The Lost Witch Series Bundle

If the ABI finds me, I’m dead.

Agent or not, when your dad is the head of the most notorious arcane crime family in the country, no one believes you when you say you didn’t open that gate to Hell on purpose.

Now, I’m practically glued under enough null wards to hide a god and stuck with a stupidly sexy shifter of a jailer who hates my guts.

When my former employer comes sniffing around, not only does he keep me alive, but we find out that our pasts are far more connected than either of us realize.

And the lies we’ve been told could kill us both.

The Lost Witch complete series includes Curses & Chaos and Hexes & Hijinx. If you enjoy fated mates, enemies-to-lovers shifter romance, this is the series for you.

My mama always said I’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That just showed what she knew. I seriously doubted when Mama was spouting the merits of honey and bees that she had murder in mind or was living in a world made of chaos. There was also a pretty good chance Mama hadn’t been in the middle of a black magic spell to steal a boatload of power and damn the consequences, either.

Then again, she married my daddy, so anything was possible.

The spell I was in the middle of was a whole mess of vinegar, exactly zero honey, followed up by a little sewage for flavor.

You can do this, girl. Just breathe. This is the last one.

Internal pep talks were one thing, but there was little that could make me feel good about the dark magic I was polluting my veins with or what I would have to do next.

Two and a half years ago, an Unseelie Prince closed every single Fae gate in the world. Most cities were fine, the Fae populace so scant it had barely been a blip. Places like Savannah? It was bad. The Fae couldn’t go home, couldn’t see their families, couldn’t access most of their magic. They turned feral—attacking any arcaner they could steal power from.

And worse?

My best friend was stuck on the other side of one of those stupid gates, trapped in the Unseelie realm with a king that wanted her magic for his own.

Wren Bannister was the only person on this planet that never looked down on me for being a Jacobs witch. Never gave me shit for my family or what my daddy did for a living. She’d saved my ass from certain death. She’d looked for me when no one else would. She never quit on me. And I’d be damned if I would ever stop looking for her—not until she was found, or I died trying.

It had taken a while, but we managed to find the prince responsible—not that finding him did a lick of good. It didn’t matter that I’d trapped him in a cage so perfect that no one—especially my bosses—could sense him. It didn’t matter that I’d crafted weapons especially for him—filled with magic, sweetening, and everything else I could think of to get him to break.

Nearly a year straight of interrogations and torture, and bargaining hadn’t made a dent. He wouldn’t cave. And if I didn’t want the Alpha of one of the largest shifter packs in the South to lose his fool mind, I was going to have to do some things a fuck of a lot more drastic than I’d already done.

But the Acosta pack had taken me in, given me shelter when shit went sideways, and my best friend just so happened to be married to their Alpha. Getting his wife back to him had been at the top of my to-do list for every second she’d been gone.

And if the idiot prince in the Acosta dungeon wouldn’t break, then I’d just have to break him myself.

The hard way.

The problem with the hard way? It had a bunch of consequences—ones only I would pay.

Swallowing hard, I tried to suck in a breath as I timed my steps just right.

This is the last one. 

No coven in Savannah would help us. Trust me, I’d asked. No. I’d begged. My superiors, my contacts, anyone I could. No one would lift a finger to put an end to this. They didn’t care that the Fae were stuck or that they were stealing magic from regular arcaners who’d never done anything to anyone. They didn’t care that Savannah was changing for the worse day after day.

The ABI didn’t give a shit, the witches couldn’t give that first fuck, and the arcane community was at a standstill.

And I was trying to be good. Where I’d come from, what I’d done before I joined the Arcane Bureau of Investigation… I was trying not to be that person anymore. I’d done everything I could to not be the Jacobs Coven darling. To not be the enforcer my father made me to be, to not…

Someone once said that I was better than what my father made me to be—that I was better than him. Damn if I wasn’t proving her wrong.

But there was no one to help, so I’d just have to do it myself.

I needed twelve deaths to get enough juice—twelve witch deaths, to be exact. A coven’s worth of power was the only way I was going to be able to do this alone. I’d killed eleven people for this spell—a spell that made me no better than my daddy. That made me just as evil and debased as he had always wanted me to be.

Eleven. 

And I needed one more. One more, and then I could take that Fae bastard’s power. I could open the gates myself. Maybe not all of them, but I could open one. I could get Nico his wife back—my best friend back.

And then… then I’d…

Okay, so there wasn’t a plan past opening the damn gate. If I stayed breathing after that, I’d wing it. I was good at that.

But it was one thing to kill in the name of self-defense. I’d done that before plenty of times. It was quite another to be combing files I only had access to as an agent for the Arcane Bureau of Investigation to pick out just the right targets. The ones with power, the ones with a dark past, the ones that had bought their way out of trouble. The ones that had gone free when they shouldn’t have.

The ones that needed killing.

That was one thing I could say for myself. At least I was taking out the trash while doing something awful. It was more than my daddy could ever say.

Initially, I’d thought I’d do the world a favor and start picking off the Bannister clan. Wren’s family was the worst. The problem was that the Bannisters had practically fallen off the map, hiding where no one could find them—not unless I wanted to break down their damn door.

So I’d combed the case files, looking for the worst I could find. And I found them all right.

All I needed was this last one, and I’d be done. I just had to not die in the process.

Mitchell Rhodes was a Rhodes Coven lieutenant—not that the Rhodes Coven was much nowadays. Almost extinct, they had damn near been run out of Savannah after some mysterious deaths. The ABI files told a different tale. Mitchy-boy was not just a murderer. He was a harasser, abuser, and a rapist. The only thing that had kept him out of prison was a very important friend on Savannah’s Arcane Council and two cousins in the ABI.

I’d love to say that the ABI was any better than the human side of things, but I’d be lying my pretty little ass off.

One thing left out of the ABI files? Mitchell loved carousing human strip joints, abusing the employees, and then wiping just enough of their minds for them to know they were hurt but not be able to tell who’d done it. And if I timed my steps just right, I’d stop him in the act just this once.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A rumble sounded from the dark recess of the doorway to my right, a familiar voice that should in no way be here. The athame in my hand was at Theo Acosta’s gut before I ever really gave it the command to move.

Theo Acosta was the biggest pain in my ass, but unfortunately, I couldn’t get rid of him. As second in command of the Acosta pack, Theo had been in my business since the day we’d met. I’d managed to avoid him while in the middle of my little murder spree, but if he was here, the jig was up.

“I’m looking for a job,” I quipped, tilting my head to the side like I was a little soft in the noggin. I mean, we were in a strip club, after all. “The ABI can’t pay all the bills, you know.” That was a bald-faced lie, but given my glamour and outfit, it sure as shit looked like the truth. How he could see through said glamour was a little concerning, but I couldn’t think about that right then.

He gripped my wrist as he plucked the blade from my fingers like he was taking it away from a toddler, moving into the harsh illumination of the club’s neon mood lighting. He’d gotten a haircut since I’d seen him last. His usual shoulder-length black locks were cropped close to his head in the back and left a little longer in the front, highlighting his strong jaw and fabulous cheekbones.

It suited him, the bastard.

I’d never met someone so pretty and so shitty all at the same time.

“Bullshit, Jacobs. You’re up to something.” The green of his wolf lit in his eyes, showing me just how pissed off he was. “You’re always up to something.”

In two and a half years, Theo hadn’t trusted me one bit—not that I’d given him a reason not to. He had some kind of beef with all witches—Wren excluded—so him warming up to me just wasn’t going to happen. The rest of the Acostas loved me. Mari and I painted our nails together. Dayana and I shared dessert recipes. And his mama? She adored me.

But Theo? No such luck.

“Of course I’m up to something, you dope. I’m trying to get enough power to break the Fae in your dungeon, or did you forget about him while you were being so judgy? So why don’t you go home, mind your business, and I’ll get the answer to all our problems, mm-kay, Pumpkin?”

Those green eyes narrowed to slits as his jaw solidified. “Eleven witches are missing, Jacobs. No one has found the bodies, but I know they’re dead. You planning a takeover? Expanding the coven for dear, old daddy?”

I ripped my wrist from his hold as well as the blade. “No, you moron. I’m getting enough power to make that Fae do what we need him to do before Nico decides to get himself killed. How many packs would love to take over Savannah, hmm? Five? Ten? And how well will your pack fare without a true Alpha when they come? How long do you think Nico will hold on without Wren?”

“Bull—”

The tip of my athame was at his throat in a blink. “No coven will help me—help us,” I hissed. “And no, I didn’t ask my daddy for help because the last thing we need is Josiah Jacobs in Savannah.” My father had pretty much taken over most of Tennessee and all of Kentucky. His fingers were in all the pies, he’d greased all the palms, and his hold was ironclad. Georgia would be next on his list if he even got a whiff of instability in Savannah.

I removed my blade and stepped back, my gaze drifting to the door where Mitchell Rhodes was about to lose his life. “This is the last one, and then I can… I can…”

My stomach churned. I associated dark magic with what I assumed a heroin addiction might feel like, you know, without all the high bits and keeping all the withdrawals. My bones hurt. I couldn’t make myself eat anything. I was tired every second of every day. Breathing was a challenge. The likelihood I’d survive after this was damn near nil. But I wasn’t going to tell Theo that.

I’d never tell Theo that. The fucker would probably throw a damn parade.

“In case you were wondering, the man I plan on taking out is a rapist and an abuser. They all were. I didn’t take anyone innocent.” I hadn’t wanted to take anyone at all. I hadn’t—

Theo inhaled a sharp breath through his nose, a low growl building in his chest. “Fine, but watch yourself. This better not blow back on us, you got me?”

By “us,” he meant the pack, and no matter what I’d done or how I’d helped, in his mind, that would never include me. Try as I might to ignore them, the words still stung. Two and a half years under Nico’s protection, and Theo didn’t think of me as anything other than a nuisance that helped occasionally. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d probably throw me off the closest cliff and be done with it.

And as if I would be so careless as to let anyone take the fall for my crimes. No, I was taking the brunt of the consequences on this one. As I should. If my wards had been better—if I would have protected Wren more—we wouldn’t be here right now. She’d be safe, and I wouldn’t…

Be a murderer? Don’t lie to yourself, girl. You were living in the grey long before you started down this road.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the insidious voice in my head that had the audacity to tell the truth. “That’s the plan.” At Theo’s resolute nod, I took a step away. “What? No lecture on how killing is wrong?”

Theo huffed, turning his back on me as he started down the hall. “That would make me a hypocrite, don’t you think?”

Yeah, it probably would. Theo was no stranger to spilling blood. It was just usually at the end of his claws.

Well, I didn’t have claws, so I’d just have to use what I could.

I watched Theo’s back as he sauntered down the hall and out of sight, annoyed that he was working that suit for all it was worth.

Pretty but shitty, thy name is Theo.

Gritting my teeth, I slipped into the last room on the right where Mitchell was playing with his latest victim. According to the girls I’d spoken to, he started out tame as a pussycat before he pounced. Right then, his arms were stretched out along the back of the couch as a petite brunette slowly slipped out of her bra.

It seemed like I’d caught him just in time.

Waving my hand, I turned up the sweetening spell I’d perfected in my teen years as I slowly undid the buttons of my coat. Underneath was acres of pale skin and a skimpy emerald lace set. My glamour had me as a busty redhead with a rack that could be seen from space. I’d even changed my face a little, sharpening my nose and filling out my cheeks a bit to stave off that gaunt, dark magic look that was making eating a challenge. And Mitchell’s eyes were exactly where I wanted them: on my overly inflated boobs.

“Well, look at what we have here,” my mark muttered as he widened his lips into an oily smile. “And it ain’t even my birthday.”

More like your death day, but who’s counting?

Tilting my head to the side, I twirled a finger in my hair and bit my lip. “Oh, no, Sugar. The pleasure’s all mine.”

The dancer in between us shot me a confused look. Well, confused and a little pissed. I was horning in on her dance, but she didn’t know what I was saving her from. Catching her hand, I yanked her to me and turned us so Mitchell wouldn’t see me whispering in her ear.

“You want to leave this room,” I murmured, turning up that sweetening spell so high it was possible she’d walk out of this room and never return.

She stumbled back, catching herself on her skyscraper heels before sweeping out of the room like her life depended on it. Funnily enough, it did.

“Hey, wait just a damn minute he—” Mitchell groused, but his tune changed as soon as I planted my ass onto his lap. He enjoyed one solitary second of my ass in his hands before my athame was at his throat.

Unlike Theo, Mitchell didn’t have the skills or instincts to realize when he was in trouble, couldn’t smell it on the air, or read it in my smile. And I wouldn’t give this man the chance to change his circumstances. He didn’t so much as gurgle before his throat was sliced from ear to ear, the blood draining out of him in a flood of scarlet.

Bile raced up my esophagus as I smeared the hot blood across his face, murmuring the dark magic spell that would lend me his power.

This is the last one. 

Oily strands of magic lifted from his rapidly cooling skin, slamming into me with a force that knocked me off his lap. My blade went flying, and I struggled not to vomit all over the commercial carpet floor that was likely filled with a whole host of nasty things.

This is the last one. 

Gritting my teeth, I swallowed a scream as fire lit in my bones.

This is the last one. No more. Just make it through this, and you’re done.

And just like every other time I’d done this, I cursed myself for refusing to do the power exchange as my father would. I didn’t perform the other spells that would ease this form of acquisition of power.

I didn’t debase myself any more than I had to.

And this was why I wouldn’t follow in my father’s footsteps. I wouldn’t crave power or money or favor. I would be…

Better? Girl, you’re a murderer. How does that make you think you’re better?

I was no better than Josiah Jacobs. No better than the man who was one tiptoe away from a full-on kingpin of the gods-be-damned Heartland.

Managing to peel myself from the disgusting floor, I cleaned up my mess, set myself to rights, and got rid of the body I now had on my hands. That was the one benefit of the magic I’d stolen—disintegrating a body was a snap. But it was only after the blood was gone from my skin and I’d opened the door did the real side effects set in.

The music from the club nearly split my skull as I made my way down the hall and out the back entrance, only managing to keep the contents of my stomach in until after I made it out into the hot, muggy night. To anyone else, I probably looked like some drunk party girl losing my lunch on the pavement. To an arcaner? I likely appeared precisely as I was—a witch with too much power and not enough sense.

But I had a Fae to break and a gate to unlock.

I just had to find the strength to do it.

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