Heart of the Witch

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Heart of a Witch

By

Alicia Dean

Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Epilogue

ENSORCELLED HEARTS

"You're not making any sense," Ravyn snapped. "I'd give anything to find and stop this maniac. I don't know what you're accusing me of, or why.
Why
?"

Nick sighed and shook his head. "Damn it, I don't know. I don't know."

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Nick."

He gave her a small, humorless smile. "Sorry for what? Are you sorry Kayne is a dangerous fanatic? Or are you sorry that I can't stop thinking about you, can't stop wanting you? Sorry that my desire for you is stronger than it ever was for my dead wife?" He grabbed her once more and pulled her to him. "Do you have any idea how crazy that is? How it makes me feel? I want you every second of every day. Even with people dying around me, even with the frustration and guilt of not being able to stop this murdering psychopath, I still want you. It's… it's like I'm under some sort of spell."

To my extraordinary, beautiful, precious children, Lana, Lacey, and Presley.

You are my world.

To my best friend, Paige—a truly exceptional person—

and her girls, Kyleigh and Alexandra, who I love as

though they were my own.

LOVE SPELL®

December 2009

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

200 Madison Avenue

New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2009 by Alicia Dean

Cover art by Anne Cain.

ISBN 10: 0-505-52826-6

ISBN 13: 978-0-505-52826-1

E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-

The name "Love Spell" and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

10 987654321

Visit us online at
www.dorchesterpub.com
.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I believe the one thing that has surprised me most in my journey as a writer is the genuine encouragement and support my fellow authors have shown. I've been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of so many wonderful people along the way: My OKRWA chapter, my critique group (The Sooner Writers), Judith Rochelle and her magic wishing well, and the fantastic men and women I've met through the Wild Rose Press and online loops such as Contest Alert and ProOrg. But of all the amazing people I've come in contact with in the writing world, none can compare to the generous and remarkable Sharon Sala. Thank you so much for being the catalyst that made this happen. For that, and all of your other exceptional qualities, I love you. You'll always be very special to me.

Also, I'd like to thank my mentor, Mel Odom. Without his teaching and inspiration, I would never have had the confidence to finish that first book. I would also like to thank Jordan Dane for all she's done. I am awed by her success and the fact that she's still willing to reach out to assist aspiring authors. Thanks to my friend, Rhonda Penders, for her unfailing help and belief in me, even though she's not into the "eerie" stuff I write. Thanks to Faith V. Smith and Martha Kopcienski for reading my book and offering insightful suggestions.

I want to thank my family for a lifetime of love and support. My mother, Eva Robertson, for being the most giving and loving mother I could ever hope to have. My father, Dean Robertson. Although he's no longer with us, I will always carry the memory of his gentle love and encouragement.

My loving and supportive sister and friend, Ruth, and her husband, Tom, whose greatness as a brother-in-law is surpassed only by his perfection as a husband. My sister, Sheri, who I adore and who is always there for me, and who I think has been more excited throughout this process than I have, and her husband, Larry. My kind, loving, sister, Janis, and my brother, Brett. To my beautiful nieces and nephews. To Madison, even though I'm not able to see you, not a day goes by that the kids and I don't think of you and miss you, and our love for you will never change. Thank you, Liz, for being my lifelong friend. And her beautiful children, Preston, Kandis, and Nathan, who will always have a special place in my heart… love you so much.

My terrific agent, Meredith Bernstein, who hung in there with me. And my fantastic editor, Chris Keeslar, who believed in my book enough to take a chance.

I have been truly blessed with a tremendous network of friends and family and I am honored beyond measure to have them beside me as I see my dream come true. I can't possibly name everyone, it would take me more pages than my actual book, but I hope that you know who you are and that I've told you along the way how much you mean to me. If not, I'm telling you now.

Heart

of the

Witch

If she didn't wake soon, he'd have to cut her. He wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

Moonlight filtered into the cabin through sheet-covered windows, casting a patchwork of shadows on her face. She was a beauty. In the brief moments before she lost consciousness, he'd seen her eyes: a deep, rich green with flecks of amber. Never in his life had he seen eyes that color. He'd been so captivated, he'd nearly forgotten the chloroform.

Her hair was the color of midnight with streaks of crimson, and it fell in glossy waves around her shoulders. Dark lashes lay on her pale cheeks. She had full lips, with a slight overbite. Soooo sexy. She had full breasts, rounded hips, long shapely legs. Her feminine curves were the kind that drove men wild. She wasn't emaciated like so many women these days. It was sickening, the way they starved themselves to skin and bones, leaving nothing a man could hold on to—or sink a blade into.

A cracking noise sounded, and he lifted his head. Had a hunter wandered too close? At this time of year in southeast Oklahoma, hunting was almost a religion. He ran a high risk of detection by some redneck with more firepower than brains. That didn't matter, though. The risk only added to the thrill.

The sound came again, and this time he recognized it: a log popping in the fireplace. He let out a relieved sigh.

The risk might add excitement, but he was in no hurry to be discovered by Billy Bob Redneck and his hillbilly bud' dies. There was too much yet to be enjoyed. Some pleasures shouldn't be rushed.

The girl—Ravyn, he'd learned from her driver's license—groaned. He felt a swelling in his loins, and his arousal pressed against his zipper. The groan was just the beginning. The groan meant she would soon be awake, that she would soon be a witness to the pleasures he took with her body. He always waited until they were awake. Without consciousness, there was no fear. Without fear, there was no satisfaction.

His heart raced. He'd never been this excited before. He hoped to make this woman last longer than the others. "Time to wake up, my lovely," he whispered. His spine tingled with anticipation. Soon. Very soon.

The ecstasy had begun the first time he lost a patient in surgery. Even though it hadn't been on purpose, her death had given him a thrill beyond measure. He'd discovered that the power to take a life was more exhilarating than the ability to save one. Since, taking lives had developed into a pleasure beyond imagining.

This exquisite creature strapped to the bed was his sixth victim, and she was the most stunning of all. Nearly perfect. He always chose perfection, because that was more satisfying to destroy. Seeing the look in the eyes of a beautiful woman who knew her life was in his hands, seeing her realize that her beauty couldn't save her… that was a thrill beyond words.

When little boys choose to be naughty little bastards, they must suffer the consequences!

What the… ? He whirled as the voice echoed through the cabin. The room was empty. He looked back at the girl. Still unconscious. It hadn't been her.

Of course it wasn't her, you stupid little fuck. Don't you recognize your own mothers voice?

A chill coursed through his body, settled in his groin. He shivered, and his dick shrank as if trying to crawl inside him. He was losing his mind. His mother had been dead for years. She couldn't hurt him anymore, could no longer control him.