Witch Interrupted Read online

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Two hard thrusts. She was going to come. Another. Katie gulped. Gasped. Held onto him. As her climax spiraled closer, she grew wetter. Her nails bit into him. “Because I do.”

  Goddess, she needed this man. “Don’t stop.”

  He obliged her, thrust after thrust. Three. Two. One.

  She burst like the clouds and rained down on him. He groaned. Could he tell? Could he tell she was coming so hard she could see stars against the utter blackness of the room? His cock rammed inside her, hard and high, exactly where she wanted him. Where she always wanted him.

  His breath harsh, he drove her through her climax. He didn’t rest. Her juices spread all over them. Now his beast emerged. He fucked her until she was over the crest and rising again.

  “Katie.” All he said was her name.

  “Yes. Do it.” He thrust deeper, somehow, or grew larger, his cock swollen with desire. She dragged him close. Her heels dug into his ass. She found his face in the darkness and kissed him instead of telling him how she felt.

  One of his hands dropped down. He had her so tight against the door, she didn’t fall. He withdrew almost all the way from her pussy and smacked her ass with the flat of his hand.

  Katie moaned. She wouldn’t hide from it and didn’t question it. She loved the pain he gave her. She loved Marcus being so crazy for her that he let himself go. He let his wolf do what it would to them both. And his wolf would have her submission.

  He spanked her. Thrust in and out, catching her clit on the stroke. Spanked her again. It wasn’t like the first spanking; his angle was shit. But it was hot. Goddess, she wanted it harder, wanted it all harder. She wanted him to whip the truth out of her and make her admit it.

  He thrust his tongue into her mouth and his cock into her pussy. The next time he paddled her, it was particularly keen, like a tightrope of rapture. She whimpered into his mouth.

  Her cry shivered through him as if he could feel the same thing. She realized her cheeks were wet with tears. Marcus cupped her ass again with both hands, his fingers slick with her juices. “Tell me you love me.”

  She opened her mouth to obey, and he thrust into her cruelly, thumping her against the door. She lost her ability to speak. His cock deep, her legs wide, he found her anus with his fingers.

  “Tell me, Katie.”

  Again she tried to obey. This time he pushed fingertips into her, past the tight muscle. The intensity of that sensation arrested her words in her throat.

  He had two fingers in her. Not deep, but her heart raced like a hummingbird. He began rocking her with his hips and his fingers. In and out. Both entrances pleasured. His cock deep, his fingers shallow.

  His lips moved against hers, barely making sound. “I love you. Believe me. I love you.”

  A tear slipped past her jaw. She gave him what he demanded. “I love you too.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I couldn’t bear it if they hurt you because of me.”

  “It will hurt worse if you go.”

  She rested her forehead against his. Her body trembled with passion and a spinning rush of relief now that she’d said it. She’d said the words. She’d never been more vulnerable to anyone in her entire life.

  “Make love to me,” she said. “I want you to come inside me.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. She could feel him release the last of his restraint. He rolled into her, slow and deep, then faster. Wilder. His cadence ensnared her and she started begging. Please, Marcus. Please. Harder. Fuck me.

  His fingers slid deep into her anus.

  She gasped. He whispered things to her. The nonstop strokes of his cock, the way he was filling her. His fingers, she couldn’t believe his fingers. The strange wonder of it pushed her over the edge into a ferocious orgasm.

  Marcus drove relentlessly until he clenched and came. He spurted inside her, cock throbbing. He quivered like a spear that had struck the ground. They held each other for several minutes until they caught their breath.

  He loved her. She loved him. As impossible as it seemed.

  It was going to be so much harder to leave him now.

  * * *

  Marcus shrugged out of his shirt as Katie watched. His hands were steadier than hers, and he was the one about to experience hours of excruciating pain.

  June cinched protections around the hotel room, which she claimed would block Vern’s tracking spell. Katie, a full snoot of power after the best night of sleep she’d had since before Marcus, could sense the brick-solid magic settle around them. An expensive spell with rare components, it wouldn’t do for everyday use. It deadened input from the outside by half. But they’d all decided—after June obsessed about impurities—that these protections had a high percentage of success.

  Well, the three witches had decided. Harry’s vote had been to drive straight for the Mexican border and disappear.

  They hadn’t heard from anyone since last night. June obtained another burner phone and dialed several numbers, including Millington, but nobody knew anything.

  Annette didn’t answer at the last number she’d used. They downloaded a contact list for region elders but hadn’t escalated to it yet. How could they prove anything was amiss in Millington if the keepers cleaned up after themselves like in Alabama?

  Because of who they were, they’d never sway the region elders without substantial backing. Marcus and Katie were renegades, and June and Harry weren’t universally acclaimed themselves. Frank’s existence might be approved instead of an illicit infiltration. Soon, they’d call the region elders regardless. They had to act one way or another.

  Katie recalled, with a pang, her father’s claim that he’d hacked the region elder forums. That would be really useful right about now.

  So would a fast forward button. For the next several hours, she had agreed to cause her lover the worst pain in his life. If Lars had Vern’s tracking spell and began his search in Kentucky, the brand had to be inked as soon as possible, no matter how strong June’s ward was. They’d run out of time. They’d run out of options.

  They’d almost run out of cayenne and heal-all. It was going to deplete their stores to set Marcus’s brand.

  “I’d rather be doing this in my laboratory.” Marcus inspected the flawless expanse of his back in the mirror. He hadn’t wanted Katie to draw designs on him before the tattoo, as she usually did, since it would take extra time.

  “The power’s out and it’s isolated,” she said. Not to mention large, spooky and decrepit. “This is the better choice.”

  The electricity in the factory had been whacked by the lightning storm. They’d transported the essentials here, a busy hotel, rather than the Airstream in a nearby RV park. Not that it was optimal to place humans in the crossfire, but the throng of people would serve as camouflage and deterrent.

  They hoped.

  Nobody had mentioned June’s pregnancy—but nobody had mentioned the love bites on Katie’s neck, either. Or the fact she was still here.

  Harry prowled the room nonstop. Though he was in two-leg form, Katie could practically see the prick of his ears and his hackles.

  “How long is this going to take?” he asked again. Did he think Marcus’s estimate would have changed in the past hour? “I want to be on the road before dark.”

  Once Katie set the brand, Harry and June were headed out of the country until this blew over. June wanted to stay and help, but the others had outvoted her.

  All of them were getting outvoted on something.

  Katie had been outvoted on this fucking permabrand.

  She didn’t want to cause Marcus this pain. He theorized the massive power would flood both lattices and raise him to dual state. Theories and extrapolation. It wasn’t enough to go on.

  She wasn’t a scientist. She had no idea how a wolf could become a witch or why most witches became wolves after having sex with one. She was just a former keeper, a soldier
, as torn between her lover and her family as Harry was between his wife and his coven.

  How could you save everyone who deserved it when there was only one of you?

  Marcus read from his smart phone in response to Harry’s question—again. “Eight hours and sixteen minutes. If you want to leave today, we should begin.”

  He climbed onto the bed and the white coverlet like a sacrifice. “Don’t stop as frequently to sterilize and apply pain relief. The heal-all and my constitution will prevent bacterial infection.”

  “I’d rather you be anesthetized and unconscious for this,” Katie said. The tattoo machine gleamed on the bedside table like a weapon. The two types of ink had been simmered and strained. The people not getting tattoos wore protective clothing. Everything was ready—except for her nerves.

  “We don’t have time to determine an inert anesthetic,” he said with a slight smile. “As for unconscious, I suspect I will be.”

  “Shit.” Katie’s stomach lurched. One tiny, inch-wide brand had been so unpleasant he’d hazed out. How could she do this to him?

  “I was thinking a striped pattern on my front and back.” Marcus settled himself on the bed. His jeans—had she ever seen him in jeans?—rode low on his hips. Harry, face grim, strapped him down with cloth bindings that should restrain Marcus as long as his wolf didn’t gain ascendancy.

  June restacked the sterile gauze for the fourth time. She wore a set of long-sleeved coveralls, as did Katie and Harry. They expected today to be messier than yesterday, and Marcus’s blood would be tainted by high-powered cayenne. “What about the heart monitor?”

  “I don’t want you intimidated by my readings,” he said. “If I seem…anemic, I have faith in you to revive me. You’re very powerful witches.”

  “Revive.” Katie slumped onto the opposite bed. How could he be so nonchalant? So detached from the fact that this could kill him? And he knew it. He’d just admitted it. Revive.

  “Front first.” Marcus, on his back, tested his bonds. He caught her eye. “I’ll be fine.”

  She clenched her hands. Her whole body shivered like leaves in last night’s storm. It was a good thing he didn’t want an attractive tattoo design, because she was going to have the manual dexterity of a drunk.

  He smiled at her. It was eerie, knowing she brought happiness to someone, instead of just death. “I trust you completely, Katie. Check my pocket if you don’t believe me. There’s no capsule.”

  “All I’m saying is…” Her breath caught in a sob. She wasn’t sure if it was dread or love or happiness or a muddle of all three. “This had better be worth it.”

  Her words lacked romance, but she didn’t know how to be sweet.

  He chuckled. He actually laughed. The man was insane. “You’re telling me.”

  Harry and June were watching, but Katie leaned down and kissed him anyway. “See you on the other side.”

  Marcus closed his eyes and gripped the stress balls she’d given him, one in each hand. Humans liked them for large tattoos, and she’d had them in the kit they’d recovered from the tattoo shop. “If you require additional square inches, let’s skip the genital area, shall we?”

  * * *

  By the time they finished his back, Katie was weeping openly. She could barely see Marcus’s bloody, enflamed skin, the tattoo gun needling in and out of him, leaving red agony in its wake. The designs she’d fashioned were covered by blood and blisters. June had taken a turn since all that was needed during the inking was a willingness to point and shoot the tattoo machine, but she’d ended up going to the bathroom to vomit.

  Even Harry was pale when Katie unplugged the machine and laid it, hands shaking, on the table.

  Marcus’s blood splattered the white sheets. Her coveralls. Her gloves. It was done. Now that she’d fused it into a permabrand, he’d have to live with pain for—she didn’t even know. Ten years? Twenty? Forever?

  These weren’t scars he’d be able to shift away. Doing this to him would haunt her forever too.

  Her whole head pounded like the world’s worst sinus infection from the magical draining. Sweat beaded Marcus’s forehead. Pain etched his unconscious face like the cayenne etched his torso. The only complaint he’d uttered was when they’d turned him over midway through the procedure.

  He’d muttered curses when his tortured front side hit the sheets but had lapsed quickly into semi-consciousness.

  At least she could temporarily relieve the burn. Or try. Her hands shook so much when she tried to uncap the last spray bottle of heal-all that she couldn’t get it open.

  A big hand touched her shoulder. “I got this part.”

  Harry rotated her away from the devastation she’d wrought. Surprising Katie even more, June caught her in a hug. “He chose this. You told him what it would be like, and he still chose it.”

  “I love him,” Katie said brokenly. Her vision filmed with tears and fatigue. “How could I do this to him?”

  Behind her, the spray can emitted a continuous hiss. The heal-all in the brand would offset the damage from the cayenne—they assumed—but the burns and blisters from the application process needed a booster.

  “What if it works?” June asked. “What if he can be a witch and a wolf at the same time? This has the potential to be huge. Bigger than me and Harry.”

  “It also has the potential to be nothing.” Katie’s headache crept down her neck to her shoulders and arms. This might be the worst draining she’d ever experienced, and the procedure couldn’t be easily replicated. If her combat bonus weren’t active, she’d be unconscious. She’d had to take magic from June and Harry to set Marcus’s giant permabrand. The largest brand she’d done prior to today had been a quarter the size.

  She didn’t even know if she’d gotten the lines straight. She couldn’t see her handiwork through the blood and blisters.

  Fresh tears trickled free. She’d mutilated the man she loved.

  June patted her back. “He’s already managed something nobody else has ever accomplished. Progress isn’t painless.”

  Katie kind of laughed.

  “He had to try. I think…I think he’d do anything for you.”

  “This isn’t about me.” Katie extricated herself from June’s comforting arms and found tissues. She kept her back, carefully, to the bed where Harry fizzed through the last of the primed heal-all.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He knew if he couldn’t make something happen that you were going to leave him to rescue your family. We all knew.”

  Katie’s eyes were swollen, her nose sealed shut. She’d developed a talent for emotional subterfuge with the council—and a short time with Marcus had destroyed it. “I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to figure me out.”

  “You have so much loyalty and devotion inside you,” June said. “You aren’t what I expected. You wouldn’t have killed Frank, would you?”

  “If it was between him and one of us? Yes.”

  “There was a man in my past I would have killed too, but someone else did first. You wouldn’t kill if you had other options. I get that now.”

  “Just don’t assume the other keepers are like me.” Joining the council shattered nearly everyone who’d experienced it. It would have shattered Katie, but Vern’s arrival had pulled her from the brink, and Dad and Tonya had mended her the rest of the way. That was why, no matter how much she wanted to be with Marcus, she had to help them.

  If the permabrand didn’t work, she’d leave him and do what she had to do. Trade herself. Lars couldn’t possibly hurt her worse than knowing she’d let her family die or gotten Marcus killed.

  June and Harry’s luggage waited by the door. They would head for Mexico as soon as they confirmed Marcus was as healed as he was going to get. The keepers weren’t their battle, and they weren’t equipped to fight it. Marcus had his science and Katie had—herself.

  June added her giant pocketbook to the pile and inspected the screen of her phone. Her brows pinched together—she must not have
gotten any calls. She looked up at Katie. “I’m supposed to add a layer to the cayenne before I leave.”

  “Don’t.” Her tears dry, Katie began preparations for the battle ahead. She’d give Marcus one more night before they parted ways—for his safety. “He needs to heal. I’ll layer him tomorrow.”

  “The protections will last on this room until morning. Get some rest.” June was out of the ingredients needed to reset the particular ward she’d put on the hotel room. She’d left Katie the recipe and others, including one for apple pie.

  As if Katie knew how to bake. Tonya was the baker in her family.

  “Can’t sleep yet. He’ll want to run tests.” She risked a glance at the bed. Harry had cleaned the blood off Marcus with the last of the cotton and gauze. The small bedside trash bin overflowed. She’d need to burn it before leaving, else the maid might raise an alarm.

  Marcus’s flesh, still angry, was crisscrossed by jagged black-and-red lines. As clinically as possible, she inspected her handiwork. From a center of rings, the cayenne and heal-all zigzagged like starbursts or a witch lattice, which was what she’d been going for. On the front, she’d tattooed his wolf lattice. Two designs to represent the two halves Marcus claimed were inside them all.

  It would never win an artistry award, but the tattoo had a certain stark beauty. Or perhaps it was Marcus who was beautiful and the brands were part of him now.

  He shifted restlessly on the bed.

  Goddess, she hoped this had worked the way Marcus intended. It would mean he’d done it. He’d be so happy. Not to mention, sharing these results with the elders in exchange for help with the keepers would be imminently preferable to her demise at the hands of Hiram Lars.

  For the first time in days, Katie allowed herself a sliver of hope. Marcus had survived the procedure, which had been the first hurdle. Now they just needed to wake him.

  June peeled off her gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Do you need help getting him to the car?”

  “Just cast eyebright on him, if you don’t mind.” Katie wasn’t up to simple spells. She’d squeezed her brain into a pulp to extract every last dribble of power. “He’ll want to see you off.”