Love Potion: A Valentine's Day Charity Anthology

by Graceley Knox

  “Huh?” Hex Sorciere lifted his head up from the box of t-shirts he was rifling through, and looked between the two much taller men. He had this stupid who me? look on his face that I tried not to find cute, but sort of did anyway. I’d tried really hard not to like my fourth and final soulmate, but I was falling for the douchebag whether I liked it or not. “Are you seriously talking shit about me?”

  “Go back to your t-shirts,” Spectre said, handing over a bag full of love charms to a customer as I stood in the middle of all that chaos, unpacking a wooden crate full of bath bombs. I messed with bath products on occasion, even though there was that one time I made soap that turned four of my customers into ducks … Story for another day. But damn, those duckling custody battles had been difficult to hash out in court. “It’s the only thing you can do.”

  “I can make curses,” Hex growled under his breath, yanking a stack of extra-large shirts from the box and shoving them into the wooden cube on the wall. He was putting them in the section marked Small, but I wasn’t about to say anything. “Or charms. Potions. Whatever. I’m a witch, too, remember?”

  Spectre, my vampire husband, and the third man (fourth if you counted my ex, Monster) I ever fell in love with, smiled secretly at me, flashing just a bit of fang as he motioned the next customer forward. We were going to make mad money this week and yet, I wasn’t nearly as excited as I usually was this time of year. I mean, Valentine’s Day was sort of a thing for me. Not only did the store make money, but I also got to help new love burgeon and blossom. That, and the day was usually accompanied by a babysitter for our four kids, a date with my husbands, and lots and lots of wild sex.

  Sigh.

  I put my hand on my slightly rounded belly and tried not to notice the way Hex’s eyes flicked to my stomach, and then up to my face. I still wasn’t sure how he felt about us having a kid together. Or about the fact that our child was prophesied. Or how everyone and their demon grandma thought she was the promised Witch Queen of legend.

  Only … according to Monster, our future kid wasn’t the Witch Queen: I was.

  Me, some foretold ruler for the entire witch-race, a savior of earth against a demon onslaught? Please. I still didn’t believe it.

  I snorted under my breath and continued to sort bath bombs, wondering what sort of strange lovesick individual might stride through our front doors next. Already today I’d spelled a woman against the amorous intent of her boss (what a creep), cursed a teenage boy who’d cheated on his girlfriend, and handed out a half-dozen charms to attract a mate.

  Carefully, I sorted out the bath bombs into baskets labelled with the scent—and spell—present in each glittering orb. Lilac and peony for relaxation (plus a secret Coven Apothecary family charm), sandalwood and amber to draw in masculine energy (could be used by a person trying to attract a male mate or a male trying to boost his virile charms), and fresh vanilla bean with just a dash of magic to, um, improve a person’s taste, if you catch my drift. Worked for both males and females, and made oral sex just a bit more fun for both parties.

  But my favorite bath bombs were the ones with a slightly different shape.

  “Dick-shaped bath bombs?” Caine growled, pausing next to me with his blue and gray flannel shirt undone in the front. He was holding a box under one arm with a packing slip sticking out of the side. Looked like he was on his way out the front door for a delivery. I leaned over and kissed him, his mouth as sweet and honeyed as his drawling Southern accent. Werewolf he might be, but the man’s scent drew serious crowds. I’d once made some bath bombs with his scent and sold out in just a few days’ time. I still had orders of those to fill that I hadn’t gotten to yet.

  It was a tad difficult to keep the store running smoothly when I was, you know, fighting for my life against a dangerous cabal of demons intent on abandoning the realm of Hael and taking over the world. Inventory problems, back orders, and the messy as fuck storage room … they’d have to wait. I mean, we had sex frequently in the messy storage room, but as far as cleaning it, that was put on hold until we got this war business straightened out.

  “What about the vagina-shaped ones?” I asked, lifting up a lovely pink bath bomb with gold glitter. Caine took my wrist in his long fingers, locked his amber eyes with mine, and pulled my hand forward so he could sniff it. Thing was, I knew it was all for show. He was a goddamn werewolf; he could smell the bath bomb from three blocks away.

  “I can easily imagine why someone would want a little extra pussy in their bath,” he growled, and I gaped, feeling my cheeks flush with red. It shouldn’t turn me on so much to hear him say the word pussy, buuuuuut, I was pregnant again. And when I was pregnant, I was horny as hell. I seriously could not get enough. “But more dick? Hell no. Already too much dick around here.” Caine raised his voice to an octave that was sure to reach the ears of every human, witch, demon, vampire, werewolf, fae, or whatever the fuck else that was in the shop with us.

  “Gee, thanks for that,” I whispered as he moved away and let himself out the front door, the bells jangling merrily just before he tossed a wink my way and disappeared. I finished laying out the genital-shaped bath products and fixed the signs on the baskets.

  Gentleman’s Bath Bomb, $19.95 – deliciously seductive pomegranate scent, spelled to amp up the libido. One bomb per bath, once per week. Do not exceed suggested usage. Side effects may apply. May be used by anyone age 18 and over.

  And on the other …

  Lady’s Bath Bomb, $19.95 – warm and spicy cinnamon and clove scent, spelled to amp up the libido. One bomb per bath, once per week. Do not exceed suggested usage. Side effects may apply. May be used by anyone age 18 and over.

  I stepped back and tucked the empty basket under my arm, turning around and bumping right into Monster’s broad chest. He was wearing a shirt, luckily, and a glamour so thick that it had physical properties. Thank Goddess. Or else I’d probably already be on my knees trying to unbutton his slacks.

  My mouth curved into a sharp frown.

  “Why are you even here?” I whispered, not trusting myself around him. The last few months had seriously messed with my head. All the things I’d thought I’d known about him—his delicately practiced cruelty, his wildfire sexuality, his behind-the-scenes manipulation—it was all there. But there were other things I hadn’t expected: the way I’d feel about him when the memories came flooding back, the fact that I’d feel safe enough to let him meet my kids let alone hold them or babysit, and the simple truth that while Hex, Argent, Caine, Spectre, and I had been knocked flat by the spell to save my mother from her curse … Monster had been there. He’d watched over us, kept us safe.

  I had no idea what to think anymore. The only thing I was sure about was that he was still hiding things from me, still playing games behind the scenes, that there was still so much more about him that I didn’t know and that I might never know.

  “I’m here to help,” he said, but lately his idea of helping had been standing around and staring at me like he was trying to drink in every last drop. But … he’d done horrible things to me in the past. He couldn’t be trusted. And besides, I already had the four soul mates the oracle had predicted for me, and I was still struggling to figure out how to squeeze Hex into all of that; I did not need a fifth man in my life.

  “If you want to help, why don’t you go in the back and start unpacking all the boxes that are blocking the rear entrance?”

  Monster’s mouth curled into a seductive little smile. For the briefest of flashes, I could see his true form beneath the glamour, and the sight made my mouth water and my toes curl in my shoes. Ugh. Those pregnancy hormones were making me crazy. That must be it.

  “I’d love to help unblock the rear entrance,” he told me as I rolled my eyes and moved away from him, pausing as my familiar, Bast, leapt off of a shelf and onto my shoulders. She was purring and rubbing against me so vigorously that I knew she was gearing up to tell me her ‘secret’, the one I’d suspected for weeks.

&nb
sp; “You’re up to something,” I started as I pushed aside the curtain to the consult room and started to tidy up for my next appointment. “You’re never this friendly unless you want something.”

  “Me?” she asked, ever the picture of innocence. But I’d seen her taut, round little belly weeks ago. I knew what this was about. “Whatever could you be talking about?”

  “You’re having kittens,” I said, and she sniffed at me, hopping off me and onto the couch where she then proceeded to scratch her nails on the expensive fabric. Great. My familiar was a complex, magical being and yet … that did not stop her from marking my furniture or peeing in my slippers. “Just admit it; I’ve known for a while.”

  “Oh, please,” she said, standing up and stretching. But ever since Hex and I had gotten closer, so had Bast and his familiar, Connard. Mating cat yowls are loud, impossible to miss, and vaguely disturbing. They’d been doing it since Halloween, at least. “And so what if I am? You’re having another kitten, too.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, and gave her a look.

  “You’ll train them to use a litter box post haste or I’ll adopt those little fuckers out in a heartbeat.” Bast hissed at me playfully, and I just smiled. She knew her children would be welcome to live with us … until they found their own witches that is, usually around the eight week old mark.

  Some secret little voice inside of me whispered that this litter could very well provide the familiars for all of my children—if they were blessed with any, that is. Not all mixed race witches got familiars. Hex Sorciere was actually a bit of an anomaly in that regard. None of my other husbands, despite all being half-witches themselves, had been blessed in that way.

  “Grace,” Argent said, his beautiful charcoal-grey eyes meeting mine as he pulled back the curtain that separated this area from the rest of the shop. “Your next appointment is here.”

  I nodded, adjusted my witch’s hat, and gestured my client through.

  It was time to brew up a love potion.

  Chapter 2

  “The Best-Laid Spells of Witches and Demons …”

  Monster

  Being around Graceley Spells was … torturous.

  I wanted her with every fiber of my being and yet, I couldn’t have her.

  Coming here was a mistake, my mind chided, but I pushed that self-deprecating snarl aside. What else could I have done? I knew the prophecy of the Witch Queen better than anyone, and I knew the stakes. I’d been working at protecting Grace from herself since she was fifteen years old. I’d sold my soul to protect her.

  But watching her with her family, with these other men, that was torturous. The darkest parts of me wanted to keep toying with her, see how far I could get her to go. It was in my nature as a demon to want to pick and play, pull strings and plant traps, but I was doing my best to keep it under control. After all, it’d be over soon anyway, and Grace would never have to see me again.

  “We’re completely sold out of crystals, tarot cards, love spells, and bath bombs.” Grace paused and bent down, examining the empty baskets. The first ones I’d seen go were the heart cantrips, the love spells woven into the glittering phalluses and sparkling cunts.

  Mostly humans that were buying those. I supposed I didn’t blame them. Graceley’s magic was strong, and it had this gentle quality that promised not to bite. It drew me with honeyed promises and wicked whispers; it made me want her more because of all the things I knew.

  “Nothing I can do about the crystals or the cards unless we have more in the back, but I should whip up some bath bombs for tomorrow’s rush.” My eyes were on Grace’s ass, tucked into a tight, black mermaid dress with lace on the hem. I wasn’t the only one looking.

  When her newest lover, Hex Sorciere, turned to look at me and found me staring, he scowled and threw me an expression worthy of his demon king father. It was hard to believe we were related. I smiled at him, but it wasn’t a nice smile, and I knew he could tell. He turned away sharply and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Does it really matter?” the werewolf, Caine, asked, juggling a pair of twins in his arms. Graceley’s twins. If she only knew the dark, twisted acrobats my shadowed heart went through when I saw her offspring. They should be mine was the only thing I could think. Once upon a time, she was pregnant with my baby. But that once upon a time did not come with a happily ever after. “How important is it really that we have bath bombs on the shelves?”

  “Every little bit of income is important,” Grace said, standing up and throwing a look over her shoulder, red hair vibrant as rubies, lips as red as blood, body curvy and luscious. Torture, fucking infernal torture. I met her green eyes with my copper ones, and watched as she flicked them violently away. She did not want to look at me; she wanted nothing to do with me.

  And I didn’t blame her.

  “We were out of commission for weeks, and who the hell knows what the spring equinox might bring,” Spectre said, playing around with the thin device in his hand. I think it was called a tablet. Never did abide by technology much myself. Why let machines do what magic could do better? “We need the money.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “So let’s make some bath bombs—together.”

  The way he emphasized that last word, I could quite clearly tell I wasn’t going to be invited. And why should I be? I was nothing to this family, and I never would be.

  The thought made me scowl as Grace looked me over carefully.

  “I suppose it’d be just as easy at the house as it would here,” she hazarded, reaching up to tip her witch’s hat. Never thought I’d fall for a witch. It was as surprising as it was terrifying. Everything about us added up to disaster. Graceley and I would never be any more than we were right then, strangers with a darkly intimate past and no future. “We could pick the kids up on the way home.” She looked at Hex next, and I could see that old faerie fart, Argent, giving me the eye. He figured on one demon asshole being invited to join his perky little family; he did not want me there. “Why don’t you join us?” she continued, voice husky, soft, inviting. My hands curled into fists before she finally glanced my way. “And you, too, if you want. Until the equinox, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  Because at the equinox, Grace would seal the portals that connected earth and Hael, and I … would be left standing on the wrong side.

  “You can’t be serious?” Argent asked, throwing out a hand to indicate me. “It’s bad enough we let him stay in the shop apartment, but now you want to bring him home, too?” His silver fae skin sparkled as his glamour dropped. I decided to let mine go, too, shrugging it off like an old coat. It felt good, to spread the shadowy, diaphanous lengths of my wings like that. Hex looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but I wasn’t a half-witch like he was. No, there was nothing but demon blood in my veins. I embraced my darkness instead of hiding from it.

  “Argent, everyone deserves a second chance,” Graceley said, reaching over to scratch her familiar between the ears. The big cat purred and arched its back, opening two green eyes to stare at me. She wasn’t my biggest fan, that was for sure. No, that boat had sailed long ago. I’d dipped Grace in a darkness devoid of stars, and then I’d let her go and walked away. I’d never forgotten her though. I’d ached every moment since, but it didn’t matter. Even if I weren’t made of cruelty and pain, our eventual destruction was etched in the infinite. “His actions have proven his—”

  “His actions haven’t proven anything to me except that I dislike him just as much now as I did when he dropped you in my arms, panting and sweating, and halfway to losing your mind.” Argent scowled, and I knew he blamed me for what’d happened between Grace and me these past few months, the sexual tension coiled like a snake. I’d been this close to fucking taking her, using the pheromones in my skin to roll her under … but he didn’t know that. And it really had been Grace who’d taken our brief encounters from cold to scorching fucking hot on more than one occasion. “I don’t want him in my house unless it’s a life or death situation
.”

  With that, the fae prince swept from the room and left through the back hall of the shop.

  “I don’t much care for bath bombs anyway,” I growled, heading for the steps that led up to the apartment. “Sounds like a goddamn bore.”

  As I climbed them two at a time, I tried to tell myself that I really believed that.

  Demons don’t give a fuck about bath bombs.

  Instead, an hour later, I found myself standing outside the Spells family home, looking up at the front door. I’d made friends with the house on a previous occasion, so I wasn’t immediately killed for stepping foot on the property, but you can bet that the inhabitants already knew I was there.

  Thank the wicked gods I was invited.

  Grace came out with a silky black robe wrapped around her, that bright red hair of hers billowing in the wind.

  “I can’t believe I forgot the mugwort,” she said, looking chagrined. I couldn’t help but notice that both the werewolf and the fae assholes were standing on the porch staring at me. The urge to grab Grace by the forearms and soak her in my magic was strong. We could be fucking before they got down the steps. But I’d made a deal, one that was bound in magic around my wrist, and I couldn’t break it. I shouldn’t want to even if I could.

  But I did.

  More proof that I was a wicked rotten man undeserving of anything but the fate I’d already resigned myself to. Now, I just had to survive another month and a half until I’d return to Hael, take on the demon king, and say goodbye to Grace forever.