Witch Way to Love

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Jessica Coulter Smith

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-901-1

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Brieanna
Robertson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All
names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I would like to thank my husband
for always believing in me. Without his love and support, the stories I create
would not be possible.

WITCH WAY TO LOVE

Love
Spell, 1

Jessica Coulter Smith

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Lightning
skittered across the sky, the brilliant flashes lighting up everything around
her. Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the earth beneath her feet. The
high-powered winds whipped her long, red hair around her head and made her
fight for purchase on the pavement. It was a bad night out, for witches and
mortals alike. If only she hadn’t lost her damn wand! What was a witch without
her wand? Damn near mortal, that’s what. The heavens were going to open up at
any moment and she would be drenched. Taking a witch’s wand was as good as
stealing her powers. No, she didn’t need the wand to create
magick
,
but if it wasn’t in her possession, her powers sort of…fizzled and died out.

Her
high-heeled sandals were a poor choice of footwear at the moment, as she
tottered down the sidewalk, following the beacon of light in the distance.
She’d cast a locator spell in hopes of finding her wayward wand. She wasn’t
certain if it had been appropriated by someone, or had merely wandered off,
kind of like her broom had done the month before. Anyone who thought a wand was
an inanimate object was a fool. It had a life force of its own. Otherwise, it
would just be a piece of wood with pretty carvings.

The
beam of light shooting into the sky started to flicker, and she worried it
would sputter out completely. She could tell it was in the area the residents
of Mayfair Heights called “the jungle.” Only shape-shifters lived in that part
of town. Despite the ominous clouds in the sky, she knew there was a full moon
tonight. She just had to hope whoever had taken the wand, or the lucky person
her wand had chosen as its guardian, was in residence. It would be just her
luck that the
furball
would be out on a run, even if
the weather did leave a lot to be desired.

With
the wind buffeting her small body, she felt like she was fighting an uphill
battle, and wondered if she’d ever reach her destination. If her powers weren’t
on the fritz, she could just translocate to wherever she needed to go. But, of
course, on the worst night they’d had in months, she was stuck traveling on
foot. She couldn’t even use her broom until she was at full power again. The
damn thing refused to work. She completely blamed the tree sprite, the one who
had gifted her with the branch used to carve the broom handle. It had obviously
imbued some of its stubbornness into her broom.

Breena
rounded another
corner and sighed in relief. The home she sought was half a block away and lit
up like the fourth of July, thanks to her little spell. She thanked the goddess
that it had worked so well, or at all, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine
having to find her wand the old-fashioned way, or having to hire someone else
to cast the spell for her. How embarrassing! It was bad enough that things like
this kept happening to her, but if the spell-casters guild caught wind of it,
they’d pull her license to practice for sure.

As
she neared the home, she took in the little details, like the gargoyles
standing guard at the edges of the roof. She had no doubt they were the real
thing and gave them a little wave. The red door stood out in stark contrast
against the gray and black home, beckoning her closer. She stepped under the
portico just as the rain began to beat down, a deluge really, and she thanked
the goddess she hadn’t been standing out in the open just then.

She
lifted her fist and knocked on the door, listening for any sounds of life
within. No answer. She banged again, this time a little harder. The light from
her spell spluttered and blinked out, leaving her standing in the dark. The
fact that there were no lights on in the home, nor on the porch, told her that
her query was probably out running wild, but she refused to give up.

Breena’s
tiny fist pounded
on the door for the third time. Grumbling under her breath, she gave the wood a
good, hard kick, wincing as her toes met the unforgiving surface. She had just
turned, and was about to leave, when the door flew open.

“Do
you have any idea what time it is?” growled a deep voice, a voice that zinged
through her and made all of her lady parts take notice.

She
spun around with a snappy retort on the tip of her tongue, but it died the
moment she was faced with six-foot-six of yummy goodness. A button-down shirt
hung open, leaving his scrumptious muscular chest in full view. Her gaze dipped
down over six pack abs and she licked her lips, wanting to run her tongue over
each and every inch of him.

“I’m,
uh, looking for my wand,” she stuttered lamely, her brain having been fried by
his hotness.

He
smirked. “Oh, I have a wand for you all right, but I don’t think it’s the one
you came looking for.”

Her
gaze jerked back up to meet his. “Don’t tease. It’s a full moon. We both know
you aren’t going to do anything, not tonight anyway.”

He
folded his arms over his chest. “So you know what I am. Or at least you think
you do. What you don’t know is that I’m not your average wolf.”

She
licked her lips.

“
Which means,” he continued, “that I wasn’t teasing.
A
helpless little thing like you wouldn’t stand a chance against the big, bad
wolf. What’s a witch without her wand?”

Breena
moved forward
until she stood toe-to-toe with him. “So what are you waiting for?
A written invitation?
My quill is in my other dress.”

She
grasped his shirt and jerked him toward her, planting her lips on his. No small
feat seeing as how he towered over her by a foot. She felt his arms wrap around
her and she melted against him, her plush curves pressing against all of those
taut muscles. It definitely gave
a girl ideas—
of the
naughty variety.

He
pulled back and chuckled. Her lips bowed down in a frown. Just what did he find
so funny? Here she was, all but throwing herself at him—okay, so she
had
thrown herself at him—and he had the
audacity to laugh? If she had her wand, she’d put cockleburs in his kibble.
That would teach him to play with a witch’s affections.

“As
delightful as this is, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said.

“Leave?
But… my wand!”

“Is not here.”
His tone
brooked no argument, but she
knew
her
wand was inside. Her spell wouldn’t have led her astray. Just because he didn’t
know it was there didn’t mean it wasn’t in his home somewhere. It could be
hiding, even in plain sight.

“If
you’d just let me in for a minute, I’m sure I could find it and be out of—”

“No.”

Before
she could protest further, he slammed the door in her face. Her hands fisted at
her sides as she stomped her foot in frustration. Of all the… She’d teach him a
lesson if it was the last thing she did! The least he could have done was let
her ride out the storm in his house, or have given her an umbrella.

She
was about to pound on the door
again,
demand that he
let her in, when she saw something gray flying out of the corner of her eye.
Turning her head, she caught sight of one of the gargoyles. He didn’t look very
pleased with her.

“The
master said to leave him alone,” the little stone creature said. “You’d best
leave before you anger him.”

“What’s
the worst he can do? Bite me? Scratch me? Hump my leg?” She snorted. “I’m not
afraid of a
stinkin
’ werewolf.”

The
gargoyle grinned, showing very sharp, pointed teeth. “Master is more than he
seems. You would be wise not to anger him.”

More
than he seemed? How could a werewolf be more than he seemed? She knew he wasn’t
the alpha. Everyone in town knew the alpha was one very yummy Micah
Smythe
. With his dark hair and hazel eyes, all he had to do
was crook his lips up in a smile and women would drop their panties left and
right. The man was sin personified, and very much a player. He was every
woman’s fantasy, but
Breena
knew better than to get
involved with him. It would only end in heartbreak, even if he could give her a
wild ride.