by Eve Langlais
“I really should introduce cousin Mara to him,” Jinjur mused aloud.
“I thought you hated Mara.” Theirs was a rivalry that put holes in the walls.
“I do. Which is why she’s perfect. He’ll date her—not for long because she’s the rebound girl—then I’ll swoop in to console him. And not feel any guilt that I rescued him from that twat-waffle.”
The worst part about her scheme? “That is actually quite a sound plan, but you’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“His ex-girlfriend isn’t dead. Which means, she’s a temptation. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“Good point. Maybe we should find out where she lives and make sure she moves on.”
I didn’t ask Jinjur to elucidate her meaning, mostly because I didn’t want to know if it meant pushing this mystery lady down a set of stairs or simply ensuring that she was fucking someone else.
“You know who might know more about this dude and his ex? Nosy Aunt—”
“Rosy!” Jinjur exclaimed. “I’m going to find her.”
With my sister gone, I could now move in on the Romeo.
“Psst,” I hissed, trying to distract him from the succubus falling out of her bikini currently offering him a soothing massage.
“What?” Desmond glanced over at me.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Do we know each other?”
“We do now. Ozmodeus Alexopolous.” I held out a hand, and the other man shook it. Firmly. I could feel the strength in him. See the command in his bearing. Good clothes meant possible wealth. All his teeth. I liked him less and less.
“You’re a shapeshifter.”
“Yup. And you’re…” I frowned as I sniffed him. A hint of brimstone and heat. Ashy, smoky heat. But not a demon.
Desmond smirked. “I’m a dark lord. I rule over the demons in Ha’el. And in my world, your kind are nothing but pets.” The arrogant smile almost met my fist.
“Did you catch something earlier? Maybe a locket?” I boldly asked. Might as well find out before I tossed his pompous ass overboard.
“You mean this?” It dangled from his fist, and he offered me a cold, tight smile. “It’s spelled, you know.”
“But do you know what kind of spell?” I paused for effect. “A love spell.”
“Despite knowing that, you’re here trying to get your paws on it. One wonders why,” Desmond mused aloud.
“The witch it’s keyed to wants it back.”
“And sent you to get it. That’s wise. Because what if we were to be smitten with one another? A dark lord and a witch. It could work. Might fix what ails me…” The words trailed off.
Since Desmond wasn’t handing the necklace over, I lost patience. I blamed my disbelief and slight panic as the guy appeared to contemplate keeping and using the locket.
That couldn’t happen. Wouldn’t happen. I refused.
“Hand it over, and no one has to get hurt.” Some might call it a threat. I thought of it more as fair warning.
“Do you really think you can take me?” Desmond moved into my space, almost nose-to-nose. But I remained taller. Wider.
I snarled.
He snarled right back.
And then Jinjur was there between us, growling. “Don’t you look at my brother like that. Future husband or not, I won’t tolerate it.”
To his credit, Desmond didn’t snap at my sister or lay a hand on her, which made my next move a tad dirty.
“Hey, Jinny, he’s got a love locket on him that’s gonna choose him a wife.” I didn’t specify the fact that it was keyed to a particular woman.
Jinny dove for the supposed dark lord. And she wasn’t the only one. Women came out of nowhere—a few men, too. The pile-on proved intense and thick. A smart man, I stood on the outskirts, watching as fists flew, hands groped, clothing got ripped…things happened that made me happy this was an adults-only deck.
Once the pile of bodies vanished, Desmond lay dazed, and Jinjur stood over him, scowling.
“I think he’s broken.”
“Did you find the amulet?” I had a more pressing concern.
“Nope. Thought I felt the chain at one point, but…” She shrugged.
Dropping to my knees, I quickly rummaged through Desmond’s pockets as he mumbled, “Erela, why did you forsake me?”
Nothing came from my search. The locket had vanished.
10
Jane: Maybe I should just sink the ship.
The locket had once more disappeared. Not for long, I was sure. Its devious magic would keep it in play until it landed on the right man. And given that Oz had been nowhere near it when it soared back onto the boat, I could safely—and a bit sadly—surmise that it wasn’t him.
Not that I wanted Oz to be my mate—even if my girly parts still tingled from that unexpected make-out session. The man could kiss, not to mention ooze sex in a manner that drugged all my senses. In a good way. But also, scary.
The fact that I’d lost control staggered me. In that moment, with the kiss and the feel of Oz’s body on me being the only thing that mattered, I’d finally understood why I had been conceived in public. Hell, I’d almost recreated history.
Totally out of character. Shocking now that I had a chance to step back and examine what had happened. Surely it wasn’t uncontrollable lust making me act irrationally. It had to be the fault of the locket, the spell on it forcing my hormones into overdrive. Convincing my uterus that I needed a man. The magic must be making me horny because no way was this desire for Oz natural.
Even if it weren’t real, it gave me the perfect excuse to put morals and history aside to jump in the sack with him. A quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am to get Oz out of my system.
Would once be enough?
“Ugh.” I groaned aloud, mostly because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. “This is pathetic.” It didn’t help that I’d left him to find privacy in my room. The coffin that only stifled.
I quickly changed out of my damp clothes, opting for a light summer dress and strappy sandals, which by some miracle I’d found in my messy bag after only a little bit of rummaging around.
My damp, frizzy hair irritated in my braids which I’d bunned, so I took the plaits out and ran my fingers through the curls. Go wild, or go home. A cruise, unlike the workplace, was a perfect place to let my hair loose.
I also slid on shorts under my dress. Some of the shorter-stature cruise guests had wandering gazes. I’d just applied lipstick when I felt something. A flutter in my heart. Not the usual tug of magic, but something that had my pulse racing. The love spell wasn’t wasting time. The locket must have found a new victim.
Perhaps I should hunt it down myself and not involve Oz. Each time the locket appeared in his vicinity, it disappeared soon after.
“I’ll go without him,” I grumbled under my breath, preparing to leave the room.
No, you’re not. The voice in my head froze my hand on the door handle.
Swinging it open, I noticed Oz slouching across from my door. At the sight of me, he straightened.
A bunch of things whirled in my head. Questions like, “Why are you stalking me?” “How is it you look so good?” “Want to come inside?” All kinds of brilliant things to say to that handsome hunk of a man. I settled on, “Hey.”
“Hey.” A single, low syllable in reply.
Look at us, masters of conversation.
He scuffed his big foot and ducked his head. “Thanks for saving me.”
Since I wasn’t about to admit that I’d panicked when I thought he might die, I replied with, “Don’t thank me. Purely mercenary reasons. I need you to help me find that locket.” So I could pulverize it and shatter the spell before it put me with someone…who wasn’t Oz.
“That locket’s pretty important. What’s the deal with it?” Oz asked.
“It’s cursed.” A quick reply as I debated telling him the truth or a version of it.
I walked up the
corridor, and he fell into step beside me, the narrowness of the hallway meaning his body brushed mine. Each touch sent a jolt of awareness through me. If he bumped me just a bit harder, I might come before we reached the stairs. I swore my whole body was clenched so tightly, it was a wonder I didn’t combust.
“Cursed? Your grandma said something about it leading you to your fiancé?”
“When did you talk to my grandma about me?”
“The first night of the cruise, when she told me to stay away from you.”
“I can’t believe she’s meddling in my business,” I huffed. “And after what she already did. Grandma is the one who cursed my necklace.”
“How bad can it be? I got the impression she’s fond of you.”
“She is. Grandma loves me tons, but she’s also a meddling biddy, which is why she stole my locket and placed a love spell on it.”
“Hardly a curse.”
“Says the guy who doesn’t have his grandma trying to set him up with a stranger.”
He snickered. “Why not use a dating service if you’re hard-up?”
My lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not that I can’t find a guy on my own. Grandma just thinks I’m being too picky and taking too long.”
“Sounds familiar.” He pitched his voice when he next said, “You’re not getting any younger, Ozzie, so don’t be too picky, but be picky enough because you know, the blood.” He rolled his eyes.
My lips twitched. “The dark lord forbid I give her a grandbaby with the wrong kind of genes. Bad enough my mother fell for a pirate. Which is why Grandma cast a spell to help me choose the right mate.”
“So, the fellow from last night is your mate?”
I shook my head. “The pirate doesn’t have the locket anymore.”
“Because he tossed it overboard, and that sea monster got it. And came to get you. Meaning, for a moment, he was supposed to be your fiancé. But then the creature returned it to the ship. So, who has it now?”
I eyed him. “You’re the mighty tracker. You tell me.” Because while my pulse still raced, it told me nothing more. Not a direction or a floor to go looking, which meant I needed Oz’s help.
He rolled his impressively broad shoulders. “I haven’t had a chance to locate the target since it got returned. My sister wanted to have a chat.”
The grimace on his face brought a smirk to mine. “She didn’t look too happy.”
“She hasn’t been happy in months. I swear this wedding business has turned her into a monster. Did you know she expects me to wear shorts for the ceremony? Khaki shorts.” Whispered as if it were the worst thing possible.
“Afraid to show off your pasty legs?” Which I already knew to be a lie. I’d seen him naked. His tan went all over. Without lines. As if he spent lots of time outdoors, nude.
“Real men don’t wear shorts and loafers and a collared shirt.”
“You’ll look handsome, I bet.” I fed his annoyance, and when he growled, I laughed.
A full-throated chuckle that had him staring at me. Then smiling. “You should do that more often.”
“What, insult you?”
“Laugh. Smile. Look happy.” We emerged onto a lower deck, and a warm breeze struck my cheek along with a ray of sun.
My light mood was having an effect. “I’m happy.” I said it with surprise.
“If you say so. According to your grandmother, you need a mate.”
I opened my mouth to lie, which would have totally pleased the dark lord if he listened. But instead, I did something odd. I told the truth. “I don’t know if I need a mate, but Grandma’s right. I need something more in my life. I’m content, I have a home, my health, my magic. I had a job until Grandma got me fired so she could take me on this trip. But I’m sure I can find another. Technically, I’ve got everything I need to be happy.”
“No boyfriend, though.”
“Who says I need a man to be complete?”
“My mother. Although, in my case, she’s told me I need a mate to make sure I eat right and get my hair cut so it doesn’t go shaggy.”
“Who can mow the lawn because the neighbors can’t see me using magic on the lawnmower. And carry out the trash.” I grinned as I deliberately threw traditionally masculine roles at him.
“You can hire someone for that,” he teased. “I, on the other hand, need a mate to ensure I don’t forget presents for birthdays and to buy me clothes.”
“What’s wrong with your clothes?”
“They’re comfortable.”
Again, my lips quirked. “You mean like your shirt.” I poked at the hole over his pectoral.
“The more ragged, the comfier.” Said with a grin. He pointed to a set of steep steps. “Let’s go to a higher deck where there’s a nicer breeze and a view.”
I eyed him. “Do I really look like someone who enjoys taking stairs?”
“Are you hinting that I should carry you?”
“Don’t you dare carry me.”
“I accept the challenge.” He swept me into his arms before I could argue. Then I didn’t want to. If the lion wanted to show off his strength, let him. It would save my legs and feet.
He began to climb the steps while continuing our conversation. “Why are you without a boyfriend?”
“Why are you single?” I countered.
“Because I haven’t met my fated mate.”
For some reason, the last bit of that statement bothered. “Fate,” I scoffed. “You’re talking about the mating instinct.”
A chuff of amusement escaped him. I noticed that he wasn’t even breathing hard as he made it to the first landing. The stairs were steep. He didn’t seem bothered.
“The mating instinct is grossly exaggerated.”
“How would you know if you’ve never experienced it?” I countered.
“Who says I haven’t?”
“You’re single,” I pointed out.
“Could be by choice.”
“I’ve heard when you meet your mate the urge to be with her is irresistible.”
He shrugged. “For some, yes, I guess it is. Others have said it isn’t much different from dating other people. And some never get that feeling at all. What of witches? Do you have a certain something that happens when you meet the warlock of your nightmares?”
“No. We make our own choice on who we marry.”
“Unless a love spell is involved,” Oz reminded, and I grew sullen. He reached the desired deck and set me on my feet. I immediately moved away from him.
Oz remained close. “What will you do if you find the locket? Marry the man who has it in his possession?”
“No.”
“Not even if he’s the one?”
“I don’t want magic to force someone to love me.” The admission spilled out of me, and I immediately wanted to take it back. I was a witch. Magic would always be a part of me and my life. What did it matter how I found love?
“It didn’t manage to force you with the pirate or the sea monster.”
“Because they weren’t right for me.”
“Then perhaps the next one will be.” For some reason, he spat the words out angrily.
“No, it won’t. Because I’ll make my own choice.” I leaned against the rail. “I’m going to remove the spell on the locket and prove to Grandma that I’ll be fine on my own. She only cast it in the first place because she worried about me being lonely when she moves out.”
“Is she right?” Oz asked, leaning beside me.
“If I say yes, then I sound pathetic.”
“What if I told you I’m surrounded by family all the time, yet sometimes I feel alone?” He glanced at me. “Family is all well and good, but as I’ve gotten older, I find myself looking for something…more.”
He stared at me.
I stared at him. The distance between us narrowed, our lips close enough to almost touch.
A frustrated yell emerged from a lower deck. A glance over the railing showed a woman stalking away from a
dangling tentacle. The same one we’d tangled with this morning.
It had nothing to do with us, yet the mood evaporated. I put some distance between us, and opened my mouth to give him a lame excuse to leave when Oz said, “Want to be my date to my sister’s wedding tonight?”
I blinked. “I thought your sister warned you away from me.”
“She warned me away from Dorothy. Not Glinda-slash-Jane.”
“You lied to your sister.”
“Yes.”
“About me? Why?”
He grinned. A dimple appeared. “Because I’d hate to break a promise.”
The implication just about knocked me out. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do what they want and stay away?”
“Easy, yes. What I want…” He just stared at me. So sexy. His expression intent.
On me. I couldn’t lie. It made me zing a little bit. Oz had a way of making me feel special. Of igniting parts of me that shouldn’t be paying attention.
Call it weakness or a desire to see what would happen. Whatever it was, I replied with, “Sure.”
Which was how I found myself, a few hours later, sitting on the forward deck at sunset, wearing a filmy, powder blue gown that had mysteriously arrived at my door in a boutique bag. No price tag attached, but obviously new. I actually had shoes to go with it, and left my hair down—because Oz had told me he liked it. I did, however, mousse it into a curly fluff. “Go big,” my mom had always said. Grandma, too. Yet I’d let myself conform to what was expected of me. Why hide my hair?
Luckily, I avoided Grandma. Explaining my date might have gotten me a lecture. She’d not been too happy when she caught me resuscitating Oz. Then I asked her about Shax.
The conversation had ended mighty quickly after that.
A knock on the door had me catching my breath. Holding it for a second, even.
It was him.
My heart hammered. I was thirty bloody years old, and yet I had the worst case of the butterflies.