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

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Mystic Hallows Harem Box Set Episodes 1-4: Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance Page 35

by Nikki Landis


  I was devastatingly wrong.

  Dmitri only acted for his own benefit. I knew that now.

  “There’s someone anxious to meet you.” Roman paused, ignorant of my internal musings, and tapped a long nail against his chin. “Actually, I’d say she wants to renew your acquaintance.”

  Morgan stepped into the room with a sweeping grace, flinging her hand back as I was slapped across the face. Jaw clenched, I met her angry and vindictive stare.

  “Cassandra Howe.” She lifted her head with a sneer as our eyes met. “You’re far less intimidating than I recall.”

  “You remember Morgan, right?” Roman smiled, gesturing to the red-haired witch that I’d mistakenly thought I burned alive after her vicious attack. “She’s quite eager to return the favor you bestowed upon her last time.”

  So this was his plan? Recruiting witches from the Tomb of Lost Souls?

  Roman was far too simple. I expected some kind of twist but didn’t dwell on the outcome.

  Shrugging nonchalantly, I spoke in a clear, steady voice. “Incendiare.”

  The stupid witch ignited in front of us, waving her arms as she screamed and her wiry red hair began to smoke, searing Morgan’s scalp as it burned all the way to her roots and fell in a cloak of ash around her shoulders. She wasn’t completely engulfed in flames. What a pity. Hell seemed to find her as ridiculous as I did since she was now bald with scorching burn marks on her pale head. Her clothes had also been destroyed and she stood naked, covered in soot.

  Snickering, I couldn’t help my next words. “Oops. I was just ridding you of that ridiculous dye job and frizzy hair. Trust me. This is a vast improvement.”

  Morgan screeched in fury but Roman held her back with a slight shake of his head. He snorted, unable to hide his humor as his dark eyes twinkled with mirth. “You never disappoint, my fair Cassandra.”

  “I’m a pureblood Salem witch. Have you forgotten what blood runs through my veins? Power you will never wield, Roman English. You’re weak and nothing but a charlatan.”

  Roman’s lip curled up on one side. He didn’t expect my animosity and was clearly furious. Cruel resolve hardened his gaze as I braced myself for his rebuttal. “We shall see, Cassandra Howe. Your moment of truth has come.”

  Chapter 9

  The doors on either side of the opulent hall opened wide as the bodies of dozens of witches – none of them Salem descendants – entered through and then kneeled in long rows that seemed to stack for a great distance beyond what I was able to see. Their auras were surrounded by a murky black substance that seemed to feed off their power.

  The damned.

  There was a distinct feeling to the air that surrounded the gathering of women, almost as if pausing in deliberate anticipation. It was odd that no males other than Roman were in attendance. Did he consider them a threat? Competition?

  A single witch emerged through the crowd as it parted briefly to allow her entry. Her familiar essence tingled my skin with alarm. When her sinister gaze met mine, I was shocked to find a Salem witch in attendance after all.

  Jadis Pudeator.

  Wasn’t this just a little bit frustrating?

  Every witch that had been defeated by a Salem descendant was now recruited by Roman English into his damned army. A brilliant strategy. If he couldn’t defeat the Salem bloodlines alone, recruiting our enemies was essential in overthrowing our council and eliminating the threat. But he was forgetting that none of the damned were gifted like the Salem witches. The thirteen were blessed far beyond his comprehension. Roman English was buying nothing more than time.

  He would be defeated. Of that there was no doubt.

  “Hello, Cassandra,” Jadis greeted, flicking her wrist as I was forced to my knees. “I’m positively thrilled you’ve joined us.”

  I didn’t fight her pathetic show of power but simply met her steady gaze with resolve.

  No one moved. Even the air was still, infused with heat and the faint odor of sulfur.

  A deep growl penetrated the chamber as a heavy thud shook the ground. I turned in time to catch a beast on two legs as he entered through the back and approached the thrones. He was monstrous in height, towering above the throng with horns that protruded on either side of his head. Remembering my Greek mythology, I was certain he was close to a minotaur but with a head more like a goat. He wasn’t a faun. Great hooves clipped along the painted tiles of the ground and scraped with each step.

  Wide-eyed, I was shocked to witness his transformation. The form began to change, the muscles and bones rearranging while the hair covering his body decreased in length and consistency. The closer he came, the more he resembled a human male. His deceptive form was pleasing to the eye. An attractive male specimen, he was dark haired, lean of torso and thickly muscled. Broad shoulders tapered to a well-shaped physique, complete with the perfect v-shaped juncture of his hips. Thick thighs supported his solid, naked frame as he continued to walk forward. Well-endowed, his large and semi-erect cock swung with his movements.

  A smirk rode his handsome features while perfectly proportioned lips lifted in a sultry grin.

  “Welcome, Cassandra of the Salem witch family Howe.”

  Tittering and soft sighs of appreciation could be heard behind me as the witches ogled and appreciated the demon’s masculine form.

  “Beelzebub,” Roman greeted with a sweeping bow. “Our guest has finally arrived.”

  “Quite so,” Beelzebub agreed. “I’m thoroughly pleased.”

  Silent, I wisely kept my sarcastic mouth shut. If I was to learn the cause of this arranged meeting, I would need to be civil. At least, I’d try.

  Roman gestured with his hand and one by one the damned came forward, paying homage to the greatest demon in Hell. Oh, yes. Beelzebub had quite the reputation. After all, he was the first among the fallen. His reign in the Underworld had never been usurped.

  Gaze locked forward, I stiffened as the witches paid their price for their allegiance and power. The Osculum Infame was so disgusting that I didn’t understand how these witches could bow so low. According to legend, The Shameful Kiss or The Kiss of Shame as the Osculum Infame was known, was to kiss the anus of the devil, his other mouth. Not the buttocks as was a common misconception. For such a creature of darkness, only the puckered hole would do. It was this kiss that allowed Beelzebub to seduce women and gain total control and dominion over those who pledged eternal allegiance.

  In other words, he owned and commanded their souls.

  Brilliant strategy for a demon. After all, Beelzebub was abominable, detestable, indecent, lewd, obscene, and unpropitious – all of which were used in the past to describe his reign. Closing my eyes, I tried not to picture the scene directly in front of where I kneeled, resisting the urge to retch.

  My eyes were forced open as the witches began to pleasure him with their mouths, licking, stroking, rubbing, sucking, and nibbling every inch of Beelzebub’s body. His erect member went from mouth to mouth as it was eagerly snatched by the women. Some of them bent over and let the demon shove his rigid length inside their waiting holes, writhing and crying out in ecstasy. The orgy was sordid, but I gave no indication how it affected me, keeping my gaze locked on the eyes of the demon.

  I would never show weakness.

  Growling low, Beelzebub pumped himself in and out of every orifice until finally he came, spurting his ejaculate all over any who were close enough to receive it. The witches gobbled it up, spreading it over their bodies as if treasuring his vile essence.

  Roman stood slightly to my right, his own erection proof of the debauchery and its effect on his body. He turned in my direction, lip curling up in a grin. A promise lay in his eyes that I refused to acknowledge. Beelzebub caught his leering smile and roared his displeasure, lifting a hand as Roman was flung backward hard enough to slam down on the ground. Dazed, he didn’t move for several seconds until Roman finally rose and kneeled at my side, head down in supplication. Anger vibrated his frame, but he stayed su
bmissive.

  Beelzebub sauntered forward, a sneer on his lips. “You answer to me, witch. Do not attempt to make any decisions without my explicit permission. Your desires are nothing. Your goals are nothing. Only my reign matters. Do not forget it.”

  “As you wish, great Beelzebub.”

  Satisfied with Roman’s response, the demon lord reached down and lifted me to my feet, holding onto my hand as he led me toward the pair of onyx thrones. Only once we reached the massive seats did he drop my hand. Taking his place, Beelzebub gestured to the room, beckoning Jadis and Morgan forward.

  “My beloved servants.”

  Both witches bent low to curtsy and then approached, placing kisses on the surface of his hands and feet, offering their allegiance. Although they had also participated in the orgy, they were obviously favored by the demon.

  Watching their interaction, it suddenly became clear that the Third Eye had been blinded on purpose to keep me from learning of Beelzebub’s involvement. He was truly the leader and orchestrator of the attacks against the Howe family and the Salem bloodlines. Blinding the Eye was critical to their success but now the veil between realms was torn, and I knew the cause. Was Beelzebub no longer concerned with exposure?

  Who blinded the Third Eye? Roman? Or were Jadis and Morgan to blame? Was it a combination of their power?

  Sighing softly, I knew there was no intention of letting me leave this chamber alive. Yes, I had learned the truth, but I would never have the chance to inform the ancestors or the council of the dire circumstances we now faced. If only my uncle would return home from his sabbatical. He held great influence with my Aunt Gwen and the council. His appearance in that nightmare that Roman infiltrated with the spiders was proof of his importance.

  There was only one option. I would have to destroy Jadis, Morgan, Roman, the damned, and Beelzebub all on my own.

  I could do this. I didn’t need my Cosan. Or the ancestors. Or anyone else to save me.

  This time, I’d have the strength and courage to persevere on my own.

  Empowered for the first time in a way I never had before, I finally accepted the fact that Cassandra Howe was an accomplished and powerful witch, strengthened by a family with incredible and magical gifts. Embracing my true nature, both strengths and weaknesses, meant that I had crossed the final bridge of independence. I was a Howe. A Salem descendent and pureblood witch.

  Nobody was fucking with me in Hell or out of it without serious payback.

  Tapping into the dark power I could feel beneath my skin, I allowed the dark and sinister vibe to join in with the tendrils of pure magic that rippled inside my body. I locked onto the feeling and coaxed it forward, embracing the darkness as it twisted with the light.

  Lifting my hands, palms tipped upward, I began to chant. The words tumbled from my lips so fast I wasn’t sure what enchantments and curses I conjured. Pure instinct drove my magic to the surface. Violet flames hovered over my body and began to swirl, jumping from my body and moving along the floor until they reached the damned. Every witch in the room – including Jadis, Morgan, and even Roman – began to writhe in pain. Screaming in agony, they were consumed as they crumbled into piles of ash. The weaker witches took only seconds. Others fought harder.

  Smiling at Beelzebub, I kept my focus on his throne. The violet flames licked along his muscular frame but didn’t consume. Instead, he stood and opened his arms wide. The violence of my power was like an aphrodisiac to the demon lord. He moaned with pleasure, swaying as if he could hardly contain the ecstasy. Trembling, his eyes met mine and burned with an eerie flicker, partially soaking the violet flames inside. I didn’t know how, but I could tell he was delighted with my performance. He dropped into his throne, almost weakened by the experience as if he had orgasmed from the connection.

  My ancestors must have seen this scenario playing out. Without the taint on my soul, I’d never be able to completely defeat Roman and the damned. Gazing at the witches, I noticed some passed out while others were completely destroyed. Jadis and Morgan both fought until they dropped at Beelzebub’s feet.

  Roman was the last to resist and I was almost tempted to kill him on the spot. He growled and swore seconds before he also collapsed. I would seek my revenge the next time we met. Today, there was no choice but to focus on survival.

  Annoyed, there was no time to linger on my brief victory.

  My enemies were only temporarily restrained.

  They would live to strike the Salem bloodlines again. Soon. And they wouldn’t be alone.

  With a cry of frustration, I closed my fists as Ryder’s spiritual form appeared. He was quick to throw his arms around my battered spirit, his concern and fear tangible as we faded from the room and Beelzebub blew me a kiss.

  One thing was clear. Mystic Hallows was doomed.

  Chapter 10

  “You’re back!” Gypsy hollered as I returned to my cold and empty shell.

  Around me, bright candlelight and incense burned as the voices of Salem witches converged and rose into the air. I felt my soul settle below my skin and return home without any additional trauma. Precious air inflated my lungs as I took my first few breaths and warmth slowly returned to heat my skin and pump blood to my organs and extremities.

  “I’m alright,” I choked on a whisper, sensing the conflicting emotions in the room. My eyes opened, blinking several times as I focused on the numerous witches, family, friends, and Cosan who combined their strength and power to restore my soul. Back to reality and the land of the living, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  Willow, my Aunt Gwen, and my Uncle Tom were closest. The heavy weight of their protection settled over my skin as they kept murmuring, whispering combined enchantment and healing spells. The council members – Harmony Bishop (Kane and Karter’s mother), Sylvia Wildes (Sebastian’s mother), Mary & Harvey Good, Destiny Martin (Drake’s mother), William & Nancy Cloyce, and Bart Easty – stood closely behind.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I saw them all in one place together. Council meetings were only for the most accomplished and proficient Salem witches. I must have been in greater danger than I realized to merit their involvement.

  “You’re safely back in Howe Manor,” my aunt finally announced aloud. Her voice was thick with emotion and she seemed tired. “The council arrived in time to help.”

  “There was a deep and strong hold on your mortal flesh.” Willow slipped her arm around my aunt’s shoulders. “I’m glad to see you’re unharmed.”

  “We came as quickly as we could,” my uncle assured. Surprised to see him, I smiled as our eyes met. I had missed Uncle Tom. His sabbatical had been a long one. He’d only made an appearance once since Samhain began.

  “Two days,” Gypsy replied with a sniffle as the silence stretched. “We thought we were going to lose you.”

  Two days!??

  How was that possible? I’d only been gone a few hours. At least, it felt that way.

  Eyes filling with tears, I held out my hands, hoping my Cosan would forgive me.

  ‘Pet,’ Damian’s voice was rough in my head, tormented. ‘You were gone.’

  The others didn’t speak but the torture was clear in their eyes. They moved closer, hovering at the edge of my bed as Gypsy leaned in and hugged me for so long, I didn’t think she’d ever move.

  A throat cleared. Looking up as Gypsy backed away, I noticed the stern expressions on the faces of the council. Uh oh.

  “Cassandra Howe,” Bart Easty announced in a clear voice full of authority, “You are hereby placed under restriction.”

  Gasping, I sat upright, ignoring the throbbing ache in my temples.

  “You will remain confined to Howe Manor until you have completely healed. At the mercy of your aunt and uncle, you may roam Mystic Hallows freely but will not leave under any circumstances. A magical confinement has been enacted and will continue until the council is convinced that your reckless actions have not further compromised the Salem witch bloodline
s. Hereby decreed this eleventh day of Samhain, we demand your verbal acknowledgement of our decision.”

  Bart was always a stuffy ass. I could tell he wasn’t backing down.

  “Yes,” I replied through clenched teeth. “I accept the council’s restriction, but I will appeal this decision and provide proof to the council of the reasons I made my choices. Only the safety of the Salem bloodlines matters.”

  Bart pursed his lips but nodded his head, glad I didn’t argue.

  The council departed as I frowned, watching everyone but my family and Cosan leave the room. Lifting my gaze to my aunt and uncle, I decided they needed to know about Hell and all that occurred while I was there.

  “The council doesn’t know about the details. I didn’t want to argue with the elders, but this is serious. Roman and the damned are coming soon and they aren’t alone.”

  “And the Eye is still blind,” Gypsy added. “We won’t know until they arrive.”

  “This is war,” I declared, pushing off the bed and standing on wobbly feet. Dmitri had been right about that. I wouldn’t dwell on his deception right now, but he would suffer for his betrayal. “Jadis Pudeator and a witch named Morgan have joined the damned. That’s not the worst, though.”

  The entire room was focused on my next words.

  “Beelzebub himself is leading the damned and controlling Roman English.”

  My aunt’s hands flew over her mouth as Gypsy sank onto my bed, clearly in shock.

  “Were you injured in any way?”

  I shook my head at my uncle. “No, but there was plenty of debauchery. I managed to escape it in time, but I didn’t destroy nearly enough of them. There’s dozens of witches and some of them are quite powerful.”

  “He’s aligning himself with the enemies of the Salem bloodlines,” my aunt correctly deduced.

  “Yes, and he’s gaining numbers daily. Roman has made the Tomb of Lost Souls his home. Every hour he recruits more into his damned army.”

 

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