Maximum Witch

chapter Thirteen


“Please God, tell me that’s a hypothetical question.”

Willa met Aurele’s pleading stare. “Uh…no.” She shifted her focus to Max, who was gaping at her like she’d just beaned him with a two-by-four. “A few days ago, a friend of mine got into a bit of a pickle.”

Max’s eyes became slitted, reminding her of a shark. Oh yeah. He was. Duh. “What kind of trouble?”

“The leviathan contracted her soul and spirited her away to purgatory.”

He grunted. “Yep. You could say that’s a hell of a pickle.”

“Anyway, I went there. To purgatory, I mean. And let me tell you, that place sucks.”

“Oh dear.” Aurele rocked back and forth, fussing with the hem of her cardigan. “This isn’t good at all.”

“What I don’t understand is how the damn ugly beast was able to call Willa by name. How would it even know who she was?”

“At the core of their DNA, they’re soul collectors. Not all leviathans take that path, but they’re born with the necessary tools for the trade. One of those tools is the ability to read the blueprints on every soul that crosses its path.”

Willa gaped at Aurele. “Our souls come with freaking blueprints?”

“In a manner of speaking. Obviously this leviathan became curious about you. Enough to scan your soul and learn your identity.” Aurele’s fidgeting increased and she gave a low, plaintive moan. “I prayed this day would never come. Little good that did.”

“Okay, so a few leviathans know about Willa. The only way they’ll get to her is over my dead body.”

Looking at Max—oh so big, bad and buff—it was easy to imagine him defending her to the death. But the idea of him actually dying for her? Nope, not something she wanted to contemplate. She’d already lost enough of her loved ones.

The realization that she equated Max with love gave her pause.

Wow, did she actually…love him? They barely knew each other, for goddess’s sake. Then again, what she did know about Max certainly was enough to touch her heart. Like Aurele said, he was a good, honorable man. He reminded her of her dad, in many ways. Or at least, what she thought she remembered about her father. Obviously her mother had found enough reason to fall in love with Daniel Jameson. Maybe she’d found the same ingredients for love lurking within Max.

And didn’t that just freaking complicate things, considering she’d probably picked the worst possible time to fall in love. Yeah, that whole watery Armageddon thing? Pretty much put the kibosh on white picket fences and baby nymph sharks.

“Earth to Willa.”

She snapped to and found Max looking at her. “Hmm?”

“I want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“You mean about me staying out of the leviathans’ clutches? Yeah, I’m down with that plan.”

“Good. But it means trusting me to protect you. So no more running off, comprende?”

“I didn’t run—” She broke off with a sigh. Who was she kidding? She had run off. “I promise to stay glued to your side. How’s that?”

He tugged her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Tomorrow I’ll give Reva’s grandson a call and see if I can’t put a bug in his ear about heightening security at whatever prison Reva’s being held in. Better to be safe than sorry.”

She managed a short nod before yawning. Aurele hefted to her feet, her expression stern. “You look ready to drop dead from exhaustion. Why don’t you and Max stay here tonight? The guest bedroom is already made up.”

Willa stifled another yawn. “We can’t impose on you like that.”

“Don’t be foolish. It’s a long drive back to Savannah.” Aurele transferred her gaze to Max. “You’re staying.”

Willa rolled her eyes while Max accepted the invitation. If you could even call it that. More like an order. Still, as Aurele led her and Max down the hall, she had to admit she was glad they weren’t driving back tonight. Besides being tired, she desperately needed the warm, comforting memories that Aurele’s little bungalow provided. Real memories. Of weekend sleepovers and rowdy, cutthroat games of Monopoly that would go into the wee hours of dawn. Silly as it might be, the idea of deluding herself into believing everything was normal was too tempting to resist, even if the illusion only lasted until the harsh rays of morning brought reality crashing back.

They stepped into the guest bedroom, and Aurele scrounged in the closet for a spare blanket. “I have some extra pajamas if you need ’em.” She glanced at Max. “Sorry, nothing that’ll fit you.”

Willa pictured Max squeezed into a pair of Aurele’s granny flannels and smothered a giggle. Max took the blanket and started for the door. Willa cleared her throat. “Where are you going?”

“I thought I’d take the couch.”

“Why?”

His gaze shot in Aurele’s direction. The older woman made a grumping noise. “As if I haven’t figured out what’s going on between you two. I may be older than Moses, but I’m not blind.” Aurele stepped around Max, giving him a not-so-gentle shove toward the bed. “Fortunately, my hearing isn’t what it used to be, so go at the noisy sex all you want. Not like I’ll be any the wiser.”

Aurele shuffled from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving a very red-faced Max behind. Willa bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“She’s, uh, blunt, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea.” The mattress squeaked as she plopped onto the foot of the bed and unbuckled her sandals before kicking them off. She wiggled her toes and popped the buttons free on her blouse. All the while, she noticed Max’s unblinking scrutiny riveted to her. She shimmied free from her top. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m still trying to absorb the fact that you’re the heir to the throne of Atlantis.”

“I know. Pretty ridiculous, eh? I mean, honestly.” She spread her arms out wide. “I’m not exactly princess or queen material.” And truthfully, she didn’t want to be. Not if it meant dealing with a whacko, murdering duchess and a legion of leviathans.

Max joined her on the bed. “Aurele’s right, you know. Ordinary doesn’t belong in your vocabulary.” He brushed his fingertips along her cheek. His touch held wonder, but also a hint of something that felt too much like sadness. Or regret.

He dropped his hand, and it was as if an invisible wall was being erected between them. She didn’t understand it. Or like it. “Not as if it matters anyway. No one knows I’m alive. And seeing how there’s a vengeful siren who’d love to get her paws on me, I have no intention of correcting everyone’s assumption that I’m dead.”

“It’s wrong that you’re being denied your birthright. Reva should be brought to trial and properly sentenced. Then there’d be no need for you to remain in hiding.”

She could practically hear Max’s teeth grinding. “I want nothing more than for my parents’ murderer to be punished, Max. But even if she was, I don’t want anything to do with that throne.”

He gaped at her. “How can you say that? Sweetheart, it’s your legacy.”

“I don’t care. It means nothing to me. I’m perfectly content with being a witch, living my quiet, uneventful life.” She grimaced. “Okay, it used to be uneventful up until a week ago, anyway.”

Max shot to his feet and began pacing in front of her. “There’s a part of your history that Aurele left out. It may change your mind about your heritage.”

“I doubt it.”

He stopped burning his path in the carpet, his features set with a fierce determination. “When your mother chose your father, she gave up her crown. Now you have the opportunity to make things right, by reclaiming the title.”

She frowned. “What did her marrying my dad have to do with it?”

“He was a commoner. The Atlanteans are sticklers when it comes to not polluting the bloodlines. Remember what Aurele said about your family being the last direct link to Poseidon? That’s what kept the throne in your family’s possession throughout the ages.”

“But if my mother was denied ruling privileges, what makes you think I would be given any? I’m half human. Talk about a big black mark on my candidacy.”

“Normally that would be the case, yes. But you’re the last of the Anastasios. Without you, there is no ruler of Atlantis.”

“What the hell is an Anastasios?”

“You’re an Anastasios. It’s your family name.”

She mulled it over. “I like Jameson a lot better. Anastasios sounds too much like one of the bad guys from a James Bond flick. I’m picturing him with an eyepatch and a false gold tooth that’s really a wireless communicator that sends top-secret transmissions to his lair in the Swiss Alps.”

Max gaped at her before plowing his fingers through his hair and grunting. “Great, now I can’t remember what I was going to say.”

She offered him an innocent smile, and he growled. Ignoring his surliness, she removed the rest of her clothes and set her glasses on the nightstand for safekeeping. “Why don’t you stop your fretting for now and come to bed?”

“Men don’t fret, goddamn it.”

“Please. You’re worse than Aurele.”

Glowering, he stripped down to his skivvies and climbed beneath the sheets with her. They faced each other, and she automatically cuddled into his heat, resting her head in the crook of his arm. “I didn’t say it before, but I want you to know I appreciate you being here for me. I’m just sorry you’ve been dragged into all of this craziness.”

He smoothed her hair away from her forehead. She nuzzled into his touch, grateful to have this intimacy back. The awkward barrier she’d sensed earlier still hovered in the distance, but damn if she’d let it sneak too close.

She snuggled into Max, breathing him deep, his ocean musk more potent than an aphrodisiac. She remembered his claim about their energies being drawn to each other. Did that explain this wild craving he brought out in her? Maybe a little. But the chaotic emotion filling the chambers of her heart wasn’t lust. She traced the contours of his bristly jaw before coaxing his head nearer. Their lips met, and she poured every ounce of her love into the kiss.

A tremor ran through Max, and she felt his resistance as he struggled against whatever force had erected that invisible barrier. She reached for his thickening erection and stroked him through the cotton of his briefs, capturing his frustrated groan within her mouth. Her tongue slicked along his, an unspoken plea to return her love. End her loneliness.

His hands bracketed her face, and he kissed her with the intensity of a man consumed by the fires of passion. Or the demons of repressed desire. She twisted the waistband of his briefs, impatiently tugging it past his hips and the firm globes of his ass. The garment caught around his knees, and she used her foot to free it the rest of the way from his legs. He rolled her onto her back, the hardness of his cock nudging her slit. She arched into him, but he hesitated. Undulating beneath him, she whimpered, desperate to be filled. Taken.

“Willa, I don’t deserve what you’re offering.” The possessiveness in his eyes undermined his words.

“This is a really crappy time to become a gentleman.” She trailed her nails over his tensed glutes, and his pupils dilated in reaction. If he thought there was any chance in hell he wouldn’t be buried inside her within the next five seconds, he was about to be proven wrong. “Up until now, you’ve had no problem sweet talking me into sex.”

“That was before…”

“Before what?”

His fingers glided over her bottom lip. “I knew who you were.”

This was about that? “You cannot be serious.”

“Willa, when I took my oath as sheriff, I swore to protect and serve you. Not f*ck you.”

“Wow, was that actually written in the speech?”

“Damn it, stop being glib.” He pressed his forehead against hers and blew out a weary breath, his exhale feathering her lips. “I could be court-martialed for this.”

“Then I guess we better make it worth it.” Before he could balk further, she angled her hips, the position thrusting the head of his shaft inside her a fraction. Max stiffened—in more ways than one—and groaned. She wrapped her legs around him, forcing him to sink deeper. His delicious thickness stretched her, filling her even as her heart overflowed with emotion. “Max…” His name trembled on her lips.

His mouth sought hers, absorbing her cry as his thumb caressed her *oris, igniting the bundle of nerves. He pumped in and out of her in a slow, leisurely manner that soon had her nails digging into his flanks. Her vision hazed, her breaths growing choppy. Intense pleasure glimmered on the horizon, like a wave preparing to crash.

“Do it, baby. Come on my cock. Now.”

The climax ripped through her, bowing her body into a tight arch. At least Max had the foresight to slam his mouth over hers, corking her shout. No matter how limited Aurele’s hearing might be, no way would she have missed that if it’d slipped free. Max kept moving, the power of his thrusts increasing until his body was a slippery canvas of sweat. He suddenly reached for her legs, unhooking them from his waist and lifting her thighs high, anchoring them with his forearms as his cock bottomed out with one blinding plunge. She gasped.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Each word fell from Max on staggered breaths. Speech impossible, she shook her head. He pumped into her in a series of short, tunneling strokes. “Wanna be…deep inside you…when I—” His rhythm faltering, Max gave a final thrust, the cords in his neck straining as his body shuddered.

Max in the throes of orgasm was a thing of beauty. Just watching him was enough to trip her over the edge again, and she joined him on the tail end of his climax. Afterwards he held her close, and she listened to their heartbeats thudding in unison. Even as the first of his snores floated free, she decided to let him off the hook. Yeah, he definitely had a habit of falling asleep on her immediately following sex. But damn, was it ever worth it.





With moonlight filtering through the trees, Harrison waited for the six other leviathans to abandon their scattered posts in the woods ringing Bon Revere. It hadn’t been easy gaining the compliance of the levis. In fact, it’d taken close to three hours of intense bribing and cajoling to get the a*sholes to see things his way. In the end, the promise of meaningless titles that they could lord over the other leviathans had secured their talents. Only now Harrison’s schedule was severely set back. But if all went according to plan, he’d soon be one step closer to making all of his dreams a reality. It was that knowledge that sparked a strong dose of self-satisfaction in Harrison’s chest as he skulked from his own hiding spot.

He arrived at the front entrance of the antebellum mansion as two of the levis snapped the necks of the pufferfish guards, permanently ending their pathetic, useless lives. After a quick rifle through the key ring of the nearest dead guard, he located the key that fit the front door. His six henchmen flanking him, he made his way inside the darkened house.

Harrison’s disdain escalated while he scanned the silhouetted forms of various, dozing guards. This would be easy. Shit, he could have killed all these silly idiots on his own and not bothered with recruiting a team.

Oh well. His six comrades were a decent start on the army he and Reva would require. Motioning for his fellow leviathans to begin eliminating the remaining guards, Harrison approached the two walrus shifters snoozing outside the basement door. He stretched his forearms, allowing his tentacles to take shape, and quickly stabbed through the unconscious guards’ chests. The energy required to manifest his tentacles drained him slightly, making him woozy, but the thrill of utilizing his true form made up for the unpleasant side effects. Curling his tentacles around their hearts, he basked in the final pump of blood through the constricting chambers before they beat no more. He shoved the dead shifters aside and gave his bloodied tentacles a disgusted glance. How unpleasant, being soiled by the lowly creatures.

Wiping himself clean on the guards’ uniforms, he once again adopted the form of human arms. Much as he despised their ugly gangliness, they did provide better dexterity for opening doors and such. At least while he was on land. In truth, being locked into this despised human suit weakened him significantly. His venomous bite and the ability of his species to mutate their tentacles into talons while out of the water were the few things that kept him from being dangerously open to attack. As with all leviathans, his strength resided in his natural form and his preferred domain—the sea. If not for the importance of this mission, he would spend as little time on terra firma as possible.

He grasped the knob and let himself past the door. He made it halfway down the steps before the last two guards at the bottom roused from their slumber. They had little time to do anything more than rub the grogginess from their eyes before Harrison sprang on top of them, crushing their skulls into the adjacent wall as he’d wished to do the other night. He tossed their limp bodies aside and wrenched the metal bar from its housing.

The padded door swung inward with a rusty whine, revealing Reva Bellemuir standing on the other side, impatiently tapping her foot. “Took you long enough.”