Read Hex and the Single Witch Online
Authors: Saranna Dewylde
Hex and the Single Witch
Hex and the Single Witch
by Saranna Dewylde
Total-e-bound
Copyright ©2011 by Saranna DeWylde
First published in 2011
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others.
This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.
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A Total-E-Bound Publication
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www.total-e-bound.com
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Hex and the Single Witch
ISBN #978-0-85715-802-4
(C)Copyright Saranna DeWylde 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh (C)Copyright November 2011
Edited by Rebecca Hill
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
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Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Total-e-sizzling
and a
sexometer
of
2.
University of Magic and Mayhem
HEX AND THE SINGLE WITCH
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Saranna DeWylde
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Practice Safe Hex!
As a Hexacology major at the University of Magic and Mayhem, Caraway Wormwood has always practiced safe hex.
Until her latest break-up with a footballer troll pushes her too far. When a good witch is ready to go bad, who better to bring her over to the dark side than the son of the Devil?
Alexander Morningstar has wanted to get his horns into Caraway Wormwood for years. He knows he’s the right one to flesh out her education, but after one lesson plan Alexander is the one doing homework. He can’t get enough of the wannabe wicked witch.
Education at the University of Magic and Mayhem is more than scrolls and potions. It’s a wild romp with dual-sexed Valentine fairies, scheming trolls, brazen warlocks and an Infernal Prince Charming who decides he may just have to have his own brand of Happily Ever After.
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For the Sanibel Divas.
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Trademarks Acknowledgement
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The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
GQ: Conde Nast Publications
Rosa Regale: Banfi Vintners
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“I bet when she comes, it’s with a burst of pink glitter right out of her quim,” Coriander Wormwood whispered spitefully in her lilting London accent.
“Her eyes are pink, too. She looks like an anorexic lab rat that’s been snorting fairy dust. Fucking Valentine fairies,” Caraway Wormwood, her American cousin, responded with disgust.
The target of their ridicule tossed her pink hair over her shoulder and batted her insanely long eyelashes at one Brody Bendopolous, the blond, blue-eyed sex-god troll of every girl’s dreams. At least, if said girl went to UMM, the University of Magic and Mayhem.
Stupid trolls. Why do they have to be so hot?
Caraway sighed.
“And her name?
Clarabelle
? Sounds like she should be in a pasture somewhere with her dumb face buried in a feedbag,” Coriander said with a giggle.
“Someone ought to strap her down and feed her. She’s so skinny. She’s one of those girls who thinks skinny is automatically sexy. Even though she has no tits at all,” Caraway said and looked down at her own generous helping of cleavage. She wondered why Brody would prefer a female with negative A cups to her own overabundance.
“Maybe Brody’s into blokes. That would explain it,” Coriander replied thoughtfully.
Caraway sighed again as she considered the possibility, as well as myriad ways to make Brody pay for breaking up with her at the Samhain mixer so everyone could see her humiliation in high def.
She turned her head to look across the courtyard— anywhere but at Brody and Clarabelle—but regretted it instantly. There, in all his satanic and well-bred glory, was Alexander Morningstar, crossing the courtyard with his crew of fledgeling warlocks. He was, unfortunately, the TA in her Advanced Hexacology class and on the High Council of UMM— which made him a constant pain in her ass.
Yes, he was hot, too. Hot as Hell, to be precise, the son of the Devil and a female warlock. His hair was as black as sin.
He had a lush, pre-Raphaelite mouth, sharp cheekbones and a nose that had been broken—most likely on purpose so he wouldn’t be so damn pretty. His shoulders were as wide as Brody’s and he was an inch taller. Caraway blamed his handmade Italian shoes and GQ. It was probably a charm.
She’d bet anything he didn’t really look like that. All those white, straight teeth were probably rotten and green. It was what she hoped for, anyway. She’d also decided it was a sin for any man to look that good in a polo shirt and jeans. Even if they were designer.
“Don’t look now, Cous. Here comes Captain Cock and his crew of knoblings.” Coriander tugged on her shoulder.
“I see them.” Caraway wanted to turn and run screaming in the other direction. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Morningstar today. He was always such a bastard and, for some reason, his favourite pastime was goading
her
. His disciples didn’t generally bother with her, but they all took great amusement in watching the verbal sparring matches.
“Wormwood,” he said cheerfully as he approached.
Damn it.
No chance he would move on to other prey. He was disgustingly cheerful. “Morningstar,” she acknowledged.
“I see your footballer troll has moved on to greener and leaner pastures,” he replied in a pleasant tone.
“I don’t know about greener,” Coriander interjected. “That would imply less experience, as opposed to the drive-thru lane she has in her cunny.”
He raised a black brow and smirked. “You have a wicked tongue, Coriander.”
Leaner? Had he just called her fat? He insulted her constantly for her witch heritage, but he’d never stooped to insulting her shape. She could admit she was curvier than the average UMM co-ed, but Caraway thought it looked good on her. And why was he calling her cousin by her first name when all he ever called
her
was ‘Wormwood’?
Not that she cared.
Her power gathered and crackled in green light around her fingers.
“Just catching the ‘leaner’ part of that comment, are we?” he drawled. Morningstar turned his attention back to her and eyed her up and down, his dark eyes glittering with blatant appreciation. “I didn’t say leaner was better.”
She couldn’t decide which irritated her more—that he was ogling her or that she liked it. Caraway flushed under his perusal and decided it was definitely that she liked it. A cardinal sin, if she’d ever heard one. He was a right bastard, as Coriander liked to say. Through and through. As good as he looked, there was nothing but shit underneath.
“I don’t give an eye of newt what you think is better, Morningstar.”
“Really?” His gaze raked over her again, a leisurely burn that would have her squirming later to the rapid stroke of her own fingers. “That’s too bad.”
Was he
flirting
with her? He’d succeeded in raising Hell, because she was in it. He must want something from her and she was determined to figure out what it was before this all got way out of hand. “And why is that?”
“I’ve decided I like you, Wormwood.” He paused to look at her again. “Yes, I like you very much.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” Caraway scowled.
He laughed and damn if the sound didn’t settle deep in her belly and make her
want
. Anything with a womb would tear down cities with her bare hands just to hear that laugh again and know it was for her alone.
“Caraway,” he said, his tongue lingering over the syllables as if he were actually tasting them. The way he said her name was like a caress and it slipped inside her, touching dark places that burnt.
No! No, bad Caraway!
She mentally slapped herself. He was the Devil. Or he would be when his father abdicated.
Whatever. He was
bad
. By Hecate, she liked it better when he was insulting her.
“Don’t you have puppies to kick?”
He laughed again.
Bastard.
“No, that was on my to-do list yesterday. Today, it’s tormenting dark-eyed witches in delectably tight T-shirts.”
As if her day couldn’t get any worse, Brody and Clarabelle had wandered over. Or more like Brody had seen her talking to Morningstar and had to come to assure his ego she hadn’t moved on yet. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. Typical troll behaviour. That’s why they were ugly beasts in all the stories—an allegory for their shitty personalities. She wasn’t even sure now why she’d dated him. She didn’t like him as a person, not after she’d got to know him.
“Cara, sleeping with the enemy?” Brody said in a disapproving tone. Clarabelle was plastered to his side like a barnacle. An ugly, glittery, condescending growth.
“It’s not your business, Brody.” Coriander rushed to her defence.
“Oh, I see. It’s a ploy to make me jealous.” He shook his blond head.
“Brody, you can’t even spell ploy, so don’t try to use it in a sentence,” Caraway replied in a saucy tone.