by Tate James
“Night, Sugar Tits,” Reg said, putting his hand on my head. I closed my eyes, expecting to be barraged by awful memories or new fears … but instead, as soon as my lids slid shut, I was fucking out.
I woke up to a hard dick in my face and almost completely lost my shit.
But then I remembered that I was now ‘married’ to four different dudes. Hell, it was going to be like living on a farm—waking up to a cock each and every sunrise.
I sat up and glanced down to find Reg tangled up in the sheets, completely nude. He was also snoring. Scooting away from him, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and then started digging through dresser drawers, looking for clothes to borrow. I settled on a pair of boxer shorts with frigging Pokemon on them (what was with all the goddamn Pokemon?) and an oversized black t-shirt.
Now … to find my purse.
For the life of me I couldn’t remember where I’d left it, but I felt almost desperate to call Britt and update her not only on the supernatural situation, the bio parent thing, and the sex … but also Warden. She was the only one who’d truly understand what I was going through.
“Hey,” I said, moving back over to Reg and poking him in the cheek. “Wake up. I need to borrow your phone.”
“Nightstand,” he grumbled, swatting at me and then turning over, further tangling the sheets around his legs. I grabbed the cell lying there and turned it on, surprised to see that no passcode was required to get in. Huh.
After I called Britt, I was going to have to get nosy and go through all his pictures, just to see what he’d gotten up to before meeting me. I mean, not that I cared. Because I didn’t. Seriously.
Dialing Britt’s number by heart (it was the only one in the world I had memorized), I waited not-so-patiently for her to answer.
“Girl, you would not believe the size of this man’s dick,” was how my best friend answered the phone.
“Britt,” I started, but she wasn’t done. I was just going to have to let this nightmare run its course.
“I’d say at least nine inches, and then there’s girth. I mean, and he knows how to actually use it. Do you have any idea how rare that is?” That was a rhetorical question that I didn’t bother to answer. “Anyway, have you ever met a man who could go, like, ten times in one night? That’s the thing about humans—they always finish too quick. That’s why I like to stick to my own kind. No other dude has as much stamina as a werewolf—”
“Britt!” I said, when I’d had about enough. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, snapping into one of her very rare bouts of seriousness. That was the thing about Britt—usually a slutty weirdo, but definitely a ride or die bitch when required. “What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath and explained the situation to her, leaving the part about Max/Warden for last.
“Holy mothershitting balls,” Britt whispered, exhaling against the phone and giving me goose bumps. The surprise in her voice was just a distant shimmer of the overwhelming shock flowing through mine. Of all the men in this world, Max had to be one of these fuckers, an elemental, some destined, like, soul mate thing of mine.
Figures.
“This is pretty much the greatest love story since … like Titanic or whatever.”
“You hated Titanic,” I told her and her clothes rustled as she shrugged. “This isn’t a love story, Britt. It’s …” I glanced over my shoulder at Reg, still fast asleep and snoring. “It’s like a Stephen King novel—rotting undead dragons, a polygamist bad guy who also happens to be my biological father, and the only man I’ve ever loved, a man that I abandoned, reentering my life at the craziest possible moment? I really do need to get out of the city for a bit, stay with Siobhan.”
“Ugh, I hate her though,” Britt whined as I pursed my lips. It sucked, but my two besties in the whole wide world couldn’t stand each other.
“I just need a second to think, Britt. I haven’t even gotten a second.”
“You’ll take those boys with you though?” she asked, sounding unusually concerned. Usually Britt didn’t worry over much except broken nails and bad dye jobs.
I sighed and rubbed at my temple with two fingers.
“Yeah, I’ll take them with me, I promise,” I said, and then wondered if I was going to end up regretting that.
Surprisingly, I thought I was going to have to drag the guys to NYC with me, but instead, they seemed to think it was a good idea to put some space between us and kuntemopharn while we tried to figure out a plan.
Before we went anywhere though, I needed this glamour that George had mentioned. The runes looked strange enough on their own, like I'd gone and got a whole body tattoo, but there was just no way to explain them sparkling and glowing every freaking time I got turned on. Which lately, felt like every five minutes.
“This shop is legit?” I muttered quietly to Reg as he held open the door for me to walk through. We'd stopped at the local Wicca store in town—the same one that Reg and Shane had purchased all of the equipment for our bonding ceremony from. I'd been wondering what the hell had happened to that damn cup …
“Don't let the tourist crap fool you, Sugar Tits,” Reg chuckled, following me inside with a hand on my lower back. Yep, there went those damn runes again. Fuck me, I looked like one of the vampires out of Twilight. This glamour could not come soon enough.
I glanced around the shop, taking in the purple walls and glossy black trim, the tables covered in crystals and the walls of old books. The air was perfumed with a sweet and smoky mix of incense, ancient paper, fresh ink, and herbs, jars of which were lined up on shelves next to the register.
“Ah, I see your bonding ceremony was a success, then?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter nodded as we approached her. She had curly red hair and green eyes that seemed to take in my entire essence with a single once-over. This woman was a witch? Like, a real witch? And Gram was one, too? Fuck me running … “I guess congratulations are in order? Reginald, your father must so happy for you boys.”
“You know how Charlie is, Anita. Never happy with anything these days,” Reg said with a smirking half-smile, but one with enough warmth that suggested they were old friends. Maybe she'd needed a bathroom remodel at some point?
If I found out he'd fucked her though … I might cut a bitch.
“Now, what can I do for you boys today?” She eyed up my husbands with affection and I snorted at her calling them boys. The sheer fact that I was wearing their permanent reminders of our orgy proved to me they were men.
“We need a glamour for Arizona,” Shane responded with a wide smile. “She's having trouble controlling her magic.”
The woman, Anita, raised her eyebrows at me then dropped a saucy wink. “I don't blame you, girl,” she chuckled, “come on through to the back then. One glamour, coming right up. I trust you brought the chalice and athame back?”
A small cat sneaked out from behind the counter, rubbed itself against a display of tarot cards before it glared up at me with bright yellow eyes. It took me a second to realize it had a headless rat corpse clutched in its jaws.
Heh. How very precious …
“We did,” Billy replied, producing the ornate silver items from the paper bag he carried. I vaguely remembered them bringing both out during our marking ceremony, and saying something about me filling it?
Gross.
Musta been a metaphorical fill because all those other, uh, by-products of our orgy had gone either in the toilet or down the shower drain …
Anita must've caught my confused look because she smiled patiently at me and explained.
“The chalice was used during your marking ceremony as a symbolic capture for all the excess magic in the room. A ritual as powerful as the marking of an elemental leaves a huge excess in the air, which is able to be stored and repurposed in a chalice such as this.” She held out her hand and Billy passed her the seemingly empty cup. “As well as in the blade of the athame. They're both sy
mbols for the feminine and masculine aspects in nature.”
The woman raised a red eyebrow at me, ignoring the cat as she crouched down and started crunching bone.
“Now, I just need a few special ingredients and I can get started …” Anita trailed off and glanced over at Billy; he nodded, giving me a sympathetic look. Immediately, I felt my guard go up. That feeling was, of course, slightly softened by the fact that the man smelled like a campfire and wore a leather jacket over his broad shoulders.
“Hand, please, Firebug,” he told me, lifting up the athame and wiggling it slightly. Light from a few nearby candles reflected off the blade as my runes flickered and then promptly snuffed them all out. Oops. But it was better than indoor lightning strikes, right? “We just need a little bit of blood.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, holding my hand against my chest and resisting the urge to take a step back. It was either this or miss out on going to see any future Magic Mike sequels in theaters with Britt. I looked down at the black cat again and felt my stomach flip-flop at the tiny smatters of blood on the old floor, the rat's tail lying in the center of it all. The rest of its body was now gone.
“You can do this, Arizona,” George said softly, coming up behind me as Reg moved his hand away from my back. The earth elemental wrapped his arms around my waist and held me in a jasmine scented hug. Since this particular store was one of a few without a No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service sign, he'd taken advantage and gone clothing free up top.
I leaned into his muscular midsection with a small sigh.
“Just do it,” I said as my runes went wild and put on a small light show. I noticed Anita discreetly moving over to flick the lock on the front door and flip the sign to Closed.
I held my hand out and shivered when Billy's warm fingers brushed against my skin, the few flame tattoos on his skin seeming to dance in the flickering light of my runes. He rubbed a soothing thumb over my palm, pressed a hot kiss against it, and then stabbed me with the fucking knife.
“I've got you,” George whispered against my ear, and I swear, I could feel the earth beneath my feet, even through the wooden floor of the shop. It was like I was suddenly surrounded by sweet, natural growing things—such as the hard pipe wrench stabbing me in the back. Guess just like I couldn't help the runes, he couldn't help his equipment, huh?
Billy slid the sharp end of the athame into the tip of my middle finger, drawing crimson beads to the surface of my skin. Normally, I was a fan of getting penetrated, but not so much like this. I scrunched my face up as Anita held the chalice out and Billy massaged several fat drips into it.
It was over in an instant and then the asshole fire elemental was sliding my finger into his mouth and sucking on it.
“Asshole,” I said as George pressed a kiss on the side of my neck and released me. I pretended not to like either of those things, but the runes said otherwise. I was so ready for this fucking glamour.
The boys each took a turn, letting Billy prick them and add more blood to the chalice. Brave fucker that he was, he did his own hand himself and then wiped the blade off on his jeans before folding it back into the paper bag.
“Thank you, dears,” Anita said, bending low, her black dress fluttering as she patted the cat on the head and then … snatched the rat tail from the floor. I watched in horror as she plunked it into the cup and gestured for us to follow her through a beaded curtain behind the register.
Hopefully this glamour wasn't supposed to be taken orally or worse—as a fucking suppository. Like, as much as I didn't want to put rat tail lotion on my skin, that's sort of what I was praying for at this point.
Anita took us into a dimly lit back room as I sucked on my smarting fingertip and wished it was still in Billy's hot mouth. Now this is what I had imagined a witch's lair to look like. All manner of things hung from the ceiling, including parts of animals and various plants, and in the little kitchenette there was an honest-to-god cauldron bubbling away on the electric stove top.
Anita hummed to herself as she rifled through cupboards and drawers, grabbing jars of things, and throwing pinches into the cup before picking the boiling cauldron up by the handle and pouring its steaming contents into the chalice.
“What is that?” I whispered to the guys, but the witch heard me anyway.
“This, dear?” she clarified, holding up the cauldron, and I nodded. “Hot water.”
“Oh.”
Well, didn't I feel silly now?
“Here you go!” she announced, holding out the chalice to me. I accepted it warily because, you know, there was a rat tail floating on the surface. That, and the liquid inside was a slimy green sort of color that smelled utterly putrid.
This was so not a fucking lotion.
“You'll need to drink it,” Reg smirked, obviously seeing my look of revulsion.
“All of it, sweetie.” Anita smiled and nodded encouragingly, her crescent moon earrings dangling with the motion. The cat padded into the room to join us and sat there with a you can thank me later look on her snotty face. I had to resist the urge to stick out my tongue. I was, like, totally a grown woman who didn't do that shit anymore.
Well, at least not very often.
Ugh, this was so gross, but surely it had to be better than walking around looking like Edward freaking Cullen? I took a deep breath and brought the cup to my mouth, ready to neck it back like how Britt and I drink Adios Motherfuckers at nightclubs.
“Wait!” Anita yelped, snatching the cup back out of my hand. “Sorry, forgot to activate it.” She laughed like that was a hilarious little oops on her part. “Wouldn't want you to have to drink it twice.”
I glared daggers as Anita waved her hand in an elaborate gesture, muttering something in Latin, or French, or Russian … I don't know. I was a barista, not a linguist.
“You've never fucked her, right?” I asked the boys and got a long moment of silence in response. Turning to glare at them over my shoulders, I saw several looks of revulsion on their faces.
“Dude, she's like ancient,” Reg said with a shutter, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “You should see her without her glamour on—not pretty. Probably why she forgot to activate the glamour—Anita's gettin' a little senile in her golden years. I think she's like, three hundred and eight or some shit.”
My eyebrows went up and I had to wonder, how old exactly was Gram when she died then? Clearly she hadn't been using a glamour herself, what with the wrinkles and all.
I glanced back at Anita and found purple flames shooting up from the liquid. It was like bananas foster up in here or something. They flared bright for a moment and then died away before the happy witch passed the chalice back to me with a sigh.
“That was a close one! All done now, though. Bottoms up!”
I put the cup to my lips, closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at its contents, and tossed it back like a badass bitch.
Britt would've been proud.
Well, at least she would have before I dropped the metal cup to the floor and swooned into the arms of the boys, my consciousness flickering for several seconds as a wave of raw energy rolled over me like a storm.
When I came to, the damn cat was in my lap and the boys were fanned out all around. Well, three of them were. I was currently sitting in Shane's lap, his massive dip-tube poking me in the ass. As a wave of hormones hit me like a tsunami, I noticed that my runes were not presently flaring to life.
“It worked,” I said, sounding surprised.
“Well, of course it did, sweetie,” Anita said as she swept the floor with a very witchy looking broom. I ignored her and leaned in to steal a kiss from each boys' lips as a thank you—but not a one of them would kiss me back.
“Rat tail, Sugar Tits,” Reg said with a shrug. “Brush your damn teeth first.”
I reached out, punched him in the shoulder, and pushed the cat off of me so I could stand up … just in time to see Anita fish an eyeball from a glass bottle and pop it into her mouth, humming as she shivered wi
th pleasure and then continued sweeping the floor.
Okay, that was it.
Enough supernatural shit.
It was time to head into New York for some girl talk, shopping, and cosmopolitans.
The guys could come, but they better not get in my damn way.
Unfortunately, Gram decided she'd also like to tag along for my trip into the city proper.
“This Siobhan character,” she said with a scoff, appearing on the sidewalk outside my best friend’s apartment building. “I never liked her; she’s a terrible influence.”
I ignored my dead grandmother and waited for the rest of the boys to pile out of the plumbing van. We were parked in a fifteen minute zone, so somebody was going to have to move the damn thing sooner rather than later, but one of the guys could deal with that. I just wanted to see my girlfriend’s face, maybe go out for coffee or something, and have some private chitchat time.
I sooooo wanted to gossip about my new men and their giant dicks. What?! We all do it with our lady friends—you know it's true.
“Oh, also,” Gram said smugly as I took my small overnight bag and craned my neck back to stare up at the massive, soaring heights of the building. Standing in the middle of New York City was like … transforming from a human—or elemental—into an ant. You just became so fucking insignificant. I’d always thought of that as a bad thing, but right now, the anonymity felt good. “Your friend is a succubus.”
With that bit of shit tossed and splattered on my feet, Gram winked out with a smug smile and left me gaping in the middle of the dirty sidewalk.
“Siobhan … is a succubus?” I said aloud and Reg cocked a brow.
“You talking to yourself again, ST?” he asked again. “Or just chillin’ with ghosts?”
Several people walking by either glanced over to give me a you fuckin’ crazy lady? looks or I want to fuck your husbands looks. Neither of which I much enjoyed.
I glared at Reg and swept my fingers through the blonde waves of my hair.