Freeing the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 1

by Tina Donahue

  Rowena laughed and cried. Swiping at her tears, she growled, “It’s worth it. Every lousy, cruddy, crappy, shitty minute no matter how unhappy it makes you.”

  “Since when have you started quoting Dolly Parton songs?”

  They both laughed.

  Winding down, Rowena sagged in her chair. “You really want a spell to help your guy out?”

  “He’s not my guy, and it’s the only thing I can think of. Even if I reverse the treatments like he suggested none of them would work. He’s not a were so moonlight therapy’s out. I doubt he’d want to go through what we do with the vampires. And the demons…uh-uh, he definitely wouldn’t like that.”

  “He can’t simply pretend to be a bad boy?”

  “I already suggested it. He said every time he tries, he starts to feel guilty and goes back to being nice. The poor babes—his words, not mine—get so confused, they don’t know what to expect and eventually take off.”

  “He wants a mortal?”

  “He didn’t specify. My guess is mortal, immortal, anyone in between.”

  “Like you.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re certain you don’t want him.”

  Becca lied through her teeth. “Not at all.”

  “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  Chapter Four

  In the stark light of morning, From Crud to Stud was relatively serene—few howls, groans or pounding on the walls, no different from the streets outside. Last night’s revelers were still in bed, sleeping it off. The calm had little effect on Eric’s mood. What he was about to do.

  He lifted the contract Becca had just slid to him and bounced it gently on his palm to test its weight. “I’m guessing this sucker weighs a pound. Am I right?”

  She drummed her fingertips against her naked belly. In addition to her navel jewelry…a cascade of tiny silver stars that caught the light each time she breathed…she wore the same basic outfit she had yesterday, harem pants and a top that tied beneath her breasts, only these were in sapphire blue. The same shade as her eyes. Her makeup was no less dramatic than the last time he’d seen her. Crimson lipstick that made her mouth seem unexpectedly kissable and black stuff on the tops and bottoms of her lids.

  She narrowed them slightly. “The contract is simply full disclosure to help you understand the process. So you’re completely protected.”

  A Wall Street hedge fund manager couldn’t have sounded more evasive. “Protected against what?”

  Becca’s face paled a bit. She gestured to the inch-thick stack of papers he held. “It’s all in there. Go on, read it.”

  “That could take days.”

  She glanced to the right, the left, past him. When she’d run out of places to look, she finally dragged her attention back to his face. “Most of it’s just standard legal junk. I’ve highlighted the important parts.”

  “The ones that will release my inner beast.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  She sounded far less confident than Eric would have liked or expected. He dropped the contract on her desk. The draft it created sent several of her other papers floating to the edge. Becca caught them before they fell to the floor.

  The way she’d turned caused a gap in her top, giving him a view of her lacy black bra. Oh mama. He gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward rubbernecking. Her bra cup dipped low, deliberately designed to expose her nipple. Tight, perky, rosy. No doubt scented with her musk and witchy fragrance.

  His mouth watered.

  She straightened and gave him an odd look. “What?”

  He shouldn’t have worn the stretchy boxers. His boys could barely breathe. “Should I have a drink before I begin? Do you need one too?”

  She stopped crushing the papers in her fist. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s perfectly al—”

  “Not a chance. What about you?” He turned as she left her desk and headed for the hall. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m just giving you space so you don’t feel rushed while you read the contract.”

  Eric waved her back to her chair. “I’d like you to stay. You might need to explain some of this stuff to me.”

  She returned to her desk far slower than she’d left it. Again, she affected the pose of a boss about to terminate an employee, except for her rough breathing and the color staining her cheeks.

  What in the fuck had she come up with to help him?

  Eric flipped through the pages until he’d reached the first highlighted part. Reading quickly, he frowned. “A river bed? Fishing for frogs? Roasting them? Wearing their ashes around my neck?”

  Becca cleared her throat. “It’s a very old spell said to work wonders on making men irresistible to women.”

  “Do the people who make Axe know this? Damn, they’re wasting their time with the products they put out.”

  Her expression darkened.

  His went way beyond that. “I didn’t say I wanted to be irresistible. I want you to release my beast.”

  “With that making you irresistible to women so they don’t dump you, am I right?”

  She had a point.

  “If you don’t like the first spell, there are others.” She inclined her head to the contract. “Keep reading.”

  Eric stopped halfway down the next page. “St. John’s Day? When’s that?”

  Becca told him.

  “You expect me to wait an entire year to do this?” He shook his head and read on until he got to the part about drying the brains and livers of a pigeon and blackbird so he could sprinkle the mess on his lover’s food, binding her forever to him. “Is this a joke?”

  Becca wasn’t laughing.

  “You expect me to poison some poor woman with bird guts?”

  “Everything in there is perfectly safe.”

  “You got FDA approval on it, huh?”

  Her shoulders bunched. “It’s just a suggestion. Do you want those thousands of babes out there to stick with you or not?”

  Sounded as though she didn’t want that at all. Frowning, Eric leaned closer.

  Becca pushed into her chair, trying to put distance between them. “What?”

  He thought she might be jealous of him dating those other babes, but couldn’t be sure. Only one way to find out—push her damn buttons. “Yeah, I do want that. A lot.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Maybe it’s not your niceness that’s putting them off.”

  “Putting them off?”

  “Disappointing them.”

  That didn’t sound any better. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She flicked her gaze in the direction of his fly. His ginormous erection.

  Eric studied her equally hard nipples.

  “How are you in bed?” she asked.

  Was she serious? “How are you?”

  Becca smiled. “This isn’t about me.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Her grin wobbled a bit and then widened. “Don’t worry, you’ll never know.”

  Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. Her snotty comment sure as hell hadn’t stopped his mind from going into overdrive, showing Eric what he wanted to do. Oh fuck that. What he should do.

  He imagined her reddish eyebrows lifting as he planted his hands on the arms of her chair, trapping her so she couldn’t escape. With their lips almost touching, he’d whisper, “Just try and stop me.”

  She wouldn’t. Her mouth would be loose and wanting beneath his. She’d suck his tongue more deeply inside as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Kissing her hard and deep, he’d haul her to the desk. Papers and pens would scatter, making rustling and tapping sounds when they hit the floor.

  Her moans, his grunts would drown out the other noises.

  He’d tear off her harem pants and thong, if
she was wearing underwear. Oh hell, she had to be so he could press the tattered lace to his nose, savoring her womanly fragrance. Rich. Earthy. The same as some of the plants in here, the only witnesses to his lust.

  Leaving on her high-heeled sandals, silver toe rings, and the delicate chains she wore around one ankle, he’d spread her legs wide. Her bush would be a darker red than her fiery hair, her folds plump and moist with passion. He’d explore their contours with his tongue, flicking it on her hard little clit, making her moan and scream.

  “What a shame for you,” he murmured, hiding his desire beneath nonchalance. “I’m fucking great in bed.”

  Her expression went unexpectedly blurry, as though she were imagining how good he’d be.

  If she was trying to turn him on, she’d succeeded big time. Every muscle in Eric’s body went to attention, especially the ones in his cock. Lust and excitement hardened him beyond belief. Damn she was sexy and ripe as hell. All that pale, dewy flesh. Surely softer than a rose petal and good enough to eat, mount and screw clear into tomorrow.

  She seemed to realize it and rolled her shoulders, shaking off whatever indecent fantasy she was having.

  Disappointed, Eric jabbed his finger into the contract. “This is the best you can come up with. Seriously? I thought you were the head witch. You are a witch, right?”

  “Are we speaking literally or figuratively?”

  Eric fought a smile. “Literally.”

  She sighed. “Through my mom. My dad’s mortal. So no, I’m not the head witch. But I do know these are tried and true spells. However, if you prefer potions, we could go that way.”

  “You mean eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog?”

  “That was Shakespeare’s concoction, or whoever’s he plagiarized, not mine.”

  “What’s in your potions?”

  “They’re my mom’s. She’s one-hundred-percent witch from a highly respected coven.”

  “Sounds good. What’s she suggest?”

  “The recipes start on page fifty-five.”

  And ended on page seventy. “This is longer than War and Peace.”

  “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  And miss out on their banter? Sparring with Becca was the most fun Eric had had in months. Smiling, he read the first recipe. “Red Bordeaux. Vanilla extract. Strawberry juice. Sounds like a wine cooler.”

  “The secret ingredients aren’t spelled out.”

  “Why not?”

  She purred, “Because they’re secret.”

  His rod twitched at her response. Her nipples had peaked even more at his. “Trademarked, huh?”

  “Not exactly. However, if I told you, I’d have to have Constance remove your memories.”

  “No need. I can live with your secrets.” He pushed the contract aside. “Let’s do this.”

  Becca studied him for a long moment.

  Eric found it arousing and disturbing. “What?”

  “You’re certain you want to go forward? There are no guarantees this will work, at least the way you think you want. It’s like that old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.’ Once you do, there may be no going back. You’ll be stuck with your new personality that you think you want, even though it’s not a good fit. So are you absolutely certain?”

  Not any longer. Eric had an overpowering urge to run.

  Of course, it was either this or dating for eternity. Going through an endless progression of women with none of them ever working out or making him feel wanted, treasured, accepted for the long haul.

  “You don’t want me to do this?” he asked Becca.

  “It’s not my decision.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  She played with a lock of her hair, then her top, running her fingers along the edge of it, finally dropping her hand to her navel, those glinting stars. “I want you to be happy, Eric. Will this make you happy?”

  He hadn’t a clue, but her answer, her concern had given him a lot more courage than he would have thought possible. “Let’s find out.”

  She hesitated, then clicked a pen and handed it to him. “Signature on the last page. Initials on pages seventeen, thirty-five, fifty-two, seventy-one and ninety-five.”

  Heather and Constance were in the hall outside Becca’s office. Becca nodded in greeting as she passed. They glanced from the contract she held to Eric.

  “Ladies,” he said, then murmured to Becca, “They’re not a part of this, right? It’s just going to be you and me, right?”

  That sounded nicer than it should have. They weren’t going on a date. They were about to release something within him that probably shouldn’t be set free. The damn fool was already perfect. “Yep.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  Suddenly, Becca was beyond reluctant. She ached to tell Eric as much, then kiss him until passion kicked in. With any luck, they’d go at each other like a pair of horny teens reunited after vacation bible camp. She gripped the handle of the treatment room to steady herself.

  After a few seconds, Eric said, “Aren’t we going in?”

  Eventually. But only because he’d insisted upon it, wanting—no, needing—all those other babes.

  When Becca still hadn’t moved, he murmured, “What exactly is in there?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “For what?”

  Weres. Even though many of the other treatment rooms were available this morning, Becca figured this one was her best choice to conduct business. Or rather, her experiments on him.

  She opened the door.

  He gaped at the claw marks on the walls, the padded table with extensions for arms and legs with leather restraints dangling from both areas. In other words, the props for an executioner’s wet dream.

  Eric circled the table. “You’re going to strap me to this?”

  Becca closed the door and locked it. She heard Constance and Heather move closer immediately, their shoes tapping the floor. “It’s for your protection…and mine. It’s in the contract.” She held it up to remind him. “Page fifty-two, right above where you initialed it.”

  He seemed sorry he had. “How much of my beast are you going to pull out?”

  “Only a little,” she promised. “If there’s any at all.”

  “There is.” He appeared offended that she kept questioning it. “There has to be. I’m a guy, all right?”

  Becca wasn’t about to argue with him. He’d worn a navy tee and battered jeans that didn’t hide one muscle on his gorgeous body. She sagged against the door, needing it for support. Even his feet were luscious, nice and big, his toes long, coming right to the edges of his leather sandals.

  Given that this was a weekday, he must have taken off from work because he didn’t know what to expect.

  Join the club. She murmured, “What do you do?”

  He stopped fingering the wrist restraints. “Do?”

  “At your job.”

  “Oh. I’m a financial analyst. I make sure my extended family’s investments are sound. Were you thinking of investing?”

  Before he whipped out his business card, Becca shook her head. “How aggressive do financial analysts get?”

  “In their recommendations?”

  “While they’re at work. Once I’ve pulled out some of your inner beast…that is, if there is any to pull—”

  “Haven’t I already said there is? Don’t you worry. I don’t have to be a pussycat at work.” He hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. “Let’s get started.”

  A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead. The rest of those sun-kissed waves were mussed as though he’d just rolled off a woman and out of bed. He was rumpled and all male. Hotter than sin. With just a smidgen of his inner beast liberated, he’d be irresistible to every female on planet earth and
beyond.

  Damn him.

  “Becca?”

  On watery legs, she forced herself to the sink to mix her mom’s potions. “Take off your clothes.”

  “What? Why?”

  An image flashed in her mind of him tugging the stretchy boxers up his thighs, but only after she’d gotten a good look at his stuff. She wanted to see it again. Was that so damn bad? “Sorry, didn’t know you were modest.”

  “I’m not. But I am curious.”

  Becca put the bottle of cloves and apple seeds next to the Bordeaux, stalling for a good lie. At last, she had it. “I need to see the potion’s effect on every part of your body.” She turned. “All right?”

  He stared at his groin. “By every part do you mean…”

  “Nope. Just your skin.” She hoped.

  He sighed in obvious relief and ditched his clothes, tossing them on one of the institutional chairs. Naked, unashamed and exceedingly well hung, he faced her.

  The world stopped.

  Slabs of firm, hard muscle draped his frame, all golden skin with no trace of a tan line. He swam or sunbathed in the nude and was more gorgeous than any Greek god Becca had read about in her literature classes.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “What happens now?”

  Not what Becca wanted, that was for sure. “Turn around.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  So she’d quit seeing herself on her knees, his glorious shaft in her palms. She’d sniff it first, then his balls, finally his thick thatch of hair, needing to drown in his scent. He’d smell of the outdoors and something masculine. She’d moan. He’d smile, then push to his toes as she licked his wiry curls and tasted his crown, lapping it as she would a scoop of decadent fudge ice cream, savoring the bead of moisture glistening on the small slit. His pre-come. Already excited, he’d go over the moon with her slavish attention, his rod growing longer and harder and…

  Becca stifled a needy whimper and continued to lie, “So you don’t see the secret ingredients I’m using.”

  “Would I even recognize them?”

  “You might.”

  “Then they’re normal.”