When Samantha’s sister goes missing, all signs point to supernatural foul play. Her fellow Air witches won’t help, leaving her with one miserable choice—to beg for assistance from Dion Hebert, the odious weretiger Alpha she shot down months ago. In front of his pack. What’s a witch to do?
Dion can’t believe Samantha has the nerve to come begging after she humiliated him in front of half the supernatural Underground. He agrees to help in exchange for the one thing he’s always wanted—Samantha Avira. Naked. Wrapped around him in every delectable position he can imagine. But since the witch humiliated him publically, Dion wants the sex to be public too.
The thought of getting naked with Dion turns Samantha on, as much as she tries to deny it. The thought of getting naked with him in front of everyone leaves her part aroused and part horrified. When Dion makes good on his end of the bargain, Samantha’s deepest, darkest desires are unleashed. And the result is pure, sexy magic that can’t be tamed.
All books in the Hexed Nights series are stand-alone!
Dion Hebert had thought he was in a good mood before. But the appearance of a certain Air witch caterer in his restaurant made finding his missing lucky T-shirt seem like small potatoes. His nostrils flared to draw in the notes of her breezy floral scent across the dining room. Dion smirked because she’d come here even though she knew exactly who owned the place.
He’d not forgotten a single detail about their last meeting. It hadn’t been quite nine months since she laughed in his face when he asked her to dinner to discuss a potential job opportunity. Worse, she’d done it in front of his Beta and Gamma with half the pack listening in and a quarter of the Underground watching in amusement.
I would never be caught dead with an odious man like you, had been her parting shot.
He was eager to find out what had changed. But not eager enough to seek her out.
She could come to him with her tail between her legs.
That’s not the only thing he wanted to put there.
Quietly, he laughed at himself. What was it about the Air witch that had stuck in his paw all these months?
She was attractive, of course. Most witches were. But he’d seen women with prettier faces than her diamond-shaped visage.
If he really stared at her, as he was doing now, he could note a dozen flaws. Like the slightly smashed quality to her nose. And that dark birthmark visible an inch and a half below her left eye. Or how she barely had a top lip.
Perhaps it was simply her refusal that kept her in his memory. Few had the guts to refuse him. True, he’d planned to install her as head chef at his restaurant so he could fuck her whenever he wanted. But she hadn’t known that when she spread those narrow tulip-pink lips and rejected him.
Dion couldn’t forget Samantha was the witch-with-the-tits. Sure, all female witches had tits…but they didn’t all have her tits. Hers were perfect. Not too large. Not too small. Just the right combination of point and curve to fit perfectly in his mouth.
From his vantage point at the back of the restaurant, he could see how her tits pushed at the silk of her blouse. She’d been daring. She hadn’t worn a bra into the tiger’s den.
Dion tossed his arms along the round booth’s back to give a nonchalant appearance. The pose made him feel in control even if he couldn’t do anything about the unfortunate lengthening of his dick.
She asked the girl at the hostess station to speak with him. Her voice alone thickened him—that soft, airy sound he wanted to hear gasping in his ear.
Had her catering business gone south? Dion would happily give her a job. But not as head chef. She’d lost that opportunity when she brazenly insulted him. Oh, the innumerable tasks he could give her.
The witch’s chest lifted with an irritated puff when the hostess fetched Dion’s Gamma rather than him. His smirk deepened when her gaze darted to him several times. Twice, she flipped her hair—a mane the color of warm pecan pie. Twice, Dion imagined her doing that nude atop him. He shifted his pose with a quiet grunt to make room for the rest of his erection.
“There’s a girl here lookin’ for you,” Kevin, his Gamma, informed him once the hostess had done her duty. “Says her name is Sam Avira.”
Considering Samantha a girl would be a crime. The witch-with-the-tits was all woman. But he didn’t say as much. Her kind could magically draw out the sound of just about anything. No doubt she’d eavesdropped on him as much as he’d done to her.
Still, he asked, “Did she say what she wanted?”
Kevin shook his shaggy head. “She won’t say.”
Dion inhaled a small laugh. He assumed whatever she wanted was for his ears only. And he liked the prospect of that. But he wasn’t going to give her privacy to ask it of him.
“Send her over,” he replied. “And send one of the waitresses to me. Tina, I think.”
Tina had tits the size of honeydew melons and a waist so narrow he could span it with his hands. Every female who visited his restaurant hated her.
She’d been trying to get Dion into bed for months. He’d hired her for his Beta Jake as incentive to leave his bitch of a girlfriend. So until Jake refused Tina, Dion wasn’t going near her. But he would take advantage of her flirtation to prove to the witch he was a desirable man.
Kevin gestured for Samantha to enter the dining room. The attractive female pretended she hadn’t seen Dion until then. Between the tables, she sailed on dangerously tall gold platform pumps.
Dion imagined stripping her of her fitted jeans but leaving the pumps as he took her from behind while playing with her erect little nipples. Those tits and those shoes would feature in a few of his fantasies over the next few days.
The witch reached his table. A blank expression fixed on her pretty face as she politely greeted him. “Mr. Hebert.”
Dion liked that she hadn’t smiled at him. To call him an odious man one day and then smile as if he were her favorite person the next would be hypocritical of her.
“Can I have a word with you?” She shifted her tiger-print purse in her palm.
Dion was certain she had no idea what pattern was on her purse or she wouldn’t have been foolish enough to bring it in here. Nonetheless, he gestured to the vinyl bench seat beside him.
Her knuckles went white around the leather purse strap. “In private, if possible,” she added.
He took great pleasure in retorting, “The only thing I do in private is fuck.” The rapid widening of her moss-green eyes improved his day. Dion couldn’t resist pushing her further. “Still want privacy?”
Silently he willed her to agree, but of course, she failed.
“No,” she grunted as she dropped onto the very edge of his seat. She pulled her purse into her lap like a life preserver as she glanced around.
If she’d been anyone else, Dion would have assured her it was safe to talk in his restaurant. Everyone was loyal to him. Nothing spoken within these walls made it outside without his say-so.
She wasn’t anyone else. She was the witch-with-the-tits who had rejected and insulted him.
Tina appeared then—bright, bubbly and with a shirt that barely covered her melon rack. She knelt across from Samantha to take their order. Dion took the opportunity to catalogue their differences.
Tina had a beautiful face and a narrow body with those massive breasts that defied gravity. And yet she lacked an indefinable quality the witch had. Trying to grasp what it was about Samantha that drew him was like trying to hold the wind. But it was undeniable.
“Vodka on the rocks,” Dion informed Tina and then gestured at his guest. “And for you? It’s on the house.”
Samantha shook her head in a jerking motion.
Dion said nothing when Tina ran her hand up his arm. He chose to watch Samantha’s reaction rather than pay his waitress any mind. There was no discernable change to her expression beyond an impatient swaying toward the door.
Her attention remained on the departing waitress until Tina was out of earshot. And then without looking him in the eye, she declared, “I need to find a spellweaver named Dan.”
Samantha’s request almost shocked him into silence. But instead, the opposite happened. He found himself blurting out, “Why do you need a spellweaver? Are you low on cash?”
“No.” Samantha pierced him with an angry glare. “I don’t need a spellweaver. I need to find a spellweaver named Dan.”
“Do you know any spellweavers named Dan?”
He didn’t. But he did reply, “I know every spellweaver in the city.” Because it was the truth. There simply weren’t any named Dan.
“Where can I find Dan?”
Dion didn’t want to tell her there were none by that name. She’d get up and leave if he did. There was no way he’d let her go without discovering what had prompted her to ask an odious man to find an odious spellweaver.
Again, he asked, “Why?”
The witch drew in a long sigh that lifted her chest inches higher. Dion struggled not to stare at it.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. The extra proximity made it easy to smell the salt of her perspiration, and the new angle gave him the perfect view down her shirt to the swell of those beautiful mounds.
“My sister is missing,” she whispered while wringing her hands on the table’s edge. “Her phone was at home with an unfinished text message that read ‘Spellweaver in the city’. Kari doesn’t go anywhere without her phone. And the living room was trashed like she’d had a fight with someone. Plus I found a guy’s ring on the floor.”
Dion’s plans to humiliate this woman for her rejection immediately fizzled. The pleading in her bright eyes and the way her lips quivered had nothing to do with being nervous with him. They were because of this missing sister.
His jaw set in determination.