“My bear, he wants you, in a lot of ways. He’s demanding I mate you. We both know that would never work.”
“Demanding you mate me? Is that some kind of shifter slang? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“When shifters mate, they mate for life. To take a mate means to mark them, claim them. It is far more binding than a wedding ceremony.”
“I’ve been bound before. I don’t want any part of that.”
“A shifter can’t force his mate to do anything she doesn’t want to. That isn’t the point. You and I can’t work. You’re a witch. I should have kept my bear under control, but I can smell how much you want me. I figured, why not? You know? We’ve got nothing better to do out here.”
“Sure. Whatever,” she said, annoyed at his stupid excuses. It wasn’t that she wanted to be his “mate,” because she didn’t. Did she? No. She didn’t. She barely knew him. She totally needed a rebound from Harold, but there was no way they’d work. He was right. She should be thanking him for keeping it real.
She gazed at the sea and suddenly spotted a dark form out on the horizon. “Look!” she shouted, pointing toward the vessel.
“Hurry, light the fire!”
Vivian ran down the beach toward their signal fire and pointed her finger at the pile of logs far above her on the cliff. Concentrating as hard as she could, she recited the fire spell she’d known since she was a young witch.
Nothing. Shit.
She ran farther down the beach, closing the distance between herself and the readied wood. Again, she pointed and recited the spell, willing the fire to blaze with every part of her soul.
It burst into red hot flames above her on the cliff. Smoke billowed into the clear air above the island and high into the sky. She looked at the ship and saw the glint of an SOS signal flashing toward them. She ran back down the beach to Laurence who was wearing the dark look he usually had when he looked at her. “It’s coming,” he said solemnly.
“Thank you for everything, Laurence. I owe you a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. After what we’ve shared, there is no owing.”
“I feel terrible about your boat.”
“It isn’t a problem. I’ll have a new one within a month. Don’t worry about it. We part as friends.”
He looked down at her, towering above her. He reached out one big hand, offering it to shake. She took it, smiling halfheartedly. She knew she should feel relieved but part of her just felt heartbroken. Stupid. He was never her boyfriend, or even a lover. He was just a guy who she fucked on an island. That was all.
The rescue boats motored to shore and helped Laurence and Vivian inside before they hurried them across the calm sea to a cruise ship. Aboard the ship they were given clean clothes and shown to a room to share. Vivian closed the door behind her awkwardly. One room. I guess giving us a free room on a thousand-dollar cruise was enough charity.
Laurence put his bundle of clean clothes on the king sized bed and looked her up and down. “You want to take the first shower?”
“Um. Sure. Thanks.”
She gripped the clean clothes tightly to her chest and went into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she heaved a sigh of relief as she breathed the hot steam.
She’d be home and safe in no time, and she finally had the last ingredient for her spell. She slipped out of her dirty clothes and into the shower.
Warm water sliding down her back felt like absolute heaven. She groaned, feeling how sore her muscles were. Running soap over her body and between her legs, she realized how badly she still wanted Laurence. Damn it. She had to get him out from under her skin. He was nothing but trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Laurence paced the bedroom, wanting more than anything to burst into the bathroom and take her in the hot, steamy shower. The smell of floral perfume and her body filled his scenes to the point where he could barely keep control of himself.
The woman had bewitched him. In all his life, he’d never let a women get under his skin like this, let alone a witch. When she sauntered out of the bathroom with a trail of fragrant mist on her heels, her head wrapped in a towel, and her face pink from the heat, he tore past her into the bathroom.
He’d asked the ship captain for separate rooms, but they couldn’t accommodate them. He wouldn’t spend the rest of the journey back to the mainland in the same room with her. The temptation to take her again would be too great.
His bear roared inside him as he took off his clothes. The animal was so close to the surface, clawing to get out and feel Vivian’s skin, still warm and damp from the shower. No. He had to be stronger than this. A witch cursed his mother and caused her death. If avoiding getting enchanted by a member of their race meant he had to be at odds with his inner animal, so be it.
He got in the shower and cleaned quickly before getting out and getting dressed. In his fresh clothing, he felt like a new man. Laurence could rough it like any shifter, but two days on an island with nothing but boar meat and a witch fire was a bit much for even the toughest of shifters.
He came out of the bathroom to find Vivian gone. His inner bear groaned loudly and Laurence shushed it down. What did it matter if she wasn’t there? When they got back to Mystic Harbor, they probably would never see each other again.
Maybe he’d take his new ship back to Alaska, home of the great Kodiak bear clans and find himself a position with his cousins. His brother would be fine here with the black bear family. He didn’t need Laurence to babysit him. Besides, the fishing was so much better in Alaska.
Laurence left the room with a smile on his face, feeling as if he’d made a good decision. He’d never quite meshed with Oregon, he told himself. The winters were far too mild. No need to hibernate.
He made his way to the dining room and began heaping food onto a plate from the buffet. At the end of the line, he shoved a giant prawn into his mouth and looked around the room.
Vivian sat at a table by herself, looking out onto the sea through a floor to ceiling window. The bear within shoved him forward, growling and groaning. Laurence grimaced.
Fine. He’d eat lunch with her. They’d be on their way after that anyway. He might as well have someone to talk to at lunch. Not like he knew anyone else on board.
He strode over to the table and sat down, his plate piled high with all kinds of shipboard delicacies.
“Hello,” she said softly, looking a bit lost. She gave him a half smile and looked back out to sea.
“Hi,” he said gruffly, taking his seat. He dug into his food, only briefly looking up at her because his instincts forced him to stare at her breasts. He glanced down at her plate and noticed she’d hardly eaten anything.
“Not hungry?” he asked, wiping the crumbs from his face.
“I’m just thinking about what to do about my ex-husband. There are so few options and none of them are good.” Her voice trailed off. He gazed at her, finally giving her his full attention.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, looking at her sideways. She looked green, seasick, but he knew Vivian didn’t get seasick.
“I don’t know, Laurence. I don’t know. I wish there were an easy way out of this. A way that made me feel less afraid, less…”
“Less what?” He couldn’t help wanting to help her, to protect her. It might be the result of his bear’s demands to mate the woman, but he felt it nonetheless.
“It doesn’t matter. Is that chocolate cake over there?” She stood and wandered back to the buffet. Laurence watched her curvy body sway through the crowd and come to stand in front of the buffet table, piled high with every manner of desert.
She took a small plate and dished herself a slice of chocolate cake. A satisfied smile crept over her lips. At least she seemed happy now. Then he reminded himself, his bear, that he didn’t care if she was happy. She was a witch and probably up to no good.
She came back to the table and sat down across from him. Her smile had grown broader, showing her teeth. She picke
d up the small fork and lifted a bite into her full pink mouth. He watched as she licked a crumb off her lip. Lust lurched inside him and he growled.
“This is delicious! Here, have a bite.” She leaned over the table, her cleavage tipping forward for him to get a better view. She lifted the fork to his mouth, pressing it between his lips.
Their eyes locked and the delectable chocolate and coconut flavor burst over his tongue. It was made a thousand times more delicious by the sight of her breasts, her shining eyes, and her smile. She slid the fork out of his mouth and sat back down.
“Good,” he grunted.
An announcement sounded over the loudspeaker that they would be coming into port soon. This was it. The whole stupid ordeal was over. Now Laurence could focus on replacing his boat and traveling back to Alaska.
He stood and turned, but a small hand grabbed the thick muscle on his upper arm. He turned to see tiny, curvy Vivian standing before him. Her eyes were wide and beguiling.
“Laurence. Thanks again. For everything. I really enjoyed… everything. If you ever want to come over… um… here’s my address and phone number.” She shoved a piece of paper into his hands and hurried off.
He pushed the paper in his pocket. And strode to the exit ramp. He wouldn’t call her. He wouldn’t go over to her house. That woman had devilish work to attend to and he wanted no part of it. No part of it whatsoever.
Chapter Thirteen
Vivian grabbed the black myrtle leaves and her dirty clothes from the bedroom. Laurence’s things were already gone when she got there. She’d hoped to see him one last time.
Maybe he’d call. She doubted it. He made it pretty clear what he thought of witches. She had the same prejudices about shifters, but after spending time with Laurence, she didn’t really feel that way anymore.
Out on the deck, the sky was bright blue as the ship pulled into Mystic Bay. The distance to the harbor drew closed and the ship came to port. After a few moments, the ship was secured to the harbor and the exit ramp lowered.
Passengers disembarked for a short detour, while Vivian felt like a condemned woman taking her final march to her execution. Marietta’s words played through her mind.
Only bad karma would come of her spell. Perhaps her first attempt already had brought bad luck down upon her head: the storm, the shipwreck, nearly drowning.
What choice did she have? Either she went back to Chicago with Harold, or she banished him. Both outcomes would result in her losing the life she loved, be it by choice or by chance.
She could never be happy as Harold’s slave in the Windy City. His coven were all as insane as he was, and their insanity grew each day. How he avoided the clutches of fate, she did not know.
Perhaps for those who were truly evil, evil did not punish them. Vivian sighed as she passed her shop, dark the last few days she’d been away. She walked to the glass door and put the lock in the key.
When she passed the entrance, her foot bumped an envelope, sending it skidding across the floor. Vivian closed the door behind her and went to pick it up. She tore through the paper and opened the folded letter inside.
I’m coming.
The letters were scrolled in blood. She knew Harold’s dramatic handwriting anywhere. He prided himself on his calligraphic technique. The paper dropped from her hand, landing softly on the floor at her feet.
She gasped and covered her mouth, her heart beating like a bass drum. She had to prepare. The waning moon would not be ideal for summoning, but with the black myrtle, the spell was complete.
Hurrying through her quiet shop, she grabbed all the items she would need to complete her task--oil of calamus, dried fish powder, deadly nightshade, fragrant honeysuckle petals, Himalayan salt, dried thyme, and cypress bark.
All she needed now was to gather the essential oil of the black myrtle. She needed only one drop to complete the spell. Vivian hurriedly set up her distiller and prepared the leaves she’d carefully harvested on Sea Cliff island.
Her thoughts briefly wandered to Laurence and the feeling of his hands on her skin, his lips on her mouth, his cock hard between her legs. She grimaced and pressed her eyes tightly closed. There was no time for that now. Laurence was inconsequential. He had been a rebound screw on the island. Two lost souls coming together for a bit of bump and grind. That was it. It was over.
She opened her eyes and groaned. God, she wished she could convince her body of that. Her nipples pricked just at the thought of him, and her clean panties had gone all moist.
Stomping her foot, she went to work putting the black myrtle leaves in the distiller. It would take hours for the first drops of essential oil to trickle down the tube and land in the tiny amber bottle she had ready to catch it.
As the still did its thing, she paced the dark shop. Her heart leapt like a spastic frog, and her pulse buzzed like the fly trying to escape the frog’s sticky tongue.
The phone rang and she answered it without a thought.
“Hello?” she said.
“Vivian! Thank God,” Marietta’s frantic voice pitched high on the other end of the line, her children’s laugher gathering to a chaotic crescendo at the same time.
“Mari. I’m so glad to hear your voice,” Vivian said. Her own voice sounded strained and sad. It was the voice of a woman on the edge, barely restrained.
“What’s wrong? Tell me,” Marietta demanded.
“I got the black myrtle,” she said with a sigh.
“You’re doing it? You’ll be damned, Viv. Mark my words. If not by the universe, then Mother will make sure of it.”
“I told you not to tell her.”
“You don’t think she already knows? You and I both know that woman has a thousand eyes and a million ears.”
“What else can I do?” Vivian whimpered, close to tears.
“Viv. Just come over. There has to be a way around this. Let Mother cast her deflection spell. It might buy you some time.”
“It’s too late. He’s already here. I got a note under my door, written in blood. It was his handwriting.”
“Vivian, let us protect you.”
“No one can protect me now, sister. Just stay away from me. Stay away. Don’t let my curse bring you down too.”
Vivian hung up the phone with a sob. Tears fell down her face as her features contorted in a full on ugly cry. She slid to the floor and held her stomach, thinking of all that she would never have and all that she had lost already.
After she’d finished spewing her hopelessness, she wiped her tears and stood up. If Harold intended to ruin her life, she’d ruin his right back.
Chapter Fourteen
Laurence sat on his deck overlooking the beach far below, petting his cat. Unfamiliar emotions rose and fell in his chest as his cat purred in his lap. Vivian was a witch. How could he possibly have feelings for her?
But he did. He couldn’t deny it. Laurence had grown fond of her and even now, he couldn’t help but worry about her. The ex-husband she mentioned sounded like a jackass. What kind of man makes a woman do something against her will? Forcing her to go back with him even after he’d divorced her. How despicable could a man be?
She’d clearly been in fear of the man and had few options as to how to deal with it. Laurence growled inwardly and stood. He had too much to do to worry about Vivian’s personal problems.
The boat insurance would pay out more quickly than he’d expected, and he’d only be in Mystic Harbor until it went through. He went to the refrigerator and took out a long-neck bottle of beer. His little gray cat rubbed his leg and meowed. The creature meant a lot to him, and he was grateful to Vivian for saving her life. Reaching down, he picked up the cat and held her to his chest. The animal purred loudly as Laurence cradled her over his arm.
He took a swig of beer and headed back out on the deck. The crisp evening air bit his nose and the smell of the sea tingled in his senses. How he wished to be back out on the waves, drawing a catch in his net.
Thoughts of Vivia
n flitted through his mind. He saw her curvy body open and naked before him in the sand, her thick thighs wrapped around his waist. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his beer down on the table beside him and let his cat jump from his lap. Damn it. He could not get that woman out of his mind.
He had to see her if only to put an end to his distraction. Maybe if they were together one last time, he could let her go. But Laurence knew that wasn’t true. He wanted more than one last time. He didn’t want to let her go. Laurence wanted what his bear wanted. To mate her, claim her, make her his.
A thought shot through his mind like a lightning bolt. He gasped as his eyes grew wide. A shifters mating superseded all else, perhaps even a witches curse. Could he save her with his mate’s bite?
It was ridiculous. A bear shifter mate with a witch. His old hatred of witches crawled in his throat, making him choke. Vivian was not the witch who had cursed his mother. Not all witches were alike. Just like not all shifters were alike. He’d come to know her in the days they’d spent together, and she was an honorable person.
If he could save this woman, the woman he was growing to care for, to love, from the grips of an evil witch’s spell, perhaps his mother’s death could be avenged. Laurence dug through his pockets and pulled out the slip of paper Vivian had given him with her address scrawled on it. Staring at the address, he sighed. He knew exactly where that was, up the hill from town. He shoved the paper back in his pocket and stormed out the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Vivian looked up at the waning moon, just past its full ripeness. The fire sparked in the darkness of night as she clutched her robe around her body. Underneath it, her bare skin pricked from the cold. A summoning like this must be done skyclad. Only the stars could clothe her skin.
Lifting the heavy cast iron pot over the hot flames, she muttered the words to cleanse her cauldron. She dropped off her robe and drew her dagger. Stepping close to the fire, she cast her circle, sprinkling salt along the outer border to seal the space from external energies. She called the corners, bringing the powers of north, south, east, and west into her circle.
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