by Vaughn, V.
“You could send me his phone number and email address.”
“No.” It wasn’t that she was against precautions, but Cora could defend herself, and Gabby was far too nosey for her own good.
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“I know, I know. If it makes you feel better, I’ll send his deets to Hillary.” Cora trusted Gabby’s sister not to come barging in on the date or to call five times to make sure the guy wasn’t insane. A safe call was one thing, but Gabby sometimes went overboard. After her baby sister went out on a blind date with a neurotic orthopedic surgeon and then got harassed by a psycho demon, Gabby thought all guys online were fucked up losers—or worse, stalkers.
“Fine. But make sure to check your phone. We need you at the shop this weekend.”
Groan. She already had a job. She was an executive assistant at a prominent law firm downtown, but her family kept insisting on making her run over to the magic shop for this, that, and the other thing. It was always some mystical mumbo jumbo about the power of three or the power of nine or the fact that it was Friday or whatever.
Sometimes it was enough to make her want to move to New York. As much as she loved the Bay Area, she had too much family in California. Maybe she needed to go where no one knew her name.
“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Call me when you’re done.” No Good luck, sweetie or I hope your date goes well. Goddess, she needed a vacation.
“If all goes well, the date won’t end till morning, so don’t wait up. Bye!” She hung up without waiting for a response.
As she grabbed her purse and checked her face in the mirror, there was a loud beep on the phone.
Don’t think I’m gonna make it. Call you tomorrow.
Fucking A. Guess I won’t be getting laid tonight. She’d had hopes for this one. Investment Banker, crystal-blue eyes, sweet smile, wrote in full sentences, and he lived in Marin.
Still, skipping the first date was a bad sign. If he didn’t call tomorrow with a good excuse, she’d erase his number from her phone.
* * *
A half-hour later, Cora pulled out a bottle of wine. Not the cheap Two-Buck-Chuck, but the hundred-dollar bottle that she’d put off opening because she’d hoped to celebrate a promotion. With her family calling her every day the past two weeks for one emergency after another, a promotion seemed unlikely.
First there was the demon who’d summoned a succubus, only to get a leech the size of Texas instead. Then there was the vampire family with a bad case of periodontitis after feeding on gorgons. They should be happy all they’d lost were a few teeth. And every other day there was a request from the lycans, the sexy as sin wolf-shifters determined to reclaim San Francisco from the vampires. She wouldn’t have minded the distraction if the alpha had sent Clark Kane instead of his guard dogs.
As she sipped the cabernet, Cora noticed she’d left her grimoire open on the kitchen counter. Slipping off her shoes, she walked over to the spell book and fingered its pages. She loved the feel of the worn parchment under the pads of her fingertips.
Old, with earthy herbal smells, and scribbled notes in four different sets of handwriting, the grimoire had been passed down from generation to generation. She absently flipped through until she saw her grandmother’s familiar script.
CONJURING A LOVER
Cora skimmed through the spell, which called for things like lavender, basil, a lock of hair, honey, a picture of a man, and several other items. Hmmm. She had most of this stuff here at the house.
If she couldn’t see Derek tonight, maybe she could conjure up someone else to play with. Most of these spells only lasted a short time anyway. She could conjure up a hottie and he’d disappear within a day or two. It was Friday night and Hillary was working the magic shop this weekend, so she could have her fun and no one would be the wiser.
Humming to herself, she washed out her mortar and pestle and laid out six jars of herbs in a neat row with the labels facing out. She dug through her closet for a box of her grandmother’s things and found an old doll, which was used for spells like these.
Once she had the ingredients and each of the four elements in place, she chanted the words to make her dream man come to life.
By the moonlight of the Goddess Selene,
By the stars that grace the Western sky,
Grant my prayer, hear my dream,
Let this magic fly.
Make him handsome, make him strong,
Make him a wondrous sight to see,
Let him love me the whole night long,
And bring him home to me.
My lover knocks upon the gate,
And greets me with a kiss,
He’ll be the perfect date,
And my body will meld to his.
The spell is cast, so mote it be.
After finishing the spell, she refilled her glass and curled up on the couch. Maybe she could find a movie to watch. A spell like this could take several hours to work.
She was half-way through a rom-com when the doorbell rang.
* * *
Clark Kane knew the car was a piece of shit when he’d bought it, but the 1968 mustang reminded him of weekend trips down the coast with his grandfather. Hearing the engine roar, feeling the wind whip around his face, Clark forgot about the mountain of paperwork on his desk—both at home and in the office. He forgot about the pups he had to train and the shady deals they had to make with the vampires in order to keep peace in the Bay.
He’d turned down a residential street, hoping to circumvent some of the traffic, but the car sputtered, stalled, and lost its get up and go. Suck it up and get a new one or take this clunker back to L.A. The mustang hated the hills of San Francisco. And truth be told, as much as Clark loved weekends in the Sierras and running through Redwood Park, he missed the warm sun and nightlife of L.A.
He slid out of the reupholstered red leather seats and stepped out of the car. He opened the hood and checked the choke plate, but as far as he could tell, it was closed, and the fast idle cam looked fine. Going to the trunk, he poked around, looking for the vacuum gauge to check for a leak, but it wasn’t there. Fuck, he must’ve left it at home.
Call Becky. The pack had several mechanics on speed-dial. His assistant could have one here in twenty minutes. Leaning into the open window, Clark grabbed his phone from the dashboard, but the battery symbol flashed red and as soon as he went to contacts, the phone cut off. He scrambled around, looking for the cigarette lighter charger. He must have left it at the compound. Shit, I should’ve listened to Griffin. He’s an asshole, but he knows cars. His cousin had suggested an upgrade on the car, but as the beta wolf, Clark had been too busy with pack business, so he’d put off repairs for another month.
Tomorrow, he’d get a rental car or borrow one from Solomon, but tonight, he needed to get this car somewhere safe and find a way to call one of his pack mates to pick him up.
Thankfully, no one was on the road, so he got behind the car and pushed it into a parking space. He considered himself lucky that there was even an empty spot. Parking in San Francisco was as rare as snow in Los Angeles.
He looked over at the row of Victorian walk-ups, which all looked the same with their pointed roofs, long staircases, and arched entryways. Each one had a single tree in front. The only building that stood out was a bright red house a wolf would have to be blind not to see.
He remembered carrying a heavy stone object from a place like this, some mystical relic that the Buchanan witches had offered to Solomon to protect the compound from vampire attacks.
How many crimson houses could there be in the city? San Francisco definitely had its artsy and eclectic neighborhoods, but this one seemed fairly sedate. There was just this one gaudy Victorian with its blood-red façade.
Could it possibly be the same one?
In his mind’s eye, he saw a face. Her face. Yes, the blue-eyed witch with hair like burnished gold, a button nose, and full lips that matched
her curvy body. Cora.
The vision of her blurred as rain pelted his face and he looked down to see that his suit jacket and trousers were damp. If he didn’t get back in the car or into shelter soon, he’d be soaked through.
As he walked, the rain poured harder, filling his ears with the sound of the howling wind and thunder off in the distance. Stay in the car or check out the house?
Reason said stay in the car, but the beast within him wanted to give chase. Cora. The mere thought of her shot adrenaline through his veins. The chance to see her outside of work—without the needs of the pack overshadowing what he wanted—was too great a temptation.
It might be a cub’s errand, as his granddad would say, but he had to know. Spurred on by the torrent of rain and his own insatiable desire, Clark walked up the hill to the cement steps leading to the red door. He listened for her flirtatious voice, listened for the familiar sound of her four-inch heels clicking on the floorboards, but all he heard was the pounding of water on pavement and glass.
As he stepped onto the covered porch, he scented the door, and the sweet scent of vanilla and cocoa butter assailed his senses.
She was here. All he had to do was convince her to let him in.
Chapter 2
Ooh, finally! One hottie made to order. Cora adjusted her dress, but didn’t bother to pull up the neckline as she usually would. What was the point? Her boobs were full and round, just like the rest of her. Hiding them was the last thing she wanted to do tonight, when she had every hope of spending the weekend in bed.
Looking through the peephole, all she saw was tanned skin and dark hair. Well, that was a good start. Get ready, handsome, because it’s all systems go from here. The cautious part of her mind warned her. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Coraline. You don’t know who is on the other side of the door. Or what.
Could he be a what? She hadn’t exactly been specific in her request. The pictures she’d used for the spell were upper body shots. What if he turned out to be a satyr or had the body of a man but the mental acuity of an earthworm?
The doorbell rang again. She reached for the knob but stopped when she heard the voice. “Please let me in. It’s wet and getting cold out here. My car stalled and my phone died. I was hoping you could call Triple A for me.”
Was she imagining things? The voice sounded so familiar. Like she’d heard it yesterday.
With a deep breath, she opened the door.
A tall, sodden lycan stood watching her with fierce gold eyes that made her shiver down to her toes. Her heartbeat sped up, her palms got sweaty, and her toes wiggled into the lime-green shag rug by the door.
OMG. Superman is on my front porch. Gabby will never believe it.
“Clark.” His name came out like a sigh, airy, and soft, as she stood there staring like an idiot.
Of all the men she could’ve conjured, this was certainly not the one she’d expected. Mr. All-Business-No-Play-Designer-Suit-and-Tie stood on her threshold, hot, wet, and disheveled. And totally yummy. I-Want-to-Lick-You-Like-A-Creamsicle-On-A-Hot-Day kind of yummy.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Oh!” she backed up, spreading the door wide for him. His tall, broad physique filled the entryway and she could’ve melted into a puddle.
Goddess, I owe you one. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked as she led him into the living room.
“A blow dryer would be nice.”
She laughed. That was probably the first time she’d ever heard him make a joke.
“Here, let me help you out of those wet clothes.” She peeled off his charcoal gray silk jacket and tossed it onto a small wooden rocking chair by the fireplace. “It really is pouring out there, huh? The stupid weatherman said it was going to be overcast with no rain until next week.”
“He’s probably laughing right now. Or, better yet, I hope his car stalled out on a hill and he has to push it up in the rain.”
She paused at the top button of his shirt. “Is that what happened? You were pushing your car up a hill?!”
“It wasn’t inclined to move itself.”
Loosening one button, she glanced up into his molten gaze. Her body heated in response. What was that she’d said about tall, dark, and dangerous? This one fit the bill perfectly.
As she unbuttoned his shirt, she could feel the banked power within him, the raw, stark energy of a wolf stalking his prey. At any other time, she’d swear she imagined it. He’d never looked at her this way before. And he was always hanging around skinny, leggy brunettes, so she figured maybe that was his type. Of course, the Kane-Donovan clan was the largest group of lycans in the northwest, so Cora couldn’t be sure which ones were his relatives.
When she pulled at the hem of his shirt and the white tank underneath, he sucked in a breath. Cora could have yanked them off, but she was too enticed by the exposed patch of skin to bother. She ran her hand over his skin, fascinated by his smooth, rock-hard abs.
He uttered a low, rumbling growl, but didn’t push her hand away. Though she’d suspected that he secretly enjoyed her continued flirtations, he’d never let her get this close before. Now she wanted more. She stroked him again.
“Cora…” She didn’t know if he wanted her to continue, or if he was warning her to stop.
Lowering her hand, she glanced down at his polished Armani shoes and tried to get her head on straight. What if Clark wasn’t here because of the spell? And if he was, what did that mean? Would he regret the whole thing tomorrow if she jumped his bones right now?
“Let me get you a towel.”
When she stepped back, his hand caught her wrist. She met his gaze, but said nothing, afraid that any word out of her mouth would push him away.
“Don’t go too far,” he whispered, massaging her wrist with his thumb. She couldn’t move, even to close the space between them. He held her in thrall. Was the spell working on her as well as him?
“I thought you were going to go get a towel.” The corner of his lips curved into a smile as he continued to stroke her arm.
“Of course.” Yet she remained where she was. The heat in his eyes compelled her to stay. His mouth was so close, and if she stood on her tip toes, she could claim it.
Before she could decide, he released her hand. But the intensity of his gaze still entrapped hers.
Only when he whispered, “Go,” was she able to shake off the haze of desire and walk over to the linen closet. She grabbed a large, white towel and began to dab at his face, his neck, all the while thinking how much she yearned to press her lips to his.
Take the risk. The spell was working, and she’d only have so much time to enjoy it before the magic wore off. But what if that’s all it is? Could she live with that when she’d been lusting after him for months? A magical one-night stand with a stranger was one thing, but she knew Clark.
“You’re so quiet.” He swept a finger down her jawline. “Usually, you’re so animated.”
“For once, I’m at a loss for words.”
He leaned forward. “Is it because of me?”
Turning her head, she tried to hide the blush that warmed her cheeks. What was up with her? No one had ever called her shy. She always went after what she wanted—who she wanted. What was different now?
He’s under a spell. If he wanted you, he would’ve said so a long time ago. How can you trust that this is real?
“It is because of me.”
She didn’t respond, but instead, patted him down with the towel. His shirt was still on, but he no longer seemed affected by the cold. Cora peeled up the bottom of his shirt again and stared at the corded muscle. This might be her only chance to touch him, to taste him.
She wanted that more than anything.
Hadn’t her grandmother said that a love spell worked best if the man was already interested? It would’ve taken Clark hours to respond if he felt no attraction toward her. And even more likely, someone else would’ve come instead. So he must feel the pull between them, even
if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
Tonight, he’s here, in your arms. Let tomorrow take care of itself. She could think about all of the ramifications later. Just go for it. Don’t hold back.
“I think you already know what I want,” she whispered. “Let’s not pretend. Not tonight.” Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed his ear, his jaw.
She grinned as strong arms gripped her waist. Her feet dangled just above the floor. Her chest pressed into his and her arms shivered from the cool, damp fabric.
“You’re still very wet.”
He must’ve thought it was a complaint, because he set her down gently. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She didn’t want to think about what it all meant, didn’t want to analyze it the way he would examine one of his financial reports. She just wanted to feel his skin against hers.
Keeping her eyes on him, she kneeled down and kissed the taut skin of his abdomen. It wasn’t enough. She proceeded to lick a path up his torso.
“Good Goddess,” she whispered. One taste of his salty sweet skin and she was hooked. Her body reacted to his touch like candle wick to a flame. Though she knew it would burn, she wanted more, needed to get closer. A warm rush flooded through her and a pulse filled her pussy.
She glanced at the erection growing in his pants. When she reached over to touch it, he grabbed her wrists. “Not yet, darling witch.”
Darling? Her eyebrows rose at the endearment. Was that the spell talking? If so, it had worked far better than she’d planned. It was too bad that she’d only have a short time to enjoy it. Please let him remember this feeling on Monday, after the magic wore off.
“Are you sure about that?”
* * *
He looked into her wide eyes, cupped her soft cheeks and almost gave in. She looked so sweet, almost innocent. But she wasn’t, was she?
An array of scents washed over him. First and foremost was her arousal. It teased, begged for him to drag her to the large brown couch and spread her thighs open.