Stone Cold Fox Read online

  Maybe that’s what he wants, though, whispered the voice of caution in her head. Maybe he’s just trying to lure you and get you off guard so he can—

  Jo pushed the thought abruptly away. So far, Reese seemed like a decent guy. He agreed to the binding spell, so she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Speaking of the binding spell, she had to get dressed and go outside to start casting the circle. She took off the puffy towel and hung it over the shower curtain to dry. But her black sundress was tattered and dirty—she couldn’t bear to put it back on over her freshly washed skin. She’d brought very few other clothes with her but a look in her pack showed they were all in pretty much the same state as the dress. Dirty, ragged, smelly . . . and since she’d taken so long in the bathtub, there was no time to wash them.

  There was a man’s button-down, dark blue dress shirt hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Jo hesitated . . . then put it on. It fell to mid-thigh on her and she had to roll up the much too long sleeves. She hoped Reese wouldn’t be upset with her but she could always promise to wash the shirt later, after her own ragged clothes had taken a trip through the washing machine. And he had told her to make herself at home.

  Jo looked in the mirror, startled all over again at the young face staring back. The shirt looked good with her eyes and her freshly washed hair hung down her back, long and damp and, because it was wet, looking more dark auburn than her usual pale red. She was . . . pretty.

  How long had it been since she’d thought of herself in those terms? Since before the attack in the park so many years ago, she thought. After that, she’d blamed her looks for what had happened to her and had wanted nothing more to do with dressing up or fixing her hair or anything that related to making herself attractive to the opposite sex.

  She wondered if it would ever be possible to reclaim that part of herself—the part that liked feeling pretty and desirable. Could she ever . . . Her eyes wandered up to the clock and she saw it was getting late.

  “Stop it, Jo, you’re wasting time,” she muttered to herself.

  Gathering her things and making sure the bathtub was clean, she went back downstairs and out into the backyard. The sun was much lower in the sky now, almost setting, and there was a chilly light wind whispering through the pines and maples behind the house. Jo sat on the creaky back porch steps and dug in her pack once more, looking for everything else she needed.

  Out of the pack she took a baggie of sea salt, four candles of various colors, her athame, a metal chalice, a small bottle of red chrism oil, and Miranda’s book of shadows.

  Of course, Jo had her own book—but at the time of Miranda’s death, her mentor had been a witch for at least thirty more years than Jo had. Her book was probably the most complete one Jo had ever seen—excluding the Great Book that stood on the cedar stand in the room of wisdom back in Avalon.

  Of course, a protection or warding spell would probably work the best to keep Reese away from her—unfortunately it would work too well. It would force him to stay at least one hundred yards away from her at all times—kind of like a magical restraining order. That would be awkward if she was staying in the same house with him and also, Jo felt it would be rude. Kind of like saying she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. No, the binding spell was definitely a better option.

  Thumbing carefully through the book with its cracked leather binding, she came to the spell she wanted—the binding of male to female. Of course, she wanted to bind Reese away from her—to stop him from touching her—but the spell would work for that as well—she only needed to reverse some of the wording. But . . . Jo frowned as she read over the instructions for how to work the magic.

  “Crap,” she muttered. “I can’t believe this! Seriously?”

  “Hi,” a deep male voice said from behind her. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh!” Jo gasped and turned around, her athame gripped tightly in one fist.

  Reese was standing there, wearing jeans and a light blue t-shirt. He put up both hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just—” He stopped abruptly, his entire big body stiffening like a hound on point. His eyes went wide and his nostrils flared, as though he was catching some strange scent on the evening breeze.

  “Reese?” She kept a tight grip on her athame and tucked the book of shadows under her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I . . . did you . . . did you take a . . . a bath?” he asked at last in a strangled voice.

  “Well . . . yes.” Jo wondered if he was angry. “You told me to make myself at home and I hadn’t had a chance to get clean in two weeks. I’m sorry about your shirt,” she added hastily, plucking at the dark blue fabric with the hand not holding the athame. “But all my clothes are dirty. I promise I’ll wash it and iron it and—”

  “No . . . no, it’s okay.” Reese gave a forced-sounding laugh and took a step back from her. “Keep the shirt—it’s fine, really.”

  “Are you sure?” Jo raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Sure I’m sure.” He cleared his throat. “I’m, um, glad to see you’re getting comfortable.”

  “I appreciate that,” Jo said sincerely. “I was, uh, just about to call the circle.”

  “Call . . . call the circle?”

  “It’s the start of most Wiccan spells,” Jo explained.

  “Okay. Um . . .” He coughed. “Excuse me. I need glass of water before we, uh, get started.”

  “Sure.” Jo nodded. “And while you’re in there, I need some wine. Do you have any?”

  “Wine?” He frowned. “Not much of a wine drinker myself—beer is more my style. But I might have some. Let me go see.” And he fled into the house, almost stumbling in his haste to get through the backdoor into the kitchen.

  Jo frowned as she watched him go. What had that been all about? He’d seemed perfectly fine when he first walked up behind her and then he had become . . . flustered somehow. But why?

  She didn’t know and anyway, she was more concerned with getting this spell right. Looking at Miranda’s Book of Shadows again, she frowned.

  This was going to be more complicated than she’d thought.

  * * *

  Reese nearly ran in the kitchen and grabbed the edge of the countertop with both hands, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  Her scent! Oh God, her scent!

  Now he understood what his Fox found so damn attractive about the little red-haired witch. She was a Juvie—a Rejuvenated female.

  A woman could be born with the Shifter Gene, but it would be dormant all her life as long as she had a man who claimed her and made love to her regularly. But once she reached her forties or fifties, the age of Rejuvenation, if she had no mate or if her mate had neglected her sexually for at least six months, the hormonal changes would start.

  Her body would return to the physical state she’d been in during her early twenties and a state of hyper-fertility would be induced. And since Lady Moon wanted to ensure that there were always more Shifter babies to continue the race she had created, the newly Rejuvenated female would start emitting a Juvie scent that was like pure sex—a siren call to any male Shifter in her immediate vicinity to mate and breed her.

  That was the scent that Jo was putting out right now—Reese couldn’t understand how he’d missed it earlier. Maybe it had to do with the strange, gray dust she’d smeared all over her skin—it had acted as some kind of camouflage and masked her Juvie scent. But the gray dust was gone now and Jo smelled like a female in heat, ripe and ready to be mated and bred. Ready to be claimed by an Alpha who wanted to fill her belly with his babies.

  Get a grip on yourself. Reese told himself angrily. He looked down at the hard bulge in his jeans—his cock was standing at attention and throbbing with need. You have to get control. You can’t go out there like this—you’ll freak her out and scare her off!

  He also couldn’t tell her what she wa