Witch Fire by Anya Bast Page B

deal.”
    â€œCrane’s wife never went warlock. She committed suicide. His son left to live with his aunt at age ten, and Crane adopted another little boy, one with qualities he could nurture and mold.”
    â€œHe lost his heir so he obtained another. So Crane’s biological—”
    â€œYou likely know the adopted son,” he interrupted. “His name is Stefan Faucheux.”
    She gasped. “Stefan Faucheux?” He was always in the society pages, a darling of the media. The man was wealthy, gorgeous, and always seemed to have a movie star on his arm.
    Stefan Faucheux’s story was famous because it was such a compelling rags-to-riches one. As a child he’d run away from France’s protective services, preferring to live on the streets. One day billionaire W. Anderson Crane had come across him and adopted him.
    W. Anderson Crane…William Crane.
    She closed her eyes, realizing she knew exactly who Crane was. She hadn’t made the connection before. Her parents’ murderer had been staring at her out of the pages of magazines and newspapers her whole life.
    Jack nodded. “Crane found him in Paris. He did a good job raising him. Stefan is a powerful witch, loyal to Crane as far as we can tell, but still deadly ambitious. So you see why it’s important for you to train your magick. Crane and Faucheux have more than just magickal power, they have real-world power, too.”
    â€œIf I want to keep my soul attached to my body, I understand I need to control my abilities, Jack. I thought you were supposed to help me learn.” Mira gave a melodramatic sigh. “But since I’m all sexy and you can’t resist me, I guess I’ll have to wait.”
    He took the cup away from her and set it on the coffee table. Then he nestled his warm palm between her breasts. Mira’s breath caught in her throat, her amusement abruptly gone. Her magick instantly responded to his touch, flaring in her chest.
    Her body reacted, too, flaring in places further down.
    She licked her lips nervously. “Uh, Jack?”
    â€œCan you feel it there inside you?”
    She nodded. “I felt it when I made my offering just now, too.”
    He held her gaze while he spoke. “Your magick is powerful and you are an intelligent witch. You’ll learn how to wield this sooner than you think.”
    Jack removed his hand. Her skin felt cold with the absence of his touch. She rested back against the couch, and her magick withdrew, coiling back into her center. Mira willed the last remnant to stay, and it did. It sat there inside her like a little warm fuzzy, relaxing her.
    He picked up his cup and took a drink. Mira noted that his hand was shaking just a little. “Tell me about Annie.”
    Jack listened to her ramble on about her godmother, her childhood, even about Byron Richards. He seemed interested, and she talked until fatigue overtook her and she fell asleep there on the couch.
    The last thing she remembered was Jack gently lifting her and tucking her into his bed.

    M IRA SAT IN THE LIVING ROOM, PRESSING A HAND to the place between her breasts.
    Jack’s kiss, touch, his presence, his fire…something about him had awakened her magick. But it had been Mira who’d willed it to stay instead of recede.
    Now, it was an ever-present warm glow, reminding her that all she’d ever thought was true about her reality…wasn’t. It reminded her that she was more than she’d ever thought she was, and not quite human. Despite these uncomfortable truths, she’d grown used to its presence. It was a part of her, a constant companion.
    She felt compelled to let it free from its prison inside her. The compulsion had been growing steadily. It was almost as though the power needed to be bled off.
    Mira knew there had to be a way for her to access that magick on her own, without Jack’s fire to draw it out, she just wasn’t sure how to do it.
    Jack