Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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Jane the Nymph
WANT MORE?
Enthralled Magic
Naomi L Scudder
Copyright © 2016 Naomi L Scudder
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For Kara.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many people who believed in me and told me to keep writing, keep editing, and most importantly to keep believing in myself. Below are a small fraction, because there are just too many to mention. I love you all.
Andrew, for believing in me, making me the perfect space, and for pushing me when I didn’t want to. I love you so much. Megan, who asked about my progress and never judged when it wasn’t going well. Thank you to all my lovely betas: Olivia, Jason, Danielle, and Jamie. You may not have all beta’d this one, but your insights helped shaped this one, and I’m forever grateful for your freely given time. You guys are the best. To my incredible editor Kara, who constructively deconstructed my MC—the story I told was forever changed because of you. To my eagle-eye editor Claudette, who caught every stupid semicolon and comma I wielded with far too much abandon. Sam, because you’re my favorite brother. Kelsey, who kept asking about it, and Leslie, who creepy-stalked me to find out about it (yes I know about that).
1
There were three stages of enthrallment, and this woman was dangerously close to the first.
"Oh, you're pregnant!" The words were out before I realized I'd said them. Shit.
The neighbor I never gave more than a begrudging hello, whose name I didn't know, stopped mid-step.
"How did you know?" she asked, car door and mouth ajar.
"I'm sensitive to that sort of thing," I said, trying to avoid her eyes but not missing her "What does that mean?" look.
I didn't actually know what it meant. The last few weeks I'd developed a weird sense for pregnant women. Amari said it was another aspect of my magic awakening, but the compulsion to engage new people was becoming annoying.
And dangerous. I couldn't afford another energy suck.
I needed to get out of here, and away from this woman. "When are you due?" I asked, uncomfortable with continuing the conversation but wanting to shift her focus off me.
"July," she said.
Wrong. End of June.
We stood silent and awkward, her rearranging grocery bags to shut the car door, and me pushing the black curls off my face, trying not-so-subtly to inch closer to my own car. If I could just get out of here before she opened up.
No such luck.
Like clockwork, her face lit up as she caved. "It's a girl and we're so excited!" she blubbered. "This is our first, and we're having so much fun with the clothes and rearranging and painting. Everything's happening so fast! We weren't really trying, but we weren't not trying either, ya know?" she said in one breath, head bobbing with excitement.
She'd been holding it in a while.
"Outside of immediate family, you're the first I've told!"
Her excitement was so contagious, I found myself smiling back at her. "Congratulations," I said and moved toward my car.
If that was the brunt of it, I might get away from this unscathed. Only a few more steps and I'd be safely in the car.
I really couldn't handle another energy drain.
"Um, Zora? It is Zora, right? Zora Joutsen?" I nodded and swallowed a sigh of resignation. This was exactly why I tried not to talk to people. She took half a step toward me, body leaning forward desperate to close the distance. "I know we don't talk but, um, maybe we could?"
"I'm really busy," I said, and got in my car. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I knew the exact look on her face. I'd put it on many others.
She didn’t know why I was so appealing, only that I was. She didn’t know that my magic called to her, or that if I allowed it, she’d drain me dry of every bit of it.
I wouldn’t let it happen again. Not to me. Not to anyone.
2
"So stupid! You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?" I scolded myself as I drove from one end of The Circle to the other. I never talked to nons. It just wasn’t safe.
I also didn’t normally drive across town, the distance didn’t warrant it, but today I was determined to get some work done. I had my laptop and notes with me, and I wasn’t about to get sweaty carrying both.
On the outskirts of Baltimore, The Circle - affectionately nicknamed for the treacherous traffic circle in the center of town - was home to many like me.
"It happened again," I said and threw myself into my favorite barstool across from my favorite person at my favorite writing spot.
“That’s my seat,” a shifter said from behind me.
My favorite place to write also happened to be a dive bar - one that catered exclusively to the magically inclined - or as we call ourselves, practitioners. A non practitioner, someone unaware of magic, would have trouble finding the bar, thanks to some excellent wards.
“Really?” I spun the stool around to face the shifter. He hovered above me, white T-shirt showing off the typical bulky shifter build. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s my ass that’s in it.” I said, staring the wolf down.
He growled at me. A low, subtle growl, but a growl all the same.
Amari stepped in. "Jake, you know as well as anyone - that’s Zora’s spot.”
The shifter’s lip curled, exposing one very sharp canine. “Jake,” Amari warned before a second growl left his throat.
The shifter snorted, a gross and dismissive noise, turned on his heel and found a new spot.
“You know better than that.” Amari scolded.
“What? He started it.” I said.
“They pay my bills, Zora. All of them. Try to be nice to the other practitioners, OK?”
“You know just as well as I do, that’s impossible,” I said.
Amari shook his head at me, poured me a cranberry juice, and changed the subject. “So what happened this time?” he asked, crossing his arms over a fitted grey vest. Amari was an impeccable dresser. Today, he paired his vest with a deep crimson shirt. I’d never asked if he had his suits tailored, but they fit his tall, lean frame like he had. “Did you find another pregnant woman?”
; “Yes. And I couldn’t resist talking to her.”
Amari sighed. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Z?”
"I don't mean to." He lifted an eyebrow at me. "I mean, I didn't intend for it to happen." His other brow rose. "For fuck’s sake, she was pregnant! It just slipped out," I said.
Amari took both my hands, keeping me from fidgeting with the unopened laptop. His bar-worn, golden brown hands drew stark contrast to my pale fingers.
As the first trickles of his energy reached me, my eyes snapped up to meet his. The smile he gave me bypassed his full lips and went directly to his velvet brown eyes. "Relax into it," he whispered.
A shiver crept up my spine as I closed my eyes and breathed into his flow. His tingles were warm and gentle, soothing and pulsing their way up my arms and into my core. "There," he whispered. "All you needed was a little centering."
"I could have done that myself," I said half-lidded and near floating from the energy rush.
He smiled. "I know, but I like doing it for you. Besides, you just have to give yourself enough time to adjust to your new ability."
Amari turned my hands over and kissed the inside of both my wrists, as I wondered what possible point being a pregnancy bloodhound could serve. It was a useless ability. Plus, it lowered my guard, which made me more susceptible to accidental energy abuse. "I assume you're here for work and not play?" he asked, the suggestive glint in his eye fading as his gaze found my laptop. I nodded. "Shame," he teased, and pushed a vagrant curl from my face. "I'm on the other side of the bar today, let Jade know if you need anything," he said, and flinging a towel over his shoulder, Amari headed to the other end of the bar.
I watched him openly and, tried to dispel the sexual energy Amari always brought to life within me. Holy hell, that man knew how to turn me on.
Amari Faa was by far, the sexiest man I'd ever been with. He had all the traits I wanted in a mate, and some I hadn't known I wanted - like, he was always impeccably dressed.
He favored three-piece suit sets, only without the jacket. He always chose bold colors for the shirt, and a neutral colored vest, which he wore unbuttoned at the collar and with rolled sleeves, because what bar owner wants wet sleeves?
Smiling at his back, I gave a nod to Jade and hoped she didn't take that as an invitation for conversation.
"Hey you," she said. "I haven't seen you here in a while."
Damn it. I really liked Jade, but I had work to do. Though she'd never admit it, part of Jade's magic was an effortless charm and charisma. She felt at ease in any social situation and could talk to anyone about anything. It made her an extraordinary bartender, especially considering The Laughing Cat's rowdy clientele, but it also made it easy for me to get caught up in conversation with her. For hours.
"Yeah, I've been procrastinating."
"Oh. Well, I won't keep you from your work. Just let me know if you want anything," she said and topped off my cranberry juice. Jade knew I never drank while I worked. I was too afraid of becoming one of those clichéd drunken writers. But she always put a stirrer and a lime in it to make it look like a real drink.
"Oh, Annie and I are planning a girls' night soon. You are coming this time, Zora. No excuses."
"I'll think about it," I said around a smile.
"You better." Jade winked at me and went back to cutting her garnishes.
I sipped the almost-too-tart juice and opened my laptop, determined to finish at least a rough draft of the first chapter of my next book.
I'd returned from my research trip two weeks ago. I'd been excited, almost giddy to start roughing out a draft. But I hadn't written a single word since I'd come back and I had no clue why.
"Alright, let's work it out," I muttered to myself and settled into my barstool. I reached inside for all the reasons I'd been procrastinating. Looking inside was a learned practice, not magical or supernatural. It was merely habit. Whenever I was in a funk or my mood was off and time didn't resolve it, a bit of introspection always did.
Everything that came up boiled down to one thing.
I was afraid.
I’d been so excited to start this new book. My research trip only confirmed what I’d suspected. Our magical system was broken. Nons feeding on practitioners, and practitioners becoming angry and hostile around other practitioners. It wasn’t normal, and I hoped to do something about it with my next release.
Other magical systems had issues, sure, but ever since I’d been attacked by a non, I’d been looking for a way to fix our system.
But I was scared senseless that I didn't have it in me to do it right.
I rubbed at the scar across my ribs. "That's going to stop," I said, catching Amari's attention as well as few of the regular's. Amari showed his encouragement with a wink and a nod.
"Go get 'em," said a regular. "Sláinte," he added with a raised whiskey.
"Sláinte," I repeated and lifted my cranberry juice to the fae man. He snickered softly at me - my Gaelic was terrible.
With a new found determination, I hooked a booted ankle around the leg of the barstool, and scooted myself closer. I opened a new document, put my earphones in, and started typing.
It flowed through me easily, effortlessly, as if it was already within me and I was merely uncovering it. Sometime during the first chapter, Jade put a sandwich beside me. Somewhere in the third chapter, I finished eating it. At last call, I had four chapters. They were rough and gritty, but I knew I had the bones of something great.
3
Feeling satisfied and more than a little pleased with myself, I closed the laptop while Amari counted the last register. "I really like watching you write," he said, eyes still on the money.
"Why's that?" I was completely befuddled. I had no idea how I looked when I worked.
"You're so intensely focused, so single-minded in your attention. There was nearly a bar fight two seats from you. You never noticed."
I shrugged.
"What kind of sandwich did Jade give you?"
I shrugged again.
Amari shook his head. "That's what I'm talking about. I wish I could focus like that." Amari put the stack of bills down and walked to my side of the bar. "You're the most relaxed when you're focused," he said, pushing the hair from my eyes and tilting my chin. "I know," he said, reading my look, "it doesn't make sense, but it's as if you're completely free when you write. It shows in your posture and expression." He traced the line of my jaw, "You glow when you write. You look so…" he paused, hunting for the right word, "peaceful."
I didn't know what to say.
Amari smiled at my silence. "Give me a minute to finish counting the drawer and you can read what you have to me." He disappeared into the back.
I pulled up the document, and tried again to shake off the sexual energy he quite intentionally laid on me. Amari reappeared just as I'd gotten myself together. He poured us drinks and raised his glass. "To not procrastinating," he toasted, tapping his glass on mine. I downed the drink in one swallow.
"Blech! Amari, you know I don't like gin," I said.
"I know, but I like the face you make when you drink it," he snickered.
I gave him a pretend pout, a poke in the ribs, and cleared my throat. "Ready?" He pulled up a stool and motioned he was all ears.
We read and write about creatures with powers, with magic, with supernatural abilities. About superheroes, witches, vampires, and fae, for one reason. We read about them because we want to be them. Not literally, not most of us anyway. But we want to feel like we have power or control over the circumstances of our life. Like we can enact change in our own lives. Most of us feel like life is happening "to" us, instead of creating the life we want. Instead of living for the joy of experience, we live in fear of failure. We live in a world afraid of everything. Of change, death, disease, of anything that's different than what's directly in our comfort zone. And that's no way to live at all.
Nervous about his opinion, I dared a glance at Amari. I'd never shared my
work with him unless it was thoroughly proofed and edited - sometimes not even then.
I was not thrilled about his expression.
"You don't like it?" I asked before he could erase the look of disapproval.
"I don't not like it," he said, shifting his weight. "It just seems a bit...preachy. I thought you were under contract for another urban fantasy novel. This sounds like the beginning of a self-help book."
Ouch. Amari never pulled punches with me. Most of the time I appreciated his painful brand of honesty but this time stung. A lot.
Amari instantly read my expression. "I'm sorry. That was harsh. It's so different than what you've done before. Your publishers won't be expecting it."
"I know. I'm worried too, believe me. That's why I put off starting for so long." I closed the laptop and stuffed it in my bag. "But it's true," I said as we walked to the hidden staircase at the back of The Laughing Cat. "People are drawn to the genre because they're looking for a way to their own power. That's why I was drawn to it in my teen years. That said, I will admit you are a little bit right."
Amari nodded as he unlocked the door to his loft.
"I don't want to write a self-help book but I do want this book to have everything a non-practitioner needs to find their own power - mostly so they stop sucking ours.” I sighed and rubbed the only scar I had. “I'll rework it so it's not heavy-handed."
"I'm sure you'll work it out," he said, pushing the door open and snagging my wrist in one motion. "Enough shop talk for now," he whispered into my hair as he pulled me inside. "I've been waiting for closing time all night."
If I wasn't already in the mood Amari's loft would have gotten me there. Every surface and corner dripped with sensuality. Amari's sense of style combined the Roma flair for color and rich fabrics with Eastern feng shui and minimalism.
Energy moved throughout his loft with ease, and the different living spaces were separated with gorgeous Persian rugs or contrasting color schemes. Each item was chosen with care for the aesthetic.
He took the same approach with the layout and design elements of his bar. But instead of fostering a feeling of intimacy and sexuality, The Laughing Cat offered an energetic welcoming for all of the magically inclined. Warded against the non-practicing, that is, anyone generally unaware of magic, his was the only bar in the county catering exclusively to practitioners.
Enthralled Magic (The Circle Series Book 1) Page 1