Wickedest Witch [MultiFormat]
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eBook by Eve Langlais
eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
eBook Description: Evangaline is not a very nice witch, but ask her if she cares. However, she does have a healthy sexual appetite, and when an uncouth shifter starts appearing in her fantasies, it's not long before she makes her erotic mind play a reality. But everyone knows a wicked witch can't fall in love, or can she? Ryker, a hot and muscled shifter, knows his size and dominating presence intimidates women, all except for one curvy witch he just can't get out of his mind. Set to a task only the two of them can accomplish, he discovers wickedness has its uses, especially in the bedroom. Dealing with vamps, a wedding from hell and a cackling gnome named Rumpelstiltskin, will these two wicked beings survive and, even more disturbing, decide to stay together?
eBook Publisher: Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver Books, Published: 2010
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2010
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34 Reader Ratings:
"You're just too evil for me," Derek said with a shrug, trying to look apologetic.
Evangaline wanted to retort, but he spoke the truth, a nasty habit of his. Why is it evil to take what I want? It's not as if I kill people--often. The way I look at it is if they're too stupid to get out of my way then they deserve to die before they do something even stupider, like procreate. She found the remark by her soon-to-be ex-lover ironic, for Derek made his living as a thief, but unlike Robin Hood, he didn't steal to give to the poor. Derek stole to supplement his rather rich lifestyle, yet the smug bastard had the nerve to call her evil?
"And what brought this on?" she asked, pursing her lips and placing her hands on her hips, a sign of agitation he foolishly ignored. "You knew about my reputation before we started dating."
Derek ran a hand through his hair. "I knew what others said, but I thought they exaggerated. I didn't think you were that bad. I mean come on? Did you really have to turn all their candy into broccoli? They were just kids."
Evangaline wanted to roll her eyes. I can't believe he's still harping on that. It happened weeks ago. "I don't approve of Halloween, making fun of witches and what not," she said. She couldn't help her yearly annoyance at the way the media had bastardized a sacred holiday, one the mystical society she belong to revered. "Served them right. Besides, isn't the media always telling us that children need to eat healthier?"
"See? This is why I can't be with you. You just don't get it."
"Get what?" she frowned. "I don't believe this. You're dumping me?" Evangaline knew she should feel something, after all, they'd dated--make that fucked--for close to three months, a new record for her. Yet, as she looked upon his lanky frame, the only feeling she could claim? Annoyance. How dare he break up with me, and right before my sister's wedding, too. Now where would she find a date--she'd scared off most of the male population already. As for those that remained, well, they were single for a reason.
"I'm sure you'll find someone else. Someone who will--" He paused for a moment as he searched for diplomatic way of breaking up. She should have told him not to bother. "--appreciate your unique qualities."
"Derek, you really aren't too bright are you. Then again, I didn't date you for your brains." No, she'd dated him for the sex--Derek lacked many things, but he sported a thick one and, with a little direction from her, learned how to use it. Evangaline arched a perfect brow at him and smiled sweetly, perhaps a tad too much judging by his blanching face. "You really should have ignored Ms. Manners and done this from a much safer location--say on another continent. Good bye Derek." With a waggle of her fingers, Evangaline drew on her innate magical power and turned him into a rat. She enjoyed meting out karma, in this case a body to match his actions.
With a squeak, Derek scurried off and Evangaline laughed. To think he'd had the nerve to break up with her. He should count himself lucky she hadn't turned him into a grease spot.
They didn't call her the Wickedest Witch for nothing.
Ryker slouched on the bar stool, a pleasant drunken buzz muting the natters of the crowd and making the buck toothed shifter--by the smell, I'd say rabbit--beside him look much more attractive. Hell, he didn't really care what she looked like. I'm horny and any female body will do.
Lurching towards her, he tripped over his own feet and staggered hard against the bar. Startled, she scurried off.
"Damn." Ryker perched back on his stool and signaled Barry behind the bar for another beer.
Barry shook his balding head at him. "I think you've had quite enough, pal. Time you called it a night."
"What are you? My mutha?" slurred Ryker. Okay, so I might be a little drunk. Big fucking deal. I'm a big boy, and it's not as if I'm driving.
"What's up with you?" asked Barry wiping down the bar in front of him. "I've never seen you like this before. Does this have anything to do with your visit back home?"
"Nope." Like he'd lay bare the details of that embarrassment. So much for doing his family proud and following tradition. Not that Ryker truly cared about those things, he'd just done it--or sadly attempted to--for his mother.
Barry just gave him a hard look then sighed. "Drinking won't make whatever happened go away."
"Dass what you tink," said Ryker, shaking his head, trying to dislodge the cloud that fogged his mind and words. Barry went off to serve other folks, and Ryker debated making his way home--alone. The pickings left in the bar had devolved into couples and Ryker did not do threesomes, well except that one time with the best friends--there wasn't a man alive who would have said no to that pair of wood nymphs.
Standing proved to be a difficult prospect though, made even more so when the room began to spin. Sitting down hard, Ryker rested his arms on the counter and put his face in his hands.
This is fucking pathetic.
The bitter scent of coffee--black--drifted into his cocoon of self-inflicted misery.
"Drink up, old man," said his best friend, make that only friend, Barry. An acerbic tongue and hot temper did not endear him to many people.
Wrapping big hands around the warm mug, Ryker gulped down some of the piping hot brew, the instant caffeine jolt bringing some clarity back to his mind.
As he drained the last of the java and put the cup down, the door to the bar opened, and in blew a sharp, cold breeze, which brought with it a woman. Ryker noticed her immediately, as did his inner beast, even though he personally found her a tad too skinny for his taste.
Model slim and tall, her shoulder length black hair swung in a straight bob framing an angular face. She sauntered to the bar like she owned the place and ordered a glass of red wine. Ryker's nose twitched as the sweet smell of shampoo and a musky perfume wafted over from her direction. As if bespelled, Ryker found himself unable to look away. I have to talk to her.
Feeling his stare upon her, the woman looked over, her eyes cool and appraising. He especially liked the condescending smirk on her full, luscious lips--women with character always drew him.
Ryker's lips curled into a masculine grin that had gotten more than one pair of panties dropped. Raising a brow, she looked him up and down, then she sniffed in disdain before turning away.
Ryker's dark brows drew together in consternation. Dyke. Even drunk, most women fawned over him. One night with me and I bet I can get her to play for the right team.
Barry, seeing his scowl, came over with a chuckle. "Don't feel bad, Ryker. She's a cold one."
"You know her?" Ryker said, still facing her even though she'd turned to give him her back.
Lowering his voice, Barry leaned closer. "I know who she is, and I can say with great confidence that you'd have to be insane to get involved with her even for one night."
"Why?" Ryker asked, intrigued.
"You are looking at the Wickedest Witch." The name, an infamous one whispered about almost as much as his, caught Ryker's attention and he swiveled towards Barry. "I kid you not. She moved into town about four or five months ago. She started coming to the bar around the time you left for home."
Ryker shook his head. "No way. You're fucking with me. I thought she was supposed to be an old crone."
"Could be," said Barry, whispering while shooting nervous glances at the woman. "She is a witch after all. I've heard they can cast spells to make themselves look like anyone they want."
If that were true, then it was a shame she'd chosen tall and skinny 'cause Ryker liked his women with a little plush, it made the pumping more comfortable. However, beggars couldn't be choosers, and Ryker still had an itch. "Spell or not, she's hot and I'm horny. How bad could she be?"
Barry laughed, a sound he quickly tempered. "You've been out of touch for a while my friend. Trust me, she is just as bad as the rumors say. You remember Derek?"
Ryker did vaguely--a thief with some magical skill for cloaking. "What about him?"
"He dated her for a while, and then one day he disappeared. Rumor is she turned him into a door mat."
Ryker put little stock in rumors, especially since there were plenty flying around about him, and while some had a semblance of truth, others would rival the tallest tales. Witch or not, I want to get to know her. Something about her is pulling at me. Not to mention his beast hadn't stopped pacing and chuffing inside since it had scented her.
"Derek's a wimp," said Ryker. "A pretty girl like her needs a man--a real man."
"And let me guess, you think you're that guy?" said Barry rolling his eyes. "Care to wager on it?"
"Damned straight. What are we playing for?" Ryker found himself perking up from the funk he'd languished in since his return to town.
"I wager you can't even get her to smile."
Ryker felt like laughing. This would be too easy. "You're on. I win and you clear my tab for the night."
"Lose and you tell me what happened when you went home."
Cocky and confident, Ryker didn't hesitate slapping his hand against Barry's. "You're on. I feel richer already."
When the big brute, who'd eyed her since she walked in, lurched over to the stool beside her, Evangaline had to restrain a shudder at the alcoholic stench he emitted. Had he bathed in the beer? Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she tried to ignore his imposing presence, a surprisingly hard task. Built like a brick house, the stranger might have been attractive had he at least shaven the bristly shadow that covered his face. Intoxicated, and dressed one step above a vagrant, he redefined the term diamond in the rough. The interest in his eye made her want to sigh. Great. I wonder what lame pickup line he's going to try. If this weren't the only magic friendly bar in town, she'd have stopped coming here long ago, but sometimes a witch wanted to relax in the company of other people--make that beings--without trying to hide behind a mask of humanity. Not to mention she still hadn't found an escort for her sister's wedding and with the date drawing closer, just about any man, or creature, would do.
"Hey there, cutie. I don't suppose you'd give me a smile?" Her would-be suitor grinned at her engagingly, and while another type of woman might have found it endearing, Evangaline had yet to move on from her men-were-scum stage. However, even in her foul mood, to her surprise, something about him made her libido take notice, which totally pissed her off. She hated surprises.
"Why don't you try your lame pickup line on someone a little drunker and blonder?" She gave him credit when his smile didn't falter.
"Aah, cute and with attitude. Come on, you know you think I'm hot. What say you and I head over to my place and get to know each other in a more intimate sense? The springs in my mattress could use some exercise."
Evangaline's eyes widened at his crude attempt to get in her panties even as said panties got damp in the crotch. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Now leave before I turn you into a toad." Her unexpected bodily reaction made her tone and words harsh. She didn't like the baffling erotic interest her body had for this stranger. Has he cast a lust spell on me?
"Sounds like foreplay to me. Tell you what, how about instead I turn into your bucking bronco and you can be the cow girl that likes to ride astride." He said this with a cocky grin and finished with a wink.
Her jaw dropped at his effrontery, then tightened. She could hear the barkeep's guffaws as he unabashedly listened in. The nerve! I'll teach him to fuck with a witch. She ignored the titillating vision he'd painted even as her body reacted, her nipples tightening in interest.
Evangaline waggled her fingers and ... nothing happened. Frowning, she wiggled them again and pushed harder at her magic. Again, nada.
The drunken idiot laughed. "Sorry, little witch. I'm protected against direct magic, being a shifter and all, but I promise I can still make lots of magic in the bedroom."
Figured the idiot with the crass pickup lines would be a bloody shifter and immune to her spells. Not really a problem, Evangaline had more than one trick up her sleeve. Hooking her foot around the bottom of the stool he'd perched on, she yanked it and dumped her would-be suitor on the floor. She also poured her glass of wine over him for good measure.
As he lay there looking dumbfounded, she laughed finally; her voice husky with derision. "Consider that a no," she said with a cold smile before sidestepping his prone body and heading for the door. She swept out into the night, puzzled at the fact her pulse raced and her cheeks were flushed with heat.
How did that uncouth beast turn me on? Even stranger, why does a part of me wish I'd accepted his offer and gone back to his place to check out the springs in his mattress?
Ryker rose from the bar floor and shook himself like a wet dog before sitting back on his stool. Taking the towel, Barry handed him, he dabbed at the wine the witch had poured over him. Man, that woman's got spunk. Betcha she'd be wild in bed. Maybe if I took her from behind her bony hips wouldn't bruise me. Then again, I'd first have to convince her to spread her legs far enough to enjoy herself.
Barry shook his head at him. "You just had to antagonize her didn't you? Count yourself lucky you are a shifter or right now I'd probably be mopping up a puddle."
"Ah, please, she's a pussy cat underneath all that attitude. She just has sharp claws. Now I believe I won, so since my tab is now paid up, hand over another beer would you and tell me more about this wicked witch."
Ryker found his interest aroused--along with other parts--by her feisty attitude. The deadly tone she'd used when she'd threatened had sent shivers--of a good kind--up and down Ryker's spine. Skinny or not, the girl had guts, something Ryker rarely saw in women as they tended to mostly be intimidated by his size and reputation.
Not to mention scared sometimes, too, he thought with annoyance.
He had to admit, even if only to himself, that the thought of being with someone who lacked fear and possessed the courage to stand up to him was a major turn on. What a pity the only available woman he'd found so far with that quality ended up being a witch. But damn, I bet she's wicked in bed.