Chasing Magic: A Reverse Harem Series (Capturing Magic Book 2)

by Jessica Sorensen

  “What happened to you?” he demands in the softest tone.

  I smash my lips together as tears burn my eyes.

  For reals, Harlynn. You’re going to start fucking becoming a crier now of all times?

  “Shhh …” Asher whispers. “Try to relax. I’m going to take it away.”

  I blink at him, lost, and he gulps, his eyes wide with … horror?

  More fear bursts through me at the sight of him terrified.

  What’s he about to do?

  “Relax,” he repeats as he slips his hand down along my collarbone then lines his palm to the center of my chest.

  “What’re you doing?” I whisper as an orb of light reflects from his skin.

  “Taking the pain away,” he murmurs, his glowing eyes fixed on mine.

  A heart-knocking moment later, glittery warmth spills through my veins, my skin coating with it.

  “Breathe,” Asher demands gently.

  I suck in an inhale, and the pressure that was building in my chest alleviates.

  “Again,” he says, taking a breath himself.

  I mimic his move. Air in. Air out. Pain in. Pain out …

  The tears in my eyes dry as my body stills.

  “What was that?” I whisper as I stare up at him in awe.

  The glowing around his skin and in his eyes dims. “That was one of my abilities.”

  “Oh … Well, it was …” I rack my mind for a word that won’t make me sound too impressed but impressed enough, not wanting to overly stroke his genie ego. “Wonderful.” I cringe. That so wasn’t the word I was looking for.

  Shockingly, his lips remain in a thin line as confliction dances across his expression.

  “Are you okay?” I ask worriedly.

  Nodding, he bends his arm and lowers his head toward mine. “Yeah … I’m fine.” His eyelids lower, and then he delicately brushes his lips against mine, giving the softest caress of a wishful kiss.

  A shaky breath quivers from my lips as I wind my fingers around his biceps. Worry creeps through me.

  While quick and soft, this sort of kiss is the dangerous kind. The kind that could put both our curses into play.

  I need to stop this now!

  I start to protest when his lips softly touch mine again and a content moan eases from his. My heart does this weird leaping thing as my fingers unconsciously wander up his arms and slip around to his shoulder blades, my fingers piercing into his skin as I struggle to remain in control of my emotions.

  An uneven moan falters from Asher’s lips. “We should … We should stop. I shouldn’t have … I can’t …” He dips his lips and kisses me again, this time with a bit more force.

  I groan as my mind spins out of control. I’m being very stupid right now, for so many different reasons. But I swear the longer he kisses me, the better I feel. Maybe because he’s using his magic on me? I should care that he is, but … I don’t know. It’s making me feel so much better.

  “Har, we should stop,” he breathes between kisses.

  Har? He called me Har? I hate how much I like it.

  I nod in agreement with every intention of putting a stop to this, but I end up winding my legs around his hips, as if I’ve lost the ability to think rationally.

  He groans, grinding his hips against mine as he kisses me again.

  I gasp against his lips as the strangest, and I’ll admit wonderful, sensations burst through me. A tremble rolls through my body again, but this time for a different reason.

  He pauses, pushing back a margin of an inch, question marks flooding his eyes. “Har, have you …?” He trails off, reluctance masking his face.

  I swear he can see my inexperience written all over my face, and like an idiot, a flush creeps across my cheeks. It’s so fucking annoying that I react this way. Out of all the things to get embarrassed over, this is what my mind chooses?

  “You want me to stop?” he asks with confliction.

  I will my head to nod because, for one, we so don’t need to be going down this road. And two, I’d like to try to salvage some of my dignity. Instead, I roll my hips against his.

  Bravo, Harlynn. Way to look like a needy, horny succubus.

  But I’m not even positive it’s completely about being needy. Part of me likes the feel of Asher against me because it makes me forget that Yellow tried to touch me like this.

  “We should … I don’t …” Asher breathes raggedly.

  A sputtering genie? Never thought I’d see one of those—

  He rocks his hips against mine, and a startled gasp fumbles from my lips as I dig my fingernails deeper into his shoulder blades. Groaning, he repeats the movement, his gaze relentlessly locked on mine.

  “We should stop,” he keeps muttering underneath his breath, yet his hips only seem to rock faster.

  I move with him, desperation, desire, and panic coursing through my veins. My emotions are running all over the place, like a broken meter. I can barely sort through them. Barely comprehend what I’m feeling. Tears pool in my eyes again, but I hold on to Asher, hold on to the only thing that’s not letting that fucking memory of Yellow consume my mind—

  Asher abruptly jerks back, jumps off the sofa, and rushes toward the door, but then he pauses halfway across the room and clutches his head. His back is to me, but I can see his shoulders rising and falling, and I can hear the sharp intakes of his breath.

  I feel equally as rattled as I sit up and struggle to get my breathing under control, my mind crammed with a clusterfuck of confusion.

  What just happened? And why did Asher stop? And why do I feel both relieved and disappointed that he did? Not to mention embarrassed.

  When he makes no effort to say anything or turn around, I get up and, ignoring the shakiness of my legs, start to step toward the door. “I’m just going to go out in the hallway for a bit,” I mutter.

  He turns around, his brows knit. “Why?”

  “Because I think we could both maybe use a break from each other.” I can barely look him in the eye, feeling stupid and disgusted with myself.

  I practically attacked him.

  As I squeeze by him, he captures my arm.

  “I don’t want a break,” he insists, capturing my gaze. “What I want is for you to tell me why your skirt’s torn and why you were trying to distract yourself by grinding your hips against mine. Not that I’d mind any other time, but I don’t want you to be upset when we mess around. I want you to have a clear head.” He tugs on my arm, pulling me closer, his eyes swirling with smoky flames. “So you can feel everything I’m doing to you.”

  My breathing starts to quicken, but I take a subtle breath and calm myself down. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of my skirt being torn. It just got snagged on something. That’s it.”

  “You’re lying,” he states. “I can smell it all over you.”

  This isn’t the first time he’s said something like that to me.

  “I thought we already established that I’m a pro liar,” I remind him. “So maybe your little sniffer, lie detector thing is broken.”

  “I can also smell elf on you,” he adds, disregarding my remark. “You mentioned one was able to see you. And a couple of cyborgs. Who exactly were they?”

  “Who exactly is the Wishing Shadow?” I challenge.

  He shakes his head. “You go first.”

  “Nope.”

  “Little thief …” he starts to warn.

  “Bossy genie,” I talk over him, and he shakes his head, but his lips threaten to turn upward. “Look, if you want me to tell you what happened, you have to tell me first. There’ve been too many times when you’ve managed to talk around giving me a straight answer, like how you never explained why I look familiar to you.” I don’t bother mentioning I figured the answer out on my own. That’s a secret I’m going to hold on to for now.

  He shakes his head several times, the flames in his eyes burning brighter, which probably means he’s pissed off. “You drive me absolutely c
razy. Do you know that?”

  I shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s said that to me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

  “Not if I can help it,” he mumbles.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head, tugging me toward him until our bodies our flushed. Then he places his hands on my hips and holds me tightly. “Before I tell you who the Wishing Shadow is, I want to remind you of our bargain and what’ll happen if you break it.”

  “I don’t need a reminder of my debt to you,” I say resentfully. “I’m perfectly aware that I can’t leave you guys until I’ve stolen the objects.”

  “Good.” His lack of caring annoys the crap out of me.

  I glare at him. “Now that we got that stupid reminder out of the way, you can tell me who the fuck this Wishing Shadow is.”

  His grip on me intensifies. “It’s … He’s my father’s servant.”

  Chapter 8

  Maybe I should’ve put two and two together and figured that out on my own. Perhaps, deep down, I already knew the answer but was naively hoping I was wrong. Doesn’t really matter, though. Not right now anyway.

  “I need to leave.” I step back, but he delves his fingers into my hips, stopping me.

  “You can’t run away,” he says. “The bargain we made will kill you if you do.”

  “Then dissolve the bargain,” I grit out, shoving against his chest in a lame-ass attempt to get away from him.

  He swiftly shakes his head. “No. That bargain is the only thing keeping you from running away.”

  “Who cares if I do?” I scoff. “I’m not even useful to you anymore. In fact, I cause more problems than anything else.” I gesture at the hologram showing a view of the outside to try to prove my point. “Look at that crowd. They’re so pissed off that you guys aren’t out there. And the only reason you’re not is because of me.”

  “I don’t give a shit about that crowd,” he growls out. “What I care about is you being safe. And you’re safe with us.” His voice softens as he briefly caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “You can’t run away from my father, little thief. If he wants to find you, he will.”

  “You think I’m worried about him finding me?” I gape at him. “I want him to find them, Asher. I want to get my revenge, not run away.” I force down the shakiness rising in my throat. “I’ve wanted my revenge since the day he took my parents away.”

  His tension reduces, but he keeps his hands on my hips. “I want that, too; trust me.”

  “Then, why aren’t you going after him? I mean, you’re a genie and you’re powerful.”

  “Because my father’s more powerful,” he strains out. “He’s more powerful than any other genie still alive. That’s why East, Arrow, and I have been trying to collect these objects—to gain more power so we can go up against him and the rest of his follower and actually stand a chance.” He moves his hands from my hips to cup my face. “I understand your need for revenge—I feel it myself—but I’m not about to risk my own life or East’s and Arrow’s to try to get it.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “And I’m not going to let you risk yours to try to either.” He skims his thumb along my cheekbone, and I detect the slightest bit of wobbliness in his hand. “My father has taken away too many creatures that I care about. I’m not going to let him take any more away from me.”

  Vulnerable, pained genie. That’s definitely, definitely something I thought I’d never see. But actually seeing it … seeing the emotions reflecting from his eyes … it’s a lot to take in.

  “Who …? Who did he take away from you?” I whisper.

  I don’t really expect him to answer, so he startles me when he says, “Some of my friends back on my planet … East’s brother and sister … my mother …” He pauses for a beat then mumbles, “The possibility of you.”

  My brows tug together, and my lips part, ready to ask questions, but he steps back, rubbing his hand across his face.

  “I really should find a way to get out there,” he mutters, glancing at the hologram. “Before they break the gates down.”

  Understanding his pain all too well, I decide to let my questions drop for now.

  “Asher,” I say as he turns for the door. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  He stiffens as he folds his fingers around the doorknob. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  I wrap my arms around myself. “I know, but I know how hard that has to be for you.”

  He glances over his shoulder, and we exchange a silent, meaningful look that puzzles me to no end. And I’m not even going to try to decipher it. If I did, then I have a feeling I might be giving in to my curse just a little bit.

  “I’m going to go see if anyone knows where East and Arrow are. I’ll be right back.” He pulls open the door and moves to leave.

  “Wait,” I call out, and he pauses. “Before you go, there’s something I need to tell you. Something about what happened while I was out on the street.”

  He faces me then moves back into the room, closes the door, and waits patiently for me to explain.

  It takes me a conflicting moment, but once I open my mouth, the words just pour out of me as I start to tell him everything.

  Chapter 9

  Okay, I end up not telling him everything. I mean to. I know that maybe I should have. But when I get to the part where Yellow takes me up to that room, my stomach churns with nausea and I damn near vomit on the floor. So, I stop, bottle the words up, and shove them down, letting them mix with the pain and disgust. It’s unhealthy—I know that—but I can’t seem to get past the revulsion, remorse, and embarrassment.

  “What happened when you got up to the room?” Asher prods when I trail off mid-story.

  We’re sitting on the sofa, close but not close enough that we’re touching, with the sounds of chanting from outside still filling the air around us. The more I tell him about what happened, the more worked-up he gets. I’m worried he might explode at any given moment.

  I shrug, picking at my fingers. “Apparently, aside from being able to shake the ground, widen alleyways, and make stairways vanish, I can also make the bars on a headboard come to life and snake around elves. After that, I just snuck out the tunnel that Arrow’s cyborg friend told me about.”

  Asher’s eyes pop wide. “Since when can you widen alleyways and make stairways vanish?”

  “Oh, did Arrow and East not tell you about that?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “Well, it happened on our way here, when Arrow got stuck underneath a stairway and couldn’t get out.”

  “That’s … That’s really impressive.” He stares at me in wonderment. “I wonder what else you can do.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think East’s theory about my emotions bringing out my powers is right. Although, I think I really need to start working on controlling them better because, a lot of times, they just happen or won’t work at all.”

  “It’s probably because you haven’t used them in a while, if ever,” Asher clarifies, draping an arm along the back of the sofa. “Powers work a lot like muscles in terms that they can weaken if they’re not frequently used, so if they’re dormant for a while, they don’t work properly until you rebuild your strength.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” I recline back, adjusting my torn skirt. “But, how can I use my power and rebuild their strength if I have to rely on my emotions setting them off?”

  “I think, when we find out what you are and where your powers stem from, you might have an easier time controlling them.”

  “And when exactly is that going to be?”

  “You mean, when are we going after the books?” he asks, and I nod. “As soon as we get the soul of an incubus and succubus, and Arrow hacks into the city’s system to get a layout of The Vault.”

  “Why do you need the souls anyway? And what about this Chasing Magic Industries? What are they? And why are they hunting you? And what about the worlds patrol?” I frown
as the shouting from outside grows louder and more demanding. “It seems like we’re drawing an awful lot of attention right now, which you said you wanted to avoid.”

  “We’ll be fine. As far as we can tell, the worlds patrol hasn’t been able to track us here. And they haven’t put a bounty on all of us,” he attempts to reassure me, but nervousness resides in his expression as he casts a glance at the hologram. “As for the Chasing Magic Industries, they’re basically a group that oversees the theft of magical objects, and while we’ve put up a protection spell around us to keep them from easily tracking us down, every so often one of their lackeys manages to get close. But this elf, he won’t be able to find us, even with all the noise going on outside. Besides, there’s always a bit of chaos when we’re on tour. Usually, it’s for an encore, but this isn’t that much different.”

  I attempt to tell if he’s lying, but he’s the portrait of indifference at the moment. “Would Yellow have been able to find you if I had led him to you guys?”

  “Possibly.” He gives a short pause. “But you didn’t.” It’s not a question, but I shrug anyway.

  “It’s not a big deal. I mostly did it because he was bossing me around, and you know how much I hate that.” I fight back a squirm and the need to cover up the scratches as his gaze descends to my legs.

  “You never told me where you got these from.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just scratched them on some rough brick when I was walking down that tunnel to get out of the inn.”

  His gaze snaps to mine. “These aren’t scratches from bricks. They’re scratches from fingernails.”

  “How would you know?” I quip in an attempt to avoid the truth. “Are you an expert on scratches?”

  “Actually, I am,” he mumbles, scratching at the scars on his chest.

  “What happened?” I reach to touch his scars, but mid-reach, I withdraw, comprehending how dumb of an idea it would be.

  “You tell me what happened here first, and then I’ll tell you.” He delicately sketches his finger along one of the marks.

  I shiver as both desire and nausea crash through me, and the entire floor quivers as well. Bottles on the table clink together and a cup tumbles off, shattering even more glass on the floor.