Twisted Luck

by Mia Downing

  My mom sighed as she stared at me with love, affection, and a touch of exasperation. “You are practical.”

  “Exactly.” Somehow, I had to toss her a little bone to keep Samuel happy. “But I really like him, Mom. Enough to consider a roommate position. And maybe a little more.”

  That perked her right up. She sat a little taller in her chair. “So maybe…”

  “Cart before the horse,” I warned, letting all the wariness show. “But maybe having the horse underfoot will lead to…fondness.”

  My mother laughed at that. “I hope he fixes your wagon, honey.”

  “Mother!” I blushed hot to the roots of my hair. Little did she know he’d fixed that wagon, had painted it hooker red, and now owned all of the paperwork.

  She patted my hand and smiled a devious smile. But ever the peace-keeper, she handed me another brochure. “Let’s consider flowers for the reception. I have…”

  More time passed, and we’d made great headway on the reception that would never take place. The sunlight shifted in the windows, marking the passage of time with long shadows and a breeze that picked up off the Sound, fluttering curtains.

  Finally, Mom glanced at the stove clock and blinked with surprise. “My, it’s late.”

  “It is.” I shuffled my papers and gathered them up in a neat bundle.

  “One last thing.”

  I glanced up. The pensive frown meant I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. I gripped my coffee cup to brace myself as I cocked my head in an exaggerated show of interest.

  She shifted in her chair, a little uneasy. “Samuel wants me to add in something really sweet and special to the wedding ceremony. It’s a tradition his family has observed for eons where he’s from.” She waved a hand, indicating the direction of Europe.

  “Oh?” Dread bubbled up, and I hid it by sipping from my mug.

  “He wants to have a…little ceremony. With blood. Like soul mates.”

  I spit coffee across the table, all over the half-eaten cakes and my Costa Rican bundle and envelope. I’d expected him to get blood somehow. A paper cut. An accident. A herd of hungry mosquitoes. Definitely not in a ceremony at during the wedding.

  “What?” I finally choked out.

  “Liv, dear, calm down.” She tossed me napkins, and I automatically wiped the mess despite the growing horror. “We’re talking just a pinprick. Then we hold hands and let that blood mix. Didn’t you do that with Amy Ferraro when you were a kid? Become blood sisters?”

  “You weren’t supposed to know about that,” I sputtered, trying to keep the shock from numbing me to the point of incoherent speech. I tossed the damp napkins to the side. “And blood at a wedding is gross.”

  “It’s romantic,” she countered with a frown. “And it’s his family’s tradition.”

  “Did you do any research on this? What if it’s…pagan stuff.” I didn’t dare say satanic.

  She lifted her chin. “I have, and it’s common in for Wiccans, Celts, and other religions. He did admit to having a pagan streak.”

  “You’re a Baptist,” I reminded her gently, trying to find something—anything—to stop this train wreck. “I would see if you can opt out of the blood stuff.” So you don’t end up signing a contract you don’t want to pay. Like me.

  My mother sat a little taller and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “It’s not like you to judge, Olivia.”

  “Me?” I placed a hand on my pounding heart, threatening to break right through my ribs. “I’m the most open-minded person around, and you know that.”

  Mom got that look on her face, the one with the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips, the furrowed brow. Her index finger tapped an impatient beat on the table. “This is the one thing he’s asked for during this wedding, and I feel I should honor it.”

  Of course, he’d play that card. I fought rolling my eyes. “What about fake blood?”

  “Liv.” She frowned and the tapping stopped. “Do you want to make my special day end up a misery?”

  I sighed. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then I’m not asking your opinion. I’m telling you we are adding this to our ceremony.”

  “Okay.” I sighed in defeat and rubbed my brow, the stress of it all suddenly too much for me to bear.

  My conservative, cautious mother had just tossed all sanity to the wind and jumped from the proverbial plane with no parachute as I watched in horror. The magic had to have crept into her brain and turned it all to mush where Samuel was concerned. I had no other explanation.

  “Are you okay?” My mom’s voice dropped the anger and concern filtered in. “Honey, this will be okay. I promise. Samuel assured me it’s a tasteful ceremony, and I—”

  “Mom.” Bile churned in my stomach as the stress grew to T-Rex proportions under my skin, making me feel ready to burst at the seams. My hands needed something, so I grabbed a dry napkin from the pile and shredded a corner. “Do you believe in Hell? Demons?”

  “What?” My mother blinked a few times. “Well, they preached about it in church when I was a young girl, but I’m sure some of that was to make sure the sinners stayed on the righteous path. It’s probably the only way some would show up on Sunday.”

  “But do you believe?” My heart pounded at Mach five. This was it. I couldn’t lie anymore. I was going to just dump it all on her and sort it out somehow.

  “Why on Earth would you ask me this?”

  I closed my eyes and willed the luck to help me. I needed her to believe me more than I needed to win some lotto ticket or trip. I needed her on my side now more than ever. I opened my eyes and drew a deep, calming breath that did nothing. “I’m sorry, but I think Samuel—”

  “What about me?” Samuel wandered into my mother’s kitchen, change jingling. The expensive black suit and deep-red power tie fit him to a demonic tee.

  My heart skipped a beat with each measured footfall of his expensive shoes. That million-watt smile of his melted every molecule of bravery I’d ever possessed.

  “Samuel!” Mom jumped to her feet and rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “What an unexpected surprise.”

  “You know I love to surprise you. I hope it’s okay I let myself in.” His dark, glittering eyes took me in, the change jingling a different tune as he arched a brow. “You girls could get into too much trouble without someone to pop in to supervise now and then.”

  So busted. Where the hell was luck when I needed it? I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I shredded my paper napkin faster.

  Samuel took the seat next to my mother’s, his hand sliding into hers. “So what were you about to tell your mother about me?”

  “I—” I gulped again, my gaze flicking between my mother’s expectant expression and Samuel’s eyes, narrowed in warning. My brain bounced from lie to lie at a zillion miles an hour. Neither would buy a brush-off at this point.

  I swallowed and somehow found the confidence to speak. “Mom. I think this blood ceremony bridges on dangerous, satanic territory. I think you should say no.”

  Samuel’s brows shot up in surprise.

  My mother’s eyes narrowed as she pursed her pink lips. “I told you there would be no further discussion on this point. Samuel has requested very little from me.”

  Her cell phone rang, and she grabbed it, inspecting the display. “I need to take this. Will you both excuse me for a minute? I won’t be long.” She pointed at me as she stood. “You can apologize to Samuel while I’m gone.”

  “We’ll work it out,” Samuel murmured to my mother, rising slightly as she left the room, ever the gentleman.

  “Jillian. I’m so glad you called.” Mom’s voice faded as the click of her shoes retreated down the hall.

  Oh, shit. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I faced Satan himself.

  Samuel adjusted his cuffs. He sat, and those dark eyes turned almost black as he leaned on his elbows across the table. “Tell her the truth about me or Leo, and those words will be the last thing either of you ever h
ear. Do you understand?”

  So much for being a gentleman. Because I had no other choice, I slowly nodded. “Yes.”

  “By now, your do-gooder brain must be riddled with guilt. I want you to absolve yourself and instead focus on how to make this wedding memorable.” Those long fingers picked up the knife we’d used to cut samples from the little cakes, spinning it with skillful dexterity.

  Mesmerized by the knife’s spinning, I licked my lips, barely able to breathe.

  “You’re difficult, Olivia, so I’m giving you one pass for this transgression. After this…” The knife stopped.

  I swallowed loudly, my gaze finding his.

  He shrugged, that cold smile lighting his eyes at the thought of causing me bodily harm. The knife flashed as he stabbed one of the little wedding cakes with brutal force.

  I jumped.

  “Do you understand?”

  If I’d had any hope before, it now plummeted, crashed, and burned like a kite in a downdraft over a volcano. I stared at that knife, the red jelly insides oozing out of the little cake into a puddle. “Yes.”

  “Good. Because you won’t get another warning.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Leo finally showed up at six. The key rattled in the door, accompanied by some original, humanly swears muttered under his breath. Loudly. The door banged open and shut, and he tromped down the hall to the kitchen and back again to find me in the bedroom.

  “There you are,” he grumbled. “You could have told me where you were.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” I lied as I folded a towel.

  I’d been home for a few minutes after visiting with my mom, and my hands still shook from Samuel’s warning. Folding things gave my mind and hands a human task, the mundane nature of it enough to remind me I was still alive and there was hope. Maybe.

  “Lying doesn’t become you.” His change jingled.

  Today, he wore a dark brown suit that matched his eyes and brought out some dark red highlights in hair that I had assumed was all jet black. I’d always thought brown suits to be ugly, but his was deep, dark chocolate and fit him like a glove, accentuating all that lean, hard muscle. His gold tie sported brown and blue dots and stripes.

  “So what did you do to the magic this time?” he demanded.

  “Say what?” I arched a brow as I hid a pair of my panties under a stack of my clothes. I don’t know why the idea of him seeing my clean panties made me shy, but it did.

  “The magic deposited me here, on your doorstep, exactly at six. I wasn’t done with my meeting. I tried returning and no dice. I’m stuck here.” He cocked his head and scowled. “So what did you do?”

  “Nothing that I can— Oh.” Crap.

  He wagged a finger at me. “Ah ha. This is your fault.”

  Double crap for slipping up, too.

  “All I did was mention to my mother that I was concerned you wouldn’t make it here on time to bring me to dinner.” Which was a little lie. My discussion with Annie probably had more to do with this turn of events. I hated the luck at this point. The stress of it made me perspire.

  He squinted at me. “You didn’t need to worry about my whereabouts. I would have been at the restaurant.”

  “Yes, and if you’re my roommate with potential boyfriend status, eventually you need to be seen coming and going with me to events. You can’t just come here, fuck me, and leave.” I snapped a towel, more to relieve frustration than to remove the wrinkles. I needed to take control of this situation somehow, or I was going to spontaneously combust from the stress. “In fact, we need to discuss a few more ground rules.”

  The change jingling stopped, and his scowl darkened. “This isn’t a true romance, and I’m not your roommate. It’s for show, remember?”

  “And I recall you saying something to the effect that you’d humor my special requests and any magical limitations levied. My mother needs to see you present and accounted for.” These damned Weston men! I wanted so badly to snap a towel at his tight ass.

  He pointed at me again. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop it.”

  “I’m thinking this.” I took a step to the side and cracked the towel in my hand, catching him in the curve of his buttock.

  He jumped, yelped, and my evil bubble of joy burst when he tackled me into the middle of my laundry pile. I struggled, only to be pinned by firm thighs and that strong chest of his, his tie dangling in my mouth. He held my hands over my head, wrenching the towel from them.

  I sputtered around the gold material, and he graciously moved it with one hand but pinned me harder. My breathing came in pants, my adrenaline already surging from Samuel’s words.

  The stress and confusion swirled as he stared down at me, his scowl softening as his gaze searched mine, flickering to my parted lips. I licked the dry bottom one.

  He groaned, leaned in, and kissed me.

  That kiss chased away my anger, his tongue darting to tangle with mine. All tension left my body, and I sagged into the mattress, returning his kiss stroke for stroke. My heart sped up in a different way, one that catered to the need twisting through my blood. Letting go of my hands, he sank his in my hair, angling my face to gain more access to my mouth. His erection grew hard and insistent against my crotch, and I couldn’t help but arch against it, suddenly needing him inside me.

  Finally, he let me up for air, his own breath coming in short pants. “We don’t need rules.”

  Panting, I blinked, trying to focus on his words. When I understood, anger returned. The bastard had used lust against me. In fact, he continued his strategic onslaught by rubbing his erection against my sex, the clothing between us amping up the friction and the need.

  I swallowed and tried hard to ignore him.

  “Oh, yes, rules. I’m not giving up on this.” I set my jaw as I stared up at him sternly. “My mother is never going to believe we’re romantically inclined if we don’t spend time together. So I propose this—” I slapped his shoulder. “Quit rubbing that thing against me.”

  “My cock wants you, Olivia.” He pressed against me just enough to stir the desire to a boiling point. “We have just enough time—”

  “No!” I shoved his shoulders, and he rolled from me.

  Surprised, I scrambled up and took advantage, straddling him. Now I held him down, though from the smirk on his fine lips, he didn’t feel very threatened.

  I poked him in the middle of his chest. “Every night, you’ll be home promptly at six, and you’ll stay until eleven. If Samuel insists you need to work, you can go then.” I had no clue what would happen on the weekend, but we’d cross that bridge when we got to it.

  “Six to eleven?” He looked pained. “I mean, I can last that long, but I don’t think you can.”

  My cheeks heated in embarrassment. “We’re not going to having sex for five hours!”

  His pain grew into horror. “Then what will we do?”

  Though I’d felt the same way when Annie had mentioned it, his reaction stung. “Eat. Talk. We need to come up with some common ground story to tell my mother at these dinner things Samuel insists we have.” So blame him, buddy. “What does he do with my mother? Because you said they’re not having sex.”

  “I have no clue.” He glared up at me. “I’ll talk to Samuel about this at dinner, once we have our story set.”

  “Don’t involve him. Just figure it out.” Just as I climbed off his hard body, his stomach growled.

  “Olivia.” He grabbed my arm with alarm. “I can’t be hungry.”

  “Of course you can.” I yanked away. “Good thing we’re heading to dinner in a few minutes.”

  He scrambled off the bed, that look of horror encompassing every line in his face. “The magic cares for all of my needs. You know this. If I’m hungry, that means the magic is gone.”

  “The magic is gone?” This was too good to be true. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I just tried to speak to Samuel. I hear only silence.” His stomach growled aga
in, and he stared at his abdominal region with loathing. “Ask it to return, Olivia. Right now.”

  Okay, maybe not so good to be true. I ran a hand through my hair. “Dear good luck, return Leo’s magic.”

  Leo closed his eyes. His stomach growled again, louder. His eyes flew wide open as he stared at me. And I thought he’d been horrified before.

  “Nothing.”

  “Maybe the magic will return at eleven.” I could only hope.

  “And what if it doesn’t?” he whispered like a lost child. “I’ve never been without it.”

  “I doubt you’re totally without magic. You’re a demon, not human.” But I wasn’t so sure, and I didn’t want to blow the poor guy’s mind if it were true.

  “What am I going to tell Samuel?” His agitated voice also held a note of desperation that wrung my heart.

  God help me, I didn’t want to feel sorry for Leo, but I wouldn’t want to face Samuel, either. His stomach growled louder, and my deep-seated need to fix things, to take care of things, surged into protection mode. I couldn’t imagine having to tell Samuel I’d won the lotto, never mind that I was no longer whole in his eyes.

  I took two steps forward, straightened Leo’s tie, and smoothed his lapel. “You’ll tell him it’s my fault and probably temporary.”

  He cocked his head as if trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. “That’s a lot of blame for one human.”

  “One very difficult human,” I corrected. His stomach rumbled again, and I patted his chest. “Go find something to eat in the kitchen while I get dressed. I should have charged you rent to cover food.”

  As his footsteps retreated down the hall, I tossed on a dress, impressed at the strength of my luck. I was also a little worried despite the good luck still seeming to be on my side, breaking down the magic just when I needed it to happen.

  Worried because…well, magic or no magic, Leo was still a demon. God only knew where this train from Hell would derail from the tracks. And I’d have to face Samuel’s firing squad for it.

  “Olivia,” Leo bellowed. “What in great woodchucks is this green stuff?”

  I sighed. “Coming.”