Magic Untamed

by J. N. Colon

  That was so true.

  I snatched the pillow from her. “You guys are weird. He’s just a guy.” I almost choked on that lie. Etie Benoit was much more than that.

  “Is he a good kisser?” Riley asked, climbing off the bed.

  He knew how to make my toes curl with one look. His kisses were downright lethal. They should be outlawed.

  Lana leaned against my dresser, absentmindedly picking up a necklace. “Is it true—what they say about him and his brother? Do they practice voodoo?”

  “Of course not.” The words came too quick, and the girls traded glances.

  Riley gave a half smile. “Come on, Angel. All that talk can’t be lies.”

  “Yeah.” Lana dropped the necklace back on my dresser and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what they say about rumors. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Her dark eyes were too damn knowing. “There has to be some truth to what people in Carrefour say.”

  I swallowed hard and twisted the ends of my hair. I’d rather they go back to grilling me on my relationship with Etie. “Voodoo is just a religion, guys. It’s not like people think.” I gave a weak laugh. “Do you really think he goes around casting spells and hexing people?”

  “Yes,” Lana admitted. “That’s exactly what I think he does.”

  I groaned and rubbed my temples. This was not how I pictured reconnecting with my friends after their trip to Spain.

  “Enough about voodoo.” Riley crawled to the end of my bed and sat on the edge, fluffing out her dress. “Who cares if he and Bastien hex a few people from time to time.”

  Lana scoffed. “I do.”

  Riley waved her hand dismissively. “There are more important things we need to know about our bestie’s new boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I clarified.

  “What else should we know about him?” Lana asked, ignoring my protests.

  Riley bit her bottom lip, slowly curling a lock of deep auburn hair around her finger. “What does he taste like?”

  That was easy. “Candy.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  I fell back on the bed with a dramatic sigh, thankful Riley’s one-track mind had saved me from Lana’s interrogation. “Étienne Benoit has the sweetest mouth I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.” The handful of guys I’d kissed couldn’t even remotely compare to the Cajun Casanova.

  Riley wildly clapped, jostling me. “How did you guys hook up? Did he come up to you one day and start talking?”

  “Nothing like that,” I said, rolling onto my stomach and propping my chin in my hand. “He and Bastien are working on restoring the old Leroux mansion. My grandmother got me a summer job with them.” Of course there was a little more to it involving a certain dark voodoo loa and a deal.

  “Wait. What?” Lana stretched out on my other side, tossing her glossy midnight and blue locks over her shoulder. “One, why would your grandmother get you a job? Two, why would she get you a job with the Benoits? Everyone in Carrefour knows the rumors.”

  The rumors were exactly why Abuela had gotten me the job with Etie.

  “Evangeline!” A persistent knock rattled my door. “Come downstairs, niña. I made breakfast.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

  Riley blinked. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “Are you and your grandmother fighting about something?” Lana’s dark eyes attempted to penetrate the thick shell around me. “You guys never fight.”

  We never used to fight because I was a pushover and thought my grandmother was as close to perfect as you could get. She proved me wrong.

  Riley gasped and sat up. “Does she not want you and Etie together?” She laid her hand over her heart. “Oh my gawd. It’s so Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Hold your horses, Shakespeare.” She was fine with me seeing Etie—when he needed to help me. Now that he had by binding our souls, she was a little less thrilled by his constant presence. “She doesn’t dislike him. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “Evangeline.” The knocking continued. “If you don’t want to eat, I’m sure Lana and Riley would love some French toast.”

  Lana’s stomach growled on cue. “Sorry, dude, but I’ve been without her cooking for weeks. I need my fix.”

  “Me too.” Riley bit her lip to hide the wry smile trying to break through.

  “Fine,” I relented. “Let’s go.”

  They both scrambled off the bed, and Riley yanked the door open, the smell of breakfast already wafting up the stairs.

  “Hola, girls.” My grandmother gave them a brilliant smile. She was already dressed in tan linen pants and a soft sea-foam blouse. “I’m so glad to have you back. I’m sure Evangeline is too.”

  I passed her without making eye contact, but she was quickly on my heels.

  “You can’t ignore me forever, Evangeline,” she said.

  “Until you stop ignoring my questions about magic and my powers, I don’t see any reason to carry on a conversation with you,” I hissed between gritted teeth. “If you’d like to apologize for screwing with my life and Etie’s, I’d at least listen to that.”

  She scoffed. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to save you.”

  Abuela was about as stubborn as the summer sun in Louisiana. When it finally went down after a long, hot day, the heat still lingered to remind you it would be back in a few short hours.

  “And don’t think I didn’t hear Étienne sneak in last night.”

  Once again, my cheeks burned, but I let anger wash away the mortification. “You wanted us together.” I glanced at my father’s picture before descending the stairs, saying a silent good morning. I was mad at him too for his part in keeping this huge secret about our family from me. We were witches for crap sakes! But Cristóbal De la Mora was gone and couldn’t defend himself or apologize. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all, right?

  “I wanted your deal with Baron Samedi broken.” Abuela’s collection of necklaces tinkled as she followed me down the stairs. “I didn’t mean for you and Etie to become…bound.”

  “Yeah, well, didn’t you ever hear the saying be careful what you wish for?” As my foot left the last step, I darted ahead of my friends, cutting off our tense conversation. Too bad the residual effects still lingered, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

  The breakfast bar in the kitchen was piled high with French toast, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Marisol sat at the other end, a loaded plate in front of her.

  How was my older sister not three hundred pounds? She ate like an NFL linebacker.

  “Hey, chicas!” She spoke with a mouth full of French toast, syrup dripping down her chin.

  If only the guys in Carrefour could see her now. Who was I kidding? They’d step over each other for a chance to lick that syrup off.

  Riley climbed on the seat next to me. “You’re looking good as usual, Marisol.”

  Lana took the stool on the other side of the redhead. “Guess those college boys didn’t drive you nuts.”

  My sister laughed around a bite of bacon. “Please. Those guys are little baby seals compared to me.” She winked. “I’m a big bad great white.”

  I shook my head and fought a smile. “I thought you had a boyfriend.”

  She shrugged. “I have a friend who’s a boy that I’m currently seeing.”

  I still hadn’t officially met this Jesse guy she ensnared at Tulane. He was staying with his aunt who happened to be our neighbor, Ms. Delphine.

  The world was even smaller than I thought.

  Marisol finally swallowed and took a break from inhaling her breakfast. “Tell me all about Spain.”

  Lana and Riley launched into an exuberant, detailed account of their vacation—the one I wasn’t allowed to go on. I wasn’t sour about that anymore. If I’d gone, Baron Samedi would have collected his debt, and I’d be in the spirit world serving my sentence.
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  My fingers absentmindedly skimmed over the toujou, my mind drumming up images of my mysterious Cajun with a sweet tooth the size of Texas. Abuela caught the movement, her eyes narrowing infinitesimally. Why was she so worried about Etie and me being bound? He sacrificed his own happiness to save my life. What was her problem?

  “Toma, niña.” She handed me a plate of French toast and bacon.

  I pushed it back toward her. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

  Her lips thinned. “You need to eat, Evangeline.”

  “I’ll eat when I’m hungry,” I hissed.

  We glared at each other, Lana and Riley oblivious to the tension between us. Thankfully, Marisol was keeping them engrossed in their conversation about their trip.

  Abuela roughly tucked a stray lock of midnight and silver hair back into her low bun. “Are you going to act like a brat all summer?”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m not acting like a brat. I’m angry, and I have every right to be.” Electricity began to tickle my skin, a warning my powers were rising toward the surface. “My family kept me in the dark about what I was and still refuses to tell me more.” My eyes glanced at my friends to make sure they weren’t paying attention. “You won’t even help me understand what I am.”

  I was a bruja but also a conduit, some freakishly strong magical channel that could magnify others’ powers or steal them. That was all I knew. Etie was trying to help me understand, but I had the biggest source right in front of me, and the woman refused to give me even one tiny tidbit of information. My mother was no better, maybe even worse. All I received from her were tight lips and silent responses.

  Energy zipped down my spine, and sparks lit the air. Before I could stop it—not that I knew how—power hit the air. The microwave shuddered, and the door violently crashed open.

  Riley and Lana jumped, their eyes wide as smoke poured from the kitchen appliance above the counter.

  Abuela let lose several curse words in Spanish as she sprinted over, slamming the door shut and trapping the smoke inside.

  “What the hell?” Marisol mumbled, her dark eyes flickering in my direction. Clearly, I’d caused the strange malfunction. Who else? She was lucky her powers were still bound.

  “What in the world happened?” Lana’s gaze circled around the room, her brows knit.

  Marisol gave a nervous laugh. “The house needs rewiring.”

  So we were still going with that old theory?

  “I’ve got to get ready for work.” I jumped off the stool and flashed my friends a forced smile. “You guys can stay and eat. I’ll see you later.” I stormed out of the kitchen, feeling Lana’s dark, suspicious eyes on me all the way around the corner.

  Chapter 3

  The tall lamp in the corner flickered. I wanted to blame it on the faulty wiring, but the electricians finished the entire Leroux house yesterday. It was me. Plain and simple. Or rather my freaky, uncontrollable powers.

  The paint roller splattered tiny white speckles along my arm as I dragged it across the bedroom wall. I was still stewing about all my unanswered questions. Abuela and my mother knew the kind of chaos I’d caused this week. Shouldn’t they want to help me understand how to tone down the Sabrina the Teenage Witch act? What if my powers went rogue, and I did something unexplainable in front of a crowd?

  Ms. Unrue would have a field day. She’d probably start a rumor that the Benoits had tainted me with their voodoo.

  A smile curled my lips thinking of the youngest Benoit. He’d certainly tainted me with something. That Cajun Casanova was too damn hot for his own good.

  “What are you thinking about, Angel?” Bastien strolled in. The sunlight streaming through the windows picked up the natural gold highlights in his hair. “From that naughty smile, I bet it’s my little brother.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You two playing nice?”

  I rolled my eyes, but it was hard to deny the truth when it was written all over my face. “Aren’t you supposed to be working in the basement?”

  He leaned against the wall and withdrew a cigarette from his pocket. “It’s too damn hot down there, cher. And stop trying to change the subject.” He winked one of those mischievous amber eyes. “I believe we were talking about you and my brother.”

  I turned back to the wall as my cheeks heated. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Bastien’s chuckle held nothing but trouble. “He might as well move in with you.”

  “He’s only stayed over twice.” My gaze flickered toward him, narrowing. “Right?”

  His expression said it all. I’d apparently missed the Cajun Casanova’s presence a time or two. “He’s been gone more than he’s been home.”

  A growl bubbled in my throat. “Just wait until I see him.”

  “Ah now, don’t give him a hard time.” Bastien leaned away from the wall and tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “He just don’t like being so far from you. It’s only been a week since you became his alimèt.”

  “I know.” Alimèt was the voodoo word for soulmate. I dropped the roller back into the pan, scooping up the last little bit of white. “Neither of us really know how to handle this soulbind thing.”

  “The gwo-bon lyen ain’t all I’m talking about,” Bastien said. “He’s worried for you. Baron Samedi isn’t the type to give up on what he wants, cher.” The oldest Benoit could pretend to be as carefree as he wanted, but when it came to Etie, he was serious about protecting his little brother. It wasn’t an easy job especially when Etie was one of the most powerful voodoo casters this side of the Mississippi.

  “He won’t get me.” My voice was more confident than I felt.

  “Not with Etie watching over you.” The smile returned to his face. “Just give the guy a break, yeah?”

  I nodded, not really sure what I agreed to. Did he want me to let Etie hover and boss me around because it might keep me safe? That wasn’t likely to happen.

  A creak echoed right before Antoine sauntered into the room with dramatic flair. “You’ll never guess who I just got a call from, Bastien.” His dark eyes flickered toward me, and he wiggled his fingers. “Hey, pretty girl. You gave that boy downstairs your golden ticket yet?”

  My mouth dropped. “None of your business,” I sputtered, thankful my tan hid most of the blush spreading across my skin. No, Etie and I had not gone there.

  Yet.

  I licked my lips picturing the sexy voodoo Cajun in my bed this morning.

  “Hmm… from that look on your face, I’d say it’s only a matter of time, sugar.” Antoine ran his hand over his smooth, dark head. “He’s going to rock your little Puerto Rican world.”

  “Oh my gawd.” I turned back to the wall. “I’m not even going to respond to that.”

  “Because you know it’s true.” Antoine’s laughter was as theatrical as he was.

  And the little flutter in my stomach agreed with him. Ugh.

  “What do you got for me, Anty?” Bastien asked, temporarily distracting his friend from my love life.

  “Rosie Dallas done caught that Thomas Wilson cheating on her.” Antoine shook his head. “That dumb bastard. He picked the wrong woman to scorn.”

  A wide, toothy grin split Bastien’s mouth. “She wants a little voodoo curse on him.” He rubbed his hands together. “My favorite.”

  Anyone in town could be a paying customer of Bastien’s. From the mayor—who should have an MVP card—to Ms. Beauchamp and even little Ms. Finkle who owned the cutest flower shop. I’d have a heart attack if I caught Ms. Unrue at the Benoit’s swamp looking for a voodoo spell.

  The white paint began to run out on the roller, and I sighed at the empty pan. “Is there any more of this eggshell something or another color?”

  Bastien glanced over his shoulder, taking a break from writing down a list of spell ingredients on a small notepad. “We just picked some more up. It’s in the truck outside.”

  “Thanks.” I dropped the roller into the pan and headed into the hall and down the stairs. Memories
of painstaking hours working those damn spindles with sandpaper gave me the chills. Never again did I want to see another piece of that gritty crap.

  Summer was in full swing in Carrefour and hotter than Hades. It needed to rain, but not one single cloud was in sight. What was in sight when I came around the corner was way better than any storm cloud. Etie was hammering nails into new wooden planks on the front porch, shirtless.

  Ave Maria.

  Sweat trickled down those rock-hard abs, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. I licked my lips as if I could taste his sweetness. His damp hair was pushed back from his tan face, a few unruly strands falling forward. His jaw was working, crunching up another piece of candy. As if sensing me, his mismatched eyes lifted, piercing me with a scorching look.

  Hot-freaking-tamale. I resisted the urge to check my chin for drool.

  “Angeline.” His tongue flicked out, licking those sugar-flavored lips. “Like what you see, cher?”

  Oh did I.

  I swallowed the words back and instead gave him the one finger salute. “Don’t get overheated, voodoo caster. I’m just passing by to get some paint.”

  His deep chuckle did funny things to my insides. “I ain’t the only one who needs to cool off.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  I watched Etie through my lashes and climbed into the bed of the truck, absentmindedly searching for the paint pail of eggshell white. Etie looked right at home with a hammer in his hand and sweat clinging to his bronzed skin. I could never picture him in a boring, clean-cut desk job. He’d rather die than sit in a vanilla-colored office with the A.C. bumping and the monotonous drone of computer keys.

  Muscles twisted and stretched as he worked. His hand brushed back wild locks of hair from those mesmerizing eyes. That said hand had been on me not long ago. So had those soft, puckered lips tracing a line down my neck.

  The tattoo on my collarbone tingled, and Etie’s head snapped up. His mouth twitched.

  My cheeks flooded with heat. That sinful look told me he knew exactly what I’d been thinking about. Perfect. Just perfect.

  I shook my head, dispersing naughty thoughts of the Cajun and found the gallon of paint. By the time I grabbed the handle and turned toward the tail of the truck to climb out, Etie was standing there, all six-foot-something of muscle and hotness blocking my way.