Stupid. Taking a chance like that, but what choice did she have?
Merryn peered out into the waiting night knowing full well the wolves who’d been chasing her were still out there. She turned and walked into the semi-darkness of the shop. Everything appeared to be in order. The wall display of herbs, the crystals and divination in the front window space with a selection of tarot cards. The soft glow from a reading lamp lit the library area, but as she ventured toward the counter she caught a hint of movement in the doorway beyond.
“Hello is there anyone here? Bridget?”
Damien peeked out from behind the curtain, a set of earbuds dangling around his neck. His brows and dark eyes were startling against his fair skin and light hair, and his firm mouth always looked as if he were on the edge of laughter. His muscular frame filled out the black sweater he wore and, as he stood up from the chair to greet her, she got a look at the rest of the package.
Why did he have to be so damned amazing? For a moment she was so distracted, she forgot to be afraid.
“Hey there, hot stuff.”
Just like that her stomach clenched and her breath caught in her throat. The object of her lust stood there, looking cool and collected, while her world was being torn apart.
Holy hell.
Merryn nervously moistened her dry lips and walked toward him.
Chapter Two
Damien gazed at Merryn and grinned. Nobody did the sexy librarian look better than she did, and the more she gave him the cold shoulder, the more he wanted her. He coughed and adjusted himself, trying to think of something to get his body’s automatic response toned down a few pegs.
Bridget had mentioned she’d be coming in sometime during the evening and he was to wait for her.
“Why? Doesn’t she have a set of keys?”
“No, you idiot. She’s part time.” Bridget looked down her nose at him, her long brown hair drawn up in an elaborate twist giving even more visibility to the tattoos snaking up and down her arm. She was dressed in a slim fitting black evening gown, no doubt attending one of Salem’s many witchy events of the season.
“Fine. I’ll wait. Want me to dust your curio cabinets while you’re gone?”
“No. I want you to work on the books like you always do.” Bridget cocked her head and stared out the front windows into the night. “Something’s up. You owe me for taking the heat on that little matter with the mayor’s daughter three months ago.”
“But… she started it. Grabby, that one.”
Bridget brought her chin up and her mouth set in a hard line. “No buts. Besides, I thought you liked Merryn.”
“I do.” His jaw tightened and he tried not to think about how much he liked her. Or the endless rebuffs she’d sent his way and the fantasies he had about her spanking him with a ruler. Or him spanking her, that round ass pink under his ministrations.
Bridget gave him a stern glare. “Cut it out, Damien.”
“What?” He asked, all innocence, pulling his jacket from the chair and holding it in front of him. Bridget didn’t need to know about his affliction. He would do as she asked and go home to a lonely bed. Despite what she thought, he hadn’t been able to entertain the idea of taking on another female when all he wanted to do was pluck the glasses from the bookish girl’s face and kiss her soundly. She really didn’t realize just how appealing she was, and he intended to prove it to her. Starting tonight.
“Are you listening?”
“Huh?” Damien met her scrutiny with a smile, thankful his inner bubble of thoughts wasn’t floating over his head.
“Yeah. Okay. I don’t want to know. I’ll be back in three hours.” With that Bridget gave him a dirty look and sashayed out the door in heels tall enough to cause a nose bleed, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
That was a bad idea.
He didn’t have long to wait. Plugging in Nine Inch Nails, he dove into the accounting pages and the stack of receipts Bridget had left for him. She knew he loved doing it too. A lust demon who was fixated on math. Go figure.
It was finite. It had rules. Not like the rest of his world that lived under the perpetual strain of multiple shades of gray.
He didn’t hear her at first, but when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he angled out of his chair and found her staring at him with undisguised hostility.
“Your glasses are crooked.” He reached over and set the pencil down on the desk.
Merryn’s hands fluttered nervously at her sides and she unconsciously straightened the spectacles. “Where’s Bridget?”
“Not sure. She just asked me to wait for you, and said she’d be back in a few hours.” He pushed up from the chair, noticing for the first time that she appeared even more nervous than usual.
“I was a little later than I was supposed to be…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Noth… nothing,” she stammered, looking anywhere but in his direction.
Damian sighed. “Look, I know I’m not the person you were expecting, but I won’t eat you, okay? Why don’t you sit, and I’ll find you a soda or something?”
“It’s not you.” Merryn paled, a noise toward the front of the shop startling her. She let out a cry and moved toward him. “Oh, God. They're still out there.”
Damien narrowed his eyes. “Who's out there? Are you okay, kitten?”
“I'm not your kitten. And no, I'm not okay. Those wolves, they came for me. I had to shift...” Her voice broke, and he could see she was struggling to get a grip on her emotions.
“Whoa. Slow down. What happened?”
“I was at the University. I went to the lab to get my notes and I overheard a couple of professors talking.” She started to say something and shook her head, her lips pressed together in a hard line. “It doesn't matter what about, but I went to the lab and… crap. I have to talk to Bridget. When is she coming back?”
“She said about three hours.” He glanced at his watch. “Two hours, now. Give or take. Why don’t you sit?”
Merryn nodded, lowering herself into the chair he just vacated.
Damien went to the mini fridge under the desk and pulled out a can of cola. “Here. You need some sugar.” He popped the top and handed it to her, watching as she took a swig.
“There. Better?”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” A sound met his ears and he felt the wards on the building twinge. He glanced out the front window and found two pairs of red eyes observing him through the glass.
“Well, hell’s bells.”
“What?” Merryn set the can down and stood, joining him in the doorway.
“They're here.” She stepped back and stumbled into his arms, her face pressed against his chest. She stayed that way, and he held her, cursing inwardly at whatever was making her afraid. His eyes burned and he shook his head, clearing his focus. He had to take care of her now. If they tried to get inside, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. He pulled her into the back room and moved the curtain out of the way, locking the door behind them.
“The wards will hold.”
“What if they break the glass?”
“They won’t. Anyone eyes as gorgeous as yours should never be afraid.” He pulled her glasses off and set them on the counter. He had to get her mind on something else.
Merryn squirmed out of his arms, nervously brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You don't need to do whatever this is. I'll be fine.”
“Whatever this is?” He raised an eyebrow, the smile falling from his face. “I know pretty when I see it.”
“I'm not pretty, and don’t you dare try to distract me with… Oh, hell. Fine. I don’t want your pity just because I’m freaked out, okay?” She crossed her arms and turned her back to him, but not before he could see the hurt on her face.
Shit. He did that.
Damn it to hell.
“Stop.”
“What?” She turned to face him, tears shimmering in her eyes. �
��It’s been a tough night, okay? Just leave me alone.”
“No. You’ve been avoiding me since the first day I walked in here. Why?”
“You’re a lust demon.” Merryn looked away, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
“And you’re a witch. I’ve been trying to ask you out and every time I try to strike up a conversation with you I get the icicle treatment.”
“I’m not going to be a notch on your bedpost,” she snapped, shoving at his chest. “I’ve seen how you flirt with every girl who walks in here. I’m not stupid.”
Good. She wasn’t afraid anymore. That was a start. He preferred her angry. That frightened look on her face tore at his heart.
“Yes you are.” He caught her hands before she could pull back. “I’ve been needling you for months, trying to get your attention. Now, why do you think that is?”
Merryn tugged, trying to break free. “You’re a pain in the ass? And I am not stupid.”
“You’re book smart. There’s a difference. But I’m thinking of giving you some extracurricular pointers.” Damien crushed his lips to hers, forcing her mouth apart, teasing her with his tongue. Damien backed her up to the counter, the hardness of his body pressed against the softness of hers. His cock strained against his zipper and he was fairly sure it was going to leave an imprint in his flesh. He feathered kisses down the side of her face and groaned into her hair.
She pulled away, blinking her eyes.
“What are you doing?” She asked breathlessly, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Your eyes are glowing.”
“Making my point. I’m sure they are.” He stepped back and let her see the effect she had on him. “This. This is what you do to me.”
Chapter Three
Merryn stared at him, every inch of her body on fire. Incredulous, she shook her head. “But you’re you and I’m me.” His eyes burned with savage fire, and the erection pressing against his jeans illustrated the point he was so eloquently trying to make.
“I want you. I have from the first moment I met you.”
“But I’m…”
“Exactly.” Damien tugged her forward and ran his fingers down the side of her face. “So sexy…” He kissed her, his hand reaching up to cup her breast.
Merryn groaned, giving in to the warmth enveloping her. His nearness was overwhelming and what he was doing to her with his hands, magic. She was shocked at her own response to his kisses but powerless to resist.
She tingled as he whispered her name, easing her back against the counter. In a blur her sweater was over her head and her bra joined it. She felt the snap on her jeans give and he eased the denim down her legs, her panties following soon after.
“That’s better.”
How could he possibly think that? Her curves had been nothing but a problem from day one.
Her mouth dry, she watched as he unfastened the top snap on his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, releasing his cock.
“I can’t wait any more. Come here.”
He grasped her hand and tugged her forward, her bare skin against the warmth of him. “Never doubt how gorgeous you are.” He claimed her lips in a raw act of possession, his eyes meeting hers.
Damien’s hands roamed her body and he knelt down pressing his lips against her stomach, trailing kisses down to her mound. “Let me love you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning back against the counter. She didn’t want to fight it anymore. Hypnotized by his touch, she all but sizzled beneath his fingertips.
He stood and moved between her thighs, his cock edging at her entrance. In one swift movement he was inside of her and his lips found hers again, hard and searching.
“Goddess,” she hissed.
“Come with me.” He pulled her to the edge of the counter and began to thrust.
The musky scent of him as he held her close drove Merryn wild and she nipped at his neck, spurring him onward.
“So my little bookworm has some bite after all.”
Damien picked her up, sliding deeper inside and carried her into Bridget’s inner sanctum. He tenderly laid her down on the couch and his hand brushed her hardened nipples. He bent over Merryn, his hips moving with a primal energy, passion climbing, her need for him overpowering everything else.
Waves of ecstasy filtered through her and she dimly wondered if he was stealing part of her soul. Then she decided it was worth it as her body exploded into a million bursts of star fire. Electric shocks thrummed through her and she couldn’t control her cries of delight as she soared upward into a shuddering bout of bliss.
He groaned against her, his own release upon him as the hot tide of their hunger burned through them both, leaving her gasping in his arms as they came down together.
Damien looked down at her and she smiled lazily, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. “We’re going to do that again. In a bed.”
“I hope so. I think I have a book shoved under my backside.” Merryn giggled as he reached down to kiss her nose.
The sound of the door to the back offices being unlocked, and a host of unladylike cursing, met their ears as Bridget came through, her eyes blazing fire.
“Alright… who’s idea was it to lock the…” She stopped, opened her mouth and shut it. “I’ll be out front.”
A flustered grin covered Damien’s face as he righted himself and helped her up. “I think we surprised her.”
“Um. Yeah.” A giggle escaped and Merryn reached over and kissed him.
“What was that for?”
“Everything.”
Damien knelt down and plucked her clothes from the floor. “Your panties, milady.”
“Thanks.” Merryn grinned, slipping her legs into the pant legs of her jeans. “They’re coming off again as soon as we talk to Bridget.” Her smile slipped a bit when she thought about what they needed to talk about, but the calm his touch had instilled in her made her fall for him just a little bit more.
“Deal.” He helped her up and pressed a kiss to her lips. “My bed, or yours?”
Malediction
Curse Workers Book Two
Prologue
Salem, June 10, 1692
The rough hemp noose chaffed Bridget’s neck and she swallowed, gazing out at the townsfolk in their cheerless black garb. Like carrion crows after the slaughter, they gathered at the gallows, waiting for her to swing. Even her husband and daughter believed the lies they spoke of her. They’d turned their backs when she’d needed them the most. That she could not forgive. Even her friends and neighbors moved against her when the accusations began to fly hot and heavy as any witch hunter’s midnight imaginings.
Harlot. Witch. Temptress. The Devil’s strumpet.
They forgot their visits to her for council in matters of the heart or a barren womb. Her flesh bore the marks of their bartering. With each curse she wound a mark on her skin, like a beacon of guilt for those who hunted her. There, behind the frenzy of the crowd, stood the still figure of a man dressed entirely in white. His unruly nest of pale blond hair fluttered in the wind, his lips compressed into a thin line. The man flexed and she spied the breadth of his wings expand and contract.
Feathers.
Had the powers that be come for her then? Was he the angel of death come to put her in her grave? So be it. She would be there soon enough. Bridget raised her chin and sought out his eyes.
“I am no coward, you bastards,” she whispered. Her gaze shifted to Cotton Mather and her band of accusers. John and William Bly stood far enough away, their hate filled eyes waiting with anticipation of her hanging. All because of a cat. The feline had been dual natured and, after her spat with the creature, the cat was found dead. No doubt by Bly’s own hand, with her as the perfect scape goat.
The cat, Beatrice, was a shifter and planned to reveal her truth—that she was the boy’s mother. The likelihood was high that he killed her before she could reveal his sin—and hers—and cast them all under suspicion for having dealings with the devil. What other orig
in could a being have who could change forms?
How indeed. Her lips twisted at the foul nature of men’s hearts when all the woman wanted was to be loved. It was all any woman wanted, whether witch or cat or human. She’d heard the cries within their heart of hearts and knew it firsthand. If only she could have chosen more wisely for her own sake.
Her stomach, already filled with fluttering moths, felt like it was filled with angry bees. She looked to the blond man and shivered, his visage filling her with fear. No good had come from seeing him before and she doubted any would come now.
Bridget’s mouth grew dry as she recalled other instances where she had seen the stranger in white. Cold and unfeeling, he’d ignored her, leaving each occasion with only a single white feather to mark his passing. She’d pleaded with him the first time he’d come to wait outside her cell, but he only watched, unspeaking. Now, there he stood passing judgement when no crime was committed save the ugliness of the truth.
“Witch! Hang her! Burn her!”
It would have been fine but for the spiteful actions of the five girls responsible for her current predicament. Their accusations were attributed to grain induced madness, but here she stood about to swing from a noose for their selfishness. She would be the first in Salem, and a fool not to see the seriousness sooner. Bridget had been hated for so long it hardly mattered now. But for Edward, her husband, to leave as her sentence was delivered was the betrayal that struck more deeply than any other.
The rest didn’t matter.
A love spell for another woman’s husband. A bag of money to barter for a life uncontrolled by a father’s hand. A spell to make a woman barren so another could take her place. And so on. Greed. Envy. Lust. None of those things befitted the proper young women of their rank, but that mattered little. Her refusal to acquiesce to their demands met with cold smiles and the fevered response of girls holding on to the last vestiges of their sanity.
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 144