The way the witch trade had taken off in Salem, it would have been a little difficult to explain her married name. It made her laugh, really. How such a horrible event that almost killed her could become the tourist trap of the century made her eyes roll.
But, she worked with it. Broomstix was booming and she had no lack of business for curses. Need to put a hex on a co-worker who was stealing from your desk? She was your girl. Love spell for the hottie who made your toes curl just looking at him? Got it. Need to find a set of lost keys? She could do that, too. It all worked, little by little, into the designs inked into her body, creating a visual display some of the best tattoo artists in town would kill to recreate. Bridget didn’t mind. It added to her mystery. The more people that came to her shop the better.
Added bonus? It infuriated Charity Hobbs.
Even better.
Lost in her thoughts, Bridget wandered through the crowd and headed for the punch bowl. Liquor was out. She wanted to be in control tonight, especially if she was going to leave without Isabel. Something as decidedly mundane as punch sounded right up her alley. She nodded at the woman ladling out the red liquid and took a small cup from the tray.
“I wouldn’t drink the punch if I were you.” A masculine voice whispered close to her ear.
“Excuse me?” Bridget stepped away, nearly spilling the drink. He stood next to her with dark eyes and an amused expression that tilted his lips up at the edges. Most of his face was hidden beneath a basic black mask, his long dark hair drawn back in a small ponytail.
“It’s spiked.”
“Really? What did you put in it?”
He held up his hands and laughed. “Whoa. Not me. My buddy, Jessup, makes a joke out of pouring every kind of booze he can get his hands on into the stuff. I’m just guarding it. For a second, I thought you were the same woman who’d been over here a couple of times. Let’s just say she’s wearing your dress.”
“I think I saw her,” Bridget replied drily.
“You might want to grab a bottle of water instead.”
Bridget nodded, placing the cup down and exchanging it for one of the small bottled waters on the end of the table.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It’s always better to stick with something bottled or a glass of champagne at events like this, unless you want to find yourself in a compromising situation with a stranger.”
Butterflies fluttered in Bridget’s stomach. He was flirting with her. She swallowed and looked into his eyes. The wicked twinkle in them made her smile. Maybe, just maybe, she could flirt back and like it.
“I think it’s only compromising if you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t you agree?”
The dangerous looking stranger smiled and, for one second, she thought she saw the moon shining in his eyes. He could be the Big Bad Wolf all he wanted. She was no Little Red Riding Hood and fairy tale endings weren’t in her kind of spell book. But, a night in his arms… that was something she might consider.
A spark of attraction moved between them and, for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was indeed a shifter. Her kind always had a fascination with animals, but she’d never found one she could really bond with as her familiar. No. That wasn’t true. She’d had a small black dog once in Salem, but one of her neighbors had poisoned it. She was heartbroken. Not long after that the trials began and she had bigger things to worry over. But, if the man in front of her wanted to be her lap dog for the night, who was she to argue.
“Yes. I quite agree.” He held her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm and she sighed, falling into his gaze.
Her toes curled and she was lost. Mmmm. Maybe Isabel had spelled the shoes, but she didn’t care. If it kept up like this, she might not be wearing them for very long.
Chapter Six
Alistair spotted the gorgeous brunette across the room and, when she approached the refreshment table, he followed. For a millisecond he’d taken her for the scrawny woman in the red dress, but on closer inspection he was pleased to note the differences. Same dress, but the way this woman wore it, he was tempted to peel it from her, inch by scrumptious inch.
His pack mate had poured a few bottles of something into the punch and, while it was entertaining to watch some of the guests succumb to the antics of the season, he didn’t quite feel the same about the sexy female in front of him. This woman would be far more interesting sober, he had a hunch and his predictions usually turned out to be spot on. The markings on her arms intrigued him and he wondered if they covered more of her body. Like tendrils of smoke curling around her flesh, they spiraled around her skin in an unending pattern, giving him the urge to trace every single one and see where it led.
He should be home at Briarwood, but his duties as Beta brought him here to make sure Jessup didn’t get too out of hand. So far the pup had been a bit mischievous, but nothing that would make him worry. Whatever concerns he had melted when he gazed at the beauty in front of him, his animal taking control.
Serious gray eyes winked at him from behind an elegant lacy black mask and he had the urge to peek beneath it to see what she was hiding. Full lips bowed below the mask, and her mass of dark hair was wound into an up-do that he longed to plunge his fingers into while he explored her mouth with his.
Jesus, Alistair. Get a grip.
His wolf perked up when she’d come into view and his instinct to bed her followed in quick succession. He shook it off with a frown. One night stands were not his style, especially with women he didn’t know. He had other concerns and, as soon as he made sure Jessup wasn’t going to fuck up and intoxicate half of the wealthier citizens of Salem, he was out of here. Duncan was still missing and he’d left Laurel in charge in his stead.
But, her eyes. Fuck. They fairly glowed with a power that socked him in the gut as they watched him from behind the mask. When she wet her lips and took her bottom lip between her teeth, he almost lost the battle with himself not to let his beast take over and drag her into the nearest coat closet.
“Are you here with someone?” He cleared his throat, aware of the growl threading through his voice.
“No. Are you?”
“Just a couple of friends. What do you think? Want to end up in a compromising situation with a stranger?” He grinned and, seeing Jessup approach, steered her away from the refreshment table. Alistair wanted her to himself, at least for a little while.
“Seven deadly sins? How about a dance? With my footwork, that could lead towards all kinds of infractions.”
“Hmm.” He swung her into his arms and into the crowd, relishing the sensation of his hand on her lower back. The plunging view offered by her bodice made his body stand at attention and the wolf beneath his skin whined with want. “So, which deadly sin could you possibly have that would sink a guy faster than lust? That dress…”
“These shoes.”
“Oh, but those… those are not a sin. Not at all. In fact, I could look at them all night long.”
“You could, could you?” The woman laughed, deep and sensual. Her eyes snapped with amusement. “Then you try wearing them.”
“Maybe I will.” He wanted her, and the closer they got, the more obvious it was going to become. He weaved her around the dance floor, her movements matching his. Her perfume and the spicy scent of her hair were making it hard to concentrate. At the look in her eyes, he dragged her back hard against him, his animal wild in his blood.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Please.”
“Let’s get some air.” Alistair led her out onto the balcony, the twinkle lights flickered making the grounds outside the hotel look enchanted. He had to clear his head.
“Who are you?” Alistair brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“I’m just a girl who needs an escape from reality. How about you?”
“Same here.”
“Just a girl, huh?” The mystery woman smiled.
He gathered her into his arms, le
tting her feel the full force of his arousal. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling much like a girl right now.”
“No. I didn’t think you were.” She leaned into his embrace, her lips curving up in an inviting smile.
“What’s your name?”
“Bridget. Yours?”
“Alistair.”
“Well, Alistair. It’s nice to meet you. I have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“How long is it going to take for you to kiss me?”
“Time me.” Alistair’s mouth covered hers hungrily and he forced her mouth open with his thrusting tongue. She gasped, trembling within his embrace and he pulled her deeper into the shadows, away from prying eyes.
“How’s that?”
“Oh, I’d say it’s a good start,” Bridget panted, her pupils wide with desire. “What is it about you? I can’t stop myself…”
“I’m having the same problem.” He wanted her, pure and simple. She groaned as he took her lips with savage intensity and slid his hand between them to cup her right breast. The mound was dangerously close to tumbling from the bodice, and when he moved it just so, the hardened tip of her nipple was exposed.
She sucked in a gasp and her head rolled back as he lowered his mouth to capture the rosy peak between his teeth. He gave her a little nip. She yelped and he caught her as she swayed on her feet.
“I think we should take this inside.”
“Do you have a room?”
“Yes. Come with me.” He tugged her dress up and led her back inside, through the glittering throng and to the elevator. Pressing the button, he swept her inside as the doors opened, immediately covering her lips with his once more.
Chapter Seven
Bridget followed Alistair down the hallway, her blood thrumming through her veins. She didn’t do this. Ever. The butterflies in her stomach began to fling themselves apart so hard that she almost turned tail and ran. Then he stopped, and looked into her eyes, and she was lost all over again.
He unlocked the room and opened the door for her, waiting for her response.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.” She followed him inside and felt passion rising inside of her like the hottest fire clouding her brain.
As soon as the door was shut Alistair pulled her against him. He kissed her in a raw act of possession and she surrendered completely to his masterful seduction. Hands slid along her back, cupping her backside and sliding around to the front of her. He cupped her mound through the dress and Bridget nearly swooned, lost in the spell he wove over her.
“Do you want this? I won’t stop once I start, so I need you to tell me now.”
Passion radiated from the soft places inside of her body and all Bridget wanted to do was give in to the burning sweetness held captive inside of her. Her body began to vibrate and the fire burning inside of her ignited.
“Yes. I want this.” Bridget reached behind her, the sound of the zipper sliding down her back and the silence of the room gave her a feeling of hysteria clouded with uncontrollable joy.
She let the dress slip down her body. It pooled on the floor, leaving her in only the cranberry red heels and a wisp of black lace panties.
His eyes devoured her hungrily and she stepped toward him, her hands running down the front of his dress shirt, feeling the muscles buried beneath the fabric.
“Your tux.”
Alistair slid off the jacket and laid it on a nearby chair, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. With expert hands, he undid his pants, sliding them down his legs to reveal his muscular thighs.
In a quick movement he removed his briefs, freeing his member to her gaze. Bridget moved toward him, desire swirling through her belly. She was fully aware of his hardness brushing against her, eager to feel him inside of her.
Her body ached for his touch and her desire for him overrode everything else. The heat of his body coursed down the length of hers and, as he eased her back to the bed, she forgot everything but the need to have him inside her.
Hypnotized by his touch, she never dreamed she would be this mesmerized by every stroke of his fingertips as he mapped the lines of her flesh. The sound of a foil wrapper distracted her momentarily, but when he placed a kiss on her mound, a wave of passion flooded into her heart.
“So beautiful.” He traced the spiral markings of her curse lines and parted her thighs. He edged his cock inside her slick opening and entered her with one quick thrust.
Bridget groaned, the sensation of being filled and stretched to capacity making her eyes roll back in her head. Her body thrummed and they found a tempo that bound them together, her witch senses reaching up and claiming him as hers.
Familiar.
Her eyes opened as sweet waves of ecstasy flooded through her body. Her nipples rubbed against his chest hair as he thrust into her one last time, his grunt of satisfaction leaving her breathless. Alistair looked down on her, the light of the moon shining in his eyes, and she knew without a doubt that nothing would ever be the same again.
She allowed him to remove her mask and he kissed the top of her nose. He reached up and pulled his off, the elastic band snapping as he tore it from his face. She reached up and slid her hand along his oh-so-sexy cheekbones, burning his face into her memory.
“Gorgeous.” She murmured, taking it a step further and pulling out the band from his hair so that it framed his face.
“Not as pretty as you.” He kissed her once again and pulled her close, their breathing becoming as one.
As her body succumbed to fatigue and she curled around him in sleep, two thoughts edged their way past her post-coital bliss. She had just made love to a wolf and all of the curses shivered along the surface of her skin as if they’d been waiting for him her entire life. She buried her face into the side of his neck, taking in the woodsy scent of him and smiled. Who said wolves and witches didn’t mix? It was an old wives-tale and now she knew it for the falsehood it was. Confusing and intoxicating—true, but Bridget decided she didn’t care. Alistair shifted, wrapping his arms around her and, for the first time in a long while, she slept.
***
Something woke him from his slumber. The warmth of Bridget’s form against him made Alistair hard all over again. He’d fallen into her eyes the moment they’d looked his way and, from the moment he sunk inside her warm body, he knew he was done for. The flash of witch fire in her gaze had only confirmed it.
He was well and truly fucked.
She moaned and moved against him, her hand brushing his cock. He throbbed and the urge to take her once more nearly overwhelmed him.
Her eyes opened and her hand tightened on his member.
“You’re here.” Her hand slid up his length and he bit back an oath.
“Bridget.”
“No talking. Not yet.” She released him and moved alongside his body so the tip of him touched her opening. “Please…”
He was inside her in one stroke, the velvet walls of her channel fitting around him like a glove.
“God.” He drew her up onto her knees and gripped her hips, slamming into her. Her breasts hung low and he reached beneath her, teasing and pinching her nipples until she arched against him, the flood of her passion easing his movement within her.
His wolf came to the surface and he growled, filling her with his body and, as her own spasmed and she jerked beneath him, he gave way to the beast inside. Reaching down, he pumped his hips, emptying his seed into her, his teeth finding purchase in the soft flesh of her shoulder.
Bridget cried out once more, her body clenching around him as she bucked and writhed beneath him, sinking down onto her stomach on the mattress.
“Oh…” She moaned and he grew hard once more.
“What are you doing to me?” He whispered throatily, nuzzling her back with his face. She shivered against his unshaven stubble and he felt her pulse quicken in kind.
“You bit me.”
“I did.” Shit. He had. Her blood was sweet on
his lips and the thought of it had him thrusting within her, the fire reawakened in his blood. “And I’m going to do it again.”
“Ugh… if I let you.” Bridget groaned and arched against him, her body matching him thrust for thrust.
“Come here.” He withdrew, urging her up. “Now, ride me.” He reclined on the bed, his cock glistening with her juices.
Hair tousled and her lipstick smeared from sleep and his kisses, she looked imminently fuckable.
“I’ve never…”
“I’ll help you.” He guided her up and over him, and she lowered her body till the tip of him settled at her entrance. “Now, center yourself onto me.”
She complied, sinking down on his shaft. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and when she rocked against him, he almost tipped over the edge once more.
Alistair grit his teeth and let Bridget find her way, hips rolling over him. Each slight movement teased them closer to the precipice and he bucked beneath her, grinding into her as far as he could go. She shuddered against him, her breasts bouncing as she cried out her release and he soon followed, rolling her over onto her back as he sank into her one last time.
He pulled away and this time when he fell asleep with her tucked under his chin there were no dreams—only Bridget’s soft contented snores.
Chapter Eight
Bridget took the steps quickly and carefully down into the cellar of the Witch Council’s meeting place. An old building it, like her, had been around since the beginning. She smiled at the familiar stones, knowing which ones were hell on the ankles and which ones were still loose and needed repair. Bridget sighed and shook her head. She would bring it up again this month. One day, someone was going to break their neck. She was sure tomorrow’s meeting in the square would be the primary conversation after they got done roasting her for missing their social event of the year.
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