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

by K. F. Breene

  That didn’t warrant a comment.

  “I wonder if I could talk him around,” I said, bracing my hands on my hips. “Maybe he just doesn’t understand that I need my second to handle day-to-day issues that involve the whole house. If he knew that, he might be more inclined to treat everyone as a group.”

  “He’d certainly need to welcome non-gargoyles, because you can’t just have gargoyles on your team.”

  “Yes, exactly. He seems a little green—maybe he just needs some training, like I do.” I paused, thinking, then added, “And if he’s more secure in his footing, he may treat the Austin situation like a professional instead of a competition for dominance.”

  “I was with you until that last bit.”

  “It’s worth a try. I don’t have much choice.”

  “But you do have a choice. You can send another summons and see who you get, like fishing. Catch and release. You don’t have to settle for your first couple catches.”

  “Is it too late to quit and choose a different life?”

  “And stay alive and free? Yes, miss. That ship has sailed. You have the magic now, and only death will change that.”

  “I owe it to Damarion to give him a chance. He showed up in the nick of time and saved my life. He’s been taking beatings from me. The least I can do is talk to him. This is all new to him—the town, the people, us. I’m sure we can get him on the right track.”

  “Of course, miss. There’s the spirit. ‘Beating a dead horse’ wouldn’t be a saying if people didn’t love to do it.”

  “That’s not why…” I let it go as I passed him, headed for the kitchen. I’d grab a bottle of wine and invite Damarion to one of the larger sitting rooms for a chat.

  I was in the kitchen, having just opened a bottle of wine, when I felt Damarion approaching the room from down the hall.

  “Hey,” he said, coming up behind me. He slipped his hands across my hips and gently pulled me back until my back was against his front. “I was just coming to do the same thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, coaxing myself to relax within his arms, wanting to just get over this hump of anxiety and let myself be touched by someone new. I knew if I just buckled down and made it through the first time, I’d realize it wasn’t such a big deal. Plus I’d get a little…exercise that I was starting to crave with more urgency lately. I just needed to stop getting nervous and running for the hills.

  “Grab the wine.” He bent and ran his lips along my neck, lifting a hand so he could pull down the edge of my silk housecoat (Mr. Tom had insisted I have one), exposing the spaghetti strap of my singlet. The wet warmth of his kiss left a trail until he got to the strap, then he hooked his fingers underneath it, about ready to pull that down, too.

  In the middle of the kitchen.

  “Let’s…” I slid away a little, hitting the edge of the counter with my hip as I half turned. This would all be so much easier if he didn’t come on so strong. It was like he didn’t have a “warming up” setting. He went from normal guy to Mr. Handsy in one second flat. “How about we—”

  He dropped his finger to my lips. “Shh.” He pulled his finger away and planted a kiss on my lips. “I know what will help you forget about that bear.”

  I paused. “What?”

  He reached around me and took the bottle of wine. “You need me to show you how I feel, right?” He grabbed two glasses. “You need romance?” He gave me a sultry smile. “Give me ten minutes, and then look in on my room. You have the ability to see into any of the rooms, right? Ulric said the house lets you look in on anyone. I’m sure you’ve been using it to check on me…”

  I tried to keep a straight face, but a furrowed brow might’ve broken through. Not only would I not do that because of the creepiness factor, but the thought honestly hadn’t crossed my mind.

  “Give me ten minutes, and then I will show you. You can come to me whenever you want.”

  I let out a held breath and smiled—he’d finally landed on the perfect words. I could go to him. I could choose when and how. Being able to set the pace and apply the brakes sounded really good. Especially as it concerned him. I wondered if he’d consent to just being tied up and letting me work the whole thing out without his digits searching for every available orifice.

  “Yes, that’s right.” His kiss was urgent and needy. “That look in your eyes. I like it. Ten minutes. Come see me.”

  His new approach had certainly derailed my plan to talk to him. But maybe this was a good thing—maybe it would help me overcome whatever was holding me back with him.

  I was standing in the same place, biting my nails, when Mr. Tom drifted in a few minutes later.

  “When you try to talk him into leading the whole group,” he said, “you might give him some romancing pointers.”

  “Why? What do you know?”

  “That he is very bad at it. Clearly he has never had to try with women.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Mr. Tom stopped between the still-ruined island and empty area where the table had once been. “You are standing in the kitchen, by yourself, while he is off…doing whatever he is doing. This is, apparently, his new tactic in romancing you. He reminds me of a great many boys I knew growing up. Knuckle draggers. I’d thought the younger generations would have more of a clue, but… Well, I do not expect a great outcome from this effort.”

  I opened my mouth, intending to make some kind of a rebuttal, I was pretty sure, but nothing came out. I really didn’t know where to go with this. Talking with Mr. Tom about romancing was about as awesome as talking to him about his stuffing condoms all over my room.

  Instead, I just nodded and made my way out, having decided I’d head straight into the secret passageways and take my time getting up to Damarion’s room. When I got there, a minute or so early, I took a deep breath, butterflies fluttering through my belly, and approached the little viewing hole that allowed me to see—and hear—the goings on in most of his room.

  Candlelight flickered within, a great start. The bottle of wine waited on the dresser to the right, the two glasses next to it, their rims shimmering in the glow. His headboard was pushed against the wall opposite me, but the small footboard didn’t obstruct my view.

  In a moment, I wished it had.

  “Yes…”

  My eyes popped wide, and it took me a moment to make sense of what I was seeing.

  Somewhat hairy legs were bent and spread wide, creating an “M” shape on the fluffy white duvet, the middle being thighs and a bare butt. Candlelight flickered off his ripped body, slanted slightly upward because his head rested on a stack of pillows, but there was no way in hell his muscular chest could hold my attention.

  His hand, wrapped around his naked shaft, slowly stroked up and down, timed to his soft moans.

  “Yes, girl.”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t know why, but for some reason—disbelief maybe, horror probably—I could not tear my eyes away from this train wreck.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? This was his response to my need for romance? This was showing me how much he wanted me?

  Okay, sure, logically it was pretty clear that he did, indeed, want me. But really?

  No, it had to be a joke. There was no way he could be serious with this.

  His hand sped up as the other reached down between those spread, hairy thighs and cupped his danglers. I thought maybe he was trying to cover them, because this view of a man had to be, without a doubt, the grossest view possible, maybe second only to if he bent over and showed off his bells and tackle from behind. But no, he was not covering them.

  “Yes, yes…”

  He was massaging them.

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, ew.” I spun around, shocked mute for a moment.

  I stood corrected. That was the worst view—the conclusion.

  I stared at the opposite wall for a moment, the passageways lit by a magical blue glow…and cracked a smile.r />
  Since my start in online dating, I’d gotten my fair share of dick pics, but this was the first time I’d caught a live performance. Dick pic live, coming soon to a peephole near you.

  Laughter bubbled up, overtaking me.

  I had to tell somebody. I couldn’t keep this to myself. If I kept it to myself, it would just be icky and unfortunate. Telling someone meant there was a punch line, even if it was me.

  I hurried away through the passages before emerging into an unoccupied room that looked out over the front yard. Niamh’s lights weren’t on, which meant she was probably at the bar. I hurried back to my room through the passages, not wanting to be seen, and changed quickly before jogging down the hall to Ulric’s room.

  After a couple of light knocks, he opened the door with a “Yup?”

  White sweats hugged his thick thighs and a sports jacket fit his upper body perfectly, even though it was over a bare torso.

  “What the hell is wrong with gargoyles?” I asked, taking a step back.

  He looked down at himself. “Oh, I was just trying on the jacket Mr. Tom ordered for me. What do you think?”

  “Looks good. Get dressed; let’s go to the bar. Bring the jacket.”

  “Your wish is my command, milady.” He left the door open as he hurried to change, and I turned around, just in case I got another show I did not want.

  “What’s the occasion?” Ulric popped back out and closed the door behind him, wearing jeans and a white shirt under the jacket.

  “I need to speak with Niamh.”

  He noticed the phone in my hand, then shrugged and fell in step with me. “Cool. This place gets pretty boring after we finish practicing. We should play some board games or something.”

  “We need to grab another person, probably. Not Mr. Tom. I don’t want him hearing…certain things.”

  “I’m sensing Damarion is a no-go, so what about Jasper?” Ulric asked, pausing in the hallway.

  “Who? Oh, the deep gray one with the brown lines? I don’t think I’ve ever actually spoken to him.”

  “He’s not much of a talker. Damn fine guy, but he can be creepy. How about Cedric? You remember him—you got his friend killed?” He paused with his hand on his chest. “Too soon?”

  Laughter burst out of me, which only made me feel guiltier, but not guilty enough to wipe away my smile. “Cedric is good. Let’s get Cedric.”

  “Least you can do, right? After making him a solo unit?”

  “Oh my God, you have to stop. I feel really bad about that.”

  I knocked quietly on his door, only two doors down from Damarion.

  “In all seriousness, don’t feel bad—”

  I put my finger to my mouth to quiet him.

  “Cedric and that other guy weren’t friends any more than I’m friends with the guys I showed up with,” he said in a softer voice. “If you kill them off, I’ll give you a cookie. I could use a little less competition. Why are we whispering?”

  “I want to let Damarion get his beauty rest.”

  Cedric opened the door, also wearing a sports jacket over a bare torso and the house sweats. His lifted his eyebrows when he saw me.

  “Get dressed,” I whispered. “We’re going out.”

  “Good.” Cedric turned back into the room, and I swiveled around, still worried about getting another peep show.

  “I know, right? It’s boring here,” Ulric said.

  “If you’re so bored, why don’t you go out? You all are clearly horny as hell. Go pick up a girl at the bar.”

  “Well, yeah, but you only go occasionally, and we’re supposed to stay with you, so…”

  “We need to create a schedule,” Cedric said as he came back out. “Picking up a girl sounds good. I’d hoped for some time with the queen, but it seems she has made her choice.”

  “Nope, I haven’t made my choice, but correct, I’m not an option. Grab someone at the bar. That’s your best bet, definitely—damn it.”

  Mr. Tom waited downstairs, already holding out my handbag, and his gaze flicked from Ulric to Cedric. “Ah. I was right, then, and you’re trading up? Yes, probably wise. Both of these men listen to you. They’ll make sure your pleasure is as great as theirs. Just make sure they give you time to enjoy yourself. Two at the same time might be a learning curve. You won’t want to constantly be fiddling with something when you’d rather focus on something else…”

  “Oh my God, Mr. Tom, you have got to stop with all that.” I grabbed my handbag. “It isn’t right. We’re not that kind of friends!”

  “Well…” He smiled at me, his face clearly not used to that formation. “I’m honored that you would think of me as a friend. Wait, miss, I’ll be coming—”

  I shut the door after me, Ulric and Cedric already down the steps, Ulric wearing a smile.

  “I would, though,” he said.

  “What?” I said, distracted. We might need one more person, at least until we hooked up with Niamh and hopefully Austin. Only one mage had come for me yesterday, but there’d been a handful at the first encounter. I wasn’t sure I could handle the embarrassment of Mr. Tom right then, though. What if he kept on about…stuff.

  “I would absolutely make sure your pleasure was as great as mine, and then some. Get a woman where she’s goin’…” Ulric waggled his eyebrows at me. “And she will want to stay for the next ride. Keep a woman happy, and she’ll keep you happy.”

  “Yes,” Cedric said.

  I couldn’t do much more than let out a breath like a leaking tire. Why did my life keep getting weirder?

  Mr. Tom stepped out of the house wearing a sports coat like Ulric, a white T-shirt underneath it, also like Ulric, and a bright green ball cap, not like Ulric or anyone.

  “Ready, miss, thanks for waiting. Here we go.” He put his hands in front of me, urging me to get walking.

  “Nice getup, bro,” Ulric said with a grin.

  “Don’t encourage him.” I nudged Ulric’s shoulder to get him moving and checked to make sure Cedric was following. “We don’t know what waits out there, so let’s keep this speedy. If anything happens, one of you should get me airborne, and the others should fight. Or maybe we should all go airborne? I’m not the best person to come up with our battle-aversion strategy. I wasn’t even good at Battleship.”

  All the humor fled from Ulric as we walked. “Because of my age and stature, I can change in a hurry. I’ll get you in the air if Mr. Tom and Cedric can run interference.”

  “Yes,” Cedric replied.

  “I excel at battle,” Mr. Tom said.

  “Okay, then,” Ulric said, his grin creeping back.

  “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that,” I murmured, peering into the shadows as we walked. The still night allowed for sound to carry, not hindered by the scattering of leaves in the wind or the groaning of branches, but not a sound drifted out of the trees. Houses, pushed back from the street, sat quietly, their lights either dim or dark. The crescent moon hung high in the sky, shedding weak light.

  “Why do you dye your hair the same color as your other form?” I asked quietly, my footsteps the only ones that made a sound.

  “I assume you are talking to me?” Ulric whispered. I couldn’t tell if he was mimicking me, or if he was also on high alert.

  “Mr. Tom’s form is not white-gray, so I am clearly not talking about him.”

  “I used to have lush black hair that was a similar shade to my form, thank you very much,” Mr. Tom said. “I have now given up hope that you will do the right thing and change us all back to the glory of our youth, however.”

  “That ship has sailed, Mr. Tom,” I replied.

  “Wonderful, yes, using my words against me. How fitting,” he said dryly.

  “Oops. Sore subject?” Ulric chuckled. “I thought that was part of the deal, though.” He bent a little as he looked right, the houses having ended and now just wood around us. This was the perfect place for an ambush, and had been used for that in the past. “I read that those wh
o are chosen regain the power of their youth.”

  “The power, yes. We do have the power, and all the wrinkles to go with it,” Mr. Tom grumbled.

  “So it didn’t work in your case?” Ulric asked me.

  “It would have, and I definitely allowed some body upgrades, because why would I pass that up, but…” I shrugged. “I’m me. The world at large is always telling us women that we need to be younger, prettier…but I’m comfortable being me. There is nothing wrong with me. I’ve earned the right to look my age and still get taken seriously.”

  “And if they don’t take you seriously, to hell with ’em.” Ulric pumped a fist. “I like it. Well, if I make the cut, you can age me up if you want, I don’t care. The pink hair is my way of owning who I am, to answer your earlier question.” He gave me a small bow. “I didn’t forget.”

  “Oh, good. We were waiting with bated breath,” Mr. Tom said.

  “I was a boy who grew up when pink was solidly for and worn by girls. Given my other form is pink…I was teased. A lot. Add to that my smaller stature, my chattiness, and my usual good mood, and I stood out about as much as you do in this town.” He laughed when I frowned at him. “When I got older, being teased turned into being bullied. Then being beaten. I was jumped by four big dudes who left me for dead. That was a good time. I had to drag myself back home. I didn’t have many friends, and those I did have wouldn’t dream of sticking up for me and paying the price. Some of those years were pretty rough, but they taught me to accept myself. The only reason those people targeted me was because I didn’t fit into their worldview, which made them insecure. People still react like that sometimes, but I just smile and nod. If it makes them angrier, then I ignore their anger, and if they decide to push the matter? Well, I’ll make them sorry.” He shrugged. “So I dye my hair to let people know that I’m comfortable in my own skin.

  He pulled a face. “An unforeseen development is that it’s become trendy for guys to wear pink. I got complimented for my hair the other day. People probably think I’m wearing my hair like this to be cool rather than celebrating being different.”

  “Oh, you’re different, all right,” Mr. Tom grumbled.