Magic at Midnight Read online

  “Even if the wolf saw you before,” Glory said, the sound of her voice breaking into Genevieve’s thoughts, “that’s not reason enough for him to respond so favorably to you. He acts like he adores you.” She frowned. “Hey, did you give him one of my love potions?”

  “Of course not,” Godiva said. “I think he senses that I mean him no harm.”

  At Glory’s words, a wonderfully frightening idea danced inside Genevieve’s mind, an idea she’d always discarded before—and no, she wasn’t going to injure Hunter to gain his attention (although she wouldn’t rule that out, the sexy bastard). What if she drank a love potion? What if she made herself so irresistible he wouldn’t think of turning her away? She’d never dared drink one before; there were simply too many uncertain variables.

  For one night in his arms, though, she was now willing to risk it. Risk the deflation of her inhibitions, the danger of enticing the love of a legion of other men. The danger of loving him forever and him only loving her for a single night. Hell, she already loved him and she didn’t see an end in sight for the emotion. For Hunter, she’d risk anything. Everything. Except…

  Genevieve uttered a sigh. Did she really want to win him because of a potion and not because he simply wanted her? Yes, she decided in the next instant. The stubborn man needed a push in the right direction, and she was tired of waiting for that to happen naturally. Her patience was frayed beyond repair.

  Besides, if she had to watch him flirt and laugh with another woman one more time, just one more time, she’d fly into a rampage worthy of the Desdaine triplets, the town’s most notorious troublemakers.

  Now that she had a plan, urgency rushed through her. She glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. Ten P.M. Knight Caps, Hunter’s bar, would be open for at least four more hours.

  “Will you be okay on your own?” she asked Godiva.

  “Hey, she’s not alone. I’m here,” Glory said with a pout.

  “Oh, sorry. Will you be okay with Glory standing in the shadows and doing nothing?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Godiva nodded. “Candy Cox should be here any minute. She’s going to sit with me.” Candy—oops, Candice—was the high school English teacher and Godiva’s best friend. “My big boy is finally resting peacefully. Why? Are you going out?”

  “Yes.” She offered no other explanation. Neither of her sisters approved of her obsession with Hunter.

  “Where are you going?” Glory asked suspiciously. She inched to the kitchen table, keeping the long length of the hand-carved mahogany between herself and the wolf.

  “I’m. Going. Out.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She paused, then her pretty face scrunched in disgust. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”

  Genevieve’s back went ramrod straight. “So what if I am? You got something to say about it?”

  “Nope. Not a word. Except, if you want to make a fool of yourself over him again, go for it. Just know that the town isn’t laughing with you, they’re laughing at you.”

  Her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re just begging for a piece of me, Glor.”

  Awakening, the wolf raised his head, his lips pulling tight over his fangs.

  “Don’t listen to them,” Godiva cooed at him. She smothered her fingers over his thick fur, giving her sisters a pointed glare. “They’re showing their stupidity, and it’s quite embarrassing.”

  “We’re not embarrassing,” Glory said. “You’re embarrassing! You treat that mutt better than you treat your beloved sisters.”

  “With good reason.”

  As they argued, anticipation and nervousness zinged through Genevieve’s veins. Not for the proposed trip into hell, but for the coming night. Now that she’d decided to do it, to love-potion the pants right off of Hunter, she didn’t want to waste another minute. “Glory, I’d like to talk with you privately,” she said sweetly. She motioned to the living room with a tilt of her chin. “I don’t want to fight.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Okay, stay here then. I’m sure the wolf won’t regain full strength soon and be disoriented and afraid. He won’t fly into a rampage and—”

  Glory jolted backward with a gasp. “Alright. Fine.” One tiny step, two, she scooted around the table, around the wolf. “I’ll meet you in the living room.”

  Dissatisfied with such a gradual pace, Genevieve reached out, grabbed her younger sister’s hand, and tugged her into the next room. In the center, she whirled. She was almost bubbling over. Tonight might be the night all her dreams came true… . Glory’s love potions were legendary. Each sister specialized in a different area of magic. While she herself wielded the darkest power, that over vengeance, Godiva’s strength was in healing, both spiritual and physical, and Glory’s was in love.

  “I want to drink one of your love potions. And don’t say no.”

  Glory pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about: hell, no.”

  “Please.”

  “Nein. Nay. Non.”

  She pushed out a frustrated breath. “Why not?”

  “Evie,” her sister said, her expression softening, “he’s not good enough for you. When are you going to realize that? I’m more inclined to turn him into an impotent troll than help you win his affections.”

  “It’s one night, Glor. What can that hurt?”

  “It wouldn’t be one night for you. You’d want more.”

  True. So true. Deep down, she hoped Hunter would be so enthralled by her that he’d become addicted to her touch. “If he doesn’t want me after the potion, I’ll take a blood oath never to speak to him again.” A small lie, really, since she only planned to leave out one word. Never.

  “Sorry.”

  “Please. I’ll bake those eye of newt muffins you love so much.”

  “Oh, you bitch. I love those.” Several minutes passed in thick, brooding silence, before she shook her head. “Nope, sorry. I simply can’t allow you to endure more hurt because of him.”

  “I’ll wreak vengeance upon your greatest enemy. I’ll go total witch on their ass.”

  Glory opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap. Opened. Closed. Her hazel eyes gleamed hopefully, glowing with otherworldly power like they did just before a spell. “Horrible, painful vengeance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if it’s, say, against Falon Ryis?”

  “Hunter’s best friend? He’s your greatest enemy?” Genevieve blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know you and Falon had even spoken to each other. Ever.”

  Glory’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not going to explain. You make his life miserable, I’ll give you the potion. Take it or leave it.”

  She didn’t have to think about her answer. “I’ll take it.”

  Glory slowly smiled. “Then the potion is yours.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” With a joyous whoop, she threw her arms around her sister. Sometimes family was a wonderful thing.

  “What’s going on in there?” Godiva called.

  Glory said, “Genevieve accidentally conjured a male stripper, and we’re placing dollar bills in his G-string. Just ignore us.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny,” came the muffled reply. Then, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Come on.” Glory extracted herself from the bear hug and flounced down the candlelit hall, through thickly painted shadows, toward their bedrooms. “It’s in my room. I really hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured.

  Did she? Genevieve mused. Not really. Did she care? Hell, no. Thoughts of lying naked in Hunter’s arms eclipsed all else. He’d trace his fingers over her breasts, roll her nipples between his fingers. He’d kiss a path down her stomach, lingering, licking… “Uh, can we put a rush order on that potion?”

  Glory unlocked her door with a quietly muttered “Open” and a wave of her delicate hand. Instantly the thin slab of wood creaked open. They stepped inside the room.

  Genevieve’s jaw nearly hit
the ground. She rarely ventured in there and was momentarily shocked by the total chaos. Clothes and empty food cartons were scattered all over the floor, a sea of reds, blues, greens, and sweet and sour chicken orange.

  “I need a minute,” Glory said, already tossing shoes and other items aside as she scrounged through the mess.

  “No, you need a maid.” She pinched the 38D bra hanging from the lampshade between her fingers before dropping it on top of the matching panties at her feet.

  “I’ve been depressed and haven’t cleaned. Big deal.” Pause. “Ah-ha! I found you, you little sneak.” Smiling, Glory jumped up. A red bottle dangled from her fingers. “Love potion number thirteen.”

  Genevieve frowned. “I want love potion number nine.”

  “Trust me. Nine sucks. You want to ride a man like a bronco at peak rodeo season, you go with thirteen.”

  “I’ll take it.” Genevieve grabbed the crimson container and gently rolled it between her fingers. Dark liquid swirled inside, mesmerizing her. This was it, the answer to her prayers. Her heart drummed in her chest, faster, faster, then skipped a beat. This innocent-looking bottle was about to gift her with the best night of her life. Eager to begin, she reached for the cork, but her sister’s next words stilled her hand.

  “Drink half just before you walk into the bar, not a moment sooner. Only half. Understand?” Urgency rang from her voice like a clarion of bells.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Uh, hello. You’ll have every man in Mysteria following you and fighting for your attention if you drink it now. And the full bottle will cause… too much passion in you. Now go. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Genevieve needed no further prompting. “I love you.” She kissed her sister’s cheek and raced to her room. Quickly she changed into the sluttiest outfit she possessed. A black dress with a V neck so low it nearly touched her navel. The hem dangled mere inches below the curve of her ass. A little uncomfortable with the amount of skin showing, she slipped on a pair of tall hooker boots that hit just above her knees.

  She left her hair down, the brunette tresses hanging along the curve of her back in sexy disarray. She spritzed jasmine perfume between her breasts and swiped do-me-hard red gloss over her lips. There. Done.

  After grabbing a quarter, she grabbed her broom and skipped outside. Flying would be faster than driving. A cool night breeze kissed every inch of visible flesh—and boy, was there a lot of it. Amid the romantic haze of moonlight, insects sang a welcoming chorus, interspersed prettily with the buzz of fairy wings. Once she’d settled on top of the skinny broom handle, careful to cover her butt so she didn’t moon the entire town, she commanded the contraption to fly.

  “High, high my stead will soar. Touch the ground we shall no more.” As the words left her mouth, the broom inched higher and higher into the air, then sped forward, moving faster than any car. Long tendrils of dark hair whipped her face, slapping her cheeks. Plumes of pink pollen whizzed past her, leaving behind an erotic scent.

  When the lights of the town square came into view, framed by towering, majestic snowcapped mountains, she lowered and slowed. She stopped at the One-Stop Mart and bought a package of condoms from the pink-haired kid at the register. Outside, she popped back onto her broom and stuffed several foil wrappers in her dress.

  Ever upward she soared again, past the tall pines. Whitewashed wooden buildings, dirt roads, and friendly people came into view, each weirder than the next. Psychics, vampires, trolls, fairies—Mysteria turned no one away.

  As she flew over the town’s wishing well, a lovely arching marble structure that glittered in the moonlight, she swooped low and dropped her quarter inside. “Let tonight be exciting,” she said, wanting the wish to come true with every fiber of her being. Wisps of magic ribboned in the air, curling into the sky, making her shiver. She grinned.

  Soon Knight Caps entered her line of vision, the tall stone structure bursting with people, laughter, and gyrating music. She slowed. Her heart raced when she finally stopped at the side of the building. Her palms began to sweat as she hovered, hidden by the shadows. What if Hunter was somehow able to resist the potion? She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. What if she failed to attract him? What if—

  Her teeth ground together. No. No thoughts of failure. Not tonight. Tonight wishes came true.

  Stiffening her shoulders, she hopped to the ground. Her broom fell with a thump. Already she could sense Hunter’s presence inside. His warm essence swirled around her, layered with a subtle fragrance of sex appeal and man. With shaky fingers, she studied the bottle one last time, only then seeing the warning label on the side.

  “May cause dizziness,” she read. “This drug may impair the ability to drive or operate machinery. Use care until you become familiar with its effects. Seek medical attention if liquid comes into contact with eyes.”

  Nothing she couldn’t handle, she thought, popping the bottle’s cork. “Bottom’s up, Evie.” She drained the contents. If half would make Hunter love her for a night, just think of what the full bottle could do. There was no such thing as too much passion. The bitter liquid tasted foul on her tongue, and she felt its quick descent into her stomach. Burning, burning. So hot. She coughed and doubled over. Her blood boiled, setting fire to everything inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

  Thankfully the burning soon faded as if it had never been.

  Blinking, Genevieve straightened and took stock of her physical being. She didn’t feel any sexier. Didn’t feel irresistible. Still, she inched to the front entrance. I can do this. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust. She pushed open the doors. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust. The sound of inane chatter and frantic music filled her ears. Smoke wafted around her, blending with the shadows and creating a dreamlike haze.

  A small part of her expected everything male to attack her as her gaze searched the room for Hunter. No one paid her any heed. Where was—her heartbeat skidded to a stop. There he was. Behind the bar. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He was serving drinks to a twittering, giggling fairy threesome. A rush of jealousy hit her. Each fairy possessed a startling, delicate beauty, with glittery skin and gossamer wings that entranced human men, bringing out their protective instincts. Not to mention lust. These fairies were completely pink, with fuchsia hair, rose skin, and seashell garments.

  Hunter looked magnificent. His disheveled black hair tangled over his forehead and hit just below his ears. Silky. Tempting. His sharp cheekbones hinted at some foreign lineage. Probably royalty. A ruthless conqueror. His nose possessed an endearing bump and a scar nicked the right corner of his lips, most likely souvenirs from a barroom brawl.

  He was probably six-foot-five, a veritable giant to her five-four. Obviously he worked out. A lot. His delicious biceps stretched the fabric of his black T-shirt. Overall (and quite surprisingly) he was not a handsome man. He was too savage looking. Predator, his mesmerizing green eyes proclaimed. An irresistible proclamation. She wasn’t sure why he’d come to Mysteria, or what made him so different from other males that she had to have him. Only him.

  He laughed at something one of the stupid flirting fairies said, and her jaw clenched. He must have sensed her presence in that moment because even as he laughed, his gaze traveled across the distance and locked on her. His smile grew even wider, and he waved in a welcome—until he saw her outfit. His eyes, suddenly blazing with fire, narrowed. His smile faded into a fierce frown; his hand fell to his side.

  He turned away from her.

  Oh, no no no. There would be no ignoring her tonight. No giving her the cold shoulder. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust, she thought, stepping into the bar.

  •Two•

  I’M dead, Hunter Knight thought. So freaking dead.

  His blood heated as his gaze drank in the vision that was Genevieve Tawdry. Actually, he didn’t have to look at her to know her appearance. He’d memorized it long ago. Long, dark brown hair that glinted red in
sunlight framed a serious little face. Pert nose, huge hazel eyes that sometimes glowed and were always fringed by the prettiest lashes he’d ever seen.

  As usual, she mesmerized him.

  Right now, in the dim strobe light of the bar, she appeared lovelier than ever. Her barely-there dress—holy hell, she might as well have been naked. Every muscle in his body (even his favorite) hardened to the point of pain. A pair of black boots stretched up her calves, just past her knees, leaving several inches of delicious thigh visible. Cleavage spilled from the deep V of her top. Come over here and lick me, that cleavage said.

  What he would have given to take that cleavage up on its offer.

  Every time he saw this woman, he experienced an inexorable urge to strip her and ride her. Hard. Ride her till she screamed his name. Ride her till she spasmed around his cock. Now was no different. Her slender body, with its hide-and-seek curves, would fit perfectly against him. Over him. Under him.

  His teeth ground together. He wanted her desperately. He’d always wanted her.

  And there was no way in hell he could have her.

  Loving Genevieve would destroy him. Literally. Being psychic sucked ass. One touch of Genevieve’s lips at their first meeting and he’d known, known, she would somehow kill him if he let himself get involved with her romantically.

  That didn’t stop the cravings, however, didn’t stop her image from constantly haunting his dreams. Hell, in that scrap of black material she now wore, she might very well cause his heart to stop or his dick to explode.

  “Hunter, will you get me a sex on the beach?” a high-pitched female voice said in front of him. Fairy laughter erupted, ringing like dainty bells.

  He forced his gaze away from Genevieve, forced his lips to edge into a semblance of a smile, and met the impish gaze of one of the fairies. “Sure thing, sugar. Sex on the beach, just for you. I’ll even add Knight’s special ingredient.”