His Wicked Desire

By Dawn Chartier

Brye Morgeaux is a half-witch, half-warlock who always relied on her beauty-especially when it came to men. After a run-in with a particularly vicious warlock, Brye's face is left scarred, forcing her to look to who she is on the inside. And what Brye finds is darker than anything she'd imagined...

Then she's handed a terrible ultimatum-join the warlock clan, or watch her family die.

Josh Copeland has known the Morgeaux family for years, and has been waiting for the time when Brye would see him as something-anything-more than a friend. As she battles darkness from within and without, he realizes the woman he loves might just be her own worst, wicked enemy. Now Josh must find a way to show Brye who she really is...before she kills him.

The Vieux Carré Witch Sister series is best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book #1 Bewitching the Enemy
Book #2 His Wicked Desire
Book #3 Forever Charmed

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Aug 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633753969

Book preview

He’s found himself a wicked witch…

Brye Morgeaux is a half-witch, half-warlock who always relied on her beauty—especially when it came men. After a run-in with a particularly vicious warlock, Brye’s face is left scarred, forcing her to look to who she is on the inside. And what Brye finds is darker than anything she’d imagined…

Then she’s handed a terrible ultimatum—join the warlock clan, or watch her family die.

Josh Copeland has known the Morgeaux family for years, and has been waiting for the time when Brye would see him as something—anything—more than a friend. As she battles darkness from within and without, he realizes the woman he loves might just be her own worst, wicked enemy. Now Josh must find a way to show Brye who she really is…before she kills him.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover the Vieux Carre’ Witch Sister series…

Bewitching the Enemy

Discover more paranormal romance titles from Entangled…

Protecting His Witch

Desiring a Demon

Beauty and the Werewolf

Her Fallen Protector

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Dawn Chartier. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Covet is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Suzanne Evans

Cover design by Louisa Maggio

Cover art from iStock

ISBN 978-1-63375-396-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition August 2015

I dedicate this book to my sister who has more strength and courage than any woman I know. Love you, sis.

Chapter One

For the first time in her life, Brye Morgeaux was no longer the prettiest sister. She was the ugly, scary one.

You got this, she said, inhaling deep, controlled breaths. It took everything she had to drive to the mall and walk into that store. Everything.

But she had to. She had to see if she could actually face people since the day it happened. The day the Warlock kidnapped her and ruined her life.

Inside and out.

Once at the makeup counter, she placed her hands on the cool glass top in an attempt to temper her erratic heartbeat. Steady…steady… Passing out would draw more attention than she could really handle at the moment. She slid a glance to her left and right. Not a soul noticed her. Good.

This isn’t so bad.

After she’d been searching for a foundation for a few seconds, a pretty blonde spotted her and made her way over. Brye’s palms broke out in a sweat. Unconsciously, she rubbed them on her jeans. Damn it, Brye, calm down. This wasn’t her usual salesperson, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing she wanted to do was make up more lies about what had happened. As if there was a good explanation why there was a deep gash on the side of her cheek with a bleach-white center and a dark pink outline. Not one that anyone would believe, anyway.

What can I help you with today? the salesclerk asked as she stopped dead in front of her, and her brows rose.

Brye’s chin lowered, her gaze meeting the saleswoman’s. You can do this, Brye. Stick to the plan. The blonde flinched before she quickly recovered with a fake smile.

Her shoulders slumped and deflated. She pulled her scarf higher, hiding the mark. Don’t ask for makeup to cover your scar. Just ask for cover-up. Simple. I need concealer or maybe some Derma—

I’m sorry, hon, but we don’t have anything that can help with your, um, blemish, the sales bitch said before she walked off in a hurry, glancing behind her nervously as though she didn’t want to catch whatever Brye had.

Brye’s jaw dropped. She didn’t…she did. Why the hell had she come here anyway? It was useless. She swallowed the sandpaper scratching inside her throat and dug her fingernails into her palms, painfully deep.

Before she turned to leave, a sweet, cheerful voice caught her attention, and she lowered her gaze, spotting a little boy inching next to her, holding his mother’s hand.

Forgetting the mark for a nanosecond, she smiled at the beautiful child. With those baby blues, he would break a few hearts one day.

At first, he smiled back, too, his gaze fixed on her face. What happened? He pointed.

The mother glanced down at her son. What, Ty? She patted his curly blond hair.

What happened to her, Mommy? the boy asked again.

Heat ignited Brye’s face as tears gathered, but no way in hell would she release them. If she did, they’d never stop.

A sympathetic look appeared in the woman’s eyes. Brye pulled her cap lower.

I’m so sorry, the mother offered as she picked the little boy up and eased away.

Her heart squeezed at the apology. She pulled her hair forward to hide her shame, but not before she heard giggling from a group of teenagers facing her direction.

I wouldn’t come out in public if I had that face, the tallest teenager teased as they walked past and then broke into laughter.

Drawing in a deep breath, she swallowed. Never in her life had she been treated like this. Had she ever been that cruel and shallow before? Shallow, yes, but never cruel. Not like that. At least, she didn’t think so.

Having endured enough torture for one day, she turned to leave and froze. Oh, God. Just when she’d thought this day couldn’t get any worse. Josh Copeland—her childhood best friend, still a friend of the family and the only architect who gave her family’s construction company a snowball’s chance in hell of survival, the only man who had ever pushed her away—stood with his mouth agape. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Josh held up a hand to wave.

Brye turned around and pretended not to notice him. She would be mortified—except she hated him now. Hate was a strong word, but since high school, something had changed between them. Now it was hard to be in the same room with him, let alone a business meeting—which happened at least once or twice a month. Every meeting turned into a pick on each other–fest. And now he’d witnessed her public humiliation. Fabulous. Something else to add to his arsenal.

Okay, maybe she didn’t hate him. Despise was a better word.

Why? Because he never gave you the time of day when you wanted him to.

She resigned herself to defeat and turned back around to face him. There was no use in hiding. He’d witnessed her mockery, but he’d already turned around and was talking to the other men gathered around him. He mouthed some words to one of them and handed over his drawings. Why was he here, anyway? Had he landed the mall renovation design project? If so, she hadn’t heard.

The men were dressed in expensive designer suits, all except for Josh. No matter how wealthy he’d become, he still had the worst taste in clothing—worn-out khaki pants and flannel shirts were his entire wardrobe, from what she’d seen.

His quicksilver-blue eyes caught hers, and she sucked in a breath. Why here—and today of all days?

Obviously walking the jobsite with his project team. Damn it.

She placed her hands on her hips and shot him her best leave me the hell alone look and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Brye, he called to her, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Hold on a sec. He sounded closer, gaining ground.

She made it outside, jumped in her car, turned on the engine, put it in reverse, and backed up.

BAM!

Oh, God! Brye slammed the brakes, shifted the car into park, and jumped out. Had Josh followed her all the way to her car? Shit. Josh lay sprawled on the ground, still as could be. Eyes shut.

Her heart froze and she dropped to her knees. Oh, God, Josh. She touched his cheek, and he opened his eyes.

Josh had to stop her. It had been a shock to see her today, and when he’d caught the hurt on her face after overhearing those bratty kids tease her, something inside him had willed him to run after her. From what he’d heard, Brye wasn’t doing well at all.

Basically, she’d turned into a hermit, hiding since the attack. He’d wanted to go and check on her, but then what would he say? The stubborn woman had no clue how he really felt about her, and she never would. Long ago, he’d gotten the message loud and clear—she wasn’t interested in his type. Hell, he didn’t even know he was a type. Were all architects labeled as something he wasn’t aware of?

Without thinking, he slammed his fist on top of her trunk when she pulled out of her parking spot and sprawled on the ground, pretending she’d run over him. When she rushed over and touched his cheek, warmth spread through him like being wrapped instantly in a heating blanket.

He opened his eyes. It’s not like you to run.

Concern turned quickly into anger when she realized what he’d done. I’m not running. She dropped her hand to her side and jumped to her feet. And are you out of your mind? I thought I killed you.

He stood. Brye fisted her hands by her sides. No doubt she wanted to take a swing, but when she didn’t, he knew this was not the Brye he’d known most of his life.

I wanted to see if you were okay, he said. You shouldn’t be driving while you’re upset like this. Let me take you home.

I don’t think so. She stood straight, her body rigid, and she lifted her chin. And the only thing I’m pissed at is you for pretending I hit you. She twisted around, moving back to her car door, but before she got in she added, "And if you don’t get out of my way this time, I will run your ass over. Not once. Twice."

Now that’s the Brye he knew. At least she appeared to have calmed down some, and the heaviness that sat in his stomach lightened. She started the car, glowering at him through her rearview mirror as she put the car back in reverse. He stepped to the side and waved his arm as though to tell her the coast was clear.

She flipped him off with her usual smug smirk, but when she thought he wasn’t watching, that’s when it showed the most. Pain cut deep in her eyes. The unbreakable Brye Morgeaux had been broken. Oh, hell. His performance hadn’t helped at all.

Minutes later, Brye pulled off to the side of the road and glanced at herself in the makeup mirror. She flinched at the ugly mark. There was no hiding the Warlock’s vengeance. It glowed like a friggin’ neon sign. Heat flushed through her. No more going out in public for a while. She just couldn’t handle it. Not yet.

She shoved the visor up. Today had been the most humiliating day of her life. And damn Josh for being there to witness her vulnerability. Her weakness. Her shame. And double damn him for pretending she’d hit him! The nerve.

Hadn’t he seen enough while she’d been in the hospital recovering from the attack? At least Josh thought it had been abduction by a human—he couldn’t know the truth. Not that he’d believe it, anyway. A few months ago, she’d never believe these things existed, either. No one except her family, other Witches, and the Paladins knew. She hadn’t recalled Josh being there at the hospital, but her sisters had told her he’d come and sit with her a few hours at a time. Since she’d regained consciousness, she hadn’t spoken to him or even seen him.

Her cell phone buzzed, pulling her from her pity me thoughts, and she quickly turned it off. She didn’t look to see who had called, but more than likely it was one of her sisters. They had probably received a call from dear old Josh telling them all about what had happened. Damn him. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know that she’d left her apartment for the first time other than going to her doctor appointments.

Damn it… She choked on an unwanted sob. With one hand on the wheel, she brushed the scar on her wrist with her thumb. The feeling of the rope rushed back to her, the ungodly scent of flesh burning. And the blood. So much blood.

You ruined everything, Warlock. She screamed and pounded on the steering wheel as rage overtook her. Everything. What do I have left to offer anyone? I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Even Josh had told her that in a heated argument a few years ago. The only reason your sisters offered you a partnership was because of your beauty. They know men can’t say no to you.

Damn Josh for planting that stupid thought. Sure, it was her job to wine and dine clients, but she’d liked to think it was because they liked what her company had to offer, and she was a great negotiator—not because of her looks.

Besides, there was one man who had said no. Maybe he’d forgotten all about it, but she hadn’t and never would.

She shook her head. It’s done. Put the pity party behind you and move on. She nodded once to herself and drove off, swearing to never leave home again. Stop being so dramatic. Accepting her new face wouldn’t happen overnight, but she vowed to do something. And the first thing she would do would be to donate every beautiful item she owned to charity—except her furniture, of course. What did she need designer shoes and purses for anymore? Baby steps. One day at a time.

She’d always assumed her designer clothing made people see her as powerful and smart, or maybe that was just an excuse to buy nice things. But if Josh was right, her looks were all she’d had going for her. Now it’s gone. Now people would only see the wounded Brye Morgeaux, the real Brye Morgeaux—but who was that?

Once she arrived at her building, she grudgingly climbed the five flights of stairs to her New Orleans condo instead of using the elevator, needing to burn off steam. Passing the window that neatly framed Lake Pontchartrain below, she hurried into her bedroom and shoved through her closet door.

A deep, long sigh escaped. She’d taken pride in building up her fashionable wardrobe. Stacks of designer shoes, dresses, and purses lined the closet from floor to ceiling. Thousands of dollars wasted.

She grabbed a step stool from the corner and yanked a satiny red blouse from the hanger. Silk shirts, expensive jeans, slacks, and dresses by top designers sailed through the air, landing in a jumble of bright colors and various textures on the carpet. Done with the hanging items, she reached for shoe boxes on the top shelf and yanked a stack down.

Pounding sounded at the front door. Ignore it. They’ll go away.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Brye, I know you’re home. Open the damn door, Storm yelled.

She squeezed her lids shut. You have a big mouth, Josh. Why can’t they leave me alone? She opened her eyes and threw her favorite Kenneth Cole nude heels to the floor.

Get your panties out of your ass and hold on a sec, she yelled. Cursing under her breath, she stepped off the stool, marched into the living room, and yanked open the door.

Where the hell have you been? Her sister Storm burst past her. I’ve been calling and calling.

I didn’t hear it ring. Because she’d turned it off.

You didn’t answer my question.

I was at Lacie’s Department Store.

Storm threw her arms around her and squeezed the life out of her. The type of hug that said Storm knew the hell Brye had just been through. But she didn’t want this hug right now. Hugs could make her crumble, and she was so not doing that. Not now.

That was an hour ago. Storm released her and stepped back. You okay? Josh called the office. Her stare pried, searching for pain Brye wouldn’t let her see.

Anger, on the other hand, she would. I knew he’d call. He’s a thorn in my side and needs to mind his own damn business. If only she could ask her sister to rewind time so she never got out of her car. But then Storm would know how bad it had upset her.

He’s worried, Storm said, then hugged her once more. I’m sorry, sis. Those kids shouldn’t be allowed out in public.

No. I shouldn’t be out in public. Why? They didn’t bother me. But Josh did. You tell him I said he’s an asshole for calling y’all and making you worry for nothing. She folded her legs beneath her as she sunk into the navy blue plush sofa, grabbing an oversize pillow to cover her lap. I’m fine. It’s no big deal. There was no way she would tell her sister that it had been worse than she’d dreamed it would be and she could never go back to Lacie’s ever again.

Storm’s brows lowered as she frowned. It’s a first step, and I’m proud of you. Did you get what you went after?

Yes, Brye lied.

Really? Storm folded her arms. And you don’t want to show it off. What’s up with that?

Why are you really here?

Storm dropped her butt on top of the crate-style coffee table. With the motion, dust from her khaki pants and polo shirt floated in the air. She must’ve come straight from the jobsite. Storm tightened her auburn ponytail and cleared her throat.

Oh, joy. Here it comes.

Mainly to check on you, but I’ve been meaning to come talk to you. I need you to come back to work. Dusti isn’t the best PR person, as you know, and Rose is too busy volunteering at the animal shelter. And I don’t have time to entertain clients and do my job, too.

Was she insane? She couldn’t be around people yet—especially not alone. They wouldn’t know what to make of her constantly glancing over her shoulders, searching for any signs of the man who’d kidnapped her. She just wasn’t ready.

Cut it out! You will survive this.

Brye glanced at her mother’s repaired necklace around Storm’s neck, the one that had housed their powers…back when things were normal. How’s Mom? she asked, changing the subject.

Find out for yourself. She keeps asking about you. Storm paused, no doubt holding in her real thoughts. And Dad could use a break. It’s been too long. Time you get back to normal.

Her stomach knotted. Normal? Would she ever be normal again? No. Still, it was past time she visited her mom.