CHAPTER 3

Christopher woke to the feel of a rough tongue on his cheek. He opened one bleary eye to find Alasdair staring at him and purring.

He lifted his head. His workshop. He’d fallen asleep in his workshop. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and he doubted it would be the last. He looked down at the book spread out below him, The Registry of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks, and groaned.

Alannah Evans. A witch, not a wizard.

Well. That will teach me to be careful about how I phrase my summoning spells.

He’d rechecked the runes, the copy of the paper he’d burned that night a month ago, and slowly realized his error. He hadn’t specified a wizard mate, just one of an older lineage, someone who was born from power, with magic to complement his own.

Apparently the Lord and Lady had seen fit to send him a witch. Joy.

And it was beyond too late now. His wolf was completely delighted with the woman upstairs currently curled up in their den, leaving her scent behind on his sheets and pillows. He wanted to go up there and wallow in that scent, have it wash over him until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

And that was only the beginning. He wanted to lick every inch of her body until all he could taste, would ever taste, was her. He longed to thrust inside her, pulling climax after climax out of her until they were both limp and sated, then do all of it all over again.

He buried his head in his hands and groaned. Now what do I do?

Witches and wizards tended to avoid each other, and with good reason. The precise way wizards performed magic was the antithesis of the breezy way witches performed the same tasks. The hours spent carefully crafting spells would drive any self-respecting witch insane. The way witches tended to pick up seemingly random objects and blithely cast a spell that garnered the same results drove wizards nuts. Add in the resentment witches felt about how wizards could do things they couldn’t do, and the contempt some wizards openly showed towards witches, and you had one hell of a mess destined to give one tired, grumpy wizard a serious migraine.

And the sad part was, just speaking to her last night had shown him he had no choice. Even if he could reverse the summoning, demand a redo from the Gods, he wouldn’t. She was just so … beautiful to him. It wasn’t her shoulder length, dark brown hair. It wasn’t those wide chocolate eyes, her strong jaw, her full lips, or the way she barely came to his chin, causing every protective instinct he had to go on high alert.

No, it was the glimpses of her he’d seen last night that sealed his fate.

Funny, smart, warily cautious but following him anyway, she’d been brave, strong, resilient. His.

He’d have to woo his reluctant little witch. He smiled, remembering her reaction to him last night. If he had any doubts about whether or not he could succeed, remembering the quickly banked hunger in her face removed them.

And he’d have to deal once and for all with Cole. If Cole tried to lay a hand on Alannah again Christopher wouldn’t be able to keep from killing the son of a bitch.

Standing with a sigh, he headed back up to the kitchen, hoping a nice warm breakfast and some hot coffee would earn him a nice warm reception from the woman in his bedroom.

* * * *

Lana picked up the phone next to the bed and dialed. “Hey, Grammy.” “Well?”

Lana frowned. She pulled the aqua colored sheet farther up her body and wondered yet again when her underwear had disappeared. Tricky dog. “Well what?”

“Did you do the dirty?”

“Grammy!”

“Well, sweetheart, I looked him up in The Registry. I must say, he’s … exquisite. And a Beckett, a very powerful family.” Grammy paused. “Are you saying you told him no?”

She doesn’t have to make it sound like I’d be insane not to do the horizontal bunny hop with the man. “I didn’t get the chance.” Lana slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. “I mean, we talked. Just talked.”

“Well, look him up, dear. I think you’ll be surprised.” “Grammy, something … odd, is going on.”

“Which odd, dear?”

“He turns into a dog. A wolf, actually.” “Of course he does. He’s a Beckett.”

Lana gritted her teeth. “You told me shapeshifters were a myth.” “No I didn’t. I told you natural shapeshifters are a myth. Cursed

shapeshifters actually exist.”

Lana resisted the urge to bang her head against the wooden headboard until the pain of this conversation stopped. “There’s a difference?”

“Worlds of difference, sweetheart.”

“Oh. Of course.” She remembered what he’d told her the night before. “What happened to the witch that cursed them?”

Grammy was silent for a moment. “Have you ever heard of Theresa Langhorn?”

“Theresa Langhorn? Isn’t she the one who—”

“Yes.”

Lana shuddered. Damn. Just, damn. “I’d say she paid.” “Threefold, dear. Threefold.”

The threefold rule: whatsoever you sent out into the world would return to you threefold. It was the one major check on the power of a witch or wizard that whatever you did would be done to you in triplicate. If you sent out love, peace and happiness, that would return to you. But if you sent out hatred, pain and degradation…

No one was quite sure how warlocks got around that little impediment, and no true witch or wizard was willing to find out. Grammy liked to say they were probably on a deferred payment plan.

But every now and then a witch lost her temper enough, or a wizard became enraged enough, to show the rest of the magical community why they followed the threefold rule. Theresa Langhorn was a perfect, shining example. “Does she still have people in to comb the fur between her toes?”

“Now, dear, we don’t speak ill of the stupid.” Lana grinned.

“One last thing before your young man brings you breakfast.”

He’s making me breakfast? A small part of Lana’s heart warmed towards him. It would have been bigger, but just then the sheet slipped, reminding her of her underwear-less state. Tricky dog. “What’s that, Grammy?”

“Trust your instincts.”

“Want to be a great-grandma that badly, huh?” Lana slapped her hand back over her mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? She never, ever hopped into bed with strange men, let alone strange wolf-man wizard hybrids!

Okay, so, she was kind of already in the bed, but that was all his fault.

So was her nakedness. And she had no idea where the bathroom was.

That was all his fault, too.

She ignored her grandmother’s laughter, listening for the sound of Christopher’s footfalls on the stairs. “I think he’s coming.”

“Not yet he isn’t.”

“Grammy!”

“Good bye, sweetheart. Oh, and remember, he’ll protect you no matter what.”

“No matter what what?”

But Grammy didn’t answer. She’d already hung up the phone.

“And the award for most cryptic comment goes to Annabelle Evans.” Lana hung up the phone and wondered which door lead to the bathroom. There were three of them in this ultra-modern, masculine bedroom. The only feminine detail she could see was the ebony stained bed. It was a four- poster, with rails up top for soft gauzy curtains that Christopher hadn’t bothered to hang. The comforter was a dark teal, the sheets aqua. The walls were a darker gold than the kitchen, warming the room up. There were three doors, all closed. She had to assume the one across from the bed was the door that led out of the room. One of the others had to lead to the bathroom.

God, she hoped one of them led to the bathroom. She felt like she was about to explode.

*

“Bathroom!”

Christopher plastered himself up against the wall just in time. The naked nymph rushed by him, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Fuck. By the way, nice suit. Is it Armani?”

He manfully swallowed his laugh. “Yes, it is and it is. The master bath is through the other door.”

“Thanks!”

She opened the door and streaked past him, the jacket of his suit wrapped around her. He turned, sighing in disappointment when she

slammed into the correct room. He almost choked on the laugh at her groan of relief.

When she stepped back into the bedroom, he had himself under control. “Feeling better?” He turned, stopping when he caught sight of her. The charcoal gray jacket hung on her, covering her from neck to mid thigh, the vee of the jacket revealing the tempting swell of her breasts. “Good morning.”

She bit her lip. “Good morning.” One of her delicate toes dug into his carpet. “Where are my clothes?”

“Clothes?” The way she was digging her toe in the carpet had her knee pushing back and forth, back and forth, swinging open the bottom edge of the jacket ever so slightly. Christopher could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth, the bare glimpse of thigh she kept giving him mesmerizing. If she didn’t stop soon, his cock was going to burst right out of his jeans.

“The things you put on your body when you aren’t wearing your fur?” “Fur?” He could cover her in fur. He could see them now, naked, skin to

skin, writhing on those furs while he took her over and over again.

She looked down at what he was staring at and squeaked. Her toe stopped digging into the carpet. Damn it. “Christopher!”

“Hmm?” He brought his eyes back up to her face. The amused exasperation there reassured him. He hadn’t frightened her with his lust.

Good.

“My clothes. Where are they?” “They’re in the dryer.”

“May I have them please?”

No. “I’ll bring them up shortly.” He waved towards the table by the window. “Breakfast?”

She eyed the table warily. “No woo-woo stuff in the coffee this morning?”

He didn’t allow his shock to show in his face. “Woo-woo stuff?”

She approached the table. “You put something in the chocolate last night, didn’t you?” Apparently he didn’t hide his wince well enough. She sat with a sigh. “You know if my Grammy hadn’t told me to trust my instincts you’d be in serious shit right now.”

Thank you Grandmother Evans. He’d have to write the woman an appropriate thank you note. Possibly after the wedding. “What are your instincts telling you?”

She studied him for a moment before picking up her coffee cup. “To trust you. Why, I have no clue, considering you drugged me last night.”

He sat across from her, loving the look of his jacket on her skin. He’d think of her now every time he wore that suit. “You can, you know. Trust me, I mean. And you needed some sleep last night. I was worried the flight through the woods would keep you awake all night.”

“Uh-huh.” Her skeptical look spoke volumes, but apparently she was willing to let it slide. “What exactly is going on, anyway?”

He thought about lying to her for exactly two seconds. He had one shot at this. There was no way he was going to fuck it up. And something told him that lying to her was not a good way to get his little witch to trust him. “Do you remember how I told you there was a price to pay for learning to live with the wolf?”

“Yes.” She took a bite of her eggs, sighing softly. “Mmm. You’re a very good cook, by the way.”

He actually blushed. That was the first time a woman had ever complimented him on his cooking. It meant more to him than any compliment he’d ever received before, mostly because she was the one who gave it.

She smiled softly. “Go on.”

He cleared his throat. He had the feeling he’d just handed her something he’d miss like hell one day. “Yes. Well, that price for learning to live with the wolf was taking mates.”

“Mates.” He nodded.

“You mean more than one?”

“No!” Lord, don’t let her think that. I’m going to be in enough trouble from stuff I do, let alone stuff I don’t. “I meant that each Beckett in every generation casts a spell that pulls their perfect mate to them. We never know what fate is going to send us.” He kissed her knuckles, enjoying the soft flush that crept up her cheeks. “Fate sent me you.”

She put her fork down. “You’re essentially werewolves.”

He shrugged. He’d heard worse terms than that. “I suppose. That was the compromise the human made with the wolf. One mate, one forever mate that pleases us both.”

“Forever mate?”

He nodded. “Wolves mate for life.”

He loved watching the emotions that crossed her face in rapid succession. “Me?”

He grinned, knowing she’d see the hunger in it. The possession. Hell, the pride. She was taking this a great deal better than some of the Beckett women had.

Right up until she shrieked, that was. “No way!” She leapt from the table. “No fucking way!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to allow hurt to seep in. She barely knew him. She was entitled to a little rant. Still, what was wrong with him? “Why not?”

“You’re a wizard!”

He blinked. So what? “I’m also a werewolf.”

She waved that away, like it was nothing. “I’m a witch!” “And?”

“Witches and wizards don’t marry!”

“Mate.”

She glared at him. “We’d kill each other inside of a week, and you know

it.”

“No I don’t.” He was beginning to enjoy the sight of her pacing, waving

her arms, the ends of the suit jacket flapping at the tips of her fingers. Each stride revealed a lovely length of leg that had him practically drooling.

“You’re too rigid.”

“Damn straight.” He was becoming so rigid it was beginning to be uncomfortable.

“I’m … what did you say?”

“Hmm? Oh. Nothing. Continue, please.” “You’ll think I’m too flighty.”

“Mm-hmm.”

She waved her arms, the bottom of the jacket hitting the very tops of her thighs. His knees wobbled when a slight glimpse of her pussy teased him before her arms lowered. “The first time I cast a spell you’d feel the urge to “correct” me.”

“And the first time you saw me turn into a wolf?” He nearly fell out of his chair when she made a rude sound. “That … doesn’t bother you?”

She looked confused. “Why would it?”

“Why would … woman, do you have any idea how many potential partners have turned me down when they hear my last name?” Christopher

stalked closer to her, aware he sounded enraged. In some ways he was. The defining characteristic of his family, the one that he always thought would be a sticking point for any potential bride, and she dismissed it like it was nothing, harping instead on the fact that he was a wizard?

Her low mutter almost got lost in his low growl. “Oh, sure, throw your conquests in my face.”

He cupped a hand to his ear. “Care to repeat that?”

She snarled at him. “Look, Captain Oblivious. Witch. Wizard. Oil.

Water.”

“Werewolf.” He cupped her chin, enjoying the way her eyes went wide. “Tasty morsel.” He leaned down and licked her neck. He damn near groaned. She tasted incredible.

“I’m not entirely certain I’m on the menu yet.” He smiled against her neck. “You said yet.” “Tricky dog,” she grumbled.

He laughed, pulling her into his arms. He lifted his head to stare down into her sulky face. “How about a trial run?”

“You don’t even know my name.” “Alannah Evans.”

She smacked him in the arm. Hard. “Ow!”

“How do you know that? Your spell?”

Well, maybe one little lie wouldn’t hurt. “Yes.”

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s my purse?”

Busted. “In the great room.”

“And did it just happen to fall open at some point in the last twelve hours?”

“Possibly.” He made sure he had a good hold of her waist and prepared to throw his thigh in the way of any wandering knees.

When she growled at him, he had to laugh. She sounded so fiercely cute.

Not that he’d tell her that. He was a smart man, and enjoyed living with both his balls intact.

“Alannah, I just wanted to know your name.” “Congratulations, now you know. Give me my clothes.”

He sighed. “I didn’t get to finish my story last night. Would you like to hear it over breakfast?”

“With my clothes?”

He rolled his eyes. “All right. I’ll return with them shortly.” He walked to the door of the bedroom. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You really enjoy ordering me to stay, don’t you?” He snorted, amused.

She crossed her arms, the long ends of his suit jacket flapping over her arms, the edge of the jacket creeping up her thighs. “Besides, unlike some people I know, running around naked in the woods is not my idea of a good time.”

He allowed a slow smile to cross his face at the thought of her running naked through his forest. His gaze ate her up from top to bottom, remembering the look of her dashing through his bedroom. “That’s too bad.”

Her face was flushed, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and heat. “Clothes, perv!”

He laughed softly and walked out of the bedroom, ignoring her mutters. He returned swiftly with her clothes, hoping to catch one more glimpse of creamy thigh. He’d taken the time last night to make sure her outfit was clean and dry, knowing she’d more than likely want her clothes. He, on the other hand, would be more than happy to keep her naked for the rest of her life.

He handed her clothes to her with a small bow. “Here you are, m’lady.”

She took them, smiling warily. “Thanks.” She gestured towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.” She headed for the bathroom, giving him an unreadable look before closing the door behind her.

Christopher settled into one of the chairs by the small table, filling his plate with food. She might not be hungry, but he was starving.

She came out a few minutes later dressed in everything but the poncho, socks and boots she’d been wearing the night before. “Thank you for washing my clothes.”

He smiled, trying to look harmless. “You’re welcome.” He stood and held out her chair. “Are you ready to finish breakfast?”

She studied him intently for a moment, the scrutiny making him vaguely uneasy, before settling daintily into the chair. “Thank you.” She took another bite of the cooling eggs, then a sip of the coffee. “Mmm. It’s good, even cold.” She smiled at him. “Now. Forever mates. Ancestral curses. A daily yearning for Kibbles ‘n Bits.”

Christopher winced. “Hmm. Yes, where were we?”

“Let’s start with what makes you think I’m your mate and go from there.” She took a bite of crisp bacon, her eyes closing in pure pleasure. “Damn. Okay, for bacon this good you get to call me Lana.”

He swallowed hard. He wanted to see that look on her face while he fucked her into the mattress.

Her eyes opened and something of what he was feeling must have shown in his face, because she sat back, wiping the pleasure away with a quick shake of her head.

Christopher took a sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the way his hand trembled. He’d never wanted anyone so badly in his entire life. What made it worse was his wolf pushing him to pounce and mate. He was having a hard time resisting both his own instincts and his wolf’s. “About a month ago I cast a spell.”

“A love spell?” She was frowning at him now, her eyes turning hard.

He glared back. “Do I look like I want the universe to slap me upside the head?” Her expression eased. “Wizards follow the threefold rule as well, you know.” And one of the worst spells to cast was a spell that forced someone to do or be something they weren’t. The Lord and Lady took a dim view to that sort of thing.

She had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

“The spell is one my ancestor came up with after several years of research. Each Beckett male, when … certain feelings become overwhelming, gather the ingredients, place the Beckett ring in the circle, and cast the spell.”

“The Beckett ring?”

“It’s the ring my great-grandfather used in the spell to call his mate to him. It became my great-grandmother’s engagement ring.” He liked the soft smile that curved her lips. “When his brother was ready, the ring was lent to him, the spell cast, and his mate came to him within a month.”

She sat back in her chair, frowning thoughtfully. “So every Beckett male casts this spell and boom! Instant girlfriend?”

“More like instant fiancée.”

Her expression turned from intrigued to mildly panicked within seconds. “Uh…”

He placed his hand over hers, reveling in the feel of her smooth skin. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep the engagement short.” He kissed her fingers,

resisting the urge to taste her skin again. He already knew she would be addictive.

“And you think it was the spell that brought me here?”

“I’m certain of it.” He sat back, sipping from his coffee. Her face was so expressive. Every emotion she felt flitted across it. He was certain she’d never be able to tell him a lie without his knowing it.

“Well, bud, let me set you straight. It turns out that I was there for a bachelorette party, with male strippers and everything, and if my car hadn’t broken down on the road, you’d never have met me.”

She sat back with an air of triumph, oblivious to the fact that his coffee mug had begun to crack. Male strippers? She’d been around half naked men last night? He had the urge to shred the bright turquoise v-neck T-shirt she was wearing, knowing where she’d been the night before. It read Go Forth and Sin Some More. He’d smiled when he’d seen it last night, but now? Now it needed to meet a trash can. He set the mug down carefully on his empty plate, hoping she wouldn’t notice the slowly spreading coffee under the mug. “And what drove you into the woods, Lana? Lust?”

She opened her mouth, the closed it, looking startled. “Instinct.” “Instinct.” Interesting. “And what kept you from accepting Cole’s offer

of help?”

She frowned again. “Was that his name?” “Mm-hmm.”

“He was a wizard.” She waved her hands vaguely. “And his aura was funky.”

He bit his lip to keep from smiling. “Funky?”

“Yuk it up, furball, but you didn’t see the colors that were swirling there. Black and icky green. Not the good green like grass, but that glowing eerie shit that scares you in bad horror movies.”

“Furball?” Wait. “How did you know he was a wizard?”

She shrugged. “The same way I knew you were a wizard. It’s in your magic.”

He blinked. “I had no idea you were a witch.”

“Really?” The surprise in her voice turned into a smug smile. “Cool.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can show you the spell I cast to call you to me if you like.”

She tilted her head. “You think I’ll understand your spell?” “I don’t see why not.”

Her mouth opened again but nothing came out, the surprise there nearly causing him to laugh. She must not have expected him to offer to show her the spell. “Huh. I never thought I’d see the day a wizard offered to show a witch his workroom.” She stood. “Bring it on.”

He grinned. “Follow me.”

“Where have I heard that before?” She followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Oh, wait, isn’t that the time just before you drugged my hot chocolate?”

“Can you prove I drugged your hot chocolate?” She growled, then huffed out a breath. “No.”

“Well then.” He opened the door to his workroom. “Here you are.” She walked past him into the room that only family was allowed into.

His wards let her in easily, barely rippling around her. “Whoa.” She put her hand to her forehead. “What was that?”

“My protection spells.”

Her eyes went wide, her face paling. “Am I about to experience being inside out?”

He huffed out a startled laugh. “No, of course not!”

She turned to look up at him, her gaze following him when he moved into the workroom. “Because you’re with me, right?”

He merely raised one brow. “Right?”

He sat behind his desk, ignoring the open Registry. He had no doubt she would be looking him up in it soon enough, the same way he’d looked her up. “It let you through because it knows you’re family.”

She sat in front of his desk with a thump. “Oh.” He leaned forward. “Welcome home.”