“John Foster,” Glory gasped. “You big pervert. Does Hilde know you’re out here? And staring at our breasts, no less?”
“Please don’t tell her—your breasts are so big.” Eyes widening, he said, “I mean, I don’t want her to know—I want to touch your breasts.” He shook his head, but his gaze remained glued on Glory’s chest. He licked his lips. “What I mean to say is—double-D fun bags are my favorite.”
Glory smacked him over the head with her broom. “Letch!”
“Bastard!” Godiva grabbed her own broom and popped him dead center in the face.
“This was the wrong day to piss me off, John.” Genevieve didn’t have her broom in hand, so she raised her arms high in the air and uttered another incantation. “You like breasts so much, you can have a pair of your own.”
His shirt ripped down the middle as a huge pair of breasts grew on his chest. He stared down at them, his mouth gaping open. “What the hell! Get them off, get them—hey, these are nice.” Closing his eyes, he reached up and kneaded his new breasts, a rapturous smile spreading across his face. “Mmm,” he muttered.
“Undo the spell!” Glory scowled. “Undo the spell right now. We’ll punish him another way.”
“No, this is punishment,” he cried, covering the man-boobs protectively. “I swear. Don’t take them away. I’ve got to learn my lesson.”
Genevieve did as Glory suggested, and John’s chest shrunk back to its normal size. He bawled like a baby the entire time. He even tried to dart out of their circle, but Godiva locked his feet in place with a wave of her hand.
“Not so fast,” she said.
His eyes widened with horror. “What are you going to do to me? I didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted a peek at your boobies.”
Without saying a word, the three sisters tugged at the rest of his clothing, peeling it from his middle-aged body until he wore nothing but a few teardrops. Since he’d gotten a look at their goods, it was only fair they got a look at his.
“Ew, gross,” Glory said. “Maybe we should dress him again. I’m throwing up in my mouth.”
“That will just waste more time,” Godiva replied. “We’re going to cast our spells around you.”
Glory’s gaze darted between his legs. “Yes, little John, we’re going to cast our spells around you and you’re going to stand there like a good boy and pray the Goddess takes mercy on your soul.”
That dried his tears. “You mean you’re not going to hurt me, and I get to watch you dance? Naked?” He tried real hard not to grin. “Thank you, Great Goddess. Have mercy. Oh, have mercy. Lots and lots of mercy and breasts and mercy. Amen.”
“I swear,” Genevieve said, “you’re the scum of the earth.”
“Ignore him,” Godiva said after another wolf howl echoed through the night. “We need to get to work.”
“Fine.”
“Yes. Let’s hurry.” Genevieve found her broom half buried in a mound of dirt, snatched it up, and rejoined the circle.
The three sisters closed their eyes, blocking out John’s image and his voice, and in perfect sync began their protection spells. Round and round they danced, their hips undulating, their hair swaying, their brooms raised high in the air. Each one chanted under her breath.
While she danced, Godiva stumbled over the spell’s words, unable to push Romeo from her mind. That last howl had sounded pained. Was he hurt again? Should she go looking for him? He was one of the biggest, strongest, fiercest wolves she’d ever seen, but he possessed a gentle and loving nature and other beasts of the forest might trample him.
Suddenly Glory stopped, her breasts jiggling with the abrupt halt.
“What are you doing? Keep moving,” John whined. “I’m still praying.”
She frowned. “Does it feel like the ground is shaking?”
Godiva stilled, followed quickly by Genevieve. In the next instant and seemingly without provocation, Glory stumbled backward and landed on her butt.
“What’s going on?” Godiva gasped as dirt began cracking at her feet. Grass began splitting. Flowers tumbled off of tombstones . . . and then the tombstones themselves tumbled to the ground. “What’s going on?” she asked again, her tone more frenzied.
Glory popped to her feet, and Genevieve paled. “I think—ohmygoddess—I think the bodies are rising!”
“That can’t be.” Glory sucked in a breath, whirling around to scan the surrounding area. “We only called forth their spirits.”
“Well, the dirty bastards didn’t listen!”
“I don’t understand. Did we say the wrong words?” Godiva asked.
A bony hand shot through the cracked dirt and latched onto John’s ankle. Startled, he screamed and would have dropped into a fetal ball and sucked his thumb if his feet hadn’t been frozen in place. All over the cemetery, bodies rose. Most were completely decayed, but all still wore their worm-eaten burial clothes. As they emerged, they limped, lumbered, and trudged toward the sisters. Deadly moans echoed across the distance.
“What should we do?” Glory gasped out, holding out her broom like a sword. “What the hell should we do?”
Agnes McCloud—a woman everyone knew had once been John’s mistress—climbed all the way out of the ground. Seeing her, John started shaking like an epileptic. “Help me,” he cried. “Please, help me. Free my feet.”
Godiva swatted at the skeleton with her broom. “Shoo.” Big chunks of dirt fell out of the dead woman’s hair. “Get back in the ground. I command you.”
Agnes was only recently dead from a car accident, and her face lifted into a grin when she spied John. “John! Oh, my darling Johnnie. I missed you so much.”
“We’ve got to send them back.” Glory’s mouth formed a large O as she counted the number of bodies headed toward them. “They’re multiplying like rabbits!”
“Demons of the Dark,” Godiva shouted, “return to your graves!”
They kept coming.
“Spirits of the Netherworld, be gone!”
Still, they kept coming.
Meanwhile, Agnes had pounced on John and was feasting on him like he was a buffet of sensual delights and she had been on a yearlong fast. Except, the man looked like he would rather eat his own vomit than the dead woman’s tongue. That didn’t stop Agnes.
If she’d had time, Godiva would have snapped a picture of the two with the flip phone. As it was, the rest of the dead bodies finally reached them and closed her and her sisters in a circle, moaning and groaning and reaching out to caress them. Having been without human contact for so long, they were probably desperate for it. Or maybe they were simply hungry and she and her sisters looked like a triple-stacked Egg McMuffin.
Glory shrieked. Godiva swatted at the bony hands with her broom. And Genevieve stood in frozen shock. “Is that . . . Hunter?”
A male form broke through the line of trees, just beyond the cemetery. His skin was intact, his features normal. Except for his eyes. They glowed a bright, vivid red. Obviously, he wasn’t a corpse. But . . . what was he?
“Hunter!” Genevieve called excitedly. “Ohmygoddess, Hunter, over here!”
He turned toward the sound of her voice, and his lips lifted in relief. “Genevieve!”
They sprinted to each other, avoiding dead bodies and Genevieve threw herself into his arms. Godiva couldn’t hear what they were saying. She watched as Hunter flung Genevieve over his shoulder and carted her straight into the forest.
“Godiiiiiva,” Glory gasped. “Don’t just stand there. Help me!”
She shook her head and continued to fight off their molesters with her broom, all the while uttering spell after ineffectual spell. Well, not so ineffectual. Each spell conjured something—just not the help they wanted. A fairy. A gnome. A gorgeous demon high lord. Why were their spells messing up? She still didn’t understand. Each creature materialized at the edge of the forest and stood, watching the proceedings, grinning. One of them even produced a bowl of popcorn and a large soda.
“Two dol
lars says the one with worms in his eyes snags the witch on the left,” the demon said.
“You’re on,” the gnome agreed.
Suddenly a fierce growl overshadowed every other noise, and a pack of wolves raced into the graveyard, snapping and snarling.
“Romeo,” Godiva cried, her relief nearly a palpable force when she recognized her pet.
His teeth bared in a menacing scowl, Romeo leaped up and latched onto the bony arm reaching for her and snapped it off before sprinting away.
“Give that back,” the corpse shouted, chasing after him.
The rest of the wolf pack chased the skeletons in every direction. All except Agnes, who was still sucking John’s face. Godiva and Glory dropped to the ground in relief.
“I never thought I’d be grateful to the wolves,” Glory said. “Should we be worried for Genevieve?”
“No. I think she’ll be fine.” More than fine, actually. “Here, take my hand. We have to send these corpses back to their graves.”
Glory intertwined their fingers. Without the fear of being eaten, they were able to concentrate on their spell. As they chanted, magic began to swirl around them, drifting through the cemetery and luring each dead body back to its grave.
Suddenly, Falon—who had not come to Hunter’s funeral, for some reason—burst from the forest and came running toward them. Rage consumed his features. Godiva blinked over at him in surprise—she’d never seen him move so quickly or so lethally—and from the corner of her eye she saw Glory jolt up, panic storming over her expression.
“I’m naked,” Glory said, her voice frantic. “Where are my clothes? Falon can’t see me naked!” Her movements jerky, she searched the dirt, found the yellow dress Godiva had worn, and tugged it over her head.
Falon skidded to an abrupt stop in front of Glory. “Are you alright?”
His gaze focused on Glory, and Godiva was amused to realize she herself could have been a bloody, writhing mass and he wouldn’t have noticed. Still, she scrambled for the clothing littering the ground, a pair of stone-washed jeans and a pink sweater.
“We’re fine,” Glory said stiffly. She pushed to her feet and smoothed her hair out of her face, looking anywhere but at Falon. “How did you know we were in trouble?”
A tinge of color darkened his cheeks. “I sensed it.”
Well, well, well. Godiva had never seen the two exchange a single word, yet here they were, acting as if they knew each other. How interesting. Sexual attraction sparked between them, white-hot, intense. Nearly palpable.
“Well, you’re too late,” Glory told Falon. “We took care of everything ourselves.”
Just then Romeo appeared in front of Godiva, claiming her attention. “There’s my good boy,” she said, reaching out for him. He dropped an arm bone at her feet as if it were the greatest prize in the world and nuzzled her with his nose. She luxuriated in his soft black fur as his tongue flicked out and licked her collarbone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Eww.” Glory balled her fists on her hips. “I know I’ve said your boyfriends were dogs in the past, but hello. This one is a dog. Don’t let him lick you like that. Have him neutered, at the very least.”
“He’s my special sweetie.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “My hero.”
Glory turned on her heel. “I’m outta here,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’ll walk you home,” Falon said.
She didn’t bother glancing in his direction. “No, you won’t.”
“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” The determined man strode to Glory’s side, keeping pace beside her.
“I don’t need your help, jerk-off.”
“I’m giving it anyway.”
Their voices faded. Romeo growled at Glory’s retreating back, then looked up into the sky and howled. As he howled, his body elongated and his fur fell away. Godiva gasped and jerked away from him. Skin and muscled ridges were forming. Ribs, fingers, and toes. Bronzed skin.
“Romeo?” she asked, frightened. Her mouth went dry, and her heart pounded against her ribs. He was . . . beautiful. “Romeo?” The name emerged on a breathless catch of air this time.
Dark gold human eyes were suddenly staring down at her, and she drank in the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. Perfectly chiseled cheekbones, perfectly sloped nose. Full, lush pink lips made for kissing. Her gaze traveled downward, taking in the rest of him. His chest was wide and muscled, like velvet poured over steel. And his—“Oh, Great Goddess.” Hello, satisfaction.
“I’ve been dying to do this all week, but was afraid you’d stop coddling and petting me.” He grinned wickedly. “You are not mad?”
His voice was rough and husky, and so sexy she shivered. Gulping, she blinked up at him. “Not mad. Promise.”
“I would like a chance to coddle you. Let me take you home.”
To bed, echoed in her mind, unsaid. “Yes. Take me home.”
Six
“You’re here,” Genevieve said as Hunter slid her down his body.
“You’re really here.” She circled him, disbelief, joy, and sexual hunger eating at her. Pink pollen twirled around them.
Hunter remained utterly still. He was as harshly gorgeous as ever, only somehow more savage looking. Her heart thrummed with excitement, even as confusion rocked her. “How are you here? You aren’t a corpse and you aren’t a spirit, but you’ve been gone for three days.”
Trees swayed around them, and the scent of moon-magic and jasmine wafted headily through the air. Rays of muted light illuminated the clearing.
“I . . . didn’t die,” he said. He stared at her neck, his eyes red. “I should leave.”
“No! Stay.” She bit her bottom lip. Never had she been more overjoyed, more confused. “Why are your eyes red? Wait, the red is fading. I don’t understand. What happened to you?”
He didn’t answer.
She forgot the question, anyway, as she reached out, hands brushing his jacket to the ground. She was already naked; she wanted him naked, too. Nothing else mattered really. Next she unbuttoned his shirt. It, too, pooled at their feet. Her fingers met his chest, paler than before but strong.
“I missed you so much,” she told him. “When I thought you were dead, I wanted to die, too.”
“Genevieve,” he said, the sound of her name a moan of pleasurepain. He squeezed his eyelids together. “I should go. You’re safe now.”
“Don’t leave. Stay with me. Please.”
“Something happened—”
“However you survived, I don’t care. I just want you.” She flattened her palms over his chest, his nipples deliciously abrasive. “Mmm. So good.”
His hands tangled in her hair, and their gazes locked. “I want to kiss you.”
“Do it. Kiss me.”
He leaned toward her and nuzzled his nose over her neck. “You smell so good. Better than I remembered.” The more he spoke, the more slurred his words became.
“Kiss me, Hunter. Please.”
He paused only a moment before straightening and crushing his lips against hers. His tongue slid into her mouth, already heating, already slick and flavored with passion. He tasted like urgency. They’d been apart so long—days that seemed to have stretched beyond eternity.
Her hands tore at the button on his pants, and in seconds, he was naked. All the while, he rained little kisses over her entire face. Desire rushed through her blood. “No more waiting,” she said breathlessly.
“No more waiting,” he agreed. Something dark blanketed his expression, his eyes suddenly going red again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice rough, filled with determination.
“I know.”
“Good.” He tumbled her to the ground. His lips clamped around her hard, aching nipple, and his hand trailed down her stomach, raising gooseflesh. He stopped at the apex of her thighs, dabbling at the fine tuft of dark hair.
“Yes, good,” she moaned.
She kneaded her hands down his strong torso, re
veling in the hard muscles hidden under male skin. Power radiated from him. My lover, she thought dazedly. My man. Mine, all mine. The passion, the desire, the pleasure he gave her surpassed her wildest imaginings. And he hadn’t even entered her yet.
He began sucking her nipple, his teeth surprisingly sharp, wringing another gasp from her. He licked away the delicious sting. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not going to hurt you,” he chanted.
“You can’t. As long as you’re with me, you can’t.”
“How did I push you away all these years?” His voice was strained, laden with carnal intent, heavy with arousal.
She arched into his fingers, silently begging him to move them inside her. No, wait. She stilled. Before she forgot everything but his touch, she wanted to fulfill the fantasy that had been floating through her mind for years. “I want to take you in my mouth.”
Like a sea siren of long ago, she rose over him, her hair falling like a dark curtain. She walked her fingers down the muscled ridge of his chest. Scars slashed left and right over his ribs, jagged badges of past pain. This was not the body of a bar owner. This was the body of a warrior.
He sucked in a breath when she licked each of his nipples. He moaned when she cupped his testicles.
“You aren’t just a bar owner,” she said, voicing her thoughts and blowing a hot puff of air on his abdomen. His muscles quivered. “You’re much more.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it. Move a little lower, sweetheart, and help me forget.” He growled, and hearing that desire-rough growl made her shiver.
“Besides running the bar, what is it you do?” she persisted. She wanted to know him. She didn’t want to simply be his lover, she wanted to be his confidante. His . . . everything.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Hunt vampires, demons, and other creatures of the night. That’s how I got my name.”
She circled his navel with her tongue. His hips shot toward the sky.
“Have you destroyed very many?” she asked.
“Many.” An aroused breath shuddered past his lips, and his eyes closed. “Then I met you and decided to settle here and now I think it’d be a really good idea if you moved a little lower. I don’t want to talk about the past anymore.”