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He’s Bewitched
A Ravenous Romance™ Panamour™ Original Publication
Ryan Field
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A Ravenous Romance™ Panamour™ Original Publication
www.ravenousromance.com
Copyright © 2009 by Ryan Field
Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite 123A
Beverly, MA 01915
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without
written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts
in connection with a review.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-219-4
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely
coincidental.
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Chapter One
Brett Samson looked like any other attractive mortal.
His sandy blond hair was short and wavy; his well-defined body, with its slim
waist and large, round chest muscles, caused people to turn and stare when he passed by.
No one could tell he was a warlock unless he snapped his fingers. And he never did that,
because he wanted to live his life the normal, human way—just like everyone else.
Brett also had a goal: to fall in love with a nice guy and live happily ever after.
But he was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen. He’d recently broken
up with a guy named Jackson, the man with whom he thought he’d spend the rest of his
life.
The only living mortal who knew his secret was his cousin, Michelle. She was
also the only relative he had left, besides his maternal grandmother. Michelle and Brett
were a year apart in age, both in their mid-twenties. She was his paternal cousin, but they
looked like brother and sister. She had the same sandy blond hair, the same strong jaw
and the same blue eyes. But she wasn’t a witch. He’d inherited his powers from his
mother’s side of the family.
Michelle still lived at the family home, Willow Farm. It was in McLean, Virginia,
not far from the storied Hickory Hill estate owned by the Kennedy family. It was a
sprawling red brick Colonial with black shuttered windows, six white columns, and six
dormers on the third floor. A semi-circular driveway led to a front portico flanked with
tall Grecian urns containing potted boxwoods trimmed into perfectly round balls. It had
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been the Samson family home for almost one hundred and fifty years. Michelle’s father
and Brett’s father had been brothers, and when Michelle’s father died, Brett’s father
inherited the entire estate. After he died, Michelle and Brett became joint owners.
But Brett preferred living in town. He liked the urban feel of his Washington,
D.C., loft, which was actually an expensive row house renovated to resemble a loft. He
also liked being near the nightlife and his work. Michelle preferred Willow Farm and
craved the quiet; she didn’t mind commuting. And she wasn’t alone. Brett’s grandmother,
Eloise, lived at Willow Farm, too. Brett’s mother had run off with a vampire when he
was only six months old and Eloise had helped raise him. She was a flamboyant old
witch who often forgot her spells and incantations, and no one could ever predict her next
move.
Brett and Michelle sat on the rear veranda at Willow Farm on a warm spring
evening in May. The sun was just going down. “I think we should take off for the
summer,” Michelle said, then leaned forward to look her cousin in the eye. “We haven’t
spent the summer at the Cape in more than five years.”
“We go every New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July weekend,” Brett said. He
rocked back and forth in a white chair. His little red poodle, Tag, was sitting on his lap,
watching the squirrels.
To see Brett now, no one would guess he’d almost been beaten to death and
robbed the night before.
He’d made a mistake, a big one. He’d picked up rough trade in a bar, a guy with a
deep smooth voice, bulging biceps, and tattoos all over his body. Brett looked fine now;
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warlocks healed fast on the outside. But on the inside, there were still bruises that would
take months to heal.
“I mean, spend the entire summer there,” Michelle pressed. “Business is so slow
in the summer. We won’t be missing anything, and it would be fun.” They owned a
trendy boutique not far from Brett’s loft near Dupont Circle. In Washington, D.C., it was
the place to go for something very expensive, but not run-of-the-mill. “We could cut back
to summer hours and Jasmine and Harlan could split their time.” Jasmine was a full-time
manager and Harlan worked part time as a sales clerk.
Tag, ears cocked and braced for battle, jumped off his lap and raced toward a
squirrel. Brett stared down at his knees and said, “What about Grandmother?”
“We’ll take her with us,” she said. Even though Eloise wasn’t her blood relation,
she was the only grandmother Michelle had ever known.
“I guess I could use a change of scenery,” he conceded. “The incident with Dev
wasn’t isolated.”
“Who’s Dev ?”
He sighed. “The guy who beat me up last night,” he said. “His name was Devon,
but he preferred Dev.”
She lowered her eyebrows and stared at him. He hadn’t told her much about what
had happened the previous night. “What do you mean, ‘the incident wasn’t isolated’?”
He took a breath and sighed. “Ever since I broke up with Jackson,” he said, “I’ve
been a little out of control when it comes to men. Last week alone I took on the mailman,
the guy who delivers my Chinese take-out, the cable guy, two trash collectors, and a
customer who came into the boutique to buy a new belt.”

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