“Go away, Ciaran,” she muttered without looking at him, even if she was grateful for his presence.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Not until you give me what I want.”
A shiver raced down her spine, the memory of the kiss he’d given her in the kitchen resurfacing. All over again, she could feel the press of his lips against hers and the scrape of his greedy teeth on her lips.
Out of context, his words would have implied something naughty. Only Samantha knew what Ciaran truly wanted. Her stomach tightened, wishing it was the first and not the second. She didn’t know if it was her right to undo the curse placed upon him. She knew nothing about what happened between him and her great-grandmother.
What if he wasn’t what he seemed? What if he turned around and betrayed her like he betrayed her great-grandmother?
All of the unknowns hovered over her, but she still let him snake his arm over her shoulder when the man in front of her dared glance back again. A mean streak hit her. She leaned over her cart, hand extended, and let a bit of her family magic curl through her fingers. In the air, she drew a small sigil. The same power that bound Ciaran’s curse hovered in the air before sinking into the man’s aura.
Ciaran stiffened beside her, but still whispered in her ear once more. “That was a naughty thing to do.”
Sure, Samantha had just left a hex on the man, but it was Martha’s husband. Both Samantha and her client knew he was cheating. The hex she left on him would keep him from getting an erection for the next month, but she didn’t tell Ciaran that.
The line moved, and they stepped forward in unison. Ciaran still held onto her, as if to tell the rest of the market who she belonged to. Samantha was sure they cut a strange image. The town was used to Samantha being on her own. Nearly everyone kept a wide circle around her, only stepping close when they needed something. Now that leather-clad Ciaran was holding onto her, they were even more imposing.
She wished she didn’t like his presence so much. It was confusing, to say the least.
“Why are you stalking me around town?”
Ciaran laughed. “You know what I want. Help me get it and I’ll leave you alone.”
She bit her tongue to keep the truth from stumbling out. She couldn’t admit that it was tempting to leave the curse on him just to enjoy his company a while longer. That would be bad. Samantha was known for making bad choices, but this would be the worst of all.
Flirting with an immortal cursed by her family was a bad idea. Even if they somehow fell wildly in love, not that she wanted to, he was immortal. Samantha’s time on this earth was limited. Someday, her expiration date would steal her away. It wasn’t a good idea to tangle with him at all.
Samantha paid for her extra pumpkins and groceries. Ciaran stole the cart from her, pushing it outside for her as if they were a couple doing normal things. Angrily, Samantha stole the cart back from him.
“Get out of here,” she commanded through gritted teeth. She needed to push him away. Not only was she not going to break his curse, she wasn’t going to let herself fall for his charm, either. This needed to stop right now.
Ciaran looked offended for a moment. Then, his face shut down. He jammed his hands in his pockets and gave a curt nod before stalking away. She felt the loss of him almost immediately. The urge to call out to him and make him come back was overwhelming, but she held her ground.
She popped the trunk of her car and stored the pumpkins before glancing back over her shoulder. The sexy Ciaran was gone, but a raven watched her from a nearby tree like some Halloween spectacle. The foliage behind him was a fiery orange, dappled with butter yellow. His raven was so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around him.
It was the kind of thing she expected to see on a greeting card.
Samantha shook her head, turning to take the cart back to the front of the market. Once the cart clanged with the others, she turned back and found herself searching for the raven in the trees again. The branch was empty, dropping a bit of disappointment in her stomach.
Still staring at the branch, she wasn’t watching where she was going. Her skin tingled and she happened to look up to find herself standing in the path of an incoming car.
Caught where she stood, she watched the car descend upon her in slow motion. The windshield was dark, but she thought she saw two, red eyes glowing through it as the car careened toward her.
This was it, she thought.
She braced for impact, but it never came.
A pair of arms grabbed her. They spun her out of the way of the car and into safety. Her heart hammered as she clung to Ciaran. The car flew past Ciaran, the wind of it buffeting them both. His hand cradled the back of her head, tenderly holding it close to his chest.
Once the car passed, his hand on the back of her head slid down to her neck. Sharp claws pressed into her skin. Yet, when she looked up at him, he was glaring at the bumper of the car that was careening away.
Her hands fisted in his shirt before she told herself to let go. “Ciaran,” she whispered. “Your form is, ah, slipping.”
He was something between bird and man, his eyes and hands having shifted to something monstrous. Though, she didn’t feel threatened by it. Instead, there was a strange sense of protection in his arms. It was as if he’d lost control when he saw her in trouble and the anger of what happened made it hard for him to rein in his curse.
Her own heart thundered from what nearly happened. While she struggled to temper her own reaction, she ran her hands along Ciaran’s chest as if to soothe him. “I’m alright. Nothing happened.”
Ciaran was not the man she’d thought he would be. When she was a child, she had nightmares of meeting this cursed immortal. He was the Carver boogey man, and yet he’d rescued her from imminent death. Or, at least, from severe trauma.
Samantha told herself it was because only she could reverse his curse. Since she didn’t have children, the Carver line would have ended with her and no one else would have been able to break the curse on him.
She extracted herself from his arms and turned toward her car, this time trying to stay aware of her surroundings. Though she couldn’t hear him, she could feel him behind her. She wasn’t sure what it was that made her feel his presence. Most likely, it was the curse. Magic called to magic.
Like called to like.
She had the same penchant for dark magic lurking inside her. She did her best to keep it buried deep, but every once in a while she slipped, like inside the market when she hexed Martha’s husband. The repercussions for dark magic would always come back to bite her in the ass. It wasn’t worth it and yet she still caved to it’s siren call.
When she reached for the handle of her car door, she paused to glance at Ciaran. He’d managed to recover from the slip. His eyes were grey once again, fingers returned to normal. Cold shot through her from head to toe when she realized what had occurred.
The position they’d been in had been the same as she’d seen in her vision. What had once seemed threatening turned out to be valiant. He’d risked himself to save her.
Samantha sighed and leaned on the roof of her car, folding her arms in front of her. “Let’s make a deal. If you can help me make the scariest haunted house, then I’ll try to remove the curse from you. How about that?”
Ciaran paused. “That’s it? That’s all I have to do?”
Samantha was tempted to add a bit more, her body tight and aching every time she was too close to him but managed to hold her tongue.
***
Ciaran couldn’t admit the amount of rage he’d felt when he saw that car coming toward the witch. He didn’t even know her name, and yet, he’d wanted to burn the world down just to keep her safe. It was a staggering feeling. One he had not felt since…ever.
Worse, he knew who had been behind the wheel. He’d caught the flash of red eyes as the car fled. The demon had found him. He shouldn’t stay and do as the witch asked, but he found himself agreeing to her deal.
He folded himself inside her crappy car and made sure to buckle his seat belt for the inevitable case of brake failure. The engine turned over, once, twice, three times. He thought it would die on her before it suddenly roared to life. The sound hurt his ears, but he wouldn’t tell her.
She steered them out of the parking lot while he scanned for the demon’s car. Trapped inside the old Volvo, Ciaran knew he couldn’t protect her as well as he would have liked. It set him on edge and made the curse slip forward again. He flexed his fingers, trying to keep them from becoming black talons all over again.
“You still haven’t told me your name.” He needed a distraction. If he could make her talk, hear her voice, then maybe he could keep the curse at bay.
She glanced at him before quickly looking back at the road. “Do you really need to know that bad?”
“It’s not like I can use your name against you. I’m not a spellcaster.”
She blew a breath out her nose. “Still. What if I don’t like it, my name that is?”
He found himself laughing. “It can’t be that bad. I doubt your mother named you Potato.”
“No. She named me after a witch on TV.”
Ciaran couldn’t admit that he didn’t watch TV. When the inbetween stole years from him, he spent too much time catching up on other things, like history and art. And stocks. Stocks didn’t sleep while he slept.
“Samantha? You know, the most famous witch on TV?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, then. Well, now you know my name.”
“Well, was she a good witch, at least? This namesake of yours.”
His witch nodded. “The show was pretty good. Mom watched it a lot when I was a kid. Maybe it made her feel like being a Carver was okay. Witches don’t have the best history, especially with small towns.”
Before he knew it, the car puttered into the driveway next to Carver manor. He lurched free of the metal death trap, immediately moving around to Samantha’s door. Only when he saw her face again did he breathe easy. He helped her out of the car, eyes going past her for a moment.
Pumpkins were smashed, bits and pieces of them everywhere. Samantha followed his gaze, a hushed curse slipping from her lips.
“I hate neighborhood teenagers,” she grumbled. “Those were part of my extra wards. The house always needs help around this time of year, when the veil between worlds is thin.”
“The veil?” Ciaran asked, even though he was still seething at the destruction of Samantha’s decorations. It was rude, a violation of her safety. He wanted to hunt the kids down and teach them a lesson.
“People used to celebrate Halloween to honor the dead or contact those who had passed because the different realms start to align. It makes it easier for demons and spirits to cross into our world. The old wards built into the house need a bit of help keeping out trouble like that.”
The mention of demons made his stomach churn. He’d brought them to her doorstep. If he stayed too long, the demon would burst through her wards and hurt both of them. The thought of dragging her into this made him sick. He didn’t want to ruin the life of another Carver witch. Not this one.
She couldn’t sense the turmoil inside him. Or, if she could, she didn’t acknowledge it as she popped the trunk to reveal more pumpkins.
“You should make more wards tonight,” Ciaran advised.
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “That wasn’t what I’d bought these for. They were going to be talking jack-o-lanterns for the haunted house.”
He wanted to tell her that her safety was more important than some contest, but he could see her disappointment. She looked defeated, and he hated it. Unable to bear it any longer, he swooped in front of her and gathered a bunch of pumpkins into his arms.
“Let’s go inside and deal with this there. Shall we?”
Samantha nodded, apparently unable to find words. He made sure to put her in front of him, still scanning the street for the demon. It was only a matter of time before the demon struck. Even if Ciaran wanted to lose himself in the woman marching in front of him, he needed to be vigilant.
He would not fail another Carver witch.
The sight of the locket around her neck had only been a reminder.
Chapter Seven
Samantha put the cursed immortal to work, hanging decorations or flying streamers into trees. As long as she didn’t have to look at him, she wasn’t thinking about the steamy kiss they’d shared or the way he’d held her at the market. Her body hummed with need, even though she busied her hands with other work.
Offering to help him had been a mistake. Samantha was too weak. She wouldn’t last five minutes in his presence without succumbing to the smoldering heat that seemed to burn between them. She hated the part of herself that edged toward darker things. All her life, she’d struggled to remain on the right side of the light, even though the power she’d inherited screamed with darkness.
The magic must have skipped generations, jumping directly from her great-grandmother to her, because she’d never seen her grandmother or mother struggle with the urges she felt. Never had she witnessed either matriarch place a hex on someone.
The worst part was that she didn’t feel bad about what she’d done, only because of what it meant to her. Instead, Samantha felt a strange pride. The man deserved it, honestly. Still, she knew that her actions would catch up to her and that was what terrified her.
Perhaps they came in the form of a sexy immortal man who would turn her life upside down. He seemed alright, but Samantha knew that it was only a matter of time before something blew up.
She, too, would deserve it.
With a heavy sigh, she threw herself down on the couch. The house was dripping with Halloween decorations. Trip wires would cause bats to fall from the ceiling. Plastic dogs with motion detectors would bark and growl at people walking by. It was nothing compared to what it could be, but Samantha wasn’t done.
She was just so tired.
Ciaran appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the jamb like some heartthrob from a fifty’s movie, hands jammed in his pocket as he grinned at her. Her stomach tightened at the sight of him. There were pumpkins waiting to be carved on the kitchen counter, but all she could do was stare at Ciaran.
“I’m not going to let you fool me,” she whispered.
He unfolded and moved toward her. Samantha should have been afraid. Her heart should have stuttered. Her magic should have risen in preparation of a fight. Instead, her breath caught as his jacket slid from his shoulders. Her eyes roved over the tattoos on his arms and she remembered the bandages she’d applied.
Samantha drew her feet underneath her body. “Let me check your wounds. I’d like to see how they’re healing.”
Ciaran shrugged. “I’m doing fine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as he moved to perch on the arm of the couch, as far away from her as he could get while sitting on the same piece of furniture.
“If you don’t let me check on the wounds, you could get an infection and it could reach your brain. Do you think the curse could heal you after a fever scrambled your mind?”
“You aim low, witch.” While his words were defensive, he ended with a resigned sigh. Ciaran’s shoulders dropped, and she took that as submission.
Samantha unfolded from the couch and moved to pull back the collar of his shirt. This close, she could smell him. Dust clung to him, from all the hidden passages she’d forced him to explore in the manor, but beneath that was the undeniable scent of warmth. Woodsy and spicy, the scent wrapped around her and hugged her tight.
It was just another step toward damnation, she thought.
She was about to throw caution to the wind and let it claim her when she saw the faint black lines spreading from the bite wounds on Ciaran’s shoulder.
“This is worse than before!” Immediately, she reached
for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head.
He caught her hands in his and held them. “I’m fine. Really.”
When she looked to his face, she could see the sheen of sweat on his brow. His grip on her hands tightened, muscles tensing like he might push her away.
“Fight me on this and I will hex you so that you can never get an erection again.”
He grimaced. “That’s worse than the curse Imogen put on me. Especially if I have to stick around you.”
Her stomach flipped. “What did you just say?”
Immediately, Ciaran looked away. He looked anywhere but at her.
She stepped into the place between his legs again, using his own attraction against him as she grinned. Her hands slipped from his as her breath cascaded over his neck. She caught his subtle shiver and heard the low sound in his throat. Her fingers found their way beneath the hem of his shirt, grazing skin.
It warmed her to see how she could bend this man to her will so easily. He was just as attracted to her as she was to him. He could easily turn the tables, but it didn’t seem to occur to him. Should he touch her, his hands finding their way beneath her shirt to find her breasts, she would be done.
To keep him distracted, she pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck. It wavered beneath her touch and, as she pulled back, she dragged her teeth over it. Ciaran growled, gripping her and pulling her closer. His legs squeezed her so that she couldn’t retreat.
She wished she could just magic his shirt away, but it didn’t work like that. The most she could do with material things was create illusionary tricks. The human body and fate were easily manipulated, but inanimate objects were much harder.
Her only choice was tugging it up as she bit the line of his jaw. Ciaran didn’t seem to notice what she was doing until the shirt was over his head. She threw it aside, gripped his shoulder and wrist, and wrested him into submission.
The Raven Curse Page 4