Wickedest Witch (2 page)

Ignoring it,
Barry kept drying the glass in his hands. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”
Hell, he’d scrub it with sandpaper from his brain if he could. He slid the money closer.

Barry nudged it back. They engaged in a see
-saw that involved the tattered bill for a few moments before Barry fixed him with a hard look. Ryker gave him his best pathetic look. Yeah, it didn’t work on his mother, and it sure didn’t work on his friend.

Barry shook his head and
sighed. “Dude, drinking won’t make whatever happened go away.”

“Dass what you tink,”
replied Ryker. With a shake of his head, he tried to dislodge the cloud that fogged his mind and words. It just made the bloody room spin more erratically. Barry really should talk to an engineer about the problem. Right after he got Ryker a beer. It took him a blink, okay, two, before he realized Barry had wandered off to serve other folks.

Traitor.
Just for that, I should take my business elsewhere.
He knew a fridge with a cold six-pack that wouldn’t give him attitude. But, going home alone didn’t appeal. He leaned his chin on the bar and stared in the mirror to see if there was anyone left with an X-chromosome drunk enough to take him on. The remaining pickings in the bar had devolved into single, hopeful men like himself and a few couples. Preferring pussy, that knocked the guys out, and as for the duos, Ryker did not do threesomes, well, except that one time with the best friends—there wasn’t a man alive who would have said no to that pair of wood nymphs. What a night that turned out to be. Pity they’d never called back. Then again, maybe he should thank his lucky stars. Last he heard, they’d gone to the forest to root and raise saplings. Not his, thank God. How he would have explained to his mother that she had trees for grandchildren he didn’t know.

With no single lady in sight, and no beer forthcoming, Ryker decided
it was time to leave. Standing proved a tad more difficult than expected, though, especially when the room began to tilt and spin, much like the ride at the amusement park his niece made him go on. Sitting down hard, Ryker rested his arms on the counter and put his face in his hands.

This is fucking pathetic.
How far he’d fallen. Letting family and a woman—a woman he didn’t even love or like—sink him so low.

The bitter scent of coffee—black
and strong enough to sprout hair on even the smoothest of chests—drifted into his cocoon of self-inflicted misery.

“Drink up, old man,” said his best friend, make that only friend, Barry. An acerbic tongue and hot temper did not endear
Ryker to many people.

          
Wrapping big hands around the warm mug, Ryker gulped down some of the piping hot brew, the instant caffeine jolt bringing some clarity back to his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Anytime. And when you’re ready to tell me what happened, give me a shout.
You know I’ll listen. You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with pack shit.” Poor Barry. As a grizzly bear who hated living in the woods, he’d gone through his own version of hell when he decided to leave the mountains for the city. To this day, his family still refused to speak to him.

“I know.” And eventually
, he would unburden himself. Probably even do a little jig he didn’t get roped into a marriage he’d neither searched for nor wanted. But right now, with the humiliation fresh, he wanted to marinate in his misery a while longer.

With each sip of the coffee, the spinning and haze in his head got better, the
bitter brew and his metabolism working to clear the alcohol from his system. As he drained the last of the java and put the cup down, the door to the bar opened, and in blew a sharp, cold breeze. It also brought with it a stranger bearing a tantalizing scent. A woman whom Ryker noticed immediately, as did his inner beast. It woke with a rumble and urged him to take a closer sniff.

Why?
His inner feline didn’t reply. Unlike what some people thought, those who could shift in to beasts couldn’t actually speak to their inner creatures. All their interaction occurred with feelings, primitive, base emotions and urges. It didn’t mean Ryker didn’t understand what his cat wanted. That was more than clear. It wanted him to go sniff the female’s butt. Shove his nose right between her thighs and inhale deep.

Drunk or not
, Ryker suspected that wouldn’t go over well. His uncle Fred had spent time in jail for doing that one too many times.

Explaining legalities to his cat, though, didn’t quite work. His feline insisted they investig
ate. He tossed another why his kitty’s way. Pacing the edges of his mind, the only thing his feline could convey was yummy.

Gonna have to give me
a better reason than because she smells good. B
ecause, personally, Ryker found the broad a tad too skinny for his taste. Then again, given she was the only woman in the place…
I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
On the plus side, though, despite her less than plump shape, she didn’t need a paper bag over her head.

Model slim and tall, her
long, straight black hair framed an angular face. Perfectly arched brows accented her sharp brown gaze while her lips, painted a bright red, thinned into a straight line. Seemed he wasn’t the only one less than impressed with the view. He watched as she debated with herself; stay or go. Only because of his close scrutiny did he notice the moment she made her decision; her shoulders slumped a fraction, only for a brief moment, before squaring. Head held high, she sauntered to the bar as if she owned the place and ordered a glass of red wine.

A
woman with attitude. Nice.

T
he sweet smell of shampoo and a musky perfume wafted over from her direction and Ryker’s nose twitched—along with a body part further south. As if bespelled—despite the impossibilit
y—
Ryker found himself unable to look away.
I have to talk to her.

As if f
eeling his stare upon her, the woman glanced over, cool and appraising. Raising a brow, she looked him up and down before meeting his gaze with a condescending smirk on her bright red lips. Some guys would have found it a turn off, not him. Just ask his swelling cock—women with character always drew him.

H
is mouth curled into a masculine grin that had gotten more than one pair of panties dropped. He clearly heard her snort and caught her disdainful sniff before she turned away, dismissing him.

Ryker’s dark brows drew together in consternation.
What the fuck? No woman came into a bar this time of night alone unless she was looking for a hook up. Even drunk, most women fawned over him, or at least the ones with a bit of back bone. The timid types tended to find his size a tad intimidating. So what was her deal? Did she bat for the other team? What a waste of pussy.

Barry, seeing his scowl, came over with a chuckle. “Don’t feel bad, Ryker. She’s a cold one.”

“You know her?” Ryker asked, still facing her even though she’d given him her ramrod straight back.

Lowering his voice, Barry leaned closer. “I know who she is, and I can say with great confidence that you’d have to be insane to get involved with her even for one night.”

“Why?” The warning intrigued him.

“You are looking at the Wickedest Witch.
”

“Not
the Wickedest Witch
.”

“The one and only.”

Well, hot damn. The name, an infamous one whispered about almost as much as his, caught Ryker’s attention and he swiveled toward Barry. “Are you sure?”

“
Oh it’s her all right. She started coming to the bar around the time you left for home.”

Ryker shook his head. “No way. You’re fucking with me. I thought she was supposed to be an old crone.
” He’d definitely pictured her more haglike. Warty even.

“
She could be,” whispered Barry while shooting nervous glances at the woman. “She is a witch after all. I’ve heard they can cast spells to make themselves look like anyone they want.”

If that were true, then
what a shame she’d chosen tall and skinny because Ryker preferred his women with a little plush; it made the pumping more comfortable. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Ryker still had an itch. “Spell or not, I’m horny. As for her reputation, I know from experience how exaggerated those are. I mean, look at her. She seems harmless.”

“For now.”

“Come on, how bad could she be?” And really, what could she do to hurt him? He outweighed her by probably at least eighty pounds. If he couldn’t handle a skinny witch, then he needed a neutering and a frilly dress.

Barry laughed, a sound he quickly tempered. “
Appearances can be deceiving. Trust me when I say she is just as bad as the rumors indicate. You remember Derek?”

V
aguely—a punk ass thief with some magical skill for cloaking. “What about him?”

“He dated her for a while, and then one day
, he disappeared. Sources say she turned him into a door mat. Or was that a dormouse. I don’t quite recall other than it wasn’t really nice.”

Ryker put little stock in rumors, especially since there were plenty flying around about him, and while some h
eld a semblance of truth, others would rival the tallest tales.
Witch or not, I want to get to know her. Something about her is pulling at me.
Not to mention his beast hadn’t stopped pacing and chuffing inside since it had scented her. Besides, he liked a challenge. To boldly go where no man dared.

“Derek’s a wimp,” said Ryker. “A pretty girl like her needs a man—a real man.”

“And let me guess, you think you’re that guy?” said Barry, rolling his eyes. “Care to wager on it?”

“Damned straight. What are we playing for?” Ryker found himself perking up from the funk he’d languished in since his return to town.

“I wager you can’t even get her to smile.”

A chuckle escaped him
. Way too easy. Ryker grinned. “You’re on.”

“What are we playing for?”

“I win and you let me drink free for the next week.”

“Lose and you tell me what happened when you went home.”

Cocky and confident, Ryker didn’t hesitate slapping his hand against Barry’s. “You’re on. Better prepare to call your beer suppliers. I feel a week long binge coming on.”

Barry snorted as Ryker strutted his stuff over to the witch.

Piece of fucking cake.

T
he big brute, who’d eyed her since the moment she walked in, lurched over to the stool alongside her and Evangeline restrained a shudder at the alcoholic stench he emitted. Had he
bathed
in the beer? Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she tried to ignore his imposing presence, not an easy task.

Built
on the lines of a brick house, the man took up a lot of space, and most of it appeared as muscle, not fat. A point in his favor given she disliked overweight slobs. The stranger might have achieved passably attractive had he at least shaven the bristly shadow that covered his face and run a comb through his shaggy mop of dark hair. Intoxicated, and dressed one step above a vagrant—IE stained plaid shirt buttoned incorrectly with grease-stained, well-wornjean
s—
he redefined the term diamond in the rough.

The interest in his
bloodshot eyes made her want to sigh.
Great. I wonder what lame pickup line he’s going to try.
If this weren’t the closest magic friendly bar in town, she’d have stopped popping in for a drink after completing her most recent job, but sometimes, a witch wanted to relax in the company of other people—make that beings—without trying to hide behind a mask of humanity. Not to mention she still hadn’t found an escort for her sister’s wedding and with the date drawing closer, just about any man, or creature, would do. Or not, she thought as she caught a whiff of her new neighbor.

“Hey there, cutie. I don’t suppose you’d give me a smile?” Her would-be suitor grinned at her engagingly, and while another type of woman might have found it endearing, Evangeline had yet to move on from her men-were-scum stage.
Derek’s break up with her still rankled. Too evil indeed. Just the reminder heightened her already foul mood, which was why it surprised her to realize that something about him made her libido take notice. With a yawn and a stretch, her body woke and urged her to say hello, and not just with her mouth. Something about the stranger apparently appealed, which totally pissed her off. She hated not controlling every aspect of her life and body.

“Why don’t you try your lame pickup line on someone a little drunker and blonder?” She gave him credit when his smile didn’t falter.

“Lucky me, you’re not just cute, you come with a shitload of attitude. Have I mentioned I like that in a woman?”

“I’d prefer you not speak to me at all.”

“And leave a gorgeous babe like yourself to drink all alone? Doesn’t seem right if you ask me.”

G
orgeous? She snorted. He only saw what she wanted him to see. What she showed the world. “No one’s asking you, and I didn’t come here to get hit on.”