by Rachel Shane
“And here I thought we waited until at least noon for blood sacrifices. Or is that the kind of thing that falls under the lame excuse of it’s always noon somewhere.” He grinned, trying to get her to crack a smile. Or maybe just crack.
“Oh yeah, sacrifices are only performed past noon for sure. But rituals? Anytime.” It worked, the corners of her mouth quirked as she picked up the dagger and dragged the tip across her index finger. A drop of blood pooled on her skin, reflecting the sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains. She squeezed the drop into the mug, shaking her finger and then covering it with a white cloth that had disguised itself as a napkin. “If you’re nervous, I know how to fix that.”
And then she lifted the lacy lingerie over her head, wearing nothing but the white cloth covering her bleeding finger. Cole wanted to center his eyes on her amazing breasts but his vision kept drifting in the wrong direction, flitting between the dagger and her finger. “That kind of uniform would definitely help for the ritual I had in mind.” His ritual involved condoms and her on all fours.
She disinfected the dagger with alcohol—and probably a dash of magic—and handed it to him, pointy side facing her. “Your turn.”
He grabbed the dagger in shaking hands, all joking vanishing from his lips. “What exactly am I signing here?” Because the last time he signed a contract in blood with her, they’d both ended up almost dying. He’d prefer to avoid scenarios like that. He’d also like to avoid any scenario that involved her putting back on her clothes.
Delilah lifted the tray off his lap and set it on the bedside table, then she climbed on top of him, straddling him in just the right place. His body instantly responded as she gently rocked against him despite the pesky boxers he still wore under the sheets.
“This will break our initial agreement.” She leaned down and pressed her lips against his, hard and fierce. The dagger fell from his hands and he wrapped his arms around her, letting out a desperate breath as her hips worked. “You’ll no longer be indebted to me.”
The first contract he’d signed with Delilah—before they’re dual near-death experience—involved him agreeing to help her with whatever she needed as long as she helped him. She’d confessed that she needed his help in cursing someone but hadn’t said anything more in days. And she wasn’t saying anything now as her lips moved against his, fierce and melodic. Her hand reached down below their bodies and tugged his boxers off. A condom appeared in her palm as if she’d conjured it out of thin air—and she probably had. He didn’t care, he was so lost in her intoxicating jasmine scent, burying his face in her neck. She slid it on him and took him inside her. It felt amazing to be so close, her legs wrapped around his waist, her breath growing heavy in a way that made him know he was doing this to her. That he was creating magic for her for once.
He forgot everything except this. The feeling welling in his abdomen, growing stronger as electric rivulets shot through him. She kept one hand steady on his back as she reached for the dagger with the other.
He pulled back, studying her, trying to focus on the dagger in her hand and not the sensation gearing up to explode inside him. “But—” he gasped out. “I want to help you.”
Delilah shook her head, moaning as she did so. “I promise you,” she breathed, heady and intermixed with panting. “You don’t. Plus—” Her eyes slipped closed and she arched her back, her breasts inching toward Cole’s face. “I can’t risk it,” she whispered, the words clearly hard for her to get out past the pleasure coursing through her.
Can’t risk it? That statement was enough to bring clarity Cole. He opened his mouth to ask but she let out a loud scream, her body shuddering on top of him. God, he loved making her come. It was enough to trigger his own orgasm, despite the way his brain was trying very hard to ruin this for him. His own breath came out heavy as the explosion shot through him, eliciting a scream of his own.
Their bodies rocked together a few more times, sweaty, happy, before she let out a sigh and collapsed next to him, the dagger still in her hands. Still pointed at him.
He flopped backward on the bed, draping an arm over his forehead, trying to make sense of what was going on. She was clearly trying to distract him. Weaken him. Tempt him. And God was he tempted. He wanted to take her again, right now. Give in to whatever she was suggesting. Except… “Why can’t you risk it?”
“Damn,” she whispered. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I said that.”
“I’m a poker shark. I know when people are trying to trick me.”
She kissed his nose. “I’m not trying to trick you. I’m trying to protect you.” Her face grew serious again. “The last client who tried to help me via the same contract you signed ended up decapitated in a green garbage bin.”
Sharp dread landed with a thud in Cole’s stomach. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“The one before that,” Delilah continued, “had her memory wiped from a very powerful and irreversible spell. She had to re-learn everything, including basic language and swallowing skills.”
Cole gulped.
“The one before that lost use of his vocals. Straight out of The Little Mermaid.” Delilah leaned forward, her hair draping over his bare shoulders, and pinned him with a gaze so intense, Cole burrowed deeper into the mattress. “This is dangerous—and I won’t be able to help you if you go through with it.”
Cole’s heart was beating fast, a sense of urgency racing through him. Run, it demanded. Not from her, but from whatever she was trying to protect him against. Because it sounded scary as hell. “Why—” His throat was dry and scratchy, so he cleared it. “Why won’t you be able to help me?”
Delilah reached over to her nightstand and yanked out a heavy stack of papers. She flipped through them and slapped one paragraph on page nine hard, with a sound that made Cole’s teeth snap. “One of the clauses in the contract we signed makes saving those who help me exempt from my vigilante curse.”
Cole swallowed hard. Delilah had been willingly put under a curse that called her every night at dusk to prowl the streets and help those in need, Superhero style. If she didn’t give in to the need, her body would ache and revolt, making her physically sick until she scratched the desperate itch in the form of helping someone. It was this curse that had almost been her downfall when she’d saved Cole. And it was why Cole was so eager to return the favor and help her with her quest.
If Delilah needed help, he had to give it to her. Even if it was dangerous. Even if it would get him killed. She’d almost sacrificed everything for him.
Cole lifted his chin as he gently pried the dagger out of her hands and set it on the nightstand with a final sounding little clink. Delilah’s shoulders started to sag but Cole pressed a single finger beneath her chin and lifted her face toward his gaze. “What can I say?” He grinned. “I’m a gambler. I’m willing to throw in all my chips and bet on you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed for a few moments, lashes vibrating on her cheeks. Her face was a mix of pain and relief, as if both emotions were warring for prominence. “The World Poker Championship is in four days.” Her words were a whisper, like she couldn’t bare to say them out loud.
Cole let out a small laugh. “I know. I’m trying not to think about it.” Cole had won his spot in the tournament by the skin of his teeth thanks to a lucky bet he had no business playing without the cards to back it up, beating out his best friend now turned enemy Derek Hamel. Now, even more, Cole needed the money he might get for winning the tournament. Now that he had his three nephews in his temporary custody after his sister landed in a mental hospital as a result of his curse, he needed the cash desperately. He’d saved up just enough to cover tuition for Jonah’s, the oldest one, private school, but that didn’t factor in costs for preschool or after school care for the other two. He had to win.
He wasn’t sure he had it in him to win.
But it seemed Delilah was counting on him winning too. “You already have a spot in the tournament,” she continue
d. “It’s the perfect opportunity—which is why I need to break the curse now, before the tournament begins.”
He trailed his finger in concentric circles over her collarbone. “I’m staying in the tournament. I’m helping you. So why don’t you skip to the part where you tell me why I need to be in the tournament?”
“The tournament is being organized by Kendrick McCoy.”
Cole’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. I know.”
Because who didn’t know Kendrick McCoy? Or more accurately, who did? He was notorious for owning the most luxurious casino in all of Las Vegas. Hell, in all of the world. Every inch of the inside and outside was covered in lavish gold filigree. The cheapest rooms cost upwards of five thousand a night. The most expensive could cost the average person an entire year’s salary per night. He was known for throwing exclusive parties celebrities flocked to, the invitation being the hardest to get and the most coveted. The stuff that went down at the parties was the epitome of the famous phrase what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. He single handedly put together the World Poker Championship, trumping the original one that had made Texas Hold’em so popular in the early 2000s. He’d revolutionized Las Vegas, drawing flocks of tourists eager to stand outside and gawk at his empire since entry into the elite casino area cost a cool million. He was the Mark Zuckerberg of hotels. He was a constant source of news on all the buzzy media sites.
He was also an enigma.
He never showed his face. Ever. No one knew what he looked like and that was part of the mystique. The intrigue. The reason people flew from all over to Las Vegas aside for the obvious reasons of losing money at casino tables. He was the Lock Ness monster and every tourist wanted to be the first person to catch a glimpse.
“Then you know he’s impossible to locate and his fortress is impenetrable to infiltrate,” Delilah said.
Cole let out a sharp laugh. “Unless you have a couple thousand at your ready.”
“It’s not just money. His whole empire is protected by spells preventing magic. Against me, specifically. But any person who is magically inclined who tries to enter his casino, his penthouse, or even his fucking parking garage—can’t. The consequences are depending on that day’s flavor of spells but I’ve seen someone burned alive. Someone else ricocheted off an invisible force field and flung hundreds of yards before she landing in moving traffic. I’ve seen someone else simply go insane the instant her toe crossed over the invisible threshold.”
Goosebumps prickled over the back of Cole’s neck as he figured out another thing Kendrick McCoy was. “He’s a witch?”
Delilah nodded. “The most powerful one I’ve ever seen, though there’s a reason for that. He siphons power and energy from any human who sets foot into the casino. Most don’t even realize—they feel a little light headed, or maybe come down with a generic cold a few days later—but the ones who linger in the hotel, who stay there for days, they get it worse. They develop cancers a few years later. Have heart attacks after a big steak dinner months after their stay. It’s untraceable, but people are fucking dying because of him and he happily churns their demise into energy he can use to fuel his magic. He didn’t get rich because he earned it. He got rich because he weakened enough people to take what he wanted.” Delilah’s hands curled into fists. “All these people are dying and there’s no way I can stop it because I enter the damn premises.”
Her breath was coming ragged now, her face pained. Cole placed a hand to her shoulder, understanding. “Your vigilante curse demands you help them but you can’t.”
She swatted him away. “I want to help them. I want to save them. Independent of the vigilante curse.”
And if she wanted it, he wanted it to. Even if he turned out incinerated or decapitated or whatever other medieval torture Kendrick wanted to deploy. “What do you need?”
“I need someone who can’t be traced back to me. Who has no magical ability of their own. Who can get close to him.”
Cole winced. For some reason, this truth of his lacking stung him deep in his core even though until a few days ago, magic to him was just a ridiculous fairy tale in the stories he stopped reading as a child.
“I need someone with no magical ability to somehow put a curse on someone with the world’s supply of magic at his fingertips to steal. It’s insane. It’s impossible. It’s going to get us both killed.” She sighed. “But it’s the only way to stop him. A curse that will bar him from performing magic.”
Cole swallowed. It did sound impossible. It sounded like a death wish. “I’m in.”
Delilah bit her lip. “But I haven’t even told you the worst part. Kendrick McCoy is also my ex-boyfriend.”
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Other titles by Rachel Shane
Young Adult
Alice in Wonderland High
Kasey Screws Up The World
Rhythym & Clues
New Adult
Cunning Linguist, A Campus Crushes Prequel Novella (Fallon's Story)
Premature Evacuation, Campus Crushes, Book 1 (Mackenzie's story)
Master Probation, Campus Crushes, Book 2 (Bianca's story)
A Bone to Pick, Campus Crushes, Book 3 (Erin's Story)
Adult
Gravebound, Magical Entanglements vol 1 (exclusively available in the Under Your Spell anthology)
Cursebound, Magical Entanglements vol 2
Flamebound, Magical Entanglements vol 3
Non-Fiction
Generating Story Ideas: Tips and Techniques For Hatching Ideas From Scratch
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Jim McCarthy, who plucked me out of the slush and helped make my dreams come true.
This book would not exist with the continual support of Chandler Baker, Diana Urban, and Naticia Hutichins, the Binders full of Romance Writers, and the Hot and Haunted anthology authors. You all save me on a daily basis. Thanks especially to Naticia for your copy editing help. Lunch on me!
Thanks to Story Sisters, Binders, KBoards, Absolute Write, Twitter, and all the other writerly online hangouts where I found great friends and great advice.
And of course I can’t forget my loving family, for your continual support. But most importantly I’d like to thank my husband Josh and my daughter Quinn for being my rocks.
Lastly, thank YOU for taking the time to read this book. I hope you enjoyed it!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Shane studied Creative Writing at Syracuse University and now works as a digital Project Manager in New York City. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, young daughter, and a basement full of books.
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www.rachelshane.com