Her heart stuttered. "We have to do something." She couldn't lose him. Not yet.
"I will leave you alone," Isoke said, waddling across the room. "Follow your heart, bembe." He closed the door softly behind him. "This is something you must do on your own."
He'd said Dante was her soul mate.
"Amie," Dante murmured, his lips barely parting.
Not here. Not now. The tears welled in her eyes as she squeezed in next to him. He was cold. She wrapped herself around him, trying to keep him warm. "We have another day," she said, embarrassed at how her voice cracked.
"We don't," he said.
"Dante. Please." There was so much to say and she had no idea where to start. He'd shown her so many things about herself in such a short time. She needed more of him. She needed to know if she was truly meant to be with him. It couldn't end this way. "I don't want you to die."
"That's not enough," he said, on what might have been his last breath.
Her throat constricted. "But I don't want you to leave."
Dante's eyes cracked open, dazed. "That's not enough."
Her tears flowed freely as he closed his eyes once more.
He wasn't moving anymore. He was barely breathing.
He was leaving.
"I love you," she whispered. Heaven help her, she loved him. And it was awful. She already felt the loss, the dread. Amie took his face in her hands and kissed his cold lips, his cheek, his chin. She felt her magic build inside her as she opened herself to him, in honor of him.
Amie touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes, savoring the moment, her last time with him. She focused on the beauty and the happiness she'd found as the magic thrummed through her. Maybe she'd never get it back. Maybe she was a damned crazy fool to feel this way, but she loved him. And she needed him to know.
She needed him to feel the goodness and light and strength he gave to her, just by being with her.
It built so sweet and strong that she wept with it. Her tears fell against his cheeks as she touched her lips to his and released her love magic in one glorious wave.
It poured into him, stunning and whole. The air around them shimmered as pure love glowed between them. She held nothing back. For the first time in her life, she gave everything. She had to think that he felt it, that he understood.
Amie knew she would never be the same.
This magic would never come back and she didn't care. She gave it to him, brilliant and true, because of who he was…how he made her feel. It was the most natural gift she could give. It was her love spun out like silk. She needed him to have it before he died.
Amie laid her head on his cold hard chest, drained, yet more at peace than she'd ever been.
Her heart fluttered as traces of her love magic sizzled between them. Her breath caught. She didn't know exactly what that meant, only that her magic had slowly begun to grow instead of diminish.
The traces weren't flowing to him, but from him and through her and back to him. She could see it like golden cords between them. She raised her head and discovered him watching her. "Dante?" she asked breathlessly.
She was almost afraid to hope, worried it would be snatched away.
He cocked a weak grin. Amie wet her lips. His face had regained some color. He still appeared tired, but…"What's happening?" she asked.
"You love me." She went weak as he reached for her, his arms holding her tight. “You allowed yourself to care, to give. It was all I needed.”
She buried herself against the warmth of his chest. "Yes," she sobbed against him.
"And I love you." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, tasting the salt of her tears.
She felt the power this time, a soul-deep tug as it spiraled through her. It warmed her, fulfilled her and…"Please tell me it's going to be okay."
“It is.” The corner of his mouth tipped up as he looked at her with a love that humbled her. "You saved me, Amie," he whispered. She followed his gaze to the empty place on her bookshelf. His wedding ring had disappeared.
"I can't believe it," she said, and yet she could. For once in her life, she'd been willing to give herself, fully and completely.
She'd been given a second chance.
And so had he.
Her heart squeezed. "You're really going to be fine?"
"More than fine," he said against her lips. His arms slipped around her and he demonstrated exactly how he had recovered.
It was beautiful and intense and—confusing. "Wait. How?"
He drew her back down to him. "Because you were brave enough to love me."
Ten minutes later…
Dante had never met a woman who had mirrors over her bed. Then again, he’d never encountered anyone like Amie.
He drove his feet into the tangled sheets and hissed out a breath as she flicked her tongue over the sensitive spot at the base of his ear, sending goosebumps all over his body. Warmth flooded him.
“That’s it.” He flipped her over onto her back, “I can’t take it anymore.” He ground himself against her, naked, and more ready than he’d ever been.
“What?” she asked. “You’ve waited two hundred years for this and you can’t take another twenty minutes of foreplay?”
“Something like that.” He lifted her and in one swift motion, pinned her against the antique mahogany headboard.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and skimmed her lips against his before drawing him down for an utterly lethal kiss. He felt her power burning between them, hot, wild, and sexy as hell.
Her love magic had sealed the spell that had brought him back. It had healed him, made him fully mortal once again. But more than that, it had given him the woman he loved, one who could—at last—love him back.
And while he had her here…
Amie never imagined feeling this way in her safe, warm bed. Dante was everything she didn’t want—wild, unpredictable, and undeniably hers.
She was about to tell him that when Dante lowered his mouth and began doing spine-tingling things to her neck, her ears, her breasts. Her magic flowed into him, warm and steady, and rocketed back to her, spinning and sparking, catching on the ribbons of pleasure that wound through her until she thought she’d die from the sheer pleasure of it.
At long last, Amie managed to lift her head and croak, “Need to. Tell you.”
She flung her head back. “Dante,” she pleaded as he kissed and nipped his way up her body.
“Yes, dear?” He nuzzled her neck, gasping as she ran her tongue along his ear.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His voice caught. “I know,” he said hoarsely, as he gripped her hips and showed her exactly what she’d gotten herself into.
Meet Amie and Dante again in Night of the Living Demon Slayer, part of the Accidental Demon Slayer series by Angie Fox. The first book in the series, The Accidental Demon Slayer, is free right now on all major e-book retailers.
About Angie Fox
New York Times bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed paranormal mystery and romance. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, and going up stairs when it is dark behind her. Let's face it. Angie wouldn't last five minutes in one of her books.
Angie is best known for her Southern Ghost Hunter series and for her Accidental Demon Slayer books.
www.angiefox.com
Midnight Magic by Ann Gimpel
About Midnight Magic
A Paranormal Romance Novella
Tumble into a menacing vortex where violence—and love--are the only way out.
Despite two powerful parents, the magic gene bypassed Cassie. Too bad because she could use an edge. Her mother, a world-renowned psychic, is stuck behind a supernatural veil. Not dead, but not exactly alive either, she hasn’t spoken in almost a year.
Enter Tyler, a cheap mage with magic of his own. He pretended to love Cassie, but all he wanted was to snatch up her mother’s clients. Cassie�
��s been trying to get him out of her house for months, but he won’t leave. When she upped the ante, he threatened to leverage dark magic against her—and her mother. Cassie’s plenty scared, but she doesn’t want to bother Jeremy, her longtime friend. She’d have to admit what a huge mistake Tyler was, and she’s not ready to face the humiliation.
Jeremy’s loved Cassie forever, but his magical order forbids coupling with mortals. A serious clash with Irichna demons buys him a different answer. He’s known what Tyler is from the beginning, but Cassie ignored his warnings. Fresh from the demon battle, he uses his scrying pool to check on Cassie. What he sees sends him racing to her side. No matter if she returns his love or not, time’s about to run out for her, and he can’t let that happen.
Chapter 1
Cassionetta Ceobbinn sat in her old Subaru and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Her electronic design work had ground to a halt an hour earlier, and a headache pounded dully behind one eye. The garage of the Capitol Hill mansion rose around her, silent as a crypt. Her mother’s Aston Martin sat off to one side, gleaming white against the semi-darkness. Cassie girded herself to open her car door, grab her things, and go inside.
“It’s my house, goddammit,” she muttered to boost her courage. “So what if he texted me not to come home.”
The garage lights flared, blinding her, and the door leading into the house crashed against the wall. Before the ringing in her ears subsided, her live-in boyfriend stomped to her car. Well, the live-in part was still accurate, but the boyfriend part had evaporated like so much smoke.
“You weren’t supposed to come home tonight,” he growled. “I texted you hours ago. You can just turn that piece of shit around and go stay at your mother’s office.”
Fury boiled up from her guts. She took aim and opened the car door hard into his midsection, hoping she could clip a ball for good measure.
“Oomph. You little bitch.” He jumped back rubbing his hip.
You bet I am.
High heels slapping the concrete, she jumped out of her car and stood eyeball to eyeball with him. “This is my mother’s house, Tyler MacKenzie. I live here. Or have you forgotten?” Cassie yanked her shoulder bag and computer case off the passenger side of the front seat and stormed past him.
He grabbed her arm before she made the steps leading into the kitchen. “I have people over. It’s the full moon before the Winter Solstice. I’m leading a séance. Your presence will disturb the energy.”
She twirled to face him, breaking his grip. “You mean you have Mother’s clients over. Where is she, by the way?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her.”
Cassie turned away from him. He closed his hand over her arm again, hard enough to make her squeal. “If you don’t let me go,” she snarled through clenched teeth, “I will call the police.”
He loosened his fingers marginally. “But, sweetie…”
She heard compulsion beneath his words. Cassie didn’t have any magic of her own, but she recognized it in others. When Tyler wanted her to fall in love with him, he’d used honeyed words all the time, but they stopped once she let him move in.
“Can it.” She twisted her head so she could lock gazes with him. “Let me go. Now.” His hand fell away. “I want you out of here tomorrow—”
He narrowed his eyes and shoved long, red-gold hair behind his shoulders. A face she’d once thought handsome twisted into a sneer. “Fat fucking chance of that. We’ve had this conversation one too many times for my liking. I’m here, and I intend to stay. There’s nothing you can do about it. Unless you want to meet with an unfortunate accident.” A nasty laugh bubbled past his lips, followed by “Something unusual could happen anyway. If I were you, sweetie, I’d watch my back.”
Cassie shuddered. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry. Maybe she’d underestimated Tyler. Once they stopped getting along, she’d viewed him as an inconvenience, not a menace. He’d never sounded quite like this before, though. There’d been threats, but they’d been subtle, veiled in double entendre.
She straightened her shoulders and squared off, facing him. It was the kiss of death to let bullies know they were getting to you. “I’m done with your crap.” She infused as much venom as she could into her voice. “I will call the police. You threatened me.”
He snorted. “I’d just deny it. They’ll believe we had a lover’s spat. Women are so emotional.” His blue eyes gleamed with an unnatural light.
She blinked. For a moment, he looked like a demon one of her mother’s psychic friends had raised by accident. Cassie knew enough about them—interdimensional beings that traveled from world to world wreaking havoc—to scare the shit out of her.
Don’t be ridiculous. Ridiculous, ridiculous echoed in her head. I’m seeing things.
Her heartbeat pounded loud in her ears, and she fisted her hands at her sides. “You’d better get back to your séance. Wouldn’t want any of those high rollers to get away.”
A grimace crossed his finely chiseled features before he spun on his heel and trotted smartly into the house. Tyler cut an elegant figure with his richly-embroidered gypsy cape, broad shoulders, and handsome, Nordic bone structure. Flowing ruby silk pants rode low on his slim hips. No wonder she’d been taken in by him.
Fuming—and scared shitless—she followed him into the house, but turned hard left before she hit the kitchen and took what had once been the servants’ staircase. It had been stupid to fall for Tyler, one of the dumbest things she’d ever done, but there was no going back. She couldn’t unravel time and choose not to tumble into his arms and his bed. That part was a done deal. If she listened to him, his residency at chéz Eleanora was a done deal as well.
Shit!
Worry for her mother filled her, obliterating her fears for her own safety. Eleanora Ceobbinn was—or had been—a well-known psychic, but she’d apparently made one too many trips to the far side of the veil. She was still alive, but she hadn’t spoken a word in nearly a year, rattling around their old house like a ghost.
Eleanora came from money—and made plenty on her own—so at least that wasn’t a problem, but her mother was definitely fading. It was almost as if someone—Tyler?—was feeding off what little energy she had left. Unable to shake her earlier sense of foreboding, Cassie shivered. If she hadn’t been holding onto her purse and computer bag, she would’ve wrapped her arms around herself.
Maybe because she was thinking about her mother—and the house had a mind of its own—she wasn’t surprised to find herself beneath a full-sized oil painting of Eleanora. Lush dark hair ended at knee level, and her haunting violet eyes seemed alive. People had told Cassie she looked like her mom, but she’d never thought so. Eleanora was beautiful—and ageless. Cassie had the hair and the eyes and the striking six foot height, but the effect wasn’t nearly the same.
She still had no idea what went wrong the day her mother checked out. She’d come home from work to find Eleanora sprawled face down on the Oriental carpet in the séance room, candles smoking black gouts of greasy flame. If there’d been clients, they were nowhere to be found. It was the same time of year. Late December. Right before Christmas. There’d been no Christmas for Cassie last year, and it didn’t appear this year would be any different.
“Oh, who gives a fuck?” she muttered, still staring at Eleanora’s likeness. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Except Cassie knew better. Despite her brave words, she gave lots of fucks. The Winter Solstice with her mother had always been a special time, filled with love and miracles. Last year, the solstice had barely been a blip on Cassie’s radar screen. Eleanora regained consciousness within a few hours, but that was about all. Cassie hustled her to a clinic, but the doctor hadn’t helped. Worse, he’d become mired in disbelief once he found out what Eleanora did for a living. The next two doctors were more of the same, so Cassie ditched that approach.
By then, she’d figured out that something magical had gone wrong. Western medicine
couldn’t fix it.
Cassie dragged herself away from the portrait. When she was a little girl, she’d believed her mother’s painted eyes held the gateway to a magical world. When she asked Eleanora if the painting led to fairyland, her mother gifted her with a warm smile and said, “Stranger things have happened, child. It’s best not to test this one.”
Cassie pulled a key out of her bag, unlocked her bedroom door, and then used the voice activated electronics she’d designed to spring the second lock. She was almost positive Tyler was stealing from her, but that wasn’t why she kept her door locked. Even the marginally gifted could wreak havoc if they got hold of your things. Her father, Francis Statton Braxbury, a British seer, had taught her that before his visits to Eleanora petered out.
Cassie locked the door behind her and tossed her things onto a chair. She kicked off her high heels and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her sore arches. This thing with Tyler had spiraled out of control.
He fell into her life right before her mother’s accident. He’d been an ardent lover, and ever so solicitous about her mother. Cassie was pathetically grateful she wasn’t alone dealing with Eleanora. Couple that with being lost in the first flush of sex with a new man, and she wasn’t as on top of things as usual. By the time she realized it was a shade too convenient Tyler was in the right place at the right time to snap up all her mother’s clients, he’d moved in.
That was almost a year ago. Tyler dropped any pretense of a relationship with her after the first few months, but he’d been marginally friendly—even polite—until recently. She shook her head, trying to figure out what had changed. It was useful to have him help watch Eleanora, which was why she hadn’t tried harder to get rid of him.
Most of her non-Eleanora time was devoted to developing an electronic version of the Ouija Board because she hoped it would be a way to reach her mother. Usually her circuitry was spot on, but for some reason this project had dragged for months, dogged by one setback after another. Everything she’d learned getting her degree in electrical engineering didn’t seem to apply to her current project. She was still stuck on the basic circuit board strategy. Until that was successful, there wasn’t much point in designing software or hunting for a microprocessor.
Alphas for the Holidays Page 79