Authors: Evangeline Anderson
“Oh!” I try to take a step back but the
shelf is in the way. I only succeed in making the various jars and tins of
dried and fresh herbs jangle against each other.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but he makes no
move to back up and give me more space. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was only
trying to help.”
“You didn’t frighten me,” I lie, lifting my
chin. He might be a hot, powerful supernatural whatever he is—I still don’t know
his species—but I’ll be damned if I let him intimidate me in my own shop. For a
moment we lock eyes. Mine widen and his narrow. It’s strangely intimate and
also disconcerting. Who
is
he?
Finally I manage to look away and sidle
farther from him, putting some space between us. “What else do you want?” My
words come out sounding rude, almost belligerent. But being this close to a
male, especially such a large, dominant alpha male, isn’t something I’m used
to.
He clears his throat and consults the list
again. “Cedar, ginseng and rue. And that should do it.”
I shake my head. “No, not that last one.
You don’t want rue.”
“Excuse me?” He gives me a displeased frown.
“You don’t even know what kind of potion I’m concocting.”
“Yes, I do,” I say, feeling calmer now that
I’m out of his general proximity. I go back behind the counter, cementing my
authority here as the witch in charge. “You’re making a divination serum,” I
tell him. “Probably to help you find your true love.”
“What?” For the first time he looks genuinely
angry. Not just pissed or snappish but really irate. “Who told you that?” he
demands, striding toward me. He has long legs so it only takes two steps to put
him right in my face. I’m glad we have the counter between us, not that it
would be much of a deterrent if he really wanted to get at me.
“No one told me,” I snap right back. “It’s
obvious. Look, you’ve got mugwort, that’s good for clairvoyance. Serpentavia
root and adder’s tongue for divination. Rosemary and cedar for purification and
love. Cinnamon for lust and ginseng for, uh, sexual potency.” I clear my
throat, feeling my cheeks get red at the intent way he is studying me.
“And?” he demands.
“And so you don’t want rue,” I say, nodding
to the shelf where the herb is kept. “Rue is for exorcisms and hexes. Adding it
to a true love divination serum would ruin the whole thing. I mean, you want to
find the girl…or guy, right?” What do I know about his sexual orientation? I
can’t even tell what kind of supe he is.
His face darkens. “It’s a female I am
searching for, I can assure you of that.”
“Okay sorry.” I hold up my hands in a
don’t
shoot
gesture. “But anyway, you want to find her and bind her to you, not
hex her. Rue would ruin a perfectly good serum.”
“And you’re sure of this, how?” He leans
over me, looking into my eyes, obviously trying to intimidate me.
I look right back and frown at him. “Besides
getting a degree in herbology and horticulture? An entire lifetime spent in
this shop learning the properties of every known herb at my mother’s and aunt’s
knees. Believe me Mr…”
“James,” he says, drawing back marginally.
“Aiden James.”
“Believe me, Mr. James,” I said, ignoring
his offered hand. “If a witch of my lineage tells you not to put rue in your love
potion, you’d better pay attention.”
“It’s
not
a love potion,” he says,
frowning at me. “None of this is about love. I just need to find the right one.”
“The right one for what?” I demand.
“None of your business, nosy little witch.”
He glares at me frostily. “You don’t need to know.”
That’s technically true but I don’t like
being insulted in my own store. Well, my family’s store but it
feels
like
mine since I run it. “That’s it.” I point to the door. “You can leave now if
you want to be rude.”
“Is that so?” He leans forward again and
bares even white teeth. To my surprise, I see two long, curving fangs where a
normal male’s canine teeth would be. Holy crap he’s a vampire! I’m stunned and
more than a little afraid—I’ve never seen one who could hide it so well. He’s
scary as shit but still, I endeavor to hold my ground.
“Yes,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking
too much. “That’s so.”
“Are you threatening to kick me out of your
store?” he demands.
“If I have to.” I may not be a powerful
vampire or even a practicing witch but we do have some pretty effective “leave
me alone” type spells already made up in aerosol cans like magical mace. They
come in handy for a lot of witches who, as I said before, like to sleep around.
Sometimes a guy gets clingy and you need an out. Of course I have no idea if
they would work on a vamp but it looks as if I’m about to find out. Slowly, surreptitiously,
I reach under the counter for an aerosol can full of the distilled warding
spell.
Aiden James still looks furious. “You
should learn to treat your customers with more respect,” he growls in a soft,
menacing voice. “Were you mine, you’d be severely punished for such a display.”
“Well I’m
not
yours,” I point out,
my hand tightening on the smooth cylinder of magical mace.
“A great pity,” he snaps. “There’s nothing
I’d enjoy more than teaching you a lesson, little witch. You’re badly in need
of some discipline.”
I can’t believe him. What kind of caveman
is he, anyway?
“Right,” I say. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll just
have to forgo that particular pleasure. And I’ll treat
you
with more
respect when you start treating
me
with more respect. This is my place
of business—don’t come in here and insult my intelligence.” I may not like
running this stupid shop but I know my stuff cold and I’ll be damned if I let
him say otherwise.
To my surprise, Aiden James suddenly stops
looking scary and vampiric and nods a little stiffly. He takes a deep breath
and his next words genuinely surprise me. “Very well, I will admit that it was
rude of me to disparage your knowledge.”
“Thank you,” I say, nodding.
“I can see you know what you’re talking
about. You’ve saved me from a very costly error, Ms…”
“Emma,” I say grudgingly. “Emma Krist.” I
wonder how he can be out in the daylight. The gold-and-onyx ring on his right
hand catches my eye again, must be magic. Heavy-duty magic to pull off
something like this. A vampire with access to high-level sorcery—great. My
little bottle of magical mace would probably bother him as much as a gnat
bothers an elephant. Slowly I release my grip on it and place both hands on the
counter.
“Very well, Ms. Krist, you’ve earned my
respect.” He looks at me speculatively. “
And
my interest. Forgive me for
being rude, I’m very preoccupied just now.” He puts out his hand in a
conciliatory gesture. “We are well met on this Sacrifice Eve.”
I don’t really want to shake his hand but I
don’t see that I have much choice. Reluctantly I hold out my hand. “Well met,
indeed,” I say, giving the ritual response. Or that’s what I start to say as
his hand closes over mine.
But as the vampire’s much larger hand
engulfs my own, I feel a strange tingle that runs down my arm and gives me a
most uncomfortable jolt. My heart starts to hammer and I jerk my hand away from
him.
What the hell…?
Aiden James must have felt it as well,
because he looks from his hand to my face and back again, as if trying to
figure out what just happened. Well if he finds out, I wish he’d let me know.
I’ve never felt such power from anyone before, not even my Aunt Cassandra and
she’s a senior witch and the mistress of our coven.
The vampire studies me, his gray eyes
narrowed. “You know,” he says at last. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“About…about what?” I ask, wishing my voice
didn’t sound quite so breathless.
“About this. All this.” He waves one hand negligently
at the packets of dried herbs strewn over the countertop. “I don’t think I need
to make this potion after all.”
“You don’t?” I look at him uncertainly. He
was so intent on his list, so insistent about the ingredients. What changed his
mind?
“No.” He shakes his head, then cocks an
eyebrow at me. “I assume I’ll see you at the Sacrifice Ceremony tonight?”
“Of-of course,” I stutter, feeling stupid.
My hand is still tingling from his touch—along with other parts of my body.
What happened? Who is he really? Then I realize what he’s asking. “Not that… I
mean, I won’t probably be around afterward,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks
heat up. “For the uh, celebration. The after party, whatever you want to call
it.”
“The orgy,” he says and there is a spark of
heat far back in his gray eyes that makes me tingle all over again. “You don’t
intend to participate?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.” I shake my head firmly.
“I don’t… I’m not…not like most witches. Besides, I have to be back here early
tomorrow.” I pat the counter, indicating my place behind it.
James looks at me speculatively. “I see.”
“So I might see you there but I won’t… I
can’t…”
“I understand.” He nods, cutting me off.
Suddenly I feel stupid. It’s not as if he
was propositioning me. Someone who looks like him? Please. He can have anyone
he wants and I’m sure once he catches sight of my lovely cousins I’ll be the
last witch on his mind.
I clear my throat and try to get back to
business. “Uh, so anyway. Are you sure you don’t need the herbs?”
“Quite sure.” He gives me one last long look
from those cool gray eyes and nods. “Good day, Emma. I’ll see you soon.”
I seriously doubt it,
I think as he heads out the door, empty-handed. As I put back the
herbs, I wonder again who he really is and what happened when we touched. But
it seems my questions are destined to go unanswered. I’m sure if I see him at
all after the Sacrifice celebration, he’ll be partying with some slender fairy
chick or chatting up some other pretty witch or were. As for the girl he was
searching for, he won’t have to look hard to find one to suit him.
I sigh softly and look at my watch. Almost
time to close up anyway. I put the shop in order and try to get him out of my
mind. But somehow he lingers there, Mr. Aiden James with his sharp teeth and
even sharper eyes. Why can’t I stop thinking of him?
“Stop fussing with your outfit. You look gorgeous.”
Lexy looks at me approvingly.
“I do not.” In fact, I have never felt more
exposed in my life. As it turns out, I had been right to be suspicious of her
offer to “hang out and have some cousin time”. What she actually wanted was to
see what I was wearing to the Sacrifice Ceremony. When I finally, reluctantly
showed her the long skirt and blouse combo, she whipped out a pair of scissors
and cut huge holes in both articles of clothing before I could stop her. Talk
about pushy!
Of course I had nothing else to wear but
Lexy had that covered. She’d brought along an outfit that wouldn’t look out of
place in a strip club. Okay, maybe it isn’t
that
extreme but it certainly
feels like that to me.
I have on a deep-blue halter top made of
some soft, silky material that twists around my neck in a loop and barely
covers my breasts. It leaves my back bare so there’s no way I could wear a bra,
which makes me feel incredibly naked.
Down below I’m wearing a peacock-dyed skirt
made of the same material. It falls in long, soft folds from my hips to my
ankles, with a slit right up the middle. It also leaves my midriff exposed. I
keep having the urge to cover my stomach—exposing my navel feels almost as
obscene as hiking up my skirt and giving everyone a good view of my pussy.
To this lovely but revealing outfit, Lexy
has added some peacock-feather earrings but no necklace. Tradition dictates
that no female eligible to be chosen as the Sacrifice should wear any jewelry
around her throat. Because if the Sovereign picks you, he has to have
unobstructed access to your neck. This is the same reason everyone is wearing
their hair up as well. Lexy has pulled mine into a modified bun at the nape of
my neck with little curling tendrils coming out to frame my face. It’s almost
pretty but no matter what ’do I’m wearing, my hair color is still mousy brown.
Lexy has pronounced my outfit “gorgeous”
and “perfect” at least two dozen times since we left my apartment and arrived
at the Glen—the large clearing on the outskirts of Tampa where all major
interspecies supernatural business is conducted. And indeed, as I look around,
I can see that what I’m wearing isn’t nearly the most revealing outfit on
display.
The fairies, keeping to themselves as
always, have on shimmery, diaphanous gowns that are practically see-through and
most of the female weres have apparently decided to treat the Glen as a topless
beach. Dryads and nyads drift around clothed in only leaves and water vapor and
the majority of my sister witches have on lingerie that could charitably be
called revealing. If you’re not feeling too charitable, however, you could just
say slutty—it amounts to the same thing.
In fact, what I have on is pretty modest,
all things considered. But I still can’t help feeling as if my nipples are too
visible through the thin fabric and wishing I could cover my bellybutton. It’s
not as if I have six-pack abs. I self-consciously wrap my arms around my bare
waist.
“Will you stop fussing?” Lexy says again,
pulling my arms away from my midriff. “You have a nice curvy waist, you ought
to show it off more often. Just look around at all the hot guys. You don’t see
any of them complaining about the view.”
She’s right about one thing at least—the
Glen isn’t exclusively filled with females. Hard-bodied males of every
supernatural persuasion are out in force, no doubt anticipating the sexual
free-for-all that will follow the selection of this year’s Sacrifice. I see
muscular weres clad in only tight, faded jeans, mysterious vamps, mostly sporting
black leather that contrasts nicely with their pale skin and shimmering,
disdainful fairy men so beautiful they’d put any human male model to shame.
There are satyrs and fauns too, their bottom halves already transformed to
animal form with hairy goat legs and thick male equipment hard and prepared for
action.
One in particular catches my attention—Emil
Sanchez, leader of the Curved Horn Satyr clan. I don’t know why but my eyes are
drawn to him, his knotted muscles covered in thick curly black hair that almost
looks like a pelt. He has a swarthy face with two stubby horns growing from his
forehead. When I look at him I smell smoke in the air and hear
screaming…begging…
Sanchez must feel my eyes on him because he
turns toward me and runs his long red tongue over his thick lips. Down below,
he cups his heavy cock and thrusts his hips crudely.
I look away quickly, feeling my cheeks
heat. The smell of smoke and the phantom screams fade away as my stomach rolls
in disgust. Ugh. What is it about him? I’ve hated him for as long as I can
remember and it’s not just because of his lewd gestures, though I can’t quite
put my finger on any other reason. I just know that I loathe the slimy satyr
with my entire being.
“Oh this is so exciting!” Lexy bubbles,
breaking my train of thought. “I wonder what the new Sovereign will look like.
I hope he’s not old and ugly.”
“All Sovereigns are old because they’re
vamps,” I point out. “How they look just depends on what age they were when
they were turned.”
“Well somebody ought to make it against the
law for them to turn any males after age forty,” Lexy grouses. “That way there
would be less chance of having to be a Sacrifice to an ugly old vamp.”
My thoughts return briefly to the vampire I
had in my store earlier that day. Aiden James looked to be somewhere around
thirty when he was turned, though ages can be difficult to judge with vamps. I
wonder if he’s here tonight as he said he would be. I’ve been surreptitiously
searching the crowded Glen for him since we got here. But so far, no luck.
Probably
already sexing up one of the fairy girls,
I tell myself sternly.
Stop thinking
about him.
But I can’t. I keep wondering how I’d feel if he saw me in this
outrageous outfit Lexy all but forced me into. What would he say? Hopefully, I
won’t have to find out.
Suddenly a trumpet sounds, calling the
rowdy crowd of supes to order. Having all these species in such a small area
with no bloodshed really is a remarkable achievement and it’s all thanks to the
vamps.
Over a hundred years ago, all the
supernatural creatures kept to themselves—a kind of self-imposed segregation.
It was considered unthinkable for them to be friends, let alone lovers. Violent
feuds over territorial rights were common and beginning to draw unwanted
attention from the human community. That was when the vamps stepped in and
declared martial law.
Figuring rightly that the violence between species
could be replaced with sex, they instituted a vamp overlord, or Sovereign, and
held the first Sacrifice Ceremony. Eligible females of every supe species were
ordered to appear in the Glen for one night of each year, on midsummer’s eve,
and offer themselves to their Sovereign. The reigning vamp would pick one
female to act as his source of power, blood and sex for the next full year—the
Sacrifice—and then declare the rest of the night a sexual free-for-all.
The females left behind felt free to
copulate with whomever males were on hand no matter their species. This
“festival of fucking”, as my Aunt Cassandra called it, has led to a dramatic
decrease in interspecies fighting. There’s a lot of crossbreeding too, though
people still mostly tend to settle down with someone of their own kind.
Of course there were those who hated the
new order but more than any other supe, vampires can be ruthless. They crushed
anyone who opposed them in the most bloody and public way possible. Other than
that, though, they seem to have a
laissez-faire
attitude toward ruling
their fellow supes. They pretty much let everyone do what they want as long as
there isn’t any killing to get the humans upset.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the
supernatural community to take note of this and, aside from a few disaffected
minorities, most people settled down and fell in line. Peace reigned and
everyone was happy, especially the vamps. They’re willing to mostly mind their
own business and make very few demands. In fact, it’s only once a year at the
Sacrifice Ceremony that we’re even reminded we have a vampire overlord. So it
works out nicely for everyone.
Well, except the Sacrifice. But I don’t
want to think about that.
“So who do you think it’s gonna be? Who is
he going to pick?” Lexy whispers to me as we all come to attention following
another trumpet blast. She’s eyeing the crowd speculatively, taking note of the
females straining eagerly forward, all filled with a strange mixture of dread
and anticipation.
I wonder if Lexy’s information about the
new Sovereign is common knowledge. I don’t remember feeling this much tension
in the air at the other Sacrifice Ceremonies I’ve attended. But of course, the
old Sovereign was just that—old. As in, well over sixty when he was turned.
Females who served him said he only wanted a sip of blood from their wrist once
or twice a day and never made any other demands on them. It was considered kind
of disappointing—at least from a gossip point of view. After all, the Sovereign
is Lord and Master of his Sacrifice. He actually legally owns her for the
entire year of her term. He can do anything he wants to her and she can’t do a
thing about it.
Just thinking about it makes me shiver.
Not as if I have anything to worry
about,
I tell myself consolingly.
After all, the
new Sovereign is…is…
My thoughts stop as I see a familiar form striding out
onto the raised stage erected in the middle of the Glen for this night. He’s
wearing tight black leather pants that cling lovingly to his long, muscular
legs and a black leather jacket to match with no shirt on underneath but there
is no mistaking that dark hair or those cold gray eyes.
“Is that him?” Lexy squeals. “Oh my
Goddess, it
is
him!” She turns to me. “Emma, isn’t that the guy who was
in the store earlier today?”
Numbly I nod. The new vampire Sovereign is
none other than Aiden James.
And for some reason he’s staring right at
me.