Outfoxing Mysta
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
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Title Page
Copyright Warning
Copyright Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Selena Illyria
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“[A] definite page turner and one I would recommend to anyone looking for an interesting and sizzling tale.”
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“Right from the start I was immersed into the wonderful world that this author brings to us and I hope that it is not my last.”
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For Dragons at Samhain
“I loved seeing that connection. The two men knew just what Carissa needed and were not afraid to give it to her.”
—Gabrielle of You Gotta Read This
For Dragon Ugly
“The sparks fly from the moment they meet and grow into an intense love. Not only did I enjoy meeting Brent and Carissa but the rest of the characters endeared themselves to me as well. I really enjoyed my visit to this world and hope to return again soon.”
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Dragon New Year
Dragon Ugly
Dragons at Midnight
“Dragons at Samhain” Halloween Heat II
Bachelor Auction
Mate Not Wanted
Goal: A Mate
At Drogan’s Command
Carnevale and Subterfuge
Renny’s Mate
Seven Sins Inn: Pietro & Callisto
Fallen Lovers: Roman
Flushed and Fevered
Bewitching the Vampire
Making Demons Purr
Outfoxing Mysta
In Print
“Dragons at Samhain” Halloween Heat II
Renny’s Mate (Beach Bums Anthology)
Seven Sins Inn: Pietro & Callisto (Demon Heat Anthology)
The Dragon New Year Collection
Outfoxing Mysta
Flushed and Fevered Book Three
Selena Illyria
Etopia Press
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
http://www.etopiapress.com
Outfoxing Mysta
Copyright © 2015 by Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-944138-07-3
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: September 2015
DEDICATION
For Jodi. Malcolm is all yours. ;-)
CHAPTER ONE
Samhain in full effect. Mysta dodged a group of people tossing tissue paper up and onto trees. An arc of white fluttered through the sky, catching on a branch. The trail spilled down to the ground, twisting and turning in a stray breeze. Loose magic and cool air raised goose bumps on her skin. Her heartbeat stuttered. Her snake cringed and hissed at every brief interaction with the public. Too many people around, too much noise, too much magic.
She focused on the brick and mortar library in the distance. The tall, gold lettering was her beacon of calm. People staggered around on the sidewalks and in the streets, blocking traffic, hooting and hollering and holding up their drinks, toasting the night. A few she knew called out to her. She gave a halfhearted wave and sped up to get away from them. The temptation to turn and run back to the office overwhelmed her.
She shook her head and pressed on. Duty came before fear. Bridget needed her to research hobgoblins, and this was the only time she had over the next week or so. She couldn’t find any peace at home, not with Vivi, her friend and co-worker Sera’s half-sister, hiding at her place. Any minute Vivi’s mother Francie could burst in. Mysta wanted to stave off any black leopard drama—especially in her home—for as long as possible. And especially with rumors of issues within the Leap—what black leopard shifters called themselves when together—being whispered about. So the library it was.
She rushed up the stone steps, dodging a few children toting pumpkin carries and dressed in stereotypical witch costumes, warts, pointy hats and all, pulled open one of the double doors and entered only to stop short.
Sitting at the front desk, feet up on the countertop and reading a book was Viktor.
Seeing his tousled blond hair, tight T-shirt, and silver-rimmed glasses made her breath halt in her chest. The moment broke apart. Old fear, anger, and confusion washed through her. Why was he here?
She gritted her teeth and shook her head. She couldn’t get distracted by past emotions. Mysta inhaled the perfume of ink, vellum, wood, incense, and a hint of spice from the magic that floated around the library, using it to ground her. She couldn’t focus on Viktor.
As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his chin. A smile curved his lips. He lifted his hand.
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to get sucked into a conversation. She rushed past him and aimed for the section dealing with hobgoblins.
She grabbed volumes specific to banishing or vanquishing them, then settled down at a table in the back, far away from the front desk and Viktor. She spread out her study materials, notebooks, and pencils and got to work.
Or at least she tried to. It was no use. Viktor’s name whispered through her mind. The ghost of his cologne swirled around her reminding of her what she’d left behind. Pain splintered along her fingers as the shift tried to find a foothold. Tears blurred her vision. She blinked the moisture away. No, no, no, this couldn’t happen here.
Mysta stood up and walked away from the study area. The farther she got from the table and the closer she came to the front desk, the more her symptoms ticked up. An ache blossomed in the pit of her stomach. Her magic came alive. The wood of the shelves responded, swaying toward her. Her heart raced, and sweat beaded along her brow. She needed to make this stop right now.
She
halted, closed her eyes, and began going through the warrior yoga positions to gain some semblance of control. Magic slithered down her arms and across her shoulders, ruffling her shirt over her breasts, and brushed against her stomach. Calm settled over her as she went through the asanas. She could feel the solidity of the wooden floor rising up through her feet and legs and deep into the core of her being. She let her magic flow out, drawing in what moisture and warmth there was in the air. Fire flared in the pit of her stomach and serenity filled her as she reached out to the elements that gave her strength and aided her magic.
The change pulled back. Her fingers returned to normal. Becoming a snake in a public research library would not endear her to Shevon, the head librarian, even though Shevon wasn’t on duty.
“Viktor,” her snake whispered. The sound sent a wave of calm through her, followed by a burst of need. She ground her teeth against the desire. Stop it, she ordered herself. She took in some deep breaths, and once her calm was reestablished, she slinked through the aisles keeping watch for both Viktor and any books she might need for further study. Her boots echoed in the muted atmosphere.
Chuckles drew her attention to a passageway, which led to the defensive magic section. She peeked into the corridor and found a group of three preteens circled around a snail. Glyphs ringed the boundary, along with tea candles. One of the boys waved a starter wand—a short wand that young witches and warlocks used to practice with—at the gastropod, causing it to float in the air, rotate, and jump all while in the confines of the circle. Droplets of goo fell to the floor.
Mysta’s stomach threatened to rebel. She tamped the urge to vomit down.
“Come on, make it jump higher,” one of the immature warlocks urged. His voice cracked on the last word. Acne scars marked his oily face. A frizzy bowl cut framed his pointed features making his large nose more noticeable.
“Dude, make it secrete more goo. If this is gonna be defensive it needs to be able to give off more crap,” another one whined.
She swallowed down more of her nausea. The young warlocks’ words sank in. Defensive? A snail? Oh, no, it wouldn’t work if they didn’t transfigure the slug they were trying to use. They needed to start with the softer parts. Mysta wanted to give them some pointers. She stepped forward, ready to instruct them on how to avoid disaster, when a finger tapped her shoulder.
Viktor.
He smirked at her, his jade-green eyes glimmering. Memories of all the times in the past when she’d caught him staring at her while she’d been studying flooded her brain.
What are they doing? he mouthed. His stare raked her from head to toe, lingering on her lips.
For a moment she was struck by how pink his mouth looked. The tip of his tongue slipped out, wetting the plump flesh, causing it to glisten. Drawing her to kiss him. Her mouth warmed at the notion of tasting his lips once more. Stop that, she ordered herself. She latched on to his question.
“Defensive magic,” she whispered.
“With a slug?” Revulsion filled every line of his face. He pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up on his nose.
Her brain went into geek mode, and she acted on autopilot, explaining the situation in a low voice. “It can be done with the right spell, and if they’re up on their transfiguring information. But if they screw up we’ll be wiping snail guts off of us and everywhere, and then Shevon will flail them alive.” She peeked back at the trio. The slug continued to jump in the air and, horror of horrors, it was growing. It even gave off a weird sulfuric smell. She scrunched up her nose. Another flood of nausea hit her, accompanied by a wave of light-headedness. She swayed on her feet, reaching out to grab hold of a shelf to steady herself.
“This needs to stop.” Viktor brushed by her and raised his voice, addressing the boys. “Okay, guys, enough.”
The kids stilled, eyes wide. Two of the boys scooted away from their grotesque experiment to opposite sides of the area. The third remained where he was, eyes narrowed at Viktor. “We have every right. Shevon is my aunt. I could get you fired.” His high, snotty voice grated on Mysta’s nerves.
Viktor pulled out a few paper towels from his back pocket. “I doubt Shevon will do any such thing. Here, use this to wipe up the goo with this and get out. I won’t risk the library going up in flames or something worse happening just so you can get better at defensive magic. Now leave, and I won’t tell your aunt you almost got snail guts on her precious tomes.” He lifted a hand. A spark of energy appeared and grew in size, forming into a ball of light. He nodded toward the door.
The two boys who had backed away crashed into each other hastening for the exit. “Come on!” one shouted. “He’s gonna try and fry us.”
The third boy bent down, grabbed the snail, and followed his friends. In his rush to leave, he smudged the salt forming the circle, creating an opening. The buildup of magic oozed out. The sulfuric smell increased. A ripple of power lashed out at Mysta. She hissed as her snake rose to flick it off.
Great. She closed her eyes and drew on her power to tamp down the loose magic before it caused any trouble. She imagined her power as a solid plane of thick wood and pressed it into the drifting tendrils of the spell, pushing the magic down into the floor, where the golden oak boards absorbed the power. The magic weakened until she could feel only a faint trace of energy.
“Ugh. Shevon’s going to kill that kid. I’ll clean up here. You get back to studying.” Viktor crouched down. His Henley rose up to reveal a sliver of deep golden skin and a hint of a tattoo that disappeared under the cream-colored fabric.
The sight stopped her short. Questions swirled around her brain. When had he… How long had…?
Her thoughts scattered. Not her business.
“Okay. Thanks.” She turned on her heel and rushed to an area of seclusion: her table. Once among the familiarity and safety of her possessions, her calm returned to her.
She buried herself in the written word, trying to ignore images of peeling off Viktor’s shirt to get a better look at the ink work and maybe to leave love bites all over his back. It didn’t work. She read the same paragraph several times but didn’t understand a word. Transferring her attention to another book only made the words blur together. Frustrated, she got up and headed for the Mischievous Creatures section.
Lights flashed, and overhead she heard the explosions from the fireworks celebrating Samhain. Time was ticking by. She had to find more materials on hobgoblins for the case Bridget was working. So far there wasn’t a lot mentioned in the texts.
She needed to focus. Bridget was depending on her to come back with this information. She bent over the page and finally managed to lose herself in the paragraphs. Everything else faded away. Only the words mattered to her right now.
“Do you need anything? Coffee, cocoa, water?” Viktor’s rich voice drifted to her, jolting her out of her musings.
The low tenor sent shivers through her. Her heart ticked up, and her thoughts scattered. Remnants of her arousal flared to life, pushing their way to the forefront and forestalling any annoyance at being interrupted. Her skin tingled, and her body warmed. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her rib cage. Liquid heat filled her sex.
She looked around and spotted him in a corridor nearest to her, leaning against a shelf as casual as you please, legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded over his chest. His shirt stretched over the hard wall of his pecs and muscular biceps.
“You know I don’t drink or eat anything while I’m researching or studying.” She tried to sound disgruntled. The words came out softer, breathier than she wanted. She checked her watch. She’d been reading for an hour.
He didn’t move toward her. “Did you have dinner? I have some leftovers from The Java Demon Café. Double bacon cheeseburger with mushrooms, your favorite. No fries though. I can pop it into the mini convection oven in the employee lounge.”
Her traitorous stomach grumbled. “Viktor.”
“I remember a time when you called me Vik and you were happy to
see me. I also remember all those moments when you cried out my name when you came.” His neutral, careful tone belied the dark fire and need in his eyes.
An ache spread through her heart. Old, scabbed wounds ripped open and created runnels of blood in her soul. “Please, don’t remind me.”
“I’ve been in town for a year, Mys. I don’t need to say something to remind you. My presence should be enough.” He shoved his worn, callused, and scarred hands into the pockets of the tightest jeans she’d ever seen. The denim stretched over a noticeable ridge tenting the fabric.
She swallowed and tried to ignore the fission of heat that danced along her spine. A memory surfaced of Viktor above her, pushing his hips forward, his cock sinking in so slowly she wanted to scream and demand he move faster. She’d struggled against the leather straps that held her to bed and limited her ability to drive down on him and take him deeper.
“Mys? Your body temperature spiked.” He crossed his arms over his chest again.
Rather than stare into his eye, she focused on the patch of skin revealed by the open top button at the hollow of this throat. A hint of green ink peeked out at her. Just how far did it go down?
She swallowed and pushed aside her musings.
“Wondering about this?” He tugged down his collar a bit to show off more of the hidden image.
She gritted her teeth, hating he could read her so well. “Just remembering how it used to be and how much you’ve changed.”
He pushed up his glasses with his middle finger. “Memories can be a dangerous thing.”
The heaviness in his soft voice hit her in the gut. She waited for him to push her and bring up something else from their past.
“Look, you left without a warning. I just want to know why…”
Mysta lifted her chin. “We had an agreement. No questions, no explanations needed, and no strings. We could walk away from each other any time.” Could a person break a deal if it was a year later?