“Thank you for bringing it here,” she said, exhaling as the wind picked up loose strands of her hair and teased them around her face. She looked up and into my eyes, and I couldn’t help but remember the fiery witch girl I’d fallen in love with so many years ago. Well, as much as someone like me could ever truly experience love. It was a twisted emotion inside of me, like a tree with winter-warped branches, forever doomed to stay silhouetted against a cold, gray sky. Some people had leaves on their trees, sweet fragrant blossoms that titillated and teased.
Not me.
“I have nothing else to do,” I said in that same, caustic biting tone. I’d developed it through habit, years of being alone or around others that I hated almost as much as I hated myself. Instead, I looked at Grace and tried to memorize every single feature, etch it in the depths of the soul I didn’t have so I could pull it up on command.
“Well,” she began, looking over her shoulder guiltily. When she glanced back, I caught a spark of hope burning in her gaze. “I talked the boys into letting you come in.” I raised two white brows at her, and imagined standing in that warm kitchen of hers while she cast love spells in a black silk robe and bare feet. It’d be fucking torture. And yet, I wanted it so bad my teeth hurt. “But if you do one thing that Argent doesn’t like …”
Licking my lips, I tossed my white braid over one shoulder and folded my wings in close, letting them disappear in a whiff of smoke.
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t upset the little seelie puff … on purpose.”
Grace gave me a look, like perhaps the expression on my face was crazier than I’d intended it to be.
“I mean it, Monster. If you blow this, you’ll be spending the next few weeks all by yourself.” She turned in a sea of black silk and headed up the path to the massive front porch with me trailing along behind her.
The two men glared at me as I moved past, and I didn’t try to make things better. No, I smirked at them and winked in a provocative sort of way intended to stir things up. Why I did it, I can’t really say. It was how I’d grown up, the way my world had always been. Cozy evenings with the family in front of a roaring fire weren’t a part of my childhood—not unless that fire was being used to roast a fat pig for a bacchanalia or else being used to torture someone into giving up sensitive information.
There was a reason I didn’t fit in here.
Grace led me through the living room where the vampire sat on a blanket with their four kids, and showed me to the kitchen. The little brother I hadn’t met until recently—Hex Sorciere—was mixing a bowl full of purple ingredients with his fingers. He glared at me with sharp orange eyes when I walked in.
“Seriously?” he asked, looking at me like I represented the half of himself that he hated. I didn’t blame him. If I were him, I’d probably wish I were a full-blooded witch, too. It’d certainly make things easier between him and Grace. “You’re going to make a fucking bath bomb?”
“I could give a shit less about them,” I said, leaning against one of the wood-topped counters and sliding my fingers into the pockets of my linen trousers. They were lined with iron fibers meant to keep the fae from peeking in with their dirty magic or their dirty hands. I was sure they’d infuriate Argent, particularly if I played around in there like I had something to hide. “I just want to watch.”
“Nope,” Grace said, putting a stack of mixing bowls in front of me, and then using her magic to flip through a thick tome on the counter beside her. It was a spellbook, one of Coven Apothecary’s, and it was filled with magic I wanted to steal and make my own. Instead, I forced myself to stand still and look only at the recipe that was presented to me. “These are the instructions. Put together the ingredients, and I’ll do the casting.” She readjusted her pointing finger to a mold shaped like a half-dozen cocks. “I want at least fifty dicks, and fifty vaginas for tomorrow. Can we do that?”
“That’s a lot of dick,” Hex mumbled under his breath, but he kept working, perfuming the air with the scent of lavender and lilac. “Could be more pussy though.” He smiled at his own joke, and so did Grace. It bothered me, to see them look at each other, smiling like that. And there she was looking so fucking sexy in black silk with a slightly rounded belly, full of his baby.
Fuck! I didn’t intend to let the anger swirl through me, but it lashed up and into my fingers, exploding out into the cozy little kitchen in a gust of hot wind. All four men and Grace turned to look at me; one of the babies laughed. Well. If I couldn’t scare a child, then I was in big trouble.
“Get your hands dirty, Monster,” Grace said, shoving a box that said baking soda my way. It looked to be a common earthbound ingredient, but I wasn’t from earth, and I hadn’t spent time here in a while. I had no idea what baking soda was. I did, however, step forward and start examining the colored plastic measuring spoons covered in little pink and red hearts.
Hmm.
Very Graceley.
“Explain this Valentine’s Day to me again,” I said as I started to puzzle my way through the recipe. We might be making bath additives for humans and Numinous—another word for supernaturals—too weak to cast their own spells, but spellcasting we were. I could handle this. Usually, I worked with bones and gristle, hair and blood, teeth and skin. Everything in here smelled fresh and bouncy and like it was from a different world.
“It’s a holiday that dates back to pagan times, but as it is right now, it’s a time for humans to go on dates, fuck, and give each other chocolates, cards, and flowers.” Spectre shrugged like he wasn’t a big fan of the ridiculous holiday himself. “We like to take advantage of it to spoil Grace.” He smiled at her, flashing fang, and his lavender eyes glittered mischievously. “Mostly, it’s a good time to make money at the shop.”
“Money is easy to get,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “You’re a vampire. Take it from a wealthy human trash bag, and be done with it. There are so many humans with more wealth than they could possibly ever use; they deserve to be punished for their greed.”
“We would, but there are other factors at play,” Grace said, taking a tray of completed bath bombs to her freezer and slipping them in. I might not know much of technology, but I’d never forget Grace pulling out a container of ice cream and eating it naked, my cum dripping down her inner thighs. I licked my lips, and she noticed. Everyone did. “There are rich Numinous, too, and there are ruling parties for every race. Earth’s not as much of a free for all as you think it is.”
“I stole thousands of dollars from a man yesterday,” I replied with a shrug of my shoulders, adding baking soda, corn starch, and Epsom salt into a bowl. The next ingredient was citric acid. I liked that, the acid part I mean. I’d worked with plenty of acid in my day. “He hardly noticed.”
“Good for you. You’re a criminal; how surprising.” Argent took up one corner of the large kitchen island and began to mix his own ingredients, packing them into the vagina mold on his right. The Seelie Prince and I had never been on good terms. Oh no. I’d let him save Grace from me. I’d let him be the hero, the rescuer, the knight in shining armor.
Sometimes I wanted to kill him.
“Like you’re innocent, faerie prince,” I said, smirking as I searched the counter for the citric acid and added some of it to my bowl. “I’ve seen you slay fields of soldiers and not blink an eye. If stealing money from an entitled human pimple is a crime, then what does that make you?”
“A human pimple,” Grace muttered, and then chuckled. “Well-put, though. However, I don’t need you two comparing sins. There are some things I just don’t want to talk about during a pre-Valentine’s Day bath bomb making party.” She dipped her wrists into the chunky mixture in front of her and squeezed out several lumps before smoothing it into the molds. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
“Like how I’m going to need four bottles of wine to get through this evening without starting a fight?” Argent asked, as the werewolf scooted himself up and onto the counter to watch. We’
d had some scuffles over the last few months, certainly, but as dumb and rugged as he pretended I had the feeling he suspected more than anyone else in this kitchen.
The bastard was trying to sniff out my secrets.
Good thing I was prepared to kill to keep them private.
“Don’t start a fight with me,” I purred as I studied the bottles of essential oils and picked the ones that most reminded me of Grace—jasmine and lilac—adding them in liberal amounts to the mixture in my bowl. The spell components went in next: a twig, a few green apple slices, a drop from a bottle marked stag’s blood. “You’ll lose.”
The faerie prince glared daggers at me as I lifted copper eyes to meet his charcoal gaze. Demon prince versus fae prince, it’d be an interesting tangle of magic and blood and bruises, wouldn’t it? But fighting with Argent Spells would not accomplish anything except to give me a sick, selfish sense of triumph. I’d sent Grace to him because she was better off in his arms than in mine.
“Is that a challenge?” Argent asked as Hex groaned under his breath, finishing up a tray and handing it over to Grace. Their fingers tangled, and I felt a spark of heat flash between them. It shouldn’t bother me, seeing my little brother escape the gnarled, reaching hands of our father to find love. But it did. It sickened me, actually.
I scowled and turned away, dousing my mix with black dye. It matched the shadows in my heart and soul, that swirling vortex of pain.
“If it were, you’d know it,” I said, and that was it. I was done engaging. I shouldn’t even be here. It was against my own inner code of conduct, as misguided as that was. The other men took up a conversation, passing kids around the room, handing out snacks. I stayed apart and away from all of it, closing myself off to the world as I worked at a single-minded purpose. Usually, that was whipping up undetectable poisons, or curses that could kill from across the continent. Today, it was bath bombs.
Grace took several of the trays from the freezer, including one of mine, and set them aside. Her silken robe drifted down one pale shoulder, drawing my attention. The children had been put to bed a good half an hour ago, and I could already feel the change in the atmosphere. Caine, Spectre, and Argent wanted me gone. Hex, I wasn’t sure about. He, too, was not a part of this perfect family puzzle, not yet.
But he could be.
And I hated him for that.
The heart cantrips Graceley was weaving were simple, silly things, meant to increase sex drive, decrease fertility, and bring two like hearts together. Of course, the chances of anything long-lasting coming out of their magic was slim, but it might bring a few hours of pleasure, perhaps a few months if the relationships they brought went smoothly. And yet, even though the spell was a boring little witch’s trick, I was intrigued.
Not only did Grace’s magic have a very distinct, sultry, solid quality to it—as befitting the Witch Queen—but she was casting spells of love and sex. The intent was in the air, swirling around the room and teasing my skin with little flutters of warmth.
I dug my nails so deeply into the underside of the countertop that I heard a very distinct crack. I’d rather have ivory stakes shoved through my hands and feet than sit here and feel this when I knew I couldn’t have it. I’d gotten away with a lot in the last few months, too much, and I wasn’t going to get those opportunities again.
Grace finished her spell and turned, looking around the room with a slightly bewildered expression on her face, like she’d cast with more strength and intent than she’d meant to.
“Wow,” she whispered, reaching up to rub at her suddenly sweaty forehead. “That’s …”
“Pungent?” Caine asked, his voice steeped in dark intentions. He flicked his amber eyes my way and gave me a once-over that clearly said he’d like to kick my ass out into the street. I knew why the spell was so strong, but nobody else did. Except maybe the werewolf. Clearly he suspected something. What that something was, he would never know, and I would never tell.
“I’ll just show myself out,” I said, because I was a smart demon. I could read a room. Grace looked at me like maybe she didn’t want me to leave, but that she’d kick me out anyway. Sweat was dripping down the sides of her face in an enticing pattern. As I walked by, I reached out and carefully took a bead of sweat on the edge of one of my knuckles, bringing it to my lips. I licked it away which pissed her little harem off to no end.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Argent called as I slipped past and headed outside.
I didn’t go far. No. The sentient-spelled house wasn’t alarmed by my presence, and the idiots in that kitchen were far too concerned with the magic Grace had unwittingly poisoned them with. So instead, I walked around to the back and found a window to watch the debauchery unfold.
If I took my ebony cock in hand and stroked myself, who would ever know?
Chapter 3
“Wherein I Accidentally Turn a Human Customer into an Incubus”
Graceley
“This is embarrassing,” I said, standing on the opposite side of the counter from my three husbands and my … boyfriend? Ew. Boyfriend was definitely not the word I wanted to keep using in regards to Hex Sorciere. No, it was far too juvenile for what we were going though. A war. A baby. A connection of souls. “The spell sort of … exploded.”
In fact, it was all over my kitchen, this very fine dusting of pink that reminded me of that one time, when I was an apprentice to my mother and had blown up a bottle of love potion number ten (because number nine had been retired for obvious reasons). The entire house had filled with this wild warmth that had driven me straight out the front door while my parents, um, went at it like rabbits. Yeah. Thankfully I’d been a virgin at the time, completely unaffected by the spell, or else I may have just darted three doors down to my crush’s house and thrown myself into his arms.
Tonight, I had four very acceptable outlets for the lust that was flooding my veins.
Shit.
But I’d cast heart cantrips about a million times in the past, so what was different about tonight? Was it Hex, my fourth and final soulmate, finally come home to stay? Was that it? Or was it something else. Fucking Monster. I suspected the bastard although he’d seemed as surprised as I was to see my magic blow up in my face like this.
Maybe, just maybe, having a man who was part incubus in my kitchen while I casted wasn’t the best idea?
“Does anyone else have a seriously rock-hard fucking boner?” Hex asked, and I face-palmed. Although … I couldn’t deny that between my thighs, a wild heat was blossoming. The spell, my own damn spell, was working its literal magic on the five of us. Well, I’d only managed to get the boys to let Hex join us once before. But if we were going to make this work, they were going to have to get used to him. After all, he wasn’t just my soulmate: he was theirs, too.
“Did you even really need to ask?” Caine growled, grabbing at the front of his rough denim jeans. He bought them by the dozen from the thrift store, so he could shift in them and forget about them. Disposable werewolf pants. “Our wife certainly knows how to rock a spell.”
I smiled as he came around the center island with every intention of ravaging me. I could see it in his amber eyes, in his feral grin. And what reason did we have not to follow through with our urges? For the last few months, life had been up and down, topsy-turvy, full of magic and intrigue and death threats. And in the following few weeks, it may very well escalate again. This could be my one chance to take a breath.
Caine grabbed me by the hips and pulled me against him, overwhelming me with that musky scent of his, like fresh sweat and the forest-sweet smell of beast. He dug his claws into my flesh, piercing the thin silk of my nightie as he leaned down and sniffed along the curve of my neck, giving me goose bumps. I could feel the hard press of him through his jeans, and I wiggled back against it without even meaning to.
“I swear on the great goddess’ tits that you’ve never smelled this good to me,” he growled, biting the skin of my neck lightly.
He wouldn’t take it any further than that—but Spectre would. They made a nice complement to one another. “And don’t try’n tell me that’s the spell either.”
“It is the spell,” I said, but my voice was a breathless rush that bled into a moan. It was barely coherent. How could it be when Caine was sliding his hand up the silken front of my nightie to cup my breast, rolling my hardened nipple through the fabric.
“Maybe it’s just because I like you so much? You ever think of that, sugar?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but think of our wild rut during our recent visit to the werewolf pack. I’d shifted for him, and I’d run, and I’d fucked like a goddamn alpha werewolf. It was seriously one of my best memories.
“Never occurred to me,” I gasped as he pushed me over the counter and knelt down, sliding my nightie up my hips to reveal the hot, throbbing heat between my legs. I knew what’d look like from back there, and felt my cheeks flush with heat. Hex is here, I told myself which gave a surprisingly giddy rush that I didn’t expect.
He was here, part of the group, and he was watching as Caine put his mouth up to my heat and ran his tongue along my folds. Getting oral from behind was not a common occurrence for me, but holy shit, did it feel good. Caine was an expert with his tongue, too, teasing just enough to bring pleasure but nowhere near enough to get me off too quickly.
No, I had a feeling he was going to drag this out as long as possible.
Spec appeared on my left and fisted his fingers gently in my hair, lifting my head up so that I had to curve my back to look at him. When he leaned in to kiss me, his mouth was sinfully decadent, almost sharp. His tongue slid between my lips at the same time that Caine, well, did the same thing down below. The sounds I was making were barely human, and I could feel the bright hum of energy from the spell working its way through me, begging for more.
Love Potion: A Valentine's Day Charity Anthology Page 27