by Gina Kincade
“Maybe I should start my own witch hunt tomorrow,” she mumbled to herself. “Do some research on this group called Mastema.”
They really just seemed like a few arrogant, egomaniacs who thought money was the source of all happiness, and life was about how you could impress the world with your success. Once they had success, they thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Luca had not seen the way she was moving her head about to emphasize her inner conversation, or that he heard her talking to herself. He didn’t look as if he had. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all, just stared out the window. She rolled her eyes.
What could they really hate me for? I rarely even see the assholes to say “Hi.” They are always working. Maybe they should spend a little more time at home. Ignorant asses! She tried to control her suddenly trembling hands from throwing her stuff into the cases as a heat grew in her core then inched up her spine. If Luca planned on being around for long, he had better start talking. She’d already excused Poppie of his tight-lipped, just-listen-to-me approach with her earlier, and she was not in the mood to let Mr. Stuff-That-Dreams-Are-Made-Of get away with the same.
A whirl of mounting emotions rushed through her. The brunt of her growing anger shocking her with its force as she heard the zipper hiss as she closed her case. Good thing Poppie called first, because despite this guy’s deep, dark good looks, from his coffee-brown eyes to his silky, black hair, she would not normally have let this nutcase in her house. What in the world was this Luca talking about with his 'feeling negative vibrations?' Oh, her Poppie better know this man well as he claimed. She’d always trusted the old man completely. He’d never given her a reason not to. It was based on this undying faith in her grandfather that she was now getting in a car with a complete stranger to ride to the house she’d grown up in just on the other side of town, for Pete’s sake.
She trusted in Poppie’s love for her completely. He had never led her astray, and he had proven more than once before to be a great judge of character. Her Mammie and her Poppie were all she had ever had. Her parents had died when she was only three years old, so she had no real memories of them. But, she had not wanted for anything with her grandparents, except for maybe a little more freedom. Her heart still ached every day with the loss of her Mammie last year. It was the reason she had moved back here, to be closer to Poppie. She had made it up to herself by buying a big house in one of the newer neighborhoods, since her last series of books had some steady royalties coming in now.
With a steely, forced smile on her face, she hefted her bag up onto her arm, and returned to the living room. Luca had still not moved an inch.
“Do I have enough time to pack some clothes?”
“You have a few minutes left, and then I want you out of here.” He growled out, his tone making it clear he would not be swayed in the least.
“Pushy!”
She stormed up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring thoughts of how pleasant the rest of her night might be. She was not one to worry if her house would still be here in the morning. It was just a house. Stuff. Insured too. But this guy had to be wrong. People do not just start people’s houses on fire in places like this. Sure it happened up in the city from time to time, but those cases were always drug or gang related. She absent-mindedly threw a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt into a bag. Then she grabbed a set of sweats to sleep in, and closed the bag, pondering if Mr. Intense would be staying at Poppie's, too. The thought disturbed her in areas long un-pleasured.
He had the back door open for her when she took the last step down the stairs. He stood there looking quite pleased with himself, her computer bag slung over his shoulder.
“I will take that, thanks,” she reached for the thick strap of the black leather case as she went by him. “Sorry, I am funny about my c-computer.” The last word fell off her tongue on a quiet stutter as the back of her hand brushed over his skin. Tiny sparks, much like static electricity tingled, along the back of her hand as it caressed over his. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned, then grimaced when her computer case bounced off of her hip.
She almost tripped over an uneven crack in her driveway. When she rounded the house and saw his vehicle parked on the side of the road, she had to overcome the instinct to stop walking. It fit. It perfectly fit the whole image of him. It was dangerous and tough looking. Just like this handsome man beside her. She knew she had never seen the likes of a car such as this one before. The thing had to be expensive. It looked like something they drove around in the movies at warp speeds.
If she could stop her writer’s brain, she would not be thinking of how the car's smooth, sexy curves and bulges resembled Luca. Nor, would she be imagining how good he would look sprawled naked on the hood, especially in a good drizzle. Berating herself to stop such thoughts, she tried to focus on forming the right questions to get this hunk to open up about himself on the ride.
The same static electricity thing happened when he touched her back to help her into the car. Only, she didn’t have time to consider it as she watched him close the door and look around them like some kind of cop in an action movie. The odd thing was, he perused over the sky instead of in the bushes and trees surrounding them. He had not warned her of any coming aerial attack. She had assumed the bombs, some homemade kind, if they were actually coming, would simply be thrown from a car as it drove by. She intended to get some answers the minute he plopped that absolutely delicious-looking hard ass of his down in the damn car.
He fell down rather gracefully into his seat for his size, though.
“So what kind of car is this?” she asked as the engine roared to life, her heart racing a bit more to match.
“It is a Ferrari Scaglietti, and it is only a loaner.”
“From who, Donald Trump? I will not claim to know much about cars, but I know this is too far out of my price range, or anyone else’s around here for that matter.” “It isn’t new. A 2007 I believe.”
“Still, not a car you see around here. Are you trying to draw attention to yourself?” Her voice sounding bitchier than she’d intended it to be for some reason
“What? No! I have no idea why Ahti has such a thing about cars. I just take what I am given.”
“Ahti? Do you know anyone with a normal name?” “What is it with all of the questions?”
“Do you have something to hide?” she accused loudly.
His eyes appeared to come alive, lit up like there was fire behind his dark irises. His eyes were not a color she had ever seen before, either. They bordered more on a black than a brown, like darkly stained oak, mimicking the color of his hair almost as the oceans do sky. His unusualness intrigued her in ways she did not quite want to acknowledge fully, and yet his familiarity unnerved her to no end. She straightened her back, sitting rigid in her seat when he refused to answer her jibe.
“Okay, well like it or not, buddy, I have more of them. I am an inquisitive person. Blame the day job!”
“The books,” he said it as a statement of little importance. She had to wonder how much had Poppie told him about her. Yet, she left that question for another time. She had more important things to ask him about, and other ways of gaining her answers. She hesitated at the temptation to use her gift to obtain personal information.
She had always been able to read minds. It was her private little secret. She could not complain, though, it was what had led her to writing in the first place. Finding people’s thoughts to be much greater, more animated or blown out of proportion than anything they actually said, she had discovered a talent of hers to take those exaggerations and let her mind wander through the possibilities. Eventually, one fantasy after another had been born. So, when teachers had started to take notice of these stories of hers, she had started writing. Finally, it had proven a great outlet for the overload of information she dealt with each day.
Yet, she made a valiant effort, well most of the time when she wasn't looking fo
r a story, to avoid the temptation to search another’s thoughts for her own personal gain. Especially since she had been burned, having fallen under the seduction of its lure a time or two in matters of the heart.
The mind reading for her craft had sent her to traipsing all over the world, though. City after city, invading people’s thoughts until she found the inspiration for her next story. Her imagination needed little incentive to spiral out of control. This was why she had chosen to write fantasies. She had long gotten over the guilt of prying into people’s conscious musings, especially when she didn’t know them at all. Although, what little she gained of the subconscious mind made it seem like it might have been a more profitable place to be able to go.
She closed her eyes, trying to connect with his thoughts in spite of the fact she felt wary about taking her eyes off watching the road with the speed the man drove. He steered them toward the outskirts of the city like some dire emergency awaited them there. She felt overwhelmingly frustrated when none of his thoughts came to her; she had no explanation of how such a thing could be. It was not possible for a person to be thinking absolutely nothing for so long a time, especially when driving. He had to be at least concentrating on the road, or the next turn he would have to make.
She relaxed the aching fingers she’d been holding in fists on her lap. When he took a turn too fast, having her eyes closed left her off balance and she slammed into the hardness of his body. Had it not been for her pride, she would have yelped at the pain his upper arm inflicted upon hers and then rubbed at the ache.
“What are you doing?” He asked with obvious agitation, although her body had not jarred his at all. The car had even managed the turn smoothly for the speed and incident.
“Sorry, I closed my eyes for a second,” she said sheepishly, already mad at herself for making such a poor showing. The last thing she needed was for this man to think she actually needed caring for.
“It is a bit early for bed, isn’t it? We will be at your Poppie’s in just minutes, if you can keep yourself awake until then.”
She chewed on the inside of her mouth while letting out a few long, hard breaths through her nose, searching for the smart-ass remark that would redeem her wounded pride. Yet, nothing came to her except the ache and tingle in her arm in the location where it had met with his. Her brain had officially abandoned her.
A Modern Day Witch Hunt, and many more books by this amazing duo, are now available online at your favorite retailer.
Mystical Mayhem
Mystical Mayhem
Kiki Howell
About
Can fated mates find a way to stay together when all mystical beings are on opposing sides of an impending battle?
When rogue shifters capture Aiyanna, a Native American Indian with a dragon spirit, she finds herself tied to the wall of a cave, about to be the sacrifice in their twisted sex ritual. Their intention is to conceive another chimera, the legendary paranormal superman of Alaska. What the group didn’t plan for, is the real chimera, Xander, coming to their sacrifice’s rescue.
Once in his cave, as Xander cares for Aiyanna’s wounds and shares a little of his rough life, the two find they are life mates. The next step in their lives should be clear. Instead, indecision reigns in this world gone mad, where paranormal creatures who once lived secretly on the fringes of society are currently joining together for evil purposes.
As lines are drawn, war ensues, and personal struggles mount. Xander is called to join a Special Activities Division of the CIA. Decisions must be made even as the mystical mayhem continues around them.
Chapter One
P ain cut like a blade stuck in her wrists each time she hurled her weight forward. Aiyanna needed her dragon in order to break the ropes that tied her arms above her head. Yet, deep inside this cave, the spirit remained elusive. A maize-colored light surrounded her, stifled her ability to call to her animal, the only one left to save her.
Rogue shifters had invaded her reservation here in Alaska, or at least what remained of an old one. Aiyanna had no idea what’d happened to the others there, those she called friends and family. She alone had been captured, taken in the dark in complete silence. Now, she hung against a cold rock wall listening to a man who’d shifted into a hawk when he’d gotten frustrated a moment ago, but was now a man again. He fought with the other shifters present, as well as a witch about the specifics of a sex ritual she was to be sacrificed in.
“You listen to me. Bottom line. Ideal or not,” the hawk-man hissed. “We have a sacrifice: a mystical woman, an Indian with a dragon spirit. The bitch is perfect. We have shifters here to represent each element with a corresponding animal. Don’t get all fuckin’ simpering woman on me because you know her.”
“I know of her. She is gifted, maybe too gifted to kill was all I was saying, Aiden,” spat the witch, though she was wringing her fists in front of her. Aiyanna knew of the witch, too, mostly rumors, though. Her name was Selene, and she practiced on the dark side of magick despite the way she’d been raised. Selene, like Aiyanna, had lost her mother young.
“You listen to me. I’ve planned this for too long. You knew how it would work. You will do this! It’s your choice how easy or hard your participation will be. Got it? The moon is right. The ritual stones and other shit have been gathered.” The hawk-man’s voice was rising, beating at the air as his wings had a few minutes ago. “We do this tonight. We kill her tonight! We will all mate with you, witch, tonight! A child will be conceived. One like the legends.”
Aiyanna knew exactly the legend they spoke of. The superman, if you will, of the shifters. She could use his help right about now. Not many had seen him, but the one who shifted into a combination of many beasts at once, the Chimera, saved those in dire need. She felt hanging from a wall, about to be sacrificed, qualified as a bit dire.
Gritting her teeth till her jaw ached, she jutted out her chin, holding her head high no matter what they intended for her. Her head buzzed, like bees had nested there and were busy working. Aiyanna stared down her enemy, forcing her focus on this hawk-man, Aiden, despite her pain. If looks could kill, she would no longer be in such a sick mess. Panic began to creep up her back, a thousand cold spiders crawling along her spine, enhanced by the cold wall she was against. Yet, she annihilated the worthless emotion, like her kind, who had been long persecuted, were taught to do.
Twisting, panic rising to a frenzied level, something close to insanity swirling together in her thoughts, then feeling her own blood begin to trickle down her arms, she let out a fierce cry. For her efforts, hawk-man came at her, close to flying on his feet. His movements were swift and graceful even in his human form. Without any trace of dignity or grace, though, he slapped her across the face without a blessed moment’s hesitation.
His large hand left a stinging imprint, four lines of warm pain across her cheek. The bees in her head, shocked, stunned, hummed, building a blinding pain in one temple. Eyes watering, she hung her head, hoping her anger would rouse her dragon despite whatever binding spell she was under. She wouldn’t give up or think herself weak because she’d been captured. Luck had just dealt her the hand of being the gifted one they wanted, and the shifters had come like thieves in the night to steal her out of her bed while she slept, unguarded and unaware.
Other men, all of different skin tones and builds, finished their preparations in the cave, finally lighting the last candles around her feet. The Lion inside the man close to her was fierce, growling, clawing, to get out. His elemental nature being fire seemed more than appropriate. Literally, she felt she’d be burned if she merely brushed against his deeply bronzed skin. She watched him as closely as she watched the flames licking almost against her body. Yet, he paid her no mind. He went about his assigned job with a great passion and an excitement she could feel. Her empathic skills, thanks to her dragon spirit, were on high alert.
“Strip and get to your positions now,” the hawk-man snipped at his makeshift coven. “Witch, strip the
sacrifice.”
Hell no!
She screamed inside her head and squirmed as if to make a hole in the wall with her ass, one she could push her body into and hide. The futile movements only brought more beads of sweat to turn icy cold and drip down her back.
“I don’t need to be naked to be killed in your sick sex ritual,” she taunted, unable to keep her mouth shut. It was one thing to be comfortable with your body as it was, curves and all; it was quite another to have it displayed to a group of strangers, all of them male save one.
“Everything will be as I want it!” Aiden was now so close to her that he spit on her face when he spoke. She was surprised it didn’t burn with the venom of his words. “If I want to bare your breasts, your pussy, bitch, I will. Along with anything else that suits my whims. Your dark skin and long, shiny brown hair with those generous curves of yours will make a nice display. You are our altar tonight. I want it to be beautiful.” He looked up and down her body, making her skin crawl as if tiny invisible insects with poison on their feet were covering her. Heat flushed all over her.
“You’ll fail!” she roared, a twinge of fire at the back of her throat, the sheer volume of her voice dropping to a hoarse scream from the exertion.
He ripped her shirt and bra off in one motion, his strength characteristic of shifters. His nails left bloody scrapes across her breasts, matching the burns where her bra straps had pulled across her sides until the hooks at the back had broken. This was the first time the rough wall she was bound to felt good when she fell back against it. It was cool. When she had been brought here, the first flakes of the season had just begun to fall. Deep in the cave with a fire burning in the middle, she no longer knew that winter was upon them.