Magical Midlife Dating: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Leveling Up Book 2)

by K. F. Breene

  I’d felt horrible, running to his side and crouching down to put a hand on his large shoulder, asking if he needed ice, or maybe a tourniquet. Everyone else had clapped. The man was a saint.

  “Here we go. Number three.” I headed downstairs with a wrap draped across my shoulders. I couldn’t go out with nothing at all, or the non-magical people in the town would ask questions.

  I’d already decided that if this date didn’t go well, that was it for a while. This whole process was for the birds—so much time and preparation went into it, especially online dating, and for what? It was usually a total letdown, or in the case of Gary, an actual horror show. The pressure of finding “the perfect match” was messing with my head, even though I wasn’t in the market for anything serious. It was all just a lot of hassle.

  A long, low whistle dragged my attention down the hall. Ulric walked toward me, an appreciative smile on his face.

  “You look a picture. Wow.” He bowed deeply as he reached me. “Gorgeous, milady. You’ll have kings and princes fawning all over you.”

  “Who are these kings and princes, anyway?” I took his outstretched arm as we reached the stairs. “There aren’t many of them around anymore. I think all the royal men in the modern world are married and/or don’t speak English.”

  “Magical kings and princes. They only hold titles in the magical world, but most of them have extensive companies and holdings in the non-magical world. They are kings of their domains in magical society, and kings of capitalism in the non-magical world. A good chunk of the filthy rich people of the world are magical royalty.”

  I lifted my eyebrows as we reached the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t feel Damarion in the house or on the grounds. I’d be really put out if he’d decided to cancel and hadn’t mentioned it. It would be ten times worse than the run-of-the-mill version of getting stood up.

  “That’s…interesting,” I said as Mr. Tom met us in the foyer. His tux was freshly pressed, his chin raised, his air important, and a white towel was draped across his bent forearm. He looked like a caricature of a butler instead of an actual butler, especially with his “cape.”

  “Miss, if you’ll please wait in the sitting room, Mr. Stavish will be with you directly.” Mr. Tom gestured to the doorway.

  “Mr. Stavish—”

  “Damarion.” Ulric led me that way. “It’s lame to pick up a girl for a date in the hallway. He has to come to the door. That’s part of the whole process.”

  “So he’s waiting out there on the sidewalk?”

  “No.” He left me standing at one of the chairs, stepped around a random doily that Mr. Tom had clearly missed, and took a chair on the other side of a small table. He didn’t offer any more information.

  “Okay, then.”

  Mr. Tom entered with a tray holding two glasses of wine as I felt Damarion’s feet touch down on Ivy House’s property. Mr. Tom stopped, about-faced, and left the room with the tray.

  “Wait, but…” It was useless calling after him.

  “He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” Ulric whispered.

  “You’re just now realizing that?”

  Damarion used slow and purposeful steps up the walkway until he stopped at the front door. The knock was light and subtle, the knock of someone who’d clearly known I would feel him coming.

  “That’s my cue.” I stood as Mr. Tom passed the sitting room, headed toward the front door. When he saw me, he stopped, back-pedaled, and pointed at me.

  “You are to remain seated until I come for you.”

  “This has gotten out of hand,” I muttered, doing as I was told. Only then did he continue to the door. “I’m a forty-year-old woman. The need for all the dramatics got old twenty years ago.”

  Ulric whistled. “Jaded much?”

  “I’m still newly divorced. Yes, jaded is a good term.”

  He grimaced. “Probably should’ve given Damarion a heads-up.”

  The door swung open, and I heard Mr. Tom’s grandiose tone but couldn’t make out his words.

  “So…” Ulric rested an ankle over a knee and leaned back. “Why do you call him Mr. Tom, and the puca calls him Earl?”

  They’d all apparently encountered pucas before, or at least knew of them. I still hadn’t had a spare moment to do any research on Niamh’s kind. Given I’d seen her in action, I had a good idea of what the description would say. I just wanted to see if being cranky and drinking like a fish were normal traits, or her specific flare.

  “His name is actually Earl. When he met me, he…changed it—it’s a long story. Just roll with it. There is more weird to come.”

  Mr. Tom filled the doorway, the wine gone and his posture indicating he was at his most pompous. “Miss Evens, if you please.” He put out his hand. “Your guest awaits.”

  “Well…” I moved to stand but was beaten to it by Ulric, who then helped me up as though I were fragile. The last thing I needed was a younger guy, in his early thirties, helping me around like I was geriatric. “Thanks,” I murmured, hoping it was the dress and heels he was responding to instead of the age.

  Once standing, I looked at my feet pointedly before putting out my hands. “Where’s my red carpet, Mr. Tom? All this hullabaloo and no red carpet?”

  “Nice word choice.” Ulric laughed.

  Mr. Tom sniffed. “I sure hope you liven up your jokes for tonight.” He led me out and then peeled away.

  My chest tightened up, and I forgot to breathe for a moment.

  Damarion stood just inside the door holding a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. A navy blazer showed off his broad shoulders and perfectly followed the contours of his body to his trim hips. A cream dress shirt peeked out, the first few buttons undone, hinting at the defined chest underneath it. Dark, distressed jeans hugged his legs, ending at his shiny black dress shoes. His tamed hair shone with product, perfectly framing his handsome face.

  Upon seeing me, he took a hand from his pocket and offered a slight bow, his face tilting up to me as he straightened, his forehead lined and eyes a little squinted, and holy crap this guy was really, really attractive.

  I blew out a low breath. Who needed a red carpet when you had this waiting for you? I’d take a pile of loose dirt or an obstacle course if this guy waited at the end, no problem.

  “Hi,” I said, closing the distance.

  He pushed forward the flowers, the gruffness of his—our—kind showing in the gesture. His wings draped down his back on the outside of the blazer, and I realized he’d had his jacket custom-made to work around his wings rather than wearing clothes over them. That was why it fit so perfectly, and probably the shirt beneath it as well.

  How did he get them off, though?

  Heat pooled in my core as I imagined it.

  Down, girl, I thought.

  “Thank you.” I took the flowers and did the customary smell and smile, pleased down to my toes to receive them. It had been a long time.

  Except…what did I do with them? I couldn’t very well just lay them down on a table, could I? He certainly wouldn’t want to wait for me to put them in a vase—it was arduous work, especially with stems this long. I’d have to measure them against the vase and then cut them down…

  Mr. Tom saved me, as usual.

  “Absolutely gorgeous, miss.” He stepped up next to me and put out his hands. “Allow me to put them in a beautiful crystal vase so that you may best show them off.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Delighted, I handed them over. “They really are beautiful, Damarion. Thank you.”

  He nodded and the door opened, Ivy House butting in. She really wanted me to get laid. If he was startled, he didn’t show it.

  “Shall we?” He gestured me out.

  “Yes, of course.” I took my clutch from the little table by the door and led the way, Damarion falling in beside me on the walkway.

  Waiting by the curb was a silver Lexus, a sporty sedan model that I’d never seen before. The lights flashed, Damarion unlocking it while crossing to the dr
iver’s side.

  “Is this your car?” I noticed the sticker in the window, indicating it was brand new.

  “Yes. With so many non-magical people around, I decided a car would be necessary for transportation.”

  “Right.” I sat into the cream leather interior, doing a quick check to make sure everything was still safely tucked into my dress before he got in. “So you just…went and bought a car, huh?”

  He closed his door. “Yes, of course. The non-magical police frown on stealing.”

  I smiled, about to laugh, but then realized he wasn’t joking. Which then made me laugh harder. “Too true. Pesky non-magical police.”

  He revved the engine, and then we were on our way. Closed in the car together, I caught a hint of his cologne: subtle and sweet, somewhat floral.

  “Where do you live?” I asked as we headed toward the highway. “Oh. We’re not having dinner in town?”

  “No. There’s a nice restaurant in Franklin I think you’ll like.”

  “Oh, great. I haven’t really explored the area.”

  Once on a highway, trees and signs zipped past, his speed way over the limit.

  “So…where’d you come from?” I asked, having to unclench my jaw to do so. “What’s your hometown?”

  “A small town in Pennsylvania, about four times the size of this one. Only magical people reside there.”

  “Oh, really? That’s interesting. And…” I tightened my hand as he swerved around a car, our speed still climbing. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to be that woman, the one who bosses or nags or tells a man on the first date that he is doing something wrong, but I also didn’t want to be dead. It was a very fine line at that moment. I tried to ignore it, knowing he also flew at a jaw-dropping speed. His reaction time probably wouldn’t be that much different on the ground, would it? “How do you keep magical people from— Watch out, deer!”

  He glanced over when he really should’ve had his eyes facing forward.

  “What is wrong?” The car swerved around the frozen animal at the last moment, the right tires rolling off the shoulder and into the dirt before he maneuvered us back into the lane.

  “Not a thing.” I sucked in a lungful of air, adrenaline firing. “I’m just calmly watching my life flash before my eyes. It reminds me of when we went flying earlier. Remember when you suddenly dropped me, let me fall, and then scooped me up at the last minute? This is kind of like that.”

  “Yes. I’ve seldom heard a woman scream so loudly. I hope to get that volume out of you again, but in the bedroom next time.”

  I widened my eyes, not sure what to say to that. I went with the eloquence of “Yeah.”

  “You screamed through the whole lesson.”

  “Well, yes, mostly because I thought I was going to die. For a while there, I thought you might make me have an ‘accident’ for magically knocking you around earlier. I made it, though, so that’s good news.”

  “I do not have accidents in the sky.” His tone was haughty. “My purpose is to protect you, Jacinta. I would die to do so.”

  Warmth flooded me. For the second time, I didn’t know what to say.

  “Why do you flap your arms when you’re in the air, though?” He turned abruptly off the highway, not slowing nearly enough before he did so. The tires screamed around the corner and the back end of the car whipped out.

  “Oh God.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please slow down a little. I’m just starting to really like my life. I don’t want to lose it.”

  “I am in complete control.” He took another corner too fast, very nearly hitting a tree with the back end of the car as the whole vehicle slid off the road through the dirt. “I’d expected the car to handle a little better, however. Must be the roads.”

  He slowed just enough to get traction, then we were on our way again, speed limits be damned.

  I cracked an eye open. “I flap my arms because I’m dropping through the air without wings.”

  “You shouldn’t think of arms as wings.”

  “Yes, thank you. That hadn’t dawned on me.”

  “Didn’t it?” He looked my way as we approached a glowing establishment with a large wagon wheel affixed to the outside. Steakhouse, I’d bet.

  “You’re not one for sarcasm, huh?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I took a deep breath when he parked, his car easily the most sporty and upscale vehicle in the lot.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention…” I climbed out of the car and steadied myself. “After dinner, we need to stop by the bar.”

  He waited for me at the back of the car. “The one the bear owns?”

  My heel caught a divot and I wobbled, clutching his arm, my fingers not able to wrap around his forearm, not even close. He stopped and let me regain my footing. “Sorry, heels and gravel do not mix. Austin’s bar. He’s the polar bear, yes.”

  I wasn’t great at reading grunts, but he didn’t seem pleased.

  “He found someone who escaped the attack yesterday,” I said.

  He opened the door for me and waited for me to go in. A little hallway led to a scuffed-up wooden podium, currently unoccupied.

  “Escaped?”

  “Yeah. Apparently there was one more attacker that your guys didn’t grab.”

  “Impossible. We’re very thorough.”

  “He tracked down the guy.”

  “I don’t know who he found, but it couldn’t have been from that battle. My people assured me the threat had been extinguished.”

  “Well…I mean…they weren’t lying. The guy took off, so the threat had been extinguished. It’s just that not all the attackers had been extinguished with it.”

  The host, who would have given Sasquatch a run for his money with his thick beard and shoulder-length hair, showed up at the podium in a black vest with a white shirt layered underneath. He lifted his eyebrows at us.

  “Stavish,” Damarion said, his arm encircling my shoulders possessively.

  The awkward feeling of a stranger being too close crept through me, but I ignored it as the silent host led us to our table. We sat in the back, the table built for two, our menus laid sideways because of their size and the little wagon holding the condiments between us. The host nodded once and walked away.

  “Real chatty, that guy. I kept waiting for him to shut up.” I opened the enormous menu, the words big and spaced far apart just to fill it all up. “This is a man-sized menu, huh?”

  Silence greeted me. A quick peek told me Damarion was still there, his fingers gripping the edge of the menu and the rest of him hidden behind it. He wasn’t much of a joker, clearly. Pity. Hot guys were so much hotter when they had a sense of humor.

  “So…” I hunted for small talk as a strange feeling washed over me. I couldn’t place it, but it persisted. “Do all the guys you came with live in the same town as you?”

  “No. None of them. I arrived with them, but I did not come with them.”

  “Oh, really? How do you know them? Like…how’d you meet up if you didn’t come with them?” Because they’d clearly known one another at least a little.

  I was still trying to tap into that feeling, to pin it down, as it were. Buoyancy was as close as I could get. It made me feel lighter than normal, almost like I might drift into the sky. This couldn’t be normal. Damarion was hot, but he wasn’t hot enough to make me float.

  “We all felt the summons, and I met them on the way.”

  “Mmm. Mhm.”

  My thoughts turned to the attack yesterday. They’d been magical workers. One had gotten away, a mediocre mage, and if he’d escaped, wasn’t it possible a higher-caliber mage might have gotten away too?

  I glanced around at the couples and families, spying nothing out of the ordinary. No one glanced up out of curiosity or from darker intentions. No one within my view was sitting alone.

  In fairness, why would someone who was out to cause me harm or capture me make me feel as light as a feather? What would be the point?

  �
��How’d you meet them, then?” I asked absently, taking in more details of the scene, just to be safe.

  We’d been given a fairly private table, with a wall behind Damarion’s chair, plus a half wall directly to my right. Behind me, four of the five tables were taken, two couples, a group of three with a young girl, and a group of older ladies.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I lowered my enormous menu, thinking about who was on the other side of that wall, when my stomach fluttered and the feeling died away, like getting over nervousness.

  I frowned, pausing. Maybe it had been the adrenaline from the car ride mixed with nervousness. It hadn’t felt threatening, in any case.

  Before I could think further, the waitress approached us, a woman in her mid-twenties wearing the same black vest and white shirt as the host. Lust flashed in her eyes the instant she noticed Damarion.

  Something tight and uncomfortable lodged in my belly, and it wasn’t magic this time. Despite the upgrade to my physical level, I wasn’t nearly as attractive as this girl. And although I was once again flexible in a literal sense, I wasn’t bendable to other people’s whims in the way I’d been at twenty. What would a hot, younger guy like this want with a woman walking through the door of forty?

  Power. Prestige.

  The words floated up from within me, popping like little bubbles in a glass of champagne, but a dark mood had already settled on me. A mood that questioned what, exactly, I thought I was doing showing myself off in a sparkly dress and running around with a man in his prime. It pissed me off that I felt that way—that I bought into the notion that certain things were “improper” for a woman my age, but it was harder to shake off society’s shackles than I would have liked.

  “Did you get a chance to look at our wine list?” the waitress asked, and I belatedly noticed a little booklet tucked between a little cowboy figurine and the half wall. They’d gone a little far with the Wild West theme, truth be told. If Austin had been my dining partner, I would have said so, but I had a feeling Damarion would just grunt or nod.

  “Oh no, I—”

  “We will have a bottle of the Migration Pinot Noir,” Damarion said. “Water, please, as well, no ice.”