PRAISE FOR THE ENCHANTED SERIES
“This book enthralled me and I eagerly went from story to story. Excellent read.”
―LONG AND SHORT REVIEWS
“All of these writers bring something different to the table, but no one can touch the three of them when it comes to paranormal.”
―RANDI PERRIN, AUTHOR OF VIRTUE OF DEATH
“This is my new favorite anthology, and I will be eagerly awaiting the next installment.”
―E.DEROMA, AMAZON ReviewER
“Take my high recommendation that you need to pick up this collection of outstanding stories. I can't express enough how much I was immersed in this book. To give you an idea how much I love this I'm gonna tell you my first thoughts when I finished reading. ‘ this book went from super fun to crazy, to down right explosive’”
―E.A. WALSH, AMAZON REVIEWER
MAGIC FLAME
Enchanted: Book Three
Sara Dobie Bauer
Em Shotwell
Wendy Sparrow
Pen and Kink Publishing
CANADA
Anthology Copyright © 2018 by Cori Vidae
All stories are copyrighted to their respective authors, and used here with their permission.
“All’s Fair in Love, War and Demigods” © 2018 by Wendy Sparrow
“These Resting Bones” © 2018 by Em Shotwell
“Destiny’s Dark Light -- Part Three” © 2018 by Sara Dobie Bauer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Pen and Kink Publishing
Edmonton, Alberta
www.penandkinkpub.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout based on “Spark” © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover design and layout by Amanda C. Davis using art licensed from Fotolia.com
Edited by Cori Vidae
ISBN: 978-1-988233-31-4 (physical)
ISBN: 978-1-988233-32-1 (electronic)
CONTENTS
ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE, WAR, AND DEMIGODS
THESE RESTING BONES
DESTINY’S DARK LIGHT: PART THREE
WENDY SPARROW
ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE, WAR, AND DEMIGODS
Chapter One
It’s not that Donovan Rowe had anything against women. It’s just that he’d rather die in a fire than have to be romantic. He was a demigod of war. He didn’t do romance. He was strong, started fights, and had an unnatural gift for strategy and channeling the rage of others. Donovan had been good at war and he’d planned on being a soldier until his time on Earth had burned out. Instead, an injury had sidelined him and taken his eye. And, now, because fate was cruel and someone on a higher plane hated him, Donovan had to make nice with a demigoddess of love.
Love.
What did he know about love?
Why did he have to give the Slone boys his contact information? He’d been able to justify not hunting for his match because he just didn’t care if he lived or died. But they’d plugged his name into a website and found his match. Whoever heard of a demigod dating site? It was stupid. But now he was matched. Some woman up in Portland and if he didn’t go make nice with her, she’d go to sleep and die sometime in her late twenties. He’d have killed her. He didn’t kill demigoddesses. It was wrong.
He looked at her profile again. She was twenty-six. It could happen any day now. He was twenty-eight, but he’d pushed it off through prize-fighting… expelling his energy regularly. Who knew what a demigoddess over love did to get rid of her energy…
Donovan smiled. It might not be all bad.
But she lived in Portland. There probably wasn’t a decent fight in all of Oregon.
Valerie. Val. Not a bad name. Not necessarily a good name either though. Had the same start as valiant so it sounded somewhat strong. Not that strength was probably important to her… or anyone who lived in Oregon.
What would they even talk about? They’d be so bored. Maybe they could just live side-by-side or be roommates. If she liked to cook, he’d be okay with that. Keep it platonic. Might be difficult with someone big on the whole love thing.
But not in Portland.
They’d have to leave Portland.
Chicago. They could live in Chicago. Or Miami. Actually, he’d found some great fights in L.A. He’d let her pick. As long as she was reasonable about it. And why wouldn’t she be? She was a demigoddess of love, she’d be all tender and soft and sweet.
He zoomed in on her picture. Was that a tattoo peeking from underneath her collar? Her eyes were interesting—a mix of brown and green. Her hair was a sleek cut that framed her jaw in dark brown strands. Valerie Mason. She was not exactly beautiful—if you were looking for the normal sort of beauty, but definitely intriguing. And, he wasn’t winning pageants, even before he’d lost his eye.
Frowning, he touched his eyepatch. What would she think of that?
Oh well, he couldn’t let her die. Might as well make the best of it. He opened up an email and cracked his knuckles.
She ducked right before sweeping his leg. When her partner was down on the ground and pinned, she looked up at the crowd around her. “And that’s how you end a fight. Now, if you want time to get away and to quickly disable your opponent, what are your targets?”
“Eyes, nose, throat, nads!” they all yelled together.
“If you go for any of those targets, you’re fired,” the guy below her said.
Allie grinned down at him. “Don’t worry, Rob, I want nothing to do with your groin.” She got to her feet and reached down to help him up.
“Good. You’re not my type.”
Raising her voice again, she said, “Now, today’s foray into offensive moves was just to give you a taste of kicking-ass. I teach a kickboxing class one night a week that’s more aggressive. No matter what, you’re in charge. You can take control. I don’t believe in not harming others but if they bring the fight to you, you have the right to not be a victim! You deserve respect! Now, I want you to break into teams and practice some of the blocks we worked on last week. If anyone wants to try an offensive shot or two, I can take you on and practice my own blocks. And, as you know, we have a counselor available for the next hour in her office in the back for if you have something on your mind fighting its way out.” She looked around at the handful of women attending the class. Some were staying in the nearby secure shelter. Others knew this gym had resources for at-risk women and their children and came for the classes. It was an amazing group.
Her boss nodded and waved at the class as he left the big gym they used for classes.
A woman in the back raised her hand. “When are you back to being a lawyer?”
Allie looked at the clock on the wall. “I can probably be a lawyer in an hour or so, but only for like a half an hour tonight.” She had a miniscule office in the back where one of the city’s premier mediation lawyers worked for peanuts. “I’m supposed to meet a plane tonight so that’s all I can spare.”
Everyone in the class grinned.
She’d told one person. One person. She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I make my love connection tonight. Hopefully, I won’t have to punch him in the nads right away.”
They all laughed. Which was probably a big accomplishment as, in this offsho
ot location of the woman’s shelter, most of the women had been unlucky in love. Robert had been grudgingly accepted in here since he was gay, but some women still gave him a wide berth.
Two hours later, she was speeding toward the airport in her restored vintage Mustang. Her shower had been more a quick splash and she had on a pair of snug jeans and a t-shirt that said, “Come a little closer, I don’t bite… much.” She hadn’t felt like pulling her regular work clothes back on at the gym. Not that she thought Donovan Rowe would appreciate her sophisticated business suit anyway. Now there was a man she might never bring by the shelter. He looked like a thug. No, he looked like the enforcer all the other thugs went to when they needed another thug killed.
She grinned. Basically, he looked hot.
Her job in mediation wouldn’t always drain her abilities completely—she was getting slower and slower—but time spent with Donovan Rowe ought to balance her out nicely. Lately it was hard to drag herself in to the shelter for her volunteer shifts. Especially since many of the women deflected her powers when they first arrived and there was enough new arrivals right now that her energy was in a pinball machine. She needed the balance of her matched demigod.
After she’d arrived at the airport, she waited down by the baggage claim. Her body recognized he’d entered the area long before she saw him. This was her first experience with a war demigod, but she’d been around others with a kinetic rather than sedating energy.
Her favorite part about Mr. Donovan Rowe was his obvious discomfort with any human interaction. The email. The look on his face in the picture that was posted on his profile. All had firm “no trespassing” signs in a protective barrier around him.
Allie turned and there he was. He looked suspicious.
A warmth spread through her chest. She’d been coldhearted her whole life, not impressed with most of what the male gender had to offer, but, right here, right now… damn, this was a guy she could love.
He walked up to her and tilted his head. “You have a tattoo.”
“It says ‘Love Bleeds’ inside a heart. You’re missing an eye.”
“Combat. Bayonet to the face. I can bench press 500 pounds.”
“Sounds like I can gain some weight and you could still carry me over the threshold.”
He narrowed his eye. “You’re moving fast and you could stand to gain some weight.”
She pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket and folded it into her mouth. “Kickboxing and I’m a picky eater. What’s wrong with fast?”
“I guess that means you can’t cook.”
“That’s sexist that you expect me to. And, like I said, what’s wrong with fast?”
He leaned in toward Allie and grabbed his bag off the belt behind her. Maybe he’d expected her to get out of the way or this was a test to see if she’d shy away from him. He’d learn. She liked confrontation. “Nothing. I just thought you’d like romance.”
They were only six inches apart. It was like standing in front of an open fireplace. She was on fire. “Flowers? Poetry? Lingerie?”
“I can do the lingerie.”
“I can buy my own lingerie and I know some filthy limericks.”
He smiled. “Do you?” You’d think a smile would soften his face, but it was a predator’s smile, one that said the same thing as her shirt: I don’t bite… much.
“I do.” She leaned in and sniffed his neck. “Why do you smell like… donuts?”
“My flight got in early. There’s a donut place upstairs.”
“You’ve just been sitting up there, eating donuts?” And she looked pointedly at his hands. “And you didn’t bring me a single one.”
“Do you know the limerick about the guy from East Kent?”
“No, but if that’s your only bag we can move along and you can whisper it to me.”
He pulled the strap onto his shoulder and walked beside her as she headed toward the parking garage. “What kind of donut would you have wanted?”
“Chocolate. With sprinkles.”
He nodded. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Good. By the way, I go by Allie, not Valerie.”
“Huh. That’s a strange nickname and I’d planned on calling you Val.”
“You still can. I just won’t answer to it. But there’s really no guarantee I was going to answer to anything. Especially when you don’t bring me donuts. Now tell me about the guy in East Kent because all the dirty words I can think of don’t rhyme.”
“There once was a man from East Kent…”
Chapter Two
“You’re not taking me to a hotel,” he pointed out, sliding his hand along her dash. She even had a sexy car. She was turning all of his preconceptions on their ass. Kickboxing? She was a kickboxer? It explained her toned body.
“I have a spare room, and we’re supposed to be sharing our mojo, right?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. I don’t know many other demigods. How close are you to…?”
“Blinking out?” She shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s sped up in the last six months. A year ago, I wasn’t sure I even believed it would happen. My powers aren’t that obvious or strong. But now, I’m tired all the time.” She glanced over at him. “Do you want to hear something crazy?”
“What?”
“I got another ping on my profile this morning. Another demigod of war. He emailed me. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. One moment, I’m cruising toward extinction. The next, there are two of you.”
A dark wave of emotion passed through him. An hour ago, he’d been wishing there was another demigod to take his place. He hadn’t felt right backing out but he also wasn’t so keen on spending the rest of his immortal life with some vivacious cutesy demigod. But things had changed. Allie drove a Mustang. She was a kickboxer. She knew filthy limericks. “What are you going to say to him?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t trust him. I have a sixth sense about people—it’s like part of my gift—admittedly, usually I have to meet them, but I can sense their ability to love. This guy… there’s something about him. He’s too far gone. I can see it in his eyes. I don’t think meeting him in person would change my opinion.”
Donovan shifted uncomfortably in the car seat. And yet Allie had let him get in the car and seemed to be flirting with him. “Not that I doubt your ability to judge people but I’m sitting right here. You invited me here. Are you sure you can make that call without even being in the same city as him?”
She shot him an amused look. “Hell, you’re so sweet. You think you’re a lost cause, don’t you?”
“I am. Demigod of war.” He gestured at his face. “Cyclops.”
“If you have no depth perception, how is it you’re so good at fighting?”
“How did you know that?”
“One of the Slone boys called to warn me. Said you were a prizefighter. And, a damn good one.”
He clenched his teeth. They didn’t have any right interfering. “What did you tell them?”
Allie ran a hand along his leg. “I said I like a challenge and told them you’d be spitting out your teeth if you so much as looked at me wrong.”
He stopped the progress of her fingers up his thigh with his hand. “You’ll tell me if I look at you wrong, right?”
Allie smirked. “Maybe.” She withdrew her hand to shift gears as they got off the freeway. It was a shame this wasn’t an automatic—which was heresy to even think in a Mustang, but he’d liked holding her hand. What was the matter with him?
“So you’re going to tell this other demigod to shove off because you don’t like the way he looks?” Donovan asked.
“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?” She turned into a neighborhood of modern and expensive-looking condos. He’d expected her to live in suburban cookie-cutter houses or maybe in a small older house she’d renovated—something with a gingerbread look to it. He’d doubt she really was the demigod of love if it weren’t for the soothing, silken dampening of the elect
ric tingling in his skin. “I could ask how close he is to his zenith. I’d hate to kill him just because I already found my match.”
He swallowed. “That sounds like a good idea.” The whole thing. From beginning to end. She wasn’t going to trade-up for someone less grumpy and with two good eyes. Though maybe she should.
Allie was one of those women who only needed animation in their features to boost their looks from somewhat attractive to downright gorgeous. She’d laughed on the way out of the airport at his limerick and a half dozen tired businessmen had turned to stare at her like she’d just started stripping in the terminal. His angry glare had sent them on their way, but there was no denying she was out of his league. He glanced at her legs, showcased in the tight, worn jeans she had on. Way out of his league. She was in her own class.
Maybe she belonged with this other demigod.
Allie brushed a hand down his arm to get his attention. “You didn’t answer. How are you so good at fighting when you don’t have depth perception?”
“Oh, I wasn’t. At first. It took a long time to accommodate and reteach myself where things actually were. My right eye was already my dominate eye so that helped.” He cleared his throat. “Does it bother you?”
She pulled into a several-story mostly-glass building and parked in one of the early stalls. Huh. Unbuckling, she turned to him in the seat and pulled aside her shirt, unveiling her tattoo. Near her collarbone, the drip pattern of the bleeding heart outline was raised and bumpy and the red dripping from it didn’t look like ink. “Acid. Before I learned to control my powers a little better and got into kickboxing and self-defense, I attracted stalkers by the dozens. One of them was very persistent. I said no. He surprised me with acid one day. He had two cups in his hand and he threw one at me. I tried to block it, but the polyester of my shirt underneath my blazer burned right into my skin.” She smiled and reached out with her free hand tracing the scowl on his mouth. “My fierce warrior. And you think you’re hopeless.”
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