Magic and Mayhem: Witchin' A Ride (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sharon Saracino

  “I realize that. And you’re right. Even at this distance I can see he’s probably a serial killer at best, but I did warn you about my little problem with orders.” I stroked his head hoping to soothe his frustration. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “First, we keep an eye on him and see if we can determine which truck is his. Then when he goes inside, we climb in the back and stow away.”

  “Why do I have a sinking feeling you’re making this sound a helluva lot easier than it is?” I huffed out.

  “Because you’re a smart girl?” He laughed and rubbed the soft fur on the side of his face under my jaw. “You can do this, Ella. I have faith in you.”

  “You do remember how well that worked out for us last time?” I straightened, my attention diverted to the group of men breaking apart with a burst of raucous laughter. Our unsuspecting chauffeur opened the door of one of the trucks and tossed something inside, then slammed it, and lumbered off behind the others around the opposite side of the building, presumably making for the entrance.

  “Second truck on the left,” Garrett announced, squirming from beneath the blanket and jumping from my lap. “Leave the crate,” he added, as I reached for the pet carrier. “And your purse. We need to travel light from here on out.”

  I fished my small amount of remaining cash from my bag and shoved it in my pocket. I supposed I could live without the crumpled tissues, stale chewing gum, and packages of broken crackers that littered the bottom. Garrett’s tail whipped back and forth as I tossed both the carrier and my bag in the dumpster, and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders like a superhero cape.

  “Ready now?”

  “Ready.” I nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go. Second truck on the left.” I rolled my eyes, since he’d felt compelled to repeat himself. I was directionally challenged, not senile. We took off, sprinting across the shadowed lot. Garrett went in one direction, I went in the other.

  “Your other left,” he called out with a laugh.

  I spun ninety degrees without missing a beat, and met him at the designated trailer. “I knew that. Just checking for stray truckers.”

  “Of course you were.”

  He sprang onto the rear bumper, and waved a paw indicating I should do the same. I finally managed to scramble onto it, tangling my legs in the blanket in the process, and stood. An errant gust of wind kicked up, knocking me off balance, and nearly off my perch. Arms flailing like a windmill in a hurricane, my fingers brushed against a T-shaped handle jutting from the center of the door. I grabbed and clung to it with white-knuckled desperation, flattened and panting against the cool metal panel.

  “I see why you gave up dancing,” Garrett snorted. “Clearly, your grace and fluidity made all the other little witches jealous. Okay, crank the handle to the—uh, towards me.”

  “I’ll have you know I am an excellent dancer,” I grunted, wrestling with the latch. I froze as it gave way with a loud, metallic groan. I held my breath, releasing it only after several long seconds passed and no one appeared to investigate the noise. “And when I get my magic back, I will make you eat those words. Have you noticed no matter where we are, it gets windy? And the wind smells like ass? Do you think that green headed doughnut thief is following us?”

  “Maybe your Bobo Shishi has her watching out for you. Now grab the handle on the bottom and lift the door.”

  “It’s Baba Yaga, and if that’s the case, I sure wish she chose a guardian angel who didn’t reek. You’re awfully good at barking out commands, Colonel Ball-licker.” I squatted to grip the handle and yank on it like a Russian weightlifter performing a clean-and-jerk.

  “For Goddess sake, Louella!” Garrett paced the length of the bumper like a sentry on patrol with his tail switching. “Don’t you think I’d much rather do it myself?”

  “That makes two of us.” I groaned. My dreams of qualifying for Olympic gold were dashed when I succeeded only in raising the door a measly eight inches, and possibly rupturing every intervertebral disc in my lower back. Oh. My. Goddess. I straightened slowly, sucking air through my teeth against the sharp, hot pain. I released it with a pathetic whimper I tried, and failed, to suppress.

  “Dammit, you’re hurt.” Garrett rushed to my side and planted his paws on my thigh, stretching up on his hindquarters and straining to peer into my face. I turned my head away and blinked back tears. They would only make him feel more helpless than I knew he already did. If only I could figure out how to break the spell.

  “I’m fine,” I croaked. “Go ahead, get inside. I think I can squeeze myself through.” At least I hoped I could, because I sure as hell couldn’t lift the door again.

  “Ladies first.” Garrett rubbed his cheek against my leg and then sat back. “Take it easy. I’ll keep watch until you’re inside.”

  “I’ll try.” I lowered myself gingerly, and shoved the blanket inside. Then balancing my butt on the wide bumper, I poked my feet through the opening. My legs cooperated beautifully, but my derriere, who’d never met a doughnut it didn’t like, fought the tight confinement. Finally, I managed to squeeze my cheeks together enough to compress and force them beneath the door. Which helpfully produced an ass cramp that took my breath away.

  “You’re almost there.” Garrett’s voice was tight with anxiety.

  “I’m halfway there,” I hissed. “And frankly, I think the only way to get the remaining half inside is to leave my boobs in the parking lot.”

  “Not an option, and I hear voices. Time to pick up the pace, Buttercup.”

  I grasped the underside of the door and resumed my efforts to shimmy through the gap. Garrett’s body brushed the length of mine as he slipped inside, climbed up on my belly, and mashed at my breasts with his paws as I wriggled and squirmed.

  “Helluva time to cop a feel,” I muttered.

  “A cat’s gotta take what he can get,” he shot back, jumping down as my boobs burst inside and my shoulders and head followed. “Hurry, close the door.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I huffed, sprawled flat on my back. But, I heard voices now, too. If the axe murder noticed the door open, he would no doubt investigate, and the jig would be up. I’d have cramped my ass, squished my boobs, and severed my spine for no good reason, and we’d be without a ride. Not to mention the outside risk of death and dismemberment. I rolled over and struggled to my feet. Planting one foot on the lip at the base of the door, I braced myself and pushed down with everything I had left, which wasn’t much. Thank Goddess the big aluminum panel dropped into place with a lot less effort than it required to raise it.

  The darkness was absolute. I stuck my hands out, feeling my way to the side of the trailer. Leaning against it, I slid to the floor with a grateful groan. I patted around the floor until my fingers touched the corner of the blanket. I rolled it into a ball and shoved it behind my back. My stomach clenched in alarm when I detected the low buzz of conversation and the door latch rattled. Then the metal squealed and groaned as the bolt clunked into place. There was a muffled sound of a door slamming, and the floor vibrated as the truck’s engine fired.

  “Figures we’d get the only axe murderer on the planet paranoid enough to double check the lock. We’re trapped, aren’t we?”

  “Only until someone opens the door. Don’t panic, Ella. It’ll be fine.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” Of course, I couldn’t do anything about the current predicament, so I tried to follow Garrett’s advice and not panic. Much. “What are the chances this guy is hauling pillow-top mattresses with silk sheets and goose down comforters?” I sighed as the vehicle lurched into motion.

  “Slim to none,” Garrett replied, stretching out next to my leg.

  “So, I suppose a chiropractor is out of the question?”

  “Afraid so. Aside from us, the trailer is empty. How bad is the pain?”

  “It’s feeling better now.” As long as I didn’t move. Or breathe. Or blink.

  “Liar. Spread the blanket and lie on your
stomach,” he ordered, as his weight along my leg disappeared.

  “Is this another one of your progressive muscle relaxation techniques,” I asked, praying to the Goddess for the courage—and ability—to move. “Because that really didn’t work for me.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “You betcha.” I reached behind me and cautiously tugged the blanket free. Blindly, I flung it outward, hoped for the best, and crawled forward.

  “Hang on a minute,” Garrett mumbled as though he had a mouth filled with marbles. “Okay, that should do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Well, it’s not perfect, but it beats the shapeless mound you achieved. Being able to see in the dark does have its advantages.”

  “Undoubtedly,” I ground out through clenched teeth as I assumed a prone position on the rumpled blanket. Garrett’s weight pinned my legs to the floor as he climbed onto the backs of my thighs and crawled up to perch on my buttocks. Then his front paws began to knead the knotted muscles at the small of my back. As the truck swayed back and forth, the rhythm of the tires lulled me, and little by little, slowly, gently, Garrett moved forward, shifting his weight, increasing the pressure. The tightness eased, the pain diminished, and it was the best I’d felt in a long time.

  “Better?” He purred close to my ear.

  “Much, thank you.”

  “Just think what I could do with fingers,” he chuckled, climbing down and curling up near my head.

  “The possibilities boggle the mind.” I smiled and propped my chin on my arms. His warmth and the soft caress of his fur, coupled with the regular vibration of the purring deep in his chest told me exactly where he was. But, in the dark, I couldn’t see him, so in case his answer wasn’t what I hoped, there was probably no time like the present. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Can I stop you?”

  “Assuming we survive this and make it home, and I get my magic back, and my hair isn’t purple, and I figure out how to break the spell, and you aren’t a cat anymore…” My words caught in my throat. While he admitted he hadn’t been opposed to Baba Yaga’s blind date offer, the idea had been proposed to him a whole year ago, before he knew anything about me. Now he knew quite a lot about me, probably more than he ever wanted to. Maybe too much.

  “You’re rambling, Ella.”

  “Well, I thought maybe…that is…of course it’s been ages, so my dancing’s probably suffered…but, I mean there’re other things…oh, peanut butter fudge, this is uncomfortable. A little encouragement would not be unwelcome.” His warmth, and the soft caress of his fur, coupled with the regular vibration against my arm, disappeared immediately. Hardly the reassurance I’d hoped for.

  “What’s the question, Louella?” He asked in an odd voice that sounded several feet away.

  “I…never mind. After living with me for a year and knowing what you’d be getting into, why on earth would you ever consider it? It’s just, well…I don’t exactly think of you as a cat. I think of you… but, just because I…that doesn’t mean you…anyway… I hope this won’t make things awkward. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You didn’t,” he croaked.

  “Of course, I did. Okay, maybe not in so many words, but... is this payback for the catnip mouse? I meant it with the best intentions, you know.”

  “I need the words, Ella. Please...”

  His voice sounded strangled and hoarse. Almost desperate. He needed the words? Why? My heart jumped into my throat and set off at a gallop as the realization struck. Words cast spells. Could words break them? Garrett said Baba’s curse had to be broken by a witch without magic, at least not magic as I knew it. Maybe the right words, with the proper intent, had magic of their own. Could it really be that simple? I pushed myself into a sitting position hardly daring to hope.

  “If I’m wrong, and you laugh, I will kill you. Better yet, I will get my magic back and smite your ass with a terminal case of Sarcoptic Mange. Or immortal fleas. Or both.” I gripped my fingers together so tightly they ached, and cleared my throat. “Garrett, the stray cat-pig-wolf Shifter whose name is not Doyle…will you go out with me, like on a date?”

  The forking slug sucker did laugh. A joyous, booming sound that ricocheted off the metal walls of the trailer, as light brighter than the sun flashed and filled the space, temporarily blinding me.

  “Hell, Buttercup,” Garrett chuckled next to my ear. I jumped, blinking away the spots swimming in front of my eyes. I still couldn’t see a thing. Long fingers bearing no resemblance to paws stroked my chin, and warm breath smelling faintly of doughnuts heated my face as a set of firm lips murmured against mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Eight

  Good Goddess, I’d forgotten how much I love to play tonsil hockey. Garrett’s large hands gripped my shoulders as his tongue plunged between my parted lips. I instinctively scooted closer, reaching out in the darkness to explore his large, solid, yet still mysterious man form. My seeking fingers mapped what my eyes could not yet see. Broad shoulders, rock hard chest, flat, ridged stomach, thickly muscled arms. His lips left mine, and set out to explore the side of my neck. His teeth nipped playfully at the sensitive skin, and his hot, rasping breath in my ear made my girlie bits weep with joy.

  Desperate to see his face, I continued my manual exploration, lightly tracing the sharp, stubbled jaw and the high cheekbones. As my pinky outlined the curve of his ear, I hesitated. I wanted this man. It didn’t matter to me if he did have a Lucky Leon comb-over. I took a deep breath and plunged my fingers into his hair. His thick, soft, full head of hair that filled my hands and curled around my fingertips.

  “Feeling better now?” I heard the smile in his voice.

  “By the minute.” Tugging at his hair—which thankfully did not sport a comb-over—I pulled his face to mine. He nipped at my bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, and a bolt of longing sent tingles shooting through my brain, my belly, and every part that mattered. The urgency of the kiss escalated quickly. While his tongue plundered my mouth, his hands lavished attention on my breasts, kneading and caressing them through my sweatshirt, then slipping beneath to repeatedly graze his heavy thumbs over my stiff nipples through the lacy cups of my bra. My toes curled at the sensation so exquisite it was nearly pain, and a rush of moist heat erupted between my thighs. Hell, we’d barely done more than kiss and I was already so aroused I felt as if we’d indulged in hours of foreplay. Before I knew quite how it happened, skin met skin, and both my arms and legs were wrapped around six feet of hot, sleekly muscled wolf Shifter with an impressive package pulsing promisingly against my lady parts. A package he appeared anxious to deliver. And one I was ready and willing to accept.

  “Are you sure about this?” Garrett panted, pressing his forehead to mine. “I mean, you haven’t even seen me yet.”

  “I don’t need to see you to know you,” I whispered, reaching up to trail my fingertips along his jaw. He shivered and feathered whisper soft kisses along my cheek. “Who you are inside is more important than what you look like. Besides, we’re dating now, right?”

  “Apparently,” he chuckled in a voice hoarse with restrained passion. He moved lower, teasing a straining nipple and rolling it between his lips before enveloping it in wet heat, sucking skillfully, deliciously, until I cried out and arched against him. My body pulsed with need. My greedy hands roamed the rippled plane of his stomach, the sides of his slim hips, and the smooth globes of his high, firm ass. He grasped my thigh, hitching it higher, and slowly, torturously pressed himself into my slick warmth.

  “Goddess,” he ground out. “You’re as tight as a virgin. How long did you say it’s been?”

  “I told you it was a conscious choice,” I hissed, digging my heels into his ass-tastick backside and rising to meet him in one swift movement that buried him to his balls. Given my lengthy period of abstinence, coupled with the fact Garrett the former stray cat-pig current-wolf Shifter was apparently hung like a five-legged horse, it m
ay have been a slightly over-enthusiastic move on my part. Oh. My. Hell.

  “Ella? Baby, are you okay?” The raw concern in his voice soothed the ache, and my body relaxed and opened to him.

  I nodded against his shoulder and moved tentatively. A shock of fresh desire rocked me. I clenched my muscles and a shudder moved through him. His breath hitched. Then slowly, with exquisite tenderness, he began to move. Digging my fingers into the firm, sweat-slicked flesh of his shoulders, I whimpered my approval, and his pace increased. Tension coiled within me in hot, urgent waves, interrupted momentarily by a particularly nasty patch of road that sent us bouncing off the blanket and along the rough floor of the trailer. The ass burn would not be pretty. As though sensing my dilemma, Garrett slipped an arm beneath my shoulders and rolled me to the top with hardly a break in rhythm. I straightened in the saddle and rode him like a drunken cowgirl on a mechanical bull. His heartbeat raced beneath my palms, his chest strained to draw in air. When he moaned low in his throat, the sexy sound nearly pushed me over the edge.

  Garrett dug his fingers into my hips possessively and arched upward, driving deeper. Something I didn’t know was missing from my life stirred inside. Something deep and hot and aching. Heat raced through me and I threw back my head, stifling a scream as my body trembled around him. I felt myself falling. Garrett caught me to him as he arched once more and roared his own release, and we tumbled over the edge together.

  I collapsed on his chest with a contented sigh, basking in an afterglow that warmed me as much as magic flickering over my skin. Garrett’s heartbeat thrummed against my cheek, his fingers lightly stroking my back as we both struggled to draw breath enough to speak.