Hecate's Own: Heart's Desire, Book 2 Read online

  When a wolf is hot for a witch, the sparks can be downright dangerous.

  Heart’s Desire, Book 2

  Zachary Beckett has finally done something right. He saved his brother’s life, and his reward is a ticket to Cleveland to train as a witch. Except every spell he casts wreaks havoc—until he’s banished to the children’s classroom.

  At least his teacher is easy on the eyes. It isn’t long before the heat is rising, and it has nothing to do with a bubbling cauldron.

  Jo has never met a walking Karma bomb like Zachary. His blue eyes haunt her, his body is made for sin, and his magic? The less said about that the better. But Jo is determined to help him, even if she has to fight their mutual attraction, tooth and nail.

  When Zach discovers he’s been operating under a hex, he and Jo come together in a blazing-hot ritual to break its hold and reveal Zach’s destiny to fight evil. But the old enemy who cast the spell won’t give up until every Beckett male is stripped of his mate. Which could leave Zach to howl in agony forever—and doom Jo to a fate worse than death.

  Warning: This novel contains explicit sex, graphic language, a sexy, awkward, blue-eyed wolf-witch and a woman who can make his dreams come true.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Hecate’s Own

  Copyright © 2013 by Dana Marie Bell

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-096-7

  Edited by Tera Kleinfelter

  Cover by Lyn Taylor

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2013

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Hecate’s Own

  Dana Marie Bell

  Dedication

  To Mom, who brought home the cutest little yip-yip dogs and named them Max and Ruby. Now my kids are begging for furry little bark machines. Thanks for that.

  To Dad, who adores his little kitty Luna(tic), even when she decides to sit on his head.

  And to Dusty, who adores our big woof-woof dog and both his little kitties. Thanks to the loving help of Foster Kitty and Thumper, who tirelessly dedicated themselves to this research, he has decided he’d much rather be a salt lick than a pin cushion.

  Prologue

  Lana grabbed him. “Stop thinking like a wizard and start thinking like a witch!”

  Zach turned to her, his eyes blank from shock. “Think like a witch.” He blinked, his eyes refocusing, his gaze centering on the shield. His expression became cold and certain. “No. Not wizard, not witch.” He stepped back and raised his arms. Power arched between his hands, glowing above him, clean and pure, a powerful counterpoint to the rancid energies behind the barrier. “Me.”

  Pure white light blasted into the barrier separating him from his brother and the warlock intent on killing him. He could sense the demon rising through the foul circle, knew what Cole Godwin intended to do to Christopher.

  He couldn’t stand by and do nothing while his brother died.

  The protections around the dueling circle were strong. It would take him time, time he didn’t have, to wear them down.

  He couldn’t stop. He had to save Christopher. He had to get to Cole and take him down before he hurt anyone else.

  But something happened, something that shocked him to the core. Christopher threw something into the pit that had opened at his feet, and Zach knew Cole was doomed. Pulling back the power he’d been sending into the shields around the dueling circle hurt, but he knew what was coming and needed to be prepared to move.

  Cole looked up from the circle, horrified. “No. What have you done?”

  He watched as something snaked out of the pit and pulled the warlock’s soul out of his body.

  Cole was dead, but the threat wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. He saw Davis Godwin rush through the suddenly open circle, pick up his son’s wand and point it at Christopher. “You killed my son!” Hideous green power poured from the tip of the wand, blasting into Christopher.

  It was a spell meant to burn the soul itself, scarring it, eating away at it until nothing was left but a husk of a man.

  Zach stepped forward and pointed his finger at Davis. “Back the fuck off, warlock.” He flicked his finger and the man flew backward, landing with a hard thud against the side of the building. He fell in a graceless heap and didn’t get back up.

  Zach bent over Christopher, the glow still surrounding him. “You okay, bro?”

  Christopher tried to stand but couldn’t. He hissed in pain, and Zach wanted to whimper. He was too late. He could see the vicious green glow in the wound, wondered how long Chris had. “No.”

  Lana pushed him over, ignoring Chris’s indrawn scream. She bent and examined his new wound. “It’s bad, Zach.”

  Zach looked down at the blackened flesh, the blisters already broken and wet. Lana bent over her mate, tears in those pretty eyes of hers.

  He could see Christopher was struggling to respond. “Hey.”

  She sniffled. “Hey yourself, wolfman.”

  “Don’t go.”

  She sobbed. “Not going anywhere. You hear me? Chris? Chris?” His brother’s golden eyes closed. His breathing was shallow and uneven. Blood was beginning to puddle beneath him. If he bled too much more it would take a miracle to save him.

  Zach knew what he had to do. He’d prepared for it, but he’d thought it would be Lana in Chris’s place.

  How wrong he had been.

  If he fucked this up he would lose both of them.

  He held out one hand to Lana. “Help me.” His other hand pressed into the wound in Chris’s side. Tears filled his eyes. “One hand in mine, one on the ground. Please, Lana. Trust me. Complete the circle.”

  Without hesitation she took out the amulet he’d prepared the day before and held it in her hand, placing it between Zach’s palm and her own. She slapped the other against the earth and opened herself up to Zach’s magic and Chris’s life force.

  Zach closed his eyes and began to chant, the words lilting and strange. He wasn’t certain what he was saying. It was almost as if someone, or something, had taken him over, giving him the power to save his brother’s soul and life.

  Zach pulled the darkness from Chris’s wound into his own body, channeled it through Lana. He took the brunt of it, trying his best to spare her as much as possible, but he couldn’t shield her from it all.

  Lord and Lady, it hurt. He’d never felt anything that hurt like this. Agony blossomed through him, growing and growing with each beat of his heart until the only thing he could see or hear was pain. And still he chanted.

  Lana began to scream.

  Still he chanted.

  The amulet began to burn, heating his flesh, branding him with his failure.

  When Lana passed out, Zach took on what she hadn’t been able to finish, purifying the horror through his own soul.

  And still, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  Chris was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Behind him, in the glow of a fire that shouldn’t have been the
re, Davis Godwin laughed.

  Zach sat up with a horrified gasp. He rubbed his face, wincing when his bandaged palm encountered the whiskers on his cheek. He’d need to buy a glove to cover the still-raw wounds. His fingers itched to trace the design burned into his flesh. His jaw clenched.

  It had been worth it.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  He blinked and shifted in his seat. The agony in his palm had him hissing in pain. “I’ll be all right.”

  He could tell the stewardess wasn’t buying it, but she let it drop. Zach stared out the window, eager to get to Cleveland and begin his new life. He reached into his pocket and fingered the twisted piece of metal there. The remains of the amulet that had helped him save his brother’s life reminded him that he was meant for things that he’d never thought possible. After growing up the weakest wizard in a family of strong talents, it was nice to find out he was actually a strong witch. He’d forever be grateful to Lana Evans for figuring out what he should already have known.

  For once he’d be somewhere where people appreciated what he could do. Zach was looking forward to it.

  “’Night, Ms. Yashodhar!”

  “Good night, Brittany.” Jo opened the door for her last class of the evening. The kids had been particularly rambunctious tonight. She’d even broken out the “magic” powder that made colored smoke, hoping to get them to settle down. Now her classroom was encased in a fog of pink, and the kids were bouncing out the door, chattering a mile a minute. She figured the full moon had something to do with it. It had been like trying to teach a bunch of little werewolves eager to get out and run in the moonlight. “Remember to read up on your herbals for next week!” She ignored the grumbles and kept her teacher face on until the last student had passed beyond sight.

  When they were finally gone she allowed herself to relax and grin. It was always the same. They came, they didn’t want to learn, and they left mini witches, ready to magic their way into the world. There was nothing Jo loved more than helping children reach for the stars. These nighttime classes were the best innovation Ro had ever come up with. Treating it almost like a YMCA class, parents took their kids in and gathered for tea and cookies in the main hall or went home. They would pick their kids up after class, eager to hear what they’d learned. Three times a week she taught, and three times a week she felt fulfilled in a way she couldn’t explain to anyone, not even her mother.

  Well, not anyone except Ro. He’d given her that goofy grin, told her his idea, and she’d been sold from the start. It just felt right, and Jo almost always went with her instincts.

  She was ready to head back into the classroom and begin her nightly clean-up routine when the front door of the Lodge opened. In walked what had to be the most incredible-looking man she had ever been privileged to see. Dark, shaggy hair begged to be pushed out of his face. Pale blue eyes darted around the room, somehow warm and icy at the same time. He moved with a predatory grace that had everything female in her standing up at attention. His dark jeans hugged an ass that had her fingers twitching to touch, to see if it was just as firm as it looked. Everything female in her wanted to run up to him and stamp Property of Jo across his forehead. Maybe his ass too, because it was a real toss-up as to which one people would want to stare at more. He was one of those men who looked good coming and going.

  Hot damn. Who the hell is that?

  She watched the man walk across the room to greet her Prince. “Prince Roland?”

  She shivered. Damn, what a voice. The deep timbre was like a caress across sensitive skin, teasing and torturous.

  “Zachary Beckett?”

  Jo blinked as the man grinned and took Ro’s outstretched hand in his own. This was the newbie Roland told her was coming?

  No way.

  No fucking way.

  Ro had warned her that a young man was going to be arriving from somewhere near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in dire need of training. Having been raised by wizards, the man’s family hadn’t known what they were dealing with until one of them married an Evans out of the Philadelphia Coven. Annabelle, the Evans matriarch, had figured out that the young man wasn’t so much a weak wizard as a strong witch and sent him to court to be trained.

  Jo had been expecting a child, perhaps a teenager, not a walking wet dream.

  Jo closed the door on the vision of hotness and leaned against it. She couldn’t let herself daydream about his hotness the way she’d love to.

  He was a student. Untouchable.

  Damn. Someone up there didn’t like her very much.

  Chapter One

  “Good evening, class.”

  Zachary Beckett winced and turned to face the woman entering the room behind him.

  Holy fuck. Not her. Not Johra Yashodhar. Please, Lady?

  Apparently the Lady was not in the mood to hear one screwed-up witch’s prayer, because Johra walked into the room in tight jeans and a sweater that hugged her every abundant curve.

  He envied that sweater something fierce.

  “Good evening, Miss Yashodhar,” the children echoed around him. Zach didn’t repeat it. He was too busy trying to roll his tongue back into his mouth. His wolf stirred under his skin, peeking curiously at the woman in front of them.

  Those dark brown eyes zeroed in on him, the lone adult in a group of children. Nothing showed in them. If she knew who he was she was doing a great job of hiding it. She smoothed a lock of nearly black hair behind her ear, revealing delicate, dangling gold earrings. “I understand we have an addition to our class.”

  Zach did his best to ignore the giggles of the ten-year-olds surrounding him. He kept his eyes on the vision of loveliness standing near the chalkboard.

  If he had to be humiliated this way at least the view was nice.

  Her lips twitched. “Why don’t you stand up and tell the class something about yourself.”

  Zach gulped and stood. He’d hated school to begin with, and now he was being forced to relive it after work three nights a week. It was the YMCA craft club from hell. What did I do to deserve this? “My name is Zachary Beckett. I’m from Pennsylvania, and I’m the son of wizards.” That did it. Emotion shone in those incredible eyes of hers for all of two seconds.

  He was pretty sure it was contempt.

  He’d gotten that a lot from the witches here ever since they’d learned who he was. Apparently Lana was right. Witches did not hold wizards in high esteem. He just hadn’t expected to have it thrown in his face so blatantly. The witches here ran the gamut from cold to downright hostile. They would close ranks against him, leaving him left out of just about everything. Hell, the Prince had found him a rental for the duration. He’d been grateful when Roland first told him about it.

  Then he’d learned exactly how far away it was from the rest of the magical community.

  Zach cleared his throat. “I’ve been at the court now for—” he did a quick mental check, “—a month. I’ve learned a lot.” Not. Nothing he’d tried so far had worked, and he was rapidly developing a reputation as a screw-up here too. Johra had to have heard of him, being one of the witches willing to teach pupils, but she gave no sign that she had. Damn it.

  A small girl with bright gold pigtails snickered behind her hand.

  Apparently she’s heard of me. He sighed. “I’m the first Beckett witch ever.” And according to his soon-to-be sister-in-law, Lana, one of the strongest witches she’d ever met. Now if only he could get that to translate into real, working spells rather than spectacular explosions of the graphite kind. The Lodge’s cleaning crew was still complaining about that. “I work for a graphic arts design firm as an artist.” He shrugged, giving the teacher his best “aw shucks” smile. “That’s pretty much it.” Other than I’m single, disease free, and I think I want to you to have my babies.

  Miss Yashodhar waved her hand. “Thank you, Zachary. Please take your seat.”

  “Zach.” He sat, squeezing behind the small desk. He felt like a complete and utter dork. Talk ab
out a nightmare.

  She nodded, but didn’t otherwise respond. She crossed her hands in front of her, every inch the stern teacher. “My name is Johra Yashodhar, and I’ll be teaching this class for the next few months. Welcome to the novice class.”

  Zach blinked. The novice class? He’d been told he’d be getting a new trainer, but no one mentioned it was the novice trainer! He could feel the heat crawling up his cheeks at the subtle insult he’d been dealt. True, he’d screwed up under the few teachers willing to take him on, but he hadn’t screwed up that badly.

  Had he?

  The little blonde girl leaned closer. “My mom says you’re the worst witch she’s ever seen.”

  Zach blinked. “Really? Who’s your mom?”

  “Sharon Quinn.”

  Zach buried his head in his hands. He’d accidentally turned Sharon’s hair green two days ago. She’d sworn she could teach him how to cast a proper illusion spell.

  “They said they couldn’t even bleach it out. It’ll have to grow on its own.”

  Zach peeked out from behind his hands. “Sorry.”

  “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Zachary?”

  Me? He sat up straight. “No, ma’am.”

  Her eyes narrowed. They darted between him and the little girl. “Good. Then let’s get to work.” She reached down and picked up a book. “Please open your books to page twenty-three of Incense, Herbs and Potions, please.”

  Zach scooted back as far as he could and looked under his desk. It was empty. “Ms. Yashodhar?”

  “Yes, Zachary?”

  “I don’t have a book.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you given the syllabus?”

  “No, ma’am.” He was lucky he hadn’t been given the boot, the way people around here treated him. They all acted like he had leprosy.