Passion of a Witch: A Wicked Series - Book 1 Read online

  Summer gave a silent request to the tallest tree towering above her to shift its branches to allow more moonlight to shine on him. She had to stare into the eyes of the coward who destroyed her and her sister's sense of safety. A man's gaze offered a window into his soul, and she needed to see the vile spirit this stranger wielded.

  When the moon's glow crept over his features, the air expelled from her lungs in a mad rush. Her skin grew hot. Her body trembled. She took a sudden step closer out of compulsion, her need to erase any distance between them overwhelming.

  She'd met handsome men. All the males in her coven were attractive. They were angelic and mysterious like the twinkling stars scattered across the black heavens. This human, however, shone brighter than the midday sun—wild, stunning, and scorching.

  Dangerous. The word whispered through her mind at the same moment his large, dark chestnut gaze locked on her.

  He assessed her, dissected her, removing her outer shell and tunneling through to the core of her being. In seconds, he excavated the part of herself she hid from everyone she knew. His deep, accessing leer forced a shiver up her spine. An unexpected spark of memory lit a candle of recognition in her mind.

  I know this man.

  One night, years ago, she had gone out with her father to collect midnight blooms. They had found this human and his adolescent friends desecrating her family's land. They had snuck into the woods, built a fire, and were drinking alcohol.

  Together, her father and she confronted the trespassers. Her father ordered the motley crew to leave. This man had stood still, staring at her the entire time. While the others hurled curses and insults, he remained silent. She had dared to gape into the human's deep brown eyes out of a morbid curiosity. What she found astounded her. Great strength hid behind his gaze. Strength tainted with an intense sadness.

  He then did the most incredible thing as she stood there staring at him. He smiled. His grin held no smugness or lust, nothing but pure joy. Then he dared to wink at her. Abashed, she had turned away, and the moment passed.

  All these years, she had no name to go with the face, but those warm, deep, chocolate-colored irises played a song in her head, an enticing melody she refused to forget. The memory danced within her dreams. In each fantasy, he became her courageous hero, a knight ready to save her from circumstance. They were the imaginings of an idealistic child, the internal wishes of a fool.

  Watching him rock on the ground, whining like an infant, made her realize how active her imagination had become. This man was so far from her created expectation that reality left a damaging blow to her past, present, and any future dreams to come.

  Oh, she remembered him all right. His gang had violated their forest on several occasions over the years. Drinking and smoking Goddess knew what, but she held hope he had grown into her hero.

  Silly girl.

  “You.” Laughter burst from his lips. “I was running from you? The guys are gonna have a field day with this.”

  His arrogant tone made her cringe, but she recovered and returned his insolence with her own scowl. At the same time, her youthful, feminine side did a happy leap. He remembers me after all this time. Her nostrils flared at her inner voice.

  He tried to stand and fell back on his behind, crying out with an anguished shout. She flashed a grin.

  Immature, infuriating man-child. From the stench of him, he hadn't matured, still drinking and smoking.

  “They know nothing of change, darling.” Her nana's words rushed through her mind. “They possess the mentality of cockroaches, my dear. They're a dirty infestation that leaves nothing but their filth behind.”

  How right you were, Nana.

  He cried out again. She suffered a flicker of compassion for his agony. She was a healer; to see another in pain never sat right with her when she possessed the gift to heal them. Besides, she refused to revel in another's misfortune, no matter how much they deserved a twisted ankle. She believed in karma. Your actions decided your fate in this life or the next. Proof in point, the pain he now endured was justice for his attack against her home.

  The gold hoop pierced through his eyebrow bounced when he squeezed his eyes shut in anguish.

  She frowned. “Yes, you ran from me, a poor, defenseless woman.”

  He kept his full lips straight and flat, although she imagined his smile could melt even the coldest heart. “Defenseless is a far stretch, baby. Where's your father? Is he going to jump out from the shadows and shoot my ass?”

  Baby? She ignored his demeaning pet name. He was only human after all. He didn't know any better.

  Short, golden-brown spikes of hair covered his head, while a scruffy shadow rang across his upper lip, square jaw, and prominent chin. She had guessed he was large in stature when she approached, but didn't realize the full magnitude until she stood before him.

  Thick pectoral muscles flexed beneath his tight white tank top. His tan biceps and shoulders tensed as they stretched around his leg to support his knee. A black and gray tattoo covered most of his left arm, muffled by the shadows of night. His right arm was washed in an array of colorful art. She used her enhanced eyesight to decipher it and saw a flash of wings and swirling purple smoke wrapping his flesh.

  Although well built, she doubted manual labor carved his intricate definitions. He had an aristocratic air, as if his mere presence was a privilege. An image of him giving orders flashed in her head. A thick cloud of superiority encased him. Men in possession of an aura flooded with warm gold, pearl white, and streaks of sapphire didn't lower themselves to hard work. No, this man didn't spend his days digging ditches or swinging a hammer to build those muscles. She'd guess exercise molded his physique.

  She sighed, another pin to burst her fantasy bubble. Her hero was nothing but a pampered prince. Perhaps human males weren't much different from their witch counterparts. Male arrogance was the norm at every coven meeting she ever attended.

  She chuckled. “You're right. I'm far from powerless. I need no help to dispatch someone like you.”

  He tossed her an annoyed scowl, as if her blasé reaction to him was a grave insult. “Dispatch someone like me,” he mocked her. “Who talks like that?”

  His displeasure was a sign this male didn't hear the word no often. She found haughty, spoiled men pathetic. Take away their concessions and what did you have? A babbling, whining child who'd run at the first blood drawn, but… he didn’t appear weak.

  As their gazes locked, she stared, refusing to cower from his dominance. A sense of warmth flashed in his gaze. Behind his dark eyes hid incredible strength. Surprised at the revelation, she stumbled back. Fear attacked, striking her confidence with a lethal blow. A sudden need to escape made her knees shake, her heart race, and her powers spike to uncomfortable levels. Self-doubt was an unfamiliar emotion for her.

  Do not be afraid, my child. Help him, a whisper blew through the trees.

  She glanced around, recognizing the Goddess's voice.

  Two Goddesses and one God represented the earth-bound supernatural communities. Cernnuous governed shifters, the larger community. The vampires sought counsel from the feisty Morrigan, and Flidais protected witches.

  Help him.

  Summer closed her eyes and swallowed the rock-hard lump in her throat. She lifted her chin, straightened her spine, and stood tall.

  “Don't stand there staring at the damn stars. Get me an ambulance or something. I think I broke my ankle.”

  Help him… help him… help him.

  The tone became desperate and incessant. Although the Goddess made the occasional appearance at coven meetings to speak with the coven's head magistrate, she remained distant from the untitled members such as Summer.

  What did her presence mean?

  The Goddess's urgent plea sparked Summer's inquisitiveness, the same rampant curiosity that got her in trouble over the years.

  “Fine, I’ll help the arrogant, pretty-boy human,” she muttered. A gentle, echoing chuckle drifted thr
ough her mind. “Yes, very amusing, my Goddess.” Summer pictured the deity raising an eyebrow to her insolent tone.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I'm dying here and she's babbling to the air. Are you schizo? Did you forget your medication or something?”

  “Come on.” She crouched beside him, ignoring his insults at her mental state. She slipped her hand under his arm and helped the big oaf stand.

  Chapter 2

  The mere touch of his bare flesh sent a shock rocketing through Summer's body. Nerve endings tingled and blood surged through her veins, rattling her knees, which trembled from the weight of her reaction. She composed herself before he noticed. She’d jump into the flames of the underworld before admitting how this human affected her. “For reasons I cannot fathom, I must help your supercilious ass.”

  “My what?”

  “Should I speak in smaller words so you can understand?” She could fling rude comments too.

  He growled. “I know what it means. What I don't get is how you can make assumptions since you don't know me enough to throw around insults.”

  “I know you and your friends terrorized my home and these woods for years. That is enough.”

  He diverted his eyes and his shoulders fell.

  Is shame weighing down his confidence? Or maybe regret for allowing himself to get caught. Hmm, I assume the later.

  “Where are you taking me? I won't be able to walk far. It feels like someone hit my ankle with a sledge hammer.””

  She ignored his question. If he had offered a politer tone, she might have answered him, but he didn't ask. He demanded. She refused to respond to demands.

  He grimaced as he rose to his full height. He shifted his weight on his other leg. Her original assessment was correct. He stood at least six inches taller than her five-foot-eight frame.

  Positioning her shoulder, she moved her face closer to his neck and her senses came alive, consumed by his unique quintessence. She bypassed the unnatural cologne, burnt tobacco, and stink of alcohol to pinpoint the reason for her sudden awareness. Past the artificial smells, she discovered his natural aroma, and it was pure male, woodsy and rich, laced with an exotic spice one might find hidden in the deepest jungle.

  “Did you just smell me?” A hint of amusement laced his inquiry, not to mention an edge of masculine smugness.

  His question broke the spell. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm sniffing back the allergies your perfume is aggravating.”

  “I have on cologne, not perfume, and for your information, it probably costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

  How dare he? Her casual gown displayed elegance while maintaining tradition. She created the dress herself with the finest butter-soft rayon and with painstaking precision. Each delicate flower was hand embroidered.

  What did he know, foolish human? Tell me why I should help him instead of kill him, Goddess, because he's six seconds away from a slap. More laughter danced through her head.

  “Perhaps it's better if we no longer speak,” Summer snapped.

  “Fine by me.”

  They struggled along the dark path in silence. Sweat poured off her in buckets. Her burden leaned on her shoulder more with each step, making her body burn. It wasn't mere humidity heating up her flesh, but the annoying tingle dancing across her hot skin, surging within her veins and barreling closer to her now wet channel—a fact she tried to ignore.

  Goddess be, if this is what it means to be aroused, I prefer to remain frigid.

  The wind stilled and calmness once again spread out over the thousands of acres she called home. Night creatures returned to their nocturnal serenade. Above, scattered across the onyx sky, stars twinkled to the rhythm.

  After fifteen minutes of silence, her house appeared at the edge of the path. A candle flickered in the one intact front window. She glared at the words Freak and Witch staining the shingles. The can of paint lay on the top step. She growled. At her side, her hand tightened into a fist. Her nails embedded in her palm.

  Why am I helping him? He desecrated my home. Her question was aimed at the Goddess herself. She received no answer. Not that she expected any.

  A grimace painted his face when they passed over the threshold. His obvious disapproval made her want to scream. “Please excuse the mess. Had I known you were coming, I would have saved you the trouble and burned the place down.”

  He raised his pierced eyebrow at her before letting his gaze sweep the room. “Did I step through a time portal or something?”

  “Summer.” Her sister peeked out from behind the doorframe, her voice shook.

  “Fetch me my kit, please.” Winter stared at their guest with wide eyes. “Now, sis,” Summer demanded.

  Winter jumped, spun on her heels, and scurried out of sight.

  “The kid's name is Winter? What's yours, Fall?”

  “No, if you must know… it's Summer.”

  His sudden cackle made her cringe. “You're kidding, right? You have a Spring somewhere around here? What kind of parent punishes their kids with names like Winter and Summer?”

  She didn't bother to mention her mother's name was Autumn. For the first time in her life, she wanted a normal human name. Her desire infuriated her. She pushed him toward the couch a tad too roughly. He hit the cushion hard.

  “Easy, what, are you trying to do, finish the job?”

  The idea had crossed her mind. One snap of her fingers and he'd shed his skin for scales and his rotten mouth for a forked tongue.

  “They are powerful names in our…” She frowned. She had almost said coven. “My parents are… hippies. They were raised on a commune in the 1960s. According to tradition, they named children after seasons and nature.”

  Thank the Goddess for her mother's relaxed views. Her insistence they learn human history and social science gave her a plausible explanation for their lifestyle. Had her grandmother been her sole teacher, she wouldn't have known how to thwart his suspicions. She would have simply dispatched him.

  He eyed the bookshelves lining an entire wall of the house. “What do you do with all of those?”

  “Those are what we call books. We read them.”

  “Wise ass.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing.” He showed her his back once again. “Why do you have so many?”

  “My sister is home-schooled, as I was. They're used for our studies. Others are for enjoyment. It can become tedious around here during the winter months.”

  “I don't see a television anywhere.” He lifted a brow. “I'm not even sure you have electricity.”

  “We have electricity, but we are taught not to abuse it. My parents live simple lives, and so they raised us with the same uncomplicated values.”

  “What? Like the Amish?”

  Why am I explaining anything to him? She planted her hands on her hips. “Who are you to judge my family?”

  “I'm Kian Lancaster.”

  His introduction made her pause. “Kian is a powerful forename.” In her coven, Kian was a name given to aristocrats.

  He shrugged. “It's just a name.”

  Winter hurried into the room and placed a large wooden box at her feet, and then immediately ducked behind Summer's back.

  “Come on, pretty girl. Don't be afraid.” His tone morphed into a gentle pitch, both calm and reassuring.

  The soothing sound caressed Summer's skin with the same gentleness of silk. His sudden tender display was so unlike his earlier demeanor. Did someone else now sit before her?

  Summer raised a brow. “You attacked our home in the middle of the night, why wouldn't she be afraid?”

  He jerked back as if slapped, but recovered quick and lifted his square chin. “Well, you're not afraid.”

  “I am not a child.” Summer stood straighter and grinned.

  He leaned forward. His warm coffee-colored stare rolled over her body, making her feel… exposed. “I know.”

  Her smile fell.

  He flashed a wolfish grin as his e
yes locked onto her breasts. As if prompted, her nipples pebbled. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to block the effects of her traitorous hormones. To her dismay, her movement caught his attention, shifting his gaze. Now he stared straight into her irises.

  “Hey.” Winter scowled with her arms crossed over her chest. “I am not a child either, you know. I'm only seven years younger than you, Summer.”

  They both ignored Winter's rant. Instead, they continued to stare intently at each other, fighting a silent battle of domination and desire. Who'd be the first to fall? She'd hang from a witch's gallows by her wrists before she surrendered. Did he have the same determination?

  Time felt as though it shifted to a crawl under his scrutiny. Although, it couldn't have been more than a minute before Kian broke eye contact. He scooted back. Resting his elbows on his knees, he sighed in defeat. She grinned. Victory was hers, but she didn't understand how big of a prize she had won until the serious expression set on his face.

  “Shit.” He raked his fingers through his spiky hair. “Listen, I'm not good at apologies, but here goes nothing. I'm sorry. What my friend did to your house was messed up. I had no part in it. Eddie did the damage on his own. His drinking has become out of control. By the time I realized what he was doing tonight, it was too late to stop him.”

  Convinced his apology was genuine, Summer said, “Apology accepted.”

  “Did you guys even hear me?” whined Winter.

  “Oh, and your dress… it's very pretty,” he added.

  Winter grunted, annoyed at their refusal to listen to her. “I'll show you who's a child.” She whistled loud. Pepper and Snow must have heard her distress. They came barreling in the living room.

  Kian jumped on the sofa and squealed with the same enthusiasm as a woman spotting a mouse, a painful leap according to his grimace, yet amusing to watch. Summer bit her lip to stop a chuckle from erupting. Winter didn't bother. She giggled without restraint.