Wicked Release-ARE-Epub

by R. G. Alexander

  Harrison couldn’t hold back her climax as the men came below her. Her power exploded from her core, breaking through the cloaking spell, a blast of brilliant blue electricity lighting up the narrow staircase. For a moment she could feel everything. Beyond the hallway and into the club, into the private rooms and beyond. She was everywhere. In everything. Alive.

  The wave turned inward, and she moaned. She’d never felt anything like this. No climax so powerful. Her eyes opened, and her moan changed to a gasp of shock. Her energy was bright all around her. It wasn’t fading. Proof of a match.

  “What the hell?” The gruff voice brought her gaze back down over the rail. The men were shaken, their own magic glowing, twining with each other’s and reaching up for hers.

  Eyes black as moonless night clashed with gray. A flicker of recognition. Of connection.

  Jacob.

  Harrison had a flash of insight. She knew she would look back on this moment for years to come, remembering that burning gaze, and how she reacted to it.

  She ran.

  The necklace around her neck was warming, pulsing with life. Concern. Her mother’s gift. Moira Abbott made charmed jewelry, and she’d created this golden, snake-like choker specifically for her daughter’s first Triune. Harrison pulled it off, not wanting her vacationing parents to fly back in a rush if they sensed her panic. She raced down the hallway and around the corner, pushing through the throng toward the front exit of the club.

  “Harrison, damn it, there you are. Tyghe’ll kill me for letting you out of my… Holy shit, you’re glowing.”

  She grabbed Conway’s arm and felt his protective shield instantly surround her. She used her own cloaking magic on them both, hiding them from the crowded dance club. They could see each other, but no one could see them. “Con, you have to help me. Where are they? I need to get my brothers and Callie and get the hell out of here. Now.”

  Her handsome cousin shook his shaggy blond head, looking more like a grunge rocker than the Magian professor he was. “No can do, Harry. Didn’t you hear? They caught the person whose been attacking Magian compellers. It was a woman, a Proxenos no less. Right here under everyone’s nose. And she almost hurt our little Callie. Luckily Tucker, Tyghe, and apparently our very own Jenner were on hand to save the day. Did you know she was a morph?”

  No. She hadn’t known. And her best friend had been in danger because of her hair-brained idea, and she’d missed it. They’d all left her behind. She knew she was being petty, but it had been her sting, damn it. And it was their fault she’d fallen into this latest calamity. Matched to a triad, unsure of what their magic was but knowing it was strong, nearly as strong as her own. Especially Jacob. And the power pulsing through her from the connection that hadn’t yet broken was aggressive. Pissed off and hungry for more.

  She had to get away. “It should be easy for us to get out of here then. Where are they?”

  Conway blushed as they reached the cloakroom. “Upstairs, celebrating their successful matching.”

  She should have known from the way her brothers were acting. From Callie’s strange behavior. She’d known about her friend’s crush on Tucker, but the way she’d been whenever Tyghe’s name was mentioned this last week was, well, telling. They were her Triune. Shit. Had Jenner known that too? Was Harrison the only one who’d been in the dark all this time?

  She couldn’t think about this now. She had to get out of here before those two on the stairwell sniffed her out. Had to stop them from dragging her off to the Proxenos to be officially claimed.

  “Con, I’m calling in all my chips. You have to do me a favor. A big one.”

  Conway didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go. You can tell me on the way.”

  A few hours later, after climbing up the trellis to her bedroom to change her clothes and grab a few necessities, she had one last thing to do.

  Conway was pacing at the edge of her bed. “I can’t believe you’re really going through with this, Harry. They’ll be worried sick. Is this about those men you were telling me about? The reason you were glowing like you’d just found your magical Prince Charmings? Or something else?”

  She opened her jewelry box and placed her necklace inside, leaving a long note on top of the closed lid for her family. “It’s everything, Con. You know it. I need this. Just a little bit of time to be myself before I give in to what everyone else expects me to be.”

  Conway nodded, a look of empathy on his roughly attractive face. “I know it. Hell, your brother Lorie and I used to talk about it. We could never decide if we envied you or—”

  “Pitied me?” Her chuckle was bitter. “The funniest part is, I’ve never understood what it is that makes me so damn special. Because I know more spells? Well that’s thanks to all my teachers who expected me to learn them. Is it because I have no specific power? I’m not a grower or a compeller, not a seer or even a protector like you. If anything, that makes me more oddball than great.”

  She shrugged, at a loss. “I love my family, but they don’t understand what it’s like. And Lorie? I envy him. He lives the way he wants, without any expectations. He gets to be a dreamer with his nose eternally in some dusty book. I never had that luxury.”

  Her cousin grimaced. “That’s a double-edged sword, Harrison. Out of all of you, Lorie needs the biggest kick in the pants. Waiting for him to wake up so we can find our match is wearing on my patience. He hasn’t returned any of my phone calls in a month. If it didn’t happen on a regular basis, whenever he got lost in his library research, I’d be worried. He’d miss his entire life if given the chance. And our mate could have decided to give up by now.”

  The worry on her cousin’s face required a much longer conversation than she had time for. She knew Conway was frustrated. Of course he was. He and Lorie were two thirds of a triad that might never be found. Not unless the perfect woman slipped between the pages of one of Lorie’s books. “But he’d get to, Con. As much as it ticks you off, he still gets a choice. And even if it’s a temporary illusion, I want one too.”

  In her bag was everything she’d been gathering for the last year, from recipe books to classified ads. Most importantly, enough potion to last her at least six months. She’d never thought she’d have the guts to actually do it. But after her powerful reaction to those Magians at the club, how intensely she’d been drawn to them despite what they’d said about her, she knew she couldn’t allow them to find her. She wouldn’t.

  She turned to Conway. “You know what to do? And Callie’s new to being Magian, but she’s a good compeller already and—”

  He held up his hands. “I know, I know. I’ll shield myself around her, and make sure I take a potion or two before she and Tucker give me the third degree. Honestly, I’m more afraid of what Jenner will do to me.”

  “Nothing,” Harrison was adamant. And very aware that the housekeeper had returned and was even now downstairs in the kitchen, able to realize they were here at any moment. “She owes me, too, and she knows it. She was a morph and didn’t tell me, she knew Callie was a Magian, and she didn’t tell me. If she wants my trust back, she’ll have to keep my brothers from calling an all out manhunt. And Callie will help them understand.”

  A part of her wanted to unpack her bags and be there for Callie when she got back. To celebrate with her and find out about everything that had happened. To tell her best friend all about her own bizarre experience. But her survival instincts had kicked in with a vengeance. This was her window of opportunity. The only chance she might get. If she was going to do this, it had to happen now. While her brothers were distracted, her parents away. While she still had the guts.

  Conway cupped her shoulders in his hands, his soft, moss green eyes compassionate. “I’ll be there for you. You have my phone number. If you’re blocked from magic all you have to do is call and I’ll move heaven and earth to get to you.”

  She smiled. He’d always been a good friend. “Yes, I have your cell. I also have a pocket full of cash, and finally a
little independence…what more could any girl ask for?”

  A pair of dark, mysterious eyes sprang to mind, but she instantly pushed the image away.

  That snooty fucking Abbott bitch. Isn’t that what the other one, what Ric, had said? Her teeth clenched. They wouldn’t have to worry about her. She was taking a vacation from demanding, self-important male Magians.

  Especially ones who so obviously didn’t want her.

  Available Now!

  Bonus Excerpt: My Shifter Showmance

  From Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  Chapter One

  “Cue the music. Welcome to Shifting Reality, blah, blah, blah, etcetera, etcetera. Tonight, instead of regaling you with my latest sexual conquest—don’t be disappointed—or my roommates unusual, um, eating habits, I thought we’d go back to the beginning. Just you and I, alone, having an intimate one on one. But first, let’s address those naysaying emails.

  “This video journal has been online for nearly a year. If, after all you’ve seen and heard, you don’t yet believe—then you are no doubt one of those people who still thinks the earth is flat and there isn’t an alien colony on the moon. That’s okay. I love a little healthy skepticism. It turns me on. I’m beginning to think the government is on to something. The more I put the truth out there, the less you believe it.

  “But if you have a shadow of a doubt, or if you’re interested in getting to know me a little better, what I’ve planned to celebrate our one year anniversary should be right up your alley—and mine. Saint, Mac and a few of my more interesting friends are having a contest—think Survivor meets Fear Factor, only a lot more relaxed, far more comfortable, and I promise you won’t have to put anything in your mouth…that you don’t thoroughly enjoy.

  “We will choose nine humans to come and play at an obnoxiously large castle in Scotland owned by your favorite vampire and mine, my roommate Mac. If picked, you’ll be the starring attraction for a week of Shifting Reality. Those who stay at home will be able to play as well, asking our guests questions, and suggesting the trouble they’d like to see us get into together. Those who can last all seven days will receive fifty thousand dollars each, a vacation in Scotland and some up close and personal time with yours truly. Which, let’s be honest, is the best prize of all. Here kitty, kitty. You know you wanna play.”

  Margo paused the video on his cocky smile, complete with sharpened incisors. God, he was sexy. She licked her lips, then blushed, though no one could see her. No one knew she was watching him.

  Thomas “Tomcat” Lyons, the star of Shifting Reality and her most sizzling fantasies. Had it only been six months since her friend forwarded her that email? The one that contained one of his juicier journals, where he described what he felt when he took a woman. How intensely he could scent her need, how each woman had her own special aroma that changed with her arousal?

  At first she thought it was just a random link. An R-rated one to be sure, but still. She’d seen the web address at the bottom and curiosity compelled her to search the unusual site. She’d clicked on each and every journal entry, sitting in front of her computer for hours. She’d watched it evolve from one man’s My Shifter Showmance private rant at having to hide what he truly was, to cameras capturing unusual but captivating conversations between the three stars of the series.

  There was Mac, the rather moody vampire, clearly uncomfortable at being in the spotlight, despite his beauty. Saint, the distracted techno-genius, a morally ambiguous demon half-breed who enjoyed computers more than Margo enjoyed chocolate. And then there was Thomas Lyons. Smart as a whip, kinky enough to own one, and so openly and unapologetically sexual that you could almost believe he was what he claimed to be. Namely, a genuine non-human cat shifter.

  Realistically, Margo knew that the trio had to be actors. They were certainly gorgeous enough. Or hungry scriptwriters looking for backing. Several people had taken their stories online during the writer’s strike, opening up an opportunity for new talent.

  Perhaps it was a unique pitch meant for her boss, and they thought they could get to her through her friend. Being an assistant for the head of a production company ensured she had a lot of people finding creative ways to meet her. As though she had any control over what the company chose to develop. Sidling up to her at parties, in grocery stores, even singing telegrams explaining why their story was the next big thing. Star Wars set as a musical in the fifties or something equally world-altering. But this was different.

  There were no behind the scenes bloopers, no bios to indicate they were actors, or information on how to contact them. Nothing on their site took away from the illusion that these men were not men, but creatures, straight out of fantasy and myth. And the men themselves so perfectly played their roles that even Margo, cynic that she was, found herself drawn into their world.

  Like dark chocolate, steamy romance novels and shoes, Shifting Reality had become her closet addiction, her secret guilty pleasure. She’d logged onto the site under a screen name to discuss the show with likeminded others. She took her laptop to bed each night to watch the latest installment or bemoan the lack of one. She’d even chatted with him several times. Or someone pretending to be him. Online you could never be sure. Thomas Lyons. She flirted with him under her screen name in a way she’d never have the courage to in person. Despite knowing he was a made up character, an illusion, she lusted after him.

  She couldn’t understand why she was so drawn to him. Hadn’t she sworn off bad boys long ago? And he was a bad boy in every sense of the word. If he was real, he was one of those men Margo would never allow herself to date, even casually. He went through women and men like a drunk went through wine, loving every sip, but always moving on to the next shiny new bottle. No apologies, no remorse. He was a tomcat after all. It was his nature.

  Still, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She felt like a teenager, a groupie. She was way too old for this, but she couldn’t deny it. She had a crush on a guy who liked to play dress up and have his teeth sharpened.

  The link to enter the contest flashed beneath the frozen video, taunting her. There was no time in her life for wishful thinking. She was surrounded by eccentric and visionary directors and writers. She had to be the calm, realistic center.

  Anyone who’d known her when she was younger would laugh until they cried hearing that. Margo Sheffield, responsible and realistic? She had changed a lot in the last few years. For the better, in her opinion. The wild child who’d come to Hollywood on a dare, who’d had dreams of fame as a singer only to end up getting into one bad situation after another, was a part of the past. Dead and buried, though Margo knew she would spend the rest of her life paying for her youthful mistakes.

  She studied Thomas Lyon’s knowing grin again and sighed. She needed to get out more. Find a normal man to daydream about. In L.A., that would be a challenge, but surely there was one guy out there.

  Just one who hadn’t been a semi-star on a reality show, a moody rocker who wouldn’t appreciate her or an agent who promised anything to anyone, as long as he got what he wanted. She mentally added “man who believed he could grow a tail and whiskers on command” to her list. So why was she hesitating? Why was her finger still restless, itching to click her mouse, to enter the contest?

  She looked down at Hailey, sliding her hand through the blue-black fur of the sleeping cat. “At least I’m a cat person.” She sighed. “It’s not like I’d be chosen anyway.” But she knew it would drive her crazy if she didn’t try. The part of her that melted every time she heard Thomas’s seductive purr knew she had to take this chance. A chance in a billion to see him face to face.

  Margo opened the link and filled out the small entry form. Maybe the wild child inside her wasn’t buried quite deep enough.

  “No more.”

  Thomas hopped over the back of the couch, his agile body moving in a way no human’s could. He landed to sit comfortably, legs crossed on the coffee table as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. “D
on’t get your kilt in a twist, Mac, you agreed to this, remember?”

  The tall Scotsman snarled as he paced the living room. “I believe you mentioned something about freedom in the anonymity of the Internet. That we’d be lost in the masses, and there would be no true repercussions for baring our proverbial souls.” He stopped to glare at Thomas. “People are following me whenever I show myself, Lyons. Other vampires are split into two camps. They either want to be on the show, or they are planning my demise for allowing you to continue to out us. That sounds like repercussions to me.”

  “They’re called fans, Mac Attack. It isn’t like they’re carrying torches and pitchforks.” Thomas chuckled. “Not yet anyway. As for the vampire threats, you can take them. You’re the toughest bloodsucker I know.”

  Saint spoke up from his position on the leather recliner without lifting his gaze from his laptop. “The forums are already lighting up like Christmas trees, and the contest post is going viral.”

  “Viral?”

  Thomas snorted. “That’s a good thing in this case, Mac. Now you just need to let the current residents at Castle Continuously Depressing know we’re having guests.”

  Mac crossed his arms. “Only if you remember our deal. After I allow you to turn my home into your own private testing ground, this ends. No more waking to find a camera attached to my headboard. No more deep in depth interviews about the taste of Type A versus Type O positive. I have lived a dozen lifetimes with no more than a family painting to prove my existence. And now I’ve been recorded sleeping merely to answer a random question on your damn site about whether or not a vampire snores. So no more invasions of my privacy, or Saint’s, or you’ll be looking for a new roommate…and we all know who keeps this place in cream and caviar.”