Mystic Hallows Harem Box Set Episodes 1-4: Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance

by Nikki Landis

  “Not if I used magic,” I retorted.

  “But you aren’t,” he whispered huskily, pressing his body into mine until there wasn’t a gap anymore. “Deny the chemistry between us all you want, Cassie dear. I have all of eternity. There’s no rush.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Dmitri’s fangs draped over his bottom lip as he inhaled, opening his mouth as those compelling irises glowed brighter. The crimson color was as bottomless as a deep glass of rich, red wine that beckoned with the promise of untold delights and pure, exotic pleasure. “Just a little taste.” His lips brushed the column of my throat as I felt the rough texture of his tongue sweep over my skin, followed by a little pinprick of pain.

  “Hey!” I yelled, blasting him backward with force.

  Dmitri laughed, flashing forward quickly as his body collided with mine. We slammed into the gray façade of a large headstone. The large crack could be heard throughout the vicinity before a corner chipped away and crumbled in the chilly autumn breeze.

  “That’s destructive and a complete disregard for human life.”

  “They aren’t living anymore, little Raven. I hardly think the ghosts that walk this graveyard care about the stones that mark their eternal passage.”

  “Try telling them that sometime during Samhain. You might get lucky enough to have a spirit or two knock you on your arrogant ass.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You amuse me. When can we fuck?”

  Whacking him upside the cheek, I was satisfied to hear his grunt of annoyance in response. “That’s it. I’m done.” Dmitri had successfully distracted me for long enough. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help, Dmitri.”

  His hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm as I attempted to leave, all humor instantly vanishing as I scowled. “You are correct. Enough pleasantries. I need you and you need me, my precious.”

  Ah, here it was. Dmitri was finally going to admit the truth and explain. Too bad. I was done with his never ending and exhausting games. I needed to return to Gypsy and my aunt.

  “Release me.”

  Dmitri hissed, his glamour disappearing altogether as he appeared in his true frightening form. “Don’t walk away, pet.” His leathery black lips peeled backward in a cruel grin. “I could make this difficult.”

  “Which wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. I know how you operate, Dmitri Rockcastle. Leave me alone.” I yanked my arm away as his stiff wings folded outward and the inky black tips rose, lifting him off the ground as they flapped lightly. The points ended in sharp claws that scraped against one another like nails scratching along a blackboard. The wind stirred around us as the wild gleam in the vampire’s eyes twinkled a cheery apple red.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon, my darling witch.”

  The words were a promise, spoken with a mixture of possession, frustration, and unmitigated desire. Dmitri would return soon, and he wouldn’t be leaving so easily in the future.

  Chapter 2

  “Smoke and air, fire and earth, cleanse and bless this home and hearth. Drive away all harm and fear, only good may enter here.”

  I pushed the stray hair that had fallen into my eyes out of the way with my forearm and continued to mix the cookie dough by hand, incorporating flour and dry ingredients to finish the Moon Spell recipe. Containers were open all around the kitchen as the scent of cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and pumpkin saturated the lower levels of Howe Manor.

  Outside, a light rain pelted the back patio and tall oak and maple trees that spread across the exterior of the property. Windchimes filtered the breeze and echoed in the approaching night air, whispering soft words of enchantment to any soul who wandered within the protected grounds. Candles were lit all around the house and in every window, blocking the advance of unwanted spirits and attracting the presence of the ancestors with our specific scent. The homemade wax was dipped in specific and blessed ingredients that included sage, wormwood, anise seeds, and dried apple.

  I returned home hours ago to find my aunt in bed asleep. Gyps was by her side, stroking her hand with affection. I left them alone upstairs and proceeded to ignore my Cosan as I opened up the family recipe book and started baking. I’d already made pumpkin tarts and pecan pie – a favorite of my aunt. Soul Cakes lay on racks that were cooling in the fresh air that swept through the kitchen and the screen doors wide open that admitted entrance. A jar of raisins sat open next to the cookies, sprinkled across the puffy tops. I’d left an entire rack without them just for Gypsy. She preferred naked Soul Cakes, a joke between the two of us.

  Moon Spell cookies were altogether different. Shaped into crescent moons, they were rolled in and then dusted with powdered sugar right out of the oven. I laboriously and tediously molded the entire dough as my lower back ached and I welcomed the pain as a distraction. I was in denial about a great many things and the less I contemplated at the moment, the better. Cloves, rosemary, anise, and cinnamon were added to the Moon Spell recipe as an added boost of protection.

  “Hear my call through day and night, protect my loved ones with all your might.”

  Waving my hand over the baked goods, I uttered the old and timeless chant in a low voice, watching as a light violet puff of air flowed over all the baked goods and began to dissipate, filtering through every wall and room inside the house until it creeped into the corners and filled every nook.

  “The veil is thin. The time grows near. The ancestor’s power comes through clear.”

  A gust of wind blew through the kitchen as I spun in a circle, arms rising into the air in silent tribute. I wasn’t alone this night. The presence of the multitude that had come before me grew stronger as the dark night approached. My skin prickled with a surge of power and I couldn’t help but smile at the confirmation that my ancestors would never abandon our family in a time of need. Tears briefly filled my eyes and I blinked them back, grateful for their love and devotion. The Third Sight may be temporarily blind but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another way to discern the right path for the Howe witches. The Eye would find a way to be heard, even if it was blinded.

  I felt my cousin’s presence long before I heard her voice.

  “Please tell me where you went,” Gypsy pleaded, her voice wavering lightly with concern. “I don’t like it when you disappear, Cass.”

  Sighing softly, I dropped my hands and turned, expecting to find only my cousin but was surprised to see Gabe, Ryder, Kayde, and Damian watching me silently. They hadn’t spoken a word since the bake-off began, probably because they could sense my distress and need for solitude. My introspection was part of my healing process. Feeling slightly invigorated, I walked forward to Gypsy and embraced my cousin, stroking her blonde hair lightly as her arms wrapped around my waist.

  “I’m right where I’m needed,” I whispered, placing a kiss on top of her head. “Always.” Patting her cheek affectionately, I resumed baking, finishing off the Moon Spells and mixing salt dough. Once it was ready, I began to shape skulls, using a wooden spoon handle to create the eye sockets and then a butter knife for scoring the nose and teeth. It would take days for them to dry completely but then Gypsy and I would paint and decorate them as we had every Samhain since her birth. A tradition in the Howe family, I would someday pass this down to my own children and grandchildren, ancestors willing.

  Gypsy picked up the salt dough and silently began shaping her own skull and I bumped her hip, smiling as she looked into my eyes. Her lower lip trembled, and I stuck out my tongue which caused her to chuckle lightly. Time trickled on and soon we had over thirty skulls finished. After I washed my hands, I lifted my gaze to the moon and her pale translucent glow. The sky was black as tar.

  Perfect.

  I didn’t say a word as I walked outside and began preparations. Incense was ignited, candles lit, and the chalk drawn in the traditional symbols of the Howe lineage and Samhain traditions. I stood in the middle of the circle, Gypsy on my left as we both lowered to our kne
es. Aunt Gwen was absent, and my heart ached with the loss of her presence, my chest tight with unspoken emotion. My arms were spread wide, my palms tipped upward to welcome the blessing of my ancestors.

  “I call to thee, my beloved ancestors,” I began, my voice steady and calm, clear and strong as it commanded the night air. I was the eldest Howe without my aunt in attendance and my summons would be quickly answered. “As the veil thins between the realms, let your presence come forward and embrace your humble servants. May the blessing of our ancestors fall upon us, our ears open to listen, our eyes wide enough to see, our hearts free enough to receive.”

  White smoke rose up from the flames of the candles and swirled into the air, billowing in the moon’s silent beams of bluish-white light that combined all around us with the carmine blaze. The smoke began to change colors, growing pale lemon yellow before burning a dark blue and then puffing in great circles as it changed into an ethereal violet.

  My mother.

  The air around us stilled completely. All noises of the night ceased. No crickets, no rustling leaves. The wind ceased all movement. A deafening silence hung in the air with a heavily pregnant pause. The candles’ flames rose up higher and never flickered, abruptly turning a vivid violet, proof the ancestors answered my call and my mother was here, leading the others.

  “Cassandra.”

  Before my eyes, the spirits of my ancestors materialized, each of the last ten generations of witches standing in a long row, including my mother. They appeared as apparitions that weren’t fully flesh and yet they were as real as if they were still alive. No change since death other than the intensity of their auras. Each had a slightly different color that tinged the halo that surrounded their souls. My mother’s aura had always been a light violet. It was confirmed by my aunt and Cosan that I also possessed a violet aura.

  The pulse of power that left her presence and engulfed my entire body caused ripples in the air that shimmered like a mirage. My sharp intake of breath drew the attention of Gypsy and my Cosan as I lifted to my feet. A light hum of energy danced along my skin and tingled with an itch I couldn't scratch until it faded completely. Her power and magic wrapped around my own and boosted it until I nearly shook with the intensity of my mother’s blessing. My soul absorbed her gift and I stood straight and tall, bowing my head slightly in gratitude.

  “My daughter,” she began, “I know why you seek an audience this eighth night of Samhain. Know that my answers are limited and intentionally precise to the exact questions you will speak.”

  “I understand.”

  She smiled, pleased with my response. You didn’t question the ancestors. Their power was vast, but the veil only allowed so much energy to cross its border before it shut completely. Although Howe witches were tasked with protecting this barrier, we were also bound to its limitations. Our duty came at a price. The Salem witches acknowledged this agreement and upheld it, even when we could have broken that centuries old promise.

  “The veil is breeched, and evil is crossing over into Mystic Hallows. I’ve been tainted. Roman English is now immortal. The threat to our family grows every minute he remains undefeated.”

  I didn’t get to say more before she nodded, speaking with authority. “Your soul is tainted because it is the will of the ancestors. You must understand evil before you can defeat it, my daughter.”

  Sighing, I lowered my head and fought the urge to argue. I knew this was true, but it didn’t help the situation. “My aunt?”

  “Gwen is being healed as we speak. The ancestors restore our beloved sister and boost her power for the upcoming battles.”

  Battles? As in more than one?

  “Yes,” my mother replied, knowing my thoughts without effort.

  Gypsy bent at the waist, her appreciation an extra hint of cool mint in the air.

  “Go Gypsy, join your mother.”

  “Thank you,” she croaked.

  My cousin jumped to her feet and ran into the house, her feet pounding the stairs as she obeyed. My soul felt her joy and relief the moment she reunited with Aunt Gwen.

  “You must follow the correct path.”

  I lifted my chin and met my mother’s hard stare. “I understand.”

  “This won’t be easy, my Cassandra but I have faith in you. Remember that you aren’t alone.”

  “Yes, Mother.” A lump formed in my throat and I fought back tears. “I won’t fail you.”

  “It is not failure that you must fear, my beloved. It is corruption.”

  She spoke my deepest fear allowed. Plucking it from the recesses of my heart, she brought it forth and exposed the truth to those who were meant to hear. Nothing was done without purpose. My Cosan’s presence drew close and engulfed the circle in which I stood, providing warmth, strength, and additional power.

  “Don’t forget your purpose.”

  “I won’t,” I promised as a single tear slipped down my cheek.

  “Be strong. You would never be tasked with this burden if you were unable to carry it.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I love you.”

  “And I love you, so deeply, so completely, that I haunt the fade and the Ether for your protection.”

  Gasping, I had no idea she would take such risks. “Mother, no.”

  “Cassandra,” she called, her aura flickering as the rest of the ancestors disappeared. “Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be,” I echoed as she faded completely and the candles went out, plunging the backyard into near darkness. My knees buckled and I landed in a sobbing heap, crying with the heavy burden and despair that crept into my heart with the knowledge that my road ahead was paved with bloodshed and sacrifice, uncertainty and danger.

  Dmitri Rockcastle was right.

  I would need his help.

  The reason was selfish. He was the only one I was willing to lose.

  Chapter 3

  ‘You’re not fooling anyone, pet. Least of all, me.’

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” I replied aloud with a good deal of snark, yanking the vampire into my bedroom as I shut the door. We returned inside Howe Manor only minutes earlier and I had yet to confront him. “Dmitri mentioned something I’d like to discuss.”

  Damian hissed, his fangs poking through his gums and glistening in the meager light. “Don’t believe my brother so easily. He’s an opportunistic liar.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against the painted wall and narrowed my eyes. “Sounds familiar.”

  “Maybe you could fill me in,” he snapped, his teeth almost nicking his bottom lip, backing us further into the room. Any mention of his brother instantly provoked his ire.

  I closed my eyes, memories of a previous conversation surfacing, the exact day that Damian and I sat on identical swings side by side on the old playground I used to visit as a child and had what I thought was an honest communication. Maybe not.

  “Lycan and witches pass their ability down genetically. Ghouls and many other supernatural creatures do also. With Lycan and ghouls, either beast can also be made, but vampires . . .” Damian paused and stopped the swing, his expression sad. “We’re always created.”

  “Never born?” I asked to clarify.

  He shook his head with a wistful smile. “No, despite the sparkly vampire stories that say otherwise.” A dark shadow passed across his features before he glanced into my eyes. “Doesn’t matter if you want this life or not, it’s chosen for you.”

  Was he making some sort of point? “Are you saying you don’t want to be immortal?”

  He smirked. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I have become in many ways but . . . I’m also restricted in ways I never expected.”

  Restricted? He was a vampire. What could he possibly not be able to do? “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Damian.”

  “I’m unable to pursue certain things I desire.”

  This was a strange conversation. I never expected Damian to open up and become so seriou
s. He wasn’t making a lot of sense.

  “Everything has a price.”

  Everything has a price. I never asked him to elaborate on that statement. At the time, I assumed he meant the burden of immortality and the cost of losing your own personal humanity. Now, I wasn’t sure that was what he meant at all.

  Always in my head, Damian knew the conflicting thoughts and the memory I’d purposely conjured before I spoke aloud. “Ask your question.”

  “Why did you lie?”

  “About?”

  Oh, he wanted to get technical. Was that it? “You said vampires were created, never born.”

  “That’s not a question, pet.”

  “It’s not true, is it?”

  “Depends on the context.”

  “Damian,” I blurted, feeling my anger rise to the surface. “Stop playing with me. It’s not a game.”

  “No, your safety is never a game, my beloved. The sooner you realize this, the more such conversations will make sense.”

  “Are you hiding something?”

  Damian shrugged, his silence in my head proof enough.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “These are dangerous times. Your Cosan understands the cost and have weighed the consequences. We’ve agreed on the only acceptable outcome.”

  Hands planted firmly on my hips, I nearly snarled my next words as my anger increased. “You speak for all four of you now?”

  “In a way, yes. None of us are willing to risk losing you, little Raven. We are tasked with your protection and are willing to be destroyed in order to ensure you survive the trials ahead.”

  This was ridiculous. Didn’t I have a say in these decisions? “Where are the others?”

  “Close,” he replied calmly. “Open the door. They’ve been waiting.”

  Stomping until I reached the knob, I turned it with force and nearly yanked the damn thing loose. “Get in here.”

  Ryder, Gabe, and Kayde walked into the room as Ryder shut the door with a soft click, squeezing my hand as I released the knob.