized Lucifer had disappeared. The pockets of my jean jacket suddenly felt like I had a couple of watermelons in them. A pleasant yellow glow radiated from both sides. Reaching inside, one hand found foil-wrapped squares, the other touched the edges of a small book. I pulled the book out enough to see the worn black cover. My spell book.
Adam rose to his feet and motioned at the others. “Get these ladies out of here.”
“Right away, Cap.”
As my fellow WA members filed out, I shoved the spell book back in my pocket and stood with Adam, helping support him. Some of the gals, like Liddy, embraced me in a hug. A few patted my arm. Marcia stopped beside me, looked down at the floor, and sighed. “I guess I owe you an apology. I thought you were—” she hesitated, looking for the right word, “—in serious need of a psychiatrist.”
We were even then, since I thought she was in serious need of Valium. “No hard feelings.”
She lifted her gaze to mine. “That other guy who was here?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that…” She blushed. “Was that really Satan?”
“Yes, Marcia, that was him. He prefers to be called Luc.”
“Luc, right. Do you think he might, you know, speak to our group sometime?”
Another woman seduced by a wicked man in faded Levi’s. “I’ll ask next time I run into him.”
She giggled all the way out of the room.
“Amy.” Adam took his arm from around my shoulders. “I’m not sure I understand what happened here.”
“The short version?” Slipping my hand into his, I pulled him toward the door, wanting to get the heck out of there and go home. I needed a shower, ice cream and a full night of sleep. “I stopped my evil sister from killing innocent people. I vanquished an angel, who wanted to be a god, back to heaven. And I improved my status in the Witches Anonymous group significantly. After tonight, I’ll be able to unseat Marcia as president next month when we have elections.”
“You’re sticking with Witches Anonymous even though you broke your oath?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Everyone falls off the wagon once in awhile. Besides, even though I did use my supernatural powers tonight, I did it for good. I think I’m getting the hang of being human.”
“What about, you know, Lucifer?”
I felt the weight of Dove chocolates and my spell book in my jacket pockets. “I’m sure he’ll be around, but I think I can handle him. Right now, he very much wants to stay on my good side.”
Adam’s lips quirked. “And the long version about tonight?”
“Oh, that.” Squeezing his arm, I hoped he’d understand my philosophical rant. “You see, free will begets self-responsibility. You can’t force someone else to be responsible for your decisions, even if the destiny of humanity rests on your shoulders.” I sensed he understood what I was getting at, so I took a breath and plunged on. “You take the credit and the blame, one-hundred percent, for your choices. No passing the buck. Or the forbidden fruit, for that matter. Eve sinned and so did you. You can’t blame her for tempting you to eat the apple or ask me to save you from eating it again.”
A chuckle resounded low and soft and sexy in his throat. “Sounds like you have a lot of ideas on the subject. I think I’d like to hear more.”
Lust crackled in the air between us. I raised one eyebrow. “How much time do you have?”
He pulled me close and brushed his lips over mine. My heart did a little dip and soft warmth spread through my chest. “Possibly eternity, but at least all night.”
Tendrils of anticipation ran up my spine. “Ice cream on the rooftop?”
His fingers touched the back of my neck. “Sin City Chocolate?”
My legs went weak. “Of course.”
What else would a wicked witch serve an innocent man?
About the Author
To learn more about Misty Evans, please visit
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Look for these titles by Misty Evans
Now Available:
Operation Sheba
Tickle My Fantasy Anthology
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant by Vivi Andrews
Carolina Wolf by Sela Carsen
ParaMatch.com by MK Mancos
Coming Soon:
I’d Rather be in Paris
She can match anyone. Except the man she can’t resist.
ParaMatch.com
Ó
2008 MK Mancos
A
Tickle My Fantasy
story
Dating in today’s world is tough enough. Pair it with a paranormalady, and Lucille Wainwright is living the recipe for loneliness. Born a talentless witch in a family of legendary spellcasters, she’s managed to carve a niche for herself with ParaMatch.com, a matchmaking service for paranormal beings.
What she lacks in the magic department, she more than makes up for with her uncanny ability to conjure committed relationships out of any combination of traits and backgrounds. Until now.
Enter Jager Cronus, deposed king of the Titans and successful paratrader. As a client, he’s a nightmare. As a man, he’s irresistible. When he demands a date with her to the annual Legion Halloween Dance, she’s hard pressed to refuse. With her professional ethics warring with a deep need to prove herself, she gives him two more chances to find love.
That’s all the opening Jager needs. After all, he didn’t survive his downfall without learning a few things about prevailing in the face of the stiffest negotiations.
Now he’s about to negotiate the deal of a lifetime—a future with Lucilla.
Warning: Contains inter-species romance, love potions, fallen Greek Gods, super-morphing wizards, and a male strip-tease.
Enjoy the following excerpt from
ParaMatch.com
:
She pulled slowly into her drive, looking in the rearview mirror at the car as the driver’s door opened. A tall, well-proportioned man stood. The light from the street lamp rendered his face half in shadow, but even from where Lucilla sat, she knew the identity of her mystery visitor.
Jager gazed over the top of his car and gave a hesitant wave.
Flutters like leaves stuck in a whirlwind flew around inside her stomach. She smoothed her hand over her abdomen in an attempt to calm the flying furies. What was it about Jager that made her body misbehave?
She motioned for him to come up to the house. It took him no time to get to her with his long strides.
He looked good. The dark suit jacket hung perfectly on his wide shoulders. He moved with elegant grace for such a big man. When he reached her, she looked up into his face, afraid he could hear her heart pound.
A rich, spicy scent filled her head.
Oh, Goddess weeping, he even smells good!
How was she supposed to resist him when he showed up at her door looking like the best fantasy she’d ever had? He gazed at her as if he didn’t know how he’d come to be standing on her doorstep. And for the life of her, Lucilla couldn’t think of a word to say.
Then he was there, kissing her mouth like a starving man. Lucilla put her hands on his shoulders, intending to push away from his unprovoked admiration, but only managed to sink her hands into his thick hair, holding onto him, afraid he’d let her go.
Her entire body melted against the wall of his heat. His tongue brushed against hers. A faint tang of cloves clung to his mouth. Why did he have to taste good, too? Now she’d never want to stop kissing him. But she had to. He was a client. His fees helped keep a roof over her head and food on her table. Kissing him was definitely unethical.
Lucilla managed to pull her mouth away from his. The maneuver didn’t have the desired effect of stopping the kiss. It only served to give him an opportunity to run his mouth into her hairline, to kiss her temple and breathe hot breath into her ear.
Her nipples were so hard they ached behind the confines of silk and lace. Without conscious thought, she arched her back, rubbing them against him for relief.
“Lucilla,” Jager moaned. “Please, don’t send me out on another bad date when I already know who I want.”
For a second she tensed, until she realized what he meant. She wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it. “Who do you want?”
He laid his forehead against hers. “I’m holding her right now.”
“If that’s true, why did you sign up for my services?”
“I didn’t know it was you.” He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “I’m not used to begging. It’s not in my nature. But if you make me go out with the djinn, I’ll be reduced to it.”
A fallen god begging? It made for an intriguing picture, but Lucilla had never been that cruel. She slid her hand in his then turned to the door. “Why don’t you come inside and we can discuss what we’re going to do with you.”
She led him through the living room and into the den. The room was filled with earthy colors, rich and warm. It was her favorite room in the house. Large, overstuffed furniture was grouped in the middle of the space to make for an intimate setting.
Lucilla indicated the sectional with a turn of her hand. “Have a seat and I’ll bring us some drinks.”
He released the button on his jacket and sat on the sofa. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. I like it.” She poured them both some brandy and carried it over to him.
She took a seat across from him, balancing her drink on her crossed legs. “Did something happen tonight to make you come over here and wait at the curb for me?” The words,
and kiss me
, echoed in her head, but she refrained from saying them.
He swirled the brandy around in the snifter. “I had a date with Maribon Seacrest.”
A hand clamped around Lucilla’s heart to squeeze. Wasn’t that what she was being paid for? She’d only done her job in setting them up.
“I see.” Her throat tried to close around the words. Even though it was obvious he hadn’t had a good time on the date, it was like a knife going through her gut.
“The night will not be repeated.”
“Oh, Jager.” She hid her smile behind her hand. “You really know how to charm the ladies, don’t you?”
He frowned. “What makes you think the failure of the date was my fault?”
“Your track record. You’ve found fault with them all.” Warming to the conversation, she shifted in her seat. “How do I know, if I go with you to the Legion Halloween Dance, you won’t say the same thing about me?”
“You
are
going with me to the dance. You’ve already agreed.”
“I
agreed
to it on the stipulation you went out with
both
of my clients. Now you’re here wanting to go back on your word.” Lucilla shook her head in mock pity. “I don’t know, sounds to me as if I may need to apologize to my other clients for sending them on dates with you.”
She watched his jaw tighten. He turned his head to avoid looking at her. “I’ve never gone back on my word.” When his gaze connected with hers again, his eyes were hot, intense. “I want you. I don’t want to wait.”
It’s not smart to piss off a poltergiest
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant
Ó
2008 Vivi Andrews
A
Tickle My Fantasy
story
It’s bad enough to be sexually frustrated. But as a medium, it means until Lucy Cartwright gets some, she’s doomed. Oh no, not to death. Worse. To nightly visitations by recently deceased, wanna-be Cassanovas without the bodies to back it up. Then a living, breathing fantasy arrives on her doorstep, and Lucy thinks her dry spell is at an end.
Much as he would like to be Lucy’s personal gigolo, PI Jake Cox has a job to do. He’s been sent to prevent her from getting laid until a particular horny phantom—and key witness in his mob investigation—pays her a visit. The real challenge? Keeping his own hands off Lucy long enough to get the job done.
Or the lonely, geeky ghost of a murdered mob accountant could rip a hole in the fabric of the universe…
Warning: This book contains cheesy pick-up lines, amateur stripteases, and voyeuristic intentions
—
all by dead men. And the living behave just as badly...
Enjoy the following excerpt from
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant
:
Lucy slipped past the eye-candy in her kitchen, set the timer and shoved the muffin tray into the oven. Then she heard him breathing.
He’s allowed to breathe, dammit
, she told her hormones, but they weren’t listening. They were already summoning up fantasies involving breathing. And panting. And gasping.
So Lucy gasped, and swore, as her hand brushed the hot oven rack. She snatched her hand out of the oven, mentally cursing her stupidity, and slammed the door closed.
“Did you burn yourself?” Jake demanded, stepping forward and immediately taking control.
He caught her wrist and held it up for inspection. Seeing the vivid red welt rising on the back her hand, he tugged her over to the sink and turned on the faucet with a single-minded economy of movement that was somehow indescribably hot.
Dear God, I’m doomed. Even his first aid is sexy.
He temperature-tested the tap with his own hand before thrusting her burn beneath the cool, running water. “Keep it there,” he ordered, already on his way to the freezer. He was back a moment later, a clean dishtowel wrapped around a bundle of ice. “Here, let me see.”
He gently took her wrist and drew her hand out of the water, cautiously inspecting the burn. His attention was so focused, so intent, as he brushed the soft skin around the burn with his fingertips, careful not to touch the wound itself. He bent and blew cool air on her hand before gently pressing the ice pack over it, his concentration complete. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if he would bring that focus and intensity to everything he did. A delicious shiver ran down her spine.
“I know it’s cold,” he said, and Lucy was relieved he didn’t suspect the real reason for her shivering—she was embarrassed enough already. “You need to keep it on there for twenty minutes or so.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Jake shook his head abruptly, rejecting her gratitude. “My fault. I shouldn’t have been distracting you while you were cooking.”
“You weren’t distracting me,” Lucy lied, knowing she was blushing. Again.
“No?” He arched his eyebrows skeptically then reached up to brush the back of one finger against her cheek. “You have flour all over your face.”
Lucy winced internally. Great. Now, not only was she as red as a turnip, she had the distinction of being a blotchy, flour-coated turnip with a propensity for burning herself. Oh yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her now.
She waited for him to laugh at her. She waited for him to turn away, writing her off as ridiculous. She waited…until he tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. Eyes that didn’t look mocking or superior, but rather curiously intent.
Oh my.
He brushed at the clinging flour on her cheeks, his calloused hands tentatively caressing. Lucy gazed up at him, trying to remember how to breathe, or think, or do anything other than stare at him with her heart in her throat and her stomach down around her toes. They were standing near the oven, but Lucy had a feeling the burning sensation rippling along her skin had more to do with the mountain of solid muscle in front of her than the oven behind. He smiled gently, his hands still cradling her face. “Even without the flour, you look pretty damn edible,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.
The world slowed and tightened until they were the only two people in it, and time was frozen in that thick moment when she
knew
he was about to kiss her. She stood paralyzed, hopeful, but not allowing herself to hope.
He bent toward her slowly, his gorgeous black eyes shuttered by thick black lashes. Lucy’s eyes fell closed and she held herself perfectly still, desperate, waiting. When his lips finally touched hers, it was like putting a spark to a fast-burning fuse. A fuse attached to a stick of dynamite.
Lucy dove recklessly into the kiss, arching against him shamelessly. The first tentative brush of his mouth instantly became an urgent, open-mouthed exchange. She wound her arms around his shoulders and he gripped her butt in both hands, lifting her to get a better angle on her mouth, a better angle of her body pressed against his.
As soon as her feet left the floor, Lucy looped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. Jake took two steps across the kitchen and pinned her against the refrigerator, the cool, smooth surface teasing her exposed shoulder blades where the spaghetti straps of her sundress left them bare. Lucy gave a little groan of pure, unadulterated lust, her hormones throwing an orgiastic party when Jake immediately echoed it.
Now,
this
is how a gigolo behaves.
Jake grabbed the knees squeezing his waist with both hands and shifted her slightly for better access. The combination of his fingers teasing the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees and the sudden, grinding friction of his jeans where she wanted it the most was nearly enough to send her off right there. Lucy let her head fall back against the refrigerator, her eyes closing in anticipation of bliss as she sent a little prayer of thanks to the gods of nookie.