by Sela Carsen
Debra’s home was on the edge of civilization. Only a few steps separated her from the swamp. The fight rolled into the wilderness and she followed.
There was a limit to what Debra could do, though, no matter how strong she was. She could only defend, never attack. Her entire being was hardwired to the most basic premise of witchcraft—“an’ it harm none”. Not even to protect those she loved could she destroy another being. But that didn’t mean she was doomed to cowardice.
The beast wanted her, did he? He didn’t even know what she was, and she could use that to her advantage.
Maddox rolled away from another strike, a little slow to rise. It gave the monster the moment he needed to draw his blade.
If she was going to save him, now was the time.
“Hey, you!” She whistled a piercing blast, jarring both of the fighters, who turned to look at her.
And her.
Identical twins, each on either side of their circle. One approached Maddox, the other sauntered toward the rogue. Each deliberately provocative. Feminine power bloomed through the night, giving off the heady scent of sex.
Here was the source of her power, here at the core of her being. She wasn’t merely female, she was Woman with all the strength it entailed. The eternal paradox, the unsolvable enigma.
Her arm reached out to trail delicate fingers over each male.
“What do you want?” she asked in stereo. “What’s your deepest desire?” Jasmine, heady, strong and dangerous, surrounded her, blooming where she stepped.
“I want you,” each answered, then they snarled at each other.
The beast continued, “I want your magic.”
“But you can only have one,” said the Debra who danced before him. “You must choose.”
She raised her hands to the moon, drinking in the light. Around her, black water shimmered. The monster growled, his long tongue snaking out to taste her scent in the air.
“Choose,” she chanted, continuing her dance around him, never touching him, never letting him close enough to touch her. She, the untouchable. The unknowable. The ultimate mystery.
“I want both.” His voice, inhuman, rose in a gravelly whine. “I can have whatever I want. You can’t stop me. You can’t hurt me. I am strong.”
Immediately, the dance stopped and all the scents and sounds of the forest died away. The Female knew her power and knew that she could not be owned and used by any man, no matter how strong. Her arms dropped to her sides as she looked at him sadly. “Yes, you are. Too bad you’re also stupid.” She whirled. “Now, Maddox!”
Maddox circled his Debra, keeping her close. He licked her hand and she knelt, looping her arms around his heat. “I know you,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve known you for centuries, descendant of Melion. Ages ago, you were my hero, my lover. As you are now.”
This wasn’t Debra. The woman beside him was not his Debra. “Where did she go? What have you done with her?” he whispered, trying to keep his focus on the enemy before him, the one who was dazed by the dance of a ghostly, sensual witch.
“She is I. I am she. Fear not, brave knight. Courage and cunning will win fair lady, not brute strength. She can do no harm, and so she baits him, waiting for you. Trusting you. Will you fail her?”
Maddox shook off the weakness that gnawed at him. His Debra danced with a monster, but it was up to him to kill it.
Her call galvanized him. The beast was off-guard, the silver blade held in a lax grip. Maddox streaked forward and the monster raised his hand to protect his throat from the killing blow that never came. Instead, Maddox struck at his midriff, tearing off the pelt of the murdered werewolf.
The creature howled in agony, dropping to the ground as the evil magic drained from his body. He writhed, screaming, as his bones shattered, reforming themselves to a human mold. His skull twisted in a grotesque maneuver, shrinking back to a recognizable face as the coarse fur receded into his skin.
A naked human lay exposed to the elements, small and insignificant in his all-too-mortal body.
Gary Corvell.
The man’s pale scent had been completely submerged to the beast. No wonder Maddox hadn’t been able to identify him.
He returned with the pelt, which he softly laid at his Debra’s feet. The other Debra knelt by Gary’s motionless form and touched his head. He stiffened and moaned in pain then his eyes fluttered open. He jumped up snarling, but it just didn’t have the same effect as when he was hairy and huge and disgusting.
Debra gasped and covered her eyes. Maddox snorted. The woman, the not-Debra, rose more sedately.
Gary crouched down, cupping himself while Debra’s body shook with repressed laughter.
“It’s not funny,” screamed the formerly dapper little man.
“Actually,” said the not-Debra, “it’s quite funny.” She raised her arms above her head and Gary cowered away. She raised an eyebrow at him—now he knew where Debra got that habit—and when her arms lowered, she wasn’t Debra’s twin anymore. Like enough to be sisters, but definitely different. The other woman was smaller, more compact, and her hair was darker.
“Why don’t you tell us how you became the beast, Mr. Corvell?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Gary tried a sneer, but it was like watching a pug snarl. Pointless. Maddox didn’t even put any heat into his answering growl and the mayor paled.
“Where did you get the pelt, Gary?” asked Debra.
“Where do you think I got it? From Ludlow.”
“Ludlow Corvell? But he’s been dead since 1872.”
“He’s still around. You should know.”
“How did he get the pelt?”
“I don’t know. From someone in his family, I suppose. I was up in the museum area one day and he showed me where to find it in a box.” Corvell shuddered at the memory. Maddox had seen the portrait of the old bastard. He’d shudder too.
“There was a book under the pelt with some old writing in it. I took it up to Duke to get it translated. It had the spell, so I tried it. I didn’t think it would really work. But then it did. And it felt good to be big and powerful and scary.”
“How did you find out about the Book? About me?” Debra inched closer to Maddox and buried her cold fingers in his fur.
“You have no idea, do you?” Corvell was starting to sound a little cocky, so Maddox growled again. “You reek of magic. It was weaker when you first came to town, but in the last few days, it’s gotten stronger and stronger. There’s no way not to know what you are. Controlling you would have meant controlling your power. I would have had all the knowledge in the Book for myself.”
Debra looked at the other woman. “What do we do now? How can I protect the Book when he knows what I am?”
Maddox Changed and Debra’s small, cold fingers reached out for his. The other one smiled at her.
“Do not worry, my child. It has been far too long since your mothers embraced what I am, what I could have given them. Haven’t you figured out who I am yet?”
Yeah, he knew, and she scared the ever-living crap out of him. It was never safe for any male to stand too close to all that female power.
But his Debra stepped forward, fearless and brave. “I know you. You’re Morgaine. My Mother. My Sister.”
“The author of the Book that resides in your spirit. My magic, all my knowledge, lies with you. The magic we wield is older than any belief system. It comes from the earth, from the sky, from the water, from the fire. To take a memory is not a task undertaken lightly, but justice must be served.”
She raised her hands to the moon again, but when her sleeves fell back, Maddox could see that her arms were covered in tattoos. Sigils. Wards.
Light grew between her hands and became a solid shape, a dark grid. When she lowered her arms, she held a cage inscribed with some of the same symbols she wore on her skin. Morgaine picked up the soiled and sad pelt, stroked it lovingly, and folded it into the cage.
She held her hand out
to Debra and together they waded into the swamp, wet to their knees, and lowered the cage into the black water. The words Morgaine spoke rolled off her tongue, danced in his ears, flashed rainbows and lightning in his eyes. As the remains of the werewolf were swallowed, Debra joined in.
“Fire cleanses, fire purifies. Let the fire burn away the evil brought to use these many years ago. Let it burn away the memory of pain and power, of greed and death.”
Green flickering light—what he had always called swamp fire—danced and flitted in the palm of her hand. Debra laid the fire down where the cursed fur had sunk.
“As the fire dies out, so does the remembrance of these evil deeds.”
The ladies held hands again as they walked back to the shore and stood next to Maddox, watching the flames spark into nothingness.
Gary Corvell lay unconscious in the mud. At least he was still breathing, which was awfully damn generous as far as Maddox was concerned.
“He has forgotten what he has done. I doubt others will be so forgiving now that he no longer possesses the glamour of the wolf’s power. The wolf who was murdered so long ago can now rest easy,” said Morgaine.
Debra ignored the pale body on the ground and looked at Maddox, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Maddox. I couldn’t tell you. I’m charged not to tell any man. The women in my family have carried this knowledge for generations, but somewhere along the way, we forgot how to apply it in our own lives. The magic weakened. I knew about it, but I couldn’t tap into it. Until I met you. Maybe it was your own magic that woke mine up. Or maybe it’s because with you, I can be everything I’m supposed to be.”
The great witch smiled. “As it should be. A woman’s power is no small thing, but too many have made it so. We are meant to balance each other, not relinquish our will to that of another in the hope of gaining love. You would have found your power without him, daughter, but your magic will be all the greater for the love you share.”
Morgaine turned to him and he stood his ground. “And you, Maddox. Son of my great love. Melion would be proud of you.” She took his hand and Debra’s. “You are not the ones who will wield the Book. Instead, you are the ones who will hold the circle around her. Your daughter.”
Debra gasped, but Maddox just smiled. He’d known it the whole time. Debra was the one for him, the one he’d waited for.
Morgaine stepped back, leaving them holding each other. “Blessed be, Debra and Maddox. I’ll see you again. In the meantime…” She glanced down at Maddox’s naked body. The smile this time was all about feminine desire. “In the meantime, Debra, have some fun.”
Two hours later, Twister started pawing at the back door, whining to be let in. She pulled a robe on over her well-satisfied body and let him bound into the house.
As she did, she saw a pale form scurrying along the edge of the treeline. She pushed her glasses further up on her nose and squinted. “Huh. There goes Mayor Corvell.”
Maddox came up behind her, a towel wrapped around his waist. He slid an arm around her and planted a kiss on her neck.
“It’s a good thing that man usually wears clothes, because he’s pretty scrawny,” she said, leaning back into his arms. “You think he’ll be okay?”
Maddox shrugged and swallowed the bite of cold pizza he was eating. “Like I give a rat’s ass. He’ll be fine, but I bet he won’t be mayor too much longer.”
“Oh, good. I can get my library funding.” She closed the door.
He dropped his towel, and then reached for the tie of her robe. “Yep. And you can fill it with books where wolves howl at the moon and everyone lives happily ever after.”
She shrieked with laughter and ran to the bedroom. He howled and ran after her.
About the Author
To learn more about Sela Carsen, please visit www.selacarsen.com and check out her blog. You can also find her blogging regularly at Beyond the Veil—a group blog of paranormal romance authors at paranormalauthors.blogspot.com. Send an email to Sela at [email protected]. She’ll be thrilled to hear from you!
Look for these titles by Sela Carsen
Now Available:
Not Quite Dead
Heart of the Sea
Tickle My Fantasy Anthology
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant by Vivi Andrews
Witches Anonymous by Misty Evans
ParaMatch.com by MK Mancos
Can a bad witch go good in thirteen steps? Not if Lucifer has his way with her!
Witches Anonymous
Ó2009 Misty Evans
A Tickle My Fantasy story.
Amy Atwood is a witch. Not the harm-none kind…the Satan-worshipping, devil-made-me-do-it kind. But after catching Lucifer in a particularly wicked hex act with her goodie-two-shoes Wiccan sister, Amy does what every self-respecting witch would do. She pops a Dove chocolate in her mouth, ends her affair with the devil, and swears an oath never to use magic again.
She wants to be normal. Human. Even if it means no more fun—and she’s looking for a nice, normal guy to complement her new lifestyle. And ice-cream-loving firefighter Adam Foster looks like perfect hero material.
Lucifer, however, isn’t about to be nice about letting her go. Stalked by Satan, manipulated by the angel Gabriel—and surprised by Adam’s true identity—Amy finds herself up to her black hat in trouble of Biblical proportions…
Warning: Welcome to temptation. Sexy Lucifer is going to enchant you. The original Adam is going to charm you. And the angel Gabriel is going to scare your socks off!
Enjoy the following excerpt from Witches Anonymous:
I woke from dreaming about Adam in his fire suit to the feel of a hot body next to mine. A body too big to be one of my cats, and much too hard. And then there was the hand cupping my breast through my Snoopy sleep shirt.
Frantically, I tried to clear the cobwebs out of my brain and get my bearings. Had Adam accepted my offer last night? Had we enjoyed more than a scoop of ice cream?
An image of him waving goodbye to me from his truck surfaced, and with it, a chill spread down my spine. With sudden clarity I knew who was sleeping in my bed. I jerked away from Lucifer, tumbling to the floor in my haste.
I have only one vice in life—lust. I lust for sinful men, dark chocolate and designer shoes. For ten years, Lucifer satisfied all my desires and then satisfied them some more.
The embodiment of lust, he made me choose bad over good, dark over light, hell over heaven. I simply couldn’t resist his wicked ways. Until he slept with Emilia, that is. Just thinking about him touching her, kissing her, the same way he’d touched and kissed me made me shake with disgust. Betrayal was one thing. Betrayal with my sister…well, that was more hell than I bargained for.
He rose up and peered at me over the side of the bed, his hair mussed and his eyes full of enchanting lust. “Good morning, Amy. Dream of me?”
Since I no longer had protection spells keeping my apartment off limits to demons and other magical creatures, it was no surprise Luc had wandered in.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted at him, even though I knew exactly what the hell he was doing. He’d been seducing me for years. I was familiar with his guerilla sex tactics.
He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, blue-black hair, mussing it into an even sexier look. “Thought you might be lonely since your boyfriend left you high and dry.”
“He did not…” I broke off, knowing it was useless to explain anything to him. Pushing myself off the floor, I grabbed my robe and shoved my arms into the sleeves, pulling the belt tight. “Get out.”
Luc threw the covers back and walked buck naked across the floor toward me. “I made your favorite breakfast.”
On cue, the tantalizing smell of French toast wafted by me. Breakfast. Adam was picking me up for breakfast.
I glanced at the clock. The blue numbers read seven-forty. Crap. I had twenty minutes to shower, make up my face and do my hair, not to mention kick a nake
d man out of my apartment. A naked, supernatural demon-man.
Who was not so surprisingly well endowed.
Taking a deep breath, I racked my brain for a non-supernatural way to take care of him and me. “I’m getting in the shower. When I get out, in like two minutes, you’d better be gone. Understand?”
He scratched the stubble on his chin. His eyes glowed with lust. “I could scrub your back. Massage your scalp while I wash it with that new herbal shampoo you just bought.”
How did he know about my new shampoo? Obviously he’d been snooping while I wasn’t home. “You have to leave. Now.”
“How about a pedicure? Or a bubble bath instead of a shower? Remember the bubbles I produced for you last time?” He advanced on me with each suggestion and I shook my head as I stepped backwards. The heat pouring off him made me want to shed my robe and the thought of those crazy, pheromone-laced bubbles made sweat trickle between my breasts.
Sticking my hand out to stop his advances, I hit his sculpted chest. Energy zigzagged through my fingers and up my arm. “Stop it.”
But he didn’t stop. He pried my hand off his chest and kissed the tips of my fingers. Panicking, I jerked my hand away and ran for the bathroom. Throwing the door shut and twisting the lock, I leaned against the solid wood door and prayed. Uh, God? Are you there? Your old arch enemy is at it again. I could some help here, your Godship. A little strength to resist the Devil?
“Amy,” Luc murmured to me through the door. “Come back to bed. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
I shook my head adamantly, even though he couldn’t see me. “No.”
The door warmed under my hands. “I brought your favorite boysenberry syrup.”
Oh, curses. Every cell in my body tingled. Boysenberry syrup and the Devil. What woman could resist such temptation? Come on, God. Cut me some slack here.
“There’s fresh whipped cream.” His sexy smooth voice singsonged through the door. “You know what I want to do with that.”