To Hell and Back [Werewolves and Wizards of West End 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  Sometimes she wondered if her love for him was real or a result of that spell.

  Swallowing hard, she eased away then turned to confront them. Holding her head high, she shoved her hurt feelings down, irritating her inner wolf, which clawed to get out and run off her pain. “Okay, so I screwed things up today. But it doesn’t change the fact that you three are taking way too long to make her yours.”

  “My sis has got us there.” Morgan grinned, relieved. “But at least now she’s got to know we want her.”

  “That’s for sure,” added Samuel. “So what’s next? Do we track her down and make her ours?”

  “No.” Damian walked past Reagan, his fingers skimming her arm, a touch to give comfort and ask forgiveness for a wrong he’d never committed. “We don’t want to send her running again.”

  Reagan crossed her arms, forcing away an urge to touch him. “Well get to it. She’s already my sister, but I want you guys to make it official. Get off your asses and get it done. In the meantime, I have more important things to do than sit around and babysit you three.”

  Pivoting around, she headed for the door. She barely made it outside before wiping away another tear.

  * * * *

  How could she be happy and terrified at the same time? And yet, that was how Brooklyn felt as she hurried down the main street of West End, taking a moment here and there to say hello to friends she hadn’t seen in three years.

  “Hey, Brooklyn, how’s it going?” Sheriff Martin Benedict raised his hand in greeting as he crossed the street. He wore a shiny silver badge on his chest, but that was primarily for the tourists. They liked the idea of a small-town law officer so he played the part. But Benedict was no simple actor playing a part. As a human, he’d stepped into a tough job, often becoming a mediator between shifters, vampires, and the rest of the townspeople. If there was any man she respected as much as Damian, Samuel, and Morgan, it was Martin Benedict.

  “I’m doing great. How are you? Are you winning the good fight against evil?” She shaded her eyes and looked up at the six-foot-five-inch man with the wide-brim hat.

  “I do my best.” He tipped his hat back, putting a little shadow on her face.

  “That’s good to know. So is there something you needed?” If people kept stopping her, she’d never make it to the Pick-It-Up-and-Go Market and Pharmacy. Horace had been nice enough to stock a few things in her pantry, but she needed a lot more. Especially if she invited the men to dinner. But would she? Did she dare? Or should she let them make the next move?

  “Brooklyn, did you hear me?”

  “Sorry. I guess I spaced out for a second.”

  “This isn’t my usual thing and I don’t like to butt in, but if I have one more person ask me, I’m going to go crazy.”

  “Ask you what?”

  He looked apologetic yet continued. “You know I don’t like gossip, and usually I’d tell everyone to mind their own business—and I have—but—”

  “But?”

  “I have to admit I’m curious, too.”

  “About what?” Her time away? Some women had already asked her if she’d had sexual romps with men in Europe. Too bad she’d had to disappoint them. She’d concentrated on her studies and trying to forget about the men she’d left behind.

  “When are you and the guys going to get together?”

  She blinked. Had the sheriff actually asked her about her love life?

  “Seriously? The guys?”

  “Shit. I’d shut up right now except that I’m knee deep in it already. The guys. Damian, Morgan, and Samuel.”

  “Oh, I knew who you meant. I just can’t believe you’re asking me.”

  “Damn it. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” He pushed his hat lower and started to turn away.

  “I don’t know.” She should’ve kept quiet, but there it was, out in the open.

  He glanced around, took her arm, and pulled her closer. “You don’t know? Word has it that you were out to their ranch yesterday. They’ve never had any women at the ranch.”

  “I’ve been there hundreds of times. It’s not unusual.”

  “Sure. As Reagan’s friend, but something tells me, hell, the whole town, that yesterday was different. So?”

  She resisted the urge to tease him. Yet, wasn’t he acting like a teenage girl? “Okay, fine. Yes, I was there. But nothing happened.” Thanks to Reagan.

  “Oh.”

  “You seem disappointed.” Was everyone rooting for them to get together?

  “Nah.” He shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  “Sheriff, how does everyone know about…?” She glanced around and caught several people watching, even moving closer. With shifter hearing, they could pick up their conversation from a sizeable distance.

  “Of course they do. You and the men have been town fodder since you were teens. Most of us expected you to get together at some point. In fact, we’re pretty damn sure you came back because of them.”

  “I came back because this is my home.”

  “Even after your folks sold out and move back to the mainland?”

  “Of course.”

  He eyed her speculatively. “Then why rent? Why not buy? I hear Reg Cumbalt’s place is up for sale. Or are you planning on moving in with the men?”

  She gaped at him. “I just got back. Give a girl some time, will you?”

  He closed his eyes, shook his head, and then opened them. “Brooklyn, I swear some witch must’ve put a spell on me. I can’t believe I’m asking you these kinds of questions. Damn it. I sound like some old woman gossiping with her knitting circle.” Clearing his throat, he stepped back, straightening to his full height and adopting a more professional stance. “Forget everything I asked. It’s a spell. It’s got to be.”

  “Okay. Sure.” She’d rarely seen him rattled. Still, the idea of a spell wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. Witches liked playing jokes, especially on those in authority positions. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He nodded, turned, then turned back. “Although, you four getting together wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

  “Sheriff Benedict!”

  “Shit. Sorry.” He spun around and almost ran into Mrs. Flynn, who had managed to work her way closer and closer. “Mrs. Flynn, let’s keep our noses out of her business.” Taking the flabbergasted werecat’s arm, he steered her away from Brooklyn.

  * * * *

  “I didn’t do a damn thing to your coffee.” Cathy Dandis picked up the mug and threw it at Sherri Sanderson.

  “The blazes you didn’t.” Sherri ducked the throw easily. Too bad the young tourist couple behind them didn’t move as fast. The husband blocked the cup from striking his new bride’s head but ended up with coffee splashed all over his shirt and pants. Thankfully, the coffee wasn’t hot. “I know how you witches are. You and your pranks. And they say faeries are the ones who pull shenanigans.”

  Brooklyn sucked in a hard breath and checked the rest of the diner’s customers. The locals barely gave any attention to the squabble between Cathy and Sherri, but the tourists were enthralled. And why shouldn’t they? They loved hearing about the magical people of West End. But to actually see two of them? Well, that made the long excursion to the island well worth it.

  Brooklyn, however, wasn’t amused. With Miranda running an errand, she was in charge of the diner. Charlie the cook wasn’t about to leave the safety of the kitchen. The last time he’d tried breaking up a Cathy-Sherri fight, the witch had cursed him with frogs in his bed and the faerie had pestered him relentlessly until he’d made a public apology. No, she was on her own.

  “Okay, ladies, let’s calm down. Sherri, Cathy didn’t do anything to your coffee.” She was taking her life into her hands by putting her body between the two women, but what other choice did she have? She sure didn’t want to call the sheriff in. He might start getting nosy again.

  “Then how do you explain the taste?” Sherri’s bright blue eyes, the color of most faery eyes, glared
at the witch.

  “I told you. I didn’t do a damn thing to it.” Cathy was adamant, refusing to back down.

  “How about I get both of you anything you want? On the house.” She’d do whatever she had to do to placate them, even if it meant dipping into her paycheck in case Miranda didn’t like her offer.

  “Not a chance,” sniffed Sherri. “I want an apology.”

  Cathy was incensed. “For what? I told you, you little mosquito, I didn’t put a potion in your coffee.” She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Although, now that you mention it, you could use something to make you prettier. And here I thought all faeries were supposed to be charming with their round faces and colorful wings.”

  Sherri gasped. “We’re a sight prettier than you old hags.” She peered at her opponent. “Where’d your warts go, witch? Or are you casting an illusion spell?”

  Oh hell. Shut up. Pulease.

  Brooklyn couldn’t let them go on. “Ladies, please stop.”

  Cathy, however, wasn’t one to lose an argument. She lifted her arm, ready to cast a spell. “Fly away, gnat. In fact, let me help you along your way.”

  Brooklyn didn’t think. Instead, she threw up her arms and jumped toward the witch, protecting the smaller faerie.

  The next moment she landed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her. Slumping to the floor, she tried to stop her head from spinning.

  “Look what you did!” cried Sherri.

  A horrified Cathy gaped at Brooklyn. “I’m sorry.” But her horror soon morphed into anger as she whirled to face Sherri. “See what you made me do?”

  Even the regular customers were watching now. The tourists, however, were on their feet, stunned yet delighted at the spectacle.

  “Knock it off, everyone.”

  Brooklyn blinked her eyes several times then managed to focus on the huge man who’d taken hold of both the witch and the faerie. Morgan wrapped an arm around each of them, lifted them off their feet, then carried the protesting women out the front door.

  “Are you all right, baby?”

  Brooklyn lifted her gaze to Samuel, who bent next to her. “Baby?”

  Worry etched his brow. “Answer the question. Are you all right?” He took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet.

  “I think so.” Aside from her shoulders where she’d struck the wall, she’d be fine.

  “Good. But to be sure, let’s head to the back.”

  She allowed him to steer her through the tables and toward the short hallway leading to the office and storage rooms. “What about the people? How will we explain what happened?”

  “Damian’s handling things.”

  Damian’s voice drifted on the air. “How about giving a hand to our performers? The show was really something, wasn’t it? I’ll bet you didn’t even notice the harness lifting her into the air.”

  “See? By the time he gets finished, he’ll have them believing it was all an act. Even if he has to pull a vamp thing to do it.”

  She leaned against Samuel, loving his steadying, solid form. Although she’d seen squabbles between other supernaturals, even shifter fights that had grown violent, she’d never been caught in the middle of one.

  “What about Cathy and Sherri?” Into Miranda’s office they went, with him settling her onto the couch.

  “Morgan’s got them handled. For now, let’s worry about you. Are you sure you’re all right? You hit that wall pretty hard.”

  She rolled her shoulders and winced. “I’ll be a little sore maybe, but nothing’s really bad.” Placing her palm on his broad shoulder, she added, “Thanks to you guys. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

  “Don’t you know better than to get between a faerie and a witch?” His chastisement was softened by his smile.

  “I guess not. But what was I supposed to do? Let them tear up the diner? Or, worse, hurt some poor, innocent tourist?”

  “All I care about is your safety.”

  The sweetness of his words, words she’d longed to hear for most of her life, swept the right response from her. Instead of telling him how much she loved him and his friends, she said, “What were you three doing here anyway?”

  He’d expected an answer of a more personal nature. “We were walking by when Morgan heard the noise. I’m glad we were around to help out.”

  He’d leaned away from her. Had he mentally leaned away, too? Keeping him at a distance was the last thing she wanted. “Samuel?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  Baby. Apparently, she hadn’t pushed him too far away. “About…you know.”

  “We didn’t mean to push too hard, too fast.”

  “No. It’s not that.” Did they think they’d scare her away? Yet why shouldn’t they when she’d hightailed it out of there like a frightened bunny?

  “Then what?” He eased closer, simultaneously comforting her and making her fidget.

  “I guess I never realized that you three thought of me in those terms.”

  “Like a woman?”

  She couldn’t risk staring into those blue eyes any longer and cast her gaze downward. “Well, yes.”

  “Because you’ve always been Reagan’s friend, kind of like another sister to us?”

  Their talk wasn’t going the direction she’d hoped. She didn’t want him thinking of her like a sister. “Yes.” Yet this time her tone held little hope.

  “Baby?”

  “Yes?” She could hear her heart, hear her all-too-loud breaths. Was this the moment she’d been dreaming of?

  “We don’t think of you like a sister any longer. I’m not sure when we stopped doing that. Maybe when we saw you get on the ferry and leave three years ago, or maybe every time we joined in on a Skype chat with Reagan. Whenever it happened doesn’t matter. Once we saw you again, we knew. You’re not our sister. Instead, without us realizing it full-on until the other day, we’d started looking at you as any man would look at a beautiful woman.”

  She was so thrilled she could cry. Thankfully, instead, the wash of emotion swept through her in an entirely different way. “Do Morgan and Damian feel the same way?”

  “Damn straight they do.” Morgan’s large body filled the doorway.

  A moment later, Damian pushed his friend aside, making room for him. “Is she okay?” He’d asked Samuel then directed his question to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I’m better than I could ever say.

  “How about Cathy and Sherri?” asked Samuel.

  “They’re both headed home.” Morgan’s worried look morphed into a scowl. “The witch is lucky I didn’t rip her arm off. What the hell was she thinking throwing our girl against the wall?”

  Our girl. Yes, please.

  “She didn’t mean to throw me. I got in the way.”

  “Yeah, well, she’d better lay low and stay out of sight if she knows what’s good for her,” warned Morgan.

  Brooklyn wasn’t worried. Morgan’s growl was far worse than his bite. Unless, of course, someone actually tried to hurt someone they loved.

  Like me? Oh my, like me.

  “All of us want you, sweetness. No doubt about it.”

  “I can’t believe this.” And yet what they were telling her felt so real, so right. Even though she’d physically come home, she hadn’t felt as though she were really home until now.

  “Does that mean you feel the same way about us?” Morgan stalked over and took up most of the couch next to her. “Say it outright.”

  Could she? Hadn’t she practiced saying I love you to them so many times before? Yet a part of her had feared she’d never get the chance. “Okay, I will. I love you, Morgan.” The smile forming grew wider as she shifted her gaze to one then the others. “I love you, Damian. And I love you, too, Samuel. I always have.”

  Samuel pulled her against him, beating Morgan to it. His lips crushed hers even as her smile stayed, hearing Morgan’s growl. Samuel’s hand cupped the back of her neck, keeping her w
ith him. Not that she ever wanted to move away. No, she’d stayed connected in every way possible for as long as he’d let her.

  Hands skimmed over her body. She sensed Damian standing close by, but with Samuel’s probing tongue exploring its way into her mouth, the best she could was to hold on to his shoulders. She was thankful she was sitting down. If she hadn’t, the heat surging from him into her would’ve burned her legs out from underneath her. Was it magic? Perhaps. But wasn’t love the greatest magic of all?

  Morgan brushed Samuel’s hand from her neck then nibbled at her skin. He played with her bottom, cupping both cheeks. Hot breath tantalized her flesh then slid lower. They pinned her between them, a soft cushion against two hard rocks.

  The only thing missing was Damian’s touch.

  Samuel’s kiss became more urgent. He slipped his hands under her shirt then under her bra, his fingers teasing her nipples, making them grow taut and firm. She arched her back, begging him to replace fingers with teeth.

  “If he won’t give you what you need, sweetness, then let me.” Damian took hold of her arm and tugged her away.

  She cried out, protesting Samuel and Morgan releasing her. Yet when her breasts pressed against Damian’s strong chest, she protested no longer. His silver eyes had grown metallic, piercing her. If he wanted to compel her, he’d be wasting his time. She was already compelled.

  His eyes were amazing, but his kiss was so much more. Tender at first then swiftly growing more insistent, his kiss was the stuff of fantasies. She leaned against him, letting him support her.

  “No way is he taking control.” Morgan’s voice was deeper than normal, lust-filled.

  “Agreed, werewolf,” added Samuel.

  They surrounded her, their hands caressing her as surely as their soft words did. She moaned as they undid her shirt, unclasped her bra. Her jeans fell to the floor, and someone pulled her flats off her feet.