Demons & Dragons

by Gina Kincade

  When the doorbell rang, she thanked her lucky stars for the person who dared intrude on her mother's time to talk her into a husband.

  "Hold on," her mother said, setting down the spoon she'd been using to stir up a cake, the poor utensil moving faster and faster, in accordance with her mother's voice rising. "I invited a friend over to meet you."

  "What? Mom!" Sam complained, her back suddenly ramrod straight from where she'd been slouching on her chair. "I came straight from teaching two classes. Hard classes. I'm a half still sweaty, half sweat-dried mess. You really want me to meet someone like this?"

  Then, purposely more exaggerated this time, she slouched again, thinking her current state may just get her out of this impending date altogether.

  "Bring him in," she grumbled to herself as her mother walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a decorative dish towel, the spitting image of a fifties housewife with her monogrammed apron yet minus the pumps.

  "Samantha," her mother said sharply to gain her daughter' attention as she walked back into the room where Sam remained with her head down, resting on her arms. Sam rolled her forehead enough to look toward the door, as her mother stepped aside to let in a woman. "I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Sylvia Ludus."

  Stunned, Sam muttered something of a hello as she glanced over the small woman decked out in a power suit and heels with her long, curly honey blonde locks.

  "Sylvia doesn't go out of her office often, but for her old friend, she's made an exception," her mother continued, moving past them back to her cake mix.

  "Well, when I heard the desperation in your mother's voice when she called the other day, I offered to take a little road trip this way and get to work," the strange woman ground out.

  Though her petite size may have fooled Sam at first, the woman exuded confidence and expectation in both her voice and her stance. In one single sentence Sylvia pretty much summed up that she meant business, putting Sam a little on edge.

  "Work?" Sam managed to squeak out only to continue on without waiting for an answer. "Desperation? Is everything okay, mom?"

  "No, dear, it is not. Haven't you been listening to me?" Her mother talked to the pan she currently buttered, fingers swiping furiously over the now shiny surface of the round pan as if the more frantic the arm movements, the better this conversation would go. "My daughter is getting to be of a certain age and is not yet married. So, yes, I'm desperate. Therefore, I called in a professional. Sylvia."

  "Professional?" Sam blinked and cocked her head, wondering when she'd been relegated to the role of parrot.

  "Yes, a professional," Sylvia confirmed, her voice bordering on enthusiastic. "I own Shifting Hearts Dating Agency. Now, while I mainly deal in shifters, I wanted to help your dear mother. She once used her great powers to help with a pesky problem, so I'm returning the favor in doing this job."

  "You are going to set me up? With a shifter?" Sam asked before she turned to her mother. "And, you are okay with this?"

  "Desperate times," her mother scolded. "A witch and a shifter can make a fine match. I've read all about it online."

  Sam gaped at her mother. "I'm regretting getting you that eReader and showing you how to get on the Internet with it. That was to research recipes, not dating options. You can't be serious."

  "I've used it advantageously now for both. I can show you the stories, success stories about witches and shifters, what they can offer each other."

  "No need. I believe you. I guess it has been known to happen," Sam stuttered over the words, still in shock at this whole turn of events, and not liking being outnumbered. It unnerved her more the vibe she got from this Sylvia. In another time and place, she felt she'd really like the woman.

  "Sylvia is an expert. She has quite the remarkable record for matches. It's like a sixth sense to this woman, finding those lost and lonely souls who belong together."

  "Maybe it is. Anyway, look, baby," Sylvia stated, a big smile on her lips as she patted Sam's hand. She'd already made herself at home on the stool beside her. "I have a savior for you. He's a very special man, in a lot of ways, if you know what I mean." She stopped to wink, but then grimaced a bit.

  Sam figured the scowl on her own face and the tightness of her lips gave the woman pause for just a moment. "A special savior? I don't exactly need saving, and I am not really lost or lonely either, but what does that mean exactly?"

  "A big dick and a tons of muscles," Sylvia responded with a hearty laugh, which only increased when Sam's eyebrows rose though her scowl remained.

  "Well now, not that that doesn't sound grand, but I'm not interested in that type in the least. I'm sure my mother has told you that, since you and her have obviously discussed fixing me up. I'm sick of the type. I work with those meatheads sometimes because some doctor sent them in for yoga to save their tendons or back or what have you from the ravages of the gym. And let me tell you, the big dick, the washboard abs, they are just not worth the mindless chatter you have to deal with in between the sex. I can't eat another meal with a guy who can only talk about how much weight he can lift in comparison to what the other guys in the gym can't. Please, give me a man with some substance, maybe one who has, I don't know, read a book or something."

  "Samantha Lynn Morgan!" her mother scolded. "Sylvia traveled several hours to be here. She took the time to match you up. You will hear her out, say thank you, and go on a date. End of story!"

  Sam deflated. She didn't feel like fighting it out today. In fact, she rarely did, hence the parade of one bad date after another thanks to her mother's meddling. The woman was obsessed with getting to plan at least one wedding in her life. Not that she wouldn't be amazing at it, but Sam didn't view marriage the same way she did. Her mother had had the fortune to meet an amazing man, be swept off her feet, and remain blissfully married for many years until her husband, Sam's father, passed away unexpectedly. Sam didn't want to take the risk of what she watched her mother go through after her father had died, one day there, the next gone with no warning thanks to a car accident.

  "Okay, mom."

  "I hear you, Sam," Sylvia said, interrupting her sad thoughts, "loud and clear. I've met a few meatheads in my time, too. So, I get it, but to prove you wrong, that a man with muscles can have brains, as I was saying, I have a savior for you. But, it is going to be tricky making this happen."

  "I really don't need a savior," Sam mumbled, earning her a look from her mother that warned hush or you won't get a piece of this flour, sugar, and butter I have tortured into a cake as I've dealt with your nonsense.

  Her mother a stress baker, she'd been getting that look for years. However, she'd yet to be denied a piece of cake, and had the figure to prove it. However, it wasn't her fault the world's view of women paired skinny with beautiful. She remained happy with herself, and while on her yoga mat she could teach women about loving themselves as they were.

  Sylvia had stopped, and Sam surmised her eagerness by the quirk in her eyebrow and crooked, but tight smile that the woman contemplated this latest arrangement of hers with great excitement. Perched on the edge of her chair, hands clasped tight in front of her, eyes wide, smile growing, this professional made Sam more than a little nervous as to the diabolical plan she'd cooked up.

  Sam caved. She'd take the date, whomever it was with, and get the cake, the one bright spot in this whole episode. She'd appease her desperate mother, and then move on, maybe not visit for a few weeks. She'd buy her own cake next time she had a craving for one.

  Maybe the guy would be all right, if Sylvia were being truthful that he had both brains and brawn. If the woman truly had found such a miracle guy, then maybe she'd get laid, too. A two for one special: her mother happy and hopeful for a time, and Sam could end her current sexual dry spell. Not a bad deal, right? Truth be told, sex surpassed yoga any day of the week for that sense of total relaxation, assuming the guy gave a crap to care for the woman's needs as well. She'd coached more than one of the selfish sons of b
itches into pleasing her.

  "What are you cooking up over there, Sylvia?" Sam's mother asked, upping Sam's nervous quota for the day.

  This visit had undone all her classes had gained her this morning. Her shoulders were back to supporting her ears, her breaths had become short and erratic, while a headache building from the tightness in her neck threatened to ruin what remained of the day. She'd be going back to the studio to do a few hours of restorative poses after this. Thankfully the studio closed to the public on Friday and Saturday nights, leaving her the option.

  "Oh, Samantha," her mother belted out in a high pitched tone, tightening the muscles in her lower back, too, "I've seen the woman do her magic before, pair up shifters, have them fall madly in love. I can tell she is onto something good here for you."

  Madly in love. It wouldn't happen to her, she wouldn't let it, but still, this pensive, almost worried rush of emotions that mixed with Sylvia's excitement hit Sam like a tornado. Something mischievous twinkled in the woman's blue eyes, like she seriously contemplated a profitable crime or something.

  "You are creeping me out here, Sylvia," Sam voiced as her heart threatened to explode in her tight chest, making it nearly impossible to catch her breath.

  The walls of her mother's kitchen began to close in on her, the red cabinets and white appliances appearing too bright and making her blink her surroundings away. While the kitchen had never been to her personal taste, it held a sense of comfort for Sam. So many good times had taken place in that room. When they'd bought the place, the kitchen's old metal cabinets had been red, and rather than spend the money to replace them, her mother had accented with patriotic decorations. Again, while not what Sam would have chosen to do, the place had grown on her, she'd come to love it because of all that had happened within these walls, the good and the bad, the memories of her childhood.

  "Okay, look, this guy, he's really special," Sylvia finally began talking again, "and he's really worth it. But, much like you, he isn't interested in me fixing him up. However, unlike you, he has no family to help me out, to talk him into it. We have to get at him another way, through his friends, but in a more subtle fashion. So, while this is way out of character even for me, I need to hook you up with an acquaintance of his first. And, you may have to go out with this acquaintance a few times before the match, the man I'm thinking of, will find an interest in you."

  "Oh no," Sam said, leaning in close to Sylvia as her mother had set about loading the cake into the oven. "I didn't sign up for more than one date, and I definitely didn't sign up to date one guy to get another's interest. It sounds wrong, to be honest. And, besides, I simply don't have enough dresses for that nonsense. I am appeasing my mother for the moment here, not looking for true love."

  Sam stopped, wincing when she realized that thought had slipped out of her mouth as her thoughts had circled around what this dating agency person had suggested, date one guy to gain another's interest.

  "Yes, dear, but once true love comes looking for you, trust me, you will change your mind, as will your savior. It's just going to take a little more finagling with you two. But in the end...oh, in the end, it will be so worth it."

  "Stop calling him my savior. I don't need one, if you haven't noticed. And stop that smiling and wringing your hands thing like you're so pleased with your diabolical plan."

  "It's not exactly diabolical, though I do what I can. But dear, it is you who haven't noticed that you do need a savior. You do. Even if it is a shifter as stubborn as you are. What a match made...well, by me of course," Sylvia said, letting herself get a good laugh out of her own joke. "Anyway, before you protest and we have to have the same old boring I'm-fine-on-my-own argument, think of the dating of the first man as an experiment. You want brains, well the first guy has them in spades, as well as the butt load of money those brains have gotten him in the whole world wide web business."

  "Brains, huh? Well, that will be different."

  "Yes, it will, and I know you are looking for something different, and that is what I will be getting you with both men, each in their own way. Trust me."

  "I'm not looking for something different. I'm not actually looking at all," Sam said, going for broke, her frustration level letting the truth flow, mother in the room or not.

  "Which means you are looking for something different."

  "What? I just said..."

  "I know what you said. It's what I heard," Slyvia interrupted. "I heard, beyond the words spoken, that you are done with the dating scene, and so you want something different than what it had offered you so far. What you don't realize is when you find this different, unique if you will, it is then you will fall in love, even if you don't know yet that it's what you are looking for. So, trust me. I know these things. You are."

  I am not. I will not, Sam yelled in her own head.

  "You are talking in riddles," Sam protested, "and I'm sure to you this whole trusting you idea doesn't sound dangerous at all, this whole trusting you with this crazy idea of dating one guy to meet another."

  Sam paused, hating herself for using air quotes both times she'd said trusting you.

  "But how is this fair to the first guy?" she continued on after a therapeutic sigh. "Are you not using him? Isn't this all unethical given you run a dating agency?"

  "Yes, in a way, but he owes me anyway. Big time. I will even tell him upfront that it isn't his match, but someone I would like him to meet. I'll even tell him he will be doing me a favor. He won't ask questions. He, unlike you, isn't opposed to playing the field, nor is he opposed to doing a favor for a friend, no matter how extreme the favor may be. He's a good man. This is why I have never had to fix him up yet. He's perfectly content for the time being to be a player, and I know in my heart that his time is coming. Listen, sweet cheeks, and I'm talking that tight and generous young ass of yours, darling, I know this is one of the craziest, ass-backwards hook-ups I've ever proposed, and I have created some doozies. I just feel this is the right match, and that this is the only way to make it happen given issues with the other party involved in it. Unconventional? Sure. I'm even breaking one or two of my own rules here. So stop looking at me that way. Yes, I have a few rules. I am a businesswoman, too. But, please, Sam, say you are game to my so-called diabolical plan."

  "I would need my head examined to go along with this. It isn't what I signed up for, not that I signed up for anything, but rather was ambushed into it. Regardless of all of that, I was just trying to appease my mom for a bit by agreeing to one date, not some outrageous, and unethical plan to fix me up with one guy in some hopes I will meet another guy who wouldn't let you fix him up. Hell, maybe I will like the guy. He does sound smart to ignore your intrusions."

  When Sylvia shrugged, her eyes still sparkling, Sam experienced a sudden wave of exhaustion. Between her two classes this morning, one aerial yoga and the other a power flow class, and now this conversation, it would take a lot more than chocolate cake to wake her up. One glance at her mother's face tugged at her sluggish heart. So, even knowing what it would cost her, she agreed to this string of hellish dates which would force her to go shopping, another drudgery. The cake had better be damn good.

  So, she agreed and quickly changed the subject. She figured questioning Sylvia about her agency would do the trick. The woman seemed quite the spitfire, so she figured she'd have some amusing tales to tell if she asked her about her most outrageous fix ups to date, beyond hers.

  The smell of chocolate filled the air, appeasing the savage beast in her to some extent. With her elbow resting on the counter, she plopped her head into her hand, to listen to tales of romance as her mouth watered, passing the time until she could jam a fork into a piece of cake. While her mother began the ganache and frosting combo she used to layer and ice the cake, Sylvia's stories weren't hampered by the mere whirl of the blender.

  Find more from Her True Savior online at Amazon...

  Whiskey & Witchcraft

  Whiskey

  &


  Witchcraft

  A Dark Paranormal Romance

  Kiki Howell

  About

  Ciaran Byrne is suddenly thrust into the public eye as the face of the Byrne family by the death of his father, also inheriting his family's scandals. Unfortunately, a legacy of misused magick runs like fire through his veins, and a demon trapped inside of him by a spell turns him into a beast like no other.

  He knows no way around the demon failsafe his father had planted inside him. Still, over a decade later, he's convinced somewhere in him a better man lurks.

  As if everything else isn't reason enough to keep his blood pressure high and his nights sleepless, Allanah Adams, the woman he'd once been forbidden to love, roams into his life.

  He can see she assumes what the media tells her is true. He begs--no, orders--her to let him prove he can be different from his family, but can he prove it to himself and everyone else around him?

  Chapter One

  His heart skipped a beat, stopped a full, breath-stealing second, as if anticipating his death, before it began to thump again in his chest, hard enough to knot his stomach and build a throb in his head. He sucked in a burning rush of air, his lungs frantic for breath as his eyes widened, fixed on the source of the terror moving his way.

  The crash of an ocean wave below echoed eerily through his home. An electric current raced over his skin the same moment the lightning of an impending storm lit the sky, reflected across the wall of windows in his great room, and blurred his view for a few lingering seconds. The heat of panic crawled over his neck as he waited for his vision to clear.

  As he blinked his eyes in rapid succession, momentarily blinding himself, he hoped to eliminate what had to be an apparition of his drunken mind. Before he could stop it, a throaty burst of laughter escaped him as the need to move made his muscles jump despite the fact he remained frozen in place. If anyone paid him any mind, he didn't notice. His eyes focused in on the origin of his horror. Any attempt at false bravado dripped away like the sweat burning his neck, soaking the shirt on his back. He thought to take a large gulp of whiskey, desiring the curing of his dry mouth, erasing the unpleasant toxic taste left there. Only, he dared not move his trembling hand as he white-knuckled the glass in it, fearing it might slip from his clammy grip before reaching his quivering lips.