by Renee George
His erection tented his pajamas and I smirked. "It looks like someone doesn't mind a little hard work."
He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around him. His gaze grew hungry and intense. "I want you, Eliza Marie."
"I want you, too, Grady. More than anything," I told him.
"I mean, I want you. Always. I want you to marry me. Be my mate." He kissed me hotly, his mouth hard on mine before continuing his proposal. "I'm not confused or sideways. I'm not rushing my feelings. Rushing would have been telling you that I loved you the first time I laid eyes on you. The fact that I've waited this long is a testament to my will."
"You are very patient," I agreed. "A will of iron."
"Are you teasing me?"
"Maybe." I giggled as my emotions threatened to explode my heart again. "Did you just say you love me?"
"Yes. And just in case I wasn't clear. I love you, Eliza. I love you so damn much."
"I love you, too, Grady."
"So, you'll marry me and take me as a mate?"
I hesitated, because I was human now. Grady still had another century and a half of living to do. By the time he started aging, I would be dead in my grave. "But I won't live as long as you."
"Yes, you will."
"How? You can't make me a werewolf, and I won't be a minion again." I smoothed his hair from his face and gazed into those sparkly green eyes. "I am yours for as long as you want me. But I don't want to tie you down when I'm gray and wrinkled."
"Werewolves take human mates all time, love," he told me. "The magic of the mate bond allows the human mate to live as long as his or her other half. If you accept me, then we will be together for the rest of my life, not yours."
"Yes," I said, stunned to tears. "So much yes, yes, yes."
Grady hugged me and spun me around before taking me to bed. He wasted no time taking off my underwear while I stripped his shirt I wore over my head. He kicked his pajama bottoms off as he crawled up the bed and sidled himself between my legs. He touched me with his fingers, the tips rubbing over the aching nub before sliding a little inside me. "You're so wet, Eliza. So wet and ready."
"I've been ready for you my whole life," I told him. He replaced his finger with his hard length and entered me, inch by slow inch, as he allowed my body to adjust to his girth. For a moment, I thought he would split me at the seams, but then my muscles relaxed, and he slid the rest of the way inside me.
He held still, his elbows on either side of my face as he gazed at me with love and adoration. "You're so fucking beautiful."
I swallowed the knot in my throat, my emotions so thick I couldn't speak.
"Do you accept the bonds of pack?" he asked.
I nodded, and gasped out a "yes," as his thickness sat inside me, filling me.
"Do you accept the bond of blood?"
"Yes."
He bit into his wrist hard enough to break the skin. He offered me the blood welling to the surface. I didn't even make a face as he pressed it to my lips and I drank some of it. The metallic taste of blood was tinged with something else, almost sweet. And then, it was all sweet, and delicious, and I couldn't get enough. I let out a small sound of protest when Grady took his wrist away. He laughed, and it made his lower parts move, and that made me groan. God, how I wanted him moving.
"Do you accept my seed as your husband and mate, binding us both until death parts us?"
"I'm coming back to haunt you if you outlive me," I said. He surged his hips, effectively shutting me up. "Yes," I panted. "Hell yes."
He withdrew enough that I almost scooted down to keep him in, but then he thrust inside me with a swiftness that took my breath away. He moved against me, a sea of motion, as what had once been painful took on a kind of ecstasy I'd never even dreamed existed. He held me tight, kissing me, loving me as he rocked our bodies to the brink of rapture until we spilled over the edge. I cried out first as pleasure wracked my body, then Grady moaned, long and low as he quickened his pace, his hips jerking as his orgasm joined mine. When he finished, he collapsed on top of me, and then rolled me over so that I was lying on his chest, still joined until he grew soft enough to slip out of me.
"Wowee," I said when I could speak again. "I think you blew my toes off."
"I think my toes are missing as well," Grady said. He laughed. And it was easy, an unburdened laugh, and it was something I wanted to hear every day for the rest of my life. "So, do you want to set a wedding date, because I want to be married sooner rather than later."
He lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me. "We are married."
"We are not."
"What do you think that was that we just did?"
"Super awesome deluxe hardcore fantastic sex."
He grinned. "It was all that. But it was also a mating. You're my mate. We're married."
"Elise is going to kill me. We swore that if either of us got married the other would be the maid of honor. I can't be married without my sister."
"We can have a formal ceremony with your family if you'd like."
"I knew you'd see it my way."
"I don't want the wrath of your sisters haunting my every waking moment."
Speaking of haunting. "Have you seen your mom since the other night?"
"I think she's at peace now that we know the truth." Now that Grady knew the truth and no longer thought his mom had left him on purpose.
The revelation had also saved Randy. It turned out that Bobby had tried to poison him in the same way. We found him and Carol Ann and got them the antidote on time. Everyone ended up with who they should, and for once in Grady's life, all was right with the world. I was just happy to be a part of it.
The phone rang. It was Elise. I snatched it off the bedside table. "I'm getting married!" I blurted.
"Oh, Eliza!" she blurted back. "That's wonderful news." I left out the part about already being married technically, because that was not a conversation I wanted to have on the phone. "When? Where? We have so much planning to do! Maybe I can hire male strippers for your bridal night. They do that now adays."
I laughed, enjoying my sister's enthusiasm. "Now you know my news, what's yours?"
"Yes, that," she said, her voice sobering. "Well, Olivia and David took off because they got a lead on Sandra Barstow's whereabouts, and Charlotte is ready to give birth, so I don't want to bug her."
"Okay." This conversation was taking on a weird tone. "Just spit it out."
"A really cute guy showed up and says he's a minion and needs Olivia's help."
"Cute, huh?"
"Very."
"Send him away, Elise."
"He's injured, Eliza. And he's not healing. He wants our help to figure out what's happening to him."
"We are not Oprah for the paranormal world. Tell him to go ask his demon."
"He says he can't."
"What do you mean, he can't?"
"Apparently, Hell is having a civil war."
Oh boy. I looked at Grady.
"I guess we're taking a trip down south," he said.
I smiled at him. "I really do love you." To Elise, I said, "I'll be home in six hours with dressing and packing. Don't do anything until I get there."
"I won't." Unfortunately, I heard the lie in her voice from two-hundred miles away.
“Get dressed,” I told Grady. “We gotta hurry.”
The End
Witchin’ Impossible
Small town. Dead bodies. Horny familiar. Hot high school crush. Just another day in Paradise Falls.
When FBI agent and witch Hazel Kinsey and her familiar Tizzy the Squirrel left the paranormal town of Paradise Falls, she swore she’d never return. She didn’t want witch and Shifter politics to be a part of her adult life. Worse, she didn’t want to stick around and watch her high school crush, Bear Shifter Ford Baylor, carry out the white-picket-fence dream of marriage and family with somebody else.
Nope.
She was never, ever stepping foot in Paradise Falls again... Until her
best friend from high school calls and begs for help in solving a murder case getting colder by the minute.
Hazel reluctantly returns to her own personal hell only to deal with more murders, rusty witch powers, a familiar hell-bent on hooking up, and uncooperative citizens. Throw in werebear Ford, who’s surprisingly single and hunkilicious, and Hazel has her hands full.
Yeah. All she has to do is conquer her lust, corral her squirrel, save her best friend, and find a killer.
Chapter One
“TIZZY!” I SHOUTED.
A large red squirrel leap-frogged the couch, the loveseat, slid across the dining room table, grabbed a nut from a bowl in the center as she passed, and flew off the edge and through the air the last couple of feet before coming to an abrupt halt in front of my coffee cup.
“You called?” Her voice and cadence was like the old movie star Mae West’s, only on helium. She cracked the walnut on the counter and picked away at the shell with a pretty pink painted nail. Through all this, she barely glanced at me.
“Where did you put my Glock?” I tapped my own pretty pink painted nail on the hard counter. “And quit using all my polish.”
She held out her tiny paw and examined her manicure. “I can’t help it if I make this shade look good.” Finally, she cast her large, dark brown eyes on me and batted her unnaturally thick lashes. “You’re a witch, Hazel. You don’t need a gun.”
“I’m an FBI agent, Tizzy. It’s expected.”
The squirrel turned around and swished her tail at me. “I worry about you is all.” When she turned back around, the nut she’d held was gone, and my pistol was magically on the counter in front of her. “Ta-dah!” She stretched out her arms, palms up, and wiggled her fingers.
I tried to keep my gaze disappointed, but when your flying squirrel familiar strikes a pose and gives you jazz hands, it’s hard not to freaking smile. I grabbed the gun and holstered it on my belt. “Just leave the standard issue FBI weapon alone. I’d hate to have to throw you in jail.”
Tizzy clasped her hands together and held them over her heart. “Oh, Hazel,” she said with great tragedy. “I am not made for a cage!”
“Calm down.” My phone rang as I contemplated putting my familiar on a mood stabilizer. I pressed the phone to my ear. “Special Agent Kinsey.”
“Haze?”
The quiet feminine voice startled me. “Lily?”
“It’s me,” she said.
Lily Mason had been my best friend all through elementary and high school. We hadn’t kept in touch. It had less to do with a falling out, and more to do with the fact that when I left Paradise Falls (more like Paradise Fails), Iowa, I never looked back. The memories were too painful. Even now, I felt trepidation like a cold trickle of sweat down my back.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
I heard a choke of grief on her end. “Danny’s dead.”
“What?” Danny was Lily’s younger brother. He had to be in his early twenties now. She and Danny had been on their own six months before our senior year ended. Guilt tugged at me when I thought about what it must have been like to have no options. Danny had only been seven years old at the time. I’d already received my acceptance to Iowa University, so the minute I had my diploma in hand, I hightailed it out of town. I didn’t even participate in the graduation ceremony. Lily, who had planned to go to the university with me, stayed behind to raise the kid.
“How did he die?”
Lily and her brother were werecougars. Shifters. Their kind is immune to regular disease, so I braced myself for an unpleasant answer. When she said, “Murdered. Someone or something killed him,” I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“You’re joking.” Her silence was enough to make me feel like a total ass. “What do you need me to do?”
“The witches don’t believe magic is involved, so they won’t investigate.”
“What about the Shifters?”
“Danny has been in and out of trouble the last couple of years. Drugs. Fights. They think he’s responsible for his own death. They won’t act.”
“Harvest in a hailstorm,” I swore. “How long ago did it happen?”
“It’s been four months now.”
“Oh, honey. You should have called me.”
“I’m calling now.”
But not in time for me to go home for a funeral. For Goddess’ sake. I really had been a rotten friend. “Do you suspect anyone?”
“I’ve checked with all his so called friends and acquaintances. According to them, Danny hadn’t pissed anyone off enough to take his life.”
“How did he die?”
“According to the medical examiner, every bone in his body was broken.”
“That wouldn’t kill a Shifter.”
“No,” she agreed. “But when his killer broke his ribs, one of the left-side ribs stabbed into his heart. In the end, that’s why he died. Haze?”
“Yeah, babe.”
“It was the very last bone. The examiner suspects it was meant to be a killing blow.”
“I’m so sorry, Lily.” I blew out a breath. No way would I let Lily down again. “I’ll check into Danny’s death. The witches might not talk to you, but they’ll talk to me.”
“Haze?”
“Yeah?” I was already looking up my boss’s phone number.
Lily was silent for a couple of seconds.
“Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Not about Danny,” she said quietly. “I’m…I’m glad you’re coming. Anything you can do would be great.”
A wave of guilt hit me when I heard the relief in her voice. Lily had really been there for me during a rough time in my life. She’d encouraged me to get the hell out of town and get a fresh start. This phone conversation was a reminder that I hadn’t just left my problems behind, I’d also left the one person I could always count on. “I’ll call you back when I have news.”
“Thanks, Haze.”
“I can’t promise anything, Lily. Just…well, hope for the best, prepare for the worst. I’ll let you know as soon as I can get on my way there.”
She hung up, but it took me a second to put the phone down. Little Danny Mason was dead, and my best friend was alone in her pursuit of justice.
I CONTACTED MY DIRECT SUPERVISOR at the Kansas City office for the Federal Bureau of Investigation before making the call I’d dreaded the most. I punched in the number quickly as if I were ripping off a bandage.
It went straight to voicemail. “You’ve reached Grand Inquisitor Clementine Battles. Please leave your name and a number after the beep, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Belch fire and save matches,” I grumbled. I never mixed my business and witch life, but if I wanted to investigate a supernatural crime that possibly involved witches, I had to get permission first for her highest of selves, the Grand Inquistor. I’d been so out of touch with the magical part of my life that I worried she would immediately turn me down.
I cringed as the phone beeped. “Uhm, this is Hazel. You probably don’t want to hear from, but could you call me at—Ah!” I jumped back, my hand automatically going for my holstered weapon.
Right in the middle of my living room, a woman wearing a figure hugging navy blue dress suit. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me sternly. “You called,” she said, reminding me of Tizzy for a moment.
“You scared the crap out me.” The last time I’d seen the Grand Inquisitor, she’d been directing a couple of her witch goons to transport my dad to prison in Salem, Massachusetts. I think she’d worn the same outfit.
“I thought I smelled something foul,” Tizzy said, waving her tiny fingers in front of her face.
“Tiz.” I shook my head. She rolled her eyes. The fact that my familiar wasn’t more scared spoke volumes as to just how out of the witch loop I’d kept her.
Clementine Battles, who, other than her silver hair, looked to be in her mid-thirties
but was actually over two-hundred years old, raised an appraising brow at the squirrel. “Tell me what you want, Hazel.”
“Really. You could have just called me back. That would have been totally cool.”
“You have spent your whole adult life avoiding our world.” She pulled out a tiny spiral memo book and flipped it open like a cop at a crime scene. “Here,” she said, pointing at a tiny line of writing. “The last time you used magic for any real purpose, other than the negligible location spell every now and then, was in the spring of your eighteenth year, right before you left Paradise Falls. Do you even know how to spellcast anymore?”
“Yes,” I said unconvincingly. Cripes, she was like the freaking Goddess with the whole “all-knowing” shtick.
She smiled, and I’d never seen anything scarier in my life. “I not only know everything, Hazel, but unlike the Goddess, I pay attention to everything as well.”
Goose bumps raised on my arms as I felt the enormity of the Grand Inquistor's power. Tizzy scampered under the couch, and for a second, I wondered if there was enough room for me.
The powerful witch snapped her fingers at me. “Now, tell me, why, after nearly two decades, you are calling me for help.”
“I…” I spilled everything. “And so,” I concluded, trying to sound as procedurally official as possible. “I’d like your official permission to investigate Daniel Mason’s death so that the witches in town will cooperate, or at least, not interfere.”
She tapped her chin. “Granted.”
My inner witch squeeed, but my outer agent kept a professional expression in place.
“However…”
My heart sunk as my inner witch said, well, crap. “Let me have it.”
“I would like you to be more involved in our community. I’m not asking you to leave the FBI, but you can no longer act as if you live on Lone Witch Island. And…” She narrowed her gaze. “You will owe me a favor. A marker I can call in anytime I wish.”