Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind as she lay almost naked against this ruggedly powerful and mysterious man.
The longer Selene lay there, the more she wondered what it would feel like to press her lips to his skin.
An image of lips brushing the top of her head was followed by a featherlight stirring at her temple. Selene’s breath caught in her chest.
Her heart tripped over itself and then thundered against her ribs. She shifted until she faced him, staring up into his eyes. “Did you kiss me?” she asked, her voice little more than air.
Gryph’s mouth quirked upward. “Had I really kissed you, you would know.”
ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband have even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or ellejames.com.
Possessing the Witch
Elle James
MILLS & BOON
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For friends and lovers who accept you for who you are, no matter your physical or social flaws.
To Cleve for inspiring my drive and ambition to succeed in this crazy world of publication and for being there when I need a swift kick in the pants to get back to work. You’re more than just a husband. You’re my cheerleader, coach and team. You love me for all my successes and my flaws and encourage me to push on. I could not have accomplished so much without your love and support.
Contents
Cover
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Extract
Copyright
Chapter 1
She glanced behind her, certain she’d heard something that sounded like a growl. When the sound did not repeat, she shrugged and pulled up the collar of her jacket to block the bite of the chilled autumn air. Now, she wished that she’d accepted an offer of a ride to the garage from her friends. At least then she wouldn’t be alone, on a dark street, jumping at every noise.
She knew better than to go anywhere alone in downtown Chicago, especially after dark.
As she entered the parking garage, she let out the breath she’d been holding and laughed. All that worry for nothing. She climbed the stairs to the second level and there, in the middle of the empty bay, stood her car, a shiny, creamy, pearl-white Audi, the heated leather seats beckoning to her.
As she dug in her purse for her keys, she heard it again. This time louder. The deep rumble of an animal’s growl sent shivers coursing down her spine.
It sounded as though it was coming from her car.
The growl burst into a roar, echoing off the concrete walls of the garage, so real and frightening she screamed and dropped her purse, keys and all, and ran back toward the stairs.
“No,” she cried, her heart in her throat, her breath catching on a sob. “No.”
Although hampered by high heels, she made it all the way to the bottom. As she turned toward the street, fifty feet away and still busy with traffic, something big and heavy slammed into her back, knocking her facedown on the concrete.
Too far from the traffic to be seen, she lay pinned beneath the weight of an animal, its heated breath sniffing at the back of her neck.
She whimpered, struggling to crawl from beneath it, her heart racing, her hands scuffed and bleeding. “Please...”
The creature’s nose nuzzled the line of her throat, then a long, hot, wet tongue snaked out and licked her skin.
She screamed, renewing her frantic fight to free herself from the faceless beast.
The animal roared again and sank its teeth into the back of her neck, shaking her viciously.
Her arms and legs went numb and she couldn’t move any part of her body, but her thoughts were clear and frightened beyond comprehension.
The creature dragged her from the garage into the shadows of an alley, pavement scraping her face. He stopped behind a stack of bound cardboard, dropped her to the ground and roared, the sound reverberating off the walls.
“Please...don’t kill me.”
* * *
Selene Chattox jerked awake, drenched in sweat, her heart racing.
Please...don’t kill me.
She snatched her cell phone from the nightstand and speed-dialed her sister, Deme.
“Yeah...what...who is this?” A loud banging noise was followed by a muttered curse. “Sorry, I dropped my phone. Selene? What’s wrong?” Her voice was hoarse, filled with the gravel of sleep.
“She’s dying.”
“Who’s dying?” All raspiness cleared, Deme’s words were clear and clipped.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell where?”
“In an alley.”
“Can you be more specific? Do you see anything else, a street sign, a building name, something?”
Selene inhaled, closed her eyes and let her mind drift back into the dream. Her cheek stung where the pavement had scraped against her skin in the nightmare—blessedly, the rest of her body felt no pain. Hot breath snorted down on her neck and Selene jerked out of the vision, her hand shaking so hard she could barely hold the cell phone to her ear. “I smelled water. She was in a parking garage, leaving the theater, when she was attacked. It dragged her into a nearby alley.”
“A theater near water...” Deme spoke to someone on the other end. “River or lake?”
“River.”
“The Civic Opera House on Wacker Drive?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m coming over. Cal’s calling Lieutenant Warner. We’ll have someone there in minutes.”
“Hurry,” Selene whispered. “It’s going to kill her.”
* * *
Wind blasted down the back alley as Gryphon Leone emerged from the Civic Opera House, wrapping his long cloak around him. The chill of fall had settled in far sooner than he’d expected. He sniffed the air, his keen sense of smell picking up on the delicate nuances of coming rain and the dampness of the river.
He’d waited until the other theatergoers had departed before leaving the shadows of his box. He arrived early and left late, valuing his anonymity and privacy. The fewer people he encountered, the better. Despite years of exercising his control, he didn’t trust himself with the people of the light and didn’t put himself in too many situations that required him to remain in the public eye for long.
With the rise of his business and philanthropic ventures, he feared his anonymity would soon be a blessing of the past.
He hurried toward the street, determined to return to his apartment at the base of his office building, a haven beneath the surface of the oldest part of downtown Chicago, before the rain came.
The scent captured him, bringing him to a sudden halt. He lifted his nose to the air, a low rumble rising in his throat.
Blood. Fresh blood and animal musk.
His apartment, and the need to return before the rain, slipped through his thoughts, forgotten as his inner animal pushed to the surface.
Gryph fought back, breathing deeply in and out until the growling abated and all that was left was the scent—blood, tantalizingly fresh, tainted by the musk of another animal and the accompanying stench of fear.
He wanted to turn and walk away, but he couldn’t, his feet moving of their own accord, closer to the source. Rounding a corner, he spied a parking garage and something dark staining the sidewalk near the stairs leading up.
The stain spread like someone had taken a large paintbrush and dragged it along the walkway, until the paint ran out at the entrance to an alley.
Go home. Return to your apartment. Don’t get involved.
Balthazar’s words echoed in his head, the old man’s warnings etched firmly in Gryph’s brain since as far back as he could remember.
Still, the trail begged to be followed. He’d go as far as the entrance to the alley, no farther.
Gryph crossed the street, keeping out of the inky liquid staining the concrete, and worked his way quietly to the entrance to the alley.
As he stepped into the opening, a bellow blasted against the brick walls, followed by a woman’s scream.
A huge shadow rose up from behind a stack of wooden pallets, the shape that of a giant wolf, rearing back on his hind legs.
Gryph’s beast exploded from inside, answering with a deeper, more ferocious roar, thundering into the alley, echoing against the brick walls. His skin and bones moved, spread and stretched as his physical form altered, expanding, his clothing ripping at the seams. He shrugged out of his cloak, the long folds falling to the ground at his feet.
The creature in the alley rumbled again, launching itself toward him.
Caught in midtransformation, Gryph was helpless to defend himself.
The wolf, equal in size to Gryph’s inner lion, hit him full in the chest, knocking him back into the side street. The air slammed from his lungs.
His attacker flew past him and hit the opposite building, his feet glancing off the bricks, then landed on all fours, launching a new attack within seconds.
His transformation complete, Gryph dodged to his side and sprang to all fours, reaching out to pound the animal with a powerful swipe from his forepaw.
The wolf tumbled across pavement, sprang back on his feet and tore into Gryph, his fangs slashing for Gryph’s jugular.
Gryph twisted to avoid the worst of the bite, but not all of it. The wolf’s teeth sank into his skin, ripping through his shoulder near his collarbone. Pain rocketed through his senses, blinding him briefly.
The wolf pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. Had the creature wanted to finish him off, it could have with one more fatal bite.
Instead it stared down at him, its chest heaving, and it growled low and menacingly, like a warning. Then it leaped over Gryph and disappeared out of the alley and around a corner.
His shoulder bleeding, Gryph pushed to his paws, his racing heartbeat slowing.
A moan alerted him to another being’s presence in the alley. With his focus on survival, Gryph hadn’t moved on to the source of the long, thick bloodstain.
He staggered toward the banded stack of compressed cardboard boxes, his nostrils filled with the scents of blood, woman and fear.
Before he reached her, his body began its transformation back to man, the change made more difficult given his wounds.
His arms and legs completed before his face and head, allowing him to reach out to the woman and feel for a pulse.
Her eyes blinked open, widening, a scream bubbling up in her throat.
Gryph tried to reassure her with words, but all that he could emit was a rumbling growl.
The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.
The pavement was soaked with her blood from a wound in the back of her neck. If she had any chance at survival, she had to get to a hospital as soon as possible.
He left her on the ground for only a moment to retrieve his cloak, his cell phone tucked in the inside pocket.
Quickly he dialed 911 and gave a description of the victim, her injuries and her location. When the dispatcher asked his name, he clicked the off button and pocketed the phone.
He returned to the woman and applied pressure to her wound to stem the flow of blood from her body, but her face was deathly pale.
As he leaned over her body, blood dripped down on her.
Until now, he hadn’t realized how much blood he’d lost. He could tell he was weakening, but he couldn’t leave the woman until the police or ambulance were close.
A siren sounded in the distance, growing closer by the second.
Gryph had to leave before the emergency personnel arrived—how else would he explain his tattered clothing? And given his injuries and the pain they caused, he couldn’t risk being around surface dwellers should the pain increase, summoning his inner beast.
He stayed until the last possible moment. When the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle pulled into the side street, Gryph leaped over the chain-link fence behind him, raced for the opposite end of the alley and rounded the corner to the next street.
Keeping to the shadows, he ran until his feet slowed, the blood running in a stream down his arm, dripping onto the sidewalk, draining his strength. The police would follow his trail. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let them find him. Then he remembered how close he was to the river, its scent drawing him to the corner of Washington Street and Wacker Drive. Making a sharp left, he stumbled toward the bridge. An ambulance passed him, its lights blinding. A police car followed, slowing as it passed by.
Exhaustion pulled at Gryph—he wanted to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He leaned against the bridge railing and stared down into the water.
The police car stopped and backed up.
Gryph leaned out and let himself tip over the edge. Then he was falling, racing to meet the black shiny surface of the river.
When he hit the water, the force of the fall sent him deep into the murky black depths.
His shoulder burned, the effort to move it too much. But he kicked his feet, propelling himself upward, hoping the current would carry him far enough away they wouldn’t find him.
He surfaced a hundred yards from the Washington Street Bridge. A cop stood at the rails shining a flashlight below, sending a sweeping arc back and forth across the water.
Gryph sucked in a breath and sank below the surface, letting the current carry him farther away. As he flowed downstream with the river, he wondered what it would feel like to drown, to let his lungs fill with water and the river claim him. His chest burned for oxygen and he kicked his feet to send him closer to the river’s edge. Dying in a river wasn’t in the cards for him tonight.
When he came up again, he had drifted far enough that the cop’s light couldn’t find him. Tired beyond endurance, he kicked and pulled with one arm to the side of the river, searching for a place he could crawl out. Several minutes later, he found a metal ladder pinned to the concrete walls of the river and dragged himself up the east embankment onto a walkway, where he collapsed, the night sky of the city fading to black.
Chapter 2
Pain...tired...can’t breathe.
Selene staggered to the door of her basement apartment below the vintage dress shop she owned that was situated among the quaint little buildings of old-town Chicago.
She could barely breathe and her shoulder ached unbearably, the pain draining her strength, sucking the life from her body.
Holding on to the handrail, she pulled herself up the steps to ground level. Headlights flashed on the street in front of the building.
Once outside the door of her shop, Selene met Deme, as her sister climbed out of her Lexus SUV. “Thank the goddess, you’re here.”
“Were you going somewhere without me?” Deme asked.
Selene lurched toward the car and leaned against the door. “We need to get there.”
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Deme started to round the car.
“I’m okay, but we need to move fast.” She opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. “Hurry.”
“Where exactly do we need to get?” Deme climbed back into the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition.
“Head toward the Washington Street Bridge.”
Deme shifted into gear and spun the SUV around in a tight U-turn, bumping over the curb on the other side of the street. When they’d gone several blocks, she looked across at Selene.
“Is it the girl? The one you called about earlier?”
Selene shook her head. “No. Someone else. He’s injured and alone.” She closed her eyes, shivering. “And cold. He’ll die if we don’t get to him soon.”
“What about the girl?”
“The EMTs are with her now. But he’s alone.”
Deme’s foot sank to the floor, shooting them along the streets, dodging the occasional driver unfortunate enough to be out on the city streets so late into the night.
As they crossed the Washington Street Bridge, Selene leaned forward, her gaze panning the landscape, the steel, glass and concrete buildings rising high into the night sky, blocking the moon. “Turn left on Wacker.”
On such short notice, Deme slammed on her brakes and skidded into the turn. The rear end continued around and she goosed the accelerator to keep her SUV from making a complete three-sixty.
As they shot down Wacker, Selene dug her fingers into the dash, leaning so far forward her nose almost touched the windshield. He was near, very near. Selene leaned back in her seat, braced herself and yelled, “Stop!”
Deme hit the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a standstill, tires burning into the asphalt.
Selene burst from the door, rounded the car and raced across the street. So intent on reaching the wounded man, she didn’t see the car until almost too late.
A horn blared, tires squealed and an older model Lincoln Town Car swerved, barely missing her.
Without slowing, she ducked between buildings and headed for the river.
“Selene, wait for me,” Deme called out behind her.
But she couldn’t wait, his need drove her forward, sending her on a headlong rush toward the river. She found a staircase leading down to the walkway along the water’s edge.
“Selene!” Deme called out behind her. “Damn it, this area is dangerous at this time of night.”
She knew. He’d been injured by a dangerous animal, his blood running into the river. Selene ran along the water’s edge, heading north. Something moved in the shadow beneath the next bridge.
Fear had a place in Selene’s race to save him. But it wasn’t for herself. It was for him. She didn’t slow until she reached the bridge.
A moan echoed off the steel supports.
A man lay across the concrete, a soaked cape pulling at the string around his neck, but otherwise he was shirtless in the late autumn chill. His soaked trousers were torn and ragged, as though they’d been through a shredder. No shoes, no jacket, his hair, longish and tousled, was hanging in his face.
Selene ripped the coat from her back and covered him, pulling it up to the wounded shoulder. Blood oozed from a deep gash. Not a gunshot wound, but the vicious bite of a raging animal. She tore the hem of her blouse, wadded the material into a pad and pressed it into the gash, stemming the flow of blood.
His eyes opened and he gasped. A low growl rumbled in his throat and his hand reached out to grab her wrist in a fearsome grip, pulling her hand away from the injury. The strength of his grasp hurt, cutting off her circulation.
Selene bit her lower lip, pushing back the pain. He didn’t know what he was doing. “Shh...I’m here to help. We have to stop the bleeding. Let me help.” Tears stung her eyes as his grip tightened. She stared into his face, trying to read his expression, the shadows blurring her view.
If he squeezed much harder, he’d snap her bones. Such strength in an injured man was extraordinary.
She sent soothing thoughts into his consciousness.
Deme skidded to a halt behind her. “Let her go,” her sister said to the man.
“It’s okay, Deme. He’s delirious, he doesn’t know he’s hurting me.” Selene sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Please, let go. I need to stop the blood. Do you understand? Otherwise you’ll die.” Please, I only want to help.
His eyelids drooped. “Tired. Can’t hold on.”
“That’s right, let go.” Selene peeled one finger loose, then another. “We need to get you help.”
“No hospital,” he whispered. Then his hand slackened and dropped to the ground.
“About damned time he passed out. I was going to have to knock him out so that you could help his stubborn ass.” Deme dropped to her haunches and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll get an ambulance here.”
“No!” Selene’s response came swift and sure. From where, she didn’t know. All she knew was that this man wouldn’t want to go to a hospital, no matter how injured he was. “Help me get him back to your vehicle.”
“Are you kidding? He must weigh close to two hundred pounds. There are stairs and...”
“Please. We have to get him out of the cold and bandage his wound before shock sets in or it won’t matter.” She pressed the wad of material to his shoulder. “Give me your scarf.”
“But it’s my favorite.”
Selene held out her hand.
Deme unwound the scarf from around her neck and reluctantly handed it to her, a frown creasing her brow. “You don’t even know this guy. What’s so special about him?”
Selene didn’t answer, instead wrapping the scarf around his shoulder and knotting it over the wound to apply more pressure. Then she stood and grabbed him beneath the injured arm.
Deme took the uninjured side.
The man growled again, guttural and animal-like.
“Get up,” Selene said in a strong voice any drill sergeant would envy. “Get up!” With her sister’s help and the efforts of the half conscious, half naked man, they got him to his feet and led him to the stairs.
After nearly losing him twice, they got him up the steps and onto the street above. Selene leaned him against a light pole to help hold him up as Deme ran for the vehicle. She pulled up beside them and they guided him into the backseat, bumping his head and shoulder in the process.
A low roar ripped through the car, startling the women.
Deme stared across at Selene. “No man should make that kind of noise, I don’t care how delirious.”
“Just get him in.” Selene lifted one of his legs, shoved it in and closed the door quickly. She climbed into the passenger seat and twisted around to watch him.
Deme eased into the driver’s seat and stared into the rearview mirror at the man. “Sure you don’t want me to drop him off at a hospital emergency room?”
“No.” Selene’s jaw set in a hard line. “Take me home.”
Deme shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not leaving him at your place.”
“You have to.” Selene shot a pleading glance at her sister. “I’m his only hope.”
“Look, Selene, you don’t know this guy. He could be a mass murderer or a rapist. He could be the person who jumped the woman from your vision.”
