Freeing the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

them along. I’ve learned my lesson. No way am I good at that stuff like you are.”
    “You could be if you were serious about your craft and studied.”
    Not gonna happen. Becca had suffered through no end of boring subjects in regular school. Her mom’s Big Book of Charms was as exciting to her as reading an automotive repair manual. She made a face. “And miss Dancing with the Stars ?”
    “You joke now, but someday you might need it.”
    Someday was this minute. Becca groaned inwardly.
    Always attuned to her daughter’s moods, Rowena regarded her. “There is something wrong. I can see it on your face. Do you want to talk about it?”
    No. “Nothing’s the matter. Honestly.”
    “Then we’ll talk about other stuff. Catch up. Say hi to your dad, then meet me in the kitchen.” She kissed the tip of Becca’s nose. “Okay?”
    Not really. She had to stop giving away her feelings to her mom and Eric. He’d looked at her the same way Rowena was now. As though he could read her soul. Becca handed her mom the bag. “I’ll be right there.”
    Her dad was in the family room—his man cave—stockinged feet propped on the footrest of his La-Z-Boy recliner, The Times-Picayune draped across his blue-jeaned legs, his scowl on one of the Fox news shows he loved to bitch at. Liberal right down to his DNA, he kept muttering at the talking heads on the big-screen TV.
    Becca smiled. Burly and cuddly, her dad still resembled the trucker he’d once been. Since meeting her mom, he’d established and built his own trucking company, making it succeed with backbreaking work, not magic. Although they could have lived in a mega-mansion, given her mom’s powers, Wade Salt wouldn’t hear of it. Their home was beautiful, right down to its gingerbread embellishments and wraparound porch, but still modest by immortal standards.
    The only time Becca recalled him asking Rowena to use her witchy talent was during the 2010 Super Bowl, played by the New Orleans Saints. Gently but firmly, she’d refused. The Saints won anyway.
    Becca kissed the top of his head. His bristly salt-and-pepper hair, worn in a crew, tickled her nose. Suppressing a sneeze, she sputtered, “Isn’t watching that crap bad for your blood pressure?”
    “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on those fools.” He lifted his face to Becca, sending a wave of Old Spice aftershave in her direction. “Crap?”
    Becca ran her fingertips over his frown marks. “Dad, I’m twenty-seven, all right? I know all the bad words. I even use them sometimes.”
    “I hope not in front of guys. Trust me, they like a lady.”
    Becca thought of the beasts she knew. Every time one of her staff let loose with gutter talk, their clients liked it so much they got humongous hard-ons.
    Becca sensed Eric wasn’t any different…deep, deep down. She recalled how assertive he’d become, insisting she help him. Once she’d caved and agreed, he went right back to being Mr. Nice Guy. Finishing last with thousands of babes he’d already dated, while millions more were just waiting for the bad boy he wanted to become.
    Rowena breezed into the room. “Here you go.”
    She placed a tray of spring rolls, Crab Rangoon, deep-fried wontons, Hui Guo Rou and a Bud Light on his lap. After tucking a linen napkin into the neck of his tee, she slipped her arm through Becca’s. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”
    He nodded, his attention torn between his feast and the junk on Fox News.
    In the brick-and-brass kitchen, Rowena held up a bottle of red Bordeaux and a Bud Light. “Pick your poison. You can’t have both.”
    Becca wanted neither. Several shots of hard liquor were calling to her, though not until her escape from here. She gestured to the Bud Light.
    Rowena heaped portions of the Chinese fare on Becca’s plate. “Say when.”
    “About five spoonfuls ago. Please, enough—thanks.”
    For the first time in forever, Becca wasn’t hungry. Nervous energy ate at her along with mounting