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WELCOME TO

SPELLFIRE, TEXAS

Where things aren't what they seem, no—

they are so much hotter!

The Fourth of the Spellfire Collections

Moonshyne, Jewel Adams
Being the last moonbeam faery in existence makes Shyne lonely, until she meets Sheriff Malaci Spellfire, a shape-shifting demvir, who fills her emptiness with passion.

Trouble Brews, Mae Powers

When Jeff and Marion Trinkets learn she's pregnant, they didn't expect troubled brews of an eerie kind to happen within Spellfire, Texas.

The Grand Design, Melanie Gilbreath

Artist Stephen McClintock has lost his inspiration. It's interior decorator and witch Amy Pettibone to the rescue to salvage his unharmonious habitat.

Clothes Minded, Karen Rose

When car trouble brings runaway bride Cosmina del Costa to Quantum Mechanics, will this fashion designer find love in the arms of an ancient warrior?

In The Hot Zone, C.D. Reese

Heaven and Hell collide when a sharpshooter falls for a half demon. Can this 'petite ange' aim true to win her lover's very soul back?

High Chairs and High Stakes, Jenna Leigh

When Erin MacKenzie meets Matthias Gregory, a vampire raising his daughter alone, the witch-nanny finds that she's bitten off more than she can chew.

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EXCERPT

Moonshyne

By

Jewel Adams

She smiled as her skin tingled to life as she stepped into the circle of moonlight. Her delicate wings began to expand as the translucent fibers bathed in the shimmering moondust. They swayed under a breathless breeze until they glowed in renewing energy. She raised her face to partake of the moon’s rich light, thankful for another clear night in Spellfire Woods.

Her soft laughter vibrated with her wings as they lifted her in a seductive dance in the moonbeams. But, Shyne’s pleasure in the moon’s beauty refused to reach her heart as she hoped. She was entering another season and still her illusive lover failed to make himself known.

Memories of the beast she ran with that first night in these woods came back to her again. She never even saw an animal like this in the city, the thought made her laugh. Spellfire held one surprise after another for Shyne. She didn’t have any difficulty in remembering the animal, dangerously dark, his long thick coat of black and garnet fur moved like small waves on a lake, and his fangs glowed in the moonlight much like her skin did. She caught the sharp golden light in his eyes when he looked up at her as they raced through the wood. She could swear he smiled at her, testing her. Shyne never felt the kind of freedom she did running with him.

She looked for him every night, even sensed his presence, but he never showed himself to her again. Faer Folk were known for their imagination, but she still believe he was as real as herself.

Shyne pushed the memory away, to think on more pressing problems.

She refused to acknowledge the failure of the love spell her friend Lillia made for her. As Lillia said, spells have a way of working when they are meant to find love. Of all people, Lillia and her new husband Georgiano would know about spells. Oh to be so in love with another. Lillia said that if Shyne believed then the spell could still bring her lover to her. Yet, Shyne failed to see anyone or feel any love sparks.

Maybe she should speak with Electra, Alex told her that his wife knew more about magic than most witches, but they didn’t really know each other. When Alex offered Shyne the job as his hostess at the couple’s new restaurant Garnet Moon she almost turned him down. The idea of moving to a new place terrified her. Shyne was happy managing the small Bistro for him in Houston. She’d learned years ago how to hide her identity, though Alex and his mother knew her heritage. Change always affected her in strange ways until she could once again control her emotions and halt the side effects.

Shyne did a giggling somersault over the memory of her move here. Alex told her that Spellfire was different and she would love it here, she often wondered if he knew how much she cherish her new life at Spellfire. To be free to be herself, without fear, what a new and thrilling experience and one reason this upheaval over her season became so disruptive to her.

The other Faeries actually teased her today at Sinful Sundaes, calling her a prude and saying she was no fun. Over the years, hiding became Shyne’s specialty and focus. Since coming to Spellfire, she still didn’t join in with their foolery so they usually stayed clear of her. They learned how painful her Faer sparks could be when crossed. None of them let her explain that they were a self defense mechanism like points on a star. But all Faeries could tell when it was safe to play tricks and tease, especially one of their own. Shyne left Sinful without finishing the special Stardust Sundae that Electra made just for her. She was so upset that she nearly disappeared in the crowd because of her sadness, something she must never let happen.

Moon-Faeries were rare, Shyne being the only one in Spellfire, but she remembered her mother’s warnings that she must never let her moon energy fall below a certain limit or she could disappear for life!

Sadness could be a Moon-Faer's most dangerous enemy and being loveless suddenly became Shyne’s largest danger. If only she could ask another Moon-Faer about her dilemma, but even in such a special place as Spellfire no other Moon-Faeries ever appeared. Her own family was lost to her many years ago.

In a swirling blaze of light, she threw off the thoughts of her family, knowing she mustn’t relive the pain that could cost her, her life. No, Shyne prided herself on being a survivor, she just hoped she wasn’t the only Moon-Faer left in the world.

Malaci watched as waves of silver mist flew out from the iridescent  beauty in the moonlight. As she slowed her wings down, a million specks of the moon’s silvery light clung to every seductive curve the woman possessed, and as if each tiny jewel could be felt, the beauty moved in an erotic dance to capture the energizing light.

As if her magic reached beyond the luminescent circle Malaci felt himself lean forward, the desire to join her clawed at him. Shyne’s power could be very strong and he reminded himself not to give in to her allure. Yet, for just a moment, he wondered how she would react if he did show himself, un-camouflage his presence from the underbrush. How could any Demvir be proud of hiding in the bushes!

A slight noise to her left slowed her air twirling, her wings moved so fast that she hovered in mid-air as if standing on land. Titling her head, she listened to see what might have made the noise. More than once she felt someone watching her here in her secret place, not even her best friend in Spellfire, Harpy Collins, knew that she came here to replenish her strength with each full moon. Multiple full moons were an added bonus for Shyne since moving to Spellfire.

There, she heard it again, her nose twitched as it caught the scent of man, no, animal. “Both…” the whispered truth barely passed her lips as she spun about to confront the intruder. Her beast came back, she couldn’t understand why he refused to show himself. “Come out beast. Show yourself, it is not polite to take sneak peeks of others.”

Her sharp sight scanned the area for movement. Whoever stayed hidden seemed to know she could see the slightest of movement in the moonlight. Unlike most normals or other residents of Spellfire, Shyne did all things better at night. Give her a full moon and her powers were at their fullest.

Right now, she didn’t like the idea of having someone watching her, even her beast, and stay hidden. Most Moon-Faeries, her parents included, were lost forever to those that coveted their powers.

Her fingertips sparked in warning just before she shot up into the night sky, deciding to play it safe and escape. She should report the incident to the Spellfire Sheriff, but what could he do without a description. He couldn’t very well arrest an animal.

She stayed over the clearing for a while to see if anyone came out of hiding. When all remained still, she left to head home, knowing that she would need to be more cautious. The thought of hiding again sent a violent shiver through her wings.

* * * *

Malaci watched as Shyne flew off leaving a trail of sparks in her wake. Her warning well taken, even if he knew she couldn’t truly hurt him. He watched her come here many times over the last few months. Tonight being the first time she sensed him. He knew better than to come this close when her powers were so fresh.

At first, he came to see what the new resident might be up to at night in Spellfire Woods, as the Sheriff it was his job. Then he told himself he came to protect her from any other seeing eyes. The truth hit Malaci from the first moment he saw the bewitching Shyne. He wanted the demure, fragile Faer like no other female. No woman made his Demvir blood boil out of control like Shyne. Every delicate move, each enchanting flight she took in the moonlight became his undoing.

He stretched out of his cramped position, shaking away the stiffness of remaining in one place too long. He’d do it again to see Shyne, knowing she would never let him get close to her any other way. Demvir and Faeries rarely mixed company, even in Spellfire.

The thought of keeping company with the likes of Shai and her cohorts made his fur bristle and until now he didn’t understand his brother Damien’s fondness for the troublesome Shai. But Shyne was a Moon-Faer and not like most Faer folk. He’d never once witnessed her playing tricks on anyone, or use her powers to seduce an unknowing date. Malaci couldn’t say if she’d even been on a date with anyone since arriving in Spellfire.

Electra proved little help in finding out anything about Shyne. His sister actually teased him the other day over his off-handed question about her.

“Does she interest you little brother?”

“I’m always curious about new residents of Spellfire, Electra, you know that.”

“Oh right, the job and all.”

Her laughter made his shoulder fur bristle beneath his uniform. “Forget I asked, okay.”

“Oh little brother, you know I love you.” She stayed his leave from Sinful with her sisterly smile. “She is beautiful isn’t she?”

Malaci couldn’t swallow the rumbling growl low in his chest. He could tell by the lift of Electra’s right eyebrow that she heard it. He left the shop on the lilt of his sister’s laughter.

He felt his blood begin to drum over his thoughts of Shyne’s beauty. Every opportunity he could find he watched her. Knowing she turned away any male advances didn’t ease his torture and she received too damn many at the Garnet! Malaci decided not to try, he would rather hold to hope that she wouldn’t reject him than to have it happen.

Many times, he tried to understand his attraction to the whimsical creature. Since her arrival, he noticed that her moonlight skin practically shimmered, now. When she walked down the sidewalks, every male head would turn her way to watch the beautiful exotic Moon-Faer. Once, when he saw her laughing at something his brother-in-law Alex said she began to glow in an unbelievable welcoming light that begged him to come closer and touch her erotic essence. Still, he kept his distance, even when Alex wanted to introduce him to her at Garnet Moon’s opening, Malaci managed to avoid coming face to face with Shyne.

They did have one major part of their lives in common. Malaci looked up at the brilliant moon now high in the night sky. Yes, both their lives revolved around the cycle of the moon. The moon actual led him to Shyne. He smiled over the cherished memory of that night.

His Demvir blood rose to a fever pitch on that night with the first full moon. Malaci shed his clothing and let the himself shift to run free in the woods. To his surprise, he soon had company in Spellfire Woods running with him, only above him in the night sky!

Every turn he made she whisked through the air, racing with him on the ground as if they were in a great race. He took her on a wild ride that went on for miles and she matched his pace without tiring. As he slowed, he could hear the soft beat of her wings dropping in speed that kept her right above him. She glowed a soft rose color that teased his hot blood in a peculiar way. If she’d come closer, he would have caught the wild Faer and shown her how a Demvir tamed a Faer. As if she could sense his desire her lyrical laughter rustled through the pines as she twirled through the night sky and away from Malaci in his wild form.

He growled over the memory and licked his fangs, wishing he could catch the illusive Shyne.

Troubled Brews 

by

Mae Powers 

Spellfire, present day, July.

Chapter One

Katspell Callaway-Trinkets left the tri-bedroom, upper story townhouse above the Trinkets Book Shop and headed down the stairs that led to the main floor, a small box of books carried in her hands. She walked by the drinking area for morning espresso at the small café near the back of the store, some regulars mingled over newspapers, mail, and their daily schedule books before they took off to work. A few waved hi to her, and she nodded and smiled faintly in their directions, before going back behind the main, semi-circular counter at the front of the store.

She immediately put the books down on a shelf along the wall behind the mystical symbol, decorated checkout counter. Afterwards, she turned to help her summer clerk with the small line of people at the counter ready to have their books, potions or gifts rung up. The sales went quickly and Chissie left to go take her morning break. The eighteen year old senior was the niece of the town librarian Lillia West-Giovanni. She worked until early afternoon, long enough for Katspell or her husband Jeff to get a break. Like her studious aunt, the girl worked hard.

Thankfully, the girl took after Lillia, she bounced back pretty well when her boyfriend dumped her earlier that year. Just the same way that Lillia bounced back from her demotion of town head librarian to junior librarian. Of course, Lillia quit and she and her husband Geo went to work for the Witch’s Academy in their extensive library. The town was still in an uproar that Mayor Perry Normil put Frieda Faraday in Lillia’s place. Stupid bozo had been tripping over himself lately. Definitely, the Dead Librarians Society wouldn’t vote for him another term.

She started emptying the box in between helping people around the shop. Ereus came in to help her, by bringing down some other boxes of books for her to go through. After a few hours, Katspell put out the last shipment of books on the shelves. When Chissie returned to work, Katspell went over to Sinful Sundaes for a break and a shake. She didn’t worry about the shop, since her other new employees, the wizard Takor and his wife Devina were watching the shop so she could take the much-needed break. She sat at one of the booths after getting her order from Harpy, and sipped on the cool Vanilla Cinnamon creamy concoction while her eyes wondered to look outside the shop’s big window.

The window overlooked the newer and older ends of the town square, and the additions the Goblin and Gremlin construction crew did to improve the town and its outer laying areas. The group from the Troll Bridge and Builder’s Association were talented, hardworking individuals and dwelling within Spellfire for a very long time. They built buildings that lasted. Just after Takor and Devina’s magic work-lab zapped into Trinkets, Katspell called on the Troll Bridge Group to help spell-build the old enchanted lab into a basement. They efficiently synchronized it with the rest of the upper house, melding all the necessary walls ceilings and such that needed doing.

No matter what someone or a group wanted built, the Trolls mastered the plans of having it done. The Gremlins and Goblins made sure the job came to a satisfying completion for all concerned, under the Trolls guidance. All anyone needed to get a place constructed consisted of a bit of patience, some extra charm, and a lot of currency or bargaining power. Fortunately, the Association owed the Trinkets a favor and the cost wasn’t astronomical in magic coins or standard American currency, for improving the new basement-lab addition. Of course, she no longer had her 12th century compendium on the history of European Trolls and their kindred. But then Jeth said it needed to be with the main Troll boss and his family.

Though she could sense and talk to a book with her powers of empathy, her husband of over twenty years, Jeth, inherited an uncanny affinity for knowing where certain books were meant to be or who should own them. She found it often amusing that Jeth could talk to books because they’d sometimes follow him around if they desperately sought their owner. Or in their niece Jaleena’s case, someone needed uncursing in connection with the book. Katspell had been fond of the Troll history book, but it willingly went to the Trolls. Eventually it would come out why the book needed to go to the Trolls. So along with giving up the prized book and having them return the favor, neither she nor Jeth or any of their family owed the Troll Association anything for their work on the shop’s recent repairs and additions.

Blowing her red-gold bangs out of her face, she tilted her head in thought as something caught her eye. The Wizards and Witches singles night came just after the Fourth of July, and she saw one of the group’s longest members putting up the signs around town. When a special event took place they liked putting the signs about town. This time, they planned more than just singles mixing or friends gathering for an evening social. They were all gathering to give her niece Jaleena, and nephew-in-law-to-be Ereus, a gen-witch, a celebration party. The two were getting married the following weekend.

Trinkets and Nightshades would be crowded that night. Nightshades, the erotic boutique and unusual potion shop that she and Jeth opened just before Valentine’s Day, became a quick favorite. Jaleena and Ereus would run it for them, along with the ghost wizard Synkor, who put up the signs about the shindig. Even after death, that hunk stayed a confirmed bachelor. She shrugged, sipped her thick shake, and chuckled as she saw people flying by the shops across the street, some flew right through Synkor until he fussed at them and made himself corporeal.

She saw Horrible Henry zip-flying pass the ghost wizard, making some of the posters fly away. In the years before Jaleena was born, Henry didn’t hang out much at Trinkets, except on Wednesdays when the singles first started gathering there. Or to get some free Mothy Molasses bars, she and Jeth ordered from Sinful Sundaes for the Wednesday social. That’s the day Trinkets had its weekly sales presentation socials, but during the afternoon and not at night like the singles gala.

Both places were booming. Marion, her sister-in-law came home with her husband early in January. Rafe, as they all called Marion’s husband Jeffery Rafe Trinkets, oversaw  the opening and construction of Nightshades, along with Marion. It was one of the few lingerie, gift, and love potion places in town. Jaleena and her fiancée moved on the top floor of Nightshades just after Valentine’s Day, so that they could have their own place and be closer to work; not that living next door at Trinkets wasn’t close. Of course, there were books there too and a few other potions, over flows from Trinkets for various lovemaking potions and such, as well as books, gifts and a line of clothing that Marion designed.

Marion became quite a collector of sassy and sexy apparel during hers and Rafe’s travels. Sparks still flew between those two, even after well over twenty-five years of marriage. They were getting tired of the traveling and talked with her and Jeth about opening the sister shop. It would be good to have the family back. Long ago, Katspell knew that it had been very hard at times for Rafe and Marion personally, until the day the two found out that Marion was finally expecting a child, one the couple never thought they would have.

Katspell often wished she and Jeth could have a child, but it didn’t happen, yet the two of them were very happy with each other and their lives. Now that Marion and Rafe were coming back to stay this summer for good, it would give Jeth and her some time to take longer vacations and travel outside of Spellfire more often. It’s what the two of them were hoping to do one day, once Marion and Rafe came back to stay. With Jaleena getting married and hopefully having kids eventually, Rafe and Marion couldn’t wait to get back into Spellfire.

At one time, Katspell grew wistful about the situation, but Jaleena seemed like a daughter to her and Jeth. She took after her father in with the blue eyes instead of olive green like Marion’s, but she had her mother’s dark blonde hair and angelic appearance. She’d stayed with them during school holidays or summer vacation when she was little or didn’t want to travel with her parents. Jaleena gave them many hours of joy and filled a niche in their lives.

As Katspell sipped leisurely on the last of her shake, thinking about her niece, she smiled and reflected on past events. Jaleena had been a joy not only to her and Jeth, but also to her parents. It wasn’t always easy on Marion and Rafe. On the day that Marion found out she became pregnant, troubled brews happened all over town, but her mind dwelled on a few of the most memorable ones, such as when Frightful Frieda’s broom shop burnt down...

Grand Design

By

Melanie Gilbreath

Chapter One

Xerxes Vervain Samhianwine III did not consider himself evil. True, as an insomnia fairy, he did deprive others of their sleep. But that was business, and as his grandfather, Xerxes Vervain Samhainwine the first always said; “Insomnia is a serious business.”  It was an adage Xerxes the third lived by.

He adjusted the cuff of his bespoke shirt and straightened his tastefully striped tie. He’d  run off a tribe of dust bunnies that took up residence in his summer home, making him peevish and ill-tempered. He fought the same thing every year. It must be the Texas heat that made the things breed like, well, bunnies.

He blamed People of course. No one ever sweeps under the bed anymore.

Which reminded him, there was a new person staying here he wanted to take a gander at. As a card carrying member of the National Organization of Sleep Loss Providers or NO SLP, Xerxes felt it behooved him to take every opportunity. He did have a quota to fill after all.

Slipping out from under the bed and adjusting the dust ruffle fastidiously behind him, he sniffed disdainfully at the mess. Half unpacked boxes were everywhere, clothing piled in haphazardly on the dresser. Books in untidy stacks. Honestly, it was a disgrace!  He adjusted the rims of his glasses and strode through the maze of items tut-tutting and clucking his tongue in dismay. Reaching the threshold of the bedroom he unfurled his wings with a crisp snap. He refused to risk scuffing his Italian loafers in this mess!

He fluttered through the house, finally making his way into what appeared to be a studio of some sort. Wonderful…an artist. Xerxes heaved an exasperated sigh, artists were the worst! They hardly slept as it was, how was he supposed to get any kind of quality deprivation with an artist? He flitted closer, there he stood, the Artist, in front of a giant slab of rock, chipping away at it with a chisel and hammer.

“NO, no, no! You are not doing it right! You stupid dipwad! I said here and here, not there and there!!!” 

A female fairy darted around the man’s head. “You are going to ruin the whole thing!!!”

Xerxies stopped cold. What a vision, what a delicate flower, what a rack! His eyes roamed lustily over the plump curves of her bottom as she bent to screech something about being an ham fisted idiot in the man’s ear. Xerxes sighed blissfully, she was absolutely perfect. Screw his quota, he was on vacation for the love of the gods! He drifted closer wanting a better view.

At that moment the fairy turned and spied him. Her brilliant green eyes narrowed. “What do you want? Can you not see I am working here?”

“My most humble apologies, I have come for the summer and your dulcet tones beckoned. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Xerxes Vervain Samhianwine III, at your service.

“I am Dazzle Honeydew-Gentlepuff. I am an inspiration fairy,” she informed him loftily. “Now scram, I have to watch him every second or he screws up.”

Xerxies nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course, I was wondering if perhaps later we might meet for a drink? I know a lovely little grove of moonflowers that have the sweetest nectar.”

This gave Dazzle pause, given that she was especially fond of moonflower nectar. It had been a while since she danced in the daisies, since she landed this assignment, in fact. She gave him a thorough once over, he was actually very handsome, in a buttoned-down-stick-up-my-ass kind of way. Her tastes usually ran to bad boys like that mudwump she dated last year, bad boys that almost always broke her heart. Maybe it was time to trade up. “Alright.”

“Wonderful, I shall meet you in front of the humming bird feeder at moonrise.” Xerxies fluttered closer and kissed her dainty hand.

Dazzle giggled and her wings turned a delicate shade of pink. She waved and returned to her task of berating the human male.

Xerxies flew back to his bachelor pad under the bed, wanting to make sure he had plenty of time to set the proper mood. Romance is in the air. And soon to be in his bed, bwahahahahah!

* * * *

One week later

Stephen Mackenzie tossed his chisel to the floor and kicked the slab of granite that had became the bane of his existence. He just could not understand what the problem was, last week he woke each morning with a fire in his belly, as if his art were screaming at him to create, and now, nothing. Silence.

He sighed and looked at the clock, his mother would be here any moment. Great. Stephen loved his mother, he really did. But every time she visited she treated him to a in-depth report on her relationship with Trevor, the twenty-two year old college dropout his mother was currently seeing. He understood his mother’s need for companionship, Stephen’s father passed away five years ago, but he did not want to know how good Trevor’s ass looked in a pair of jeans. It gave him the willies.

He bent and picked up his chisel carefully examining the edge to make sure he didn’t damage it when he threw it. If he failed to get his shit together soon he would be  screwed. His show was in less than a month, and this piece was to cap off the theme of the show. He laid the chisel on his work bench and propped his butt on a high stool. The sculpture was half done, fluid and graceful arches and hollows gave way to rough stone and shapelessness. It felt so strange, the piece spoke to him so clearly until just a few days ago. He snorted at that understatement. The piece screamed, nagged and berated him every waking moment and most of his sleeping ones. He ran his hand through his hair tiredly. Maybe if he managed more than a couple hours of sleep a night he would be able to focus. But sleep was eluding him as thoroughly as his inspiration seemed to be.

He padded through his house on bare feet Stephen needed to get cleaned up and find something to wear. Mother would surely insist on having lunch out considering the meager offerings  in his refrigerator he was in whole-hearted agreement.

He grimaced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and scratched his week old beard, that has to go. If Mother caught him looking this unkempt he’d never hear the end of it. He shucked his clothing and stepped into the shower, turning the cold water on full blast. The icy shock usually served to clear the cobwebs from his brain and got him in the creative mindset. Lately, not even that worked.

Shivering he adjusted the temperature to something more comfortable and took care of business. Drying himself off he admitted he felt much better. Tucking the towel around his waist he walked into his bedroom

“Mother!”  He screamed like a girl.

The woman sitting on the edge of his bed jumped and gave a little squeak. “Honestly, Stephen, you don’t have to yell, I am sitting right here!”

“I know, that is why I am yelling. What are you doing here? I might have been naked!” Stephen’s hand went to the precarious knot that held the towel at his hips.

She waved her hand airily. “Please, it’s nothing I have not seen before. I pushed you out of my birth canal, you were naked then you know.”

“Gah!” Stephen felt his left eyelid twitch in the familiar tic that accompanied visits from Magnolia. “Mother, please!”

“Oh all right,” she stood and smoothed the skirt of her elegant linen suit. “I shall wait in the living room for you to get dressed. If I can find it. You have nothing to sit on except this bed. When are you going to unpack?”

Stephen opened his closet door and used it as a shield. He still held a death grip on his towel, he was not taking any chances. Too many strange and weird things happen around his mother. Right now he had enough on his shoulders without adding the trauma of flashing the old jolly roger at his mother.

“Mom, go into the studio, there are some seats there. Let me get dressed in peace.”

“Very well, I know when I am not wanted.” With a injured sniff she sashayed out of the room.

Stephen banged his head against the doorjamb. Great, just great!  Not only was he a no-talent hack, he turned into a terrible son as well, and one without any clean underwear. This week just got better and better.

Clothes Minded

By

Karen Rose

 “Cosmina. Your guests are waiting.” Luca del Costa stood in the doorway of the small room, arms folded across her chest. Making an impatient sound under her breath, she crossed to where her daughter was standing. “What is the problem?”

 “Nothing, Mother,” she lied, avoiding her gaze by turning to look in the full-length mirror. “I just need a moment to myself, that’s all.” Yes, just a moment before spending eternity with a bland, weak-willed man who couldn’t find her clitoris with a state-of-the-art GPS. Her hands began to shake again and she balled them into tight fists. God, why had she let her mother talk her into this? She took a deep, relaxing breath, unclenching her hands to run them over the smooth silk of her custom-made Carolina Herrera wedding gown. There was nothing like couture to soothe the savage bride.

The thin line of her mother’s mouth tightened, and Cosmina was certain that, if not for the Botox, the rest of her face would be fixed in that formidable glare she remembered from her childhood. “I will tell Paul to be here in five minutes to walk you down the aisle. I assume you will be ready at that time.” It wasn’t a question. Her mother never asked questions; she simply issued directives and expected those around her to follow them.

Luca’s pale blue eyes swept over Cosmina, giving her a critical once-over. “Pull up your gown in the front. You are getting married, not auditioning to be a Las Vegas showgirl.” That said, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind her,

Cosmina breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her mother always had this effect on her. The Wicked Witch of the South in a St. John suit and Chanel heels, that was Luca del Costa. As a small child, Cosmina’s dearest wish was that a house would fall on her mother. In a town like Spellfire, Texas, that was not out of the realm of possibility.

 A glance at her watch told her there were only four minutes left before her stepfather would be there. Four minutes of freedom. She looked in the mirror again. The hairdresser, hired by her mother, fixed her hair in a classically elegant updo, which didn’t suit her at all. It looked awful and she hated it. With the seconds ticking away, she pulled the ornate headpiece out of her hair and began dismantling the ridiculous tower that was her hair. What could Luca do, tackle her as she walked down the aisle and demand that the hairdresser put it back the way it was? It was her hair, damn it, and she was going to wear it the way she always wore it.

 Finally, all the hairpins and clips were out, and her hair was free. It tumbled in soft waves past her shoulders, just the way she liked it. A slight breeze came in from the open window, blowing several errant strands back from her face. The need to breathe fresh air took her over to the window. She stuck her head out, feeling the hot Texas sun on her face. Less than a minute left. Her always punctual stepfather would be knocking at the door any second now. Paul was even more terrified of Luca and wouldn’t risk displeasing her by giving Cosmina even a nanosecond of extra time.

She pushed the window all the way up, leaning out even farther. Hundreds of cars dotted the church grounds, all these people were here to see her marry John Worthington of the Dallas Worthingtons. Her stomach churned at the thought. Oh, he was a nice enough guy, but there was nothing to him. No fire, no passion, no juice! A carbon copy of Paul, he jumped when she said jump, and never argued with her. Cosmina was sure that there were many women who would love a complacent, malleable man like that, but she wasn’t one of them.

In her opinion, they just didn’t make men the way they used to. Men who would walk through fire for their women, or at the very least, not be able to iron a pair of pants better than she could. John’s idea of a perfect day was picking out curtains for the guest room, or something equally dull.

 A timid knock at the door broke into her thoughts. Oh God, it was time. “Just a second!” she called out frantically.

Her eyes darted around like a pinball before alighting on something familiar. Holy shit, it was her car! She forgot that John drove it to the church. There it sat, parked by the side entrance, strangely not blocked in by the fleet of vehicles her guests arrived in.

 “Cosmina? Your mother’s getting anxious,” came Paul’s muffled voice. She heard the door handle turning, and breathed a prayer of thanks for the ancient mechanism. The door had been sticking all day; only her mother seemed to be able to open it at will. Even inanimate objects obeyed Luca del Costa, she thought.

 Before she could stop herself, Cosmina grabbed the small overnight bag that held a change of clothes, her makeup case, and most importantly, her car keys. A split second of hesitation and then she did it. Dress and all, she climbed out the window. Her beautiful white satin Manolo Blahnik heels sank into the grass, making it difficult to run, but she moved as fast as she could, holding her voluminous dress up with one hand. Even in her rush, she knew better than to let the custom-made couture drag on the ground.

The last thing she heard as she gunned the engine was the sound of her stepfather’s high-pitched whine. “Cosmina! Wait! Your mother will be furious!”

Too bad.

* * * *

She took the long route to the highway that led out of town, reveling in her freedom. After she drove well away from the church, she pressed the button that turned on her six-disc CD changer.

“What the hell?” Instead of her Snoop Dogg and Jay Z tunes, the lilting sounds of Italian opera assaulted her ears.

“What the hell?” she yelled again, nearly driving her car into a tree. Apparently, in the ten-minute drive to the church from her mother’s house, John took it upon himself to change out her rap music for his opera CD’s.

With one eye on the road, she ejected the CD drawer and one by one, plucked the offending music from their trays. Once she had all six, she hurled them out the open window, Frisbee style. Still speeding down the one-lane country road, she began rifling through her own music collection, which was currently scattered all over the passenger seat floor. The DMX CD was out of her reach, so she bent down to get it. Just as her hand closed over the jewel case, she felt the car veering to the left. Cosmina popped back up, shrieking at the sight of a giant pothole on the side of the road. She jerked the wheel, but it was too late.

“Shit!” she yelled, as the car slammed into the pothole and came to an abrupt stop. “Great! Just great!”

Grabbing her bag, she got out of the car and surveyed the damage, holding the folds of her gown well out of range. What she knew about cars could be engraved on the click wheel of an iPod Nano, but even she knew it didn’t look good. Smoke was billowing up from under the hood and the entire front end looked dented. One tire was flat, and the other kept spinning at an odd angle. At least nothing had happened to her or to her five thousand dollar Carolina Herrera wedding gown. Unbelievably, not even one seed pearl was missing from the bodice, which was still an immaculate white. She stepped away from the vehicle now belching black clouds of smoke. Although this road wasn’t one of Spellfire’s main thoroughfares, she felt certain that if she remained here much longer, somebody would find her. That’s the way of it in a small town, especially one like Spellfire. It was time to call for help.

She moved to the other side of the road, cleared her throat, and called out, “Mappa mundi!” Feeling slightly ridiculous, she repeated the phrase two more times.

Semaphoros fairies were awfully particular about their work, and if you didn’t summon them just right, they often refused to show themselves. Looking around anxiously, she wondered if she shouldn’t find somewhere less conspicuous to wait. But that would mean venturing off the blacktop and onto the dusty, tumbleweed-covered ground. Her Manolos could not withstand such treatment.

Suddenly, there was a flash of pink light, and the semaphoros fairy appeared, looking none too pleased. Clad in a light pink skirt made of delicate tulle and a tiny halter top that read, “Baby Phat Jeans” in rhinestones across the front, she fluttered in the air, looking like a tricked-out butterfly. Bubble-gum colored hair billowed around her, falling past her gossamer wings to her little ankles. “You bellowed?” she asked dryly. Semaphoros fairies were always female, for who in their right mind would go to a man for directions?

“I need help.” Cosmina drew herself up to her full height of 5’9” and brushed off the skirt of her gown.

The fairy sighed. “Dear. I am a semaphoros fairy. We do not help. We give directions to lost travelers when those directions are asked for in the form of a question. Are you new at this or what?” Her pink and silver wings beat against the air in frustration.

Cosmina ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. Negotiating with fairies was a delicate matter. “Is there a garage around here?” She’d lived in Spellfire all her life, but dealing with the vagaries of automobiles was not something she ever did herself.

“Approximately five hundred of them. You really need to be more specific.” She shook her head, causing clouds of pink glitter to fall from her hair.

“Is there a place where a person could go to get her car fixed within walking distance of where I am currently standing?” she asked through gritted teeth. Magical creature or no, there would be hell to pay if any of that pink glittery crap got on her dress.

“Quantum Mechanics. Just down the road a piece. You can’t miss it.” The fairy pointed straight ahead, and a flash of pink light illuminated the path. “You see? Follow the yellow brick road, to coin a phrase.” She tittered with laughter.

Hoisting her duffle bag over her shoulder, Cosmina thanked the fairy and tracked the pink light on the route that would take her to Quantum Mechanics.

* * * *

The busty blonde smiled and then pulled off her top in one smooth motion. “I don’t have enough money to pay for the repairs,” she said in a breathy voice, displaying a luscious set of perfect 36 DD’s. “Maybe we could work out another kind of deal?” Pert nipples stood at attention, making Cade’s mouth water.

“I think we can come to some sort of agreement.” He set down his toolbox and stood, brushing off his coveralls. “But first, I need to see everything you’ve got to offer.” His eyes trailed downward to her skimpy denim shorts, which she quickly unzipped and stepped out of, leaving her completely naked. “Oh, yeah, I can work with that.” His cock hardened instantly; a shaven pussy did that to him every time.

He shucked off his cable uniform and the girl immediately sank to her knees, taking his hard cock into her mouth. Her tongue moved in slow circles up and down his shaft, making him moan with pleasure. Then she moved lower, licking his balls lightly as her hands kneaded his cock. Cade pushed with his hips, butting gently against her mouth, making his intention clear. She smiled up at him, then took his entire cock into her mouth, sucking it hard. Christ, it had been a long time since he’d been with a girl that knew how to give a good blow job. He felt his balls tighten up and closed his eyes, putting one hand on the back of the girl’s neck to guide her. “That’s it, baby, take it all.” Shit, maybe this one deserved an extra month of free premium channels.

 Reaching down, he massaged the girl’s full breasts, rubbing his thumbs against her rigid peaks. He felt her moan reverberate around his cock as she increased the frenzy of her movements. Cade felt his release building, his breath coming in harsh pants. In the back of his mind, a sudden banging noise made him frown in confusion. What the hell was that? Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed himself farther into the wet confines of the girl’s mouth. But the banging noise didn’t stop. “Shit!”

The girl sat back on her haunches, letting him slide out of her mouth. She opened her mouth, her lips forming the words, “What’s wrong?” but all Cade heard was, “Hey! Open the door!” Confused, he shook his head again. The girl, the room, the cable uniform, all faded away.

He opened his eyes and found himself on the sofa, in his own apartment. The busty blonde and her broken television set were nowhere to be seen. His television, however, was still blaring. On the screen was a scene very similar to the one he had just played out in his mind, only this cable guy was currently bringing the money shot. Damn Spellfire and their magical crap! All that supernatural energy was constantly wreaking havoc on his electrical system. Recently, the only stations that played on his television were of the soft porn variety, which made for some extremely interesting daydreams. Just yesterday, as he napped on the couch, he’d dreamt he was the principal of an elite girls’ private school. The nubile student body gave a whole new meaning to the term, ‘headmaster.’ He grinned at the memory, even though his cock still throbbed with need. If only that blasted knocking hadn’t started up just as he’d been about to come. Speaking of which, there it was again.

“Damn!” It was a Saturday evening, for crying out loud. Didn’t people know he was closed?

“This better be a serious fucking emergency,” he growled, stomping down the stairs to the door. Most people around here knew better than to bother him, especially after business hours. Clad only in a pair of faded jeans, he flung open the door to see a gorgeous brunette wearing a wedding dress. A very low-cut wedding dress at that.

“I don’t remember ordering a stripper,” he said, his eyes on the creamy swells of her breasts. Was he still dreaming? He pinched himself under the arm, just to be sure, but she was still standing there, looking pissed. Too bad.

The woman’s blue eyes narrowed. “Excuse you? Who in the hell do you think you are?”

“A man whose Saturday evening you just interrupted,” he replied, a dark scowl decorating his hard features. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sheaf of bills. “Unless, of course, you’re interested in earning fifty dollars the hard way.” With a harsh laugh, he moved out of the way just in time to avoid being kicked by one of her ridiculous, pointy-toed shoes. “Easy, lady, I’m only kidding.”

“My name is Cosmina, not ‘lady‘. And my eyes are up here,” she informed him with a glare. “Well? Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open or are you going to fix my car?”

Beautiful or not, Cade Valeray didn’t put up with attitude like that from any woman. Dragging his eyes up to her face, he glowered at her for a long moment. Then he did what no man had ever done to Cosmina del Costa. He slammed the door in her face.

In The Hot Zone

 by

 C. D. Reese

 CHAPTER 1

She wanted a beer. No, strike that, she told herself. She wanted something strong to scald her pipes as it went down, while she lay in a vat of ice. Alex kicked the tire of her pick up truck and limped toward the front door of the juke joint looking establishment. At least her pain in the ass Ford had the decency to break down in front of a bar.

Given the way her life turned out over the past 6 months, having her radiator fry up on her in a Texas town, in the middle of summer, seemed par for the course. The only consolation came knowing the heat didn’t make her hip burn like a sunuvabitch. The delay would cost her more than money. She had enough of that.  She didn’t have time to cancel a hard to get appointment with the orthopedic specialist in Houston. If push came to shove...

Casting the law breaking thoughts from her mind, she walked into the bar called Mischief Mike’s and felt the atmosphere smack her hard, head to toe. She could feel every sound wave from the thrashing speed metal song. Smoke from cigars and cigarettes wrapped around her like a cloak. The smell of stale beer and crushed peanut shells assailed her senses.

The biggest shock came when she did a sweep of the joint with her eyes. She blinked hard and curled her hands into fists, grinding them over her closed eye lids. When she peeked again, the same sights were there, and most of the patrons were looking at her like she was on some sort of menu.

Alex felt like she stepped into a sci-fi/paranormal convention. No sign outside the establishment heralded costume night. Blue skinned women lining the stage where the band performed wore indecent clothes that flowed like water over their bodies. They undulated like waves rolling in and drawing back on a sandy beach. They were enraptured by the four band members who looked like they were all auditioning for the role of the big bad wolf.

The bizarre sights refused to stop. Little gnomish creatures dressed in biker leather and sporting long grey braids down the middle of their backs looked up at her grinning lecherously. Spectral figures floated over to her and queried her with their translucent faces. The strangest sight to her were the three hulk sized men decorated in glittering green scales over their bare flesh, licking their lips and elongated canines with forked red tongues.

Nudging forward, she planted herself on a stool at the bar. The man behind the long oak barrier seemed to be the only human looking person there. Normalcy, she thought as she asked for a beer. He looked like the grizzled, grey haired epitome of a cowboy straight from a Louis L’Amour novel.

When he returned, she asked if there was any garage open that could take a look at her truck, or if there might be someplace she could pick up a rental car. She needed to get to Houston. He shook his head no as he looked over her shoulder. The subsequent frown on his face set her on edge.

“We ain’t lookin’ for no trouble here, boys. Don’t even think about it.” Alex turned as the bartender spoke and saw the painted up green men standing in front of her with slick smiles on their faces.

Trouble exploded a moment later. The tallest of the trio decided to hit on her and she clobbered him back. She never liked her personal space being invaded. When it came with a foot long pencil thin flickering tongue, sweeping up her cheek, she let instinct and training take over.

Taking Alex’s lead, the rest of the patrons in the place jumped in, starting their own sort of bar room blitz. While she did her best to get free of forked tongues and frisky hands, fists flew and chairs were smashed all around the place.

She managed to get off a few good blows, clipping the underside of one lizard boy’s jaw, evoking a howl from him as he bit his tongue nearly clean through. Another she caught behind the knees with a leg sweep. When he went down, she stomped on his man bits leaving him writhing in agony. The last proved to be the greatest amount of trouble. He tagged her injured hip and caught her in his arms when she started going down.

Just as her mind began to process ways to escape the iron grip her captor held her in, an unholy roar resounded through the entire bar, rattling more than just the glass bottles on the shelves behind the bartender. Motion ceased in everyone but Alex. She took the opportunity that left the majority of the people stunned into stillness to bite down on the man’s arm and get free.

When everyone started moving again, it was more to make way for the source of the eerie sound than anything else. The crowd parted and Alex saw darkness and every sensual sort of sin stomping toward her, his solid black eyes glinting with anger and something else she didn’t dare put a finger to. The look stirred heat inside her that pooled low in her belly and sparked the beginnings of a hunger she never bargained for.

“Close up the bar, Sam. We’re done for the night.” His voice, laced with a seductive Cajun baritone lilt, lifted and filled the area. She heard groans and protests and ignored them. He didn’t look away to see if his order would be met. For a moment, he stared her down with his piercing onyx gaze, then swept her off her feet. Literally. As if she were a sack of flour, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out a back door to the hoots and cheers of the brawlers inside.

* * * *

Alex knew she should have been swinging, or at the very least protesting. It was pure insanity swirling in her mind to be so passive. Rarely one to indulge in frivolous, romantic notions, delight instead replaced the urge to smack down as she hung loosely over heated flesh covered granite. The man felt like he was made of stone. Every inch her body came in contact met with well honed, muscular resistance. There was not an ounce of give.

Betrayer that her starved libido became, the idea of being ravished in an alleyway by tall, dark and dangerous set tingles coursing through her body. When he slid her down the length of his body to set her on her feet again, she made no sudden move to step back from him. He felt too damn good, and looked even better. For a long moment, she stared up at him, studying the raw, planes of his face. He bore rough angles, the slight crook to his nose, a small scar splitting an eyebrow. Thick, lashes framed his bottomless, dark gaze.

Raising a hand up, she brushed fingers over his hard set lips. When was the last time she even wanted to kiss a man? She couldn’t recall any time in her life that a man made her shove logic aside to be replaced by a desire to be stirred into a wild, wanton creature needing to be fucked. Not made love to, not pet softly; she wanted to be screwed into oblivion, screaming out as she was shot into orbit on the power of a mind blowing orgasm.

Her fingers lingered on his mouth and she watched as his eyes narrowed slightly, the slightest hint of flames starting to flicker in the depths of his odd eyes. Danger. She stood flirting with barely leashed danger.

“Careful what you do, ‘tite ange. I don’ like being toyed with.” His whisky rough, deep south baritone vibrated against her finger tips and the sensations spiraled down her arm and through her entire body.

Little angel. Devilish urges swelled inside her with her body still pressed against his, She aroused him. The proof pressed against her belly, long and hard. Alex tried to rouse her voice of reason, but it refused to pipe up. After three years of going without even the slightest hint of real sex, her focus narrowed to one thing, one person.

“I don’t plan on it.” Her voice sounded odd in her ears. Husky and low, she fought a smile at the sex kitten purr she suddenly developed. Caution and any other reservation she might have thrown to the wind, she stood on tip toe and replaced her fingers with her lips, her kiss a clear invitation in its force.

The world blurred. He took control and dominated. She felt the roughness of heated brick against her back when he spun them around and backed her to a wall. His body pinned her there with his, leaving enough space for his strong hands to reach up and cup her breasts roughly. In unison, he pinched her aching erect nipples and earned a surge of her body against his.

To a tempo set by the heavy pounding of her heart, she rocked her hips against his. A feverish, illogical need overwhelmed her. Wetness began to pool between her thighs, the heat grew, threatening to consume her. Each rough kiss, each touch laid to her breasts, every grinding thrust of his hips, stoked her until whispers of what she wanted began to spill from her.

Her softly spoken, explicit demands made him step back and look at her with an arched brow. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare stop now.” A thread of panic laced her words. He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t leave her. Primed to relinquish all measure of control she possessed, she needed him to be the catalyst.

A lazy smile touched his lips, reflecting the wicked amusement glinting in his eyes. “Here, chere? Be sure.”

“Here, anywhere.” She nodded rapidly, resisting the desperate urge to reach out and yank him back. Her body was cooling. She wanted to be incinerated by the carnal offerings he hinted at with his bruising kisses. “Now. I don’t care.”

She shivered as he reached up and grasped a lock of her shoulder length blonde hair between his fingertips. On a tug, he bared her neck and laid a softly biting kiss at the notch of her shoulder to the notch of her neck. “Be sure,” he repeated against her skin. “Once it starts, ain’t gone finish til I say so.” His warning shot straight to her throbbing core, threatening to splinter her into her first orgasm.

Grabbing onto the closely cropped cap of hair on his head, she forced his head up. “Put up, or shut up.” She moaned in pure pleasure when he answered her back with a breath stealing kiss. A rough embrace enveloped her and she felt herself lifted off her feet, carried from their spot back inside to a staircase.

Breaking the kiss, leaving her panting for air, he issued a single command as he lowered her down. “Strip.”

The word sent a flicker of doubt through her for the first time since laying eyes on him. She watched a frown begin to start on his face and he took another step backward. Her conscience piped up at that moment and reminded her of everything she reasoned in a matter of seconds feeling that first kiss. There was no turning back, no walking away. What she started, he would finish and she’d like it.

Alex shot him a sexy, defiant look. She tugged her plain white cotton tee-shirt off and tossed it at him. Her legs nearly gave way when she watched him press the material to his nose and inhale deeply. The fire that danced more wildly in his eyes spurred her on and her sandals and jeans were next to go. She offered him no finesse, no sultry strip tease act. When she finally stood nude before him, she merely crooked her finger and waited.

Time blurred, sensations spilled one on top of the other as he descended on her. His roughly growled issue to remain still became the hardest order of her life to follow. The roaming of his hands started with her breasts and slid downward until he cupped the vee between her legs and ground his palm against her clit. His demanding touch shoved her over the edge into her first release. Allowing no reprieve, he plunged three fingers into her pussy and stroked her to another.

Her third teetered on the edge of fulfillment just watching him slowly lick her juices off his fingers with his tongue. “Spread your legs, chere. I want more.” Past the point of caring that anyone could walk by and see them, she moved her feet further apart and groaned softly as he sank to his knees. His mouth latched onto her and his tongue pierced as deeply as his fingers. Alex grabbed onto his hair, rocking her hips back and forth, riding the mirroring sensation of what she hoped his thick cock would be doing to her soon. A nip of her clit and the predatory growl he released against her highly sensitized core, rocketed her to another orgasm.

Backing away and rising to his feet, she obeyed his order to lick his face clean. She greedily lapped up the mingled flavors, suckling his tongue to take in as much as she could. Having enough to satisfy herself, Alex finished her little feast and looked up at him, her newly discovered eagerness to please blatantly evident on her face. During her little feast, he’d undone the zipper to his jeans. Not a word was spoken. He pointed down to his thick, jutting cock and she obliged him with a willingness she’d think on later.

Alex studied it for a moment, deciding where to start first. She ran her fingertips over his full length, tracing the veins, toying with the slit at the tip already dotted with a glistening drop of pre come. The tip of her tongue lapped it up and she sighed at the tangy taste. Parting her lips, she tested how much of him she could take before he set the tempo. A moment later, he took complete control and drove his cock in and out of the hot depths of her mouth until he shuddered and spilled his seed down the back of her throat.

Pulling her to her feet, he slid his hands over her bottom and lifted her up. “Hang on, chere.” he warned before impaling her on his still rigid cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he impaled her over and over again, each powerful thrust evoking mewling sounds from her that grew in pitch until she cried out through another release. Relentlessly, he drove on, refusing her a reprieve.

The more she demanded, the higher her keening sounds, the more he gave her. Her body became one live wire, one constant sensation that shook her and made her juices flow. He was merciless and she reveled in it. Never before had she been taken to such a pinnacle of pleasurably painful bliss. No thoughts ran through her mind, only feeling. Colors danced wildly behind her tightly closed eyes. She imagined her body as nothing more than a mass of raw sexual energy held together only by the force of his grip on her hips.

She gave up her entire being to the myriad of sensory stimulation. The feeling of being dominated so thoroughly set more than just her body free. She found a man worthy of the gift of submission zealously guarded inside her and let him take her where he waned.

An eerie, unearthly growl close to her ear drew her back to a smattering of focus. She felt him swelling inside her, the impending sign he neared his own release. Digging her nails into his back for a tenuous hold, she opened her eyes, wanting to watch him as he came inside her. For a split second, she saw his true nature and as his teeth sank into the flesh of her shoulder, she knew what had enticed her to such a sacrificing depth.

Unable to fight the maelstrom, she rode out the last of the sensations her human body could bear, and saw shimmering mahogany skin and elongated incisors before his supernatural bite sent her into complete and total oblivion.

High Chairs and High Stakes

By

Jenna Leigh

Chapter One

       Erin looked down at the paper, then looked at it again to make sure of the address. She’d just received it this morning. A trailer? With a long sigh, she hefted her canvas tote and grumbled as she walked up the long gravel drive. Her broom sputtered out right at the old rusted mailbox, so she was hoofing it.

       The stars were bright in the clear Texas sky. She breathed in the scent of the warm summer night and smiled. Spellfire with all its assorted magical beings was her favorite place in the world.  She knocked and the door opened with an ominous creak. Oh brother, she rolled her eyes at the theatrics. Leave it to a vamp.

       The man opening the door hardly fit the role of Reinfield.  Instead, there stood a luscious slab of beefcake if ever she ever saw one. Her fingers itched to touch the raven black hair that just reached a pair of broad shoulders. The security lights surrounding the door threw his face into shadow, highlighting a pair of cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass.  Full lips set off his square jaw to perfection. Then she noticed his eyes, the color of beaten silver, shining out from under straight black brows and felt herself sinking into them. Oh yeah, a hunka burning sex.

       “Hi there, I’m Erin. I’m here to see–.” She looked down at the paper.

       “Matthias Gregory.” His voice came deep and rough with a faint British accent.

       Shivers ran up and down her spine, some of them snuck down into her undies, making her clamp her thighs together.    

       “Yeah, that’s him.” She smiled brightly, walking closer to the door. “Do you know him? Is he here?” She moved in for the kill, intending to make her moves on this stud muffin before word got out about him around town.

       “I am Matthias Gregory.”

       Well, crap, wasn’t that always the way? Here stood Mr. Beefcake Deluxe—her new employer. Fate carried one hell of a long memory, she wasn’t the only one that TP’d their yard that time.

“Sheeiit.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping dejectedly.

* * * *

       “Pardon me?” His brow quirked in disbelief. Who was this frumpy little woman with hair that looked as if she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket? Surely she wasn’t the nanny. Another thought occurred to him. “How did you get here? I didn’t hear a car.”

       “I flew.”

       “You what?” He didn’t mean to yell, but this really started to be too much. “What are you?”

       “I’m a witch, what the heck do you think?” She put her hands on her hips, drawing his eye to the waist he didn’t think existed up until now.

       The dark blue dress she wore hung sack-like on her small frame. It wasn’t a good choice, but then again, what did he of all people know about women’s fashions? Her waist was small, and when she drew in her breath to speak again, her breasts swelled. So did his cock. She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he jerked back.

       “I said, can I come in?” She tapped her toe on the doorstep impatient for his answer..

       Automatically, Matthias bowed low from the waist and swept his hand out. “Please.”

       Belatedly what she said registered and he started to shut the door on her.

       “Hey!” She slid inside and glared at him. “What’s the big idea?”

       “You’re a witch, get out.” He jerked the door back open and pointed in case she didn’t understand what he meant.

       She ignored his command and stood looking at the wall hanging that depicted a large dark castle illuminated by a big yellow moon. “I like it, the early torture chamber look is all the rage this year.” She kept walking down the hall, her backside twitching back and forth beneath the dress. “More tapestries, cool. Where in the hell is the T.V.?” The last shouted in a voice filled with outrage.

       There was a burbling noise and her voice went from angry to delighted in a split second. “Hi there, you’re a cutie.”

       Matthias growled before he hurried after her. “You, woman! Come here, I said to get out. What are you doing? Oh.”

       She sat on the rug in front of the hearth of the small fireplace and smiled at the small lump beneath the blanket. The woman leaned down and picked up the edge. ‘Boo!” There was an answering squeal of delight.

       Matthias’ eyelid twitched. What was it she said again? Oh yes, sheeit. How apropos.

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