Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Witch's Three
    The Witch's Three
    The Witch's Three
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    The Witch's Three

    By G.A. Rael

    3.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    A witch from a disgraced family and three of Hell's most powerful--and irresistible--demons.

    I never expected to be chosen. Trifectas want good little witches like Millie Lock, not smartassed half-breeds from traitor lines. And yet, the moment I lock eyes with Arman, I know my life is going to change forever. 

    Reverse Harem romance, adult audiences only. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherG.A. Rael
    Release dateFeb 6, 2019
    ISBN9781386591696
    The Witch's Three

    Related to The Witch's Three

    Related ebooks

    Paranormal Romance For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Benzo Mama

      Sep 7, 2021

      Benzo Mama
      30 min read

    • Article

      The Postmenopausal Fairy Tale

      Feb 4, 2019

      The Postmenopausal Fairy Tale
      9 min read

    • Article

      Six Sonnets

      Jan 1, 2021

      Goldenrod, I could say, you know, everybody wants somethingfrom me, but, well, everybody wants something and nobody wantsnothing from me, goldenrod, towhead, beast. Goldenrod, you packthe meadows like gold-plated sardines. I have heart palpitationsbu

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Evil Stepmother

      Apr 3, 2019

      The Evil Stepmother
      6 min read

    • Article

      Present Tense

      Sep 4, 2018

      Present Tense
      10 min read

    • Article

      Lech

      Feb 8, 2022

      Lech
      4 min read

    • Article

      Glad Tidings

      Apr 10, 2024

      I unwrap my grandmother’s tinkling candle carousel without incident. We’ve used the same bubble wrap for years, and I’m not sure what good the airless plastic does to protect it, but anyway, the metal is tarnishing. Next, I arrange the poinsettias my

      12 min read

    • Article

      The Growing Stillness Of Home, But Then Maya Came Along

      Jun 2, 2019

      I had been looking forward to the quiet. The house in which we raised six children was finally empty, save for a stray Millennial or two. The SpongeBob SquarePants toys had gone to charity, the Barbie Dream House was gathering dust in the attic and t

      2 min read

    • Article

      The Right Daughter

      Apr 18, 2024

      The Right Daughter
      6 min read

    • Article

      Jason the Heat Guy

      Jan 11, 2021

      Jason the Heat Guy
      11 min read

    • Article

      Hauntings

      Jul 5, 2023

      Hauntings
      11 min read

    • Article

      Wilding

      Nov 3, 2022

      Wilding
      8 min read

    • Article

      Foxes

      Jun 15, 2019

      What’s worth happening happens in deep woods. Or so my daughter tells me. Her plotlines: In the deep woods someone is chasing, someone else is getting hacked. Hatchets are lifted, brought downdowndown. Men stutter blood onto snow. A cast of animals—s

      17 min read

    • Article

      Come Stay

      Jan 16, 2024

      Come Stay
      23 min read

    • Article

      The Family Plot

      May 7, 2020

      The Family Plot
      10 min read

    • Article

      The Space Between Us

      Oct 9, 2019

      The Space Between Us
      8 min read

    • Article

      That Particular Sunday

      Jul 6, 2023

      That Particular Sunday
      26 min read

    • Article

      Hecho en El Salvador

      Aug 7, 2023

      Hecho en El Salvador
      5 min read

    • Article

      Night Visions

      Sep 10, 2022

      Night Visions
      6 min read

    • Article

      Heave’s Whisky

      Feb 27, 2024

      Heave’s Whisky
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Courage To Be Happy

      Feb 1, 2023

      MARRIAGE and columns have this in common: you tend to repeat yourself. More than once in these pages, I have quoted the New Yorker’s legendary film critic Pauline Kael. After President Nixon’s landslide victory in 1972 she wrote: ‘I live in a rather

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Silence of Witches

      Dec 10, 2019

      The Silence of Witches
      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Witch's Three

    3.5/5

    9 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Witch's Three - G.A. Rael

      Chapter 1

      Every incubus trifecta needs a witch to keep them in line. For the succubi, it’s a warlock. Since demons outnumber witches ten to one, every natural-born witch can look forward to a life of pampering and courtship from the moment they turn eighteen and become eligible to choose a coven.

      Every one except me, that is.

      At twenty-three, I’m not exactly an old maid, but I might as well be. In the eyes of witch society, I’m damaged goods. While the Westwood family name was once whispered with the utmost fear and reverence, it became a curse the moment my grandfather betrayed the coven by taking a mortal lover and disgracing us all.

      Most kids have birthday parties, but me? December twenty-second was always a day of sobering silence, just like my mother’s birthday was before it. An annual reminder that my mother’s birth sealed the fate of our family line and relegated us to the shadows on the fringes of witch society.

      As the coven makes clear, we’re lucky that we weren’t stripped of our powers or hung for his crimes. As it is, I’ll be expected to serve another Chosen witch as a thrall. That is, if any are willing to associate with a Westwood even on servile terms.

      So far, the unwashable stench of my family name has left me with plenty of free time. I’m the first member of my family who’s actually had the chance to finish a college degree and I’m working on my PhD in psychology. I figure I’ll probably need it once I end up in my permanent placement.

      In the meantime, my family acts like my academic pursuits are just another sad distraction, like Mom’s knitting or Aunt Cara’s day drinking. It’s the main reason I dread coming home on break, but I know I can’t stay away forever.

      The family house is a beautiful colonial on a small farm just outside of Savannah. It’s on the outskirts of the coven’s territory, which is fitting, because that’s where we sit in every sense.

      Growing up, I never minded the distance. I was a major tomboy who liked nothing more than climbing the peach trees by the creek and bottling fireflies in Mason jars. Back then, I felt like I had the whole world to myself and sometimes I’d lay in the grass, listening to the stories the woods had to whisper in my ear while I read fortunes in the clouds.

      Magic is my birthright, but it wasn’t until I turned sixteen that I realized it was meant to be a curse.

      It’s been six months since I’ve been home, give or take, and the old place looks the same as ever. I can smell the freshly baked apple pie Mom always makes when one of her flock comes back to the roost. Ever since my father’s death, she’s referred to it as the henhouse.

      Anyone home? I call, stepping into the foyer. A gray cat dive-bombs my ankles and trills on his way past.

      Fuck you, too, Mathers, I mutter, walking into the kitchen. My mom is by the sink, her adorably stout form swaying out of time to the nineties breakup anthem blaring from her headphones.

      When I tap her on the shoulder, she lets out a shriek fit to wake the dead. When she spins around, she puts her hands over her chest and lets out a guttural sigh.

      Reynata Jane Westwood, are you tryin’ to give me a damn heart attack?

      Sorry, Mom, I laugh, wrapping her in my arms. I’m not exactly tall at five-foot-five, but I still tower over her in the flat motorcycle boots she’s sure to lament.

      When she gives me the obligatory once-over, my tattered leather jacket with all the patches seems to catch her eye first. Where on Earth did you get that?

      Consignment, I say, slipping my hands into the pockets. You like it?

      The look on her face tells me just how ridiculous that question was.

      You know what I told you about used clothes.

      I know, I sigh, reaching above her for a glass. Even before I open the refrigerator, I know there’ll be a pint of fresh raspberry sweet tea. Tastes like the nectar of the gods when you’ve been living on the bottled stuff, but you can’t exactly make it when all you have in your grad student apartment is a microwave, a toaster oven and zip else. ‘Most of that stuff comes from estate sales. That’s how you get ghosts.’ Right?

      Well, it is, she says matter-of-factly, turning back to the pot on the stove.

      What’s for dinner?

      This is floor wash, she answers. You arrived just in time, missy. We’ve got a very prestigious visitor coming.

      I sniff the lemon and herbs permeating the air. Must be if you’re breaking out the purification wash.

      The glimmer in her eyes makes me wary. Eliza Lock is coming to visit.

      Eliza? I echo. Her excitement makes it clear we’re not on the same page where the coven’s queen bee is concerned. The Locks are one of the oldest families in Quentin, second in prestige only to the Westwoods, before our fall. Eliza’s daughter, Millie, was in the same class all throughout high school and if there’s anyone who hates my family even more than she does, it’s her witch of a mother. What does she want?

      Mom gives me a scolding look. I don’t know, but I expect you to be on your best behavior when she arrives.

      Me? What about Aunt Cara? I challenge. Mathers is probably gonna try to trip her the second she walks in the door.

      She pauses, as if that hadn’t occurred to her. Maybe I should go pull his vet crate out of the garage…

      The doorbell rings and Mom’s face goes blank. She glances at the clock on the stove. She’s early, she cries, bustling around the kitchen. Hurry, try to stall her while I get the tea on!

      Stall her? I cry as she shoos me out of the kitchen.

      By the time I make it downstairs, Aunt Cara is at the top of them, wearing an open kimono over her pajamas. She doesn’t look a day over thirty, a testament to the power of virgin blood and wishful thinking. I can tell from the dark circles under her eyes that she’s just woken up, probably after a late night out at the werewolf bar. Rey! If you’re here, who the hell is that?

      Eliza Locke, I answer.

      Her lip curls back into a snarl and she does an about face. Wake me up when the harpy leaves.

      I purse my lips to stifle a laugh

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1