by Coralie Moss
I unfolded the underpants and stretchy bra and put them on. They were soft and serviceable. I shook out the jumpsuit, turned the garment so the front faced away from me, and stepped one leg in. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.” She walked away from the bathroom, then returned. “There’s a scarf in one of the pockets for flair. I think you should wear it.”
Lucky for me, the garments my aunt created were spelled to accommodate themselves to their wearer. Gazing down the front of my body, I watched as the waistband cinched in and the bottom of the legs shortened until the hems grazed the tops of each foot.
I towel dried my hair and ran my fingers through the tangled waves. The scarf was a pretty floral pattern. I wrapped it around my neck to hide Rémy’s sigil and Gosia’s snake before admiring my reflection.
Tía Mari had managed to make a utilitarian garment sexy. At least, until I had to go tunneling again. I swished water through my mouth, spat it out, and opened the door. Bare feet on cold wood reminded me my boots were somewhere in the deep, cold waters of the cavern.
I replayed my interactions with Rémy, and with Gosia and Jadzia as I jogged up the stairs. I was in the middle of bitching to myself about Magicals and cryptic messages when I arrived at the third-floor landing and stepped into the workroom. It was no surprise to see my sisters, Maritza, and Alabastair. I recognized Kostya’s broad-shouldered back.
What stopped my forward momentum was the man bent over one of the big tables, his attention on whatever was pinned down by his palms. His attire—tailored black pants tucked into heavy black boots, a white tuxedo shirt with the sleeves rolled to expose massive forearms laced with platinum-colored tattoos, and an extremely tight, extremely erotic black vest—was a confusing blend of formal wear, combat gear, and sex.
Oh. My Goddess.
The only direction I could take was toward him, toward the long white braid shot through with silver streaming down his back. My joints weakened first, starting with my knees and followed quickly by my toes and hips. I grabbed hold of the table but collapsed anyway, onto my knees, then onto my back.
The demon turned toward me in slow motion, unfurling his body over mine. The metallic blue of his eyes pinned my shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips to the floor. His full, lush lips were moving. He was speaking English. But I couldn’t parse what he was saying. The only thing I understood was that this man was mine. I felt entirely at home with that knowledge even as I recognized the threads connecting him to me were not of my making. Or my aunt’s. Or my mother’s.
These threads—brown, black, red—were old, older than any living family member. These threads were comprised of metal, dirt, roses, blood, magic, memories past and present.
“Clementine?”
“Laszlo?”
The demon was on all fours, crouched over me. He smelled glorious. The top two fasteners on his tux shirt had come unbuttoned. The ends of the bow tie swept forward. Silk caressed my cheeks. He lowered his head and rubbed his ornately decorated horns across my upper chest before burrowing his nose into the as-yet-unclaimed side of my neck. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, his lips skimming my earlobe. “Now, would you kindly explain what the hell kind of magic you’re using and stop it at once?”
I grabbed his biceps, intending to squeeze the muscles and push him off me. My fingers met solid marble. Or a marble-like substance. I tried to move him, but between how he’d positioned himself and whatever spell was binding us, I couldn’t.
“She’s not using her own magic, Laszlo,” Maritza said. “The Demesne is unstoppable, once it has made its decision.”
Laszlo turned his head at a glacial pace. His braid slipped over his shoulder and settled between my breasts as he addressed my aunt. “The what?”
Instead of answering him, she stepped closer until she was crouched by my head. “Clementine, can you move?”
“I—I’m not sure,” I whispered. My hands would not release their grip on Laszlo’s cool, hard arms. Over his shoulders—his broad, capable shoulders—I caught zigzags of lightning beyond the domed skylights.
“Let go of the demon, mija. He’s not going anywhere. It’s time for you and your sisters to hear a little story.”
“O-okay.” I stared into the demon’s mismatched blue eyes and ever so slowly released one finger, and another, until all I felt was the crisp cotton of his shirt. He held my gaze and sat back on his haunches, giving me room to roll to my side. I crawled away, then stood. Laszlo remained on his knees, running his fingertips across the floor where the damp imprint left by my hair was still visible.
Maritza gestured for me and Alderose to sit with Beryl. My limbs had trouble obeying instructions. We perched along the edge of the table in birth order, as we’d been doing our entire lives, and waited for our aunt to compose herself. Kostya and Laszlo stood behind us on the opposite side of the table. I could see Kostya out the corner of my eye, arms crossed and a vertical furrow between his brows.
I knew Laszlo’s posture was the same. I could feel the shape of his body pressing against my back. Even with a table’s width separating us.
“Centuries ago, our matriarch, Mira, crossed paths with a shaman. Mira was lonely and wanted nothing more than to find her true love. The shaman prepared a concoction based on the hallucinogenic plant medicine his people were known for and told her to drink it. She did, and after she emptied the gourd her entire being expanded until she was as big as the sky. When the plants were finished sharing their medicine Mira shrunk back to her normal size and returned to her village, knowing she had been blessed with the gift of sight.
“The sight opened her eyes and her heart to experiencing the infinite connections between her people and their surroundings—the cacti, the trees, even the animals. Mira used her expanded sight to create love matches between her people and those in the surrounding villages, always with her third eye open for her true love.
“It was only when she was nearing the end of her life, when a man she had never met before walked into her village, that she was able to experience what it felt like to become immediately and irrevocably attached to another person.
“Mira desired a child from this union. She returned to the shaman. She was granted her wish, which she heard, but she was so overcome with joy that she did not absorb the rest of the shaman’s blessing.
“Though her moon blood had ceased years before, Mira bore a miracle baby. That baby thrived and matured into a beautiful woman. This woman carried Mira’s gift of sight, and her ability to solidify love bonds. Since that time, the ability to create love matches has come through in at least one of Mira’s female descendants in every generation.
“In my lifetime, that person was my sister, Moira.”
My sisters and I gave a collective sigh as Tía’s story came to an end. Alderose slid off the table and stretched her arms overhead. Her spine popped as she twisted to one side, then the other. “That would imply one or more of us is next in line to carry on with this gift?”
“Correct.”
I piped in with, “But you haven’t explained the Demesne.”
My aunt interlaced her fingers under her chin. “Every one of Mira’s ancestors carries the potential to recognize their own truest love. The moment hits like the lightning dancing across the sky this very night.” She looked to Alabastair. “I had no knowledge of the Demesne, until the night I experienced its power, which was the same night I met Alabastair for the first time.”
The necromancer picked up the thread. “It is possible to refuse the call. If either individual does not agree, then the two must separate immediately and never again be in one another’s presence until such as time as the Brodeur has experienced the Demesne again.
“Having been brought to my knees at my first sight of Maritza, I can attest to this phenomenon’s extraordinarily jarring effect. I can also attest to the ways in which the Demesne simply points out the obvious and cuts away the need for courtship.”
Alabastair made a
point of directing his next comment to the demons at my back. “Which is not to say it does away with courtship altogether. If anything, it enhances and enriches the mating dance.”
Laszlo planted his knuckles on the table and glared at the necromancer. “What you’re saying is that I’m destined to spend the rest of my life with Clementine Brodeur, if I choose to accept the terms of the Demesne?”
“That is correct.”
Laszlo turned to Kostya. “I should have ignored your text and remained at the reception, my brother.”
My face flamed from the inside out, even as every cell in my body yearned to be wrapped in Laszlo’s rock-hard arms. I dropped my gaze to my crossed legs, picked at the knee of my jumpsuit, and reminded myself I bruised easily.
“Clementine can hear you loud and clear, my brother,” Kostya whispered, then added for everyone’s benefit, “We ordered dinner for everyone. The delivery guy’s waiting at the front door. Laz, with me.”
My aunt stepped closer as the demons thundered down the stairs and rested her hands on my legs. “Darling Clementine, chin up.”
I lifted my head. I could feel the tears waiting to spill down my cheeks. “On top of everything else, I have to decide if a demon that I just met, who obviously doesn’t want me, should be mine forever or be released from his—obligations? Really, Tía?”
“Oh, my sweet girls.” She looked to Beryl and Alderose. “If it is any solace, look to me and Alabastair, to your uncle Malvyn and his beloved, James. Look to your own parents, who maintain the power of the bond even across death.”
“That kind of destined bond would explain Dad’s absenteeism since Mom died,” Alderose said. “It must have been that much more painful to lose her.”
“Is there anything I can do to…to delay this thing?” I asked.
“I can construct a charm for you and the demon that will dampen the attraction enough that you can focus on the task at hand. Though I don’t think I can make the charm last longer than twenty-four hours.”
Maritza leaned into Alabastair’s chest and smiled when he crossed his arms in front of her shoulders. “The Demesne acts like a powerful, cosmic push in a direction you never saw coming,” she said. “I would counsel you to not discount the timing of its arrival, Clementine.”
My sisters and I squeezed hands, exchanged confused glances, and slid off the table. I didn’t miss the look that passed between Beryl and Kostya when the brothers walked through the doorway bearing brown paper bags. Kostya set his on the nearest table, went right to my sister, and enfolded her in his embrace. The realization hit me that as much as she enjoyed being with him—and had chosen to be with him during this visit and maybe beyond—that he was not her Demesne. We would have heard about it in exquisite detail if she had experienced anything like what had just happened to me.
Alderose had withdrawn into her shell, a process that seemed easier given she was wearing protective gear around her chest and had the rest of it crammed in the duffel bag she’d dropped by the door. As I watched her and Laszlo open the paper bags and set out the contents, it struck me how well suited my sister and the demon appeared, at least from the outside.
She was a warrior, dressed in body-hugging, leather-like armor and packed with weapons. He was every inch the kind of being who took command—of a room, of a situation, of his lover’s body. Plus, they were both the oldest of three siblings.
I couldn’t avoid looking at Laszlo. The pull to be near him was insatiable, as though my aunt had sewn magnets into the very fabric of my clothing and he was the metal they were most attracted to. The demon froze when I ended up behind him in the food line. His hand trembled as he took hold of the container of barbecued ribs, turned, and offered me the first serving.
“My aunt thinks she can construct a charm to help us not feel…this,” I said, ripping my gaze off the lacing running down the back of his vest. Tight and precise, the pattern of crisscrossing silk cords accentuated the V from his shoulders and waist.
“Given the circumstances, I think that would be extremely prudent.” His gaze hungrily followed my fingertips as I licked at the spicy sauce. The restaurant hadn’t provided serving utensils and I was forced to pick up the ribs with my fingers.
“She thinks it’ll only last for a day or so, though.”
“I’ll do whatever she asks to get as much time as I can to be free of this…obsession.” The demon practically spat out his words.
I swallowed hard, walked away from the table, and forced myself to cross the room to sit near my aunt and her beloved. I couldn’t fault Laszlo for speaking his truth, but his admission stung. A lot. Though I could see the absurdity of me feeling bad about a man I wasn’t sure I wanted to be with being unsure that he wanted to be with me.
“It’s all rather convoluted and confusing, isn’t it?” asked Bas. “Your heart and your body are feeling things, and you don’t know if it’s the magic or the person who you feel the attraction to or if what you’re feeling was there, lying dormant, for that person all along.”
I picked at my food. I had to work at swallowing past the lump in my throat. The relentless rain hitting the street-facing windows and the overhead skylight created a sound loop. I was beginning to find it more annoying than soothing. “The sooner my aunt can make the charms, the happier Laszlo will be. Me too.”
Ribs, garlicky mashed potatoes, and a fresh salad were the fuel I didn’t know I needed until I’d halfway cleaned my plate. There were no leftovers. And no dessert, which I discovered when I attempted to soothe the tension in the room with a joke about splitting the six-pack of applesauce I’d found in Mom’s ground-floor office. Sloughing off my discomfort, I headed to the bathroom to wash my hands.
Laszlo followed. I ignored him.
Until I stepped into the darkened shop space and couldn’t ignore him any longer. “I’m not happy about this either,” I said, spinning to face him, “but at least I’m not tossing insults at you and—”
The demon cupped my jaw in both hands and brought his face close enough to mine I could see the differences in his eyes’ colors in the ambient street light. I found myself backing up until I hit one of the cutting tables. The bulky, protective feel of the jumpsuit encasing my entire body felt too heavy, too hot, and way too restrictive. I fumbled for buttons, snaps, a zipper, anything to release me from its confines only to realize my aunt had sewed me into the garment.
Crap.
Laz brushed his mouth across mine, licking at my lips like I was covered in some heavenly topping. I opened my mouth to his exploration and added my tongue. He lifted me and rolled us onto the table. Grabbing his horns, I writhed against him until we were a tangled, bare-skin-seeking mass.
Everything on him that could get hard was hard. And everything in me that could get juicy was soaking and wet. The Demesne had us in its grip and it wasn’t letting go.
13
“Laszlo, we have to stop.” Pressing his forehead against mine, the demon reluctantly curled up to sitting and wrapped my legs around his waist. I hooked my ankles and circled his neck with my arms. “Don’t you dare say anything stupid,” I said. “Because—”
“Clementine, I’ve spent much of my adult life being groomed for a position in my mother’s court. I am intimately familiar with the challenge of accepting one’s destiny. I will try my best to not say anything stupid, and I want you to know that I will not run from you. I can’t.”
“I know you can’t. The stupid curse says—”
“Either the stupid curse had nothing to do with the fact that you just wrangled my inner beast into submission, or the stupid curse is exactly the cure for what’s ailed me since—” He shook his head and buried his nose in my neck, a gesture I was beginning to enjoy.
Except when it was interrupted by Kostya’s deliberately loud cough. “Brother, you two are wanted upstairs. There’s been a development.”
“Give us two minutes.”
I stroked Laz’s horns, then slid his thick braid between my
hands. He pulled me closer and cupped my face. “I owe you an apology, Clementine.”
When I tried to say something—I was going to tell him I understood, not that he didn’t owe me, because he totally did—he pressed a finger to my lips and shook his head. “I should never have taken out the frustration I have with my own family on you. I am very sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, delighting in the way my lower lip caught on his finger. Laszlo took that as an invitation to kiss the corners of my mouth.
“And will you allow me to do whatever I can to help you and your sisters with your current situation?”
“Yes.”
“And once the situation has been sorted would you be willing to travel with me to my realm and meet the rest of my family?”
“Uh, Laz? This is the twenty-first century, and I’m a thoroughly modern witch who—”
“Who happens to be afflicted by an ancient family curse and—”
“Who happens to be the beneficiary of an ancient family blessing and who happens to be terrified of your mother.”
“We all are,” he said, catching my mouth with his and kissing the breath out of me. When he withdrew, he amended his words. “Once this task of yours is complete, I would like for us to get to know one another, Clementine Brodeur. In real time.”
“I would like that too, Laszlo.”
The demon lifted me off his lap. My knees wobbled when my feet found the floor. There was a tenderness in his movements as he cupped my waist and waited for my trembling to subside.
“Do you really have an inner beast?” I asked.
“You have no idea, little witch.” His grin was as wicked as anything I had ever seen. I decided on the spot I could handle getting to know this man better.
Still, as he held my hand and led me up the two flights of stairs, I held on to the hope there was some kind of escape hatch built into the Demesne. Because as much as I wanted to believe in the power of magic to find one’s true love or destined mate, I chafed at the idea of having a romantic partner assigned to me.
