Aisha glanced at her phone—again. It was twenty to nine, and she’d been serving punch to an increasingly inebriated crowd for almost three hours. The night was cold and clear, the sky shot with millions of stars. She breathed deep, loving the pine and sage smells along the lower reaches of the Sierras. Small rodents chittered from thick forest across the way, and the cries of nighthawks and owls on the hunt added to the rest of the evening’s music.

The band wasn’t bad, sort of a combination of bluegrass and country. She’d found herself swaying to its beat more than once as the hours wore on. Things had been going well until she caught a flash of Liam’s rangy form a while back.

Panic mingled with leftover lust. In an attempt to avoid him—maybe not him, precisely, but all the complications around pursuing him—she’d shrouded herself in invisibility. She was still concealed when someone wanting more punch had simply helped themselves. Once they staggered back into the crowd, she released her spell.

“Sure you don’t want a break?” Arabia Jenson sidled close on clunky heels designed to mask her short, chunky stature. Her black hair was streaked with turquoise, and she was duded up as usual with way too much makeup and jewelry for Aisha’s taste. Despite the chill evening, Arabia wore a flimsy top, and a tight corset that pushed most of her breasts into view.

Aisha swallowed distaste. She’d never had much use for overdone women, and if anyone took it to the max, it was Arabia. “Nah, I’m good. Lucy May said she’d take over at nine.”

Arabia quirked a brow. “Cool. Then you can party all you want.”

Aisha choked on a snort. “Nope. No parties for this gal. I’ll be heading home. I hate leaving the horses alone for very long.”

“Don’t you think you’re a wee bit overprotective?”

“No. I don’t.” She resisted the urge to tell Arabia to get lost, but Stillwater was too small to make enemies.

“Aw, come on.” Arabia grinned engagingly. “Have a little fun for once. I’m sure your horsies are all bedded down for the night.”

A hot tide of words wanted out; Aisha stifled a desire to blast the bitch smiling at her. She’d never liked the woman who ran a phony psychic shop out of her home. Further, she’d always resented the similarities between Arabia’s name and her beloved Arabian stable.

Arabia had magic of some sort, but Aisha had never cared enough to tease out what kind.

Offering a tight smile, she said, “Nope. Heading home.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Arabia lowered her voice and leaned close. “I have a surprise planned for around nine, but you’ll still be here for it.”

Aisha didn’t like the sound of surprise coming from a neophyte who dabbled in magical places she didn’t belong, but before she could mine for details, Arabia sauntered away, hips swinging. Not quite lost in the crowd, she latched onto that lawyer boyfriend of hers.

Aisha ground her teeth and wished she’d put more effort into figuring out exactly what kind of magic Arabia had. Was the woman as green as she suspected? Or did she command enough power to make a true botch of whatever this surprise turned out to be?

Where the hell was Lucy? If she showed up soon, Aisha would make a run for it. That way, she’d escape whatever “harmless fun” Arabia was cooking up with her crystals and wands and whatever other props she employed.

Aisha closed her teeth over her lower lip. She liked things nice, clean, simple. It was how she orchestrated her magic—and her life. She’d bet her ranch Arabia’s spells were as overstated as she was with unnecessary—and unpredictable—embellishments tacked on because they were shiny.

Another peek at her phone told her that her stint would be up in ten more minutes. Come on, Lucy, she urged silently.

“Hey, honey! Did this turn into self-serve?” A fair-haired man she didn’t recognize planted the flats of his hands on the punch table, leering at her through greenish eyes.

Not caring for his tone, she ladled punch into a paper cup and set it in front of him. “Here you go.”

“I had another type of self-serve in mind.” He ogled her breasts.

“Get lost.”

“Now, that is no way to treat a guest.”

Never her long suit, Aisha’s temper snapped, and she stomped around to his side of the long table. “It is if the guest in question is an ill-tempered boor.”

His eyes widened in shock. From the looks of his polished boots and fancy clothes, he was some rich dude used to people fawning all over him. “I’ll report you to—to someone. See you lose your job.”

“Nothing would make me happier. Go away.”

“I love it when you wenches play hard to get.” He surged forward, making a grab for her breasts, but she was far faster than him, and she pivoted sideways. He stumbled, almost falling. Before he could turn around for another go at her, she hurried back to her side of the table. Straightening, he glared at her, snapped up his punch, and stomped away.

Nine o’clock.

Where the fuck was Lucy? Had she forgotten her promise to take over as punch-maid? Aisha had just decided to hunt her down, with magic if need be, when the singsong cadence of a spell reached her sensitive hearing.

"Pray, hear my words, Ceridwen,

Mother of Magic,

Goddess who is Wise.

Upon this full moon dark, this season of ice,

When the mists between the worlds are thin,

I call upon your power to arise and come to me.

Heart's desire called forth.

Ceridwen, assess my worth.

Freedom from slavery, naked in your rites.

Liberated from fear and doubt this night.

Before the dawn, deliver my heart's delight and desire.

Love is the law unto all beings.

My will be done, so mote it be."

Aisha’s mouth rounded into a horrified moue. This was Arabia’s surprise? It sure as hell was her chanting the Heart’s Desire spell. Layered atop the spell Aisha had put into play to snare Liam, the two were bound to be additive. Her muscles hardened into blocks of apprehension. She waited through one breath, and then another.

Nothing happened.

Maybe this would be all right. Perhaps Ceridwen was off-duty, looking elsewhere, or simply not paying one whit of attention to such a minor player in the magical cast of characters.

Wishful thinking. Just because Aisha hoped for all those things was absolutely zero guarantee any of them were true.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she muttered. “Right now. People are drunk enough, and they can get their own damned punch.”

She grabbed her bag and set off for where she’d left her truck a few blocks away, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She thought she was leaving, but she ended up walking in circles, driven by magic as strong as she’d ever experienced. All around her, couples were falling into each other’s arms. The sound of kisses and moans rose, accompanied by the reek of lust gone wild.

So much for Ceridwen looking elsewhere.

Her own body hummed with desire. All her fantasies about Liam crowded into her mind creating a Bacchanalian collage of one lust-ridden scene after another. She realized she’d stopped moving midway between a food site and her abandoned punch table.

The smell of smoke drew her at a run, and she turned off the food venue’s untended hot plates. They’d been making some kind of stir-fry, and the oil had begun to smoke. Thank the goddess, she’d noticed it before it went up like a torch. Grease fires were the absolute worst.

Every movement turned into an erotic ballet. Her shirt brushing her erect nipples drove her mad. Her jeans hiked into her crotch, and she almost came from the pressure. She had to get out of here, but she couldn’t remember where her truck was.

Or anything else.

The couples around her had moved from kissing to pawing at one another. When she glanced up, she saw a woman on her knees with a man’s dick moving in and out of her mouth. Aisha couldn’t stand it. She shoved a hand between her legs. Maybe if she came, she’d remember where her truck was.

Ha. Not likely. If this is the casting I think it is, it will last for hours, maybe days. Shit. Crap. Fuck. How did that flamboyant bitch have the skill to pull it off?

She thrust her hips hard against the hand cupped around her vulva. Not long. This would happen soon, very soon. She shut her eyes, calling up her favorite image of Liam, copper hair blowing in the wind, green eyes crinkled at their corners, chiseled lips grinning.

“Now, that’s what we like, lass.” His brogue was so real, she was certain her fantasy had come to life.

Arms closed around her from behind, and the unmistakable bulge of an erection prodded her backside. He placed his hand on top of the one she had between her legs, displacing hers. Heat from his hand seared her. The scents of clay baked under a Mediterranean sun mingled with rosemary and grew around them.

Aisha gasped, and her eyes flew open. “Oberon’s balls! You’re real. It’s not just in my head.”

“Aye, lass. I’m real enough. There’s strong magic afoot—and not yours this time. I say we go with it.”

She never knew where she got the strength to slither out from beneath his erotically-charged touch and swing around to face him. Sure enough, the clean lines of his face hovered above her. High forehead, square jaw, and those lips that all but begged her to kiss them.

“I was trying to leave.”

“The spell wouldn’t let you.” He swung one arm wide, encompassing dozens of rutting, half-naked couples. No one seemed to care it was too cold for that much exposed flesh.

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy. What she wanted to do was join the fuck-fest on the lawn. “Is that why you’re here?”

His green eyes turned into twin flames that drew her. “Nay, lassie. ’Tis strong enough magic, but mine trumps everything.”

“If that’s true”—another ragged breath—“why are you still here?”

He cupped the side of her face in his big, calloused fingers. “Because you are. Couldn’t leave you to the antics of just any Lothario with a hard-on, now could I?”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “You did sense my love charm. Admit it.”

He tossed his head, nostrils flaring. “Aye, a man would have to be dead not to feel such a calling.” He moved the hand cradling her face and hooked an index finger beneath her chin. “Where I come from, men prefer to pick their bedmates without artificial inducements.”

“But I waited and waited. I flirted. I—” She clapped a hand over her mouth. Whatever was wrong with her? She should shut up. “Never mind,” she mumbled.

“You don’t understand.” He grasped one of her hands and pressed it over his erection.

Heat roared through her. Contact with the hot, thick, throbbing length almost brought her to her knees. She grappled with the buttons on his jeans, but he tugged her hands away.

“We are going to do this,” he said, his voice rough with need, “but not out here on the ground like rutting beasts.” Sweeping an arm downward, he caught the backs of her knees and swung her into his arms.

She pushed her shoulder bag aside, so it wasn’t jammed between their bodies and twined her arms around his neck. They shouldn’t do this, but she didn’t see any other way out of the sexual tide that had sucked her into its maw. All the hand jobs in the world wouldn’t slake her lust.

Liam buried his nose in her hair before stringing kisses down the side of her face. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, taking them away from the grunts and groans as people orgasmed right and left around them. Angling her head to meet his questing mouth, she kissed him, drinking him deep.

He tasted the way she thought gold might taste, bright and metallic with sweet undertones. She should find out where he was taking her, but she didn’t care so long as they could get naked. He snaked his tongue into her mouth; she sparred with it and then tongue-kissed him back.

Nibbles, bites, and more kisses ignited need so pervasive it drove everything but the man next to her to a distant planet. Nothing had ever existed beyond this moment. Nothing ever would.

He ripped his mouth from hers. “My office is the closest place. It’s not fancy, but—”

“Close is good.” She could barely get the words out. The prospect of the fifteen-minute drive to her house or however far his was felt untenable. Unthinkable.

Magic glowed hot around them as he entered her mind. A lazy grin full of promise spread over his face. “Brilliant. I want you to be just as hungry as I am, and be warned, no one is as hungry as a mating dragon.”

Dragon.

Dragon.

Dragon.

The word sent warning bells pealing through her head, and she wriggled in his grasp. “We can’t. I mean I want to, but we can’t. It’s a bad idea. I—”

The magic swirling through her mind developed a soothing aspect, rather akin to the energy she used to calm restless horses. He held her closer and whispered to her in Gaelic.

She tried to find more words, but they twisted into arcane runes before spooling out of existence. The energy from the Heart’s Desire spell throbbed around them. His erection prodded her side, and she remembered how it felt in her hand. The need to strip him bare and study every inch before devouring him raced through her, heady like fragrant brandy.

“Better,” he crooned in Gaelic. “We must do this, Aisha. Between your spell and the ill-conceived one blanketing Stillwater, we’ve no choice.”

“You could have picked someone else.”

“In all the years I’ve been here, I’ve kept to myself. You’re who I want, lass, who I long for. You’re in my mind when I stroke myself. What do you know about the Heart’s Desire spell?”

The question caught her off-guard. “Not much, other than I recognize it.” She glanced away, suddenly shy. “I don’t expect you’ll believe me, but I don’t normally employ magic to lure men to my bed.”

“I hear truth in your words.” He nodded and kissed her forehead. “We’re almost to my office. The Heart’s Desire spell is a love spell wound in with a truth spell. It flogs whoever hears it with an insatiable lust, but only for their one true love. It’s why almost no one was coupling with their husbands or wives back there.” He jerked his head the direction they’d come.

She met his direct, green-eyed gaze. “So your story about saving me from an errant Lothario was bullshit.”

He snorted laughter. “Not entirely. ’Tis possible you had a suitor I knew naught about, but I wasn’t taking any chances.”

She tightened her hold on his neck, loving how it pressed her breasts into his chest. “What if the attraction is one-sided?”

“Then Heart’s Desire only pushes half the equation.” The lazy, liquid-sex grin returned. “One-sided isn’t a problem between us, lass. You want me as hard as I want you.”

She didn’t bother to deny it.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door and set her on her feet. Power flashed from his upraised hand, and the door flew open. He mimed a low, sweeping bow. “After you, Madam Witch.”

A shock ran through her. No one addressed her magic so directly, and she cast a furtive glance around to make sure no one had been within hearing range.

He shrugged. “You know what I am. I know what you are. Saves a lot of time—and explanations. Time we could be otherwise engaged.”

Aisha moved beneath the lintel. The feel of dragon shifter magic surrounded her, almost stifling in its intensity. She wanted to breathe it in, let it mingle with her power. The click of a door shutting sounded behind her.

Liam beckoned with a crooked finger and led the way through into a smaller room. Opening a closet, he pulled sleeping bags out of it and arranged them into a beckoning nest on the floor. Light glowed from power spilling through him. Breath hitched in her throat until it was tough to swallow.

She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted the dragon.

Lithe as a big jungle cat, he moved in front of her and unzipped her coat, dropping it on top of the piled sleeping bags. Running his hands from her shoulders to her waist, he hooked his fingers underneath her top and yanked it over her head, leaving her in her long underwear. Aisha didn’t need to glance down to know her nipples stood in stiff peaks, tenting the fabric of the last bit between her and her upper torso being naked.

“Christ, wench, how many layers of clothes do you need? ’Tis like being back in the Middle Ages where women wore so much, I never bothered to undress them. Took too long.”

Feeling bold, she dragged the silken long-sleeved top off and tossed her shoulders back, looking straight at him.

He made a uniquely male sound with overtones of bugling dragon before he dove at her, burying his face in her breasts. She shrieked at the feel of his mouth on her distended nipples. The need to feel all of him against her was overpowering as she tumbled them onto the cushy pile of down sleeping bags.