To Catch a Witch [Spells of Seduction 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

Spells of Seduction 2

To Catch a Witch

All Velona Poe wants is redemption. But after she tells the man she loves who she really is, she finds herself about to be beheaded. Just before the axe falls, she's teleported to a tower. She fears her enemy Serona brought her here, and stripped her of her powers to kill her. She waits in terror for her arrival.

Merlin Wyllt and his twin, Jacob, are the ones who cast the spell bringing Velona there, thinking she's the evil sorceress Pondora. When they see the beauty and her fear and vulnerability, they quickly fall for her, realizing they're sexually bonded to her and her to them, a pleasing side effect of the spell. Unfortunately, they also opened a portal. Serona has seen Velona and is coming to kill her.

Hoping to fix the wrong they did, the three set out for Stonehenge to cast a spell reversing all of Pondora's curses and destroying Serona. The problem is Velona isn't Pondora, but she cannot tell them this. As their sexual passion and love grow stronger, the more complicated their plans get.

Will they succeed or put themselves and others in mortal danger?

Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.

Genre:
Fantasy, Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

Length:
29,355 words
 

Spells of Seduction 2

Jessica Frost

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

TO CATCH A WITCH

Copyright © 2012 by Jessica Frost

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61926-756-5

First E-book Publication: June 2012

Cover design by Les Byerley

All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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To Catch a Witch
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TO CATCH A WITCH

Spells of Seduction 2

JESSICA FROST

Copyright © 2012

Velona Poe squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tame the endless tears, and waited for the ax to fall.

Please make this all be a dream.

That was the only wish her mind kept repeating since this whole ordeal began. And yet more than a day had passed in this nightmare, and she still hadn’t awoken. No, this was not one of her far-fetched nightmares that would disappear with the morning’s sun. This nightmare was here to stay.

Never did she expect to be here now before all these people. With eyes transfixed, they waited. They waited for the time of reckoning to arrive
—t
he time of her reckoning to arrive. They stared at her with condemning conviction while she knelt in front of the high wooden block and leaned forward. The position was uncomfortable, and her knees and back ached from the ordeal of holding her balance. But that was the least of her problems. And soon it would be a thing of the past. Soon everything and everyone around her would be a thing of the past. What lay in her future weaved a veil of the unknown that made her quiver in fear right to her very soul.

Taking a deep breath to force her lungs to work, she waited. Her neck rested in the perfect strategic angle for the ax’s blade to make her decapitation quick and as painless as possible. But that gave her no solace. She was about to die, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Someone or something was blocking her powers. She couldn’t cast a vanishing spell or make the crowd, and her executioner, fall asleep. She was completely helpless as the sand in her life’s hourglass slowly ran out.

“Hurry, get on with it. Kill Pondora. Kill the evil witch,” one of the hecklers in the crowd complained to the headsman.

As if coaxed by the badgering words, the public executioner poised his ax gently over her neck. She felt the contact of its cold blade on her skin. A shiver of utter panic channeled through her neck, down her spine to her legs, making them wobble with weakness. She swallowed, but her parched mouth only irritated her throat more. Glancing to her right, she caught a glimpse of the devil himself, the Duke of Kent, the man who brought this all upon her.

Just yesterday they were happy and in love, preparing to marry and live happily ever after. But today all of what they meant to one another was forgotten. Their intended vows were completely nonexistent. He just stood there, staring at her with coldness and hatred in his eyes, not an ounce of compassion spared.

How could I have been so foolish?

She had thought their love could conquer all, but obviously it didn’t. Instead it caused her downfall and now-imminent death.

For years she had walked and mingled in the king’s court as one of the nobles, and no one had been the wiser. Not a single soul there knew who she really was, that she was a mighty sorceress who many feared but none understood. They labeled her an evil enchantress who cast spells upon women and men, leading them to their deaths. But in truth that part of her past was over long ago. Now, she only used her powers for good, helping the vulnerable and the needy.

Unfortunately, what she had been in the past life would always hang over her, like the headman’s ax did now. It could never be erased or forgotten by the townspeople.

Even if she was a different person now, never was she tempted to reveal her true identity. She knew what the repercussions may be. But when she fell in love with Thomas, the Duke of Kent, all her common sense went out the door. She lost focus of her true purpose and thought maybe she could just this once lead a normal, mortal life.

She decided to take the leap of faith and tell him the whole truth about her past and who she really was. She believed their love for one another was strong and that he would accept her for who she was and keep her secret. But unfortunately, she overestimated his feelings for her. For the duke really didn’t love her and assumed she had cast a spell on him to seduce him into her bed. He reported her sorcery and identity as Pondora to his brother, the king, who immediately sent his guards to capture her. She had no trial but was quickly sentenced to death by decapitation for her crimes.

Ordinarily, she could have cast a spell in the dungeon to escape the castle and never return again. So then she could make another life for herself somewhere faraway where no one had heard of the damning name Pondora, and start over. But her powers had suddenly and mysteriously vanished, and she was as ordinary as the crowd of anxious, curious onlookers whose fixed gazes never wavered from the ax’s sharp blade.

Did they envision its effects as it sliced through her neck and her head rolled to the ground lifeless? She most definitely did.

The headsman lifted the blade over his head, and as it came plummeting down with such a swift movement that the air around it whistled, darkness encroached on her. She expected excruciating pain to overwhelm her as he sliced through her skin and flesh, but instead she felt herself float in the air like a weightless feather and fly through a tunnel. She spun round and round. Or was it the tunnel spinning around her? Perhaps it was the latter.

She couldn’t breathe as the pressure on her chest made her lungs feel like they were caving in. Stars and blackness streamed around the spinning tunnel. Fear encompassed her mind and heart, making incoherent thoughts flutter in her head, and her heartbeat thumped in her eardrums. She didn’t know how much more she could take of this before her heart exploded or she went mad.

Thankfully, the spiraling motion finally ended a few minutes afterward as the vortex tunnel disappeared. She fell with a hard thud to the floor. Her right shoulder and ankle ached as they took the brunt of the fall on the hard stone. Everything around her was a blur because her vision continued to spin. But once it subsided, she acknowledged she no longer was in the Tower of London but in some dark, damp tower.

A stinging pain behind her neck had her touching the area, making sure the blade had not sliced through her skin. Luckily, she felt not even a scratch. The pain was just her imagination and stress getting the better of her. Somehow right before the blade cut through her neck, she was transported through a vortex channel to this place.

Where am I?
She looked around. The moss growing on the limestone walls told her the unkempt room hadn’t seen soap and water for several years. Her nose twitched when a sneeze threatened to escape.

She slowly turned and got up only to fall back onto the floor, clutching her ankle, cursing. The moment she put weight on her foot, it felt like a hundred tiny knives stabbed her ankle. She couldn’t move.