The Witch's Familiars: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Harem of Babylon Book 1)

by G. A. Rael

  "Jordan?"

  His voice made her jolt. "Yeah?"

  "You were starting to nod off," he said. "Just thought you might want to go upstairs before it gets too late."

  "Oh, thanks," she murmured. "I probably should get to bed. I'm meeting Cindy tomorrow for brunch."

  He groaned. "Have fun."

  "You're not her biggest fan, are you?"

  "It's not that. I like Cindy, it's just that she's been hounding me to run for the damn town council for years. Her sister's already on it, so I think she's just trying to build an army."

  "Why don't you join? It seems like a good way to help the town and you're all about that."

  "Bureaucracy isn't really my thing. I'd rather expend my efforts on more practical things."

  "Well, if you ever do decide to run, you'll have my vote," she said, unaware that she had leaned in.

  "I've always admired a woman who takes her civic duty seriously," he teased, pausing as if to say something else. Instead of the words she was expecting, his lips claimed hers. The touch was surprisingly warm and gentle, but even more surprising to Jordan than the fact that he had kissed her was the fact that she had returned it.

  Once she realized what was happening, Jordan gasped softly and pulled away. Darren looked away quickly. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "No, I --" Jordan stood quickly, clutching her blanket to her chest. "I really should get to bed."

  "Yeah," said Darren, sullen once more. "Goodnight, Jordan."

  "Goodnight, Darren,” she said, letting the screen door fall shut behind her as she scurried up the stairs. It wasn't until she made it back to her empty apartment and curled up in bed, her heart fluttering wildly, that she took the time to process what had happened.

  She covered her mouth and a ragged breath passed through her fingertips. A kiss. Her first one. It wasn't the way she had always pictured it would be, but now she couldn't imagine it any other way--or with anyone else.

  Eleven

  "There you are," said Cindy, standing to hug Jordan as she entered the coffee shop. "I was worried you wouldn't make it."

  "Sorry I'm late," Jordan said, smoothing her skirt out before she sat down. "It was a late night."

  "Lots of plants to tend to?"

  "You could say that," Jordan sighed. "Are the cappuccinos here any good?

  "The ones I've tried are," said Cindy. "The iced coffee and carrot cake are to die for, though."

  "Sounds great," said Jordan. She followed Cindy's recommendation on what to order once the waitress arrived and used the spare seconds to rehearse her apology one last time. "Cindy, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for walking out on your party like that."

  Cindy waved her off, unfolding a napkin in her lap. “Max told me what happened and Darren filled in the rest, so I don't blame you. Honestly, I'm ashamed of the way folks are acting around here. You'd think they'd never heard of a little hoodoo before."

  Jordan blinked. "You don't think it's strange?"

  "Oh, please, my great grandmother was always throwing salt over her shoulder and fixing up hex bags whenever we had troubles," she said, taking a sip of her newly arrived coffee. "Then there's Henry’s side of the family." She rolled her eyes. "Can't say I put much stock in any of it, but it's nothing to get all bent out of shape over."

  Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad. I was worried I'd have to move again," she admitted.

  "Don't be silly, Cold Creek is a safe haven to anyone who needs it," she said firmly. “Henry and I see to that. As for Darren St. Clair, you'll have to forgive him. He's a good man, he's just got a fatal case of taking himself too seriously."

  "He does seem to take his work seriously, but we’ve made our peace,“ Jordan assured her. "He also seems to care a lot about this town.“

  "Oh, he does. He's just like his father in that regard."

  "His father?" Jordan asked, curiosity overtaking her reluctance to pry. "He was the town doctor, wasn't he?"

  "And a damn good one at that," said Cindy. "Liam and Natalie St. Clair were two of the finest people to walk this earth." Her gaze became distant, looking far past the printed sign on the window. "It's a real shame about the accident. It happened fifteen years to the day you had your encounter with him in the diner. I suppose it's no wonder he exploded on you. He always gets a bit broody this time of year."

  "Can I ask what happened?" Jordan asked, figuring it wasn't really an invasion of privacy if it was something that was so widely known. "Did it have anything to do with the factory?"

  Cindy sighed. "I see you've already been filled in on our illustrious history. No, fortunately it had nothing to do with that. I say fortunately because there wasn't a sanctimonious bone in Liam's body. Darren doesn't take after his father in that regard," she added with a snort. "Liam never would have wanted to live to see his warnings about the factory come true. He and Natalie were on their way out of town to visit her sister and they were killed by a drunk driver along the way. Darren was away at college by that point, but sometimes I think he feels like he should have been in the car with them."

  "Why?" Jordan asked, horrified.

  "Because he and his father had gotten into a huge fight after his last visit home," she replied. "Darren went back early. I think he's always blamed himself in some way."

  "His parents don't sound like the kind of people who would have wanted that."

  "What parent would?" asked Cindy. Jordan could think of one or two, but kept it to herself.

  "He's been staying over at the house," Jordan admitted, deciding a subject change was in order. "Someone or something knocked over the plants on my balcony and Mrs. Herrin thought we'd feel safer if someone kept watch."

  "Oh?" Cindy asked, raising her eyebrows. "How did Darren come to be the designated watchman?"

  "We talked after the party," she said, deciding not to fill Cindy in on Hank's actions. She had enough on her plate. "He apologized for the diner thing and we ended up talking all night."

  When Cindy's face lit up with a triumphant expression, Jordan realized divulging that particular detail had been a mistake. "Well, well, well," she said in a satisfied tone. "Looks like my matchmaking efforts weren't a total bust after all."

  "It's really not like that," Jordan insisted. Now she definitely wasn't telling Cindy about the kiss. "He's just different than I thought he was."

  "That's what made me fall in love with Henry,” she said matter-of-factly. "He was different from all the other men in town. And mysterious. Kind of like Darren."

  "Darren has his charms," Jordan admitted. "Whoever he does end up with is a lucky woman."

  "And why not you?" she pressed. "He has a good job, he's good with children and he's about the furthest thing away from a womanizer you can get without--well, you know."

  Jordan laughed. "You sound like you're selling a car."

  "Honey, a car is a much easier sell than a man," Cindy scoffed. "At least with a car you can take it into a shop and have someone bang on it with a wrench until it starts working properly. You do that to a man and the police end up involved."

  Jordan snickered. "Well, you do have a mechanic in the family." She paused. “Come to think of it, why haven’t you tried to pair me up with Max?”

  “I wish I could say it’s because he has a girlfriend, but the truth is, that’s never a permanent obstacle,” Cindy sighed. “I love that boy like my own son, but there has to be at least one woman in this town he hasn’t slept with. Trust me, that’s a fast lane to heartbreak.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Jordan said, surprised at Cindy’s candor regarding her own kin. Then again, it didn’t come as any great shock that Max was a womanizer with those golden eyes…

  “Oh, before I forget." Cindy picked up her purse and dug through it until she produced a colorful flier. A full moon served as the backdrop for a stock image festival and the entire flier was overlaid with the words "Autumn Equinox Festival."

  "It's September twent
y-third," said Cindy. "It's our annual excuse to fry corn with ungodly amounts of butter, throw beanbags into holes and sell overpriced drinks to benefit the town medical fund. This is your official invitation, and also my official plea for you to join my volunteer team."

  "You want me to help?" Jordan asked, surprised.

  "Sure, why not?"

  "Well, isn't it bad publicity? In light of the Stu Herbert thing, I mean."

  "Oh, it's just a kitschy little Fall festival. Besides, all of that sort of fits in with what I need you to do."

  "How?" Jordan asked, growing concerned. If Cindy was just another person in line to use her magic, that would explain why she was so unexpectedly tolerant.

  Cindy's phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. "Oh, shoot. I have to take this, it's one of the festival vendors,” she said, standing to gather her things. "You have to do all this nonsense months in advance. I'll call you later, we'll set up a time to discuss the details."

  "But--"

  "See you!" Cindy called, already halfway out the door before Jordan could process what had just happened. She was fairly sure she was not only attending but somehow involved in the festival. The greater mystery was how Darren had managed to resist Cindy's attempts to get him to run for council for so long. The woman was like a dog with a bone.

  Twelve

  The next few nights passed in relatively uneventful silence. There were no broken pots and no more incidents of harassment on the street. News of Stu Herbert's recovery had simmered down and the town gossip had mercifully turned to other topics. Jordan still didn't know what she was going to do at the festival, but she had a feeling Cindy would be in touch before long.

  As she made her way back from the grocery store well past dark, she felt like a fool for being so relieved that Darren's car was missing from the driveway. She had been shamelessly avoiding him all week and she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at the thought that the night before marked the last of Darren's faithful watch. She couldn't deny the fact that she felt safer knowing he was close, even if she didn't know how to approach him after their kiss.

  "Need some help with those?" Darren's voice came from the side of the house where he was leaning, holding a cigarette in one hand. His unexpected appearance made her jump. "I know you've been avoiding me, but was the kiss really that bad?"

  "I just wasn't expecting you," she said, catching her breath. "Your car isn't in the driveway."

  "It's not exactly a hike," he said, taking a drag off his cigarette. He blew the smoke out in a smooth stream just like she'd seen James Dean do once in a movie. "I can handle a little exercise."

  "Not for long if you keep smoking those."

  "We all have our vices. Just do me a favor and don't mention mine to Mrs. Herrin."

  "Why not?" Jordan asked. "I've seen her smoking."

  "Yeah, but she hasn't seen me smoking," he replied, crushing the withered end of his spent cigarette into the dirt. "She thinks I gave it up."

  "Well, did you?"

  He shrugged, coming down off the porch to take her bags. "Most days."

  "What's so different about today?"

  He paused and for a moment, Jordan thought he might kiss her again. This time, she wasn't at all sure she would have the strength to pull away.

  "Where should I put these?" he asked, lifting the bags.

  "Oh, right," she said, motioning for him to follow her into the house. As relieved as she was that the spell was broken, she wondered what the answer to her question might have been.

  "I get to use the official entrance," he said, smirking. "I feel honored."

  She laughed. "Mrs. Herrin always stays up late Tuesday nights to watch her shows, so there's no need to worry about waking her."

  "Does she ask you to use the fire escape?"

  "No, but I do if I think I'll disturb her," she admitted.

  "That's considerate of you," he said, stopping outside her apartment door.

  "Mrs. Herrin has been so kind to me, it's the least I can do," she said, taking out her keys.

  "She's an acquired taste," he admitted, following her inside as she turned on the lights. "The thing is, once she cares about you there's nothing she wouldn't do for you."

  "I've noticed that," Jordan said, clearing off a space on the counter. "You can just set them here. Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess."

  Darren looked around the mostly neat apartment, save for a few potted plants on the counter and table. The holly had been fitted with a splint on one of its branches. "It looks like a plant hospital in here."

  "It kind of is. Some of them didn't fare too well after the fall, but I couldn't bear to throw them away without at least giving them a chance."

  "Don't you have some kind of cure-all for that?" he asked. She could tell he was just humoring her, but he put on a good show.

  "Plants are delicate," she said, caressing the leaves of the holly. "Tinctures and medicine can only do so much. Even if you can physically keep them alive, that doesn't mean their soul is intact. Sometimes all you can do is wrap the broken pieces and hope they find a way to knit themselves back together."

  "Plants sound a lot like people," he said, coming to stand in front of her on the other side of the counter.

  Jordan looked up at him and swallowed hard. Suddenly she understood then why she'd been trying so hard to avoid him. It wasn't that she was afraid of him but of the way he made her feel. "I've never thought we were so different from them," she admitted softly.

  When Darren's hand pressed against her cheek, she let out a trembling sigh. "I'm sorry about the other night," he began. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I certainly didn't want you to feel like you had to tiptoe around me in your own home."

  "Darren, that's not it," she said quickly. "When you kissed me, I wasn't sure what to make of it. I thought--well, I don't know what I thought. I guess I was just overwhelmed."

  He frowned. "Don't tell me-- Jordan, that wasn't your first kiss, was it?"

  Her face warmed at the incredulity in his tone. She wanted to lie but knew that her blush would only betray her if her poor deceptive skills missed the chance.

  "Holy shit," he murmured, almost under his breath.

  "You said it."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "What was there to say? It's humiliating to be my age and never have even kissed a guy."

  "What? No, it's not. There's nothing wrong with it, I'm just sorry you wasted your first with me," he said in a sullen tone.

  "It wasn't a waste," she insisted. "It was wonderful, actually. Like I said, I just got a little overwhelmed. I wasn't sure what to do when I ran into you next."

  "And now that you've run into me?"

  Jordan smiled, taking a step closer. "Now I know exactly what to do," she said, draping her arms around his neck. Darren was tall enough that she had to look up at him but not so tall that she couldn't reach his lips without standing on her toes. Before she could let her common sense get the best of her, and before the bewildered look on his face could turn into something else, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

  They were every bit as warm and wonderful as she remembered. Maybe even more so.

  Once the shock wore off, Darren returned the kiss and his strong hands settled on her waist. She let out a surprised yelp when he lifted her onto the counter without breaking the kiss, but she opened her legs enough to allow his body to close the space between them.

  His lips pressed gently against hers at first, but soon his tongue moved over them as if requesting entrance. Her lips parted instinctively to grant it and she found his taste sweet and smoky. Jordan had never been to a school dance or had a late-night makeout session in the back of a boy's car, but in that moment, she felt exactly like all those girls in the movies. The ones who let themselves get lured in by the good looks and smoky kisses of the black-leather-jacket-wearing, rebel-without-a-cause bad boy. It was in that moment that she understood, after
years of yelling at "those girls" for being so naïve and careless, just why the bad boy always got the girl.

  At some point during Darren's transformation from her worst fear to the high point of her day, Jordan had become one of "those girls."

  Darren's hand ventured up past her waist and his fingertips casually brushed over her chest. He paused, as if giving her the chance to voice her opposition, but she had none to give. Even when his hand slipped underneath her shirt, all she could do was squeak in surprise.

  He laughed softly in her ear, breaking the kiss in favor of sweeping his tongue along the side of her neck. He moved her hair over her shoulder and placed a series of gentle kisses from her jaw to her collarbone.

  Jordan let out another trembling sigh, struggling to process what was happening. Her experience with men was limited strictly to the realm of fantasy. Even then, her sheltered upbringing had left her with nothing more than classic movies and literature to fuel her imagination. Experiencing the thrill of that first touch--especially at the hands of a man like Darren--was entirely different from imagining one.

  "If it's too much, just say the word," he said, looking down at her with concern in his tone and lust in his gaze.

  "No, it's fine. I like it."

  Darren gave her that slightly off-center grin before lifting her into his arms again, this time placing her on the edge of the bed. Hooking his fingers underneath her sweater, he deftly slipped it over her head and tossed it aside. At first, the exposure made her feel almost vulnerable enough to call it off, but the way his hands rubbed and caressed her flesh made her feel covered in an entirely new way. The ease with which he unhooked her bra and dispatched it made her keenly aware of her own inexperience.

  Surely he noticed, but he didn't seem to mind. He pushed her back onto the bed, taking care to cradle her head as he did so. She had no sooner grown used to the patient caress of his tongue than it began to trail downward, past her ribcage and around her navel in a half-taunting, half-enticing ring. He nipped the tender flesh just below her stomach and she writhed in nervous anticipation as his fingers toyed at the button on her jeans. She instinctively moved her hand to cover her softly rounded stomach.