Vampire Mage: A Clutch Mistress Book

by Janelle Peel

  He caught the movement of my eyes when I glanced at it. His lips tipped back into a smirk. “I wouldn’t,” he rumbled in a deep bass.

  I crossed my arms as a barrier while I locked gazes with him, trying to ignore the fluttering of my stomach when he laughed again at my false bravado.

  “Answer me!” I shouted. I was scared shitless.

  Inside my mind, a silent demand screamed to let go.

  So, I did. Blue light lit my hands. Raw energy crackled and danced across my knuckles while I opened my arms and spread each finger. The light played across the stranger's’ face as he stared, transfixed by whatever the hell I was doing.

  This close, I could smell him, like the ocean surf and salt. He smelled like my home back in Seattle. I inhaled again, relaxing into the memory and licked my lips. His gaze tracked the movement.

  He inhaled, and his eyes widened again in shock and recognition.

  “You,” he said.

  I squinted my eyes at him in confusion. I didn’t know this mountain of a man that smelled like home. The leather clung to him like a second skin. This close, it was hard not to stare and assess him like he seemed to be doing with me.

  “Do I know you?” I asked, tossing my hair over my shoulder with a haughty roll of my head.

  He inhaled again and took a step back, overcoming his previous emotional slip with the movement. “I’m Blaze, Master of the SoCal Clutch,” he raised a perfect brow, “and you are?”

  I shook out my hands, hoping to extinguish my blue flames. They winked out, and I stepped back to cover my surprise. Flaring my nostrils, I replied, “Sora.”

  “Sora,” he whispered.

  The longing in his voice made my heart beat faster.

  Clearing his throat, he uttered in a much more normal tone, “Can I come in?”

  Appalled at my body’s reaction, I glared at him. “It’s a little late for pleasantries, now isn’t it? You already manipulated my door and let yourself in, now you’re asking permission to come into my home?”

  “Yes,” he rumbled back, then followed with a lower, “please.”

  I debated mentally for a moment, completely overloaded by everything that had just happened. I have magic! Magic… that I didn’t know how to use…. Oh well, fake it ‘til you make it.

  “Fine,” I said, tipping my head to my couch.

  He silently strode across the room and settled himself on the sofa like he was afraid to break it. The hide a bed groaned a loud complaint, but held. His bulk took up so much of the couch that I decided to remain standing.

  “What do you want?” I asked, crossing my arms again.

  He let out a long sigh. “I came to investigate a scent that I noticed early last night. I sent two of my best Trackers to hunt down whatever it was, only to have them fail to report back. When I tracked them down, they had no clue of the order I had issued. Like their memory was wiped.” He leaned forward and the couch whined its disdain at the abuse, “Any idea why that is?”

  My thoughts scrambled and my heart rate increased.

  His pupils dilated in response, tracing the curve of my jaw before coming to rest on my fluttering pulse.

  My quick intake of breath caused him to look away.

  He mumbled an apology, looking chagrined at his behavior.

  Vampire, right, I thought. Gulping down several calming breaths, I debated on the best answer that wouldn’t betray my weird ability. An ability that didn’t seem to work on him.

  I decided on ignorance and snarked my reply, “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes turned cold and he swung his gaze back to mine. “You really want to play that game?” His muscles flexed beneath his jacket, straining the leather. The threat was clear in every line of his hard body.

  My eyes widened and fear shot through me.

  He inhaled again and seemed to relax, savoring the breath he took.

  I diverted, “Why do you breathe?”

  His brow scrunched, thrown by the abrupt change in topic. “To gather scents, speak, and blend in.”

  Okay… I wondered what he smelled. I had noticed my own heightened sense of smell, ever since I cracked my head after the bar… Wait! The bar! The blonde man with the strong jaw. I was sure it was him! “Have I seen you before?”

  He rolled his shoulders, thinking over my question. He was a secretive one. With a shrug he replied, “I believe we were at the same establishment the other night.”

  “Establishment!? Yeah, establishment. Let’s go with that.” I said sarcastically, throwing my arms up in exasperation.

  “You were also there, alone, as I recall. “Painting it Black”, right?” He replied, his sarcasm matching mine.

  “It’s a classic,” I spit back with venom.

  “You’re stalling. Tell me what I want to know,” he said, standing to tower over me.

  All Mother, he must have been 6’3” or more. Never had I felt so crowded by a man that smelled so damned good in all my life.

  Noting my inhale, he stepped back once more, looking slightly uncomfortable. Turning toward the window, he addressed my reflection, “Please, just tell me what I want to know.”

  The please undid me. “Two guys, Von and Jake, broke into my home. I don’t know what they wanted. I had my bat. They left, I don’t know what happened to them after that, end of story.” I mentally crossed my fingers for him to believe my edited version of events.

  His sigh fogged the glass on my window, distorting my reflection.

  I held my breath, waiting for his reply.

  “Fine,” he rumbled. His shitkickers made hollow noises on my thin grey carpet as he walked to the door, displaying his displeasure with my response. Hand on the handle, he glanced back condescendingly, “Know this Mage, there are others that reside in SoCal that will have caught your unique scent and will come to investigate. Others not so patient as I.” He tossed a card onto my coffee table in a movement to quick to track. “Call if you require assistance. Good night, Sora.”

  I blinked and he was gone, my door closed and locked as if he’d never been there at all.

  Blaze

  Never had he been so frustrated by a female. He’d also never been so turned on by smell alone either. Her mint shampoo played nicely to the delicate tones of lavender and ocean interlaced in her scent. That alone was odd; ocean scents usually identified Vampires. Perhaps it was a residual scent from his bite two nights before, or the Trackers he had sent. She certainly wasn’t a Vampire, although she did have a hint of the sea in her blood.

  He mentally replayed the toss of her hair, like liquid silver. His hand still trembled with the urge to run his fingers through it.

  “Sora,” he whispered into the wind.

  The Moon had fully risen by the time he settled in to watch her home from a broken streetlight.

  Sora

  What the hell was that? Why couldn’t I control him like the other two? Maybe it was his leadership to their Clutch. He radiated power like most women overused perfume. I picked up the card he had left and read it while peeking out of the window overlooking the street.

  Deeply engraved in black on a thick white business card it read-

  BLAZE

  619.440.1667

  I rolled my thumb over the engraving. Pfft, not even a last name? Weird. I checked the view from the main window one last time before moving to my poor couch. I racked my brain for any memory from my past on warding. Nothing came to mind. That was the trick with magic, you couldn’t learn to use it unless you had it. All Mother, why did this have to happen now? What was happening to me? I recalled the blue flames, surmising it had to have been instinctive due to my heightened emotions. Things had been different ever since that night at the bar.

  Stretching out my arms behind my head, I closed my eyes, searching for the pull I had felt earlier. There, near my center, was a blue flame. Gently, oh so gently, I coaxed it out and opened my eyes. It worked! My hands were wreathed in blue flame!

  I touched my ha
ir, nothing. I touched the table, again, nothing. I walked to the door and concentrated on never letting anyone in without permission again. Gliding my hands over the frame and base, I rested my palms on the door handle itself. Over and over I repeated that no one shall enter without my permission. On the third repeat, I felt a shift in my chest, saw the frame and handle alight with first blue, then white light. It flared brightly before extinguishing without a mark.

  Magic! I did a mini dance to mark the occasion. Feeling slightly dizzy, I stumbled over to the couch, pulled a blanket over myself and fell asleep.

  Chapter 2

  Sora

  Ding… ding… Ding… ding…

  I lifted my sleep crusted lids. DING…

  What? Oh crap, my alarm! Snatching my phone from the table, I quickly silenced the shrill tone.

  Ugh, I groaned into my pillow remembering my shift at the diner.

  Slowly, I got up and folded my blanket. Padding to the bathroom, the events of the previous night jolted me back into reality. Oh shit!

  Hands covering my face, I peeked through my fingers at my reflection and willed it all to be a dream. My puffy blue green eyes and crazy bedhead did nothing to reassure me. Flipping on the shower I pushed my problems to the back of my mind. I could figure it out later, I needed this job and my home.

  I clocked in at 10:59, not paying attention to anyone and nodded my good mornings to the other wait staff. Tying on my backup apron, I headed out to my section. I only had 6 booths, so it should be a pretty easy day.

  Arriving at my first table, I finally looked up. Two large men stared at me, each flaring their nostrils as they inhaled in unison.

  I glanced around, everything was quiet. Not a fork scraped or a menu crinkled. Everyone was staring, again. Heat rushed to my face and my shoulders rounded, I stared hard at my order tablet, pen poised.

  Clearing my throat, I mumbled, “What can I get you?”

  The tanned man on the left shifted on the brown seat of the vinyl booth. “Black coffee.”

  The other man closed his menu and softly placed it on the table. “Same, with the Steak Skillet. Rare, with white toast.”

  Nodding, I scribbled the order down, plucked their menus from the table, and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

  The elderly cook looked up with a smile as I handed him the ticket. “Rough start?” He asked, tipping his head to the pass-through window toward my booth. “Those boys aren’t giving you trouble, are they?”

  Thankful for the normalcy, I met his eyes with the corner of my mouth turned up, “No, just the usual.”

  While I watched, his eyes glazed over and his gentle smile turned into one of a lovesick puppy. He shook his head once, “I’ll get this together, you better get back out there.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, leaving the kitchen. I could do this. So, people were staring. Who cared. I had to get over these strange encounters. Time to kick ass like I always did and get paid.

  Pep talk done, I poured two cups of Columbian Black from the server station. People continued to stare as I retraced my footsteps to the booth.

  I had just set the coffees down when Skillet Guy addressed me.

  “You new here?” He asked with his face scrunched in thought.

  “Nope,” I replied. “I’ve been here for about 4 months. This your first trip in?”

  “No, Mel and I have been coming here for years. We’ve just never noticed your sc…” he corrected himself quickly, “smiling face before.”

  It sounded like he was going to say scent. Thoughts whirling, I tilted my head toward ‘Mel’ and smiled, “You decide on any food yet?”

  Blowing over his raised cup, he lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Coffee’s good, thanks.”

  “Alright then, I’ll be back with your food in a bit. If you need more coffee just set your cup on the end here,” I patted the table for emphasis.

  Turning away, I moved on to my next table. The stares and stammers were easier to handle after that. I just smiled and waited as patiently as I could.

  A ding sounded, announcing the food was up for ‘Mel’s’ companion. I shuffled ketchup and A1 into one hand, grabbed a rack of jelly with my pinky, and double plated the skillet and toast in my other.

  I could see Skillet Guy talking animatedly with his hands. Mel just stared back at him with a glare on his face. At my approach, the table fell silent.

  “Here you go,” I said with fake cheer, placing everything on the table. “Will there be anything else?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Alright, here’s your check. Flag me down if you change your minds.” I set the receipt on edge of the table and moved on.

  First the scent thing, then the weird silence. Shrugging out my shoulders, I decided there was nothing I could do about it, and finished my shift on autopilot.

  As I was leaving for the day, the Hostess snagged my shoulder, adoration shone in her hazel eyes. “Here, the first guys you served left your tip up front when they paid; there’s a couple others too, but theirs stood out.”

  She handed over a white envelope with my name on it. I slipped my fingers inside and pulled out a fifty and few other bills. Scrawled on the fifty were the words, ‘Call me, Mel 6197741282’. I gasped out loud in shock, “Did they say anything?”

  “Nope, the other guy paid the tab and his friend left this for you.” She wagged her brows at me and giggled, “They were pretty cute.”

  “Um, thanks. I guess they were.” I faked a smile at her, lost in my own thoughts. “See you tomorrow,” I waved over my shoulder on my way out the door.

  Shoving the envelope and cash into the pocket of my apron, I rushed home.

  It was early evening by the time I closed the door to my studio. I put my hand on the handle, trying to feel any energy from my previous ward. A slight hum met my fingertips. I guessed that meant that it was still active.

  Walking to the couch, I untied my apron and emptied the pockets onto the coffee table. Sitting down, I stared. That was a lot of cash. Grabbing the remote, I turned on the local news and started counting. $256 and some change for a four-hour shift. Whoa. Never had I gotten so many tips on any other shift.

  I thumbed out most of the stack and made my way to my mini fridge. Opening the freezer, I pulled out my zip lock of savings. Pinching my pennies was doing me well, but a few more shifts like this and I could afford a vacation. Not like I’d have anywhere to go though, I thought with a sigh.

  Replacing the bag, I glanced down at my ready to eat meals. I still wasn’t hungry and nothing looked even remotely appetizing. Hip checking the door closed, I padded back to the couch.

  Multiple strange men, all affected by my scent, and two phone numbers. Mel couldn’t have been a Vampire, it was daylight. What the heck was going on? I scribbled his phone number on the other side of the card Blaze had left.

  Thoughts spinning with confusion, I decided to take a hot shower.

  Stepping out of the tiny, foggy bathroom, I heard a knock on my door. “Who is it?” I half shouted from the doorway.

  Another knock came.

  “Who is it?” I repeated, pitching my voice louder.

  No response. Hanging my towel on the hook, I slipped into my grey terry cloth robe and walked to the door. “I said, WHO IS IT?”

  My door handle shook and a muffled curse sounded from my landing. Simultaneously, I felt a tiny pinch in my chest.

  Grabbing my bat and trusting my ward, I flicked the lock and pushed opened the door.

  I was shocked to see Mel from the diner standing on my porch, holding his hand to his large chest. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “At my house?” I glanced to the right, expecting Skillet Guy by his side.

  His chocolate eyes widened at my robe, but dismissed the bat entirely. I shifted its position, but he didn’t even give it a glance.

  Clearing his throat, he shook out his hand, “I’ve come to issue a request, on behalf of the SoCal Pack.”

  Wait, what
? I stared at him, dumbfounded.

  He blinked, “I am the Alpha of the SoCal Pack.”

  My face screwed up as I tried to grasp memories long forgotten. A Pack… like Shifters?

  Taking him in from head to toe, his brown hair curled at the nape of his neck. The collar was open on his grey polo, untucked at his thick waist, and paired with dark denim jeans.

  Were those green flip flops? My mind stuttered to a stop, stuck on flip flops, on a Shifter. A manic giggle slipped out.

  He glanced at his feet, “What?” His face took on a furious blush to the tips of his ears. He muttered, “They’re easy to slip off for a shift.”

  This was just too insane! I laughed, long and loud.

  His face hardened at the ridicule.

  Tears streaming down my face, I giggle snorted through my nose and slapped a hand over my mouth.

  His face softened and he offered a tenuous smile.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long week.” I said, wiping my cheeks.

  “I had hoped you would call,” he stated, looking uncomfortable again.

  I cocked a hip, instantly on guard. “You put your number on a tip, that does not mean I have to call you. Obviously, you sniffed me out, though. So, what do you want?”

  “Can we talk?” He asked, lifting a hand and gesturing into my home.

  “Um, no? I’m in a robe, it’s night time. What sane woman invites a strange man into her home after he’s stalked her?” I asked, incredulously.

  He stared down at his reddened palm, slowly opening and closing his fingers.

  I hesitated, “What happened to your hand?”

  Another blush lit his cheeks and he replied, “Your um, door burned me when I put my hand on the handle.”

  “So not only did you stalk me,” I said, lifting an eyebrow, “you tried to enter my home without permission?” I glared, “You need to leave.”

  “No, please, just listen. Hear me out.” He reached out to the door frame and placed his other palm on it. A sharp pain in my center was all the warning I had before the entire frame glowed blue, then white as flames raced across the open space, making a solid door shaped flame.