Witch Way to Love Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Jessica Coulter Smith

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-901-1

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Brieanna Robertson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I would like to thank my husband for always believing in me. Without his love and support, the stories I create would not be possible.

  WITCH WAY TO LOVE

  Love Spell, 1

  Jessica Coulter Smith

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Lightning skittered across the sky, the brilliant flashes lighting up everything around her. Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the earth beneath her feet. The high-powered winds whipped her long, red hair around her head and made her fight for purchase on the pavement. It was a bad night out, for witches and mortals alike. If only she hadn’t lost her damn wand! What was a witch without her wand? Damn near mortal, that’s what. The heavens were going to open up at any moment and she would be drenched. Taking a witch’s wand was as good as stealing her powers. No, she didn’t need the wand to create magick, but if it wasn’t in her possession, her powers sort of…fizzled and died out.

  Her high-heeled sandals were a poor choice of footwear at the moment, as she tottered down the sidewalk, following the beacon of light in the distance. She’d cast a locator spell in hopes of finding her wayward wand. She wasn’t certain if it had been appropriated by someone, or had merely wandered off, kind of like her broom had done the month before. Anyone who thought a wand was an inanimate object was a fool. It had a life force of its own. Otherwise, it would just be a piece of wood with pretty carvings.

  The beam of light shooting into the sky started to flicker, and she worried it would sputter out completely. She could tell it was in the area the residents of Mayfair Heights called “the jungle.” Only shape-shifters lived in that part of town. Despite the ominous clouds in the sky, she knew there was a full moon tonight. She just had to hope whoever had taken the wand, or the lucky person her wand had chosen as its guardian, was in residence. It would be just her luck that the furball would be out on a run, even if the weather did leave a lot to be desired.

  With the wind buffeting her small body, she felt like she was fighting an uphill battle, and wondered if she’d ever reach her destination. If her powers weren’t on the fritz, she could just translocate to wherever she needed to go. But, of course, on the worst night they’d had in months, she was stuck traveling on foot. She couldn’t even use her broom until she was at full power again. The damn thing refused to work. She completely blamed the tree sprite, the one who had gifted her with the branch used to carve the broom handle. It had obviously imbued some of its stubbornness into her broom.

  Breena rounded another corner and sighed in relief. The home she sought was half a block away and lit up like the fourth of July, thanks to her little spell. She thanked the goddess that it had worked so well, or at all, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine having to find her wand the old-fashioned way, or having to hire someone else to cast the spell for her. How embarrassing! It was bad enough that things like this kept happening to her, but if the spell-casters guild caught wind of it, they’d pull her license to practice for sure.

  As she neared the home, she took in the little details, like the gargoyles standing guard at the edges of the roof. She had no doubt they were the real thing and gave them a little wave. The red door stood out in stark contrast against the gray and black home, beckoning her closer. She stepped under the portico just as the rain began to beat down, a deluge really, and she thanked the goddess she hadn’t been standing out in the open just then.

  She lifted her fist and knocked on the door, listening for any sounds of life within. No answer. She banged again, this time a little harder. The light from her spell spluttered and blinked out, leaving her standing in the dark. The fact that there were no lights on in the home, nor on the porch, told her that her query was probably out running wild, but she refused to give up.

  Breena’s tiny fist pounded on the door for the third time. Grumbling under her breath, she gave the wood a good, hard kick, wincing as her toes met the unforgiving surface. She had just turned, and was about to leave, when the door flew open.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?” growled a deep voice, a voice that zinged through her and made all of her lady parts take notice.

  She spun around with a snappy retort on the tip of her tongue, but it died the moment she was faced with six-foot-six of yummy goodness. A button-down shirt hung open, leaving his scrumptious muscular chest in full view. Her gaze dipped down over six pack abs and she licked her lips, wanting to run her tongue over each and every inch of him.

  “I’m, uh, looking for my wand,” she stuttered lamely, her brain having been fried by his hotness.

  He smirked. “Oh, I have a wand for you all right, but I don’t think it’s the one you came looking for.”

  Her gaze jerked back up to meet his. “Don’t tease. It’s a full moon. We both know you aren’t going to do anything, not tonight anyway.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “So you know what I am. Or at least you think you do. What you don’t know is that I’m not your average wolf.”

  She licked her lips.

  “Which means,” he continued, “that I wasn’t teasing. A helpless little thing like you wouldn’t stand a chance against the big, bad wolf. What’s a witch without her wand?”

  Breena moved forward until she stood toe-to-toe with him. “So what are you waiting for? A written invitation? My quill is in my other dress.”

  She grasped his shirt and jerked him toward her, planting her lips on his. No small feat seeing as how he towered over her by a foot. She felt his arms wrap around her and she melted against him, her plush curves pressing against all of those taut muscles. It definitely gave a girl ideas—of the naughty variety.

  He pulled back and chuckled. Her lips bowed down in a frown. Just what did he find so funny? Here she was, all but throwing herself at him—okay, so she had thrown herself at him—and he had the audacity to laugh? If she had her wand, she’d put cockleburs in his kibble. That would teach him to play with a witch’s affections.

  “As delightful as this is, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said.

  “Leave? But… my wand!”

  “Is not here.” His tone brooked no argument, but she knew her wand was inside. Her spell wouldn’t have led her astray. Just because he didn’t know it was there didn’t mean it wasn’t in his home somewhere. It could be hiding, even in plain sight.

  “If you’d just let me in for a minute, I’m sure I could find it and be out of—”

  “No.”

  Before she could protest further, he slammed the door in her face. Her hands fisted at her sides as she stomped her foot in frustration. Of all the… She’d teach him a lesson if it was the last thing she did! The least he could have done was let her ride out the storm in his house, or have given her an umbrella.

  She was about to pound on the door again, demand that he let her in, when she saw something gray flying out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she caught sight of one of the gargoyles. He didn’t look very pleased with her.

  “The mas
ter said to leave him alone,” the little stone creature said. “You’d best leave before you anger him.”

  “What’s the worst he can do? Bite me? Scratch me? Hump my leg?” She snorted. “I’m not afraid of a stinkin’ werewolf.”

  The gargoyle grinned, showing very sharp, pointed teeth. “Master is more than he seems. You would be wise not to anger him.”

  More than he seemed? How could a werewolf be more than he seemed? She knew he wasn’t the alpha. Everyone in town knew the alpha was one very yummy Micah Smythe. With his dark hair and hazel eyes, all he had to do was crook his lips up in a smile and women would drop their panties left and right. The man was sin personified, and very much a player. He was every woman’s fantasy, but Breena knew better than to get involved with him. It would only end in heartbreak, even if he could give her a wild ride.

  No, the man on the other side of the door was definitely not the alpha. This man had hair as black as the stormy night sky and eyes a piercing blue. When the lightning had flashed behind her, it had lit up his eyes, giving him an ethereal look. He may look like a fallen angel, but she wasn’t fooled. There was not a damn thing angelic about the man. Maybe he was only half werewolf and half spawn of Satan. That would certainly fit with his prickly attitude. So what if his kisses could make her knees weak, her heart race, and make her temporarily forget her name or why she was there?

  “I want my damn wand,” she growled. “Move your ass before I blast you. I doubt you’ll be so smart as a pile of rubble.”

  He flicked his long, pointed tail. “That would be an empty threat, witch! You couldn’t blast a cotton ball right now, much less my magnificent self.”

  She rolled her eyes. That was one thing she detested about dealing with gargoyles—their overinflated egos. Just because they were chosen to guard over those of a paranormal nature, they thought they were hot stuff. Witches had no use for them. Her home was so well warded no one was getting in without express permission. Hell, she wasn’t even sure they could find her house if she didn’t give them directions and consent to enter.

  “Whatever.” She huffed. “Are you going to help me or not? I need that wand and I need it now. My spell wouldn’t have led me here if it wasn’t inside.”

  “So call it.” The gargoyle shrugged. “I’m sure Master will open the door once he sees a wand flying around his house. Assuming he didn’t go back to bed. He’s had a rather taxing day today.”

  Doing what? Trimming his claws? Chasing his tail? Oh, oh! Maybe he had a rousing game of fetch with some of his packmates! That must be what made him so exhausted. What the hell could have been so important that it kept a werewolf busy on the day of a full moon? They usually rested so they would have plenty of energy to run around all night, basking in the goddess’s love and light. All right, so there wasn’t a moon you could actually see tonight, but it was still there. They’d still feel the pull of it. Even Breena could feel its power, and she wasn’t tied to the lunar cycle.

  Call her wand, huh? The idea had promise, assuming the damn thing didn’t ignore her. It could be so finicky.

  “Sauren! Come to me!”

  The gargoyle snickered. “You named it Sauren?”

  She folded her arms under her breasts. “No, that’s what it told me its name was. If you have a problem with it, take it up with my wand. Just don’t blame me if you end up with dainty pink butterfly wings.”

  The gargoyle scowled and flew back another foot.

  There was a curse on the other side of the door and a crash. She smiled to herself, as she pictured the wolf stumbling around trying to catch her wand, better yet, dodging it. It wouldn’t be the first time the blasted thing chased someone around the house…namely, her. She knocked on the door again, her knuckles rapping on the wood sharply.

  There was another loud crash, some clanging, more curses, and finally, the door opened.

  The wolf’s hair stood on end, and his eyes flashed with anger. Cheeks flushed with anger, he bared his teeth at her. “Would you get that demented thing out of my house?” he snapped.

  She arched a brow and tapped her foot. “Would that be the wand that you clearly stated you did not have in your home?”

  “Yes,” he all but growled. “It’s destroying my house.”

  Another crash sounded behind him and she winced. She didn’t know how many breakables he’d had before Sauren woke and began wreaking havoc, but there were considerably less now.

  “Am I allowed inside?” she asked.

  His brows lowered, eyes narrowed. Nostrils flared as if he took in her scent. She thought he was going to stand like that forever, just glaring at her, but another bang from inside his home seemed to make up his mind rather quickly.

  “Fine. Get the damn thing out of here.”

  She smirked, she just couldn’t help it, then stepped past him and into the house. She had to twist sideways to get past him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her nipples, traitorous things that they were, responded immediately to being in such close proximity to his hunky manliness. Damn it. How could she still want him? He was an absolute asshole, the complete opposite of the type she usually went for. Apparently, her body didn’t get the message, because one whiff of his unique, spicy scent had her pussy clenching with need.

  Breena forced herself to keep moving and to not rub herself against him like a cat in heat. She’d barely cleared the door before she had to duck, her wand flying straight for her head. It seemed Sauren wasn’t overly thrilled with her visit. How she was supposed to coax it home with her, she didn’t know, but one look at the grumpy wolf told her she’d better figure it out fast.

  She looked around and took in the chaos that had probably once been a rather tidy home. Two potted plants lay on their sides, their pots broken with soil spilling across the hardwood floors. Two pictures lay face down, broken glass peeking out from the edges of the frames. What had once been a coffee mug, with what looked like coffee in it, was now shattered near the coffee table, the brown liquid spreading rapidly. More glass shards littered the floor in the doorway of the kitchen, the pieces looking like an unfinished mosaic.

  The wand zoomed over their heads, pausing only long enough to rap the wolf on the top of his skull, then it darted off again, looking for more mischief, she was certain. The wolf scowled at her, his thunderous look saying more than any words could, and she was sure he had more than a few choice ones for her. In fact, she was pretty sure she could hear his teeth grinding even from a few feet away. Well, that couldn’t be good for his chompers.

  She cleared her throat and lifted her chin a notch. “Sauren, come here.”

  The wand twirled through the air, circling her like a buzzard, before whacking her on top of her head and darting back into the kitchen. The smash of porcelain on tile couldn’t be mistaken, and she wondered if the wolf was going to bill her for a new set of dishes before the night was over. Her wand was causing considerable damage, but in her own defense, she hadn’t sent it to him. Sauren had merely sought the wolf out, to what purpose she didn’t understand. It had never been partial to the furry before.

  “Sauren, I command you to come here at once!”

  The wand zoomed back in from the kitchen, circled her, then hovered in front of her face. When it began glowing, the light getting brighter and brighter, she realized she’d pissed it off. Almost too late, she dove for the wolf, knocking him to the floor. A split second later, there was a loud crack. A sizzle of electricity filled the air, making their hair stand on end. And then came the downpour. Her treacherous wand had made it rain—in the house.

  She glanced down at the wolf lying under her and swallowed hard. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes narrowed and spitting fire. His nostrils flared in anger, and his lips were mashed into a thin line. If he’d been a cartoon, steam would have been pouring out of his ears. She wasn’t entirely convinced she didn’t see a wisp or two.

  “If you don’t get that damn wand out of my house,” he growled in a soft voice, “I�
��m going to turn it into kindling.”

  Sauren must have heard the threat because it darted in close to Breena and dropped neatly onto the ground beside her hand. She jerked her gaze from the arresting eyes of the wolf and looked down at the wand, disbelieving. One growled threat and there it lay, docile as a lamb. Maybe the wolf was of more use than she thought.

  She wrapped her fingers around the carved wood and lifted Sauren off the floor. Picking herself up, she dusted off the skirt of her dress and cleared her throat.

  “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you… Um, I don’t believe you ever told me your name.”

  “No,” he rumbled, climbing to his feet. “I didn’t.”

  She lifted her brows and looked at him expectantly, waiting for his response, but none was forthcoming. With a sigh, she turned toward the door. If he didn’t want to be polite and at least extend her the courtesy of giving her his name, why should she bother to stick around and clean up?

  “That’s it?” he demanded. “That demented wand of yours gets into my home, breaks half my stuff, makes it rain in the house, and you’re just going to leave?”

  “You don’t seem very hospitable. I figured our presence wasn’t wanted, or needed.”

  He eyed her a moment, his gaze far too knowing, too assessing as he studied her curves. There was a flicker of heat in their depths and she wondered if he was just as affected by her as she was by him. The hardness of his body, particularly in one area, hadn’t escaped her notice while she’d been sprawled across him in her feeble attempt at protecting him. Before she could continue that line of thought, she really needed to do something about the rain.

  Muttering an incantation under her breath, she swirled Sauren through the hair, her grip on the wand tight so it wouldn’t escape. The rain slowed, then stopped all together, leaving everything soaked. Breena hoped his floors wouldn’t warp from getting so wet. She supposed she could cast a spell to dry everything, but she wasn’t entirely certain her help would be appreciated. He still seemed a little perturbed with her, or rather, with her wand.