by Jen Talty
She gasped, catching his gaze, but soon relaxed as she mimicked his movements. Before she knew it, her breathing had returned to normal.
But not her pulse.
Nor her raging desire to shove her tongue between his luscious lips.
Now that wouldn’t be lady-like at all.
Fucking werewolves.
“Come on.” He stood, tugging at her hand. “Let’s get out of here.” He curled his fingers around her bicep.
“No one is telling me what to do or where to go.”
He glared at her for a long moment, the sun hitting his eyes, making the kaleidoscope of colors glimmer. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had only a few hours to process us being in a movie together. We start rehearsing next week, and the only thing I really know about you is what I’ve seen in the newspapers, and that is very little since I’ve tried like hell not to know anything about your family.”
“I don’t think that’s a compliment.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, following him to the rear parking lot, which was totally empty other than one black, soft-top Jeep. The warm sun beat down on her already-flushed face. She’d been in over a dozen films and on numerous television shows. Not once had she ever lost it.
“It’s not. But it’s also not about you.” He opened the passenger door. “Please text or call your father so he doesn’t do something crazy like call the police.”
She shoved his hand off the door as she climbed in and slammed it shut. “I’m not going to respond to that.” But she did pull out her cell and texted her father, who responded immediately with, ‘call if you need me’. He father had never been the overprotective, overbearing father he could have been, especially since he’d had four sassy girls, each having a mind all their own, and none of them had been afraid to express themselves.
The Jeep roared to life. Jackson shoved the gear stick into first.
“Wow. A manual transmission. Don’t see that too much these days.”
“You know how to drive one?”
She laughed. “Learned when I was ten. My father secretly wanted boys, so he did his best to take us hunting and other stuff normally reserved for father-son bonding in the Royal Family.”
“You’re lucky you had a father to teach those things.” He glanced at her as he pulled onto the main road inside the studio, heading toward the back gate. “And spend time with you.”
“What about your mother?” She expected to see sadness, or at the very least, an emptiness in his shadowy eyes from a childhood without a father, but instead rage simmered behind the swirling colors. It didn’t matter who the anger had been aimed toward, working with a man carrying this type of wrath would be the downfall of the movie.
What the hell had she gotten herself into?
“She worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads until I made enough money to support the family.”
All the reports she’d read about Jackson over the years painted him as a lone wolf. Perhaps a bit of a recluse, which was almost unheard of when it came to werewolves with their strong bonds to their pack. But no one ever described him as angry or difficult to work with. Even through his public break-ups, he’d remained quiet, while the women went after him with all they had, making them look like vindictive bitches. Heidi had said she left Jackson because he had a mean streak and cheated, but everyone had seen her nasty side when she tossed a drink in his face at a party after a major award show.
Her reasoning for the outburst had been that Jackson had been cruel toward her, only the entire encounter had been filmed, so no one believed her.
But Jackson never made a statement, which actually made him look as though he could have done or said something deserving of a Cosmo being tossed on his nice white shirt.
“I’m sorry your childhood was so rough.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not your fault my father’s a big prick.”
“My father is a good, loving man,” she whispered, wishing she could have taken the words back.
“I’m sure he is. So many others aren’t as blessed as you have been.”
She let his words hang in the breeze as he merged onto the highway, heading east. Her father’s protection spell blanketed her body like a warm, fuzzy throw. The spell would warn her of anyone wishing to cause her harm of any kind.
The Royal Family of the Coven of the Silver Flock would never use witchcraft to bring harm to anyone, or to better themselves over someone else. People often wondered why they even called themselves witches if they didn’t use it, which made her laugh, because they practiced witchcraft every day. Being a witch was a way of life, and they used their craft to help ease the pain of the sick and seek guidance in their future.
Every witch in the coven had their own Book of Shadows, a collective book of family spells, rituals, and meanings of life.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“My cabin.” He glanced in her direction. “It’s peaceful, quiet, and no one will bother us there.”
She checked the rearview mirror. Any of the paparazzi could have followed them, but she would have sensed that with the protection spell.
Or maybe not, since Jackson wouldn’t let her father cast the same spell on him.
Her father was more than a High Priest. He was a Wizard and a master of his craft.
The wildest thing she’d ever seen her father do was make a Thanksgiving feast appear in a homeless shelter when a blizzard had prevented the food trucks from getting through. Over the years, as she read in the family Book of Shadows, her father’s good will and constant modesty humbled her.
She stared out the window, arms folded over her chest, legs crossed at the ankles as he turned onto Route 39 heading north through the Angeles National Forest toward a small town called Falling Springs. The city buildings had been replaced with lush greenery. Tall trees lined the curvy road. Colorful bushes speckled the hilltops. As a kid, during the full moon, her father would fly with her and her sisters over this area, often stopping to spend the night at one of the campgrounds.
Deep down, she was no city girl, but Beverly Hills wasn’t really a city, and she enjoyed all the comforts of home as much as she enjoyed a good campfire.
“We could just stop at a diner somewhere. No need to go all the way out there just for you to have to drive me home in a few hours.”
“I’m not driving you home.”
“Excuse me?” She glared at him with narrowed eyes, making sure she didn’t accidentally stab him with her mind. “You expect me to call a car service?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Then what? Because if you think I’m spending the night, you better protect your crown jewels because I won’t hesitate to kick you.”
That got his attention as he squirmed in his seat. “Look. This movie is make or break for both of us. We’ve never worked together, much less had a conversation with each other. Spending time alone will only give us a better shot at proving to the world I’m still on top and you’ve got what it takes.”
Sitting up taller, she smoothed down the front of her slacks. “Having lunch together is one thing, but I’m not spending the night at your cabin. Is this how you treat all your co-stars?”
He released the wheel, tossing both hands in the air. “I’m not planning on hitting on you. I no longer sleep with actresses or anyone I work with. This just gives us time to figure each other out so we can jump into our roles—”
“Do you feel that?” A rush of heat, followed by a cold prickle floated across her skin just as the steering wheel jerked to the left, into the other lane, into the path of an eighteen-wheeler.
She screamed in unison with the loud, long horn from the truck barreling down the road.
Jackson growled as his muscles flexed, but the steering wheel didn’t budge. “Hold on,” he yelled, trying to shimmy the wheel right and left, but nothing.
“Out of the cauldron, into the light, send this vehicle to the right,” she waved her hands over and
just as the truck whizzed by, the Jeep jerked back into the proper lane.
“What the fuck was that?” Jackson slammed on the brakes, pulling off to the side, glaring at her with a snarl. “I hate magic. Don’t ever use it again.”
“If I hadn’t, we would have hit that truck head-on.” Her voice trembled, weakened from the quick spell that almost hadn’t worked.
“I had it handled.”
“Right, because your brawn is stronger than black magic.”
He lowered his chin, raising his eyelids. “Excuse me?”
“I felt it just as your car veered to the left.”
He ran a hand down his face, letting his index finger and thumb come together at the base of his chin. “You think some witch tried to kill us both with black magic.”
“Not sure it was meant for me because I didn’t feel it until it was almost too late. This is why you should let my father, or me, cast a protection spell, though his will be stronger.”
“Maybe I should just pack it in and forget about this film all together,” he muttered, dropping his head back. “I wasn’t even given the chance to sleep on the idea of working with you and regardless of your father’s kind spirit, your family, and their witch supporters, have had it in for me from the day my father pulled the trigger. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to have a voodoo doll, and right now they are getting ready to carve out my kidneys for fun.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
He let out a long breath. “Really? Then why do I need a protection spell?”
Chapter 4
Jackson tossed a couple of logs into the fire pit, over the flame he’d created with kindling and a brick fire starter. Half the sun still peeked out over the mountains in the park. Soon it would be dark, and the temperature would drop, but he didn’t want to be locked inside with Amanda, especially when she was looking through some book while talking with her father about this stupid protection spell that, like an idiot, he agreed to let her cast.
Witches had always made Jackson nervous. When he was in grade school, the girl that sat next to him had been a witch. She had been his first crush with her strawberry-blond hair, generally worn in pigtails and a freckled face with big, bright-blue eyes that always drew him in like a rabbit to a carrot. But being around her family, when they performed witchcraft, even though they seemed like decent people with good intentions, the actual rituals made him wonder if she’d put a spell on him to like her to begin with.
As an adult, Jackson knew his paranoia stemmed from his abusive father, who always told him no one ever likes anyone for no reason. Everyone has a hidden agenda, and everyone would want something from Jackson. His father also constantly told him what a loser he’d been. Even today, from prison, his father would send him letters telling Jackson what a horrible actor he was and how rotten his films were. He knew he shouldn’t even bother opening the letters, but something inside him made him keep them. His mother had been supportive but believed his inability to truly believe in himself was because he didn’t burn the letters and cut his father completely out of his life.
His mother was probably right.
He was the idiot that got hit with a baseball bat every time he opened the door, but kept opening it anyway, expecting different results.
He knew the results he wanted and that was to hear the killing had been some sort of accident. That there was no way his father could have killed a man in cold blood.
But Jackson knew the answer, he just wouldn’t face it.
The fire crackled as sparks flickered toward the sky. He sat in the plastic Adirondack chair, nursing a beer. He wanted to shift into his wolf form and run in the woods, letting all the tension from the day’s events evaporate into the night air. More than anything, he wanted to get Amanda out from under his skin. He had never expected to see her vulnerable. She exuded confidence in the way she moved across the room. Her words always articulated with the right vocal inflection that commanded everyone to listen.
Not to mention her luscious, plump lips made him want to cup her face, fanning his thumbs over the moist, supple skin that lined those lips before bringing his mouth over hers, drawing in her tongue…
Fuck.
The woman made him crazier than if he’d caught rabies.
The screen door screeched.
“I’ve got it,” Amanda said in that dazzling voice that made his ears perk up and his blood turn to molten hot lava. “Not sure how strong it will be, but my dad found a way for us to connect to each other, so we can sense any kind of black magic or danger.”
He wouldn’t have agreed to a spell had he found something wrong with the steering on his Jeep, but in the two hours he had under the hood, he’d found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m sorry for being a bit of a dick, but what if whoever cast that spell on my Jeep is from your family?” He knew nothing of her sisters, except for they were all in the entertainment business of some kind, except the oldest, who was a journalist, though for an Art Magazine.
“It wouldn’t be anyone from my immediate family.” She pulled up a chair, sitting next to him. The fire kissed her tanned skin against the darkening sky.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m very close to my sisters and parents. They don’t hold you accountable for your father.”
“Neither does anyone else, but there is always that wonder if I’m not just a chip off the old block.”
“Yeah, well, you come off like a moody, lone wolf, and that scares people.”
He let out a short laugh. “It keeps people at a distance.”
She leaned forward, stretching out her arms. “I need you to hold my hands.”
“That’s asking a lot of a man on the first date.”
A smile spread slowly across her face. The flames from the fire danced in her blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to kiss you or anything.”
“Not that I’d be opposed to that.” He blinked a few times, desperate to break the intimate eye contact that made it impossible for him to keep his thoughts to himself.
Her lips parted as she tilted her head, arching her right brow in a seductive curve. “The more contact we have, the stronger the spell.”
Taking her soft hands in his, he leaned forward, feeling a pull like metal being tugged toward a magnet. Kissing her would be a mistake. Didn’t matter that they would have to kiss in the movie or that they would have an intense love scene.
That would all be acting, and he was a professional.
The fact that his lips were less than an inch from hers had nothing to do with acting and everything to do with being unprofessional. He shouldn’t lick his lips in anticipation of pressing them against hers, but that was exactly what he was doing.
“Open the gate of protection, allow this wolf in the bubble of connection. Alert us to the harm lurking in the dark shadow and allow us to disarm the threat with the force of the buffalo,” she whispered before her eyelashes fluttered closed over lust-laden eyes. Her fingers curled tighter around his hands as their mouths gently touched.
A shock vibrated from his lips, shooting down to his toes as he darted his tongue between her lips, tasting the sweetness of honeysuckle seeping from her to him. A rush of heat coated his skin. It was as if he could feel this bubble of protection hug him like an overprotective grandmother with her fierce and unwavering love.
He jerked back as more shocks pelted his body like little needles.
“Don’t fight it,” Amanda whispered, holding his hands even tighter. “The more you feel, the stronger the spell.”
The blood flowing through his veins burned. Swallowing scorched his throat. He squeezed her tighter as tremors erupted, jerking his extremities.
He stared into her wide eyes, trying like hell to relax. It felt like he’d been struck by lightning and his body was on fire, only it didn’t hurt.
But he still wanted it over with.
His body stilled. He sucked in a deep breath, grateful the heat inside
his body subsided. “If that is going to happen every time we kiss, we’re never going to get through a love scene during filming.”
Letting go of his hands, she reached up and leaned in, kissing him once again, only this time, his body reacted more like a normal, hot-blooded werewolf, which was disturbing on another level.
He let out a low growl, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her gently to his lap. Leaning back on the chair, he let his hands roam the curves of her hips while his tongue explored the inside of her mouth. All the tension that had built up in his shoulders had been released through the massaging of her fingers.
A little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him to stop. That kissing her like this would only lead to heavy petting and inevitably, him taking her to his bed and ravishing her body as if there might not be a tomorrow.
But, as always, he ignored the voice, gliding his hands up her sides, just under the swell of her perky, round mounds. He nibbled his way from her earlobe, across her neck, and down to the first button of her blouse, toying with it between his teeth. He managed to wiggle the button through the hole in the fabric, popping open her shirt, exposing the small space between her breasts. He kissed the top of the soft mound, fanning his thumb over her tight nipple.
Her back arched in response, lifting her breasts higher.
He scrambled to unbutton her shirt, shoving it to the sides. Her black, lacy bra held her swells, pushing them high, her areola peeking out. He ran his tongue over the top, slipping it inside, drawing out her nipple.
She shivered. “Jackson.”
He sucked in a breath as he pulled her shirt across her body. “I’m sorry. We can’t do this.”
“I know.” Her fingers fumbled with her shirt as she slid from his lap, taking a seat next to him. The flames of the fire behind her roared up toward the sky. “The spell was much more powerful than I thought it would be, and we just got caught up in the sensations of the spell bringing us under the same blanket of protection.”
Great. Now he couldn’t trust if he was actually attracted to her, or her witchcraft controlled his emotions. He snagged his beer, downing the last of it. “I need to go run. I’ll be back in an hour, and we can have some dinner. Do you like steak?”