To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3)

by Jane Cousins

  Serena hated her on sight as her stomach roiled, acid burning the back of her throat as she fought the desire to leap across the table and scratch the bitch’s eyes out. Earth she should have made a run for it as soon as Locke mentioned the family match maker was here.

  All the ladies stood at her approach, Locke’s mother wearing a stylish blue dress had a slightly bemused welcoming smile on her stunning features as she eyed Serena with avid curiosity in her lovely dark navy eyes. It was hard to believe this youthful looking woman was Locke’s mother but the eyes definitely gave it away, the same dark blue as Locke’s.

  “Locke, what’s going on here?”

  “Mother, I’d like you to meet my houseguest, Serena Chastain, Serena, my mother Lucy, my Great Aunt Alma and this is…?”

  “Kirsten.” Lucy smiled and presented the candidate for future Mrs Locke Valhalla status as if she were presenting a prized car in a lottery. “Kirsten Vanderburg… of the Dutch Vanderburgs.”

  Locke managed a brief nod of acknowledgment to the newcomer, all the while his brain frantically trying to work out how to get the three interlopers out of his home so he could continue trying to talk some sense into Serena about acting as bait for four homicidal blood sucking killers.

  “We thought a tea party would be a lovely way for everyone to get to know one another.” Alma smiled through the awkward silence that had descended upon the table as both the other ladies contemplated Serena’s bare feet.

  “Yes I see that, but unfortunately now’s not…” Locke was cut off as his Aunt’s eyes flashed gold lights his way, choking off the rest of what he’d been going to say.

  The smile on Alma’s face never wavered. “You’ll join us… both of you. Not there Locke, you sit next to Kirsten. Serena can sit next to me.”

  Alma patted the chair beside her rather ominously Serena thought, taking a deep breath and wondering by the green Earth just what point she’d been trying to make by storming up to the table instead of running for the hills? Taking the seat next to Alma she couldn’t help but watch out the corner of her eye as Locke snuggled up next to Kirsten, the wannabe Mrs Valhalla.

  “Tea dear?” Alma passed a cup over to Serena and then to Locke.

  Lucy Valhalla was all smiles suddenly. “Locke, Kirsten heads up the legal department of her family’s firm. I think you’ll find you two have a lot in common.”

  “What?” Locke’s head snapped around, he’d been so focused on watching Serena across the table he’d barely processed what his mother had been saying. “Oh… yeah sure.” He turned to look at the sleek woman he was seated next to for the first time. Wow, was that a Christian Dior suit from the current season? His eyes flicking to her feet, scoping out the expensive cream leather brief case she had resting there. The workmanship was familiar; it seems Kirsten used the same Italian leather maker he did.

  “And what do you do?” Kirsten stared across the table at Serena as if she were a nasty mysterious stain she’d just found on her new skirt.

  “Oh Serena’s an actress.” Alma chipped in helpfully. “Runs around wearing the cutest little costume. Purple really is your colour darling girl.”

  “Umm, thank you.” Serena wanted to sink through the grass at her feet as Kirsten now eyed her as if she’d been downgraded from mysterious stain to something smelly she’d accidently stepped in.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met an actress before.” Kirsten stated in her throaty European accent, as if she equated meeting an actress right up there with bumping into a serial killer for the first time.

  Locke gripped his teacup tightly, finding he loathed the distinctly disdainful tone in Kirsten’s voice as she talked down to Serena.

  “We’re really quite ordinary people I’m afraid, not terribly exciting.” Serena was desperate to shift the conversation, any topic would be preferable than herself.

  Alma it appeared was having none of it. “Darling girl, hush your mouth. Why in those tiny little shorts and thigh high boots you positively cut a dashing figure. All the fans love you and what woman wouldn’t be jealous at your chance to work with all those large hunky men. Reality TV is a medium of television that is really beginning to come into its own I think.”

  Kirsten was now looking at Serena as if she were something strange and disgusting she’d found in her handkerchief. “I’m so busy with work… I barely find the time for a facial.” Her hazel eyes lingered judgmentally on Serena’s skin. “Let alone find time to watch TV, and when I do, I tend to watch the news, documentaries… serious things.”

  Serena fought hard the urge to scrub at her cheeks, did she have dirt there? Oh Earth she probably had smudges of dirt all over herself knowing her. Discreetly as possible she directed a tiny bit of her magic to brush away any lingering evidence of her more earthy side.

  Alma chuffed a derisive laugh. “Serious things, oh my dear, life can be dreary enough without wallowing in the world’s woes. People want entertainment, escapism and laughs, you should really try it sometime it might help you… relax.”

  Kirsten sent a complying nod and small smile Alma’s way before flicking hot disdainful eyes back at Serena.

  Great now she had a world class lawyer to add to the - we hate and want to kill Serena Chastain - club, well she’d just have to get in line. “Umm… So Kirsten you’re a lawyer. That must be interesting work, why don’t you tell us about it?”

  Locke was going to kill someone. His mother for arranging this embarrassing little meet and greet. His Aunt for reminding him that Serena had a legion of rabid fans out there waiting anxiously for her return to Atlanta and her old life. And Kirsten Vander- stuck up bitch-berg, who couldn’t make her contempt of Serena any clearer. Just where did she get off judging and pigeon holing Serena based on no information other than she was an actress? He knew the Vanderberg family were metal mages, filthy rich ones with fingers in practically every mining venture in the Northern hemisphere but Kirsten better watch herself. He had a feeling his little Earth Witch wouldn’t play fair if it came to a smack down.

  Hold on… his little witch? Since when? Since the moment he’d bloody well laid eyes on her he supposed. Goddess protect him, he was in love with a wanton wiccan. One who was insisting upon acting as bait for a bunch of blood suckers. One who had already made it very clear that she didn’t stay in one place too long and that as soon as the vamp threat was dealt with would be sending him a so long wave and sashaying her gorgeous ass right out of his life. Shit… what the hell was he going to do? Damn he needed a large shot of whiskey, not this insipid tea.

  How could he possibly convince her to stay? They valued different things in life. She was Earth and he was pretty much anti-Earth… well not the earth, more dirt specifically. If she had her way she’d probably never wear clothes and he… well he could really get behind that, as long as she didn’t mind his three piece suits. Which she’d always seemed to admire in the past and had certainly had fun divesting him of last night. Plus she made him laugh, stood up to him, which he found kind of hot and she challenged him. Not to mention the fact she hadn’t run screaming when she found out about his powers, in fact she’d laughed. But no… an Earth Witch and a Corporate Truth Mage, what was he thinking?

  But if he didn’t fight for Serena, just what would that leave him with? A woman like Kirsten? Sure on paper she was just his type, he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was a successful professional woman who clearly enjoyed the cut-throat legal world. And there was no denying she was beautiful in that sleek high powered business woman way he’d always gravitated too in the past. Her blunt, shoulder length dark blonde haircut, positively shouted overpriced French salon. Her makeup was perfectly applied, not too much and not too little, with those sexy blood red lips that had always turned him on in the past. Except now that he looked at Kirsten he found those lips kind of a turn off, she’d positively slathered on the lipstick. He couldn’t help but compare them to Serena’s rose pink bee stung lips, the memory of them swollen with passi
on and tasting like honey and spices forced him to bite back a groan of desire. To distract himself he drained his cup, grateful as his mother leaned across Kirsten to pour him another.

  Goddess was Kirsten still blathering on about her high flying job? What was there to say? She was a lawyer, the majority of her work was confidential, and the entirety of it was boring. Yet that didn’t appear to stop the woman from droning on ad-nauseam about her day to day life. Locke shot his mother a quick look, inwardly wincing at the hopeful dreamy expression on her face as she looked first at him, then at Kirsten. It didn’t take a university degree to know his mother was already picturing the two of them wed, bound and tied to a life of corporate domesticity, interspersed with the occasional popping out of a rug rat.

  Alma cleared her throat delicately, bringing Kirsten’s recitation of her daily schedule to a thankful halt. “Kirsten dear, don’t you think Locke’s home is just lovely?”

  Kirsten took a breath, reluctantly changing topic. “Yes, very lovely.” Her beautiful dark hazel eyes scoped the living room, kitchen and dining room. “Elegant and spacious, I can definitely see your taste reflected in the interior.” Kirsten eyes flickered down approvingly over Locke, though it was hard to tell which she admired more, his expensive bespoke suit or the lean physique under the clothes.

  Red mist was clouding Serena’s vision as she slammed her cup down onto her saucer with a loud clink. “And the garden Kirsten?” Serena enquired with a sweet smile on her face though her eyes were fizzing blue and purple sparks of fire.

  Kirsten contemplated her immediate surroundings, her lips a slash of disapproving red. “It’s a little… busy for my tastes.”

  “Really.” Serena’s eyes narrowed. “What would you change about it?”

  Kirsten cast a critical eye over the grass, the masses of hibiscus, the clumps of ferns and the looming palm tree. “Well I would probably aim for something a bit more moderate… classical, Italian courtyard with marble or sandstone maybe and cut back on the overabundance of plant life.”

  “Oh.” Lucy for the first time look vaguely disappointed with Kirsten. “I think the garden’s gorgeous, welcoming and not too…”

  “Prissy?” Locke recalled the word Hadleigh had used to describe the look of his courtyard before Serena had swept into his life. Funny how that word kind of perfectly described Kirsten and all the other glossy professional girlfriends in his past.

  Goddess if he had the choice now, would he want his monastic courtyard back? No, because this was Serena’s Eden, her bliss and what made her happy made him happy. Serena’s garden wasn’t made for such polite happenings as tea parties. It was wild and exotic like her. There should be raucous picnics… naked. Late night suppers… naked. Dancing under the stars… naked. Just the two of them… naked. Goddess he shifted sideways in his seat, rearranging his jacket to cover his suddenly rock hard cock.

  Serena choked down the last of her tea. Her eyes narrowing, if she didn’t know better she’d say Locke was turned on right at this moment, as he shifted a little closer to Lawyer Barbie. Earth and all the Stars she needed to get away from this greek tragedy before she did or said something she’d regret. Okay so she loathed Kirsten bitch-berg with a blistering cold passion but it couldn’t be denied that she was perfect Mrs Locke Valhalla material. Of course she was, the woman had the certified approval of the family match maker, why else would Alma be present except to start the two lovebirds on the road to marital bliss and sanctuary grid mandatory supernova sex-athons.

  Even now she noted Locke was staring at Kirsten with heated eyes, his fingers were actually twitching as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the woman. Wasn’t that just lovely. By tomorrow he’d probably barely remember he’d had a house guest let alone recall her name. And by the sounds of it his new wife wouldn’t be keeping the 30 foot palm tree around as a reminder. Earth, she was in for years of torment and regret, only the memories of their night together to keep her warm and Locke was starting on a new life with boring business Barbie.

  She wanted to hurt somebody, in particular the ice Princess sitting across the table from her. She wanted to pull out all of Kirsten’s hair and zap her until she was just a smouldering ruin. Kirsten might have taken one look at Locke, with his expensive suit and gorgeous home and decided he was the perfect man for her but he wasn’t, Serena knew it. Locke was smart, witty and whilst he didn’t like to play in the dirt, he sure as hell knew how to fight dirty. He was heat and passion, not cool and restrained like Kirsten ice-burg. Earth and all the Stars, she’d fallen in love with Locke Valhalla and what was the man in question doing whilst she came to this stunning revelation? He was just sitting there dazed and love-struck, staring at the woman next to him with intense dark blue eyes. It made her want to scream in frustration.

  Of all days for his perfect match to appear. Well she wouldn’t stand in the way of his happiness; in fact it was just one more reason to run as fast and as far as she possibly could when this whole debacle with the vamps was over. With that in mind she shot to her feet, giving everyone at the table a strained smile. “It was so nice to meet you all. Unfortunately I need to go get ready now… big plans for tonight.” Swivelling on bare feet she walked as quickly as she could inside, refusing to acknowledge the water that began dripping down her cheeks as tears. She did not cry over men. And she certainly wouldn’t cry over a tightly buttoned up, suit wearing, arrogant, stubborn, always thinks he’s right, superior man like Locke Valhalla.

  Locke shot to his feet to go after her but Alma with a surprisingly strong grip for someone her age grabbed him by the wrist. “Locke, no need for you to disappear as well. We have a guest, you must stay and get better acquainted.”

  “Aunt I really…”

  “I insist.” Alma shot him a sweet smile, all the time her brown eyes twinkling with little gold sparkles of light that were surprisingly intimidating.

  Against his will Locke sat back down as his mother passed over a plate of finger sandwiches and offered him more tea. He shook his head to both. Okay so he was an official hostage in a match making tea party themed nightmare. Fine, rather than just sit there silently contemplating throttling Ms hyper-critical Vanderburg with his bare hands, he’d sit there silently and work up the best cannot be refuted argument as to why Serena should not risk her gorgeous ass as vamp bait. Once he got rid of the ladies he’d present his argument to Serena, she’d immediately cave to his request and seek comfort and reassurance in his strong masculine arms.

  Of course the Goddess moves in mysterious ways and there was nothing more frustrating to him than the tea party that would never end. His mother kept giving him meaningful looks between smiles trying to force him to participate in the conversation. Not that Kirsten needed anyone else to speak it seems, she was more than happy to listen to her own droning soliloquy on international law and the European union mining regulations.

  Aunt Alma for all her insistence that he stay spent her time texting away on her mobile, a smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth ever so occasionally. The rumours he’d heard that his aunt could be dictatorial and scary were greatly impressed upon him today. He couldn’t say much for her match making skills however, if she thought he had the slightest interest in Kirsten ‘if I’m talking, I’m boring’ Vanderburg.

  Still it came as a shock to him just how late it had gotten when Hadleigh sauntered ever so casually out into the courtyard, a long shiny sword held loosely by her side. She looked intimidating and kind of blood thirsty in her all black fatigue ensemble, shit kicker boots and a cross bow strapped across her back.

  “Hadleigh.” Lucy Valhalla shot to her feet at the sight of her youngest child, a welcoming smile on her face.

  “Hey Mum, Aunt Alma.” Hadleigh gave her aunt a wary but respectful nod of greeting before she focused on the stranger in their midst.

  Locke shot up from the table and rounded it to rest a casual arm around his sister’s waist. Looking up at her, he gave her a furtive wi
nk. “Kirsten, I’d like you to meet my sister Hadleigh. Hadleigh, this is Kirsten Vanderburg.”

  Hadleigh loomed across the table, extending her hand out that didn’t currently hold a deadly weapon. “Of the Dutch Vanderburgs?” Hadleigh asked, giving the dark blonde her coldest ‘I’m thinking of how many whacks it will take to behead you with my shiny sharp toy’ look.

  “Err, yes.” Kirsten stared up at Hadleigh, at 6.6ft she was one intimidating woman, especially when she was in balls out warrior mode. “Sister?” A pale faced Kirsten looked to Locke.

  As Hadleigh straightened Locke snuggled in once more to her side, looking up beaming in pride. “Baby sister. Unfortunately I didn’t get the height the rest of the family did, but don’t worry I’m told it sometimes skips a generation, with the Goddess’s blessing any future children of mine will inherit the Valhalla sturdy warrior frame.”

  “Locke.” Lucy gasped out in surprised shock, whilst Alma seemed to be hiding her amusement behind a small coughing fit.

  If possible Kirsten paled even further.

  Hadleigh patted Locke affectionately on the head. “Ah, pipsqueak, you know we all still love your tiny scrawny butt.”

  Locke tilted his head back even further to look up at Hadleigh, giving her an adoring smile. “Thanks sis.”

  “Locke! Hadleigh! I don’t know what you two are saying.” Lucy Valhalla gave her children a look of dismay as Kirsten instantly bolted to her feet, clutching her briefcase.

  “I have to go.”

  Lucy made an attempt to stop her. “Honestly Kirsten, the children were just making a silly joke.”

  Kirsten forced a weak smile, warily eyeing Hadleigh and Locke, wavering as to whether to believe Lucy or not. That was the moment Vaughn chose to stride outside to join them, casting a long shadow at 7.3ft.