Witch’s Concubine

Witch’s Concubine

Cara Carnes

Nothing stands between a cursed witch and her quarry.

Macy Davenport has two weeks to purge the familial curse or she’ll suffer a sex-starved eternity. Finding a vampire strong enough to handle her rare dragon witch powers isn’t easy. But Doctor Death comes with a very high price and a string of complications.

Prince Dmitri Siysky, aka Doctor Death, doesn’t have time for the fiery dragon witch, even if her carnal dilemma offers interesting compensation. There’s an underground slave ring selling vampires and he’s been sent the witches responsible.

He expected trouble, but he never anticipated Macy.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

WITCH’S CONCUBINE

Wicked Series

Copyright © 2015 CARA CARNES

ISBN: 978-1-943576-27-2

All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684
www.allromanceebooks.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: October 2015

“This is crazy, even for you.”

Macy Davenport merged into the left lane, her right palm pressed hard on the horn and her foot on the accelerator. People didn’t have respect for fast lanes anymore.

“Sarah, this is the perfect solution to my problem.”

“Honey, not him.” Sarah’s voice fell into a hushed whisper, as if the world would hear her speak his name from the darkened interior of Macy’s Ford Festiva. “Doctor Death isn’t for you.”

“He has a name.” A shiver skittered down Macy’s spine. “I seriously doubt Dmitri Siysky appreciates that one.”

“That vampire deserves to burn. Did you hear what he did to poor Hilda?”

“Hilda the Hag?” Macy shook her head. “Look, that vampire has slept with half of Seattle, and the only reason he’s in Imperial custody right now is because he refused to sleep with the other half—most of whom are in command. Everyone with half a spell in them knows his only crime is not playing the political game. Or, in his case, screwing Hilda.”

“So you’d take her on to break him out?”

“I’d dare her to take
me
on. Two more days of these powers simmering in me and I swear I’ll take out half of Seattle.” She shuddered. “Starting with Hilda the Hag’s den.”

Soap box stored for a later time, Macy dodged a white minivan and careened around a corner. Ten minutes before Imperial Station closed for the weekend. No way in hell was she suffering another night of debilitating arousal.

“I’m fresh out of luck spells, Macy, and I have yet to find one for fixing bad driving. Please slow down.” Sarah gritted her teeth. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Macy guffawed. Oh, he’d be going somewhere eventually. Every horny, cursed witch this side of the Mississippi had probably heard about the legendary Doctor Death being incarcerated. The charges were as trumped up as the wretched hex spurring Macy into desperation.

“Look, I’m twenty nine for two more weeks. If I don’t purge the hex before the big three-zero strikes you might as well tie a bib around my neck and toss me in Witches Haven.”

“Do not speak of that place,” Sarah gasped. “I would never, ever put you there. Only the most cursed witches are sent to that…that…that travesty.”

Silence remained for a moment as the notion of Witches Haven brewed between them. They both knew the gut wrenching truth—Macy had to screw or she was screwed.

“Look, it’s like this. I literally have nothing at all to lose at this point. The only way to purge the hex is to…” Macy turned her head and slammed on her brakes when the light blazed red. Damn. One more minute lost. “You know what I need.”

“Yeah.” Sarah sighed. “I still don’t understand why this is your hex to carry.”

“It’s the curse of ten thousand nights. My mom only suffered a thousand of them before she…” Okay, she wouldn’t dredge the river of trouble tonight. “Until the hex is gone I can’t marry, I can’t have kids. I can’t even let a male witch or mortal touch me. I’m left with the trolls who gifted me with the rotten problem because my mom wouldn’t marry their king, the faeries who I loathe because they are as trustworthy as pond scum, and the vampires.”

And Dmitri was one hell of a vampire.

“So you’re going to march in there and demand he bed you?”

“Geez, Sarah.” Macy wheeled into the Imperial Station’s parking lot and threw her car into park. “You make me sound crass. I’d take him to my place first.”

“Pfft. Whatever.”

Macy glowered at her longtime friend and grabbed her purse. “Stay here if you want, but I’ve got myself a vampire to indenture.”

Talking a confident game was one thing. Following through was an entirely different ballgame Macy wasn’t sure she had the equipment to play. Hell, had she even found the right ballpark?

Her knees knocked together, clattering with the knock of her kitten heels as she made her way up the zillion stairs. The first guard to slow her down before she got to her quarry was toast, or rather, an oversized toad. She didn’t have time for anything beyond level one magic. Not when her entire future was at stake.

Literally.

Hexes were common amongst the royal witches; the only way to damage an otherwise indestructible person. But there was always a loophole, some way to massage your way out of the mess.

The cool breeze flowing from the air-conditioned interior pebbled her nipples into hardened buds. She refused to think it could be the possibility unfolding before her. She’d wasted away for years until she swore her entire body was going to become a husk and certain body parts would fall off entirely. The magic buildups were the worst. To think, humans thought they had it bad with hormone swings.

Try being a cursed witch forced into a state of sexual hunger so fierce her entire body became a powder keg charged with dynamite and ready to implode at the slightest provocation. And oh yeah, if you have sex with a mortal man or a warlock to release the backdraft of power, they’d die. Body bags put a real damper on a first date.

She charged past the first station of guards, noting their widened eyes and quickly averted stares. Okay, she was a little pissed and the crimson crystal around her neck was a little bright. The fact they’d probably never seen one up close and personal barely noodled within her jumbled laundry list of things to do.

She always had a crud load of lists running in her head. She couldn’t afford another item on any of them right now. Not until she crossed a few things off first. First thing, secure the vampire.

A beefy man with a small head and supersized belly flopped into her path, his mustache-obscured lips moved with unheard words. She didn’t have time for stupidity. Magic glistened within her veins. She was too aware of the feral target caged somewhere within the darkened catacombs beneath Imperial Station.

She took the stairs three at a time, allowing her power to drift her down the last rung. Sarah would catch up eventually, assuming she made it past the first guard station. Water witches were common enough for the human guards to feel brave with their electric guns and rubber bullets.

Residual magic hung in arid air thickened with animosity and rage. Flames illuminating the rock and skull corridors spread outward, as if yearning for a taste of the ancient dragon power within her veins.

Moans echoed, but none merited her attention. She continued deeper into the maze until the toxic stench of black magic saturated her lungs. Two fledgling warlocks stood guard beside the last cell. Sneers spread on their faces as their hungered gazes roved her body. Lust and violence loomed in their auras.

“Leave us,” Macy ordered. “That is the only warning I will give you.”

The pig-snouted guard grabbed his crotch and grinned. “Here’s how it’s gonna be, witch. You want to see Doctor Death you come over here and pay homage to Monty’s Monster.”

“How refreshingly original.” Macy almost felt sorry for the miserable pig. Almost.

The stench of urine and feces from unkempt cells darkened her patience into thin lines of barely contained power.

“I’m sure your mistress would understand you leaving. You can’t serve her if you’re dead.”

The men laughed at her daring and fumbled with their zippers. “Come over here and get on your knees, witch whore. Don’t make us mad.”

Macy summoned the flames drifting from the wall behind the men. They licked at their hair with disinterest. She pressed them downward, beyond their waist and channeled the heat into the crotches they were so determined needed attention.

The men yelped and dodged the fiery children of her creation currently waging war with their clothing. Their feet moved in time to their screams, but Macy remained where she was.

“Last chance, fledglings. Leave us. Now.”

The two men raced past her, yelping as the fires gave chase. Macy allowed her thundering heart to slow. Her heated blood burned within her veins. Sandalwood, musk and butterscotch.

The latter scent drew her curiosity closer, until her gaze took in the cell’s interior. A small cot, minus the mattress, hugged one rat infested corner. Chains hung from the stone ceiling, their intent clear.

The man within the shackles snarled his wrath. “Dragon witch, come closer. I haven’t killed one of your kind in at least a century.”

“No doubt it’s been longer.” She pried the cell open with her telekinetic energy, but remained several feet from the predator within. Though chained in silver, Dmitri Siysky was anything but defenseless.

Power flowed from him, mottled with uncontained, murderous disdain.

“I see you’ve received Hilda’s VIP treatment.”

His lips curved into a luscious grin meant to devour the kind-hearted and disrobe anyone with a pulse. Wicked grey eyes danced with amusement. “I thought I’d receive no company, yet here you are. Witch number seven for the day. Tell me, dragon witch, will you bother to remove my pants or will you simply try to impale my cock as I am now?”

A sliver of guilt slithered into her as she allowed her startled thoughts to process him. His massive form engulfed the room, his aura exuding confidence and unbridled lust when he regarded her. Corded muscle bulged from his arms and ceded to ribbons of sinewy flesh spreading across his powerful chest and down into unbuttoned pants. A thick, hard cock jutted proudly.

Dmitri remained silent under her perusal. She took a step forward and noted the tense stance in his thick thighs. Large, defenseless fingers knotted into fists, a strong jaw twitched with unspoken threats.

“I see you’ve had visitors.”

“They tried to take what they seek,” he rasped.

She swallowed the hunger rising within her, forcing the fiery depths of need back with a measured step toward him. “Their curiosity was to be expected. It isn’t everyday Doctor Death is encased in silver within the witch’s Imperial Station.” She circled behind him, noted the tight, firm ass and rippling, muscled back. “Surely you realized what violating an agreement would warrant.”

“There was no agreement,” he growled.

“Hilda seems to think otherwise. Word from The Imperial Council is that the terms of your service were rather extensive, both in duty and duration.” A shiver traveled along her tingling skin as she circled back to his front and met his intense gaze. His heated skin beckoned her dragon powers. So much heat. She swallowed. “It seems your prowess has no bounds.”

“My wrists would beg to differ.” He tugged on the chains and shoved his massive body into her aura. “Tell me your intent, witch. I tire of the games.”

“I offer you freedom.”

He tossed his head back and allowed his laugh to echo through the dank chamber. Raven black hair tumbled, the tips grazing his wide shoulders. “A witch offering freedom? That would be like my kind giving away blood.”

Dmitri had no doubt been down this road more times than she’d imagine. Vampires worked off simplistic barter systems without hidden context or underlying motivations—the only reasons she’d even considered this as a viable solution to her problem.

“I’ll offer you a blood oath.” Purging her powers would be even simpler if she had a vampire sucking them out of her willingly. The offer was a win-win.

His grey gaze darkened. Flecks of gold mingled in the shadowed depths. “No witch would offer her blood to my kind.”

“I will have the contract drawn up and witnessed tonight, before the full moon strikes. I demand three months of service in exchange. Upon completion of your contract, you will be released.”

“And brought right back here to serve my time again.”

“No.” She stepped back and took a deep breath, forcing her labored breathing to give way to lungs of clean, vampire-free air. His aura struck hers, forcing her need to intense levels she couldn’t contain. “My contract would, by Imperial law, sever Hilda’s right to demand your punishment.”