Hell grant her one wish. What if she wishes for him?
When Moira Connor stumbles across a jewel-encrusted silver trinket in the desert, she plans to trade it for food. Then the brush of her fingers unleashes a surprise.
Freed from the lamp, Boone is bound to the woman who called him with her touch. She has one day to make a wish before he disappears forever. But Moira lives in the ruins of a world destroyed by witches. She hates magiceven when it comes in the shape of a dazzlingly gorgeous djinn. Will the exquisite pleasure of Boones caresses be enough to earn Moiras trust? And will Moira be able to save Boone from the malevolent creature who would possess him?
LAUREN HAWKEYE is a writer, yoga newbie, knitting aficionado and animal lover who lives in the shadows of the great Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada. Shes older than she looksreallyand younger than she feelsmost of the timeand she loves to explore the journeys that take women through life in her stories. Hawkeyes stories include erotic historical, steamy paranormal, and hot contemporary.
Awaken to Pleasure
Lauren Hawkeye
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MILLS & BOON
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For Suzanne Rock, without whom I could not write.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up Awaken to Pleasure! This story is a bit of a departure from the books that I normally write, in which the creatures that go bump in the night are a secret from all of humanity. For this story, I tried to create a world in which the existence of supernaturals isnt hidden. The result was a place where humans were no longer the dominant speciesand where even in a world where witches are commonplace, there can still be surprises for the heroine.
I hope you will enjoy Boone and Moiras story! I love to hear from my readers, and can be contacted through my website, www.laurenhawkeye.com
Best,
Lauren
Table of Contents
Cover
Back Cover Copy
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Copyright
Prologue
Fifteen Years Ago
Moira Connor remembered the fire.
The dark sky, the ash that rained down, soft and hot, choking her with every breath until she wanted to rip open her own throat, just to get some blessed relief.
The fire had been all consumingthe unnatural emerald and amethyst flames devouring everything in its path. Its light had all but blinded her as she cowered in the corner of what had once been an alley between buildings.
The entire city of Jackson was being annihilated by the fire.
But she hadnt been blind enough to miss seeing what had been done to her parents. The witches had burned them alive, right before her eyes, and Moira hadnt been able to save them. Hadnt even tried, because she been so paralyzed by fear that shed run.
Not that she could have done anything. She knew that now, and yet it haunted her every waking momentand sometimes the sleeping ones as well.
It was guilt of the survivor. But she should have died with them. And the only reason she hadnt was because of a mana man with a pair of bright blue eyes.
If she ever found that man, she would kill him. Moira would rather be dead, after all.
Instead, she was still alive when, numb with grief, she and the other survivors of what the world had come to call the Great Witch War struggled to pick up the pieces of their existence, to save the last of their race. She scavenged on the streets, seeking out bits of treasure to barter for food while those who were able tried to protect their kind from the witches who would leach the energy from every last one of them.
And now she was a prisoner in one of these shelters. Those who lived in the enclosed villages called them havens, but she knew better.
They were prisons. Incarceration for those who had done nothing more than act on the basic human instinct to survive.
And so Moira existed, helping those who couldnt help themselves as a way of making amends to the parents she hadnt helped. And all the time, she dreamed of the man who had saved her life. Over the years, her hatred for the witches slowly bled over until it focused entirely on him. Why had he let her live but not saved her parents?
It was because of him that she was still here, trapped in the numbness of her grief.
Because of him she could commit the most cardinal sin of the survivorsshe could kill. Kill him.
The kicker of it all?
She wouldnt even know him if she saw him. For all she remembered was the color of his eyes.
Chapter One
Present Day
The late-afternoon sun glinted off the sand surrounding the haven village of Mavi, causing temporary blindness even as it mercilessly made sweat flow. Moira squinted against the glare, wishing that she had brought her goggles, but months of living in the cool comfort of Mavi had softened her once keen instincts for survival. While she had remembered to wear a hood to protect her tender scalp, her goggles had remained, likely buried at the bottom of the box that held all reminders of her former career as a treasure hunter.
Well, it was her own damn fault. Her destination wasnt far, after all, and if she hurt herself on the way, she had no pressing matters to attend to that would intrude upon her healing. Not anymore, not since she and all other humans had been forced to close themselves in the dome-covered villages that were their only protection against the dark magic that had taken over the world.
Plus, that was just what she did. She took care of the humans who couldnt do so for themselves. And she knew why she did it, but didnt care to think on the matter overmuch.
It seemed silly, really, to go to so much trouble for a sack of rice, but the tiny store located within the dome of Mavis haven had been running low, and there were others who needed it, others who couldnt venture out onto the now barren plains of Mississippi to get it. And it was no skin off of her back, after allnot unless she ran into a witch. But those with magic ventured onto the plains even more rarely than humans did nowthey had little need to, after all.
Almost there. Just a few more steps and she could step into the relative cool of Gales Groceries, the only building for miles in No Mans Land. It was run by a man who was neither human nor witch, but something else entirelyshed never asked what.
Ouch! Stepping on something that protruded out of the sand, Moira went down on all fours, hard. Cursing loudly, she rubbed her right ankle, which had taken the brunt of the fall, before turning to glare at the item that had made her trip. It was a tarnished silver bottle of some sort, or a lamp, and it looked old. Set deeply on one side, surrounded by delicate engravings, was a deep blue sapphire gem that glinted brighter than all of the tiny grains of sand put together. Moiras annoyance quickly turned to curiosity. Even though it was pretty, she suspected the trinket had no real value, but it might pay for her sack of rice. If she could trade this shiny little bottle for food instead of spending some of her hard-earned and well-hoarded coin, then she would. So she tucked the object into the long folds of her cloak and staggered the remaining few feet to the store, stumbling a bit on her now slightly twisted ankle.
Hiya, Moira. Gale Grocer, the owner of the store, greeted Moira as she entered the tiny shack. Though Gale was always friendly enough to her, there was something about the reedy little man, with his oiled black hair and his nervous twitch, that didnt sit quite right in her gutsomething beyond the lizard-like tail that slithered on the floor behind him.
But she had braved the plains to buy goods, not to make friends, so she figured the man selling them was of no concern to her.
What can I do ya for?
She ignored the deliberate entendre in the mans greeting, though she inwardly shuddered.
Moira liked sex. She liked it a lot. But shed stick to humans.
A drink of water would be great, for starters, she told him tartly, shifting her weight to relieve the pressure on her ankle. And a sack of rice. Thats it.
Gales face fell a bit beneath the pencil-thin mustache that Moira imagined he shaped painstakingly in front of a mirror every morning. Rice? Thats it? He filled a clay cup with grayish water from a bucket and passed it over the counter. What you coming all the way out here to get rice for? Dont they got any in that fancy store over in that haven village of yours? He leered a bit and Moira knew that he was flattering himself, thinking that shed come all this way to get a look at him. She struggled to keep from wrinkling her nose in distaste and instead gulped at the slightly stale-tasting water.
I have my reasons, she informed him flatly, with no intention of revealing what those reasons were. Just give me the rice, Gale.
The man pressed his lips together sourly and hauled the woven sack onto the counter with a grunt. It bore an upside-down pentagram, a mark that made Moira shudderthis rice had been supplied by the witches rather than grown under a dome. That fact alone almost made her refuse it.
They all hated the witches for stealing what had once been their world, but not all of them had seen firsthand what horrors they were capable of.
The younger ones, the childrenthey had no idea. And Moira would do everything in her power to make sure that it stayed that way.
Her fingers curled over the coarsely woven bag, a shudder passing through her as she imagined tendrils of dark power woven right into the bag, grown right into the food.
She wanted to refuse the rice provided by those who had murdered her family.
But those same innocent children had mouths to feed. Bellies that could be filled with this rice.
Thatll be five coppers for the rice, and a tin for the water. Gales expression dared her to challenge his charge on the water, which any decent soul would have provided as a courtesy, but Moira said nothing. She had no wish to prolong the encounter. Where she once would have yanked him over the counter and squeezed his throat tight, just to prove a point, the relatively newfound peace in her life helped to calm her instant rage.
It was now enough just to know that she could.
So she reached into her cloak, intending to pull out the bottle that she had found only minutes before. Gale wouldnt know that it was worthless, and was dumb enough, even, to think that hed be getting the better end of the deal. But for reasons that she couldnt explain, she found herself hesitating as her fingers brushed over the smooth metal, the surprisingly cool bump of the sapphire. If shed believed in such things, shed have sworn that she felt an odd surge of energy tingle through her fingers as they rubbed over the stone.
That was nonsense, of course, and so she dismissed the notion. But still, against her better judgment, she reached for her coin sack and withdrew the money.
She could always trade the sapphire-studded bottle later, someplace else.
So long, Gale. Moira hoisted the sack onto her back. She thought if she went slowly, she could make it back home without causing any further damage to her ankle.
Thats it? You aint gonna stick around and give me some company? The leer returned on Gales overemphasis of the word company, and Moira gagged inwardly. It seemed that her gut feeling toward the slimy little lizard man had been dead-on, for now it seemed that he intended to drop all pretense and become completely creepy.
Give company to a man who charged me five coppers for a two-copper bag of rice? And a tin for a damned drink of dirty, warm water? Forgive me for not jumping at the offer, sexy though that tail of yours is. Fixing a ferocious sneer onto her face, she swept out of the ramshackle hut with as much dignity as her wounded ankle would allow her.
And, for the second time that day, fell down onto the sand.
Oh, for heavens sake! she exclaimed, shoving at the hard body of the man shed run straight into, the man whose body had become tangled with hers during the short tumble to the ground. Get off of me!
Instead the stranger raised himself up onto his elbows and looked down at her, even as he disentangled his fingers from her long locks. Her first thought was to search frantically for the bright red pentacle under his ear that would have marked him as a witch. Her secondas she squirmed beneath the surprisingly unyielding male fleshwas that here was man she wouldnt mind keeping company with. His hair was bright as the sun, and his eyes were as blue as the sapphire on the bottle in her cloak.