The Family Spells: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  First stop was for flowers—I literally snatched a bouquet from a street cart, tossed the guy some money, and left without paying attention to what sort of flowers I’d grabbed. Next, I headed over to Violet's condo, ignoring the sigh of frustration from the valet as I left my bike curbside and took off for the front doors. I always felt so out of place in the swanky lobby with its marble fountain, white leather couches, and overpriced art pieces. But … this was Vy's style, so I guessed I better get used to it.

  I almost prefer that ratty old shop, I thought with a smirk and a snort. That fucking store was cozy witch cliché. It smelled like old books, herbs and incense, and there was always a fire going in the fireplace it seemed. They had too much of everything, and not enough of the most important things—like crystallized rose petals for example.

  My mind drifted to that back room, those moans I heard coming out from behind the curtain. I knew I shouldn't have looked, but I couldn't help myself. I heard her, and everything inside of me just went nuts.

  Stupid redheaded, green-eyed, voluptuous witch woman. I ran my hand over my face as I pressed the button for the elevator, wondering how Vy was going to react to the cat sitting on my shoulders. Violet cared far more for her demon side than her witch side, and her cabal just didn't understand familiars. They thought of them like pets, but they were anything but.

  "I cannot wait to see her apartment. It upsets me that you've barred me from it for so long. I'm actually quite glad you can't have sex with her. I can feel it when you fuck, you know. The joy you feel, the pleasure, it vibrates through our connection. I don't think I'd like it if you were fucking Violet."

  "Would you just shut up and leave me alone?" I growled, leaning against the mirrored wall and holding the flowers awkwardly in my left hand.

  "This a Numinous-only building, is it not? Who cares if I babble along?"

  "I do," I snapped back, but really I was taking my frustration out on Connard, and it wasn't fair. Yeah, this building was Numinous-only which meant it was only non-humans who were allowed to live and visit. Nobody would care about a talking cat; there was much weirder shit in here. "I'm sorry, man," I said finally, exhaling and letting the cat rub against my face. "I'm being a total dick."

  "Since you can't use yours, that's understandable." Connard curled his tail around my neck as the doors slid open, and I stood up to find Violet staring at me. Her silvery hair was wound up into a bun on the top of her head, and her lipstick was about the same purple color as my cock. She was wearing a skintight white dress and lavender heels.

  "I saw you on the camera," she said, looking at Connard and wrinkling her nose. "But this is a cocktail party, not a petting zoo. Lose the cat, Hex."

  "He's not a cat; he's a familiar," I said, trying not to lose my temper. I wasn't marrying Violet for love: I was marrying her for money, power, status, and obligation. There was nothing between us but respect, so I tried to keep things cool. "And you know I rarely go places without him, right? I've been trying to give you some space by leaving him behind, but that's not exactly my M.O."

  Violet stared at me like I'd lost my fucking shit. She blinked her silver eyes and shook her head.

  "I'll never understand witches," she said with a sigh, but then she forced a smile and leaned forward to brush her mouth against the corner of mine, taking the flowers from my fingers. "Bring your pussy in then, and see if you can't stroke another kitty cat under the table while we have cocktails, hmm?" Violet pressed herself against me, her lavender-vanilla perfume soaking into my clothes.

  When she reached down for my junk, I carefully grabbed her wrist and moved her back.

  "You're not going to like this," I said, and both of her brows went up. "But I've gotta split. I just came over to tell you in person that I have coven shit to take care of."

  "What coven shit?" she asked, giving me a look that said she would know if there was any official business on the docket. "Tonight isn't about coven or cabal business, you promised. You're here to meet my friends."

  "I've got to go," I said, backing up into the elevator. Violet looked at me like I was breaking her fucking heart. But what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't tell her the truth, not a girl like Violet Enfer. She wouldn't understand. She wasn't exactly the understanding type. I knew what I was to her: an alliance, some eye candy, a hot fuck (not that she knew firsthand), and a pet.

  That's it.

  So disappointing her friends? That was a big friggin' no-no.

  "I'll call you later, okay?" I said, making a prayer position with my hands as the elevator doors closed. The last thing I saw was her whiplike tail slamming so hard into the marble floor that the stone cracked. Couldn’t really blame her for being pissed though, could I? But I imagined she’d be even more pissed if I showed up to our honeymoon with a flaccid, purple penis.

  "You should've just called her in the first place," Connard purred, pausing to lick his paw.

  "I was trying to be a gentleman," I snapped, sighing and leaning my head against the wall. Truth be told, I was relieved as fuck to be getting out of that party. Drinks with a bunch of demon divas? Eh, no thanks.

  "Was it worth it?" Connard asked, but I ignored him, surprised to find how eager I felt at the prospect of going back to that stupid store. It was the sort of place people wrote like, cozy witch mysteries and shit about. Ugh.

  But forty-five minutes later, when I pulled up outside the shop, and sat for a moment with colored leaves drifting down around me, I knew I wasn't as pissed off about being here as I pretended to be.

  "Let's just get this over with," is what I said aloud. Connard snorted and, as soon as I took his helmet off, bounced down to start sniffing the front door. I grabbed the spellcraft shit from my saddlebag, moved over to the front entrance … and knocked.

  No fucking way was I running into another threesome like that.

  Heh.

  Only threesomes I'd ever had were with two chicks. Never seen one with two guys except in porn. They all looked like they were enjoying themselves though …

  Shaking my head to clear it, I raised my fist up, stared at the tattooed invisibility spell on the back of it, and then rapped my fist against the old wood. After a minute, it opened and I found myself staring at an older woman with curly white hair.

  "You stupid, son?" she asked, smacking me in the shins with her cane. "Sign says open, don't it?" She pushed past me and tottered off down the sidewalk. I rolled my eyes and pushed my way inside.

  Connard wove between my ankles and followed along, out of the frosty autumn chill and into the toasty interior. And … aw, shit, it smelled like fresh baked sugar cookies.

  "Oh, hello Hex," Graceley Spells said, wiping her hands on a black frilly apron. It was paired with a tight, black dress, red leather booties, and a witch's hat dripping in lace, jewels, and spell scrolls. Her eyes were dressed in liner and crimson shadow, and her mouth … that fucking mouth.

  Full, plump, red.

  My cock rose to the occasion, and I choked on my own words. The poor fucker was trapped between the tight dark denim I was wearing and my sweaty, sticky skin. I almost reached in there to adjust him, but Graceley was staring straight at me. Didn't seem polite, and I'd been a mega-dick enough already.

  Although, I was pretty sure she'd spelled my cock. Who else would care so much about me hooking up with this witch girl?

  "Sorry about that," she said, tilting her head in the direction of the shop's doors and the old lady I'd just encountered. "That was Helen Fischer. She comes in every week for a spirit charm. Her husband is haunting their house." Grace shrugged, and raised her eyebrows. "I've got a few more customers to work through, but if you could sign yourself into the guest book, I'll get to you as soon as I can."

  "The guest book?" I snorted, glancing over at the giant tome on the counter, the one with the yellowing pages in it. Graceley was already turning away and disappearing behind the curtain, but not before I got one last, long look a
t her ass.

  Goddess' tits, I thought, looking around to make sure it was just me and Connard in the front part of the shop. I reached my hand into my jeans to adjust my junk, and heard a husky voice clearing her throat.

  "Don't ever assume that nobody's watching." I flicked my eyes up and found a giant ass cat with spots sitting on a shelf behind the counter. "That's the way with witchcraft: somebody always is."

  "Who the fuck are you?" I snapped, grabbing the ink pen and signing my name in the book. I rushed all the way down here to wait my turn in line? I wanted to be pissed about it, but … fuck, I just wanted my dick fixed. I glanced back up at the cat, met its eyes, and felt a jolt of energy run through me.

  "Your soulmate's familiar," it purred, as Connard hopped up on the counter to give her a sniff. The bigger cat raised her back and let out a pretty menacing goddamn hiss.

  "Well, I never," Con growled, hopping back on my shoulders as I studied the cat. It was no normal house pussy, that was for sure. She stared at me with those huge eyes of hers, and I decided to make myself scarce. Even being around Graceley’s familiar was too much for me. I could feel that weird connection between us. I didn’t know if it was magic or what, but there was something there, and I didn’t like it.

  Insead I made my way around the shop with my bag in hand. May as well explore the damn place. As I wove my way between shelves filled with books, crystals, altar clothes, athames, and all sorts of random spellcraft shit, I found the table near the fireplace with the fresh-baked cookies on it, all decorated with Halloween themes: ghosts, zombies, pumpkins, witch hats, skeletons. There was hot water for tea and hot chocolate, as well as floral-infused water, and juice. On the far side was a tray of caramel-coated apples with orange sprinkles.

  As I stood there and picked up a warm sugar cookie frosted like a mummy, I wondered what it would be like to have a wife who baked, someone I could come home to, take her apron off and—

  A man in an apron slipped out from behind a curtain with a tray of new cookies in his hands, and paused to stare at me. Our eyes met, and as soon as they did, I felt it. Again.

  I stumbled back and slammed into a display of smudging supplies, knocking smudge sticks all over the damn floor.

  "There's another one of you?!" I choked out, blinking at the fae man with the silver skin and the mint green hair. He stared at me with eyes the color of a violent storm, and then placed the tray on the table, carefully using a spatula to move the cookies over to a plate. "What the fuck?" All those dumb thoughts I'd just had of a wife baking cookies flew out of my head. How stupid was I?

  "You must be Hex," the man said with a sigh, picking up his tray again and giving me a once-over that said he really wasn't impressed. "Damn."

  "Damn?" I asked, bending down to start picking up the spilled supplies. "That's what I get? A damn?" I started shoving stuff back on the shelf as the fae man continued to stare at me. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means damn, you're even worse than I expected." Silver light seemed to surround the prick as he turned away and headed back behind the curtain, showing off some faerie wing tattoos on his back.

  I stood up, cursing and brushing dried bits of sage from my hands.

  No way did I want one of those cookies now.

  I chucked mine in the bin and kept on walking, exploring the front half of the store before delving back into the Sex and Intimacy section where I'd been before. Stuck to one of the shelves was an orange flyer advertising an early Halloween party and pumpkin carving contest. I stared at it for a second, but it looked like kid shit. Not really my thing.

  No, for Halloween, I wanted to summon big magic, fuck shit up, talk to the dead, and party like crazy.

  Browsing my way through the sex supplies, I soon found myself in the back, in the Live Animals section. There was a young girl there in short-shorts, with a vibrant red witch hat on her head. Clearly, she was Coven Apothecary—everyone in that coven smelled like crushed herbs and essential oils—and also quite clearly an apprentice.

  Only apprentice witches scooped poop.

  This one was currently elbow-deep in kitty litter.

  "Come on, don't do this to me," she said, laughing as the kittens clawed at her white and red robes through the bars, snagging the fabric. In the center-aisle display shelf, there were books, trinkets, and supplies for binding a minor familiar. That is, an animal bound to a person by magic. It would never be the same as say, Connard, who was born to be my familiar, but a minor familiar was better than nothing.

  I started to move away when my boot squeaked on the floor, and the girl jumped, slamming her elbow on the metal kennel and cursing under her breath.

  "You're him, aren't you?" she asked as I started to move away. "Purple dick."

  "What the … how the fuck do you know about that?!" I snapped, forcing myself to keep my voice low as ferrets, rats, and an owl all peered out at me from their enclosures. There were wolfdog puppies, too, sitting in a pen on the far wall. One of them let out a little howl to punctuate the sudden silence.

  "I'm Grace's apprentice," the girl said, looking me up and down with dark brown eyes. She tapped a finger against her lower lip and shook her head. "I had to help her brainstorm on possible cures for your, um, impotency problem. But I only work on Sundays and Tuesdays, so …”

  "Gee, thanks," I said with a dramatic eye roll, turning and walking away. The girl followed along after me, charms dangling from her pitch-dark hair. Based on the way she was dressed, I was guessing she was not only a witch, but a temple priestess of some kind. The white and robes were a dead giveaway. "So how many husbands does Graceley have anyway?" If the chick was gonna follow me around, I may as well get some answers out of her.

  "Three. The Oracle predicted she'd have four though." Apprentice Chick gave me another once-over. "Nice ink, by the way. You have a ton of great spells in there."

  "Uh, thanks." I paused next to a display of hoodies and glanced down at the girl in the red hat. I'd probably guess her to be in her late teens, early twenties at most. "And by Oracle, you mean, like, the Oracle at Delphi? In Greece?"

  "Everyone in Coven Apothecary makes a trip to see the Oracle." She shrugged her thin shoulders. "You don't do that in Coven Wyrmwood, I'm guessing?"

  "We're not big on prophecy," I said, staring at the purple curtain and wondering what was going on behind it. I could hear Grace's voice, his husky, sexy purr that raised goose bumps on my skin. Not the only thing it raised either.

  Fuck my life.

  "It's not prophecy," Apprentice Girl said as the curtain fluttered, and I saw the sparkle of magic trickle out from underneath it. Graceley Spells was working magic for customers, and I fucking desperately wanted to see it. "She just traces the red threads."

  "I don't believe in red threads," I said, moving past her and heading for the curtain. I lifted just the edge of it up and peeked inside, watching as Grace handed over a bottle of glowing green liquid to a customer.

  Red threads, my ass, I thought, curling my lip at the legend. So it went that every soul mate was connected by an invisible red ley line of magic that glowed red when it was looked at just right. I didn't believe it for shit. Some witches did, though. Hell, even Lulu did. But sorry, no. I was a big believer in setting my own fate, choosing my own destiny. I didn't need an Oracle or a red thread to do it for me.

  I stepped back as the next client moved out from behind the curtain, and headed for the front door.

  Grace paused by the old-fashioned register, pulled the lever, and then tucked the cash inside before she finally glanced over at me with a smile on those red, red lips of hers. Her long legs were impossible to miss under that short skirt, and the right one was just fucking dipped in ink. I could see several spells I recognized woven into the art.

  "One more customer and then I'll be ready for our consult."

  "Our consult?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "You scheduled me like one of your clien
ts?"

  She grabbed the guest book, made a few marks with the quill pen, and then turned to look at me with a single red brow raised. Her familiar grinned at me from behind her, like it thought it was the goddess-damned Cheshire Cat or something.

  "Is that a problem? Why should I treat you any differently than my other clients?"

  "Because you did this to me," I ground out, and the giant cat thing hissed at me. I reached up and itched at my back while Con growled from his perch on my right shoulder. My fucking wings were driving me up the witching wall today, and the more agitated I became, the worse they throbbed. "I mean, come on, think about: who else would give a shit about my dick?"

  A laugh burst from Graceley's throat, scathing and throaty both at the same time. My body had an instant reaction to it.

  "Hey, buddy, if you think I care about your dick, I've got a newsflash for you because …" She moved over to stand next to me, leaning up to put her mouth near my ear. My entire body bristled, and I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from grabbing her around the waist. "I don't give a fuck."

  Graceley moved back from me, tossing her slightly curled red hair over one shoulder.

  "Then you tell me who else would be interested in spelling my dick, so that it responds only to you. I mean, come on."

  "Believe me: if I'd cast that spell, you'd know it. I have a very unique signature. Have you checked the signature on that spell yet?"

  Oh. Shit.

  I was an idiot.

  I hadn't bothered to check the signature. Fuck, I hadn't bothered to do anything regarding my cock for fear I'd add yellow spots or furry patches or some shit to the purple, flaccid thing. But Graceley had a good point.

  "Right. You haven't checked it, of course not." She sighed and adjusted her witch hat. "I'll add that to our consult list." I opened my mouth to respond and then paused when the front door bells jingled.