Wicked Creatures, page 6
part #4 of Cursed Coven Series
I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I’m terrible at this. Just hear me out.”
“Alright.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Go on.”
“I’m not good with people. Not in the way you think I am. Seduction? Sure. Getting people to spill their darkest secrets? It’s how I make a living. But connecting, that’s not something I know how to deal with. And we connected. And I went right for sex. Even though you deserve more.”
“More than sex?” I asked. “I mean, I’ll admit, I did enjoy it.”
He smirked. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I waited, not sure how to respond to him. Heat filled my chest, and I was sure my cheeks were pink. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? I felt like a kid. Like I needed to pass him a note with check boxes as options.
“I know we have things to fix,” he said. “I know you don’t want the magic that’s inside you and I’ve been thinking about what you said. If we can’t switch our magic back there are other things we can do. If your magic is that dangerous, we can re-bind it. We can even bind mine.”
“That would mean you’d lose your magic,” I said, not believing what he was saying.
“If it sets this right, I’d do it.”
I shook my head. “No. We’re not doing that. If we can’t switch it back, I’ll learn how to use this. I’ll help you channel my magic. We can work on it together.”
Marcos took a step toward me and I held my breath. How was it that I was willing to do the only thing I didn’t want to do, for this man? What had he done to me? What was this feeling?
He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine and I knew the truth. He was mine as I was his. We were meant to be. Whatever pain we caused each other would be worth the time we had together.
Chapter Fifteen
Marcos
I pulled her closer to me, savoring the feel of her lips against mine. This woman had nearly undone me in the course of a single night. For the first time, I realized what my father meant when he said he’d marry my mother over and over again, even if it meant he’d only have her for a day.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Caitlin. Even if we only had today, I wanted to spend every second with her.
As the kiss deepened, I felt her magic grow within me. This time, I didn’t pull back. I leaned into it, letting it flow through me, surrounding us.
She ran her fingers through my hair then pulled my head closer to hers. Our kiss grew desperate. As if this really was the last time we’d have together.
That’s when I felt the jolt of my magic. Familiar, comfortable, safe. It caressed me, twisting and binding with Caitlin’s magic.
The sensation was too much. We broke the kiss, but I grabbed hold of her hands, unwilling to let go.
Sparks lit the air around us, sending the hair on my arms on edge. Caitlin’s hair stood in a halo around her head. Her eyes widened.
“What’s happening?” She whispered.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Suddenly, the sparks dimmed, falling to the ground like discarded glitter until they vanished completely.
A rush of air filled my lungs and I gasped. Caitlin gasped too. And I could feel it. My magic, back where it belonged. Right inside me.
Reaching out with it, testing it, I could feel Caitlin’s magic thrumming inside her. “How?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Somehow, we broke the curse.”
I pulled her close as I laughed. She joined in, her giggles shaking her whole body.
“Now what?” She asked.
“Now I help you,” I said. “You want your magic bound? Let me pay the price.”
She shook her head. “No, not anymore. The way our magic connected… I never felt anything like that.”
“Well, we have our whole lives to figure it out together,” I said.
Epilogue
One Year Later
I felt him before I saw him. The familiar buzz of Marcos’s magic reaching for mine. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to the sensation.
It had been a year since I’d agreed to keep my magic and true to his word, Marcos had been there every step of the way. We balanced each other in a strange way. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. His magic sought truth and intimacy, while mine looked for destruction. It didn’t seem like something that should work, but it did. When he was close, I felt more at peace than I ever had. Even when my magic was bound, I’d never felt this in control.
I turned to greet him as he walked across the garden. The sun was just beginning to set, setting the sky alight with rose colored clouds. We’d decided to celebrate Samhain at my Grandmother’s house this year instead of attending the larger gathering.
“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about the party,” I said.
“Never.” He leaned down and kissed me. “I told you I’d be here after I finished.”
I frowned. “You’re working too hard.”
“What makes you think I was working?” he asked.
“Oh? So you left me to spend the last two hours with my family alone so you could do something more fun?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest in mock annoyance.
A wicked grin spread on his lips. “Definitely more fun.”
“You’re awful,” I said.
“You know you love me,” he said.
I dropped my hands to my sides and closed the small space between us. “Most of the time.”
“Is that my favorite warlock?”
I turned to see my grandma walking toward us. She held out two glasses, passing one to Marcos when she reached us. Then she took a sip out of the other.
“I see how it is,” I said. “I thought we were drinking buddies but I’ve been replaced.”
“When you return someone’s locked magic to them, I’ll bring you drinks again.” She winked.
“I guess I’m going to have to keep you around,” I said to Marcos. “No other guy is ever going to live up to your standards.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Grandma said.
“Good thing I plan on sticking around.” Suddenly, Marcos dropped to one knee.
My jaw dropped open and my eyes widened. My heart hammered. Was this what I thought it was? Was he really doing this? Here? In front of my whole family?
“Caitlin King.” He lifted his hand, showing a silver band with a stone that glittered in the last of the setting sun. “Will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
My throat tightened and tears stung the back of my eyes.
From behind me I heard a squeal that could only belong to my sister, Lilian.
Silence fell around me as the gathered family members realized what was happening. I could feel all of their eyes on me but none of that mattered.
I never thought I’d be willing to give any man a chance like this. But as the tears streamed down my cheeks I found myself nodding without hesitation.
“Yes,” I said, my throat tight with emotion, “yes.”
Marcos slipped the ring on my finger, then he stood and pulled me into an embrace. He lifted me and spun me in a circle, pressing his lips to mine.
Around us my family whooped and cheered.
Marcos set me back down on the ground and then cupped my face with his hands. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life, no matter how long it is, with you.”
I set my hands on top of his, relishing the warmth of his hands on my face. “Good, cause I’m not going anywhere.”
“I knew that bouquet would do the trick,” Lilian said.
My grandma cackled.
Afterword
The Coven thanks you for reading Wicked Creatures. You won’t believe what we have coming next. Want a sneak peek? Check out our website at midnightcoven.com.
There are thirteen different books in the Cursed Coven series, each penned by one of today’s hottest paranormal romance authors. While each story stands on its own with a happily ever after, characters do tend to wander from book to book, and you don’t want to miss a cameo by one of your favorites.You can read the novellas in any order.
The Coven will return soon with a twisted collaboration that will keep you reading all night long. Until then, turn the page for a sneak peek of Wicked Omens.
The magic continues with each witch who falls under our curse. Find your favorite now!
Wicked Thorne by K. Loraine
Wicked Warlock by Marina Simcoe
Wicked Love by Lisa Manifold
Wicked Creatures by Dyan Chick
Wicked Omens by Patricia D. Eddy
Wicked Devotion by Renea Mason
Wicked Desires by K.L. Bone
Wicked Hunt by Alice K. Wayne
Wicked Truth by Corinne O’Flynn
Wicked Witch by Jessie Lane
Wicked Shadows by Ariel Marie
Wicked Hexes by Amelia Hutchins
Wicked Charm by Knox & Miers
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Sneak Peek: Wicked Omens
Patricia D. Eddy
Killian
Power burst from his hands, turning his fingertips black and rather…crispy. Stalking over to his freezer, he grabbed one of his many ice packs. The sizzle as ice met skin made him cringe.
“If anyone in this world still made wands…” His familiar, a small black kitten named—appropriately—Tiny, yawned and started cleaning her paw.
“Shut it, cat.”
“If I were a cat, perhaps I would ‘shut it.’ As I am not, go fuck yourself, Killian. You are a terrible witch, and hopelessly incompetent.” With her tail in the air, Tiny pranced away, heading for a patch of sunlight in the front window.
“You’re supposed to be helping me with this shite. Or have you forgotten the role of a familiar?”
From the other room, Tiny called, “Start acting like a witch and maybe I’ll start acting like a familiar.”
Killian sank down at the kitchen table, the ice pack numbing his fingers as he ached for something to dull the pain of failure deep inside him. Every bloody day he tried, and every day, he either injured himself, set fire to something, or—on the worst days—set off a small explosion in the woods behind his property.
The knock at the door startled him, and the ice pack landed on the kitchen tile with a dull thunk.
Not now.
But whoever wanted to see him wasn’t taking no for an answer. Or even waiting for him to reach the front room. The lock flipped open and the door creaked as sharp footsteps rapped across his hardwood floors. Killian’s fingers closed over the silver and iron cuff he’d left on the counter, and he barely managed to snap it around his wrist before Beatrix Pearce, head of the London Coven entered the room.
“Torturing yourself again, Killian?” She tutted softly as she narrowed her ice blue eyes at the cuff and his blackened fingers. With a few whispered words, Beatrix draped her hands over his, and the burning pain faded almost instantly as his skin mended.
Stepping back, she tucked a long strand of white hair back into her bun. “Better?”
“Yes, High Priestess. Thank you,” Killian said. He stopped himself before he asked her what she was doing way out here in the Tonbridge countryside. It had been years since Killian had been willing to live in a city—among people. Not since…
“Your thoughts betray you, witch,” Beatrix said. “Perhaps, since I came all this way, you could offer me some tea? Or…something stronger?”
He hated that word. Witch. He’d begged Beatrix more than once to call him a warlock, but Beatrix insisted that was not the proper term and she would not be using it. Trudging to his stove, he lit the burner and added water to the kettle. “To what do I owe this pleasure, High Priestess?”
“You’d best control your tone, young man. You may be one of the most powerful witches of an age, but I can still give you a thrashing.” Beatrix examined her nails as Killian opened a tin of black tea and withdrew two bags.
The act of preparing the tea centered him a bit, and by the time he brought the mugs and the sugar bowl he knew Beatrix would want to the table, his emotions were almost under control. At the last moment, he snagged a bottle of bourbon and set it in front of her as well. “My apologies. It has not been an easy day. But that is no excuse for my rudeness.”
“No, it is not.” Beatrix added two spoonfuls of sugar to her tea along with a healthy pour of bourbon, stirred daintily, and then sighed. “You know of the Witches’ Ball and coven meeting in America?”
“Of course. I’m not that much of a fuck-up, High Priestess.”
She snorted, then touched her bun again, making sure every hair was in place. “We are not at the coven house. You may call me Beatrix. A one-time dispensation only.”
This couldn’t be good. Beatrix was well over seventy years old, and some of the other coven members believed her to be closer to two-hundred-seventy. She did not bend the rules, did not take to casual conversation. She also did not make house calls. She summoned.
After a sip of the steaming liquid, she set the mug down and withdrew an envelope from the pocket of her skirt. “It is a great honor to receive an invitation. I have attended a dozen times. But this year, the letter that arrived was not addressed to me.”
Killian choked on his tea as she slid the thick, cream-colored envelope across the table. “Are you having a laugh? No one would invite me. Not unless they had a death wish.”
But there on the front, in thick, gold embossing, was his name. Killian Wade, Witch.
Of course they’d include that word.
“You should open it,” Beatrix said.
Killian pushed his chair back and stood. “No. I won’t touch it.”
Her chuckle contained no mirth. “That…will end badly for you, Killian.”
“Being among other witches will end badly for me, Beatrix. Or have you forgotten what I did?” Killian could still hear the screams in his nightmares. Shadows flickered in the corners of the room, and the cuff around his wrist burned his skin as his magic fought to escape.
The hazy form by the stove stepped forward, coalescing into a poor representation of Oliver. Or…perhaps a perfect one. Blood dripped from the ghost’s numerous wounds, half his head was bashed in, and he was missing his right hand.
Killian couldn’t breathe. He had to get outside. Somewhere he couldn’t hurt anyone. Pushing through the back door, he sucked in deep lunguls of the cool autumn air, staring out over the misty landscape.
“I would not leave that envelope untended for long,” Tiny said as she padded lightly into the tall grasses off his back porch. “If the cottage is destroyed, you are not putting me in a kennel.”
Fuck me.
Stalking back inside, he swiped the envelope off the table and broke the seal before he registered that Beatrix was no longer there. “What the bloody hell—?”
His entire body folded in on itself, twisting and compacting until he was no more than a speck of dust in the air. And then, as if the world’s largest vacuum cleaner had suddenly turned on, he flew. Over the lights of London, the black nothingness of the Atlantic Ocean, the eastern seaboard of the United States, until he found himself in the middle of Bourbon Street, New Orleans, where with a subtle pop, he was suddenly returned to his original form.
“Fucking magic.”
You’ve just read a sneak peek of Patricia D. Eddy’s Wicked Omens. Pick it up today here: https://books2read.com/u/bow2YV
Dyan Chick, Wicked Creatures
