Witch's Hunger
THE DANGER IN THEIR DESIRE As a Triad witch, Vivienne François knows better than to let Nikoli Hyland get too close. Her family's ancient curse means Viv can never be with the sexy human warrior. If she succumbs to the forbidden desires, she risks losing everything and putting all humanity in danger. Still, Nikoli affects her like no other…Nikoli swore an oath to protect the world from the Cartesians, interdimensional beasts bent on destruction. He needs Viv's help to defeat them, but the feisty beauty makes focusing on the mission difficult. Viv and Nikoli know how to fight evil; it's battling their hearts that could be their undoing.
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THE DANGER IN THEIR DESIRE
As a Triad witch, Vivienne François knows better than to let Nikoli Hyland get too close. Her familyâs ancient curse means Viv can never be with the sexy human warrior. If she succumbs to her forbidden desires, she risks losing everything and putting all humanity in danger. Still, Nikoli affects her like no other...
Nikoli swore an oath to protect the world from the Cartesians, interdimensional beasts bent on destruction. He needs Vivâs help to defeat them, but the feisty beautyâs company makes focusing on the mission difficult. Viv and Nikoli know how to fight evil; itâs battling their hearts that could be their undoing.
âIâll get the bloodstones,â Viv said. âHow many do you think weâll need?â
âTwelve should do it.â
âIâll bring sixteen. Always better to have more than not enough, right?â
Nikoli gave her a sultry look. âItâs always better to have more.â
Viv cleared her throat and rummaged through the bloodstones, but she felt her breathing quicken. There was no ignoring Nikoliâs scentâa mixture of leather, musk and fresh, rain-kissed air. No one had ever affected her this way. Viv narrowed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the bloodstones.
âI think weâre good,â she said, chancing a look at Nikoliâs face. Big mistake. When sheâd turned to him, they were but a breath apart.
Both of them froze, eyes locked, and in that moment the rest of Vivâs world disappeared. All that existed was the scent of him, the brawn of him. The only thing either of them had to do was move a fraction of an inch and...
Award-winning and bestselling author DEBORAH LEBLANC is a business owner, a licensed death-scene investigator and an active member of two national paranormal investigation teams. Sheâs the president of the Horror Writers Association, Mystery Writers of Americaâs Southwest chapter and the Writersâ Guild of Acadiana. Deborah is also the creator of the LeBlanc Literacy Challenge, an annual national campaign designed to encourage more people to read, and Literacy, Inc., a nonprofit organization with a mission to fight illiteracy in Americaâs teens. For more information go to www.deborahleblanc.com and www.literacyinc.com.
For Pookie and Sarah.
Itâs been a long, hard road without you...
Contents
The triplets had known trouble since birth.
Near the north wall of a vast cavern southeast of Marseilles stood a wide stone table. Behind the table sat the Council of Elders for the Circle of SistersâMagda, head of the council, Bayonne and Palmae.
Magda, shaking with fury, glared at the three young women standing before them. Esmee, the eldest of the triplets and most outspoken, and her sisters, Lisette and Julianne François. The girlsâ shadows danced across the stone walls from the multitude of candles that illuminated the dank cave.
They were forced to wear sackcloth and walk the many miles to the meeting area. They stood dirty, sweating and trembling with fear at what they were about to face. They were identical in appearance save for their eyes. Each held a unique color. Esmeeâs were brilliant blue, Lisetteâs a shiny copper and Julianneâs blacker than any shade of night.
All three pairs of eyes were now downcast, the girlsâ heads bowed in sorrow and submission. Coal-black hair fell across alabaster skin. The cave smelled of their sweat, burning candles and the earthy scent of the dirt beneath their feet.
Magda, as head of the council, held the staff of judgment so tightly in her right hand her knuckles had turned white. Her fury was undeniable. The staff of judgment was eight inches long, made of thick, polished Elder-wood and topped with a bloodstone the size of a small womanâs fist. The staff was the ballast used only in severe cases, of which this was definitely one.
Being responsible for an entire clan of witches spread throughout France, especially in the fifteenth century, was no small feat. She held fast to being firm and fair, and unwavering from protocol. Despite her anger, looking at the triplets made her heart ache and cluttered her thoughts.
This wasnât the first time the sisters had stood before the council. Mostly for misdemeanors on other occasions. Their youth accounted for the majority of the dismissals of those cases.
Magda knew the council granted special favors to the triplets out of pity. Years ago, their parents had left a theater late one evening when a band of thieves shot out from a dark alley and murdered both of them. The triplets had only been two years old at the time, and by vote, the Council of Elders decided that Bayonne would take responsibility for them. Theyâd had no other choice. It was part of their culture. Neither adoption nor abandonment existed in their code of ethics. The Circle of Sisters took care of their own.
