Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
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HAVE WAND, WILL TRAVEL:
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
A Magic and Mayhem Kindle World Novel
TERESA J. REASOR
Table of Contents
A THANK YOU AND A FOREWORD
THE BLURB
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
AMAZING MAGIC & MAYHEM AUTHORS
BOOKS BY TERESA REASOR
A THANK YOU AND A FOREWORD
I’m so thrilled Robyn Peterman, the mastermind of the Magic and Mayhem Kindle World, invited me to be a part of it for the second time. Thank you so much, Robyn.
I learned from writing my first novella for M&M, Have Wand, Will Travel, that I could never hope to emulate her style or her humor.
I think it might be a genetic predisposition, the ability to make readers laugh until they wet their pants or snort coffee through their noses onto their Kindles.
Whatever it is, I didn’t get it in the quantities Robyn has. So, I’m going to be myself, and give you a taste of what I write best—which is action, adventure, suspense, and romance…with a few chuckles along the way.
THE BLURB
Somewhere off the beaten path in the World of Magic and Mayhem, there’s a little-visited trail that leads to a realm of vampire politics, danger and maybe even death.
Phoebe Stewart only agreed to marry Trevor Ricci to secure peace between their warring vampire clans. When her groom poisons her during the wedding ceremony, and her life expectancy falls from forever to a week, “till death do you part” takes on a whole new meaning. When she catches up with her new husband, she intends to stake and roast the traitorous, narcissistic weenie.
Especially now she’s met Hunter Knox, the bad boy alpha vampire she’s been waiting for her whole death.
Agent Hunter Knox works for the National Vampire Security Council. When a poison that can actually kill their species surfaces, he’s dead set on finding and destroying it. But once he meets Phoebe, and realizes she only has days to live, the need for an antidote takes priority.
And the more he gets to know her, the more he suspects she may be as important to vampire kind as she’s becoming to him.
Read Book 1 of the Magic and Mayhem Kindle World: Have Wand, Will Travel Now!
CHAPTER 1
Friday, June 13th
Almost Assjacket, West Virginia
WEDDINGS SUCK.
Vampire weddings blow.
Phoebe sighed and folded her arms atop the gallery railing to peer down at the crowd.
The long line of guests stretched through the main entrance foyer and out the back door like a huge, deadly serpent.
Trevor, her groom, crossed the foyer, shook hands with someone in line, and spoke to them. Should she concentrate hard enough to eavesdrop on their conversation? Trevor moved on down the line, making the Impulse moot.
The groom was handsome. If she’d met him in a club or during a function, he might have appealed to her…at least until he opened his mouth. His black hair gleamed in the soft light of the enormous chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. His sky-blue eyes, strong jaw, and perfect mouth were easy on the eyes. His pale skin glowed, and even appeared to have a little color if she saw him soon after he fed. Yes, his looks were a definite lure, but after their first evening together, she recognized him for the narcissistic weenie he was.
When he smiled with just the right amount of lip, he could pass for human, something which might come in handy during business meetings with non-vampire species, but only made him seem manipulative to her.
Which was what this wedding represented. A high-level, well-attended business meeting to seal the deal on a crucial merger. And it was also what turned her off about him as soon as they met. The merger, and his calculated, manipulative charm.
What self-respecting vampire allowed themselves to be sold off as fast as a marked down Gucci handbag. Or was that thought a product of her long-dead human side sitting up and screaming in protest? After all, hadn’t she allowed herself to be put into the same position?
Because she had to obey her sire. Whatever he needed of her, she was forced to agree to. But she had expected more consideration from Arthur. She tried to set aside the hurt, but it still knotted like a fist in the pit of her stomach.
However, dwelling on it would not change anything.
She shifted her attention to other concerns. Like what the hell they were supposed to do with the nine hundred wedding gifts. Was she expected to write nine hundred thank-you notes? That was so not happening!
As soon as Trevor disappeared into the study, Phoebe strode across the gallery and down the hall to her suite.
The reasons behind the marriage were as medieval as the suit of armor in her sire’s study. The bonding of two master vampires’ territories through the marriage of their…for lack of a better word…children, smacked of the medieval as well.
The pomp and circumstance surrounding the whole thing was tiresome in the extreme. Why couldn’t they go to Vegas, simply do the deed, and get it behind them? But other vampires seemed to enjoy these rare social occasions, where the conversations sounded like veiled threats, and the likelihood of violence was balanced on a razor’s edge.
She’d only been to two weddings in her fifty-seven years as a vampire. This one was the second. And the first hadn’t ended well for her either, since one of the groomsmen, one of her sire’s minions, was responsible for her current condition, and the exclusively liquid diet it required.
And she was still pissed about it.
Today she craved a cheeseburger so badly she wanted to rip someone’s head off. Even after all this time, she could still taste the delicious combination of beef, melted cheese, grilled onions, fresh tomato, and pickles. Her salivary glands kicked in, and she swallowed.
She’d tried eating one right after her transition. It had not ended well. She shuddered at the memory. Her undead system was as slow as a snake’s, and insisted on a liquid diet she could absorb at her leisure. And, contrary to popular myth, a small meal every other week sufficed to sustain her. Maybe not as well as her sire would like, but well enough for her to bench-press a car if she needed to.
She did get to look twenty forever, though. There was always a trade-off, wasn’t there? Which brought her straight back to the issue at hand.
This farce of a wedding.
She glanced at the clock and estimated how much time she had until she would be forced to make an appearance.
Her bedroom was decorated in cream and gold. She liked light—craved it—and since she didn’t get to hang out in daylight anymore, she had to get her fix where she could. Crossing to the one large chair positioned facing the far bedroom wall, she sat down to concen
trate on the three bold, beautiful images of the southeastern Kentucky mountains, the last photos she took before becoming a vampire. Blown up to poster size, they took up much of the empty wall space, and allowed her to enjoy sunlight in the only way open to her. And the illusion of sunlight allowed her to meditate, which calmed the wild nerves twisting her stomach into knots and kicking her usually slow-beating heart into a frenzy.
Finally, she heard the knock she’d been expecting. “Come in, Arthur.”
He walked in, frowning. “Phoebe why are you not dressed?”
Arthur Stewart had become a vampire at age thirty, in the 1200s. Though he’d lived in America since the Revolutionary War, he still spoke with a hint of a Scottish accent. His russet hair flowed back off his forehead, thick and healthy, and his pale skin still retained some color from the scattering of freckles across his cheekbones. Dressed in a dark Armani tux with a bow tie, he looked quite dashing.
“I still have time, Arthur. How long does it take to put on a dress and brush my hair?”
“Why is there no one here with you to help you prepare?”
Because their thrilled babble had been driving her crazy, and it was extremely important for her to remain calm. “I sent them away. I’ve been dressing myself since I was three. I think I can handle it.”
Arthur lifted the small chair before the dressing table, set it in front of her, and sat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.
“Your life will not change as much as you think, Phoebe.”
She remained silent while she studied the pictures over Arthur’s shoulder. It isn’t going to change at all.
“Do you not find Trevor handsome?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He knows he is.”
Arthur’s lips twitched suspiciously. “Charming?”
“Not particularly.”
His brows rose at that. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t try to put a positive spin on things, Arthur. You’ve talked to the man. He’s manipulative and slick. It’s a game to him to see how easily he can charm someone, then once he’s done so, he gets bored and moves on to the next challenge. He has no empathy for, or interest in anyone, but himself.”
“But he is interested in you.”
“Yes, the same way an entomologist is interested in a bug.” But only because she wasn’t impressed by Trevor. A new experience for him, she was sure.
There was a notch carved between Arthur’s brows as he said, “So you feel nothing for him? No attraction at all?”
“No, I don’t. It takes more than a pretty package.” For the first time she felt distrustful of her sire’s motivations. And wary.
She’d observed how Trevor treated the servants when he thought there were no witnesses. There was a cruel streak in him, as there was in all vampires. Including herself, when she needed there to be. But he enjoyed being cruel only to those he knew were weaker.
She suppressed the small twinge of fear. Since Trevor was older and physically stronger, he could easily hurt her if he wanted to. And if they were together long, he would eventually. And if she lost control, she would kill him.
To prevent the temptation, she had already arranged to leave as soon as the “I do’s” were spoken. Arthur clearly no longer needed her input with his business interests. Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to wed this male. And since he was cutting her loose, she could travel or do whatever else she pleased. She’d have time to finish her house in the mountains, and practice her photography once again.
She tried for the thousandth time to feel some excitement about being on her own with the freedom to do whatever she wished. But it was hard to feel excited when her heart was broken.
“What do you expect of him, Phoebe?”
“Nothing. You and Armanno are getting what you want, an end to the violence between his people and yours. Trevor is getting what he wants, control of part of his father’s territory. All three of you can be satisfied.”
“I had hoped to give you a partner to share things with, and who might possibly bring you happiness. It has been a long time since your last sojourn into romance.”
She leaned back into her chair and struggled to maintain her relaxed pose in spite of the rage sizzling under every inch of her skin. “This is not the twelve hundreds, Arthur. Twenty-first century women”—she continued despite his raised brow—“do not need a mate to be happy. We make our own happiness. Since vampire women can’t have children, what do any of us need a man for, anyway?” She needed a boy toy, or at least a vibrator with just the right settings. Trevor would never fulfill either desire.
“Why did you agree to this marriage if you don’t expect to receive anything from it?”
She studied his handsome face. “I didn’t know I had a choice.”
“Phoebe…” he sighed her name. “In light of your nearly sixty years of loyalty, I might have given you a choice, had you asked.”
Surprise and anger tumbled inside her. “Damn fine time to say so, Arthur, now it’s far too late to back out.”
His expression settled into a concerned frown. “Your position in Trevor’s household will serve as a deterrent to violence. You know the recent deaths in Texas and Louisiana have unbalanced the powers in the south. Trevor knows if you are not well cared for, open war might erupt, which would not be good for humans, vampires, or any other species.”
Trevor’s household? She hadn’t planned to stay in a household with “I’m so beautiful I have to check myself out in every mirror I pass” Trevor. She’d be alone in enemy territory.
“It’s a given that they’ll try to kill me, Arthur. They might well have heard rumors.” Why had Arthur so easily given away his secret weapon? She used to believe she was a valued member of his clan. Why had he discarded her so easily?
Unless he hoped to achieve more than peace. Perhaps gain control of the entire southeastern part of the country. And why would he want it? It was headache enough to maintain control of the vampires in Almost Assjacket and the outlying counties.
“You will be providing a valued service to your clan, Phoebe. We need someone who will keep a close eye on both Ricci and Trevor. And you’ll have bodyguards living with you. Not that you really need them.”
But it was not he who would have to put up with Trevor. “I really believed this marriage thing was going to be a symbolic gesture, not a real deal. You don’t actually expect me to be a real wife to him, do you?”
He got to his feet, suddenly very eager to leave. “What the two of you make of this…situation is up to you. But you may want to have a conversation with Trevor at your earliest convenience.” He whipped out the door with vampiric speed.
Her cheeks flared with heat and she leapt to her feet, almost following him, but what good would it do? They had over a thousand guests outside, strolling beneath the stars, listening to music, and filling their glasses at the blood fountain. There was no time for a heart-to-heart with Trevor. Damn him, and damn Arthur as well.
The urge to leave her groom standing alone at the altar spun through her thoughts. It would be an insult to Ricci and Trevor, and an embarrassment to her sire. Everyone would expect Arthur to punish her for the slight. Vampire punishments could be anything from a staking to slow torture, and she preferred to avoid pain whenever possible.
She struggled to keep from shrieking in frustration and bared her fangs instead.
“Shit!”
CHAPTER 2
SHE’D CHOSEN A jade green floor-length gown with a sweetheart bodice and cap sleeves to wear for the wedding ceremony. But that was before Arthur’s enlightening conversation.
To replace the gown, she made a quick run to a nearby store and chose a leather bustier that pushed her generous breasts up and flashed more bare skin than she was used to. But, hey! A girl only got married once.
Leather pants hugged her hips and thighs, and knee-high boots with spiked heels added four inches to her height, making her five eight. Instead of a bou
quet, she carried a riding crop. She loved the way it sounded when she whipped it through the air.
She’d like it even better if she could use it to beat some sense into Arthur.
She pulled her hair back off her face and French braided it down the back. It was better to have one’s hair secured out of the way when intending to bite someone. Kept the blood from making it stiff.
She also played up her makeup. She might not wear it often, but she knew how to apply it skillfully when she needed to.
Arthur’s eyes widened when she appeared, but he quickly assumed an entirely blank face when she sauntered up to him.
“You look very natural in leather, my dear. You should wear it more often.”
The strains of a classical guitar playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D drifted through the French doors and into the hall. She looped her hand through Arthur’s arm while firmly suppressing the desire to rip it off and beat him to death with it.
“Just so you know, Arthur, I know when I’m being played. And I don’t appreciate it.” She couldn’t entirely conceal the bitterness in her voice. “I expected better of you.”
The scent of burning candles was strong as they stepped out onto the long concrete patio, but didn’t overwhelm the perfume of the flowers decorating the buffet tables and the huge urns on either side of the steps.
Arthur shot her a cautioning look. “I don’t know what you mean, Phoebe.”
“Hah!”
Arthur’s mouth twitched. “If you are ready, my dear.”
She thrust her chin up and ground her teeth. “‘Let the wild rumpus start.’” She couldn’t wait to get this over with and be on her way.
Chairs were arranged in a huge semicircle, divided by a long aisle down the center. Trevor’s sire, Armanno Ricci, and the rest of his entourage and guests, sat on the right, while Arthur’s sat on the left.
Phoebe often read the phrase, “Silence is louder than words,” but she had never truly believed it until she started down the aisle to join the two tall males on the platform framed by an arbor woven with black roses.
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