Spellbound Moon 2: Twice Shy
Copyright © June 2010 by Loribelle Hunt
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eISBN 978-1-60737-585-2
Editor: Georgia A. Woods
Cover Artist: April Martinez
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Chapter One
Jonas wasn't sure if being put in charge of their sanctuary-seeking witch was a vote of confidence in his abilities or a new form of torture cooked up by Zach, Redhawke's beta. Or maybe it was Liza. She'd handed him the assignment after all.
On further thought, as paladin, Liza was third in the pack hierarchy, but she rarely let that stand in her way. She probably thought this assignment was “good” for him.
She thought he was too solitary. That he stood too far apart. What the hell did she know?
The night was gathering. Harper, the witch slowly driving him out of his fucking mind, stood next to him in the trees watching Liza put on her magic show while she told the werewolf version of Little Red Riding Hood. Colored lights, shaped as characters, acted the tale out in the air as Liza entertained a gaggle of transfixed youngsters. It was a telling nothing like the witch version. A fact that had been hammered into his head over the last few days by the witch at his side.
“Incredible,” she whispered, not hiding the awe in her voice.
He glanced down. She stared forward, as mesmerized as the pups at Liza's show. Her face soft, lips turned up in an easy smile. It was the first time he'd seen her relaxed, and the change stunned him. She was at times meek. Others fractious.
But there was always an undercurrent of fear in her. He'd had no idea she could morph into this lovely, beguiling creature. His gaze slid down her body, taking in full breasts, full hips. An ass that made his mouth water. His lips parted in surprise. How the hell had he missed this?
“You'll catch flies,” Harper said. She was prickly. Acerbic.
Oh yeah, now he remembered. She said the right things, sounded in control, but her scent sharpened with fear. Her eyes were round with it. Her body trembled.
He liked his women with teeth and claws, able to tangle with him, and she was more unarmed than most.
“Don't worry, honey. You're not my type.”
He turned his attention back to Liza and kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. The paladin was definitely more his speed. Caleb, their alpha, walked up behind her to circle her belly with his arms. He rested his hands on the swollen mound. Twins. Liza smiled and leaned into him but didn't pause in her story. Jonas sighed. She might be more his type, but she was categorically not his.
She was coming to the end of the story. Little Red Riding Hood, promised to the woodsman, her grandmother's favorite in a village full of admirers, chose to rebel and run away with the boy she loved. Because of her sin, her own grandmother cursed her and her young man to live their lives out half human and half the wolf that had aided in their escape. It was a curse they passed to their children, a feud passed to their descendants and the descendants of the witch who had created them.
The witch version was different, of course. In it, the boy was a jealous, spurned suitor cursed to his half life for accidentally causing Red's death.
“Which do you suppose is true?” Harper mused softly.
He shrugged, but before he could frame a response, Mick approached. Just what he needed. The lover who currently wasn't speaking to him and the witch who brought out a protective streak that was not only alien but made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
“Mick,” he greeted casually when he really wanted to yank the other man to him and kiss the irritation out of him. “Have you met Harper yet?”
“At lunch yesterday.” When she'd been with Liza, not Jonas. He should have been happy with the brief separation. Instead not having her in sight had left him surly and antsy.
Mick smiled, all charm and smooth confidence, and lifted Harper's hand, then pressed a kiss on her palm. Jonas turned to hide his surge of jealousy, though he wasn't sure if it was because Mick was showing someone else so much attention or because of the scent of Harper's arousal, sweet and intoxicating, which filled his senses. Arousal that was for Mick, not him.
Mick gave him a knowing look and a wink when Jonas turned back to face them. He struggled to bury his feelings, the jealousy and confusion, and knew he was successful by the disappointed look that came over Mick's face. He covered it quickly enough, turning back to charm Harper.
Jonas followed them to the buffet, then to an unoccupied table, and stayed silent as Mick slowly drew her out. There was something, an air about her that called to him. Sweet. Fragile. Breakable. She was not the kind of woman he was normally drawn to, but he couldn't deny that he was.
He just listened as they spoke, his wolf scratching against his skin to escape.
His wolf side was nothing but pure instinct, and its instinct was to protect. This woman. He was a dominant male, Liza's number one lieutenant, but the urge went far beyond the protective streak he normally felt for members of the pack. There could only be one reason for that. She was his mate. He sucked in a deep, shocked breath.
She wasn't what he expected, wasn't what he wanted. He needed a warrior, not a frail witch who couldn't fight him, who couldn't meet him on equal terms. He didn't want a mate he had to hold back with.
Harper, pretty and alluring as she was, was not for him.
Chapter Two
Harper shouldn't have followed him.
She knew it. It was several days after the celebration where Jonas had first looked at her with heat in his eyes instead of only contempt and Liza had warned her to stay inside tonight, on the full moon, but it was also her brother's birthday.
She hadn't dared contact him to let him know she'd arrived in Redhawke, that for the moment at least she was safe. But even if she couldn't risk the communication, couldn't risk her father discovering her whereabouts, she wanted to do a blessing ceremony for him. She'd discovered a tiny glade on a previous walk, the ideal serene place for her protection prayer, and had returned to it late in the afternoon. She'd finished before the sun began to set.
On her return she passed Jonas's house. He was on his back deck, slowly removing his clothes, folding them methodically to place on a table. She couldn't move, stayed hidden and frozen as each magnificent, hard inch of his body was revealed. If he hadn't made his disdain so damned clear at the celebration a few days ago, and so many times since, she might have sashayed forward and propositioned him.