Alicia Dean - Heart of the Witch

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ENSORCELLED HEARTS

"You're not making any sense," Ravyn snapped. "I'd give anything to find and stop this maniac. I don't know what you're accusing me of, or why. Why?"

Nick sighed and shook his head. "Damn it, I don't know. I don't know."

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Nick."

He gave her a small, humorless smile. "Sorry for what? Are you sorry Kayne is a dangerous fanatic? Or are you sorry that I can't stop thinking about you, can't stop wanting you? Sorry that my desire for you is stronger than it ever was for my dead wife?" He grabbed her once more and pulled her to him. "Do you have any idea how crazy that is? How it makes me feel? I want you every second of every day. Even with people dying around me, even with the frustration and guilt of not being able to stop this murdering psychopath, I still want you. It's it's like I'm under some sort of spell."

To my extraordinary, beautiful, precious children, Lana, Lacey, and Presley.

You are my world.

To my best friend, Paigea truly exceptional person

and her girls, Kyleigh and Alexandra, who I love as

though they were my own.

LOVE SPELL

December 2009

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

200 Madison Avenue

New York, NY 10016

Copyright 2009 by Alicia Dean

Cover art by Anne Cain.

ISBN 10: 0-505-52826-6

ISBN 13: 978-0-505-52826-1

E-ISBN: 978-1-4285

The name "Love Spell" and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

10 987654321

Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com.

I believe the one thing that has surprised me most in my journey as a writer is the genuine encouragement and support my fellow authors have shown. I've been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of so many wonderful people along the way: My OKRWA chapter, my critique group (The Sooner Writers), Judith Rochelle and her magic wishing well, and the fantastic men and women I've met through the Wild Rose Press and online loops such as Contest Alert and ProOrg. But of all the amazing people I've come in contact with in the writing world, none can compare to the generous and remarkable Sharon Sala. Thank you so much for being the catalyst that made this happen. For that, and all of your other exceptional qualities, I love you. You'll always be very special to me.

Also, I'd like to thank my mentor, Mel Odom. Without his teaching and inspiration, I would never have had the confidence to finish that first book. I would also like to thank Jordan Dane for all she's done. I am awed by her success and the fact that she's still willing to reach out to assist aspiring authors. Thanks to my friend, Rhonda Penders, for her unfailing help and belief in me, even though she's not into the "eerie" stuff I write. Thanks to Faith V. Smith and Martha Kopcienski for reading my book and offering insightful suggestions.

I want to thank my family for a lifetime of love and support. My mother, Eva Robertson, for being the most giving and loving mother I could ever hope to have. My father, Dean Robertson. Although he's no longer with us, I will always carry the memory of his gentle love and encouragement.

My loving and supportive sister and friend, Ruth, and her husband, Tom, whose greatness as a brother-in-law is surpassed only by his perfection as a husband. My sister, Sheri, who I adore and who is always there for me, and who I think has been more excited throughout this process than I have, and her husband, Larry. My kind, loving, sister, Janis, and my brother, Brett. To my beautiful nieces and nephews. To Madison, even though I'm not able to see you, not a day goes by that the kids and I don't think of you and miss you, and our love for you will never change. Thank you, Liz, for being my lifelong friend. And her beautiful children, Preston, Kandis, and Nathan, who will always have a special place in my heart love you so much.

My terrific agent, Meredith Bernstein, who hung in there with me. And my fantastic editor, Chris Keeslar, who believed in my book enough to take a chance.

I have been truly blessed with a tremendous network of friends and family and I am honored beyond measure to have them beside me as I see my dream come true. I can't possibly name everyone, it would take me more pages than my actual book, but I hope that you know who you are and that I've told you along the way how much you mean to me. If not, I'm telling you now.

If she didn't wake soon, he'd have to cut her. He wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

Moonlight filtered into the cabin through sheet-covered windows, casting a patchwork of shadows on her face. She was a beauty. In the brief moments before she lost consciousness, he'd seen her eyes: a deep, rich green with flecks of amber. Never in his life had he seen eyes that color. He'd been so captivated, he'd nearly forgotten the chloroform.

Her hair was the color of midnight with streaks of crimson, and it fell in glossy waves around her shoulders. Dark lashes lay on her pale cheeks. She had full lips, with a slight overbite. Soooo sexy. She had full breasts, rounded hips, long shapely legs. Her feminine curves were the kind that drove men wild. She wasn't emaciated like so many women these days. It was sickening, the way they starved themselves to skin and bones, leaving nothing a man could hold on toor sink a blade into.

A cracking noise sounded, and he lifted his head. Had a hunter wandered too close? At this time of year in southeast Oklahoma, hunting was almost a religion. He ran a high risk of detection by some redneck with more firepower than brains. That didn't matter, though. The risk only added to the thrill.

The sound came again, and this time he recognized it: a log popping in the fireplace. He let out a relieved sigh.

The risk might add excitement, but he was in no hurry to be discovered by Billy Bob Redneck and his hillbilly bud' dies. There was too much yet to be enjoyed. Some pleasures shouldn't be rushed.

The girlRavyn, he'd learned from her driver's licensegroaned. He felt a swelling in his loins, and his arousal pressed against his zipper. The groan was just the beginning. The groan meant she would soon be awake, that she would soon be a witness to the pleasures he took with her body. He always waited until they were awake. Without consciousness, there was no fear. Without fear, there was no satisfaction.

His heart raced. He'd never been this excited before. He hoped to make this woman last longer than the others. "Time to wake up, my lovely," he whispered. His spine tingled with anticipation. Soon. Very soon.

The ecstasy had begun the first time he lost a patient in surgery. Even though it hadn't been on purpose, her death had given him a thrill beyond measure. He'd discovered that the power to take a life was more exhilarating than the ability to save one. Since, taking lives had developed into a pleasure beyond imagining.