Under His Spell (2 page)

“
E
very realm has its legends
. This is one of ours,” Valerie read out loud. She hummed thoughtfully to herself, determined to find something that made sense of what she’d felt in the forest near the cottage. No medical database described what had happened—allergic reactions, skin conditions, temporary hallucinations. Nothing fit. For two days she’d tried to unpack, but instead ended up pulling open every door and drawer she could find. She looked behind the antique mirrors. She stepped on floorboards to see if they were loose. She burned sage and chanted some cleansing spell she’d downloaded off the internet. One website hinted at possession. She burned candles to see if the fire turned blue. Supposedly that helped identify ghosts. So far, no ghosts, no evil spirits.

Then, today, as she was loading her research books onto the bookshelf, she found her first clue. The thick leather-bound tome was clearly old, with English translation written in small print down the margins. She’d found the book wedged behind an antique bookshelf. The print was faded and the paper smelled of time and dust. It might just be a book, but it felt like a clue.

“Long ago, the only children of two very magical families were meant to marry. Their powerful union would reverse the fate of a dying world. The North King’s daughter, Princess Arabella, was born with the purest of souls, but that soul darkened as all souls must when they lose innocence, and she did not idly sit by the fire awaiting her nuptials.”

A loud slam sounded, and Valerie jumped in alarm. She hurried to the window seat, peering out into the night. Though the town was only two miles away, she had yet to get used to the country stillness. Tiny fireflies dotted the lawn.

She eventually turned back to the book. The sound of her own voice filled the room. “The South King’s son, Prince Laurdin, like the men in his family, was born rambunctious and with a fire in his spirit. His mother could not control him. However, as he grew, he learned to put out the fire, knowing that letting his soul burn too intensely would be his undoing. And so he tamed himself, becoming pious and restrained as all things with too much passion must do to survive.”

Valerie glanced outside. The fireflies had brightened and increased their numbers.

“The people of the land, who saw the falling of their world, said that the souls were poorly matched. For in youth, fire and innocence did not play, and in adulthood, piety and darkness did not happily meet.” She turned the page and frowned. The text was too faded to read, and the brittle paper chipped against her fingers.

“You should not read that. It is nonsense meant to draw you in.”

Valerie dropped the book as she stood from the window seat, startled. “Mr. Olivier, what are you doing here?” She glanced over him. He stood in red boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt, as if he was getting ready for bed. It was hard enough dealing with the thought of him completely dressed. Now she had to look at his incredibly strong legs and thighs and… Shit. “And what are you wearing? Where are your pants?”

“You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand.” He came forward. She gasped as he neared, scurrying out of the way, lest he tried to touch her again. He wasn’t coming for her. Instead, he grabbed the book. “If you find these things just leave them. Don’t interact. They want to draw you in. It’s like the cottage.” He went to the window. “Dammit. You woke them.”

Valerie kept her distance but leaned to peek out of the window. Confused, she clarified, “I woke the lightning bugs?”

“Who are you? Why did you buy this place?” He leaned his forehead to the glass.

“I’m a fiction writer. I bought this place because I needed a house I could work in undisturbed.” Valerie frowned. “I did some checking after we met. You think this house is haunted, don’t you? By ghosts that live in the cottage? That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? I think I can understand what you’re feeling. It can’t be easy selling this place after what happened to your sister. I can also imagine that it would be impossible to keep living here surrounded by those memories, especially if you’re afraid they’re haunting the place. I wanted to let you know that you are welcome to visit the cottage and the house whenever you want. And, though I don’t believe in hauntings, I promise to act as if I do. Your ghosts—”

“Ghosts?” Troy turned to her. Red glowed in his blackened eyes. “Do I look like a ghost to you? I am what I’m afraid of.”

Valerie inhaled sharply and backed quickly for the door. “What the hell? What are you? How are you doing that? The skin thing could have been an allergy or photosensitivity, but your eyes should not be…”

The room became warm, filling with a palpable energy. It radiated off him and poured onto her. The overhead lights dimmed as tiny specks of red light flowed out of him to surround her. She tried to swat them away, but they melted into her skin, causing it to turn pink and glow.

Valerie had fought hard for control over her life. She lived on her own terms. Standing before Troy, she felt his dominance over her. He was much more than the good ole boy worker he’d dressed as, or the Southern gentlemen his mannerisms and speech indicated. The red in his eyes only grew brighter as the room continued to darken. The lights flickered out completely.

“Stop that,” he said.

“I’m not doing it,” she protested weakly. Valerie tried to rub the glow from her arms. It did no good.

“Stop!” Troy yelled. He threw the book against the wall, and it turned to dust. “I told you. I’m done with this place. I’m done with you. I want no part.”

The lights flickered back on. Valerie was too stunned to speak. She saw someone in her peripheral vision and jumped to find an old man sitting on her couch. Gnarled hands rose before him to rest upon the head of a shiny black cane. His suit was finely tailored, the kind of timeless classic that was seen most often at funerals.

“What has been foretold will come to pass.” The old man smiled, but the expression was more frightening than kind. “You summoned me? Are you ready then?”

“You tricked her into reading from the book,” Troy charged.

“I read a story,” Valerie weakly pointed out.

“That’s the thing about summoning the devil,” Troy said. “You just have to read from the Book of Shadows. It doesn’t matter what you read, just as long as you read. It piques your curiosity with nonsense.”

“Devil? Son, I’m flattered you would think me so high-ranking.” The man glanced at her thoughtfully and touched the pendant resting against his chest—an elongated, skinny triangle with a small circular medallion with strange symbols engraved within its center.

“I’m not your son,” Troy said.

“Now and forever,” the old man disputed.

“You gave them Seri.” Troy looked as if he wanted nothing more than to charge the man, but he remained planted in his place. “She was just a child. Sweet. Innocent. She never hurt anyone.”

“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice if you gave them the bad seeds. They have plenty of those. Besides, we did it for you, to activate your gifts.” While he spoke, he stood, shaking his limbs to imitate the fire and brimstone speech of a doomsday preacher. “Sacrifices must be made, son, for the greater purpose. If it makes you feel better, you’re simply keeping the balance. Not one of the more riveting prophecies, I’m afraid, but necessary for existence. If you think you have it bad, I should tell you the story of these sisters who I must—”

“You call demon blood a gift?” Troy growled. His skin reddened, and angry sparks snapped off him.

The old man laughed. Valerie thought about running toward the door. The second she did, the door slammed shut. She gasped. The devil man laughed harder. “Hello there, sweet girl.”

Valerie started to speak, but bravery was lost to her as the man turned his full attention on her.

“You know the story is not nonsense, don’t you? That’s the thing about prophecies. They are fulfilled in ways no one could even imagine. You, a woman from the North, our Princess Arabella reincarnated. Such a sweet and innocent child until you grew up and learned the cruelty of life. A necessity, I’m afraid. Your soul had to be tarnished. I am sorry about your parents. Plane crashes are always so sudden and messy, but it was the only way we could both of them at the same time. And you really didn’t need to marry that man anyway. He’d have drained your bank accounts dry had you not caught him with those strippers. Our one pure soul darkened by life.”

Valerie shook her head and willed him to go away. How could he know all that? “You? You killed them?”

“Not personally. I simply oversee matters. But, your parents were your sacrifice. Just as Seri was his.” The demon turned to Troy. “And Troy, my son, is our Prince Laurdin,” the demon began to mimic a thick southerly drawl, “Southern gentleman born and bred.”

“Shut your mouth,” Troy warned.

“He was such a hot-headed child. Drove his own mama to drink.”

“I said, be quiet.” Troy took an aggressive step forward. The old man was unconcerned.

“After his sister…” The demon paused thoughtfully. “Are we still saying she was abducted? Or, since we’re all friends here, can I call a sacrifice a sacrifice, and say Seri was enchanted and lured away by demon minions with the blessing of your sperm donor?”

“I thought you were his father?” Valerie looked at Troy for a sign as to what she should do. As much as she feared his appearance, a part of her felt as if he knew him, as if his molecules were joined to hers, as if when they touched they became one person. She knew him instinctively better than she’d known any man. Love at first sight? She never supposed it could feel so real. Could she call it love? Destiny? A spell? Yes, a spell. She was under the spell of him. That made the most sense, which would explain her desperation to go to him, to touch him, even though she knew what had happened last time he took her hand. That would explain her wanting him, dreaming of him, fantasizing about submitting to him.

“I see it has started.” The demon drew her attention back to him. “I’m Troy’s demon father. Mr. Olivier summoned me when his son was born.” The man chuckled as if remembering something they could not know. Then, he waved a dismissing hand. “After Seri and his stepmother’s suicide, our Troy became a very serious young man.”

“I want you both to leave,” Valerie said. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I want you gone. This is my house now. Mine.”

“Feisty.” The demon laughed. The cold sound ended abruptly as the demon disappeared.

T
roy stumbled
as soon as the demon released his hold. As much as he’d wanted to strangle the creature, he couldn’t. The demonic part of himself didn’t let him. Unfortunately, with the freedom to now move, he also lacked the restraint to deny his impulses.

“This isn’t over,” he said, not looking at Valerie. He had tried not to think about her since their first meeting, but the touch of her hand lingered on his. The memory of her eyes stayed in his thoughts. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but she was beautiful—curved as a woman should be curved, skin deserving to be caressed, a mouth that needed to be kissed. As much as he wanted to avoid the inevitable, he knew it was time.

“How did he just disappear like that?” she asked. “How did you even get in here? I’d set the security alarm.”

Troy let loose a long breath. He didn’t think, just acted. He strode to her, knowing what he must look like to her, knowing by the strange burning in his eyes that they had turned. Power surged through him, growing stronger the closer he came. She was a magnetic force calling to him. Her lips parted, and he knew he didn’t have to ask permission. The spell that bound them had been written centuries before they were born.

His blood boiled, heating his skin to a reddish tint. The closer he came, the more he couldn’t stop himself. Valerie gasped as he cupped her face. He took her parted lips as an offering and kissed her. Troy slipped his tongue past her lips. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t actively participate—at least not like his passion wanted. When he pulled away, his heat fused into her flesh, turning her skin pink where he touched.

“You realize you’re insane, right?” she whispered.

“Very much so.” His voice sounded hoarse, but he could not control the tone.

“This whole thing is insanity.”

“Yes.”

“I’m crazy for wanting this, aren’t I?” She trembled. “You’re a delusion. Tell me I’m crazy and that this isn’t real.”

“No.”

Troy kissed her again. This time she answered his lips. She reached for his shoulders. As her tongue met his, something peculiar happened. The heat began to cool. He pulled away to look at his arm. Her body was counteracting his heat with a soft blue glow. The red left her skin, and now the blue was invading him, calming the demon blood inside.

Valerie jerked her hand from him and stepped back. “Nothing makes sense.”

At the withdrawal, he felt the heat surge up once more. Whatever she’d been doing had brought him balance.

“I don’t believe in witchcraft and spells and magic, but that’s what this is, isn’t it? A spell? I’m under your spell.” She sounded confused. Her eyes searched him, but her expression said she did not trust her eyes.

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t push the feelings back down. Once awakened, the demon blood refused to settle.

“Not a spell,” he said. “More like fate. A fulfillment of a prophecy.”

“That can’t be good, not when it’s being promoted by a demon.”

He frowned, even though her words had referred to his demonic father, Troy felt them like a slap. He drew his hand up to cover his eyes, knowing how evil they must appear. Turning his back toward her, he willed himself home. It had never worked before, and it didn’t work this time. The magic surrounding the manor wanted him there.

“
P
rophecy
,” Valerie whispered, trying to make sense of the impossible.

Long ago, the only children of two very magical families were meant to marry. Their powerful union would reverse the fate of a dying world.

“We’re supposed to…marry?” She felt foolish saying it out loud. “But…”

The people of the land, who saw the falling of their world, said that the souls were poorly matched. For in youth, fire and innocence did not play, and in adulthood, piety and darkness did not happily meet.

“But we will not be happy because of who we are?” Valerie frowned. “I don’t get it. So we get married, and that stops the world from ending?”

“We are the products of fate.” His words held a resignation to them. Had he accepted this?

“I’m not getting married to a stranger because some demon who had my family killed tells me to,” Valerie said. “We make our own fate.”

“What if your heart tells you to?”

That question brought her up short. The very intimacy of it made her both uncomfortable and curious. “I suppose that would be another matter altogether, but we’re talking about… What are we talking about? We’re not seriously considering anything that demon had to say, are we?”

“Demons don’t make the prophecies. He’s just an ambassador to see that it is carried out.” Troy dropped his hand from his eyes and crossed to look out of the window. He stood in his boxers, confident and evidently comfortable in his surroundings. His hand lifted to trace the curve of the bookshelf. This was her home now, but she felt like an intruder. “Can you feel the pull?”

Valerie joined him near the window. She did feel it, a whisper she couldn’t quite hear, urging her to draw closer. “The cottage?”

“The cottage is merely stone that guards a portal. My sister used it as a playhouse. She felt the pull. I thought she had invisible friends. Turns out, she really did.”

“Why did you sell?”

“I tried to outrun my fate. It keeps calling me back, back to this house…” He turned to look at her. His eyes pierced with intensity. “And now back to you.”

Valerie gasped as he took her by the hips and lifted her to sit on the window seat. He kissed her, aggressively going for her mouth. The heat from his skin warmed where he touched, sending shivers of electricity into her body. Regardless of what reason and sanity said, his passion demanded an answer.

Her lips moved against his, parting to allow his tongue access. The flow of electricity reversed, a new sensation rippling out of her in a cool wave. When he leaned back, he breathed heavily. His hips blocked her from getting up off the window seat. The unmistakable arousal pressed against his boxers.

Her hands rested against his chest. Pale blue light radiated from where her fingers touched his shirt. She felt her energy flowing into him, connecting them. His heart raced beneath her hand.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in magic.” He put his hand over hers—heat to her cool.

“I don’t,” she said, “or I didn’t.”

“I feel you inside me.” He trembled. His head dropped back, and he inhaled deeply. Before she realized what he was doing, he grabbed her shirt and ripped it open. Buttons popped off and scattered across the wood floor. Skillful fingers unfastened her jeans. He tugged her by her waistband to stand, and then jerked her jeans and panties down her legs. Next, just as quickly, he pushed her to sit and whipped them over her feet and tossed them aside.

“Troy,” Valerie said, unsure if she was about to beg him for more or order him to stop. His aggressiveness excited her. Black eyes, threaded with red, frightened and aroused.

“Now you will feel me inside of you.” Troy pushed his boxers down to reveal his erection. The shaft was tinted red like the rest of him. He pulled her thighs open and forward. Valerie fell back against the window. Her head propped up so she could easily see what he did. Troy angled his hips. The tip of his cock slipped inside. Its touch was fiery heat, so much hotter than was normal for a man.

Valerie braced her hands back, taking the pressure off her neck. She gasped for breath. Not only did heat radiate from his body, the electricity came with it.

He held her thighs firmly, pulling her sex onto him. To her surprise, her body accepted his. Apparently, the arousal she’d been trying hard to fight was enough to pave the way for a smooth entry. He kept his hips flush to her. Fingers dug into a thigh, as he reached his left hand forward.

Troy fisted his hand between her breasts, holding onto her bra. His eyes focused on her chest as he began to move. He pulled his hips back and rocked them forward. There was nothing sweet or gentle to the dominating way he fucked, and yet she did not wish him to slow.

The t-shirt hid his chest, but she saw the impression of muscles. The hardness of his hips bumped her softer thighs. Strong hands gripped and pulled.

“You’re made as a woman should be,” he said, the words sounding more like groans as he continued to thrust. “Soft and curved. I wanted you when I saw you by the cottage. I knew I would have you.”

The red energy warred with her blue. It radiated over her thighs and hips. Release came, stiffening her whole being, and still he kept going, taking what he needed.

High pitched cries filled her ears, the sound not coming from anything in the room. Troy jerked, pressing flush as he came. The grip on her thigh and bra tightened briefly and then slipped free. He leaned forward, letting his cock slip out of her as he braced his weight on the bookshelf next to the seat.

Even as he breathed hard, he stared at her chest. He tilted his head slightly before reaching for the strap to pull it off her shoulder. A breast spilled free. A very pleased smile curled his lips.

Valerie automatically reached to pull the strap back up. This caused him to frown, and he again jerked it down to free a breast.

“You have a body that’s meant to be fucked and often.” He palmed her exposed breast, letting it fill his hand. “A man needs something soft to sink into.”

She made a weak noise.

“Tell me you feel the balance. Your cool magic to tame my fire. Your softness to envelope my firmness.”

“I don’t have magic,” she said. “I’m just me.”

He massaged her breast, only to stop. His confident smile fell, and he leaned closer as he pushed her breast to look at the underside. “Are you sure about that?”

Valerie pushed his hand away and didn’t give him a choice as she sat up. She righted her bra. “It’s just a birthmark.”

“Seraph,” he whispered.

“What?” She looked for her pants and found them halfway across the room hanging from a wall light fixture. Luckily, the lamp was off.

“How can you not know what kind of blood you carry? You’ve been tapped by one of the seraphim. You have their mark. Just as I have been tapped by the other side.”

“Other side?” She hurriedly pulled on her panties and threaded her arms into her pant legs to right the material so she could dress.

“It makes perfect sense. I carry the blood of a high-level demon, and you carry the blood of one of the highest order of angels. For whatever reason, they need us to join.”

“Angels.” She shook her head. “No. That’s not right. I’m hardly an angel. Trust me on this. In fact, I can’t believe that we just did what we did. That alone should clip any wings I might have.”

“And I’m hardly a demon. Trust me on this.” His eyes had faded somewhat, back to their natural brown. He shot her a playful smile. “Despite what you might believe after that performance.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to wake up tomorrow and this strange dream will be over. I can’t rationalize how I go from unpacking to you appearing out of nowhere, to meeting a demon to…” She gestured toward the window. A handprint smudged the glass where he’d pressed his hand against it.

“To fucking?” His eyes began to fill with color. They narrowed in intent.

“I’m going to bed,” she said to stop his advances before they started again. There was no way she could resist him if he tried kissing her.

“I’ll come with you.”

She shook her head in denial. “You’re welcome to crash on the couch.”

“Won’t you be frightened all alone tonight? As you said, you saw demons. What better protection than to have someone with demon blood stay with you?” The red hue spread over his skin.

“Oddly, no. I don’t feel scared at all.” It was a partial lie. She was used to being alone in the house, but knowing he would be downstairs was a comfort. If she invited him up, she knew what would happen—and it wouldn’t include thinking or sleeping, both of which she needed to do.

The tiny sparks of his magic reached for her, drawing her in, demanding that she let him have his way.

She backed out the door to make sure he didn’t try to follow. “Goodnight, Troy.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

T
roy watched
Valerie leave and resisted the urge to go after her. There was nowhere in this house she could hide, but as much as he wanted to give chase, he found himself holding back. Yes, his body was eager to sample her again, but his logical mind told him to behave. He needed time to reason this development.

Things were starting to make more sense. She might not know it, or want to believe it, but she had angel blood in her. It explained the calming effect she had on him and the way her magic balanced his rougher passions. Carrying demonic energy was not easy. Girlfriends were inclined to dislike his alpha tendencies. For the most part, he could act the gentleman. Even so, introduce any passionate emotion into the mix—anger, lust, fear, obsession—and baser instincts took over.

Going to the couch, he lay down and pulled a throw pillow under his head. Valerie tempered back his hot-bloodedness. She provided a balance. For the first time since learning about his fate, he thought that maybe—setting aside the horrific sacrifices they had already been forced to make and could do nothing about—this part of the prophecy wasn’t so bad after all.