That Old Black Magic, Book 2
As head mistress of Beaumont coven house, Clarissa Miles has perfected two things: keeping her sister witches from accidently turning innocent bystanders into toads, and resisting the sexy overtures of her familiar, werewolf Logan Scott.
But her resolve is vanishing—fast. Seven years ago she sold her soul to save her father, and that contract is coming due. The allure of spending her last days indulging in some dirty, naked loving is too tempting to resist.
Logan has patiently ridden out the past seven years, content to do Clarissa’s bidding and ignoring his consuming need to mark her as his. Now that the ban on witch/familiar fraternizing has been lifted, he’s off the leash and ready to launch a full-on sensual assault on her defenses. They’re destined mates, and he’ll do whatever it takes to convince her.
It’s delightfully easy to get her in bed. Get at her heart? Not so much. Especially when a deadly predator stakes its claim on her…and Logan faces a battle not only to win her heart, but save her soul.
“Ms. Peach shouldn’t have said that. About you not having a heart. It isn’t true.”
“How do you know?” She snorted. “Maybe I’m the world’s first living heart donor.” Her self-mockery managed to spackle the hairline crack that’d started to weaken her defenses.
“Shug, it’s okay to be upset.”
A tiny, frustrated sigh fizzled from Logan. “I still think you need to blow off some steam. Let me take you on that bike ride.”
And be surrounded by him and that vibrator on wheels? Can anyone say torture? “I already told you I can’t.”
“Why? You’ve taken care of the problem with Peach.”
“Yes, but there are a ton of other things I need to take care of.” Not the least of which was figuring out how to handle her upcoming meeting with Seven.
Faster than she could blink, Logan stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “You’re afraid to be alone with me. Admit it.”
She gave a laugh that sounded forced, even to her ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been alone many times.”
“Not so often lately.” His eyes sparkled with challenge. “Not since I kissed you in your office.”
Her face uncomfortably hot, she swallowed. Hard. Damn him, he would have to dredge up memories of the kiss that’d shaken her more than a 6.0 earthquake. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, the soft glide of his knuckles along her skin making her shiver. The gold specks in his irises seemed to glow with an inner heat. “Or maybe you’re scared s**tless about the way I make you feel.”
“Honestly, your ego is out of control.”
“Then prove it. Come ride with me.” He twined the wayward, springy lock of her hair that refused to stay in place around his forefinger. “I promise I’ll behave.”
“Please, we both know that’s physically impossible for you.”
A noise that sounded suspiciously like the cluck of a chicken broke from him, making her teeth grind. “Thank you for proving my point.”
His cackle grew louder, and she waggled a finger in warning. “I’m perfectly capable of shutting you up. Permanently, if I so choose. Might want to remember that.”
He grinned. “Ah, shug, you know you’d miss the sound of my sexy voice.”