A Match Made in Spell (Fate Weaver Book 1)

by ReGina Welling

  "All right, Lemon, I'll be in touch."

  For the love of all that is good and holy.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sometimes I miss having a plain old house phone; the kind with a cord, and a cradle to slam the ear piece into when the person on the other end pisses you off. Jabbing at a touchscreen "End Call" button is far less satisfying, and the alternative is much more expensive. Instead, I paced back and forth across my bedroom, white rage rolling off me in waves.

  No, Kin and I didn't have any kind of arrangement.

  No, we hadn't even gone on an official date yet.

  But I hadn't expected him to just pick up with some other woman without at least letting me down easy. I mean, he was the one who pursued me. And an almost married woman, no less. How could I have been so blind to his true nature? What kind of a witch was I, anyway? For that matter, what kind of woman was I, not to have read the signs correctly? Whenever I saw Kin out and about, he was covered with adoring women. Somehow, I had brushed the fact away, focusing on the way he acted when we were alone. Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde would have been proud.

  Well, he was sure to get a rude awakening the next time I saw him. My pacing continued, and I could feel the power welling up inside me, searching for release. And there was only one person I wanted to unleash it on. I stabbed at my phone until Kin's number appeared, and hit "Send" before I had fully prepared my opening line.

  "What the hell kind of person poaches a married woman from her fiance?" I shouted into the line before Kin could finish saying hello. "And one of my clients? Really? How dare you come between soul mates! And what was I, collateral damage? If you wanted to run off with Lemon then why did you pretend to be interested in me?"

  "Lexi?" He sounded a little bit scared, and it made my blood boil.

  "Of course, Lexi. Although it doesn't surprise me that you don't know who I am--just another one of the herd of idiots following you around like a puppy. Let me just tell you this right now, Mackintosh Clark, you will steal Lemon away from Harry over my dead body!"

  Silence stretched on the other end of the line for a moment longer than I would have expected, and I almost hung up before Kin collected himself enough to respond.

  "You know, this kind of suspicion and accusation isn't going to help us in our relationship." Not the retort I was expecting.

  "What relationship? You're starting a new life with another woman. If you think I'm some kind of trollop who's content with being someone's mistress, you clearly know nothing about me."

  "Lexi, calm down. I don't even know a Lemon. Or a Harry, for that matter. Where are you getting this information from?"

  "You most certainly do know a Lemon; I've seen her practically strip naked in front of you during one of your little shows. She's always in the front row, and she's already told Harry and me that you two are running off together. What more do I need to know? Lemon isn't a liar, but I don't know you well enough to say the same."

  "Are you talking about that short little blond woman who's always dressed in yellow? She certainly looks like a Lemon, and she's always trying to touch me. But I've never even had a full conversation with her! Please, Lexi."

  Something about the pleading tone of his voice rang true to me and, trusting my instincts, I stopped my tirade mid-expletive. "Then why? I don't understand."

  "Come to my house. We can talk; sort this all out. Please?"

  I'm embarrassed to say, I crumbled. Could I have been wrong? Lemon had been acting a little nutty lately; maybe there was more to the story.

  "Fine, I'm on my way."

  ***

  Kin answered the door before my knuckles made contact, and ushered me inside without a word. I stood, taking in my first peek at his home with my arms crossed in front of my chest and refusing to make eye contact. It wasn't your typical bachelor pad, that was for sure. Deep-toned wood paneling covered sections of the ceilings and the bottom half of the walls in the entryway and great room, the spaces between painted a medium blue-gray that reminded me of the sky on a stormy summer day. An overstuffed armchair and a couch with a couple of pillows and a fuzzy blanket looked cozy and inviting. I could see the spines of many books peeking through the glass doors of a craftsman-style built-in shelving unit that surrounded a mosaic tiled fireplace.

  Pushing away the urge to explore the rest of the house, I took the proffered seat on the couch, and turned to Kin with an expression that clearly said: "this better be good."

  "Lexi, please. Tell me what's going on. I swear I don't know why this woman would say these things. Are you sure she was talking about me?"

  I sighed, my anger draining by the second. "Honestly, I don't know why I freaked out. We're not together; it's your life; you can do whatever--whoever you want. Lemon's fiance, Harry, has been in a panic for the last few weeks, and when I saw you play at Driven the other night, she was there, acting nothing like a doting wife-to-be." I relayed all the calls from Harry, all of my encounters with Lemon while Kin listened.

  "Maybe I was wrong about Harry and Lemon after all." I didn't add that it wouldn't surprise me if I had been, given the way things were going lately. "Anyway, Harry called me this morning and told me that Lemon had left him a note saying she had met a musician, that they had a future, and the wedding was off. I called Lemon myself, and she confirmed that you two were in love and that she was going to quit her job to follow you around on tour. She thinks she's going to use her PR background to make you a star."

  Kin jumped out of his chair and started pacing. "Seriously, this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! I have a day job; I just moved into this house--does it look like I'm planning on packing up and leaving anytime soon? I'm renovating the upstairs, for crying out loud. I told you about my business plan. Look at my phone; nothing from a Lemon. Or a Lime, or a freaking Orange, or from any other woman. What reason would I have to lie? You're right, we're not together, but that's not how I was hoping this thing was going to go down. Yeah, when I play, women tend to get a little overly excited. I honestly have no idea why; nobody even notices me without a guitar in my hand, and to be perfectly honest, I'd like to keep it that way. I know we just met, but I've been nothing but honest with you."

  Too bad I couldn't say the same. Telling someone you're a witch these days is like telling them you're the tooth fairy. Not that I'd ever try to pass as that crazy bitch. I closed my eyes and felt for my intuition, or my power, or whatever it was that showed me other people's soul mates. And, for the life of me, I didn't get so much as a tingle as I searched for Kin's. If he did have one, it wasn't Lemon, or I would have been able to tell.

  "She did sort of skirt my questions about how you felt about all this." I looked into Kin's pleading eyes and I caved. Or gave in to common sense, I'm not really sure which. He wasn't planning on running off with Lemon, of that much I could be sure. What I didn't know was what his intentions were with me, other than the carnal ones I could see floating around in the deep brown of his irises.

  A split second later we were in each other's arms, and he was kissing me, pushing any doubt from my overworked mind. It didn't matter, as long as I got to revel in this feeling for as long as possible. It's a little difficult to fully let go with a man when you can sense his soul mate in the vicinity, and Kin's lack thereof was both a blessing and a curse. I didn't know what it meant, but for now, it didn't matter; I could pretend he was mine, even if he wasn't destined to be, without that nagging truth hanging over my head. I'd cross that troll-infested bridge when I came to it.

  My hands explored Kin's muscled body; clawed hungrily at his shirt buttons until his corrugated chest and abs were exposed, and let out a sigh. He moaned in response, lifted me gently, and carried me, my legs wrapped around his waist, into the bedroom. The sun was barely peeking through the trees by the time we came up for air and settled into a giddy state of post-coital bliss, my head on Kin's bare chest.

  "I fully intend to repeat that many times, but I've got a show tonight that I've got to
get ready for." Kin apologized while gently stroking the small of my back. "I wish I could cancel and just stay right here. You'll come, won't you?"

  I rolled onto my stomach and wiggled closer, in no mood to end the perfect afternoon. "Definitely. Wouldn't miss it. Besides, I have a mess to clean up."

  Kin's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Come to think of it, what kind of rock star shows up on time. I think we've got a few extra minutes..."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pinky's tiny headlight hardly pierced the fading light of dusk when I tooled into town. Trading helmet hair for a slim chance of being on time had seemed like the smarter thing to do when I left, but I'd rather walk than drive my baby at night.

  The shortest route between FootSwept and Driven had my boot heels clicking down a couple short alleys, one of which only looked like a dead end if you weren't as familiar with the area as I was. A sharp rap in the just the right spot clicked the gate latch open and when I slipped through, I could already hear the steady hum of excited voices ahead.

  Stepping out of the alley entrance, two doors down from Driven, I found myself in the middle of a winding line of women waiting for an empty table. Kin's voice floated over the excited chatter like a balm on the wind. Only a balm would have been calming, and these ladies were anything but. Their tension vibrated against my senses and set my teeth on edge.

  Dodging left, I ignored the angry protest when I cut through the line and approached the bouncer, a hulk of a man whose nickname, naturally, was Tiny Tim.

  "Lexi." Tim's face lit up.

  "Busy tonight." My dry comment pulled a quick grin as he lifted the thick velvet rope so I could pass.

  A wall of protesting females slammed against my back and Tim shouted in my ear, "You think they're going to rush the door?"

  "I'll see if Brock can send someone out to help." I patted him on the arm and made my way into the club where I quickly figured out why Tim had been left to handle the door on his own in the first place; his counterparts had their hands full inside. A line of burly men was all that held a horde of frantic women back from rushing the stage where a single spotlight shone on Kin plucking the final note of a song on his guitar.

  Shrieks, catcalls, whistling, and thunderous applause echoed as the spotlight winked out and the stage lights came back up. The adoration thrown at him from the audience felt like a living thing. A monster, if I had to put a name to it.

  Weaving my way through the crowd, I dodged more than one elbow to the ribs. These women were pumped--too pumped, really. Like they were high on something. Tuning into a few snippets of conversations, I quickly realized what that something was: they were high on Kin.

  A sea of those weird moon symbols floated above the crowd, taunting me with the puzzle of a hidden meaning that had to be connected, somehow, to the fever pitch of the energy buzzing around the room.

  "Over here." Large hands grasped my arm and gently led me toward the darkened area near the back of the stage. Hale, one of the bouncers playing bodyguard for Kin, whisked open a door painted black to blend into the shadows and practically shoved me through.

  Kin waited on the other side and pulled me into his arms for a kiss that shot electricity right down to my toes.

  "Did you see what's going on out there? It's crazy." His tone suggested he meant crazy in the bad sense. "Just before you got here, they had to toss one woman out for flashing me."

  "So there are some perks to the crazy, then." My tone was dry enough to kill a cactus and earned me nothing more than a slight twitch of his lips.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd say these women were under some kind of spell." Kin twitched the curtain aside just far enough to survey the bar. "See? I didn't do anything to make them act like that." Together, we gazed at the crowd. With him safely out of sight, the whole vibe of the place returned halfway to normal, but Kin's chance statement got me thinking.

  I'm not the only witch in town. Heck, I'm probably not even the only witch in the club tonight. What if someone really was using Kin to mess with women's emotions? That kind of spell would carry a lot of karmic debt, and I couldn't think of a reasonable motive for it being cast, either. You'd have to be really powerful or really stupid to even try.

  "Can I stay back here and watch you play your next set?" I wanted to keep an eye on the audience, observe their reactions more closely. I might even spot the culprit.

  "Sure." Kin picked his guitar back off the stand and tossed a vintage guitar strap printed with 1940's-style pinup girls over his shoulder. "I almost don't want to go back out there. Will you promise to be here when I'm done?"

  "I promise." He laid warm lips against mine again and was gone.

  Everything after that happened so fast it's hard to remember clearly.

  While I sidled into the darkness cast by a stack of speakers, Kin stepped onto the stage, strummed the strings, and launched into a song. I couldn't tell you what one because the normalcy evaporated with the first note. Moon shapes written in light hovered over the guitar and over the crowd in an undulating wave.

  A mask of feral attraction fell over every female face in the room and I knew. Absurd as it sounded, Kin had been correct. These women were under a spell, and he was the one casting it. Boy, I sure know how to pick them.

  I was all ready to leave him to the fate he deserved--because if I had to watch any more of this, I was going to throw up--when he shot a panicked look my way. White skin and pleading eyes said he probably hadn't brought this on himself. I'd known it already, but the confirmation didn't hurt. Sigh of relief. The angle of his body gave me a better look at the guitar in his hands.

  The moons were actually popping out from between Kin's fingers and flew a few feet before fading away. The last time this happened, the color had been different. I clutched the edge of a speaker and closed my eyes to bring back the memory more clearly.

  Hazy at first, the image cleared. Kin sitting on the back of a metal bistro chair, his feet resting on the seat. A smile on his face, the guitar held in those long-fingered hands while he plucked at the strings. Yellow. The symbols were yellow that day, not red.

  Yellow for caution; red for danger seemed like a reasonable assumption based on the fact that the women tonight looked like they were one step away from turning into a mob--with Lemon leading the way. And there she was, right in the front row, waving her arms and screaming out her love for a man who had never said two words to her. Danger didn't half describe it.

  The estrogen in the room was running at a fever pitch and aimed right at my man. Do something. My inner voice sounded loud given how noisy it was in the place.

  Adrenaline running high, I propped open the back door just enough to give my fingers purchase when it came time to get back inside, and ran to assess the getaway situation. Kin's car sat in its usual spot around the corner, but judging by the number of women draped all over it, we wouldn't be speeding away in the Corvette tonight.

  That left calling a cab or the worst-case scenario for this time of night: Pinky.

  A taxi rolling up behind Driven would be about as discreet as sending up a flare, so I took the shortcut back to FootSwept as fast as I could go and retrieved the pink scooter from the vestibule where I left it. Pushing a scooter is a lot harder than it looks when you're trying to be stealthy.

  By the time I snugged my baby up next to the stage door exit, I was sweaty and sore. No one saw me slip back inside or sneak my way to the hidden alcove I'd left a few minutes before.

  In that short time, the situation had worsened. The bouncers faced away from the stage, arms linked to keep the screaming horde from taking Kin down. It looked like the burly men wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

  Kin's shoulders slumped with relief when he glanced back and saw me standing there. I absolutely suck at charades, so it came as no surprise that Kin didn't seem to get my pantomimed message about Pinky being right outside. I finally had to show him my helmet before his frown cleared. I gave him the circling hand wave to i
ndicate he needed to move things along, and that one he understood.

  At the end of the song, he shouted, "Goodnight everyone" into the mic and leaped off the back of the stage to land lightly next to me.

  "Come on," I tossed him my spare helmet and dragged him out the door. "Hurry."

  We hit Pinky like a force of nature, fired her engine, and pulled down the narrow access to the employee parking area that formed a dead end behind the club.

  "Go left. Take Dolman to Hastings," Kin shouted in my ear. Was he crazy? I'd have to drive through the mob of women forming outside the club to get to Dolman Street. I put our chances of getting through without them yanking him off the back of the scooter at somewhere around nil.

  Before I could answer, the side door to Driven burst open to release a second horde of women with lust on their minds and blood in their eyes. The effect of the guitar now outlived Kin's playing it.

  "Trust me." I steered Pinky past the group and cranked a sharp right hand turn onto Snyder.

  "There he is. Kin. Come back. I love you." I heard shouting from not that far behind me and poured on the gas. Pinky did her best, bless her little aluminum heart, but two full grown adults are more than she was built to carry. We soared off at a pace just slightly faster than a woman can run in a pair of dress shoes, followed by what looked like twenty or so women trying to test that theory.

  They chased us for three blocks before the less determined ones fell away to leave the die-hards behind. I banked right onto Fellows and left a few more women in the dust before I had a chance to take a glance behind me. Lemon, short legs flashing, led the charge. Who knew she could run that fast?

  "Lexi." Kin warned, "Look."

  Brake lights ahead. I should have remembered they started nighttime roadwork this week. I slowed down to think for a moment, which let the three women still chasing after us get too close. A hand latched onto the arm of Kin's shirt just as I gunned the engine again.