SPELLBOUND MOON 3:
THIRD TIME LUCKY
Loribelle Hunt
www.loose-id.com
Spellbound Moon 3: Third Time Lucky
Copyright © October 2011 by Loribelle Hunt
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eISBN 978-1-61118-575-1
Editor: Jana J. Hanson
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Printed in the United States of America
Published by
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
“All right, all right, I’m coming,” Harris yelled while he wrapped the towel around his hips.
He stalked down the center hall but didn’t reach the door before the bell rang a fourth time.
It couldn’t be Ethan. It was too early for their date. Besides, he’d just come in or use his key if the door was locked, which it rarely was.
Harris damned near ripped the door off its hinges when he yanked it open. The sight that greeted him stopped his next angry words cold. He opened the door wide and stepped back to let her enter.
Gabby.
Werewolf soldier and major pain in his ass, but man could the woman work a short red dress. Clingy fabric wrapped around her killer curves, high, full breasts, and a mouthwatering ass. Auburn hair hung loose to her shoulders, framing a face more striking than beautiful. But it was her eyes that did him in every time. Rich brown and expressive.
He hadn’t seen her for three months, and there could only be one reason for her showing up now. She looked him over with a smoldering gaze that confirmed his suspicions.
“In heat again, darlin’?”
Smoldering gave way to bright, sharp anger. “Are you complaining? That’s a first.” She moved to the living room entryway, leaned one shoulder against the wall, and wrapped her arms around her middle. The movement pushed her breasts up so they almost spilled from the top of the low bodice. It was a calculated move, playing dirty, and they both knew it. His own anger started to simmer.
He wasn’t sure who was the cat or who was the mouse, but he was fucking sick of this game. They should be enemies. Wizards and werewolves weren’t allies, friends, or fuck buddies.
Then again, nothing was as it should be, right down to his presence in Redemption, Florida. He’d been banished as a teenager and had made his way here to neutral territory.
Neutral or not, it bordered werewolf land, and a good half of its residents were members of the neighboring Redhawke pack. He hadn’t exactly been welcomed with open arms, but he’d carved out a place for himself. Despite the odds, despite centuries of animosity between his race and theirs, Harris counted werewolves among his friends and lovers. He’d made a name for himself as an honest and ethical and dependable man.
But that acceptance only went so far—and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
Gabby would never mate with him. She wouldn’t let him get that close, but she trusted him when she was in heat in a way she’d never trust a wolf. Mating was an instinct a wolf would find hard to resist with a female in heat, but she didn’t believe Harris could create a mate bond with her since he was a different species. Because he’d been content with their arrangement, he hadn’t corrected her. The first time she’d come to him, two years ago, he’d resolved to just enjoy what part of her she was willing to share. He didn’t push. He didn’t make demands. He didn’t come close to taking her the way he wanted to. Why? Because wolves did not mate with wizards.
But then things started to change. First Redhawke’s paladin—their third in command—Liza, the only person on the planet Harris knew of who was half wolf and half witch, had mated with her alpha and beta. It was a year ago now, and even though Liza had always been a part of Redhawke, was seen as more wolf than witch by her pack members, it had made Harris start to think. If that mating could be accepted, why not others? When he’d casually mentioned that to Gabby, she’d stayed away five months. On her return, he’d smelled what remained of a potion he knew werewolf females sometimes used to delay heat. He didn’t bring it up again, but it made him angry and resentful, and he felt ridiculous about it. Who complained about casual, nostrings-attached sex with a hot woman?
“Earth to Harris?”
He realized he was staring at the wall over her head while memories washed through him, and he shifted his gaze to study her face while he went on thinking. Liza had been the first, and her circumstances were special. But then came Harper, a witch looking for sanctuary. It hadn’t taken long before one of Redhawke’s soldiers and its healer had made her theirs. Why couldn’t two witches mated into Redhawke become two witches and a wizard? Harris had stopped thinking about it weeks ago. He knew what he wanted.
“Harris?”
A look crossed her face—something between unease and fear—that made his heart accelerate with anticipation. Let the games begin.
“This isn’t working for me anymore.”
At his words, her expression turned to one of annoyance. “Fine,” she said, straightening.
“I’ll leave.”
“I didn’t say you could leave, darlin’.”
He was as good at spells and potions as the next wizard, but that wasn’t what set him apart.
He used his mind to slam the still-open front door shut and turn the locks. The surprised look on her face was so comical he almost laughed. He did grin, and she gave him a dirty look.
“I had no idea you could do that.”
“Oh, I can do all kinds of things.” Read as much innuendo into that as you like, darlin’.
Small white teeth bit down on her bottom lip. He just managed not to groan, remembering what they felt like on his skin.
“How?”
“Telekinesis.” He took a step forward, and she matched it with one in retreat. “It’s a rare talent, and mine is stronger than most.” Probably the strongest in the world, but she didn’t need to know that yet.
“Can you read minds?” she asked curiously.
“No.”
“And what can you do other than shut and lock doors?” Ah, his curious little wolf. He had her. With a slow shake of his head and fighting a smile, he said, “Let me show you.”
But she didn’t take the hand he held out. “I thought you said this wasn’t working for you anymore.”
She frowned, but her eyes were feverish, and her gaze kept returning to the erection his towel did nothing to hide. The heat was taking over. He used a finger under her chin to lift her face so he could see into those cloudy eyes. Deep and whiskey-colored, they only spoke of lust and need.