by Deanna Chase
“Being a rook makes me fairly immune to temperature issues.” He nodded at her. “Slip your arms through or it’s going to be rubbish trying to hold your hand.”
She laughed softly and did as he asked, tucking her bag under one arm.
He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Nearly midnight.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“Have you checked your phone? Any messages from the girls?”
She dropped his hand and took her phone from her purse. The screen was blank. No notifications. She smiled, thin-lipped and tight, as she dropped the phone back into her bag. “Nothing new.”
He took a deep breath, nodding slowly, then held his hand out to her. “Let’s walk.”
She took his hand in response, and they headed down the stone steps and into the garden. There were no words between them—how could there be with the heavy air of inevitability and the pressing weight of their immediate future bearing down on them?
They came to a stop at the fountain in the center of the garden. Unlike the fountain in town, this one had no gargoyles, real or otherwise.
The bubbling of the water would have been a soothing sound any other evening, but as they stood in front of the fountain, Corette’s sense of unease grew. She stared into the water. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“It’s not your fault, love.” He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. “But I’m sorry about it too.”
“It’s so unfair. I’m not going to know who you are or be able to acknowledge you, and you’re such a wonderful man.” She looked up at him. “You don’t deserve to be forgotten.”
He smiled. Sadness clouded his eyes, but she could tell he was putting on a brave face for her. “Thank you.”
She studied him. “Why haven’t you asked?”
His smile faltered. “Asked…what?”
“If I’ve fallen in love with you again?”
His gaze shifted back to the fountain. “Didn’t seem like my place. Thought you might think it was pushy too.” He shook his head. “I do love you, Corette. I suspect I always will.”
“Oh, Stanhill, that’s a horrible thing to tell me. Wonderful. But horrible.” She sniffed. “I feel awful.” She did. Like a part of her life was coming to an end. Which it was. She sniffed again, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
For the first time in her life, she was cross about being a witch. For all her gifts, she was powerless to help herself. A single angry tear trickled down her cheek.
“Now, now, don’t cry.” He pointed at the jacket. “There’s a handkerchief in the pocket there. It’ll be midnight before you know it. Let’s go out on a happy note.”
She dug into the pocket, but all she found was a little velvet box. She pulled it out. “What’s this?”
His eyes rounded slightly. “Nothing, love. Must be cuff links or something I left in the pocket—”
She opened the box and gasped. An enormous blue sapphire surrounded by sparkling diamonds twinkled up at her. “This isn’t nothing. This is an engagement ring.”
He swallowed but didn’t say a word.
She looked at him. “Goddess help me, you were going to propose tonight, weren’t you?”
He stayed still for a long minute. Then he sighed and nodded, the pain in his eyes clearly visible. “I was.”
A surge of panic ran through her. “What time is it?”
He glanced at his watch. “Eleven fifty-three.”
She snapped the box shut and stuffed it back in the jacket pocket. “Kiss me. Before I forget you forever, kiss me. Maybe the universe will smile down on me and I’ll be able to remember that much of you.”
***
Stanhill didn’t need to be told twice. He swept Corette into his arms, cradling her lush form with one hand on her back and the other on the curve of her divine hip. He kissed her, devouring her mouth with the kind of passion he’d been holding back all evening.
If this was the last time he was ever going to kiss her, then bollocks, he was going to give it everything he had.
She moaned in pleasure, a noise that was very un-Corette. At least the Corette who was currently in his arms. The Corette he’d been intimate with made that sound often enough that he’d come to recognize it as his cue to keep doing whatever he was doing.
In this case, he kept kissing her.
She clung to him, holding on as if for dear life. But best of all, she kissed him back. Maybe in those last few moments, she had fallen in love with him again.
Sadly, he’d never know. It was too late.
Fireworks punctuated that thought as they erupted in the sky above them. A Black and Orange Ball tradition that occurred every year at the same time.
Midnight.
Pain racked his body, the sensation of his heart being torn in two. He released her, almost afraid to look into her eyes, so for the moment he kept his focus lower. Color spilled over her in washes of light as the fireworks continued to explode in the sky. Questions pummeled his brain with the same intensity. Would she look through him? Or think he was someone else? Or worse?
He finally shifted his gaze to hers. Her lids were heavy, her chest rising and falling with what he hoped was the exhilaration of the kiss. She put her hand to her heart as her eyes rose to meet his.
She tipped her head to one side. “Did you just kiss me?”
And so it began. He nodded, wondering who she thought he was. “Yes.”
Another boomer went off over their heads, showering them in a glittering spray of silver light.
She stared at him. “You either literally kissed my brains out or I’ve had too much to drink. Everything seems so foggy.”
She put a hand out, taking hold of his arm as she glanced around. “We’re at the Black and Orange Ball, right?”
Now this was just odd. “Yes. We’ve been here all night.”
She blinked a few times, then looked back at him. “How much have I had to drink? I swear, my darling, I cannot remember how I got here. I feel like a bit of a ninny. I don’t feel drunk, but I must be.”
My darling? He stared at her. “Are you telling me you don’t remember anything that’s transpired this evening?”
Her brows knit together and she frowned. “Not…really. There are moments here and there. We sat down to dinner.”
He nodded.
“Then I think we were in the coatroom together? With Pandora? Although I can’t imagine why.”
“Yes, we were.” He was on the verge of hope, but he’d been there before too many times this evening and ended up disappointed.
She gave him a funny little half smile. “Beyond that, I’m not sure.”
“What’s the first thing you remember clearly?”
“I had just finished getting ready and I went downstairs to show the girls my dress. They were working on a spell, something someone in town had ordered…” She blinked up at him. “You know, it goes pretty dark after that.”
He wanted to whoop and yell and carry on like a football hooligan, but his breeding restrained him. Instead, he smiled. “My dear, I don’t know how, but something very good has happened.”
“Oh?” She smiled full-on this time and leaned into him. “Tell me.”
He explained everything that had happened. And everything that hadn’t. “And somehow, now you’re back to you again.”
She tapped her fingers on his chest. “You kissed me three times and after each time, I forgot what had happened?”
“That’s exactly right.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell you what happened. Love’s true kiss in its most powerful number: three. You saved me from that horrible spell, Stanhill. You did it.” She looked away, blinking at tears. “I cannot imagine forgetting you. You’re…everything to me. I love you beyond words. I owe you my happiness. I owe you my life.”
He snuck his hand into the pocket of the jacket she was still wearing, using his rook speed and stealth to do it as quickly and quietly as possible. “Then repay me by beco
ming my wife.”
He dropped to one knee as he opened the little box.
She gasped again, just like the first time she’d seen the ring, but apparently she didn’t recall that she’d already seen it. He was glad his proposal could truly be a surprise. And a moment she would actually remember. She clasped a hand to her mouth as amewl of happiness escaped.
He held the ring up, the pain in his heart gone, replaced by a sense of joy so overwhelming there weren’t words to describe the lightness of his being. “I love you, Corette Williams. And I always will.”
She reached down and cupped his cheek. “You are the best man I’ve ever known, Stanhill. It would be my great honor to marry you.”
He stood and slid the ring on her finger.
She looked up from the ring to gaze into his face. “You know, I think I must have suspected you were going to propose tonight. I think it’s why I spent so much on this dress.” She laughed as she shook her head. “I can’t believe what a night it’s been.”
“That’s an understatement.” He kissed her softly.
Behind them on the terrace, the french doors flew open and Pandora, Marigold, Charisma, and Delaney came tumbling out.
Delaney pointed toward the fountain. “There they are. Stanhill!” Delaney waved. “Hang on, we’re coming.”
The four women hustled down the flagstone path as best they could in their evening wear, their high heels making a clatter on the stones like a herd of tiny stampeding horses.
“Mom,” Pandora called out. “Are you…okay?”
A huge smiled broke out across Corette’s face, and she lifted her hand to show off her ring. “I have never been better.”
The four skidded to a stop, confusion marring their pretty faces. Marigold spoke first. “You’re marrying a man you don’t know?”
Charisma was next. “That can’t be the case. You know him somehow, don’t you?”
Corette laughed. “I do. I know exactly who Stanhill is.” She gazed up at him. “He’s the love of my life. Always has been, always will be.”
Delaney shook her head. “But the spell?”
“Broken,” Corette said as she reached out to take Charisma’s hand. “By love’s true kiss. Three of them to be exact.”
“I knew it!” Charisma said as she and her sisters hugged their mother.
“Yes, dear, you were right,” Corette admitted.
Delaney hugged Stanhill, her eyes misty with happy tears. “You did it. And you guys are getting married!” She let him go as the sisters stepped back from Corette. “Oh, I’m going to make you the best cake ever.”
Pandora nodded. “And I’ll cast a spell over it to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
Stanhill put his arm around Corette and the two of them smiled. “The cake sounds lovely,” he said. “But maybe we’ll take a pass on the magic for now.”
Pandora snorted. “Yeah. Considering recent events, that’s probably best.”
Charisma swiped a hand through the air. “This will be a magic-free wedding if it has to be.”
Marigold rocked on the balls of her feet like she’d just had an idea. “How about a bouquet of forget-me-nots?”
Laughter answered her.
Corette nodded. “Under the circumstances, I’d say those would be appropriate.”
Stanhill looked at Corette, his gaze going serious. “I spent most of the night thinking I was going to lose you. Now I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you. I could not be happier.” He looked at the four women gathered around them. “I love each one of you for your help.”
Corette leaned into him and addressed the women as well. “Yes, thank you. Now you girls go back to the house, all of you. Go dance or eat cake or something.”
She glanced at Stanhill, eyes shining with bright desire and unbridled joy. “My fiancé and I have some more kissing to do.”
Click here for Hex the Halls, our bewitching holiday anthology. Release date: Nov 17th. Want to be up to date on all books & release dates by Kristen Painter?
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About the Author
Kristen Painter likes to balance her obsessions with shoes and cats by making the lives of her characters miserable and surprising her readers with interesting twists. She currently writes paranormal romance and award-winning urban fantasy. The former college English teacher can often be found all over social media where she loves to interact with readers:
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Other Books by Kristen Painter
URBAN FANTASY:
The House of Comarré series:
Forbidden Blood
Blood Rights
Flesh and Blood
Bad Blood
Out For Blood
Last Blood
The Crescent City series:
House of the Rising Sun
City of Eternal Night
Garden of Dreams and Desires
PARANORMAL ROMANCE:
Nocturne Falls series:
The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride
The Werewolf Meets His Match
The Gargoyle Gets His Girl
The Professor Woos The Witch
Sin City Collectors series:
Queen of Hearts
Dead Man’s Hand
Double or Nothing
Stand-alone books:
Dark Kiss of the Reaper
Heart of Fire
All Fired Up
Bad Moon Rising
Angelica Mortis #1
By Michele Bardsley
When demon hunter Angelica Mortis receives a mysterious package, its unusual contents enacts a prophecy that brings a smart-ass (but cute) wizard named Roc into her life—and threatens to unravel her secret past.
Chapter 1
In the small, badly lit office of Demon Hunters, Inc., Angelica Mortis and her partner Graddock Bradenton leaned over a desk. They both peered at the small, brown paper-wrapped box that they’d found on the doorstep. Angelica’s name had been scrawled on it, but it had no return address. They hadn’t found any clues about where it had come from or who had dropped it off.
“Money?” Graddie’s voice was hopeful. “Come on, large wad of cash!”
“Bomb,” suggested Angelica cynically.
He poked it. “It’s not ticking.”
“Bombs don’t have to tick.” She batted his hand away. “Maybe it’s biological. We could open it and poof …poison sprays in our faces.” She grabbed her throat and made choking noises.
“You’re horrifyingly jaded.”
“I was raised by a demon and a demon hunter,” said Angelica. “Jaded is my family’s only point-of-view.”
“You’re too hard on your parents. Maggie kicks ass. And your dad is hot.”
“Ew.” Angelica punched him in the shoulder. “Do not mack on my dad.”
Graddie waved away her protests. His fingernails were painted neon pink, which matched his dress, heels, and wig. His make-up, as usual, was perfect. He was sexy as a man or a woman.
Angel did not wear make-up very often, which drove Graddie nuts. Her eye color, which Graddie had dubbed “sea-green,” didn’t look good surrounded by most eye shadow colors. She didn’t like color all that much, anyway, and rarely wore anything other than white. And white only because her mother never wore anything but black. And she kept her raven-black hair long, though she wore a tight French braid during battles, because her mom wore hers short.
“I say we open it.” Graddie scooped up the box and shook it like a maraca.
Angel reached for the package, but her drag queen partner was nearly a foot taller than her. He held it above her head and laughed.
“You don’t know what’s in there!” she screeched.
“I will in a minuuuuute.” Graddie danced backward,
and Angel aimed her boot at his shin. He darted to the left. “Hey! Don’t kick me! I bruise easily and you’ll ruin my perfect legs.”
“Okay, okay. You do have pretty good legs.” Besides, the damned bomb would’ve gone off by now. “But you’re still a dumb ass.”
“As long as it’s cute, I don’t care about the intelligence level of my ass.” He tore off the paper, throwing it into a nearby trashcan, and then removed the lid. He stared at the contents, frowning.
“What is it?” Angel asked.
“Statuary. God, I hate knick-knacks.” He handed her the box. “Do you think it’s worth anything? Maybe we could sell it to a pawnshop and go to Dusky’s for drinks. It’s half-price night.”
“It’s always half-price night for you. The bartender wants to get under your skirt.”
“That’s not all he wants to get under.” Graddie chuckled. “He’s so yummy, I’d do him.”
Angel examined the heavy copper piece: four monkeys sat on a gnarled limb. “The wise monkeys,” she said. “If we do not hear, see, speak, or do evil, we shall be spared all evil. It’s a Buddhist philosophy.”
“And you know this how?”
She shrugged. She knew a lot about the world’s religions. Every religion had a concept of evil and demons, and she needed every advantage she could get against those she returned to Hell.
“I thought there were only three monkeys,” said Graddock.
“Mizaru.” Angelica pointed to the first chimp whose hands covered his eyes. “See no evil. And Kikazaru is the one covering his ears.”
“Hear no evil,” said Graddie. “And the one covering his mouth represents speak no evil.”
“His name is Iwazaru.” Angelica took out the unusual piece. It was heavy. The bottom was smooth and flat. All the monkeys had eyes made from green gems, all but Iwazaru, whose eyes were covered by his hands. “The fourth one is Shizaru.”
“What his story?” Graddock considered Shizaru, who covered his crotch with both hands. “No spanking the monkey?”
Angelica chuckled, though she felt anything but lighthearted. Foreboding skittered through her. “That’s why I love you, Graddie.” She touched Shizaru’s head. “His edict is ‘do no evil.’”