Passion of a Witch

by K. D. Friedrich

  “Who?”

  Summer closed her eyes. “Malcolm Campbell.”

  “But he's a jerk.”

  Amusement at her sister's crude, yet accurate assessment made Summer chuckle. “Yes, he is arrogant, as most males are, but he is powerful and will breed powerful children, which is the main purpose of the promising.”

  Love matches were rare among her kind. Centuries ago, when witches were many, they waited to find true love, but waiting on such fairy tales proved devastating over time. The rare occurrence created a sharp decline in their numbers, forcing a female's fate into the hands of her parents.

  “Well, he is very… hot.”

  Summer giggled. “He is a fine catch. Many other women in our coven have put forward an offer of marriage to his parents. No doubt, his deep blue eyes have cast many spells over the coven's most desired women.”

  Giggles shot past Winter's lips. “And he is muscular. Very strong too. I heard he could lift an entire cast iron cauldron with a single hand. Those things are super heavy.”

  Summer laughed. “Where do you hear such ridiculous things?”

  “I heard it from my friend Storm at the last coven meeting. She and her sister have had a crush on him for ages.”

  Chapter 6

  Kian listened to the sisters giggle from outside the broken window. He may have only caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but he heard enough to understand that Summer would be married off to some douchebag named Malcolm.

  He shook his head. An arranged marriage… in this day and age? His paint brush stopped mid-stroke. Jesus, being around Summer and Winter was like jumping through a freaking time warp.

  Summer was a live wire, a woman filled with life and, from the heat burning in her eyes, passion. In some ways, Summer reminded him of his mom. The fates created them both with an unrelenting need for freedom and independence from restrictions. A forced marriage would destroy Summer long before it tamed her. He knew this because he watched his father try to twist his mother into a shell of her former self for years.

  The possibility of someone snuffing out Summer's fire made a painful knot tighten in his gut.

  Why? He had no idea.

  The need to protect this virtual stranger shocked him. He counted on two things in life, his mother and himself. Women came and went. A top supporter of the hit-it-and-quit-it lifestyle, his motto remained clear. Take a woman's body, but leave your emotions at the door. He hadn't spent more than a few days in the same woman's company since he plunged into his first pussy years ago.

  Those women didn't care. Most were only after him for two things anyway, wealth and power. Being the son of one of the richest, most influential businessman in the country attracted all kinds of gold-digging bitches.

  So why the hell did he desire more than Summer's sweet body? Why did he want her trust, her respect, and her undying affection? What made her different than all the others?

  She was nothing more than a means to an end, but dammit, she didn't deserve to be handed off like a prized mare at an auction.

  How dare her parents cage her passion with a loveless marriage?

  He shoved the brush in the paint, lifted it, and slapped the wet bristles on the shingles. He had to thrust her from his mind. His mission was to get information, not get laid. He peeked in past the open window and caught her smiling at her sister. Her lips lifted a tad higher on one side. They were full and plump—a mouth made to bite and suck. He swore under his breath as an image popped into his head: Summer against one of those damn bookcases, her hands above her head, her mouth parted, waiting for his tongue to taste and tease.

  He wiped his hand over his face. Man, he must need a woman. It had been a while. With his mom getting sick and his frequent visits to the hospital, he hadn't had much time to socialize. Yesterday's mayhem was the first time he’d been out in weeks.

  “Kian.”

  The sudden sound of his name made him jump. He scanned the yard, but saw no one. Lack of sex must have fried his brain. After one last inspection of the forest's shadows, he returned to his task.

  No sooner than the bristles touched the shingle, he heard it again, louder and more urgent.

  “Kian.”

  His eyes narrowed. What kind of game were these two girls playing? He glared through the window to find Summer and her sister chatting, oblivious to the freakiness going on out on the porch.

  Laughter echoed from behind him. A hand brushed over his shoulder. He stumbled back to find no one behind him. Hairs stood straight out on the back his neck. “What the fuck?” he whispered. Goose bumps formed across his body.

  “Come to the grove.”

  The hypnotic, beautiful voice reminded him of the melodic jingle of wind chimes on a peaceful sunny day. Something stirred inside him. A sudden burst of energy gave him the courage to follow the soft, sweet command carried on the breeze.

  Placing the brush on top of the paint can, he crept around the other side of the house and peeked past the corner at the backyard. A gentle breeze stroked his face as he scanned the entire wall of woodlands.

  Am I losing my damn mind?

  “No,” the voice said with amusement. He heard it as clear as if they stood beside him.

  He took each porch step with caution. Silence greeted him at the bottom. Not even a bird chirped. Weird, the scent of wildflowers grew stronger, yet there was no longer a breeze to carry it.

  Time seemed to stop the second his foot touched the soft lawn. He scanned the thick wall of trees before him. Shadows danced between the towering trunks. Maybe Summer and her sister were messing with him. After what his friend did last night, they might want a little revenge.

  Unable to resist, he marched across the lush field of grass, stopping in the center. Sunlight bathed his bare flesh, draining the stress from his body and replacing the tension with warmth. He focused, piercing his gaze deeper into the undergrowth.

  Nothing.

  No one.

  Frustrated, he groaned and turned back. Out of nowhere, a huge crow dive-bombed. Its talons missed his head by an inch.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  He ducked fast, lost his balance, and fell to one knee. Forcing his heart back down his throat with a hard swallow, he watched the flying rat disappear into the shade of the woodland. Man, he wished he still had the pellet gun he got in fifth grade. He'd love to shoot the black-feathered demon right in his black-feathered ass. A gust of wind hit his face like a playful smack. He swore he heard laughter.

  He stood and brushed off his jeans with a couple of mumbled curses before glancing up to discover a hole in the thick brush he hadn't noticed earlier. The natural archway rose eight feet high, revealing a pathway. Light speared through the trees, creating streaks of bright white beams. Wind swirled past him, attacking the leaves edging the path and making them bow and jerk, beckoning him to follow. Curiosity got the better of him and he advanced onto the wood-planked trail. He kept himself alert, prepared to karate chop anything with feathers.

  The long, thick branches adorned in emerald-colored leaves arched over the path, snuffing out most of the sun's rays. Slivers of light pierced the dense foliage, yet the vibrant assorted shades of green and amber added illumination and life to the woods. Soft moss trailed the enormous tree trunks, rising from each side of the trail. He sucked in the fresh air, filling his lungs with the scent of damp leaves, moist wood, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle.

  A vision of his mother's smile lit his memories. He imagined her pruning and caring for the garden she took so much pride in before her illness crushed her joy. He clenched his fist at the bittersweet memory.

  A crow squawked and he ducked. He laughed at his paranoia when he saw nothing ready to take him out. A persistent breeze pressed him further into the woods. He bent underneath the low-lying vines, tripping over a series of warped planks where roots had pushed out the wood. The walkway ended and a series of stone steps led him into a clearing. When he lifted his gaze, he found heaven on eart
h.

  Rows of purple, red, and white flowers lined the grounds. Scents, sweet and succulent, exploded over his senses, saturating his lungs while filling him with a strange charge. Thick trees edged the perimeter like soldiers guarding their master's kingdom. Off to the side, he noticed tranquil water peeking out from behind a series of large boulders. The trickling water promised a waterfall somewhere nearby.

  He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky, soaking in the rays of golden sun warming his face. God, unbelievable strength filled him. He grew harder than a teen sporting wood at a cheerleading camp.

  “What are you doing?”

  His eyes sprang open, and he spun. An electric charge surged through his veins at the sound of her voice. He was starved for a taste of her.

  “Summer,” he growled.

  He lunged, driven by instinct. Staying away from her wasn't an option, not when each step closer felt so damn right.

  The possibility of losing control disturbed him. He thrived on keeping his emotions in check. Right now, his well-honed demeanor threatened to shatter, releasing a feral, sexually charged beast that wanted to take her, throw her on top of those pretty little flowers, and drive deep into her wet heat, drilling himself into her until his name exploded from her lips and his touch branded her. Possessed her body and soul.

  A domineering streak shot straight through him and shook him to the core, demanding her. This woman belonged to him. He alone would have her, and he'd take out anyone who stood in his way.

  Dark visions hammered at his control.

  Something wasn't right. The intense desire scared him. Fear dropped a wall in front of him, stopping him seconds before he captured her.

  He stood as still as stone, his will iron-strong considering the hot adrenaline racing through him and the supercharged lust filling the front of his jeans.

  She stumbled back, putting space between them. Fear crept in her gaze for only a moment before morphing into a stubborn scowl. “I said, what are you doing here, Kian?” Her anger threw fuel on his already hot lust.

  “Don't look at me like I'm crazy. I heard someone call me.”

  “You did?”

  She sounded surprised. Not in a “this guy's crazy” way. More like, “wow, he heard that too.”

  “I'm sure it was the wind playing through the trees. Nothing more.” She waved off his confession, but the fear in her eyes told him what he heard was more than a playful breeze.

  “No, it wasn't the damn wind.” He noticed a small building off to the side. Overrun with vines and topped with a thatched roof, it belonged in a scene of Lord of the Rings, not the Pennsylvania wilderness. Any minute, he expected a hobbit to stroll out the front door.

  “What's in the shed over there?” He didn't wait for an answer. He marched toward the tiny building.

  The other side of the lake peeked out from behind the minute structure. Lily pads floated without a care. On the other side, a pyramid of stones burned with a bright orange glow. Burned into the door of the odd hut, he found a pentagram.

  What the hell are these people in to?

  She took a defensive stance in front of the path, moving faster than any person he had ever met. “Are you not familiar with the term boundaries?”

  “I heard someone, dammit. Maybe they're in this shed.” He tried to push past her, his need to enter the building a compulsion.

  “It is not a shed.”

  She blocked him again and this time pushed at his chest. A sharp, electric charge shot through his body. The jolt was erotic and exciting and aroused his lust quicker than any aphrodisiac known to man.

  He closed his hands around her wrists, the need to touch her undeniable.

  Her lips tempted him. Her tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip, and he almost caved. Never had he wanted to kiss a woman more than at this moment.

  “Please, it's a prayer house. Nothing more.” Her tone grew desperate.

  “A prayer house? You expect me to believe that?” Terror filled her wide gaze and he hated being the cause.

  “We use it for meditation and appeals to our deity. Nothing more.”

  “Why are you so scared?” Even with lust surging through his veins, the need to show her gentleness overcame him. His hands lifted to her face and cupped her cheeks. The pads of his thumbs stroked the softness of her skin.

  She sighed and leaned into his palm. “I'm not,” she whispered as her eyes closed. “I fear nothing.”

  He smiled. “Then why are you trembling?” As he drew a line over her bottom lip, her tongue darted out to taste the tip of his thumb. His cock jerked at the contact.

  He was a bastard to find satisfaction in her reaction, but her heated response made his chest expand and a smug grin tug at his lips. He drew her closer. Her sexy gasp assured Kian she wasn't immune to his presence.

  Amazed at his reaction to her, he gazed into her eyes. How did the mere brush of a woman's skin possess so much power over him?

  At this moment, he'd do whatever she asked just to keep himself connected to her. To move his hand lower, he'd fall to his knees and crawl across hell.

  The temptation made him ache. It made him want things he had no right to desire. He didn't do relationships. Oh, he made sure a woman found pleasure, but no matter how far she dug, she'd find nothing more. He never whispered sweet words or shouted promises of forever. Summer deserved more, but the truth did little to stop the intense drive clawing at his insides to lay her delectable body on the moist grass and fuck her until the only sound to leave her lips was his name.

  Given the chance, he knew what he'd do first. He'd slide his palm between her full breasts, along the contours of her rounded belly, and lower still until his fingers brushed her hot, wet pussy.

  “No!” She slipped free of his grasp. He let her go. “We can't. I… you… you need to leave.”

  Walk away? Not a damn chance.

  A drop of perspiration disappeared behind her low collar, drawing his attention to the sheen forming across her chest. He bet her sweet pussy wept for him, drenched with need and soaked in the delectable scent of her sexy, feminine desire. He licked his lips, almost tasting her there. He swallowed back the lump now formed in his dry throat, eager for her sweet nectar to satisfy his hunger. His gaze lifted to find her perfect mouth parted, inviting him, offering him an undeniable dare.

  He resisted.

  “I just got here. Let me at least finish what I was doing?”

  “No, I know what you planned on doing. Your little seduction won't work.” She hasn't even seen my form of seduction. “It's better if you go, and since you chose not to respect our privacy, don't bother returning.”

  His fists clenched at his sides. “I have to order the window panes anyway, but I'll be back tomorrow. I said I'd repair the damage, and I always do what I say. I'm a man of my word.”

  He marched past her, not daring to turn back. If he did, he'd have no choice but to pull her into his arms.

  Chapter 7

  Summer watched Kian's tense form stalk out of the grove. He disappeared down the wooded trail.

  Did she dare go after him? The answer flashed in her head, even if she didn't want to accept it. She had to let him go. His kind didn't belong here.

  Traces of Kian's desire, anger, and the enticing scent of his arousal lingered—a bittersweet torment she struggled to ignore. Her heart raced, thrashed deep within her chest, driven harder by the bursts of power threatening to explode from her.

  Something about Kian called to her magic.

  Was he destined to be her mate?

  Impossible. As far as she knew, connections between humans and witches were rare. She hadn't heard of a human and a witch having such a divine relationship in centuries. According to coven law, mates must merge powers to seal their bond. Since humans had no power to offer, no full union would be created. Yes, vampires and shifters had found such unions, but they were able to turn their mates through the exchange of sex and blood to complete the bond.


  She trembled, filled with fury and lust. She was furious he had invaded the sanctity of the grove, but also crammed with the intense urge to chase him, strip him bare, and explore every glorious inch of his rock-hard body.

  When she heard the Goddess call his name, shock coursed through her. When she went outside to find him gone, terror replaced her surprise. She had let her senses free and called to the woodlands for guidance. She followed their lead to find Kian standing in the center of the grove.

  Their holy place, the grove, helped them recharge their batteries so to speak. All witches needed a place to commune with their elementals. Even those who chose to live in human-infested cities needed a place representing the four elemental powers of earth, air, water, and fire. It gave witches strength, and without it assured their weakness.

  Goddess be, the sight of a human standing in a place sacred to her kind terrified her. Time had stopped. Her heart continued to pound.

  This was the exact thing her nana feared. Humans must never know of this place. To show the value and treasure of the grove to the stain of humanity sentenced everything in it to death. His presence proved Summer's failure to protect her home.

  Nana would be so ashamed of me.

  She lifted her head, scanning the sapphire-colored sky. “It was one thing, Goddess, to invite him to the cottage, another to show him our most guarded secret. And then you torture me with forbidden desires, needs I can never fulfill. My body still craves him.”

  The abrupt rumble of Kian's motorcycle broke through the soft sounds of nature with the force of rolling thunder across a once quiet sky. A dozen birds shot to the heavens before diving back into the cover of thick trees. She listened to the loud pipes until they faded and disappeared.

  A throat cleared behind her. Summer spun to find the Goddess hovering over the lake. Her sheer gown flowed an inch above the tarn, casting a pale shadow over the glass-like water. She glided closer. The sunlight altered her dress transparent, exposing her breasts and womanhood to Summer's view. Her skin resembled the finest porcelain, flawless and smooth. Soft, flowing crimson locks fell well past her hips. Small braids adorned each side of her head, interwoven with tiny yellow flowers. Atop her head sat a crown of polished amber and gold. Her eyes resembled the brightest emeralds Summer had ever seen and glowed with faint, iridescent pupils. As feminine and gentle as this woman appeared, she emitted a power so strong that Summer shook from the weight of it.