Chasing Steel: Capturing Magic Books 1-3

by Jessica Sorensen

  What I’m really surprised about is no fans are bothering East. No one has approached him, except for a singer from another band, but he just stopped by to say what’s up.

  East bites back a smile then scoots closer to me. “Maybe we should go easy on the wine for a bit.” He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I want to make sure you have a clear head with so many other creatures around.”

  “I do have a clear head.” It’s partially true. I’m not completely drunk. I’m just light.

  He smiles at me then picks up the glass in front of him and takes a drink.

  I eye him over while he’s not paying attention to me. He’s still sporting the same pants he had on earlier, only he added a few chains to the pockets and belt loops. He’s shirtless, and his wings are on full display, begging to be touched. Which begs the question: why hasn’t a creature tried to touch them or him?

  Why haven’t I?

  Shaking that thought from my head, I twist in the booth to face him. “Why isn’t anyone bothering you right now? When we were in the city, you had to duck down an alley just to escape your fans.”

  He sets the glass down on the table in front of us then rotates in the booth so his knee is pressing against mine. “We have rules for our parties. A list of rules actually, that are attached to the signal we send out. Before anyone can see the signal, which includes the place, time, and date, they have to sign the list of rules with their magical signature, which means they’re magically binding themselves to those rules. And if they so much as try to break one, the magic curses them.”

  I shudder at the reminder of my own curse. “With what?”

  He slants forward, his sweet scent engulfing my nostrils. “With dark things that I don’t want to get into because, right now, you are so light and beautiful and I don’t want to risky dimming that.” He traces his finger underneath my chin.

  It’s the first time he’s really touched me since the party started. Truthfully, his lack of touching has left me sort of perplexed since, before the party started, he gave me a rundown of what was to be expected of me while I was pretending to be the band’s aftershow woman. Not that any of them are going to have sex with me or anything like that. Although, when he explained that part to me, he put it a lot more bluntly and used dirty words that made me annoyingly blush. Still, he did stress that we’d have to touch each other, and made a big deal of making sure I was okay with. And yet he’s barely done anything except touch my hair and cheek.

  “Why aren’t you touching me?” I wonder aloud then bite down on my tongue, realizing the full context of what I just asked. And so does he, I’m assuming, since he struggles not to grin. “What I mean,” I start to correct myself, “is I thought we were supposed to be touching each other because I’m supposed to be the band’s aftershow woman or whatever.” Something occurs to me then. “Although, how can I really be your aftershow woman if you haven’t even put on a show?”

  “Oh, we’re going to put on a show,” he promises then takes a sip of his drink, his muscles raveled into tight knots.

  “Really? You guys are going to play tonight?” I ask, and he nods, setting the glass down.

  I reach for my drink, but he slides it out of the way.

  I give him a dirty look. “What the hell, dude?”

  “No more drinks,” he says. When I part my lips to protest, he places a finger across them. “Because, when I start to play with you, I don’t want you to be so foggy-headed that you’re not fully aware of what I’m doing.” He bites down on his lip. “I want you to feel every single graze of my fingers as I touch your soft skin. Maybe I’ll even slide it up your dress and feel inside—”

  I bite down on his finger, not hard enough to draw blood but to stop him from finishing that sentence.

  He winces but chuckles, withdrawing his finger from my mouth. “Always so feisty,” he mutters, his gaze sweeping over me. “That’s good, though. It lets me know that you’re not so drunk I should be worried.”

  I roll my eyes but look away while waiting for the blush to leave my cheeks.

  Silence stretches between us, the sound of chattering, laughing, and throbbing music filling it up. I just start to think that perhaps he’s letting me off the hook for blushing, which would be a first for him, when I turn my head to look at him and see he’s staring at something across the room.

  I track his gaze across the tables surrounding us to the other side of the pool. Okay, it’s not a something that he’s staring at but a someone.

  She’s one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen. Long, flowing silver hair, skin that sparkles like the stars, and lips that look like rubies. And the red dress she’s wearing is just as shimmering as if crystals have been sewn into the fabric. And her eyes that look like the night sky are looking right at East.

  “Who is she?” I ask, glancing away from her and at East.

  He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even so much as look away from her. He just stares at her so intensely that I start to wonder if she’s a lover of his or something, which isn’t surprising. Faeries are known for having many lovers, which I guess kind of backs up what Asher was saying earlier about paranormals being okay with sharing.

  Anyway, what is surprising is the way my body reacts to the idea. A burning from inside me manifests. A deep burn that swells through my body and soaks into my mind.

  Holy shit, I might be jealous. It’s a relatively new feeling for me and freaks the bats out of me. I try to stifle it, but the more I focus on it, the evil green thing feeding inside me, the more tremulous I feel. Or maybe that’s because the booth is shaking …

  Shit, I’m losing control over my powers.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I breathe in and out, but it doesn’t help and the room trembles with it.

  Creatures pause from their conversations and glance around. East looks away from the female creature, his gaze gliding to me. He momentarily looks dazed, but then he snaps out of it, grabs ahold of me, and drags me onto his lap.

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispers while carrying my gaze. “Just breathe through whatever’s bothering you.”

  I inhale and exhale a few more times, and the shaking slowly starts to subside. Creatures return to their conversations as if nothing happened, as if the entire vehicle shaking isn’t a cause for concern.

  “Better?” he asks, skimming his fingertip down my cheek. When I give an uneven nod, he asks quietly, “What set it off this time?”

  I don’t want to tell him. At all. It’s way too embarrassing.

  “Who was that creature that you were staring at?” I ask instead.

  His expression immediately falls, and I know in that moment that whatever he’s about to say is bad.

  His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. “That is … was my master.”

  My eyes widen. “What?” I say a little too loudly.

  He gives me a pressing look, silently pleading with me to be quiet. “I said was. She’s not anymore.”

  I recall all the things I’ve learned about East and all the things I still don’t know about him. While he’s told me a few details about who he is, his past mostly remains a mystery.

  He must see all the questions written all over my face because he quickly says, “It was a very long time ago.” He gives my leg a gentle squeeze as he leans in and whispers in my ear, “And is definitely not the time to talk about this. There’s too many listening ears.”

  I sweep my gaze around the crowd. Several creatures are watching us, which I guess makes sense. East said that they signed an agreement not to approaching Ash East Arrow, but that doesn’t mean they can’t gawk. Although, are they staring because of that or because they know I’m the reason the room was shaking?

  I gulp at the idea, suddenly feeling like the freak that I am and wondering if everyone can see that.

  East’s gaze skims over my face. Then he moves me off my lap. When he stands up, I open my mouth to ask him where he’s going, but all he d
oes is offer me his hand. Confused, I take it, and he lifts me to my feet.

  I quickly tug at the hem of my dress then nervously peer around. Us standing up has attracted even more attention. Or maybe it’s just East. Probably.

  “Everyone’s staring at you,” I whisper, inching toward him as a male vampire smiles at me, flashing his fangs.

  “Are they?” He smiles at me amusedly as he steers me past the tables.

  “Why are you smiling about that?” I wonder, tucking my elbows in as they brush against the chest of faeries, werewolves, and all sorts of unrecognizable creatures.

  “Because I’m pretty sure they’re not all staring at me,” he explains with a smirk. “Some are looking at you.”

  “No, they’re not.” I tug at the hem of my dress self-consciously.

  “Yes, they are.” He dips his head, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re gorgeous as it is. But tonight, you’re extra sparkly. Plus, you have those beautiful legs on display.”

  We reach the dance floor where magic-created starlight gleams above us. He slows to a stop and twirls me around, causing me to giggle. Then he gives me one last twirl and pulls me back against him so my back is lined with his chest. With how low the back of my dress is and him being shirtless, it’s a lot of skin-to-skin contact. I’m not sure what to do with it. My heart, though, decides it’s going to freak out like a lunatic.

  “That giggle …” He snakes his arm around my waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

  He’s probably right. I rarely laugh. But life has always felt too heavy to find that much lightness in a moment. I guess, for a moment, though, that heaviness momentarily lifted.

  “That’s because I don’t laugh a lot,” I admit, unsure if I should push his arm off me or not.

  Conflicted. I’m so conflicted all the damn time that it’s starting to get annoying. I used to be so certain of everything. Or maybe it was everything was certain for me. My future had been laid out in front of me the moment that genie had taken my parents from me and cursed me. But then Asher told me that everything might not be certain for me anymore. That everything might be uncertain, and now I just feel confused.

  “You should,” he says, letting his other hand wander down my side. “The sound of it coming out of those pretty lips of yours is fucking mind dazing.”

  I roll my eyes, ignoring the glances I keep getting from a creature that I think might be an ogre. “Dude, you say the cheesiest lines sometimes.”

  “Absolutely,” he agrees as he begins to sway us to the throbbing rhythm of the song pulsating through the air. “But I think, deep down, you might like it.”

  I start to roll my eyes again when I realize what he’s doing. “Wait … We’re not dancing, are we? Because I can’t dance.”

  “Yes, you can, because you already are.” He moves us again to the beat.

  “Barely.” I clutch his arm, uneasiness trickling through me. “And only because you’re doing all the work. I’m just letting you guide my body around.”

  “So? You’re still dancing,” he assures me as he moves his body with mine. “Come on, sweetheart; dance with me. We need to appear as if we’re completely distracted by this party. It’ll make us seem vulnerable, which might make you-know-who come out of her little hiding hole.”

  “Oh, fine.” I grimace, knowing I’m going to look like an idiot. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I can’t dance. I haven’t ever tried. Living on the streets for as long as I did … there wasn’t much time for partying and dancing.”

  “Then I guess it’s time to make up for lost time,” he murmurs in my ear.

  Then, as the beat of the song picks up, he starts to move us quicker. At first, he keeps the movements simple, slow and steady. But the longer we move, the more sensual his grinding becomes. And so do mine.

  “You’re a natural,” he whispers in my ear as he spreads his fingers across my waist, making the hem of my dress move up a little.

  I shake my head. “No. I’m just doing what you’re guiding me to do.”

  “You’re still a natural.” He grinds his hips against my ass, and I shut my eyes as the scent of him overwhelms me.

  My head falls back against his chest as I slowly begin to relax. He groans softly, gripping my waist tighter. Then he traces his nose along the arch of my neck.

  “You always smell so good,” he whispers softly.

  As a shiver rolls through my body, I tense. I’m getting way too comfortable again. And this time, I barely even notice.

  “Don’t,” East says, holding on to me. “Please don’t overthink this. Just enjoy it.”

  I want to overthink it. I’ve spent years overthinking everything so I can control everything, so the curse won’t ever be put into play. And while half of my mind wants to seize that control again, because it feels safer, the other half wants to fall into the out of control.

  Maybe it’s the lingering faerie wine filling up my veins. Or maybe whatever sort of creature I am likes this whole touching and dancing thing. Or maybe this is just the real me. The real me that’s been hidden behind the curse.

  Whatever the reason, I find myself unwinding and relaxing against East.

  “That’s a good pet,” he teases.

  I tilt my head up and give him a dirty look, but he just grins. Then he pushes me away, twirls me around like he did earlier, and pulls me back against him. Then we start to move. And I mean really move, our bodies grinding to the rhythm, surrounded by creatures who are doing the same thing.

  The longer we move, the more East’s hands wander across my body. I should stop him, but I don’t want to. It feels so good as his hand travels up my side and rests just below my breast. And while I try to convince myself that I’m just playing a part, playing the role of the bands aftershow woman, I can’t keep the truth from myself. And the truth is I like him touching me. A lot. So much so that, when his hand travels over my breast, I don’t stop him. Instead, I gasp, closing my eyes as my heart pounds inside my chest.

  “You can tell me to stop,” he whispers in my ear, a hint of nervousness residing in his voice.

  An uneven breath falters from my lips.

  Nod, Harlynn.

  Instead, I find myself shaking my head.

  His fingers briefly stiffen, and then he cups my breast. I whimper, momentarily forgetting where I am.

  “Gods, this is better than I even imagined,” he moans in my ear. Then he presses his lips against mine.

  Startled, I suck a shaky breath through my nose and part my lips. He takes that as an open invitation, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. It’s the first time he’s kissed me. Well, besides the first time he put magic in me. I’d forgotten how sparkly he tastes. Wonderfully sparkly.

  I angle my head upward more and kiss him back. He groans again then pulls back.

  My eyelashes flutter open, and I find him looking down at me warily. My stomach starts to sink.

  Did I mess up?

  “I don’t want to be too rough with you,” he utters, removing his hand from my breast and traveling downward to my waist.

  One time, while Asher was kissing me and letting me grind my hips against his, he got this look on his face right before he asked me if I’d done this before. It was like he could see the inexperience written all over my face. That’s how I feel right now.

  “Why?” I find myself asking with a hint of challenge.

  He bites down on his bottom lip. “Sweetheart, you don’t even know what you’re asking about.”

  “So? It’s not like I’m afraid of anything.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “You know, this whole challenging and defiant attitude was amusing when it was going against me. But when it’s directed at me temptingly”—he gradually releases a breath—“it’s a dangerous game you’re playing, little mouse.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not your little mouse.”

  “Oh yeah?” he teases, still looking a little bit riled up.

  “Ye
ah.” Then, to prove I have the upper hand, I press my lips to his. It’s a bold move for me and, honestly, I’m just doing it to win this argument.

  The move seems to unleash whatever hesitancy had a hold of him, and he immediately turns the soft kiss into a sensual one, parting my lips with his tongue as he pulls me closer against him. With his fingers, he traces a path across my waist before creating a path upward to my breast again. He touches me then, in a way no one has ever touched me before.

  A faltering gasp fumbles from my lips as the strap of my dress starts to fall off my shoulder. Then his lips leave mine, trailing down my jawline to the arch of my neck where he bites and nips and licks until I feel like I’m about ready to start on fire.

  “East,” I mumble with my eyes shut as he sucks on my neck.

  I grip his arm, feeling like my legs are about to give out on me, and lean against him. With every kiss and suck and brush of his fingers, I drift further away from reality, nearly forgetting where I am. That is … until I smell the scent of frosting and cupcakes …

  My eyelids flutter open. Asher is standing in front of me, starlight flickering across his face. His eyes are dark, his lips are pressed together, and his arms are crossed over his lean, scarred chest. He has on eyeliner and his genie trademark cuffs, along with a pair of black pants and boots.

  When our eyes lock, I don’t know what to do. I mean, East is currently kissing my neck and touching me, our bodies welded so closely together that all I can feel is East. I know I’m supposed to be pretending to be the band’s aftershow woman, but this …

  This is really out of character for me.

  His dark gaze sweeps across my face as I contemplate whether or not I should move away from East. Before I can arrive at that conclusion, though, Asher steps toward me and fixes his finger underneath my chin.

  My heart is racing so swiftly that it pounds in my eardrums. I can sense something’s about to happen. Something I really doubt I’m ready for but know I can’t pull away. Not without it looking suspicious.

  “Relaxare, paulo fur. Sicut promisit, mihi si tibi cura tui,” he utters as East continues to kiss my neck.