The Last Witch Hunter (Witch Hunters)

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014
Thayer King

ISBN:
978-1-77130-736-9

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my sister Rosa who told me bedtime stories, awakening my love for a good fairy tale.

Witch Hunters, 3

Thayer King

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Nikita Gray opened her door and wasn’t entirely surprised to find Ronan McKinley on her porch. The man was a freaking giant. She was below average height at 5’3,” but Ronan had her by more than a few inches. Nikita estimated him to be around 6’5.” Yet it wasn’t his height that unnerved her. She was used to her diminutive stature and had the skills to compensate for any size discrepancies if or when the time came to get physical.

No, it wasn’t the height difference that set her on edge. It was the way he watched her. His eyes tracked her every move. His gaze was hot and hungry as though he’d eat her whole
and savor her like ice cream on a hot summer day if only given the opportunity.

She knew she was attractive.
All the women in her family were beautiful. Even at almost ninety, her grandmother Mama Skye could have her pick of the widowers that attended her church if she were ever so inclined to marry again. It was from Mama Skye that she had inherited her large cat-shaped eyes and a full bow-shaped mouth that made a man think of sex. Her wild mane of curls gave the impression of unrestrained passion. At least, that’s what she’d been told by more than one man. Truth was, Nikita was all about restraint and logistics. Passion led to poor decision making. In her line of work, mistakes could lead to death…or worse.

Beauty aside
, Ronan had no reason to devour her with his eyes each time they crossed paths. Not the way she was dressed. Nondescript and sexless described the part of her wardrobe Ronan had seen as of yet. None of her favorite fitted black sexy gear. She wore baggy faded sweat pants, large t-shirts that hung off her shoulders and didn’t touch her breasts, and sensible beat up sneakers. She’d even tamed her natural curls with a flat iron and pulled them into an uninspired ponytail.

Currently, she wore a white tank top with no bra and gray cotton shorts. Her hair was in a fat braid over her shoulder. Ronan’s lips kicked up in a smile as he took in her figure. His
blue-green gaze lingered on her bosom long enough for her nipples to perk up at the unwanted attention. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow. That was another thing. Something about him made
her
think of sex, of hot nights with his big hands holding her ass while she rode him like a pony. “Mr. McKinley,” she said stiffly.

“Ronan,” he corrected.
He towered over her, his dark red hair backlit by the morning sun. His broad chest was covered in a forest green and black plaid shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves up so that his muscular forearms were on display. “Mrs. Williams asked me to inspect her kitchen floor. She wants an estimate to put down a new one.”

She noticed the tool box in his hand but didn’t budge. His story was highly suspect. Why would Mrs. Williams give him a reason to come into her home?
They had been playing this game of cat and mouse for a week. He’d come over to welcome her to the neighborhood on her first day and offered to help her with her bags. She’d had only a couple of suitcases and a few boxes. She’d declined. The second day he’d brought her cupcakes as a welcome gift. She’d explained she was only housesitting while Mrs. Williams was away but had accepted one of the sweets and then sent him away. Not that she’d eaten it. It remained untouched on a shelf in the fridge. The next day he’d offered to help her bring in her groceries. She’d thanked him but informed him that she had it well in hand. With each of her refusals, he’d smile and shrug it off. And then try again. He was tenacious. She’d give him that.

This was his best attempt at an invite yet. The linoleum in the kitchen was worn and beginning to peel. “I think you should wait until Mrs. Williams returns. She may have changed her mind.”

“I’m between jobs right now. I don’t know how long it will be before I get the chance to come by again.”

“Really? You seem to manage to drop by for one reason or another every day.”

His smile widened, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam as they swept her figure. “I’m being neighborly. I know you don’t know the neighborhood. I wouldn’t want a friend of Mrs. Williams to feel unwelcome.”

She barely managed to contain a snort. Mrs. Williams considered him a nuisance. “Be that as it may, I’d rather you wait to give the estimate.”

He ran his hand over the lower half of his face, the hair there creating a rasping noise as his thick fingers passed over it. The shadowy growth of his beard was a lighter shade than the hair on his head. He had the darkest red hair of anyone she’d ever seen. His skin was a rich tan color proving that not all red heads burned in the sun. “It may be some time before I can schedule another appointment for Mrs. Williams.”

Nikita shrugged. “Guess she’ll have to call another carpenter.”

“There aren’t a lot of us around these parts, Nikita.”

She stiffened. She should have never given him her name. Hearing it roll off his tongue with that deep voice of his affected her more than she’d like.
“Then she’ll be calling you.” She moved to close the door.

His big hand halted the progress of the swinging wood. “Just a sec.
There was a second reason I came over. I wanted to ask you to dinner.”

This was new. It was uno
rthodox perhaps but given his fascination with her, this might be her best chance. She usually liked to study subjects of an investigation without their notice. But she’d never fly under Ronan’s radar. Since the first day she’d moved in, he’d been watching her with interest. It was making this assignment next to impossible.

“That sounds like fun. When should I be ready?”

He blinked, thick strawberry blonde lashes covering his beautiful marine irises for several seconds. “Uh, tomorrow night at seven sound good?”

She smiled. “Sounds perfect. See you then.” She closed the door in his stunned face.

***

What
had just happened? Ronan scratched his chin and made his way down the porch of Mrs. Williams’s big old southern house. He glanced back over his shoulder as he crossed to his own yard. Lace curtains covered the windows. If Nikita was watching him, he couldn’t tell.

He was surprised that she’d agreed to his dinner invite.
She had spurned every overture of friendship that he’d extended. He mulled over her acceptance but could read no ulterior motives in her words.

He dropped his tool box by the door. Mrs. Williams had asked him to look at her floor a year ago but he’d been too busy to do it. He probably never would have recalled her request if he hadn’t been so desperate to spend time with her house sitter.

The moment he’d caught sight of Nikita’s beautiful face, he’d been captivated. He’d seen what he thought was a teenager lugging heavy luggage from the trunk of a car and he’d naturally gone over to help. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman after all. The second she had glared up at him with those sexy eyes, he’d recognized his mistake. Her butterscotch skin had been covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She’d pressed her full lips together in irritation but not before he’d developed a fantasy of them forming an “O” as he buried himself inside her tight little pussy. His cock had thickened alarmingly, threatening to burst out of his jeans.

She wasn’t the sort that usually attracted him. His t
ype had always been tall leggy types. He was a big guy. It just made sense for him to go for tall women. Nikita was so small and delicate he knew he’d have to be careful when he made love to her. Her clothing had hidden her curves well. Today was the first glimpse he’d had of her killer figure. She was deceptively shapely. The tank top she wore had molded itself to her firm pear shaped breasts that were unfettered by a bra. He’d wanted to drop to his knees and suckle her. Her shirt would have grown wet from his mouth, making her dark chocolate nipples visible. Her waist was tiny but her hips were well rounded. She hadn’t turned around so he didn’t know how cushy her behind was. But that was fine. He could make due with her hips if he had to. He would grip on to them as he pulled her down onto his cock until he’d embedded every inch.

Ronan groaned
at the imagery and pressed a hand to his aching erection. Needing to redirect his thoughts, he turned on his television to the morning news before moving into the kitchen. He’d skipped breakfast in hopes that Nikita would offer to share hers. He made bacon, eggs, toast and coffee.  Settling down to eat, he could hear the newscasters discussing a missing person in the area. He put down his coffee cup to go and stand in front of the television, a seventy-two inch flat screened beauty that he’d fallen in love with on sight. Gray’s Landing, a small town in northeastern North Carolina, rarely made the news, even the local news. It was a town of only three thousand citizens. They didn’t even have a McDonald’s in the city limits. Ronan didn’t recognize the missing woman, a New Yorker in the area to visit family. Local police were already searching the Roanoke River. Ronan shook his head. That was a bad sign.