Mates & Magic: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance Box Set Collection

by Jade Alters

  If I were stronger with my magic, I think I’d hex Ted with hives right now. Instead, I just take a deep breath. “Um, no, not yet. But I had to work through lunch, so I’ve just been scarfing this down first—”

  “I need that ASAP,” Ted says, giving me a dark look. “Don’t make me ask me a third time. Okay, Dora?”

  What a day. What a fantastic and wonderful day for me.

  “Sure thing, Ted.” I smile tightly, and he stands there watching to make sure I get up and take the deposition to the copy room like I’m a small child.

  In the copy room, I get a lump in my throat. It’s just been a crappy day. I don’t mind things being busy, but today was jam-packed, probably because the firm has been advertising a little more lately. We got swamped with phone calls, most of which won’t actually lead to new clients. A lot of people just call up wanting to weasel some free legal advice out of an associate without paying for a consultation. There’s also the fact that I’m an executive assistant for both Charles Harrington, the big boss, and two of the associates, including Ted. They haven’t wanted to pay for proper support staff because the last couple years have been tight. That puts too much work on me and other assistants who are double or tripled up. Plus, lawyers don’t want to do anything themselves. It’s a pain in the ass.

  In the copy room, I stop myself from crying by force of will. If I cry, then mom wins. Then Ted wins! Mom and Ted can’t win. At least, not today. I tell myself that maybe Ted is just having a really busy day. He’s been friendly to me plenty of times. My mother, I make no excuses for. Her, I know too well.

  It’s times like these that I really do wish I had somebody else in my life. I would text them right now and they’d send me back a racy picture or a kiss emoji or they’d know just what to say. I could text my best friend, Callie, but she won’t get back to me for a few hours, and it’s just not the same as having a someone. I want a someone.

  The little voice in my head that’s quiet because my mother has constantly been telling it to shut up my whole life tells me there’s another answer. I could find someone right now if I really tried, and it wouldn’t be as difficult and tedious as finding that one good date in a million.

  I stand there, staring at the copier, as page after page of the deposition slips out onto the copier tray. But my brain is thinking about magic. I’m no expert at it, it’s true, but sometimes you have to take a risk for true love.

  Maybe it’s about time I took a risk too...

  Nathan

  I’m on my laptop scrolling through the attachments Jesse emailed me this morning. They’re all photos of estate pieces we might be interested in buying from sellers down in the city. I gaze around our shop trying to gauge how much room we have for more stock. We just had a sale, and it cleaned half the place out, but I still think Jesse’s eyes are too big for our stomach right now. Especially considering the rate at which we got referred to estates. I’m not even sure all this stuff will fit in one truck on a drive back from Manhattan. I don’t want to do two trucks...I hate doing two trucks.

  The bell over our door rings and an upwardly-mobile-looking young couple walks in. I love upwardly mobile young couples in our town of Coleridge in Upstate New York. Upwardly mobile young couples like to buy old houses Upstate and then fill them with expensive antiques that come from our shop on the first floor of our giant house that sits in the middle of town. Some of them even give us little winks and ask to see the back room.

  “Hi, there!” I nod at the couple from my stool behind the counter. The counter is by the corner window and gives me a nice view of the sidewalk when we part the curtains, which we only do when it’s too sunny. Too much sun will fade the furniture we keep by the windows. “Let me know if you need anything.” I don’t miss how the woman does a little doubletake in my direction and gives me an appreciative once over before taking her husband’s hand.

  For the most part, my looks help me out as a factor in the business, as do the looks of my three buddies. The body comes from, well, working out a lot when I’m not in the shop. The guys tease me about it, but they’re not laughing when I don’t need help to haul a piano. I’m 6’2” and I’m made of muscle. As a bear shifter, it’s not hard for me to pack it on. I’m also...pretty damn good-looking if I’m being honest. The guys tease me about it (as if they’re not all hot too). They call me Superman because I have jet black hair and bright blue eyes and a jaw to cut glass. For the most part, it’s helpful in business. It’s always helpful to be good-looking in this world. Unless you’re dealing with guys who feel threatened or jealous when their companion is looking at you. Then, it’s a pain. A few times, when it’s been enough of a problem, I’ve pretended to be gay. It’s not exactly difficult since I run the shop with three other guys who I also live with and also, not to be stereotypical, but we sell antiques. Plenty of people assume we’re all gay, to begin with.

  For now, I just keep my head down and let the couple browse as I make notes on Jesse’s choices. When the bell rings again, I look up to see if it’s a customer. But this time, it’s just Jesse and Grant coming in with lunch. Took them long enough. I already know Brett is upstairs in the office, working on the books. He’ll come down soon enough when he smells the tacos.

  “Did you go to Mexico to get this stuff?” I mutter as Grant hands me a bag.

  Grant rolls his eyes and smiles knowingly at Jesse. Yeah, that’s typical too. We’re a tight sleuth of bears, but we have our little pairings. Jesse and Grant are thick as thieves. One of them never even makes a decision without consulting the other. The two of them sit down at the dining table by the counter and swipe paper towels from under the counter, spreading out to eat.

  “We got customers,” I grumble.

  “Okay,” Grant says, as he unloads his small mountain of steak tacos. “Well, if they want to take a closer look at this table that’s been sitting here for six years, we’ll be happy to clear out.”

  I growl in his direction because, if nothing else, I’m the alpha and he should remember that. Grant only looks at me with his big brown eyes, all innocence. Jesse snorts a laugh at the both of us, stuffing chips in his mouth.

  I unwrap my burrito and give Jesse a nod. “You flagged too much stuff from those estates in the city.”

  “We need stock,” Jesse says, shrugging.

  “We can do better than some of that stuff,” I point out. “I can tell some of those pieces are pretty run down.”

  “Bring em’ anyway,” Grant says. “We’ve gotten a lot better at upholstering and refinishing. It’ll be fun.” I give Grant a dark look, but the brown eyes go all soft again. “C’mon, Nathan. I want to fix some stuff. At least the consignment stuff?”

  “Consignment only,” I say, sighing. “But I want to approve the markups and the cost of refinishing. Whatever it is you’re...doing.”

  “Yes!” Grant gives Jesse a high five.

  “And you have to do the drive up to the city,” I tell them. That makes them less cheerful. It’s not so much the drive as it is the truck. They hate driving the big truck into the city.

  “Alright,” Grant says. “But we’re going to stay overnight and eat all the good food in New York while we’re there.”

  “Hell yeah, we are,” Jesse mutters.

  “Oh, whatever.” I can’t help but smile though. Grant loves to think he’s getting one over on me no matter what it’s about.

  I hear footsteps from the narrow staircase by the kitchen and Brett appears, looking sleepy. He’s wearing his wire-rim glasses, and he takes them off, rubbing his gray eyes. When he sees the tacos though, he perks right up.

  “Carnitas?” He asks hopefully, taking a seat at the table.

  I toss him a Coke from the office fridge under the counter and Grant says, “Always.”

  The couple leaves without buying anything. They just give us those tight little smiles that say they were only here to browse, and they’re probably never coming back. When the bell rings again, I glance over, my mouth
full of steak. But the girl who enters makes me start to choke on my taco.

  Time actually slows down. I’ve heard of that, but I never thought it was a real thing. But when the girl with burgundy hair walks in and she turns her head to look at me, I actually do feel like it’s all happening in slow motion. I manage to swallow my food at least. The others are sitting down lower, on the other side of the desk, and they haven’t seen her yet. She smiles at me softly, giving me a little nod of acknowledgment and then turns her head again and continues on into the store. I’m left reeling, and I’m not even sure why. The primal bear part of my mind is telling me that the woman who just walked in is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen but, more importantly, that I need to...protect her? I’m not sure exactly. It’s a chaotic, sort of overwhelming feeling, and in my head, it’s expressed by vague bear sounds. Not very helpful.

  My ears perk up as I listen to her walk around. It’s autumn in New York. When she turns back around to look at the smaller displays near the front of the store, I try to inconspicuously observe her. She’s wearing brown suede boots and a long skirt. She’s wearing a pretty yellow sweater and a long scarf. She looks pretty and cozy. When I see her face in profile, I admire her creamy, porcelain skin and her bright green eyes and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

  “Psst.” I hiss in the direction of the guys at their table, and they dutifully look up at me because it’s not the first time I’ve hissed at them.

  Grant looks at me in question, and I nod in the direction of the girl who’s looking at postcards in a shoebox. I see the guys strain from their seats to get a look at the girl, and she turns just enough for them to get an eyeful. For a second, I think I’m just in kind of a horny mood, and it’s been a while. But then I see how all three of them look like they’ve just been hit over the head.

  We, all four of us, have a silent conversation with our expressions because she’d hear us if we said anything. They look at me in question as if to ask why they’re so affected, or what the hell is happening and I just shrug. I wonder if she’s a witch. She could be enchanting us right now… Except that we have pretty good magical shields on the house. She’d have to pretty powerful to—

  “Excuse me?” The woman walks up to my counter, looking hopeful. “Do you have um…” She clears her throat and hesitates. I can tell right away that she’s heard we’re a magic shop on the down low, and she’s trying to figure out how to ask about it just in case she’s wrong. But she’s cute, getting all nervous like that, so I kinda let her flounder for a minute just to watch. “Do you have, like, other types of items? As in very...unusual items?”

  “Yes!” That’s Jesse, who suddenly pops up from his seat like he’s been sitting on a tack. “I’ll show you!”

  Jesse escorts the woman toward the back. There’s a door behind the side chair section that says “Employees Only,” but it’s really another hidden section of stuff for sale that has nothing to do with antiques. I find myself following, and I hardly realize I’m doing it until I notice Grant and Brett are also following. It’s going to look totally weird for all four of us to show her the magic section, but we seem to be almost enchanted as we head back past the sideboards, dressers, shelving and the general, vaguely organized chaos of smaller things like lamps, tea sets and whatever is old worth some money.

  “This section has our other... items,” Jesse says. His voice has lowered an octave or two, and I roll my eyes. But I can’t blame him either. For whatever reason, this woman has affected all four of us just by walking in the door. It’s a little alarming.

  The rest of us are all crowded toward the back, watching their interaction as Jesse shows her around the one room that contains a variety of herbs and other ingredients for potions and magic brews, cauldrons, wands, crystals, books, and other ephemera. The woman glances back at us, looking a little confused as to why we’re all watching. We smile and pretend to talk to each other as if we just happened to need something from the back of the store too, which probably makes it even creepier.

  “Are you looking for anything specific?” Grant says, giving up the pretense. He shuffles by us and stands in the doorway. The woman is examining the herbs on a shelf, and when she looks over at Grant, the brightness of her eyes takes my breath away.

  “Yes, I’m actually looking for roseheart weed?” She winces when she says it, which must mean she knows how powerful and potentially dangerous roseheart weed is.

  It’s only now that she’s in close proximity, that I can feel the magic energy coming off of her in waves. That doesn’t mean she necessarily knows what to do with roseheart weed, but then again, it might.

  “Are you an advanced magic user?” The question is stern and coming from Brett because that’s how Brett is.

  The woman’s pale face flushes a little and she nods. “Yeah...yeah, of course. I know it can be a little fussy.”

  “Well, it’s more than a little fussy,” Brett says in his authoritative voice. “It demands a high degree of skill or it can be quite volatile—”

  “Brett,” I mutter under my breath. Just his name in the tone that tells Brett to shut up, makes Brett shut up and his mouth twists. “If the lady would like some roseheart weed, how about we just sell her some roseheart weed, huh?” I give her a nod and she looks right at me, and I feel like my brain skips like a record. “Uh...how much—how much would you like?”

  “Two ounces should be fine,” she says, smiling gratefully. “And I promise, I’ll be very careful with it.”

  She looks around at us, and for a moment, I think she’s as struck as the rest of us, but she ends up only taking her roseheart weed and heading to the register where Jesse rings her up and sends her on her way, telling her to come back soon.

  When she’s gone, the rest of us all relax a little. I didn’t even realize that I was a little riled up when she walked in, but now that she’s gone I feel different. I also feel like something significant has happened.

  “What the hell was that?” Grant says.

  Brett takes off his glasses and cleans them with the tail of his shirt, which usually means he’s pretending he’s not completely freaked. “I have no idea,” he says. He sounds a little raw. “But I hope it happens again.”

  Dora

  What in the actual fuck. I don’t meet as many men as hot as the four guys running the magic/antique shop in a month, much less in a day and all in the same place. The guy who showed me to the back room where all the magic stuff was, looked like some CW show cast member. He had these pale, icy blue eyes and these long, thick eyelashes, and besides that, I could see his toned arms under his shirt. But the thing is, all four of them were remarkably good-looking. And even beyond that, when I walked in the door, I felt a sort of electric charge. It was like my body was buzzing. I don’t know if they felt it too, but I’ve never been so strongly attracted, so instantly, to anyone much less four guys at the same time.

  Anyway, they’ll be nice to think about in bed tonight.

  Right now, I have bigger fish to fry. I’m going to try a love spell. I’m not dismissing the warnings the antique store guys gave me about the roseheart weed. I know I probably shouldn’t even be using it. But all love spells call for roseheart weed, and I’m determined to use my magic to help myself. I want to find a someone. My mom, as awful as she is, is right about that. I want someone to laugh with, and I’ve been dating since high school with little luck. My last couple boyfriends turned out to be real duds. There were promising prospects before that. But the older I get, the worse the prospects seem to get. And the thing is, I have a real advantage. I have magical abilities, so why not use them? If I were wiser and more patient, I would probably practice with some easier spells and work on my skills. But life is short and sometimes it’s about risk.

  So, I’m trying out a spell to attract love tonight. It’s not like I’ve never done magic anyway. I just haven’t practiced in a while. But my cauldron is in good shape, and I have all the other ingredients I need fro
m the last time I was doing magic more regularly. I tend to go in phases. I’ve used magic to stop neighbors from bothering me and to make my boss think well of me. That stuff isn’t so far from a love spell. It’s just a stronger feeling you’re shooting for. That guy at the store was right. There’s also a potential for volatility when you’re using roseheart weed. I’ll just have to be very careful.

  I start taking all the ingredients down to the basement. I like doing magic in the basement for no other reason than it makes me nostalgic.

  My dad was a wizard and a pretty good one. I’ve never gotten a good handle on how he ended up with my mother at all. I could understand it if it was some one-night mistake and then they stayed together for a while because she wanted to keep me. But my mother tells it like they were really in love once, and I’ve never been able to even imagine it. They got divorced when I was a kid. My dad lives in Connecticut, and I go visit him when I can get the time in. My mother lives close. Too close. Much too close for my comfort anyway.

  But when I was a little kid, my dad made no secret about his magic. He used to let me help him with his spells and teach me the basics of magic. If I’d kept it up more regularly, I’d be a lot more powerful. I think the reason I even do magic as much as I do is just to keep that connection to my dad. If I was smart about this, I’d give him a call and ask him for tips on this love spell. But then he’d give me a lecture about how I don’t need a spell to attract a partner and I’m plenty pretty enough and smart enough and all that. He’s nice that way, much nicer than my mom. In other ways though, he can be just as bad. He doesn’t like that I work at the law firm. That’s mostly because he just hates lawyers, but I don’t know that I’ve ever had a job that he really approved of.

  If I’m honest, I’m probably warmer to my dad because he lives far away and my mom is close and drives me crazy. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.