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  WITCH FOR THE WOLF

  ANNABELLE WINTERS

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  BY ANNABELLE WINTERS

  THE CURVES FOR SHEIKHS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Sheikh

  Flames for the Sheikh

  Hostage for the Sheikh

  Single for the Sheikh

  Stockings for the Sheikh

  Untouched for the Sheikh

  Surrogate for the Sheikh

  Stars for the Sheikh

  Shelter for the Sheikh

  Shared for the Sheikh

  Assassin for the Sheikh

  Privilege for the Sheikh

  Ransomed for the Sheikh

  Uncorked for the Sheikh

  Haunted for the Sheikh

  Grateful for the Sheikh

  Mistletoe for the Sheikh

  Fake for the Sheikh

  THE CURVES FOR SHIFTERS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Dragon

  Born for the Bear

  Witch for the Wolf

  Tamed for the Lion

  Taken for the Tiger

  THE CURVES FOR SHEIKHS SERIES (UK)

  Curves for the Sheikh (UK)

  Flames for the Sheikh (UK)

  Hostage for the Sheikh (UK)

  Single for the Sheikh (UK)

  Stockings for the Sheikh (UK)

  Untouched for the Sheikh (UK)

  Surrogate for the Sheikh (UK)

  Stars for the Sheikh (UK)

  Shelter for the Sheikh (UK)

  Shared for the Sheikh (UK)

  Assassin for the Sheikh (UK)

  Privilege for the Sheikh (UK)

  Ransomed for the Sheikh (UK)

  Uncorked for the Sheikh (UK)

  Haunted for the Sheikh (UK)

  Grateful for the Sheikh (UK)

  Mistletoe for the Sheikh (UK)

  Fake for the Sheikh (UK)

  THE CURVES FOR SHIFTERS SERIES (UK)

  Curves for the Dragon

  Born for the Bear

  Witch for the Wolf

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  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  Copyright © 2019 by Annabelle Winters

  All Rights Reserved by Author

  www.annabellewinters.com

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  Cover Design by S. Lee

  WITCH FOR THE WOLF

  ANNABELLE WINTERS

  1

  The witch Magda folded her arms across her slight chest and narrowed her eyes at the two-year-old twins. They stared right back at her, unafraid, unflinching. They weren’t scared. They were dragons. Years from their first transformation, yes. But still dragons.

  “That’s all right, little ones,” she said with a tight smile that drained the color from her lips. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I do not eat children. I am not that kind of witch.” She shrugged, winking at the wide-eyed children of the dragon and the bear. “But your grandpa . . . now he might want to eat you two for breakfast!”

  Magda giggled, a nervousness underlying her laughter as she slowly circled the room, her small feet making no sound on the cold sandstone floor. They were in a gigantic black-marble mansion built on a small oasis not far from the Syrian border. Technically they were in Iraq, but this part of the desert was so vast and open that borders meant nothing and a man could claim the land as his own without anyone batting an eyelid. And that was just what Murad had done decades earlier, slowly building mansions, castles, and palaces in strategic locations across his claimed kingdom—a barren kingdom of sand and rock, no life other than a few groves of desert palms surrounding the scattered oases.

  That’s when Magda had run into the older dragon, a man torn in two by his inability to control his beast. The hoarding instincts of the dragon had served him well—indeed, Murad had amassed great wealth and swaths of land over the centuries. But the rage of his dragon was fearsome, uncontrollable, too dangerous for Murad to even venture close to civilization. The man had recognized that he had the ability to destroy the world, and the only thing that had kept him from doing so was the realization that the dragon would lose his carefully hoarded wealth and riches if he destroyed the world!

  It was comical, really, Magda thought as she turned back to Murad’s gurgling grandchildren, the twin children of Adam and Ash, a boy and a girl, each of them watching her with those blazing eyes: a combination of the green, gold, and brown of their parents.

  Yes, it is comical, Magda thought as she continued to pace the room, waiting to make her next move, her anxiety rising. Murad was a caricature of a dragon when I met him—a deadly caricature but still a joke. It took my ambition to show him what he could achieve if his power were channeled, if his dragon was brought under his control. Under my control. But he feared his own dragon too much—hated his dragon even! He wanted me to kill his dragon with my magic!

  “Can you imagine?” she whispered to the children, shaking her head and smiling. “Grandpa wanted to kill the part of himself that was most powerful! It was only when I assured him I could suppress his Change with my magic that he agreed to join with me. And look where we are now! Building an army! On a path to rebuild the world from its own ashes! A world where children like you can spread your wings freely!”

  Magda hugged her bony shoulders and then stretched her arms out wide, her blood-red cloak flapping like wings in the warm desert breeze blowing through the large, unfurnished room. But Magda didn’t have wings. She didn’t fly. Not like dragons could, at least.

  “If only . . .” she whispered to the children as they stared at her, still innocent and unafraid even though they’d been separated from their parents. Magda cocked her head as she once again marveled at how calm and collected these children were. Did they not feel fear? Was she not a fearsome creature of darkness and evil?

  But she couldn’t even finish the sentence she’d begun. She could barely finish her own thought! With a shake of her head she lowered her arms and straightened out her gown, patting it down carefully around her tiny waist and slim buttocks. She strolled in front of the floor-standing mirror, one of the few items of furniture she’d had put in this mansion. Indeed, Magda loved mirrors. She loved to look at herself. Slim. Sleek. Smooth. It reminded her of what she’d felt as a child when she was only just discovering what she was, what she was capable of being, what she was destined to be.

  “It was a different kind of power I had back then,” she whispered to the children, admiring herself in profile as she nodded. “A different kind of magic. That was taken away from me, but I gained something else in the bargain. Now I can do anything. Be anyone.” She turned her head to the silent children, who still seemed inexplicably calm. “You want to see the real me? Yes? Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  The twins both grinned at the same time, each of them saying something that sounded like “Yes!” Magda grinned back, showing her gleaming white teeth that were still sharp and pointy, like it was the one thing that hadn’t changed about her when she’d lost that other kind of magic, that other part of who she was.

  “All right,” she whispered. “But don’t tell anyone, you hear? They’ll laugh at me. It’s hard to be a fearsome witch when you’re all round and cuddly. Hard angles work much better on a dark w
itch than a double-chin and a big ass.”

  Magda turned to the open balcony and sniffed the air. Caleb wasn’t close. It would be another day before he arrived. She was safe. No one would see her like this. No one would see her true self.

  With a trembling sigh Magda released herself from the magic that enveloped her night and day, a simple but powerful spell that she’d learned years ago. It took a moment for the spell to wear off, and Magda closed her eyes as she felt her body change, slowly regaining its natural shape, a shape she’d always hated.

  When she opened her eyes she could see that the children were transfixed. They were wide-eyed, both of them smiling in awe as if they were watching a magical cartoon. Magda smiled back, feeling her filled-out cheeks move as she finally turned back to that mirror and gazed upon her reflection.

  “Mirror mirror on the wall,” she whispered to the short, dark-haired woman staring back at her: a woman with a round face, wide hips, thick legs, and boobs and buttocks that pushed her robe to its limits. “Who’s the fattest witch of them all?”

  You are, she said to herself as she stared at the reflection and smiled. You are, Magda!

  “What?” she said to the kids, twirling her fat ass as she felt a strange relief pass through her, as if the magic she’d been using to change her appearance had been straining her from the inside, twisting her in a way that changed more than just her looks. “Why do you look so surprised, little ones? What’s the point of being a witch if you can’t use your magic to look thin? Am I right?”

  She laughed out loud as she paraded through the room, once again feeling an odd sense of freedom when she felt her boobs jiggle, her ass shudder, her thighs tremble. What was that feeling, she wondered as an image of Caleb suddenly flickered into her mind’s eye. Caleb the man. Caleb the warrior. Caleb the silent, solitary wolf-Shifter who’d fallen under her spell in a way she didn’t think was possible. It wasn’t easy to bring a Shifter under a spell, she knew. With humans it was easy. With animals it was simple. But with Shifters . . . yes, with Shifters it got complicated. You needed a way into their minds, into their souls, into their . . . hearts?

  Magda blinked as she felt her heart flutter, those images of Caleb ripping through her imagination in a way that made her uncomfortable, made her uneasy, made her . . .

  “No!” she muttered out loud as she felt the warmth rush through her curves. A feeling that she didn’t think was possible for her to feel. She closed her eyes tight, whispering the words of her spell as she tried to force the images of Caleb out of her mind—images of his lean, hard, soldier’s body, every muscle chiseled to perfection, tattoos covering his broad chest and thick arms, a back rippled with muscles so tight they looked like a pit of intertwined snakes, those high cheekbones, eyes blue like the ocean . . .

  Suddenly Magda’s eyes flashed blood red, and then the spell washed through her again, pushing away the warmth as her body once again shriveled down to the wire-thin frame of the witch inside, the witch she was, dark and dangerous, powerful and poisonous. This was who she was, she reminded herself as she felt the coldness of her dark magic roll through her, her bony fingers clenching like claws. That other woman was dead. That rosy-cheeked girl she’d once been was just a memory. They’d killed a part of her when she was too young and weak to resist, but in doing so they’d given this other part of her new life. This was who she was now, and this was her destiny.

  Yes, this is my destiny, she thought as she glided towards the balcony and surveyed the barren desert. She smiled as she imagined the world stretched out before her, a world remade in her own image, where the guilty paid for their sins. This is my destiny, my fate, my meant-to-be. Even if the legend of fated mates is true, it cannot be true for me. Not anymore. My path was altered when I was a child, and this is now my fate.

  This, not him.

  Not him.

  Never him.

  2

  “You!” said Murad, scowling down from his gold-plated, jewel-studded throne on a raised platform of shining white marble. “Why are you here without your handler, Wolf?”

  Caleb took a long, slow breath, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the self-proclaimed Sheikh Murad sitting on a throne like he was actually a king of more than just desert that no one gave a shit about. He felt his snout twist into a scornful grin as he shook his head. This was Adam Drake’s father, he reminded himself as he thought back to his time with Adam and Bart. The memories of that time were fleeting, hard to access, buried somehow. He could feel them inside, but he couldn’t quite access them fully. It was like part of his soul was covered in a blanket, locked behind a door, held back by a power he couldn’t quite understand.

  He was in wolf form, even though he had the power to Change back and forth at will now. Magda the witch had somehow given him that power—or at least awakened that power in him. Still, he liked to stay in wolf form when in Murad’s presence. He sensed it made the Sheikh uneasy, and Caleb liked to make the man uneasy. He’d never enjoyed taking orders from anyone, being a servant to anyone, a slave, a goddamn lap-dog! Hell, that was why he’d have never made it in the military, right? He was a lone wolf. A solitary soldier. Alone then. Alone now. Alone forever.

  “I have a message for you, Murad,” growled Caleb, his eyes glowing in a way that he knew was the witch’s power flowing through him.

  “Sheikh Murad,” said the tall, bearded man sharply, standing up from his throne and staring down at the wolf like he expected Caleb to cower. “You will call me Sheikh!”

  “Sheikh Drake?” said Caleb, grinning as he felt a rush of delight from how easy it was to rile up this asshole. “Got a nice ring to it. Sheikh Drake! Sheikh Drake! Shake a drake! Shake and bake!”

  Murad’s eyes flashed gold, his black robe shining with Magda’s magic. Caleb went silent as he reminded himself that this man was a dragon inside, a bundle of coiled-up rage. Caleb knew what it was like to go against a dragon—he and Adam had gone at it a few times back in the day when they were first put together in that three-person crew, all of them going at each other, testing each other’s strength like men did, like animals did. Caleb had understood the dragon’s strength when he’d seen Adam Change, seen the dragon overpower even Bart the Bear. He grinned as he thought back to the time he’d tried to get between Bart and Adam when it looked like their horsing around was going to get someone hurt if not killed. One swipe from the dragon’s tail and Caleb had been sent flying a hundred feet away! The guys had laughed their asses off that day! The Flying Squirrel, they’d called him. Shit, he’d been so pissed then! But now . . . now somehow the memory made him glow warm inside.

  “The witch has your grandchildren,” he said, reminding himself why he was here. Magda had sent him here, just like she’d sent him to kidnap Adam’s children after drawing the dragon away from his lair. Magda was in control of him, but yet it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it might. He enjoyed being around her. It gave him a strange energy that he sensed was not just magic—not that kind of magic anyway.

  Murad cocked his head like a bird and stared down at Caleb. “My . . . grandchildren? Adam’s children?” He blinked, drawing a slow, rasping breath as he rubbed his beard and began to pace. “The witch got to them?”

  “Technically I got to them,” said Caleb sharply. “And you’re welcome, Sheikh Drake.”

  “I did not thank you, Wolf,” said Murad. “A slave does not get thanked by his master. Remember that.” The Sheikh glanced towards the open balcony, his anxiety clearly rising as Caleb watched with glee. The old man was scared, wasn’t he. Scared that his son was going to fly in here, wings spread wide, maws open all the way, fire and vengeance screaming in with the hot desert wind.

  Again the Sheikh’s robe glowed with the dark magic holding back his dragon, and Caleb lost his grin and slowly began to back away. He understood why Magda had taken Adam’s children. She wanted Murad to unleash his dragon—unle
ash it and gain control over it: Something he’d never been able to do, perhaps never wanted to do.

  “Where are they?” Murad asked, taking deep gulping breaths as he pulled at his beard.

  “Far from here,” said Caleb. “Don’t worry, Sheikh Drake. Adam isn’t going to come flying in here. Not just yet, at least.”

  Murad snorted. “But he will come for his children. He did it once, and he will do it again. What does the witch expect to accomplish? She cannot control Adam with her magic. He will find her, and he will swallow her whole. I doubt the monster will even bother to crunch her bones when he eats her.”

  Caleb’s neck-hairs stood up straight at the thought of Adam roaring in and attacking Magda, those powerful jaws of the dragon crushing her body. For a moment he wanted to turn and run back to her, stand before her so he could face Adam, so he could protect the witch, protect his . . .

  Caleb frowned as he stopped himself from completing the thought. It was a thought that had come to him before, was coming to him more and more, especially when he was around Magda, when he could smell her scent, smell the woman in her. Sometimes her scent made him dizzy, whipping his senses into confusion, making him think that the witch was a facade, an illusion, that there was something hiding behind that thin, pale face, those dark, dead eyes. Something alive. Something warm. Something wonderful.

  Something his.

  “Kill them,” came Murad’s voice through Caleb’s swirling mind.

  “What?” said Caleb, a chill going through him when he saw the gold flash in Murad’s eyes.

  “You heard me,” said the Sheikh, turning away from Caleb. “The children are of no use to me. They are no more than a tracking device for Adam and his dragon. You might as well send him directions to my location. Kill them and be done with it.” He turned his head halfway and shrugged. “You can eat them if you like, Wolf. That’s what your kind does, right? Go on. You have my permission. Shoo, little doggy. Off to your mistress.”