Semi-Magical

by Isabel Jordan

  Yeah, sorry Cecelia, but you’re never getting this kid back. You had your turn, you blew it. She’s one of ours now.

  Haven reached up and patted Adrianne’s shoulder. “Of course I love you, silly Addy. And you love me, too. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Adrianne—Addy, Harper decided. It suited her—swallowed hard, still visibly struggling and failing to look tough. “I do, huh?”

  Harper smirked at her. “How could you not?”

  The corner of Addy’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly before she turned back to Haven. “I guess a sleepover wouldn’t kill me.”

  Haven squealed and started talking a million miles a minute as she planned their evening, while Addy smiled and nodded politely when necessary. Harper was glad Addy was being a good sport about the whole thing. Hanging out with a five-year-old couldn’t possibly be high on a teenager’s wish list.

  But when she pulled up to her mom’s driveway and saw how many cars were there, Harper had to wonder how long Addy’s accommodating mood would last.

  She was about to get the whole family experience times, oh, about four hundred.

  Haven glanced out the window and clapped, bouncing in her seat a little. “Yay! Everyone’s here to see you, Addy! This is going to be so much fun!”

  Time spent with Harper’s family was rarely ever fun. Disorienting? Sure. Loud and smothering? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. But fun? Not so much.

  “How did they all know?” Harper muttered, but just as soon as the words were out, she’d answered her own question. “Benny,” she and Haven said in stereo.

  Addy looked at all the cars in the driveway and paled a bit. “Um…they’re all here to see me?”

  Harper sighed. “Yeah, sorry, kiddo. You’re about to get welcomed into the family the hard way. Bygones?”

  Even though she looked terrified, Addy squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes in determination before saying, “Bygones.”

  Brave, Harper thought. Just like her dad. Too bad the poor kid had no idea what she was in for.

  Chapter Four

  Harper opened the door and was met with utter chaos. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she’d just walked into the center ring of some kind of paranormal circus.

  The place had recently been remodeled and now featured a completely open-concept living room/dining room/kitchen, which allowed visitors to take in all the craziness of the family at once.

  From her spot in the doorway, Harper had a clear view of her sister-in-law, Seven, who had Quinn, her newest dhampyre employee (and brother-in-law…that was taking some getting used to) in a headlock. It looked like she was trying to get him to tap out. His face was purple, but he was stubbornly still struggling, while Seven looked like she could go on like that all day.

  Her sister, Marina, who was hugely pregnant and looked like she was about to give birth at any moment, sat on the couch with her feet up on the upholstered ottoman, cackling like a crazy person as she ate dill pickle chips straight from the jar and watched her husband try to break Seven’s unbreakable hold on his neck.

  Harper’s best friend, Mischa, and her husband, Hunter, were in the kitchen chatting with Tina, who appeared to be using every pot, pan, and kitchen appliance she had to prepare some kind of feast. Harper sniffed the garlic-infused air. Lasagna. Her mouth watered. No one made lasagna like Tina Petrocelli. It was practically orgasmic.

  And finally, just to add to the insanity, Seven’s husband, Lucas, was playing tug-of-war with his dog, Lucky, in the middle of the room. Lucky was normally a giant, slobbering, three-legged, one-eyed ball of love, but when he played tug-of-war, he was out for blood. Anyone who didn’t know what a cuddlebug Lucky was might be scared of the pit bull’s deep, guttural growls and snarls as he fought Lucas for control of the old, dirty rope that he clearly wanted more than his next breath.

  So, in other words, it was a totally normal day at Tina Petrocelli’s house.

  Haven clapped her hands and threw herself into the melee with gusto. Her first stop, as always, was Uncle Lucas. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed with everything she had.

  “Uncle Lucas,” she said as she clung to him like a spider monkey, “Addy’s finally here!”

  Lucas hoisted a giggling Haven onto his shoulders. “I see that, Peanut.”

  Harper glanced back at Addy, who was now practically cowering behind her, biting on her thumbnail, looking like she wished the floor would swallow her up at any moment. Poor kid.

  She put an arm around Addy’s shoulders and pulled her closer to her side. “Don’t panic, OK?” she whispered. “They’ll all love you. Ready for some introductions?”

  When Addy nodded, Harper held a hand up to her family and friends. “All right, guys, Addy’s already a little overwhelmed, so let’s save all the smothering love for when she’s a little more settled in. Polite and subdued greetings, yes?”

  Shrugs, frowns, and a few grumbles ensued, but Harper took all that for agreement and started the introductions.

  “Addy, this beautiful woman who looks quite a lot like you is your aunt—Riddick’s sister—Seven. She’s a dhampyre, also like you and your dad, but just for funsies, she’s also telekinetic. So if you ever need something off a high shelf, you can ask her for help. God knows I always do.”

  Seven, with her nearly waist-length, curly chestnut hair and big blue eyes that were almost an identical match to Addy’s, gave her a crooked smile. “I know exactly how you feel,” Seven said. “This place—these people—it can be…a bit much. But you’ll get used to it. You belong here.”

  These two would be close, Harper realized immediately. Other than Riddick, there was probably no one on earth with a better understanding of what Addy was going through than Seven.

  Seven had been raised practically from birth to be a Sentry cleaner, which was basically just a pretty euphemism for a professional supernatural assassin. She’d been alone her whole life and didn’t even realize she belonged in this giant, crazy family until a few years ago. The change from totally alone to family crawling out of the woodwork hadn’t been easy for her, but she’d managed it like a pro. She’d be a huge help to Addy.

  When Addy gave Seven a shy nod and a closed-lip smile, Harper gestured to Lucas. “And this is the idiot werewolf Seven married. She’s way out of his league, but I guess he’s super- lucky.”

  She was kidding, of course. Lucas was great. He was Seven’s perfect match in every conceivable way. And as a shifter, he was in a unique position to understand what Seven dealt with as a supernatural being herself. But saying all that nice stuff wasn’t any fun, so Harper usually stuck with insults when it came to Lucas.

  True to form, Lucas looked her right in the eye while brushing a lock of dark blond hair off his forehead with his middle finger. “Thanks, Harper. Always the flatterer.” He gave Addy a warm smile and added, “She’s not wrong, though. I am super-lucky. It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

  Addy blushed a little at his endearment, but still managed to give him a smile in return. Her smile grew when Lucky nudged her hand and gave her his big, slobbery, doggy grin.

  “I see Lucky has already introduced himself,” Harper said, “so I’ll introduce you to my sister, Marina. She’s the one on the couch with the beach-ball belly and the mouth full of pickle chips. She’s the only one in the room with no powers whatsoever, except maybe fertility.”

  Marina shot Harper a pretty clear fuck-you glare, then smiled and gave Addy a wave.

  “And the big dhampyre who was busy getting his ass kicked by Seven is Quinn, Marina’s husband,” Harper went on.

  Quinn rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “If I’d had a few more minutes I couldn’t gotten out of that hold,” he grumbled.

  Lucas smothered his response of “bullshit” with a cough.

  “The power couple over there,” Harper said, gesturing to Mischa and Hunter, “are my friends Mischa and Hunter. They run the Vampire Council. You’ll probably meet their daught
er Lane—she’s five-going-on-forty and they just adopted her from an orphanage in China—later tonight. She’s with Mischa’s mom right now.”

  Mischa and Hunter offered her welcoming smiles, but Addy still shuddered like she had spiders crawling down her back. That was a pretty typical reaction from the supernatural community. Mischa and Hunter’s combined power was like a roll of thunder rumbling across the night sky. It was awesome and a little scary to know one or both of them could crush just about anyone, anywhere, anytime. She gave Addy’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

  “And last but not least,” Harper said, “the little woman with the poufy blonde hair and the apron that says ‘The only thing better than being Italian is being Sicilian’ is my mom, Tina Petrocelli.”

  Addy bit her thumbnail and muttered a polite, “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  Tina wiped her hands on her apron as she gazed at Addy with naked love in her eyes. Harper shot her a warning glance. “Go easy, Ma.”

  But when Tina’s lower lip started to quiver, Harper knew that easy wasn’t an option. Tina proved her right by grabbing Addy and pulling her into a bone-crunching hug.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, rocking Addy—who hung limp in her embrace like a rag doll—back and forth. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re here. And you call me Grandma, OK?”

  Tina stepped back, but didn’t let go of Addy. She frowned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear, because you’re gorgeous. But you’re so thin!” She gave Addy’s arms a squeeze. “You’re nothing but bones! What have they been feeding you?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Everyone in the room knew that. Tina thought they were all too thin and that it was her job to feed them. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, Addy,” Harper said.

  Tina shot her a look that suggested she’d just said the stupidest thing in the world before wrapping her arm around Addy’s shoulders and guiding her to the kitchen. “Of course she’ll eat,” Tina said confidently.

  “It does smell really good, ma’am…um, Grandma,” Addy said with a shy smile, not looking all that overwhelmed anymore.

  And that’s when Harper was sure that Addy was going to be OK. Maybe all she really needed was her grandma to put her at ease. Who knew?

  Chapter Five

  Harper had been on her way to the airport when Riddick texted and told her he’d caught an earlier flight, taken a cab to the office, and was finishing the paperwork on the skip trace he’d collected in Austin. She probably broke every traffic law there was—and maybe a few land speed records—on her way there. Riddick had waited so long to be able to spend time with his daughter, and Harper didn’t want him to have to wait another minute.

  She threw open her office door. “Hey, Riddick? Where are you? You’re never going to believe…oomph!”

  She didn’t finish her sentence because suddenly there he was, right in front of her, slamming her back against the wall. His lips fused to hers, swallowing whatever she’d been about to say.

  Harper let her head thunk back against the wall as her eyes rolled back from the sudden onslaught of pleasure. Her legs wrapped around his waist when he lifted her up, and she fisted the fabric of his T-shirt.

  “Riddick,” she said on a moan. “We need to talk. There’s something I need—”

  “There’s something I need, too,” he practically growled against her lips. Then he rolled his hips against her and she felt exactly what he needed and just how much he needed it.

  Yippee! her body shouted, as her brain tried its hardest to remind her they needed to talk.

  But her body shut her brain down hard when he gave her bottom lip a sharp nip and growled before slipping his hand between them, right into her jeans. Harper let out a shocked gasp as he nudged her panties aside and slid two fingers up into her.

  Riddick tore his mouth away from hers, ducking his head down to look her in the eye. “No more out-of-town skip traces,” he said in that rumbly, raspy baritone of his.

  It was well established that he could pretty much read a grocery list to her and just about get her off with the power of his voice alone. Her knees weakened and her reply to his decree was nothing more than a sigh of pure pleasure.

  “I can’t be away from you for that long anymore,” he went on, his eyes as hot and urgent and needy as he was making her feel. “It kills me. I need you close. Every day.”

  He raised a brow at her like he expected a response. But he knew her well enough to realize that when he was this close, touching her, telling her how much he needed her, there was no way in hell she could say no to him. If he wanted a kidney, world peace, and the last Reese’s cup on the planet, she’d give him all of it.

  “No more out-of-town travel,” she promised.

  Then he started moving his fingers in and out of her slowly—tauntingly, torturously slow. It was like the only thing on his to-do list for the day was her. His eyes stayed locked with hers as he drove her out of her mind.

  “We really do need to talk,” she whispered.

  “We will. After.”

  “After what?”

  He curled his fingers inside her, teasing her G-spot, making her moan obscenely loud, which made him smile. It was a wolf’s smile. The kind of smile the Big Bad Wolf flashed at Little Red Riding Hood before he ate her alive. “After I make you come on my tongue,” he said.

  And with that, he dropped down to his knees, tugged her jeans and panties down in one swift motion, and drove his tongue into her.

  Hardly able to catch her breath, Harper threaded her fingers into his thick, dark hair and held on for dear life as he rewarded her with the kind of oral that could make grown women weep with joy. The kind of oral you don’t even believe really exists until it happens to you. The kind of oral that poets and songwriters should write about. The kind of oral that could make you come so hard you were dehydrated for two days afterwards. Because while Riddick didn’t ever say much, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a god with his tongue.

  It took no more than four flicks of his tongue and he had her coming, long and loud, writhing and calling his name.

  That was one of the benefits of marriage, Harper had decided long ago. Riddick knew her body probably better than she did because they’d been married—and having sex pretty much every night—for so long now.

  Or maybe it was the fact that Riddick had an amazingly talented tongue, the body of a Greek god, and the face of a fallen angel. Hell, even if they hadn’t been married for so long, he could probably sneeze on her and she’d come in under five seconds.

  Harper was still trying to catch her breath as the aftershocks of her orgasm rumbled through her when she realized she’d slid halfway down the wall. Her knees had apparently turned to pudding at some point.

  Riddick didn’t seem to mind, though. He put his shoulder into her stomach, upended her, and stalked across the room to her desk. Gently, he put her on her desk-face down, so that she was bent over it.

  “I thought we were going to talk,” she said, not entirely surprised to find that her words were slurred. Sex-drunk. That’s what she was.

  He didn’t seem to care as he tugged her shoes, pants, and panties off and slid a knee between her legs to spread them wider. “We will,” he answered.

  Riddick leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of her. She shivered as his breath slid over her neck. “But first, you’re going to want to hold on.”

  Nothing had ever sounded better. Or felt better, she decided, as he pressed his body against her back. The feel of all that strength and…maleness…on her sweat-slicked skin was utterly intoxicating.

  He licked his way up the curve of her neck and nipped at her earlobe, which made her practically purr and push her hips back up against him.

  “You are so fucking sexy,” he growled in her ear. “I missed you so much.”

  She’d missed him terribly, too. But she couldn’t say that. Words were beyond her, it would seem.

  Riddick wrapped an arm arou
nd her hips, raising her up, and a shudder of anticipation rolled through her when she heard the rasp of his zipper as he tugged it down.

  That’s when she found her words again. Thank God she hadn’t been rendered permanently mute by his tongue. “Yes,” she panted. “Now. I need you, too.”

  He plunged into her in one sure, hard thrust. She gasped as her hands fisted on the corners of the desk. Dropping her forehead to the desk, she idly wondered if this was how she was going to die—from a sex-induced heart attack. Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure people two towns over could hear it. It couldn’t possibly be healthy to be that turned on.

  He went still. “You OK?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

  “Oh, fuck, yes. Don’t you dare stop!”

  He thrust into her again, his hands tightening on her hips and she moaned so loud she startled herself.

  “Fuck,” he said, sounding pained. “I’ll never get enough of you. It’s been too fucking long and you feel too good. I’m not gonna last, but I swear I’ll make it up to you later.”

  Yes, yes, later. Whatever! Just fuck me now! The harder and faster the better!

  That’s what she wanted to say, but all that came out was a choked cry and a few garbled cuss words as he slid a hand underneath her and brushed a calloused fingertip over her clit. Her whole body clenched in anticipation of her next orgasm. And that orgasm wasn’t far off.

  He made a sound of pure, primal, male satisfaction. “That’s it, sunshine. Let me hear you. Come for me again.”

  His name slipped from her lips like a prayer as he picked up his pace, pounding into her over and over again while his fingers worked her over, almost rough—deliciously rough—in their urgency.

  Harper gripped the desk harder and pushed her hips back against him until her orgasm rolled over her like thunder. It was sharp and way more intense than her first. She screamed—literally screamed—so loud that this time, she was half afraid anyone having dinner at Peking Garden two buildings over would call the cops, thinking someone was being murdered over here.