Tonight and Forever Magical Romances Boxed Set

by D'Alessandro, Jacquie

  “It hardly matters. I’m going to erase your memory before I take you back.”

  “Oh.” Wouldn’t that be a shame? Nick downed the rest of his beer. “Might as well enjoy my last few minutes, then.”

  As she raised her arm, he grabbed her hand and jerked her against his body. The stick clattered to the wooden floor, the sound echoing through the shop.

  Her gaze met his as she struggled for release. It was interesting that she was no match for him physically despite her earlier ability to freeze him in place. “Stop fighting me,” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’d like to see you try.”

  He cupped her cheek. The subtle scent of some kind of exotic flower or herb wafted through the air. Only she could smell as good as she looked. “I want to taste you. It’s been a long, damn night.”

  Her jaw dropped, and he took the opportunity to lay his lips over hers.

  She stiffened for a second, then her body went limp and her mouth responsive. He slid his tongue against hers. Heated desire sizzled through him. His hand contracted against the small of her back, he went hard and he knew a single taste wasn’t going to be nearly enough.

  Chemistry, it seemed, crossed all kinds of boundaries.

  Finally, something he could believe in.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Abia sank her fingers into Nick’s silky, ink-black hair and purred with pleasure.

  It had been a long, long time since a man had excited her to this degree. None of the arrangements her mother had tried to make interested her. None of the Queen’s suitors had had this man’s magnetism, confidence or skill. Who knew a caporal could—

  She jerked her head back and struggled to escape his hold.

  Breathing as hard as she, he let go, and she stumbled back. “How dare you touch me.”

  “I wasn’t the only one with roaming hands, lady.” Wiping the back of his hand over his lips, his gaze flicked to her wand, lying on the floor. “You gonna wave your stick and turn me into a frog?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not a stick. It’s a wand.”

  “Sure it is.”

  Though everything inside her continued to quake with unresolved desire, she easily called her wand to her hand. The tip alternately glowed red and green, a sure sign she was both pissed and aroused.

  “Is that thing like some kind of new age mood ring?” he asked, cocking his head.

  “What?”

  “I get red indicates anger. What’s green mean?”

  “Extreme anger,” she lied.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He held up his hands. “But you obviously could have picked up your little stick the moment I touched you.”

  To argue would be ridiculous. She was more angry at herself than him, but she desperately wished she could ignore the Witch’s Code just once and turned him into a slimy green reptile. Then maybe he wouldn’t look so damn appealing.

  And since his hair had gotten roll-out-of-bed mussed by her own hand, her frustration was all the more acute. How had she lost her senses so quickly and completely?

  “It. Is. Not. A. Stick,” she repeated.

  He sighed.

  Oh, sure. According to him, this whole night was a dream. Well, she’d love to wake up about now.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m not sure you’re going to be happy with the results.”

  Abia was so shocked by the sudden sound of Malburn’s voice, she almost missed the meaning of his words.

  By the Sacred Queen, she’d been kissing a caporal while her uncle was in the next room.

  “He’s a Crossover,” Malburn announced.

  Abia’s stomach clenched. With Gardiff on the loose, a creature with untested powers could be in grave danger. “You’re sure?”

  Malburn drew himself up to his full five feet. “Of course I’m sure. Test him if you don’t believe me.”

  Obviously sensing he was the him about to be tested, Nick backed away. “Ah...hey, this has been great, but I’ve got to get back to the station. If you’ll just point out the exit, I’ll be—”

  “Stay.” Abia flicked her wand, and he lurched to a stop. She gave her uncle a triumphant smile. “Crossover, my ass.”

  “Language, Abia, please.”

  “Sorry, Uncle. It’s been a frustrating night.”

  Malburn looked confused. “But you found the dagger. What could be causing such emotional turmoil that you’ve forgotten all your manners and...” As his musing words drifted off, a twinkle appeared in his eyes. “Just as I suspected. The lieutenant is considered quite attractive to females. Perhaps even more so than the Queen’s last suitor, and he’d been elected Most Pleasing Wizard at the World Tournament.”

  “I’m not distracted by Westin’s looks,” Abia lied, hoping with all her strength she could resist a Confession spell if her uncle cast one. “Perhaps your instincts aren’t as sharp as you believe.”

  Malburn didn’t respond to her rudeness and instead approached Nick. “Lieutenant, try to move.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. Clearly he’d already tried to. And the eye movement wasn’t all that unusual. Did a Crossover’s powers increase over time? Could they be trained to use them more effectively? She honestly knew very little about them, except that they were born into the non-mystical world, but they had mystical abilities. As far as she knew, Malburn was the only wizard alive who’d ever encountered one.

  “Start with the tips of your fingers,” Malburn instructed Nick. “Use all your concentration to wiggle them.”

  Abia held her breath, but for nearly a minute, nothing happened.

  Then Nick’s index finger on his right hand twitched.

  Malburn clapped his hands. “Excellent. Now try to bend it.”

  Abia watched in disbelief as Nick was able to comply instantly. The only mystic who was able to throw off her spells was Malburn. (And, presumably, the Queen. Abia had never actually cast a spell on her Sovereign, since she was fully aware that mystical prison wasn’t a happy place.)

  It took nearly twenty minutes of groaning, sweaty effort, but in that time Nick returned to normal.

  He stared at his hands. “What’s happening to me?”

  “Still think you’re dreaming?” Abia couldn’t help but ask sarcastically.

  His gaze flew to hers and latched on, as if she were the last sight of a drowning man. The need for him that she’d tamped down rose again in a wave. It was now obvious the attraction between them went beyond male and female. Their bodies knew what they’re minds were reluctant to accept—they were powerfully similar and unique creatures.

  Relieved both by the knowledge that her powers weren’t slipping and that she wasn’t drawn to an ordinary man, Abia grasped his hand. “You’re not in New York City anymore.”

  “Yeah.” He slid his thumb across her knuckles, sending shivers of delight through her body. “I think I finally figured that out.”

  “Indeed not,” Malburn said, seeming oblivious to the sensual sparks firing all around him. “You’re in New Mystic City!”

  For some reason, Nick found that hilarious. He laughed so hard he had to lean against the bar to apparently keep from collapsing.

  If Abia hadn’t been smitten with him before, she’d certainly be a goner now. His handsome face had been set in serious lines all night. Being charged with such a critical mission herself, she hadn’t been bothered by his disposition, but oh how lovely it was to see his perfect white teeth and silvery eyes shine with humor.

  Maybe, when her people were safe once again, she could share his joy.

  After assuring Malburn that Nick’s amusement wasn’t some kind of bizarre fit, he cast the Statue spell again, and Nick was able to fight his way free much quicker.

  “Amazing!” her uncle declared. “Abia and I are quite powerful, you know. Very few wizards and witches can break our spells. You’ll have no problem with lesser mystics.” Malburn flicked his wand toward the bar, and a glass filled with purple liquid
zipped into his hand. “Here’s a potion my clerk made up yesterday.”

  Nick sniffed the glass’s contents. “What’s it supposed to do?”

  “It’s supposed to cure hives, but if you don’t have them to begin with, it causes the rash instead.” Malburn pursed his lips. “A curious potion, all in all.”

  “So the worst thing is that I’ll get hives?” Nick pressed.

  “I think so.”

  After this less-than-glowing response, Nick glanced at Abia. She could hardly argue with his trepidation. Her uncle, for all his brilliance, was widely known for unauthorized experiments, as well as using Minglers with questionable skills as assistants.

  But since her own power was matched by few, she was certain she could reverse whatever disaster might occur from Nick drinking the potion.

  Reasonably sure, anyway.

  With a confident smile, she nodded. “Perfectly safe. Drink up.”

  He did.

  And nothing happened.

  No hives, no rash, not even a flush to his cheeks. Malburn waved his wand, squinting as he walked around Nick, checking for any sign of the rash. Abia considered volunteering to provide evidence of areas obscured by Nick’s clothes, but had the sense to direct him into the shop’s restroom to check himself privately before blurting out her idea.

  “No hives,” Nick announced when he returned.

  The burn of excitement lit Malburn’s eyes. “Most impressive. Let’s see what—”

  A puff of purple smoke preceded the appearance of a uniformed butler holding a silver tray. “A message for you, Miss Abia.”

  “Thank you, Conrad,” Abia said, sliding the folded piece of paper from the tray.

  He offered her a dignified bow. “I was instructed to wait for a reply.”

  Abia caught Nick’s thunderstruck expression and made a mental note to explain mail delivery in the mystic world was slightly different from the method he was used to.

  MysticNet

  Inter-Palace Security Force

  Suspected Gardiff apprentice spotted in City Center. Surveillance activated. Will advise ASAP.

  “News from IPSF?” Malburn asked.

  “My team spotted one of Gardiff’s goons.” To communicate her reply, Abia waved her wand over the note.

  Before she could hand the message to Conrad, however, Nick’s fingertips brushed the small of her back, sending tingles of need through her body. “Can I see?”

  Clenching her jaw to combat the spicy, male scent emanating from his skin, she held up the note.

  She was letting him into her world without a blink of hesitation—an unusual move for her. But, frankly, she could use all the help she could muster. And with his abilities, Nick must be an excellent cop. Though he’d undoubtedly considered his professional talents as simple instinct until tonight, his Crossover powers had provided him an advantage his whole life.

  Dagger secured. Need hourly updates. Don’t lose him!

  —Abia

  After handing Conrad the reply, he vanished as quickly as he’d arrived.

  “Mail in the city arrives much slower,” Nick commented.

  “But no,” Malburn said brightly, “you have those clever electronic devices! I proposed a similar system for mystics, but the Messenger’s Union wasn’t pleased.”

  “It’s nice to know we have something in common,” Nick said dryly. “Unions have a lot of power in my world, too.”

  Power.

  Abia stiffened. Amid the night’s odd turns and the discovery of Nick’s hidden talents, she’d nearly forgotten about the danger they faced. A Crossover’s abilities would be incredibly valuable to a mystic determined to dominate others.

  “I need to get Nick home,” she said, wrapping her hand around his arm.

  Malburn frowned. “But he’s ordinary out there. Surely he’ll be happier here?”

  “He stands out here,” Abia reminded him.

  “Hey, I’m not an ordinary cop,” Nick said in protest.

  Abia turned to Malburn. “What if Gardiff or one of his apprentices gets curious about the new guy and comes snooping around?”

  Realization swept her uncle’s expression. “An excellent point, my dear. Your instincts about these things are much better than mine these days.”

  “Gardiff—the career criminal?” Nick asked.

  “An unfortunate bad seed.” Malburn tapped his wand against his palm, and Abia could only imagine the ramifications sweeping through her uncle’s complex mind. “You need protection.”

  Nick shook his head. “I can take care of myself.”

  Abia exchanged a knowing look with her uncle. Crossover or not, Nick had no idea how to effectively use his new powers or the dangers and manipulations of the mystic world. The streets of NYC he probably knew as well as his own thoughts. He was definitely safer there.

  “Take him home.” Malburn nodded for emphasis, obviously agreeing with Abia’s assessment. “I’ll send his things along.” He waved his wand and a box appeared, followed by several stacks of books. After the box had sealed itself—packing tape included—a marker appeared and wrote the address on the box, then everything disappeared. “You’ll find a little light reading when you reach your apartment.”

  “How did you know—” Nick stopped his own query. A light flashed in his silver eyes. Realization? Acceptance? Somehow she knew he’d decided he wasn’t dreaming after all. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. “Never mind. This mystical stuff takes some getting used to, I guess.”

  “It has its perks,” Abia said, thinking of the forces that brought him to her doorstep.

  When her uncle smirked at her, Abia knew she’d been too transparent with her feelings. With him already on the Nick is Mr. Beautiful campaign, she needed to find some stoicism.

  Or at least professionalism.

  The duty she’d been charged with was critical to the mystical world’s survival, and she needed to give the mission all her efforts. If she failed, Gardiff and his minions could take control. Worse, if the scepter was separated for an extended period of time, all power could be drained. They’d all be...ordinary.

  Giving into her passion for Nick Westin wasn’t an option.

  Hadn’t lust played too big of a role in shaping her life already?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Study the books I’ve sent you carefully,” Malburn advised Nick as Abia buttoned her coat. “If you know the spells, you’ll find it easier to resist them.”

  Nick nodded toward Malburn’s wand. “And do them?”

  Malburn chuckled. “No, no, my boy. You’re a Crossover, not a wizard. You’re a rare creature who can resist spells. It’s a marvelous gift, as few mystics can do the same.”

  Nick’s swarthy face turned white. “Creature?”

  Waving off Nick’s alarm, Malburn continued, “Though I suppose we don’t know how rare, since we don’t exactly go around casting spells on non-mystics. I recommended a testing system some years ago, but then there was that incident with the Flame spell, and my grand plan, well...burned up.”

  If possible, Nick grew paler.

  “I’ll make sure he studies, Uncle Malburn.” Abia laid her hand on Nick’s forearm. “We need to get moving.”

  “Don’t you want to change first?” Nick asked her.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”

  Nick’s gaze swept her from head to toe. “Not a thing. There’s a Goth nightclub a few blocks from my place. You’ll blend right in.”

  He was making fun of her. Surely he wasn’t one of those arrogant men who were delusional enough to think they had more power because they were larger physically. “I’ve been shifting from my world to yours a lot longer than you have.”

  “And I’ve lived in New York City my whole life. You don’t exactly blend.”

  “I don’t have to. I’ll cast a Shadow spell.”

  “On me, too? Plus, aren’t you forgetting that didn’t work so well to conceal you from me?�
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  “You’re...a special case.”

  “But there are others like me, and you have no idea how many. If this were my op, I’d—”

  “This isn’t your op. It’s my mission. And it was going fine until you—”

  “I’m thrilled to see you two are getting along so well!” Malburn looked ecstatic despite the tension. “There are often conflicts between Crossovers and mystics—for obvious reasons.” He gave them a reproachful smile. “Remember, cooperation is the key to a peaceful coexistence.”

  “Cooperation?” Abia echoed.

  “What reasons?” Nick asked immediately after.

  Malburn calmly linked his fingers in front of him. “Abia can cast spells. You can resist them.”

  “Not all spells,” Abia insisted.

  Nick simply smiled.

  “I trust you’ll work it out,” Malburn said as he shuffled toward his office. “A most curious night, all-in-all.”

  Throughout the entire exchange, Abia realized she hadn’t released Nick’s arm. Was this how it had begun with her parents? A casual touch that set their skin aflame with sensual need? Was she genetically defective? Unable to resist the lure of passion?

  You’ve never had this problem before, she reminded herself. She couldn’t base her interest in Nick on the past.

  Her parents had made choices based on selfish tradition. Royals weren’t expected to hold true to their marriage vows once the heir was secured. Girl born. Great abilities confirmed. Now, let’s play with others. Love was a temporary state to be lavished on whoever was amenable.

  The fact that the practice turned Abia’s stomach had to be due to Malburn’s constant speeches and tests about loyalty to the Warrior code and her own team. Wasn’t marriage the most personal of teams?

  At its best, certainly. At its worst...well, she’d seen that first-hand, hadn’t she?

  True love didn’t exist. Lust, however, she understood. And could manage.

  She was simply touching Nick in order to guide him back to his world. She could fulfill her duty regardless of the distraction.

  Though why did he have to be so distracting?