Acting Witchy (Witch Hunters) (2 page)

She splashed water on her heated face while the tub filled. Her cheeks were flushed and her full pink lips trembled. Dark chocolate eyes stared back at her from an otherwise pale face. She had inherited her skin tone from her Irish father and near obsidian eyes and high cheek bones from her African American mother. Somewhere in her mother’s not too distant past was a Native America
n relative.
She’d bound her long jet curls in a braid that trailed between her shoulder blades.

“
Damn you, Se
an Savage,”
she whispered to her distraught reflection. It never occurred to her for a moment that he wasn’t behind this. He might not be aware of what he was doing, but he was doing it just the same.

The nightmares had plagued her for the last six months
. They weren’t all the same, but in each dream she was roughly fucked by none other than Sean Savage. What was worse, she couldn’t wake herself until the ravishment was complete. She’d never had dreams like that before. She’d always been able to wake herself. It was almost as though she were drugged.
The nocturnal visions were so vivid that
initially she really thought she was being fucked.

In those first days of the dreams, she’d had a boyfriend. When Derek had been wakened by her moans, he’d tried unsuccessfully to wake her from the nightmare. She’d been too embarrassed and too ashamed to tell him that she’d been having erotic dreams about another man. It felt too much like cheating, though
she couldn’t control the visions
. The nightmares had eventually driven a wedge between them. She’d stopped spending nights with Derek, not wanting to have to explain the sleep orgasms that were stronger than any he was capable of giving her. Within a few weeks, she’d seen Derek out on a romantic date with another woman. She’d been having a business dinner with Marielle and her husband and spied her boyfriend having a candlelit dinner in the corner with an up and coming blues singer. When their eyes met across the room, he’d
appeared
stunned. He half rose from his seat before sitting again.

She liked to think that she handled the situation better than Derek. She’d sent him and his date a bottle of wine. She hadn’t heard from him since. But she supposed no explanation was really needed.

She slipped into the tub of cool water with a hiss. She’d been on a few meaningless dates since the breakup, but she had only agreed to the outings so that people didn’t think she was pining away for Derek. Marielle had arranged most of them.
The dates had gone nowhere but they had proved to be good publicity.

Tonight’s dream was brought on by t
he confrontation this afternoon in the restaurant
.
In her nightmare, they had been in a club. Sean was dancing with Angel. And then he spotted her sitting alone at a table nursing a glass of wine. He crossed to her, leaving a pouting girlfriend behind. He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. The song was slow. Her dress was a slinky silver number that clung to her body and clearly displayed her beaded nipples. She wasn’t wearing undergarments of any kind. Sean pulled her to him and pressed his thigh between hers so that she practically rode him. His hands cupped her bottom, encouraging her to rub herself against his thick erection. This wasn’t dancing. It was foreplay. The tension built swiftly between them. The song hadn’t ended before he maneuvered her to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. The restroom was empty but the door didn’t have a lock. He led her to one of the stalls and spun her around. The sound of his zipper being lowered echoed off the cinder block walls. He entered her in one powerful thrust.

Mystique
covered her face with her shaking hands.
She pressed chilled fingers to her flushed cheeks, willing the steamy images to subside.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t go on like this much longer. She was losing sleep.

Confronting him would only make it worse. If he was unaware of what he was doing, it was so much better than if he actually knew of the power he wielded over her.

She could ask her mother or her grandmother for advice, but she
was reluctant to do so. Their
solutions were always final and not in the least bit subtle.

Chapter Two

Lack of subtlety was apparently a trait that Sean shared with her relatives, Mystique thought as she turned off her television. She’d been enjoying her morning cup of coffee
, doctored with
vanilla and topped with whipped cream
,
when she decided to
watch the morning news.
Sean was being interviewed about his last movie, a sci-fi action affair that she’d secretly wanted to see.
The trailers for it had been mind-blowing. The special effects and the action sequences were awesome. Even better, early reviews raved about the savvy plot. Sean had sent
her the scri
pt a year ago. It went into her trash pile
unopened. When asked what he was doing next, Sean’s answer made her hands shake so badly, she had to put down her coffee.

He
turned to the camera and gave
his trademark sexy grin. “I’m putting filming and acting on hold for a special campaign. I am going to concentrate all my energies on getting Mystique Gray to do a movie with me.”

The reporter, Matthew Spaulding, the same little weasel who had interviewed her the day before, seemed stunned but inordinately pleased with this scoop. “Perhaps you saw our segment with Miss Gray yesterday? She denies any feud. Are you suggesting otherwise?”

“Oh, there’s no feud, but I’ve yet to properly entice Miss Gray to work with me. I’ve been remiss in my seduction of her, but believe me I intend to give her my full attention from now on.”

“Bastard,” she muttered. If only silencing him in real life were as simple as turning off her television. Her breath came out in angry little pants. Even if her phone had not played the signature ringtone of Appalachian Spring, Mystique would have known it was Marielle on the other end of the line. “Yes, Marielle, I saw it,” she said upon answering.

“And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Nothing. He can’t be serious. This will be old news in a week or two.”

Marielle’s sigh was loud in her ear. “I certainly hope so. Any idea why he’s chosen to focus on you?”

A possible answer came to mind, but it wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on. It would explain her dreams and Sean’s fixation on her, but the idea of it terrified her. Sure her life wasn’t perfect. She was lonely much of the time, but this was the existence she had to live with. It was better than the alternative. “No. There is no reason,” she said in response to Marielle’
s question. “I’m sure
he’ll grow bored with this nonsense.”

****

  “You’re pure evil,”
Keith said with a grin
and a shake of his head
. He folded the newspaper ad
and
dropped it on the coffee table. Sean’s smiling face stared up at them from the ad he’d placed imploring his and Mystique’s fans to write to her to reconsider working with him. It was his hope that she’d be flooded with requests.

“I know,”
Sean returned with a smile of his own. “I placed this in five magazines and seven papers.”

“
Why
are you torturing the girl so?”

“
At first, it was accidental. When I said that I wanted to work with her, I truly meant it. I had no ulterior motives. When it became obvious that she was avoiding me, the media picked up on it. Then I met
her.”
Sean’s eyes met those of his brother. Their eyes were the same remarkable shade of bright blue.
“
She was terrified of me. It piqued my curiosity. And I admit I’m perversely turned on by a wom
an who doesn’t fall at my feet.”

His brother stiffened. “Terrified? You don’t think she knows—”

“Of course not,” he interrupted before his brother could go off on one of his paranoid lectures about how he should be more careful.
Keith was visiting him for a week. Sean would rather not rehash the old argument with his brother about how he wasn’t dedicated to their craft.
“How could she? Look, maybe terrified was the wrong word. She could have been startled. After all, we did meet in the ladies’ bathroom.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know why.” He ran his hand through his thick curls. “Listen, don’t you have enough women?”

“Yeah, but they’re not this one.” Mystique was as beautiful in person as she was on film.
There was a small mole to the left of her mouth that he longed to kiss right before he possessed her lush lips.
Her smooth skin held a healthy sheen that reminded him strangely of butter. Mm, butter. No wonder he wanted to lick her from head to toe. He loved butter.

She was as mysterious and captivating as her name.
He wondered if it was the one she was born with or if she had changed it like so many in their profession.
Prior to the restaurant incident, he’d been certain that when they met, she’d be eager to work with him. Instead, their unplanned collision had left him with more questions than answers.
Lately, she was all he could think about. He hadn’t had a serious relationship in six months. There had been a few flings and a one night stand or two but no one to distract him from Mystique. He wanted to work with her. Hell, he admitted to himself, he just plain wanted her.

“She seems like a nice girl, Sean.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means she’s not one of your usual actresses or models who are with you to be seen with you. She’s not interested in dating you to advance her career. She’ll care when you stop calling or move on to your next movie. She’ll get hurt.”

He knew that. And it had given him pause. But Mystique was quickly becoming an obsession with him. She filled his dreams at night. The dreams were erotic and so detailed that he often woke to find his belly wet with his semen. Yet his cock remained as hard as steel, eager to be buried in Mystique’s pussy. His affairs had become less and less satisfactory. They were no longer worth the effort. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his leather sofa. “I’ll be careful.”

Chapter Three

Three Weeks Later …

Mystique hadn’t been lying when she said she wasn’t seeking projects at the moment. The last three weeks she’d been immersed in the role of a mermaid in an out to sea romantic comedy. All of her scenes were shot on location in Australia, the director’s homeland. Though she was portraying an ocean creature, all of her work had been done indoors on a set where they’d recreated the water and waves.

Marielle had arranged for a limo to meet her at the airport. She couldn’t wait to get back home and put her feet up for a few days’ rest. After that, she was off to do a guest appearance on a cable TV show for a friend. She arrived at her Beverly Hills condo and was stunned to find three large bags of fan mail next to her door. Marielle had called her and told her that there had been an uptick in her mail as the result of some ads Sean had run.
He’d also started a website featuring a petition.
His campaign was
unrelenting
despite the lack of response from her.

She sighed and dragged the
m
ail
into her foyer along with her luggage. There was a note pinned to the side of one of the bags. She reco
gnized Marielle’s neat script.
“This is three days’ worth,” she read. Her eyes widened. The bags came up to her waist. “This is ridiculous!” Time on location had given her a much needed reprieve from speculation of the public. The set had been closed to all press and she wasn’t one to read gossip magazines or watch entertainment shows. What the hell had Sean done to incite this type of activity in her fans? She was almost afraid to read the letters.

She hadn’t started acting to become famous. It was what she enjoyed and she was good at it. Celebrity was a byproduct as far as she was concerned. It had its perks, but she wasn’t so well known that it had ever been a burden for her. Having Marielle as her agent and manager was only possible because of her friendship with the older woman. She trusted her. She had an uncanny knack for identifying trustworthy individuals. Having one person serve two capacities helped her feel more normal. She didn’t have, nor did she desire, an entourage. She’d hired an accountant at Marielle’s insistence. Coming home to find the lights out once was enough to convince her that her friend was right in that regard. Recently, Marielle had been urging her to hire a personal assistant, but she didn’t see the need.

Until now. It’d be nice to have someone to help sort this mail. She liked to occasionally send replies, but there was no way she was going to be able do it with this much correspondence.

She stifled a yawn and decided to put it off until tomorrow. She’d take a shower and go to bed. In the morning after she’d had an espresso, it wouldn’t seem so bad.

****

It was bad. Very bad. She had a few fans that were supportive of her not working with Sean. But she also received letters and postcards from Sean’s fans who threatened to boycott her films if she didn’t star opposite him. She didn’t read all of the mail. She didn’t have to. After about the hundredth or so missive, she got the message.

Sean had achieved his goal. He might be known as the playboy, but if this continued much longer, she would be known as a judgmental bitch. A moniker sure to kill her burgeoning career.

She didn’t like being backed into a corner this way. “Damn, Sean Savage,” she muttered even as she picked up the phone to call Marielle. She’d give her agent permission to accept scripts from Sean again. She didn’t have any. All of hers had gone straight into the trash.