The Magic Number

by Natalie Gibson

  Edited by Chelsea Cambeis

  THE MAGIC NUMBER

  Copyright © 2020 Natalie Gibson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by BHC Press

  Library of Congress Control Number:

  2020934433

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-163-6 (Hardcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-164-3 (Softcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-165-0 (Ebook)

  For information, write:

  BHC Press

  885 Penniman #5505

  Plymouth, MI 48170

  Visit the publisher:

  www.bhcpress.com

  Witchbound

  For the Love of Magic

  The Dying Art of Magic

  Multi-author Anthologies

  In Creeps the Night

  A Winter’s Romance

  To you, the reader.

  I know there are literally millions of other

  books you could have chosen. Thank you for

  picking up mine and giving it a chance.

  Let me not to the marriage of true minds

  Admit impediments. Love is not love

  Which alters when it alteration finds,

  Or bends with the remover to remove.

  O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

  That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

  It is the star to every wand’ring bark,

  Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

  Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

  Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

  Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  If this be error and upon me proved,

  I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

  — William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 116”

  Nanae Raphael Maru started drinking again. After years without, he had once again given in to temptation. It was her fault. She had come in here with that intoxicating scent. One whiff and years of self-denial went right out the window. He could stop anytime. He just didn’t want to.

  Her blood was unlike any he could remember. Her body called out to him. She was his Sinnis Ina Ummum Zumru, and he had recognized her as soon as she’d walked in the room. He guessed it was her frequent exposure to the heightened power of the Holy Capacitors that had kept her existence and location from him. She spent every day with them, seeing to their every discomfort. If only he had known about her before he made his vow.

  His words replayed in his mind, taunting him. “I will see the One through her eighteenth year. On that day, you will give me death, or I will give in to my Hunger. Either way, that will be my last as a Nephilim. I swear it on my mother’s body,” he had said. No use fretting about it now. An oath sworn by a Nephilim on the body of a mother was unbreakable. Nanae’s Beast within enlivened by the promise of freedom, stretched, testing Nanae’s leash, and found that his oath had put a weakness in the chain. He had felt it, and Ereshkigal, now residing in the body of Nathalia, had seen it. The Beast knew that if continual pressure was put on that leash, it would break. Come to me on that day, and I will allow you to meet the final death with your honor intact, Ereshkigal had said to him. There would be no escape, but eighteen years was a long time for a Nephilim who had lost control of his Hunger. His Sinnis, Camilla Tharese Brewster Lovejoy, would survive him. She would survive him if he could refrain from killing her, if he could keep his Hunger Beast from recognizing her as his Sinnis.

  She was tiny, with a wealth of blond hair the same color as his. Striking with minimal effort, her hair was all one length and looked like she hadn’t bothered to cut it in years. A petite pixie with small but perfect breasts and a heart-shaped butt, her legs were short but shapely, ending with thin ankles and delicate feet. She wore no makeup; her fiery green eyes and pink mouth gave her face all the color she needed. Her lips were thin but nicely shaped. With a top lip almost as long as the bottom one, her smile was wide and barely upturned at the corners. She had a dimple on one side. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, blue veins and pink arteries prominent. The Beast had called for her death, her immediate draining, and Nanae had almost given in. Ereshkigal’s Law be damned, no one should smell that delicious.

  Then she’d spoken.

  He would have given her anything after hearing that voice. She was asking for something only he could give her, and he couldn’t deny her. She wanted a baby. She needed him to hold the pregnancy to her until it was a viable age, able to survive life outside her body. He had agreed. He wished his seed carried the spark of life, but Nephilim could not procreate that way. A human man would have to provide.

  This service would cost her. He told her the price, and she’d agreed. It was reasonable, she said. Little did she know, there was nothing reasonable about what he would demand from her. He had only taken a few drops—just a taste, really—to seal the deal. It had been almost impossible to reign the Beast back. Would he be able to do it next time?

  CAMILLA CHOSE Israel as the father for her first child. It had been an easy choice. She’d loved him for years. He wasn’t a one-person kind of man, but she wasn’t a one-man kind of woman. She didn’t have that luxury, even if she’d wanted it. The Daughters of Women drew their magical energy from sex and didn’t have the hang-ups that most religious groups ingrained in their members. She had to be open to take whatever lover the order deemed necessary. Never having been serious about any one person before, it was no great burden. It was simply not a luxury she could afford, not in her line of work.

  She served as a Panacea Primo for the Daughters of Women. Her healing ability was different from other Panacea. Hers manifested itself as the ability to remove any abnormality from the human body. It was very handy for curing cancer and infections but could not differentiate between a tumor and a desired pregnancy.

  Camilla was fairly certain she could conceive but needed the Guardian’s healing powers to block her natural ability. The Guardian possessed the magic to keep her own ability from prematurely aborting her pregnancy, as it had so many.

  Sitting in Israel’s kitchen confirmed Camilla had chosen correctly. Izzy—as his friends called him—took it all in stride. He didn’t bat an eyelash when she told him she wanted a child—his child. Not even one of his many dark, luscious lashes fluttered. She wondered what their child would look like. Would it have his olive skin and dark hair? Would it grow to be tall and lean with strong arms?

  Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about children anymore, only Israel wrapping those strong arms around her. Lifting her up. Holding her down. She barely suppressed a shudder of pleasure at the thought.

  Camilla not only loved, but also lusted after Izzy. He pushed her buttons like no one else. He’d helped her realize she was a submissive. She had so much responsibility in the real world. The feeling of giving up all control in the bedroom was intoxicating. Izzy was an excellent Dominant. He knew what she wanted and what she needed, oftentimes before she did. Camilla was comfortable giving over to Israel completely.

  “What do you want to do?”

  Izzy’s question brought a smirk
to her lips. He knew it was the one thing he could say that turned her off. She didn’t want to be asked. She wanted him to know.

  He brought his hands up in surrender. “I only ask because I’ve never tried to make a baby before. Do we need it to be vanilla, or is the usual acceptable?”

  Sex was sex when it came to procreating. She knew what she wanted, but she didn’t know how the Guardian would feel about any of the things that would likely come up during non-vanilla sex with Israel. Her eyes moved to the Guardian, who stood filling the doorway, then back.

  As usual, Izzy understood her nonverbal communication and turned to speak to the other man in the room. “So, are you cool with me giving Camilla what she wants? I assure you, it will be completely consensual, but warn you that it may not look it. Camilla likes it on the rough side and enjoys some seriously dirty talk and nasty stuff.” He paused. “I don’t know what to call you. I feel like I should at least know your name if you’re joining us.”

  The already large Guardian seemed to grow bigger. He stepped forward. To his credit, Israel held his ground. The silence stretched out. When the Guardian finally spoke, he turned first to Camilla. The serious look in his eyes made her gulp audibly. “You trust this man?” he asked.

  She looked back to Israel and smiled. Nodding once, she said, “Completely.”

  “My name is Nanae Raphael Maru. You may please her. I will only be watching. Do not concern yourselves with me.”

  “There’s no may about it. I will please her. The question is: can you handle hearing me tell her exactly what I’m going to do to her delicious little body and then seeing me do those things?”

  “There is nothing you can do that I have not seen before.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, big man.”

  Israel walked to stand right in front of Camilla and turned them so that Nanae could see their profiles. Israel slipped one hand under the hem of Camilla’s dress. Between her thighs, his fingers found their prize, and she opened her legs wider to give him better access. His other hand slid up the swell of her hip, savoring the soft feel of her skin under the silky, slip-like dress she wore, then moved gently over her rib cage, his thumb barely touching the erect nipple of her hard, high breast. The tiny peak hardened out of arousal.

  His other hand moved past her collarbone and shoulder to palm the back of her head. He tangled his fingers in the thick mass of her dirty blond hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. Oh goddess, she loved this. She could feel Nanae’s eyes on them. He wanted her as much as, or maybe more than, Izzy did. Maybe Izzy could get him to join them. How amazing would it feel to be dominated—taken—by the two of them, together? Izzy brought her attention back to himself. She knew he’d want to see her face as he slipped one finger and then two into her already slick folds. Her eyes went wide and then fluttered. Instantly, her cheeks flushed with heat, and her mouth opened, as if she couldn’t get enough air. She said his name in little gasps as he bent his knees for a better angle and pushed his fingers deeper inside her.

  He knew just what to say to push her from tingles to tidal waves. “Tell me what you want, Camilla.”

  She managed to stammer out, “P-please, Izzy. I—y-you know—”

  “I do love when you beg me.” He clamped down hard on her with both hands, bringing her eyes back to focus. Her brow furrowed. “But I want you to say it. Loud enough for him to hear you,” he whispered harshly against her lips, the movement of his words mimicking a kiss.

  Funny how Izzy knew her thoughts were on the hunk of a man a few feet away from them. His presence was one reason she was so turned on. She could feel his jeweled eyes burning into her side. Breathless, she managed to say, “I want you to do me while Nanae watches.”

  Israel resumed his stimulation as he turned to look at the other man in the room. “Is that what you want, Nanae?” It was odd to hear Izzy use Nanae’s name. No one used it. Everyone else called him Raphe.

  Nanae shifted, making a noise more like a growl than a word. It was affirmative. Nanae was enjoying his little show.

  “Okay, I’ll be your stud horse, but it’s gonna cost you those clothes, Nanae.”

  Nanae wanted to say something, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. He wanted her, but even though she was his Sinnis, he couldn’t provide her with what she wanted. All he could do in reply was take off his clothes. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing a very muscular chest covered in a thin, downy coat of soft blond hair and hard six-pack abs. The man was probably twice Israel’s weight or more. She pulled her gaze away and focused on Izzy, who watched with admiration as Nanae undid the fly of his jeans and pushed the pants down to his ankles.

  Camilla knew better than turn her attention away from Izzy when he was dominating her. She had to settle with seeing Nanae through her peripheral vision until Izzy told her, “Look at him.”

  She did what she was told. The view was glorious. Nanae stood completely nude. Every part of him was huge. Apparently, what Izzy and Camilla were doing wasn’t just arousing to them. His chest filled the door opening. He was so tall, he’d have to duck his head and shoulder-length blond beach waves to pass through the door. Muscles flexed and twitched in his thick, muscular legs, and Camilla imagined him using all that muscle to hold her off the ground and thrust into her. Then, as he continued to stroke her, Izzy brought her attention to the one thing that she’d been avoiding.

  “Look at that monster cock. You’re going to look so hot with your mouth wrapped around that thing. You’ll have to work very hard not to choke while he shoves it down your throat. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when he pushes that thing up your tiny little ass pipe. He’s gonna split you in two.”

  “Or you.” Nanae’s deep voice was like distant thunder.

  Oh great goddess, that did it. Camilla came. Hard. Her hips bucked forward, pushing against Izzy’s palm, forcing him into the rhythm she needed to ride out the waves. Her most intimate muscles clenched his fingers. Her body tensed and then relaxed. The whole time, she kept her eyes on Nanae, who had dropped to his knees. She could do nothing else, since Izzy told her to look at him. Her legs wouldn’t hold her for long. Israel walked her back a few steps and laid her on her back across the kitchen table. Only then did he take his fingers out of her.

  Izzy crossed the room to Nanae, who, on his knees, was about the same height as him. Izzy held his fingers out as an offering, “Care for a taste?”

  Nanae’s hand shot out so fast Israel never saw it move, but the tight, vise-like grip and slight electric tingle of that touch were hard to miss. Nanae shackled Izzy’s wrist and brought it slowly to his lips. He looked into Israel’s face as he put the two glistening fingers into the warmth of his mouth. Camilla could swear that the blond man’s opal eyes flamed red for a moment before the glow receded into a smoldering shadow.

  Nanae spun Israel around to face Camilla, who was still lying on the table. She watched them through half-lidded eyes. Nanae lifted Izzy’s shirt over his head, mussing up his dark hair, and tossed the garment to the side. He leaned in, pointed at Camilla and spoke softly into Izzy’s ear. “Do it now, before I change my mind” and kill you both. He left the last part unsaid, but somehow, Camilla felt the threat without hearing it.

  The rumble vibrated through Izzy’s brain, forcing compliance, and he found himself walking forward, his pants becoming a trail behind him.

  As Izzy approached Camilla, Nanae spoke in a foreign language. Israel hooked one dark arm under each of Camilla’s knees and tugged her to the edge of the table. Her hair stayed where it was before the move, flaming out like a golden halo around her head. She reached down between them and placed him at her entrance. She angled her hips to better accommodate him and gasped as he surged forward, filling her, allowing her no time to adjust to his size, just as she liked.

  Her familiar lover pulled back and filled her again and again, increasing and then decreasing the speed according to the noises Camilla made. She relu
ctantly stopped him with a word. “Wait.” Izzy knew what she wanted, because he wanted it too. He nodded at her.

  She hooked her finger at Nanae, inviting him to join them. Neither saw him move, but suddenly, he was there next to them. He gripped the neckline of her dress with one hand and the hem with the other. With one tug, her dress was torn and tossed. It should have been painful, but Camilla barely felt it. Nanae was a healer, and she felt the familiar twinge of healing where the dress had been yanked against her body.

  Israel lifted Camilla’s left leg, passing it in front of his face to rest with her right one lying over his left elbow. The movement provided extra pressure around Izzy and turned Camilla on her right side so that she was facing Nanae. She licked her lips. Nanae’s member was right in front of her, and she just had to know how he tasted. She reached out with both hands and tugged his hips toward her face. And then her hands were empty.

  Nanae was back in the doorway again. He shook with the effort of refusing the warmth of her inviting mouth. They were both looking at him, and their expressions said everything. They wanted him to join. Not just his Sinnis, but her lover as well. “No, my beauties.”

  Israel laughed in his wicked sexy, knowing way. “You like to watch. That’s cool. This time. But next time, you join in. That’s the deal, Nanae.”

  The large man turned to stone. Even his breath seemed to stop as the couple waited. He said something in that odd language—a sharp word that cut the air, sounding like a modern but unfamiliar curse word. They didn’t know what he’d said, but it was clear he agreed—next time. Izzy pulled out and surged forward again. Camilla made a little sound that could have been pleasure or pain. Nanae growled in response.