Magic's Love

by Alexandra Von Burg

  Magic's Love

  Elemental Magic, Book 1

  Alexandra Von Burg

  Alexandra Von Burg

  Copyright © 2021 Alexandra Von Burg

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-7367309-0-4

  Cover design by: Andrew Davis

  Printed in the United States of America

  Introduction

  Lila Bell’s first night out in her new town of New Castle, NY is a bust. She escaped the world’s worst date only to be attacked by a psychopath on her way home. She wakes up without her memory to a world full of immoral supernatural beings who call themselves Magiques. Mages, shifters and vampires live secretly alongside humans, and apparently, she’s one of them.

  Sebastian De La Cruz is tasked by the mage council head to teach the mysterious new mage to control her new found and very powerful magic. Lila struggles to navigate her way through an unfamiliar world of male chauvinism, prophecies, and a sexy vampire bodyguard, while learning to master her unusual magic.

  Could she be the prophesied Chosen One? The long awaited savior of the Magique world? Sebastian thinks so, as do many others, but some Magiques want her powerful magic for themselves, which puts Lila in constant danger. It will take a team of Magiques to protect her from falling into the hands of those who would do her harm.

  As Lila learns about her magic and the new world she lives in, she finds friends, allies, her true love, and a disturbing prophecy about a powerful mage destined to have three mates.

  This book contains a lot of hot men, and super hot sex.

  Prologue

  A dark green Jaguar S10 wound slowly up the mountain road in a thick fog. The gray overcast gave no hint of time of day, though there was a strange brightness refracted by the fog. The driver knew he’d reached his destination only because the shadows of a gate could be discerned as he passed through them at the top of the mountain. If he hadn’t known the terrain so well he might have driven straight into the stone wall of the abbey that he’d entered. He could just make out the yellow light of a lantern held by an acolyte waiting by the thick wooden door, the only opening in the long unbroken expanse of stone wall. The driver parked near the door and the acolyte. He disembarked, not bothering to lock the car or take the keys. He followed the robed figure through the doorway without a word.

  Inside the wall was almost as foggy as outside. Vague shapes of trees in a cloistered garden loomed as the robed figure led the driver around the perimeter and into a receiving room from medieval times. The 20x20 foot room had tapestries covering the stone walls and a central hearth large enough for a man to stand in. A large fire was happily crackling away in it, chasing away the cold that the fog had brought. No other light illuminated the room, casting the corners into shadows. The room was sparsely decorated with two wingback armchairsnear the fire atop a threadbare rug of Turkish design. In one chair sat a robed figure, arms folded in front, hands hidden in the large bell sleeves of the dark robe. In the other sat a much younger man, dressed casually in dark slacks and a sweater. His shoulder length hair fell loose, hiding most of his face. Four other men wearing dark robes over their suits stood nearby.

  The driver bowed his head in greeting.

  “Master, Brothers.“

  The seated robed man returned a fatherly smile, eyes wrinkling in the corners with fondness.

  “Student,” he greeted his former pupil with genuine affection.

  “Nice suit,” he commented, taking in the driver’s classic gray wool suit. A wry smile turned up the corners of his mouth. It was an easy smile that deepened the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He exuded peace and calm, and it made him attractive and ageless.

  All the men standing waited patiently, knowing it was no good to rush the ancient Mage. After a long pause crystal eyes turned towards the flames dancing in the fireplace.

  “The Oracle has spoken,” said the old man.

  All eyes turned to the younger seated man.

  “The Chosen One comes,” the dulcet tone of the younger man’s voice was lyrical and captivating. All the other men waited, eyes dilated with anticipation, for the Oracle to speak the prophecy. I am the Chosen One

  I come to you from Magic, who chose me. It did not ask me or petition me for your sake. It simply plucked me from my life, delivered me to your door, and demanded that I fix the problems that you have caused in your world.

  You may believe that I came from darkness, out of nowhere. That is not true. I have a family, allegiances, and ties; though such ties are not significant. My true ties are to morality, humanity, and forgiveness; all concepts foreign to you. So is my lifestyle also foreign to you, but is essential to me, the Chosen One.

  If you wish me to repair the damage you have inflicted on your world, then you must yield to me. If you do not, I will leave and take with me the gifts meant to help you regain the harmony that was once yours. You have tossed aside this harmony in favor of avarice, gluttony, and envy.

  The choice is yours.

  Chapter 1

  July

  Lila’s first Saturday night out in New Castle was a bust. She had moved for a job, and had only been in town for a week. Determined to make the most of her new life, she’d accepted a date with Mitchell, her co-worker from the college where she worked in the HR department. She thought they would get some dinner and then meet up with other co-workers for dancing at a club. Instead Mitchell had asked her to meet him at his house, a brownstone he shared with 4 other men. It felt more like a frat house inside. Bare floors, old overstuffed couches and easy chairs, a very large television with a football game on, and a coffee table cluttered with beer cans and liquor bottles. Ugh. After a tiresome conversation with the roommates during which Lila tried to maintain politeness and roommates made lewd innuendoes, they left. Instead of dinner, Mitchell took her to a bar.

  Mitchell spoke at Lila rather than to her. He spoke verbosely about himself, not asking any questions about her. Lila realized quickly that Mitchell had no intention of feeding her dinner as he talked about going to party at a friend’s house. She suspected that he hoped to get her drunk as quickly as possible in order to take advantage. Lila was surprised to find that she had so little patience for this sort of Frat Boy behavior that she paid very little attention to what the man was saying. Twenty minutes into his monolog about himself she had had enough, and started texting for a taxi.

  “Mitchell, thanks very much for making the effort, but I don’t think that you and I have the same idea of entertainment. I’m going to go home now, so you can get on with your Saturday night,” and before he could say anything, she turned and left the bar walking briskly down the street to get away from him as soon as possible.

  Lila had the taxi drop her at the train station. Descending the stairs to the train out of town, Lila could not help the disappointment she felt in the failed evening out. She liked her new city of New Castle and her little cottage in the “country,” a short train ride outside of the city. She’d been determined to make friends to go with her new life, so completely different from where she’d come from and how she’d lived. Her old life had been so predictable that it had been impossible to envision anything new ever happening to her back in Florida. After all, Lila would be 29 in a year, time for something new and different. Otherwise she might end up an old maid. If only she had known just how different New Castle
really was.

  The train ride was pleasantly meditative in its quietness. Leaving the station at the other end was also quiet. The Park-and-ride lot was nearly empty. Lila’s newly purchased used 2-door Toyota was parked under one of two lonely street lights. Lila studied her surroundings as she walked to her car, keys in hand. Her heartbeat quickened with the anxiety of being a woman alone at night in unfamiliar surroundings. She got into the car quickly and locked herself in before clicking her seatbelt on and inserting the key into the ignition. Lila turned the key, but the only sound she heard was a single click. The engine did not even try to turn over. Shit. Lila had little experience with cars. In fact this one, which she had bought less than 10 days ago, was the first car she had ever owned. She tried turning the key again. Nothing but the single click. She looked at the dashboard. Nothing. Dead battery? Who was she kidding, she wouldn’t know a dead battery from a broken valve, -or something. Now what? The little house she’d rented was almost 2 miles away down a quiet wooded road with only 2 or 3 other houses on the same road. Great. Where was an Uber when you needed one? Why had Lila decided that now was the time to experiment with living out in the sticks? She mentally cursed herself as she got out of the car and started walking towards the dark road and homeward.

  Lila had been born into a family circus that wintered in Florida and toured cities the rest of the year. She was used to being around people and the noises that easily penetrated the thin walls of trailers. She’d never thought about being caught as a victim. The quiet of crickets and the dull whoosh of far away highway traffic made her feel more than alone, abandoned. The darkness swallowed her as she walked briskly down the side of the road, away from the parking lot lights. She pulled her cell phone out and turned on the flashlight, her short heels clicking every step like a metronome. For the first time in the two weeks since she had left home, she felt regret, and maybe a little fear.

  Walking, walking, just keep walking, she told herself. Do not think about how this feels like a horror movie intro. An owl hooted off to her right somewhere. I am not going to die, I am not going to die, I am not going to die. She recited the loop in time to her footsteps. Her breathing became heavier from exertion. The night got darker. Tree leaves rustled. A twig snapped.

  Since puberty, Lila’s Mom had always told her to trust her instincts, and to not be embarrassed to freak out and run. As soon as she heard that twig snap, she began running down the road, not caring if the danger was real or imagined. She was a decent runner, so the worst case of paranoia would just get her home faster. Unfortunately, Lila’s instinct was working at peak efficiency. A minute later she heard footsteps following her. Lila had no other choice except to run faster. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears and her breath sawed in and out as she pumped her arms and lengthened her stride. As she focused completely on running away from the threat chasing her, one of the songs from her running playlist popped into her head, and a sense of calm came over her as she matched her stride with the music in her head. The last thing Lila remembered was being tackled from behind and sliding face first across the sharp gravel and grass, and into a ditch with a heavy weight on top of her forcing the air out of her lungs at the same time as a piercing pain in her head, neck and chest. Then blackness.

  Chapter 2

  July

  Sebastian was an early riser. Each day he rose with the sun and spent 3 hours or more working through the forms of a mage soldier’s work out. It was similar to some of the Asian battle arts with a little magic mixed in. One wall of his home gym was lined with every kind of fighting sword from around the world in the event he felt like training with a weapon. He didn’t need them in order to defend himself, his hand to hand combat skills mixed with his mage ability to throw energy around was enough to defeat any human easily, and most Magiques as well, but after 250 years, one had to mix it up a bit or one would get bored.

  Today Sebastian was working through forms using a katana he’d picked up in Japan during the 16th century when he had spent 4 years over there training with a small sect of Magiques who birthed the concept of Ninjas, the silent assassins. His six foot frame glistened with sweat as he neared the end of the last form, every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body was pumped from the hours of effort, and his sweatpants were clinging to his legs. He bowed to an imaginary opponent, replaced the sword on the wall, and headed upstairs for the shower in his master suite. His phone began ringing before he could turn on the water, and with a sigh he turned to answer it.

  “Good morning Sebastian,” the voice greeted before he could utter a word. “This is Alexander. I just got a call from Chief Henry about a young woman who was found near your home. I’m wondering if you could run down the road and determine if she’s one of ours or not, and whether or not we need to do something about it.”

  “Of course, Xander, where should I meet the chief?”

  “I believe it’s on your road about one mile from the train station. You won't miss it.”

  “I’ll leave in 15 minutes and call you as soon as I can ascertain the situation.”

  “Thank you Bastian, we’ll talk later then,” Alexander rang off.

  Twenty minutes later Sebastian parked his Mercedes behind the line of black and whites on the side of the road. Yellow crime scene tape paralleled the road for about 30 feet and then disappeared into the woods to the right of the road. Two EMTs were attending to a young woman seated at the back of a paramedic truck while Chief Henry questioned her. Sebastian walked up to the human police chief and showed his ID.

  “Chief Henry, I am Sebastian De La Cruz of the ISF. Alexander sent me,” he held out his hand in the human greeting.

  “Yes,” said Chief Henry shaking the proffered hand, ”Hello Mr. De La Cruz, we met some months ago. At least I have a live body for you this time.” The chief gave an uncomfortable chuckle as he turned with Sebastian towards the woman.

  “Unfortunately, the subject is claiming amnesia. Maybe you can get something out of her.”

  ‘Subject’? Sebastian raised one eyebrow. Not ‘victim’ or ‘perp.’?

  “Who called it in?” Sebastian asked.

  “An early morning jogger found a shoe on the side of the road, and when he spotted the other shoe in the grass, he took a minute to look around. When he saw a body not too far beyond the trees, he called 911. My sergeant took his statement, and we should have it typed up for you later today.”

  Sebastian glanced at the young woman and then back at the police chief. There was only one reason that he would be out in the sticks responding to a 911 call.

  “Is she a Special?”

  “No, she’s a Magique.”

  Chief Henry turned and introduced Sebastian to the young woman as the officer in charge of her case, and then left them to get acquainted.

  The young woman studied Sebastian suspiciously as he in turn studied her with his deep brown eyes. He was at least six feet tall and olive skinned, and had short black hair that was so dark it left a shadow on his face even though he was clean shaven. His eyebrows were straight slashes that could either arch expressively, or frown menacingly. His nose was elegantly roman, not the beak one would associate with someone of Italian or Arab descent. Maybe he was Greek. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, the crows feet just starting to show themselves in the corners of his eyes. He wore a navy suit that fit so well it had to be custom. His white shirt and blue and white striped tie also looked impeccable. He was a very handsome man.

  Sebastian was struck by how the woman’s beauty radiated from within, an obvious mark of a mage, but hers had a purity he’d never seen before. Her eyes were a turbulent hazel, shifting from blue to green to light brown like a stormy sea. Above those changing eyes were brows that arched elegantly. Her nose was small, straight, and had the slightest up turn to it. High cheekbones, shapely lips, and oval face were framed by a tangle of short dark chestnut hair that could have been the ‘before’ picture in a shampoo ad. Sebastian was momentarily speechless in front o
f this classic beauty. How many centuries had it been since a woman had rendered him speechless?

  “Do you really work for the police?” she asked him. ”You look a little well dressed for public service.”

  Ah, there it is, thought Sebastian, the modern woman only has to open her mouth to break the enchantment. He smiled thinly.

  ”Hello Miss…”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t remember anything. I just woke up on the ground surrounded by a bunch of guys in uniform and covered in blood,” she frowned. “I’m sure that’s somebody’s fantasy, but I’m a little freaked out right now.”

  Sebastian’s eyes grew wide with that statement.

  ”’Covered in blood?’”

  The young woman parted the blanket she’d been hugging around herself to show her once white blouse now pink and crimson with a tear across the neckline exposing her collarbone. Sebastian’s brows raised and he looked at the paramedic taking her blood pressure.

  ”Who’s blood is she covered in?” he inquired.

  “Don’t know, Sir. Hospital will test it, but she doesn’t show open wounds or trauma, so it can’t be hers,” to the other paramedic he said, ”Blood pressure 120 over 93,” as the other man wrote on a chart. Sebastian noted the slightly elevated blood pressure and softened his gaze at the woman when he spoke to her again.

  “Would you like some company during the ride to the hospital, Miss? Maybe if we chat a bit something will come back to you.”

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked sarcastically. Then she sighed, “Sorry, and yes, thanks. I really am freaked,” she smiled pathetically, “And call me Jane.”