Wanton Witchmas Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
“You’re under arrest.”
A high-powered LED flashlight beam blinded her, making it impossible for Payton Hawthorne to see the uniformed officer intent on hauling her to the pokey.
But she recognized the voice. It had haunted her dreams for years.
Dailey Cobb.
Her ex-fiancé and the one that got away.
Or rather, the one she left standing at the altar.
Payton froze in place, unable to speak.
Her best friend and current partner in crime, Rowan Sanderson, had no such problem. “Listen, Officer Knob—”
“Cobb,” he ground out.
“You sure?” Rowan squinted like she believed he was lying. “Because you’re being a total knob—”
“Ro!” Payton cleared her throat. It was time to take back the reins of the situation. “Right. So, I know you probably hear this a lot, but it isn’t what it looks like.”
“You’re right,” he replied. “I hear it a lot.”
He didn’t lower the beam as he approached, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. The unmistakable sound of handcuffs clinking as they cleared their holder was intimidating as hell.
“I’m pretty sure those are the exact words you used when I caught you sneaking out the window on our wedding day,” he said coldly. “Now turn around. You’re under arrest.”
“Lee, please, you don’t understand—”
“I don’t want to, either. And my name is Officer Cobb to you, Hawthorne.”
He moved into the ring of light provided by the overhead street lamp, looking for all the world like an avenging angel as the beam caught and highlighted his close-cropped golden hair.
Payton tamped down the regret.
Dailey Cobb’s handsomeness hadn’t faded in the three years since she initially bolted. If anything, he’d grown hotter. But those steel gray eyes were no longer molten silver when they looked at her. Instead, they were flat, resembling aged concrete in need of a good pressure wash, and except for a burning anger, those once-incredible, sparkling eyes were now dispassionate and bordered on lifeless.
She sensed the simmering rage underneath his cool, collected exterior, and it fucking cut that there was no forgiveness in him. But how much could she expect when she was always in the wrong?
With a worried glance at Rowan, Payton stepped backward and hid her hands behind her.
“You understand that’s resisting arrest, don’t you?” Dailey asked. “That’s going to add more time to your sentence.”
Why did he have to sound so gleeful at adding another charge to her B&E?
“Lee—” His thundercloud expression had her correcting her slip. “Uh, Officer Kno—Cobb! Officer Cobb… I, uh… that is to say, we… we’re not breaking the law. This is all a misunderstanding concerning my sister’s engagement party.” She ended with a sigh and gave him a weak-ass smile. “So there’s really no need to arrest us.”
“Party? To be clear, you’ve been partying tonight?”
“Well, ye—er, no! No, not at all.” But she had, and she was the worst liar on the planet. A fact he knew well.
“You’ll have to take a breathalyzer.”
Rowan ran.
With her long, auburn hair flying behind her like the flag of a retreating troop, she took off for the surrounding woods and never looked back. And damned if Deputy DoRight didn’t let her go. Why not? His main goal was to make Payton’s life a living hell ever since the day she decided to spare him from the misery of marriage to her.
“She always leaves you holding the bag,” he said. “You have terrible taste in friends, Hawthorne.”
“Her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. It’s the wolf thing. Also, being burned as a witch in a previous life makes her skittish around authority figures.”
“Makes sense. Are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”
She shouldn’t have felt the thrill of his words down to her toes, but the low, suggestive way he spoke reminded her of the times they’d spent between the sheets. They’d never had a problem with sex. Their issues had stemmed outside the bedroom.
“It’s Elara and Tripp’s engagement party, Officer Cobb.” Did she see a softening of his expression? She flattened her hand over his uniformed chest. “Will you just overlook this one, er, indiscretion?”
He stared into her beseeching eyes for the longest moment before his gaze dropped to her lips. “What are you proposing?”
Sensing success, she sidled closer. “What do you want?”
A wicked grin curled his mouth, and she experienced another zing. His voice was friendly, almost teasing, when he asked, “Are you offering me a bribe, Payton Hawthorne?”
“I suppose I am,” she replied huskily, caught up in the nostalgia of being close to him again.
He lowered his head as if he were about to kiss her, but at the last second, he shifted, lifted a strand of her dark blonde hair to rub between his fingers, and whispered into the shell of her ear. “I’m adding attempting to bribe an officer to your charges.”
His tone was so deep and sexy that she didn’t at first register what he was saying. Yet the feel of the metal enclosing her wrist snapped her out of the sexual haze he so effortlessly wove.
Damned warlocks!
Payton jerked back, but it was too late. He’d already snapped the cuff in place and secured her opposite wrist within his large, unrelenting grip.
“Please, Lee,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this. Don’t ruin Elara’s night.”
“I’m not ruining her night. You did that by driving under the influence, breaking and entering a business, resisting arrest, and bribing an officer of the law.” His smile was smug, and she wanted to strike him. “Looks like you’ll be spending a lot of time behind bars. That can’t be easy for someone who prefers to run away rather than deal with her problems.”
“What happened with us was more than dealing with a singular problem, and you damned well know it,” she retorted.
“Right. You didn’t want the commitment of marriage to me. The man who once loved you.”
The man who once loved you.
Did she hear an emphasis on the word once? It had been years. She shouldn’t still feel a pang whenever she thought of what they had, of what she’d impetuously thrown away.
“I didn’t want the constant commitment of being ruled by your mother. The mayor of this podunk town,” Payton stressed as if he didn’t already know how much power his mother held.
Although his brows shot up, he appeared unmoved.
“You know that, but whatever.” She lifted her cuffed arms. “Throw the book at me if it makes you feel like a big man.”
“That’s the thing, Payton. I haven’t felt anything since you disappeared again last year. Not one goddamned thing except anger. And you’re going to fix the curse you put on me before you run away this time.”
“Curse?” Dumbfounded, she gaped. What the hell was he talking about? “What curse?”
Dailey didn’t believe Payton’s innocent act regarding the curse for one split second. Last year, she’d stood in that blasted alley, holding her sister’s hand, as the magic engulfed him and stole essential emotions from his person. From his peripheral vision, he’d registered Tripp Nightshade’s shock and horror as the demigod witnessed their power combined, though he’d tried to hide it.
The demigod’s fear resulted from a silly legend surrounding a pair of ridiculous purple boots Elara was wearing. Dailey wasn’t positive the blame could be laid on the “fatal footwear,” as Tripp had referred to those shoes, or whether the women unknowingly unleashed their own brand of hell on him, but he wanted whatever witchcraft they’d unleashed neutralized.
Immediately.
“Look, I get you’re the queen of playing people and excel at games, but I’m over you and all of this.” Her mouth dropped open, and the wounded expression she affected left him cold. “I’ll drop the charges and release you if you reverse the evil mojo.”
“Lee—”
He scowled at her wheedling tone and crossed his arms.
“Uh, I mean, Officer Cobb,”—she cleared her throat—“I’m honestly clueless about your supposed curse.”
Fury was one of the few remaining emotions he felt, and though he should be grateful to feel anything at all, it annoyed him to have anger overrule his peace or happiness. Not that he’d experienced anything resembling glitter and roses after she’d left him standing at the altar—with his proverbial dick in hand—as she Houdini’d it out of a bedroom window.
The outrage building inside him cemented his half-baked decision to abduct her. Wordlessly, he led her to his Tahoe, opened the back door, and placed a hand atop her blonde head, guiding her into the bench seat.
“Payton Hawthorne, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—not that you will—”
“Fuck off! This is spiteful and childish, even for you!” Her reddening face scrunched as if she fought against shedding the welling tears in her wide aquamarine eyes.
The sight should’ve moved him—actually would’ve once—but the black hole of nothingness inside ate whatever emotional response he might’ve had.
“Spiteful? Childish?” He snorted and rested his elbow on the roof. “Childish is running away from the man you supposedly love without bothering to have an adult conversation and fix what you perceive to be wrong. Childish is leaving him to face a congregation of friends and family to tell them his bride didn’t care enough to stick. And cursing a man to feel nothing for you or anyone else for an entire year?” He leaned in. “That, my darling Payton, is spiteful. This”—he gestured between them—“yeah, it may be a little payback, but it’s not like I can take enjoyment from it.”
“Then what is it? Why not ‘have an adult conversation and fix what you perceive to be wrong?’” she sneered.
“Good question,” he muttered. One for which he didn’t have an answer. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”
“Fucking asshole!” she shouted, kicking at him.
“Assaulting an officer is illegal, too,” he reminded her as he skillfully dodged her heel. “You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
Fury had replaced her initial shock and upset. Her lips were compressed so tightly they were colorless and outlined in white. If she weren’t a witch with healing abilities, he might consider her blood pressure and the potential for a stroke.
“Do you understand these rights as I’ve said them to you?” he asked.
Chin lifted high, Payton gave one short nod before averting her face in dismissal. Damned if she didn’t appear heartbreakingly fragile.
Tingling started in his chest as if he were sparking back to life. It fizzled as if someone had flipped on a light, only to turn it off mid-flip of the switch. Frowning, he closed the door and went to retrieve her personal items. After locking up her car, he cast a quick location charm and scanned the woods beyond the road. Dailey immediately spotted a heat signature behind a tree about fifty yards out.
“You’ve not seen anything, Rowan Sanderson, or I’ll haul your ass in for the B&E, too, got it?” he called.
Her growled “fuck off” echoed through the trees.
Once, he’d have laughed at her cheeky response, but not tonight.
“Remember what I said and who runs this town.”
She stepped from her hiding spot, hands on hips. “Did you ever consider that arrogant attitude is why she left you, you fucking tool?”
He had.
Many times.
But only because Elara had been forthcoming with why Payton had run away: his dismissal of her fears concerning his mother’s managing ways. Yet, how was one supposed to completely alienate their family or overhaul their personality?
He’d made allowance after allowance for his fiancée’s wild side, and initially, he’d been worried a small part of him felt relief when she left despite his crushing pain. But as time went on, his hurt grew. There were plenty of opportunities for her to tell him she was experiencing second thoughts. Waiting until their wedding day? Yeah, that was just fucking cold.
Ignoring Rowan, he turned on his heel and stalked back to his cruiser. He swore under his breath when he spotted the handcuffs dangling from the door handle and the empty backseat. For the briefest moment, he’d forgotten she possessed an uncanny ability to slip her bindings. It was definitely something he should’ve remembered, considering how they’d liked to kink things up in the bedroom.
The tingling started again, and he surprised himself when he laughed.
“Game on, Hawthorne!” he called out, knowing damned well she’d hear him. “Game on.”
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