Heart Mates by Mary Hughes Page A

opened her third eye, because of the way she’d sealed off her magic, her head tingled unpleasantly. She gritted her teeth and pushed through it. It’d only get worse.
    With her third eye focused, she lifted her physical lids and scanned the store.
    A red ring pulsed where the mushroom had been, Aunt Linda’s version of a theft-reporting device. Too bad Auntie hadn’t put a locater spell on the thing—or on herself.
    The doorway was tinged bright yellow-red. Someone had gotten an extreme shock here, enough for the emotion to bleed onto the etheric. The thief? Or Auntie?
    Sophia’s head started throbbing. The eye was taking its toll. She didn’t have all day. She started walking the store.
    Jagged skid marks lit the air, evidence of a cast spell. Frowning, she stopped.
    Magic potential couldn’t be seen, which was why even a witch couldn’t reliably tell another witch on sight. But actual magic was visible, both in a thing like an amulet, or as it was cast. A thrown spell left traces of its path.
    This skid was from a spell—and it was fresh. Last night or night before. Strange. Auntie was single-element. She didn’t often throw spells because of the fast power drain, preferring potions and amulets which drew over time.
    So who had thrown the spell? And who was the victim?
    Sophia narrowed her focus. It gave her a headache, like squinting too long, but she was able to tell by the jagged nature of the skids that the spell was a hex. Not good.
    Her hands started aching, bone-deep. She followed the skids. Before the hex hit the victim, it had hit a glass case of pictures. She bent and peered inside. Scratch that. It had hit her picture.
    Her heart started misfiring. She knocked a fist into it. It hiccupped and caught. Her time was running out. The skid made a V. She followed the trace to a cloth-draped piece of furniture—from the shape, a freestanding full-length oval mirror.
    She reached for the cloth to uncover it.
    An etheric eye as big as a house zoomed in on her. One searches for Noah .
    Her heart stuttered. A second eye, behind the first, lanced into her. One hunts him .
    She clamped her third eye shut and completely cut her connection to the etheric.
    Too late. She fell to her knees, dizzy, gasping, hands clutched to her chest. Her whole body felt weak and fluttery.
    Her last impression before she lost consciousness was King, yapping frantically and licking her face.

Chapter Eight
    She was Sleeping Beauty, her prince kissing her awake. Sweet and coaxing, lips smooth, enticing… hot and wild …
    Sophia’s brain came online. That wild taste didn’t belong to a fairy-tale prince. It was Noah .
    She was on the floor, on her back. His strongly muscled body was hard and heavy atop hers. It felt like heaven. She sighed in pleasure. This was what it would feel like, waking up to him every morning.
    Well, except for the being on the floor bit.
    Unless he liked things kinky. At the thought, she wriggled happily.
    Something in Noah’s big body changed at that. Heated red-hot. It reminded her that this wasn’t a mere dream prince kissing her, but a wilder royalty, more dangerous and elemental.
    His hand slid behind her head, clasping her nape. She’d felt a dozen guys do that, but with Noah it was different. As if, instead of fingers, hot teeth closed on her neck, to hold her firmly in place for pounding sex.
    Lust gushed through her at the thought.
    He sucked in a long breath, groaned and drove his tongue deep into her mouth.
    She moaned and opened to him, both lips and legs. Gravity did the work, bringing his hot torso nestling between her spread thighs, warming, then scorching her sensitive flesh.
    It’d be even better skin-to-skin.
    She slid a hand between them to fumble with her slacks. His fingers came to help. Strong yet nimble, they made quick work of her fastenings, and soon he was easing her pants and panties down the curve of her hips.
    He nipped along her jaw to her throat. She could almost feel the