Sassy Ever After Page 4

  “I do. But please don’t tell me you’re going to go hunt and kill—”

  He waved his hand. “I buy my food at the grocery store like everyone else.” Not that he didn’t dabble in the occasional hunt, but generally didn’t make a habit of doing it to bring home a meal for a woman he was trying to impress.

  Fuck. He didn’t need to impress Amanda because there was nothing there. Just all smoke and mirror witchcraft.

  Right. Because he didn’t have an instant reaction to her the second he laid eyes on her in Paul’s office.

  “Can I do something to help with dinner while you’re gone?”

  “Sure. You can make a salad. I’ve got everything you need in the fridge.”

  “Easy enough.”

  He nodded before strolling toward the side of the house, so he could shift. He didn’t feel the need to run any longer, but he did need some space between him and the witch. He didn’t bother to contain the deep, menacing growls as he shifted from one form to the other. It wasn’t painful, but the call to the wild was difficult to control, and howling was part of the process. Normally, around a woman who wasn’t a wolf, he’d do his best not to frighten them with the change, but for some reason, he wanted to exert his power as a wolf around Lady Amanda.

  He shook his body, ruffling out his fur as he slinked around the corner. As a man, he was taller than average, and as a wolf, he was larger than most. He turned his head, making eye contact with Amanda, who seemed to be unfazed by the fact that the top of his wolf head came to just under her breasts.

  She inched forward, her arm stretched out as if she wanted to pet him.

  He lowered his head, scratching his paw into the ground, puffing out air through his nostrils. It wasn’t an overly aggressive move on his part, but it should have frightened her at least a little. However, she kept moving forward until she stood in front of him, fingers digging into his head, rustling his black and white fur. A tickle, much like a cat purring, vibrated in his throat.

  He shook his head and took off running. If he were a smart werewolf, he’d call her a car service and send her back to Beverly Hills for the evening. Getting to know her was a bad idea and would only get in the way of his performance. The less he knew about her personally, the better off he’d be.

  Just as he came to the top of the hill that overlooked his cabin, a dark feeling eased into his bones. The hair on his back stood straight up. The earth shook below his paws. He growled low and long, baring his sharp teeth, turning in a circle, unsure of where the threat came from until three wolves showed themselves to his right.

  All three were mediocre in size, but their eyes were nothing short of unusual with their gold tint and sparks that danced like bullets exploding from the chamber of a gun. Their thick coats shined under the moon like nothing he’d ever seen before.

  Who are you and what do you want? he spoke to the other wolves with his mind.

  They chose to only respond with a howl, digging their front paws into the ground, ready to attack.

  Back off. This is my land.

  But the wolves didn’t take heed. They lowered their heads, foaming at the mouth, flanking to his left and right, inching closer.

  His heart tightened as if someone had reached in and curled their fingers around it, squeezing the life out of him. He blinked, trying to regain focus as his vision blurred, making him dizzy. His legs tingled with weakness. Just as he thought he was about to pass out, a surge of strength flowed through his blood.

  One of the wolves whined as he paused. The other two took a step back, yelping.

  The sky swirled above him as a figure hovered over him.

  “Reverse the magic that made you strong and return to the thing of your song,” Amanda’s voice echoed in the night.

  The three wolves howled and whined in pain as their bodies convulsed, dropping to the ground, transforming into sparrows before flapping their wings and flying away in defeat.

  Amanda’s feet hit the ground with a soft thud. “That’s definitely black magic.”

  No shit. He grunted and then took off running down the hill. He knew he couldn’t outrun a flying witch, but he didn’t care. As soon as he got back to the cabin, he would call her a car and then call his agent and drop from the film.

  He tried to tell himself that there’d be other leading roles, but deep down he knew, this was his last shot at getting back on top. His career washed up at thirty-two.

  Chapter 5

  Amanda hoovered over the cabin, using her magic to see through the roof. She felt a pang of guilt, but she wasn’t ready to face Jackson. Not yet. She sensed his anger on the hilltop, and it wasn’t over the pending threat of fake wolves sent by some witch, or group of witches, that had it in for him.

  He pounded the steaks he’d pulled from the fridge before rubbing seasoning on the meat. His aura filled with angry red and orange swirls, but it was the pale-blue, light-green, and a lighter red shifting just inside the rainbow that caught her attention.

  This combination usually indicated a fierce protective and caring mindset. The spell could be increasing his need to guard his homestead, but the way his aura danced, he was trying to shield something he felt a deep affection for, and it wasn’t a thing.

  It was a person.

  Maybe his mother. Or siblings. They might not be present physically, but the news of his new co-star, and what it brought up, had to affect them.

  He lifted the cutting board off the counter and headed toward the back patio.

  Time to face the music.

  She lowered herself a few feet before he glanced up.

  “Wondered if you were coming back,” he said, waltzing toward the grill. “I put potato wedges in the oven, screw salad.”

  “Carbs work for me.” Her feet landed on the ground with a gentle thud. “I tried to pick up where the black magic came from but got nothing.”

  “There was no scent to track either.”

  The steaks sizzled against the hot metal grate, reminding her stomach that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “In the morning, we should talk to my father.”

  “Why?” Jackson sipped a beer while he tended to the steaks.

  She opted to sit at the picnic table, staring at the low orange and yellow flames dancing toward the sky in the center of the fire pit. The smell of fresh searing meat tickled her nose. “Because he’s the most powerful wizard I know, and he’ll be able to find out who wants to hurt you.”

  “I don’t trust him. Or any witch for that matter.”

  She snapped her head in Jackson’s direction. “Are you suggesting my father has anything to do with this?”

  He shook his head as he stabbed one of the steaks with a long fork. “No. My instincts tell me your dad is a good man. But only a powerful witch could have turned three sparrows into wolves that quickly.”

  “I could do it.” She bit down on the inside of her mouth. Her magic might be strong, but she wouldn’t be able to construct that spell in an afternoon.

  He turned and arched a brow. “Isn’t it against your witch code to manipulate nature that way and use it to harm others?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have the chops to do it. I’ve been honing my craft for years and while I’m no high priestess, I have the knowledge and besides, my bloodline comes from some of the most powerful magic in all of the witch community.”

  “You’re making my point for me.” He closed the top of the grill. “Anyone in the Royal family probably has the power to construct such a spell. But a spell like that would take a while to perfect, unless you were a high priestess or a wizard.”

  “For someone who says they don’t spend time with witches, you certainly know a lot about us.” She scowled. It could take multiple times to get a spell of that magnitude right. It would cause the death of many innocent creatures, something that was forbidden unless under dire circumstances. Whoever had turned the birds had been practicing black magic for years, and anyone who cared to do
their research on the Royal family would know that many of their ancestors were masters of dark spells and had deep ties to the underground.

  Today, those descendants have been outcast, even if they no longer dabble in the obscure shadows of evil.

  “I learned a lot during my father’s trial. I’d skip school and sneak into the back of the courtroom. My father’s lawyers tried to make all of you look evil.”

  “We’re not bad witches, and no one I know would do this.”

  He let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “You can believe that all you want, but someone close to one of us is responsible for what just happened, though I don’t have any witches that I’m close to, for obvious reasons.”

  “Your agent’s assistant is a witch, as are half a dozen people in our producers’ office. Not to mention—”

  He held up his hand. “I know, and I suppose it could be any one of them. But whoever it is, has a motive for wanting me out of the picture.”

  “Maybe it’s one of your exes. Wasn’t it Heidi who threatened to castrate you?”

  “Among other things, but Heidi hates witches.”

  When he opened the lid to the grill, smoke bellowed out. The rich scent of a well-seasoned cow drifted in the breeze, making her stomach growl. Meat had always been her go-to food.

  “Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t hire one to destroy you.”

  “She’s got no reason.”

  “She said you were cruel, and you cheated on her,” Amanda said, wiping her lips. How could she have kissed him so passionately?

  “No, I didn’t, on either account.” He tossed the steaks on the tray, setting them down in front of her.

  “But there were pictures of you with another—”

  “Those pictures were of me and an old friend who was going through a hard time. The press went nuts, and no matter what I said, Heidi didn’t believe me.”

  “So, why didn’t your friend come forward and say nothing happened?”

  “I don’t know, and she and I are no longer friends.” He scratched the back of his head, staring off into the woods. “Want some wine? I’ve got a nice bottle of red. I’ll go get it along with the potatoes.” His voice inflection turned flat, and his normally bright eyes dulled.

  Before she could comment, he disappeared into the cabin. She remembered his break up with the spoiled actress, who discussed the supposed affair on every talk show she could get herself on. Jackson, on the other hand, continued to be his recluse self, ignoring the press and not once did he make a statement until Heidi had made a snide comment about his family, bringing up his father, and implied that he wasn’t any different. But even then, Jackson not once denied the affair.

  She put a piece of meat on each plate, glancing toward the cabin. He had a reputation for being moody, sometimes difficult to work with, and a ladies’ man, but something about the way he ignored the negative talk, focused on his work, and the way he treated her with dignity and respect, led her to believe that he’d been misjudged and misunderstood his entire life.

  He returned with an opened bottle of wine, glasses, and potatoes that smelled like a little piece of carb heaven.

  “My agent would tell me this kind of food would go straight to my hips.”

  “You’ve got nice hips, but they could use a little more curve.” He raised his glass. “To your hips.”

  “That’s the weirdest toast ever.”

  He shrugged. “Kind of goes along with the day.”

  “Can I ask you something?” She glided the sharp knife through the steak, blood oozing out of the tender piece of meat. Her taste buds exploded in anticipation.

  An owl hooted in the background, only adding to the quaint ambience.

  “Go for it.”

  “Why aren’t you and that woman you were accused of having an affair with no longer friends?”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I suspect it has to do with her husband. He knew we never had a thing for each other, but it caused an issue in their relationship.”

  “So, they’re still married?”

  “They weren’t married when the bogus story broke. They actually just got married about a month ago.”

  Mostly, Jackson seemed to have a laid back, but confident attitude toward life, but she could tell all the hard knocks that had been caused by being the son of Reed Ledger, murderer of Prince Armand Windsor, chipped away at his core personality. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on his energy, pulling it close, inside the bubble of protection. Inhaling sharply, she fixated on his inner aura, discerning a blocked emotional sensor, only Jackson wasn’t stifling it. A dark force inside him choked tiny pieces of the man he should be.

  She swallowed as an evil force, not of his making, seeped from his pores.

  A burning freeze sheathed over her skin. She gasped, opening her eyes, holding her pale arms out to the side.

  “What the fuck?” Jackson knocked over his glass as he leapt across the table.

  Her body shivered as her heartbeat slowed from the cold darkness traveling through her blood stream.

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson’s touched only made the pain in her muscles intensify.

  Unable to move her stiff body, or speak, all she could do is stare at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’d somehow understand that she needed her father.

  Now.

  Or she’d die.

  ***

  Every time Jackson touched Amanda’s frozen skin, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Having no idea what to do, he snagged her phone.

  “Fuck. I need the passcode,” he muttered.

  Her body shivered, and her breath came out in a puffy cloud as if it were the middle of winter in Alaska, not summer in California.

  “If you can hear me, I’m going to try to unlock your phone using your finger, so I can call your father.”

  Her eyes shifted, and he really hoped that meant she was fine with it.

  The second he tapped her finger to the home button, her phone unlocked. Searching her contacts, he found her father’s number. Jackson’s hands trembled as he set the phone on the table on speaker.

  “Hello kiddle, how’s my girl?” Prince Albert said.

  “This is Jackson, and she’s not well. I don’t know what happened, but we were having dinner, and she closed her eyes and then froze. I mean literally froze. Her skin is white and cold to the touch. Her limbs are stiff, and she can’t talk.” He stopped talking to take a breath. “Her breathing is shallow and—”

  “Son, I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say, got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jackson swallowed, shaking out his hands.

  “She needs your werewolf heat, but since you’re the source of the spell—”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain that part later, but for now I need you to hold her and let your heat keep her warm. Tell me where you are, and I’ll get there as quickly as I can.”

  “I’ll text you the address now.” He lifted the phone, dropping it once before managing to send the information.

  “She’s going to act as if she’s in a lot of pain at your touch, but no matter what, don’t let go.”

  “What about putting her near a fire?”

  “That will help, but your werewolf heat is better than anything. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Jackson was about to ask how the hell he would do that, considering it was at least an hour drive, but then he remembered the flying aspect of being a witch. He tapped the phone, ending the call. Scooping her in his arms, he sat down in front of the fire, holding her tight, trying to absorb all the coldness her body projected. He’d seen some pretty weird stuff in his day, but never had he seen anything like this.

  “Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way.” His lips instantly chapped as he kissed her temple, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He kissed more of her exposed skin, the heat from his body beading across her skin.

  A slight moan trickled out of her mouth as her once fr
ozen neck bent slightly, her head resting on his shoulder. In werewolf form, he almost never felt cold. In human form, he could sense cold, but never felt it like other humans.

  Right now, he understood what it was like to be cold.

  A large, white owl, flying low, caught Jackson’s attention. It landed on the ground near his feet, it’s head twisting almost all the way around. The owl opened his wings wide, flapping wildly as it made a horrific noise.

  Jackson stood, holding Amanda, her body slowly defrosting.

  The owl morphed, growing larger.

  Taking a step back, Jackson prepared to run, but the owl stretched into a human form.

  Prince Albert Windsor.

  “Sir,” Jackson croaked out.

  “Sit down. What I’m about to do is going to hurt.”

  “Me?” Jackson did as instructed.

  “Unfortunately, both of you, but it’s necessary.” Albert pulled out a vial from his pocket. “This is going to burn from the inside out. No matter how much it hurts, or how much she cries out, don’t let go and whatever you do, don’t shift to a wolf.”

  Jackson nodded, clenching his teeth as Albert sprinkled the hot liquid over their bodies. His muscles singed, and blisters formed on his skin, as well as Amanda’s. Her fingers dug into his back, tearing his skin. He couldn’t care less; only grateful she could move again. A sharp stabbing pain pelted his head. He fought the urge to toss her off his lap, shift, and run until the pain subsided. A deep howl vibrated in his throat. His skin grew dark with wolf hair, but he continued to force his wolf-self to remain inside.

  Amanda’s body bucked and jerked in his arms, her fists coming down hard on his chest. A thick, black smoke lifted from their bodies, collecting in an angry swirl over their heads.

  “Out of the flesh, into the fire,” Albert said, waving his hands around the ball of smoke. “No more shall you haunt the soul of this creature, be gone with the final shiver of this seizure.”