Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “What?” They both explode at the same time.

  My eyes shift back up to Mac. His pocket watch is out again. He’s tapping the face and gazing at me impatiently.

  “Yeah, it’s like a rule or something. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” I click the end button, cutting off something Creeper was in the middle of saying. Then, I march up the stairs toward Mac and slap my phone into his waiting palm with a scowl on my face.

  He laughs. “You’ll live without it for one night, I promise.”

  I just stare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. My glare only makes him smile, which both infuriates and excites me.

  “If I don’t, the blood is on your hands.”

  His head leans back, and he laughs. It’s almost lyrical, like something you can dance to. It makes my heart feel light in my chest.

  “You amuse me, Miss Lane.”

  I glower at him.

  “I’m sorry.” He holds his arm out to me for the second time. “Will you come with me, Kinsley?”

  I glance down and realize I’m still wearing my Cowboy’s slippers. I forgot to change into my heels. Of course. Hopefully he won’t notice, and I can slip away to a bathroom and fix myself up.

  I take his arm and give him my best smile. He leans forward, so close, I can feel his breath on my left cheek.

  “You have a dimple.”

  “Just one,” I say louder than I intended.

  His eyebrows pull together, then he smiles. “Well, just one is enough.”

  He turns away from me and pushes the door open. Together, we step inside.

  5

  AS SOON AS I walk in the door, my mother is on top of me. Her thin nostrils flare in my face and her cheeks glow like radioactive tomatoes. She’s set to blow.

  “Kinsley! Where have you been! I called you at least ten times! You’re late!”

  I sigh and back away. “Hi, Mom.” I glance around the room. Everyone’s eyes are on us. Not that my mother cares. She loves to make a scene.

  “Where have you been?”

  Behind me, Mac clears his throat. He takes off his top hat, and his copper hair tumbles over his forehead. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. Ignoring my mother, I stare at him and try not to drool.

  “Mrs. Lane?” He extends a hand toward my mother.

  This should be interesting.

  She takes it, a stern look still assaulting her face. “Drake,” she says in a sharp voice. “Mrs. Drake. Kinsley here refused to take her father’s last name.”

  Apparently my mother can resist Mac’s charms.

  I glower at her. “Step-father! Actually, Nelson!”

  In reply, she scans me up and down. “Dear, Lord! What happened to your dress? And your hair.” She steps forward and hisses in my face. “Did you do this just to embarrass me? Really, Kinsley, you’re twenty-two. When are these childish games going to stop?”

  The side of my lip turns up into a snarl. Fuck her. Glancing around, I find a chair and hoist myself up onto it.

  “Attention!” I clap my hands. “Attention, everyone!”

  All the eyes that left us, find their way back. The room falls silent.

  I glance at my mother’s horrified face and grin. “I just wanted everyone here to know that I’m Kinsley Lane, and this…” I point down at my mother. “Is my mom. She’s embarrassed by everything about me, and I came here tonight for the sole purpose of making her even more embarrassed. So, if you could give her hugs throughout the night. She needs the sympathy, what with having all her shame wrapped up in her daughter.”

  I shoot her a scowl then climb off the chair.

  “I can’t believe you just…”

  “What’s going on here?” a female voice hisses.

  I jump, and my eyes lock on a tall, thin figure with golden hair streaked gray floating around her shoulders. She glides toward us like some elegant, ancient thing, and even the harsh expression she wears takes nothing away from her beauty. I recognize her at once.

  Gemma Harker. The High Priestess at Harker Heights. One of the most talented in the world. Her green eyes slice into all of us, and her deep, purple robes slap against her ankles as she comes to a stop.

  “Who is this?” She points a perfectly manicured finger at me.

  Mac clears his throat. “Mother, this is Kinsley Lane. My charge for the night.”

  “The one that was late?” Her fiery eyes stare me down.

  I gulp and back away, bumping into Mac. He places both hands on my shoulders like we’ve known each other for years, and I can’t help the thrill that races through me.

  “Yes, she was late. I made the decision to bend the rule this once.”

  “You made the decision?”

  Her eyes leave me, thank God, and peer up at her son.

  “Yes, Mother. May we have a word in private?”

  “I think we better.” Her eyes slide down to me again. “If your charge can manage holding in any further outbursts.”

  I quickly nod my head. She glares at me in such a way I expect flames to shoot out of her eyes. Then she turns to Mac. “For Goddess sake, put your robe on! You look like a street witch.”

  Over her shoulder, Mac gives me a knowing smile and puts his arms–his very nice, sculpted arms—through his robes, leaving it unzipped.

  He smiles down at his mother. “Better?”

  She waves a finger at him. “Come with me.” Turning around, she disappears into the crowd of people.

  Mac bends toward me and whispers in my ear. “I’ll be back, Miss Lane.”

  I try not to shiver as he sidesteps me and follows his mother into the crowd. As soon as they’re gone, my mother brushes up against me and turns her head so that she can hiss into my ear.

  “I can’t believe you just did that. What is wrong with you?”

  I turn and narrow my eyes at her. I’m shaking so hard I can barely hold on to my purse. “I came out of you.”

  Her eyes widen, then moisten with tears. She takes a hankie out of her purse and dabs at her eyes.

  “I don’t know why you say such things, Kinsley!”

  I glare at her. This is what she does. Digs, digs, and digs. When I fight back, cue the fucking waterworks. It’s even more manipulative than her backhanded compliments.

  “Whatever, Mom.”

  Before she can say anything else about what a terrible daughter she has to deal with, Nelson comes strolling up. He has two drinks in his hands. He hands one to me and one to my mother.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten her that. You know Kinsley can’t handle her drink,” Mom says.

  I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from saying anything else. People, all the ones granted passage, are already throwing curious looks in our direction.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think one glass will hurt, will it, Kinsley?” He smiles at me.

  I try to return the smile, but I’m livid. He’s trying, but it feels so fake. Like if he can win points with me, he can make my mother a little less crazy. It isn’t going to happen. Ignoring him, I place the glass to my lips and take a small sip.

  It’s like drinking down a cyclone of flavor. Pineapples, cherries, grape, and a few other flavors I can’t name. It also has a calming effect. All of my anger toward my mother drifts away. I stare into the glass, wondering if it has any magic in it. I could be drinking a potion right now. The thought is so cool, I don’t even stop to think about what said potion might do to me.

  I glance over at my mother. She’s huddled in Nelson’s arms. No longer glaring. She wears the expression of a docile baby. This makes me giggle.

  I think I’m going to like it here.

  The crowd goes back to what is was doing. Mostly eating, drinking, and mingling. My eyes slide across random faces. I don’t recognize anyone. But there seem to be at least one hundred fifty people lingering comfortably in this living room. It’s so big you could fit my childhood home, and the house next to it, inside. More people stroll out from a back room. They
’re holding silver dishes piled with fruits, so I’m guessing they came out of the kitchen.

  My mouth twists down into a frown as I study everyone. I think about the space outside and how many more people could fit inside these gates. How many more people they could make safe, and yet they don’t.

  I’ve watched them interviewed in all the years I didn’t receive passage. They always talk about guarded secrets and their magic only being able to protect a select few. Of course, they always express regret that they couldn’t welcome everyone into their home, but that’s the way it is.

  My thoughts float to Creeper and Trixie. I hope they’ll be safe tonight. As much as I don’t want to think about it, there is a very real chance that I won’t see one, or both of them, in the morning.

  I shake my head and take another sip of my drink. I can’t think that way. Of course I’ll see them again. I gave them some of the best supplies in my arsenal. And I’ve been collecting for a year in the hopes of avoiding another possession incident.

  My body shudders just thinking about it. I close my eyes. I can still hear the crack of Kai hitting my windshield. I can still see his limp, useless body flattened against the road as I screamed my head off. It’s a memory that will never leave me alone. Not until he wakes up–if he wakes up—and maybe not even then.

  “Kinsley.” Mac’s voice pulls me up and away from the bad thoughts.

  My eyelids flutter open, and I peer up at him through my eyelashes. He’s smiling down at me in that way that turns my heart to mushy clay.

  “You’re permitted to stay.”

  A surge of relief breathes through my bones. “Good.” I smile. “Thank you.”

  “Please, don’t mention it. I’ve been tasked to protect you tonight.”

  My head whirls like I just stuffed twenty Vicodin down my throat. I keep gazing up at him like an idiot, and then the sound of metal clinking against glass grabs my attention, along with the attention of everyone else in the room.

  Gemma stands near the front of the room, in front of a massive, stone fireplace with stone tigers seated on either side. When all the buzz of conversation dies down, she raises her hands.

  “Welcome. You are the chosen few that have been granted passage from the dead on this Hallows’ Eve.” She smiles, her eyes dancing across the room. “We welcome you into our home, to share our ways, for one night. We don’t allow any photography or recording equipment on these grounds. If you are caught with it…” She smiles a smile that could cut a man down where he stood. “You will be immediately escorted off the grounds.” She claps. “Now, the hour is approaching seven. We begin the night with a cleansing ritual. You will go with your assigned guardian to perform the ritual and come out cleansed from all things of the mundane world.” Pulling a hand through her silver-streaked hair, she adds, “I’ll see you after the cleansing!”

  AS SOON AS his mother is finished speaking, Mac offers me his arm and hits me with that sexy smile again. If he keeps doing that, I won’t be able to walk by morning.

  “May I have the honor of your company in my bedroom?”

  The temperature in the room spikes one thousand degrees. My brain starts running circles around itself.

  “Um, your bedroom?” I reach for my hair and start twisting it.

  “Yes.” His smile widens. “That’s where we’ll perform the ritual.”

  “Oh.” I stare dumbly up at him. “I’d love to go to bed.”

  What? No!

  “I mean…I-I’d love to… Ritual and all.”

  He laughs and folds my arm inside his. “I’m going to enjoy spending the night with you, Miss Lane.”

  My cheeks flush, and I have to tear my eyes away from his face. It’s hard. Really hard. But if I keep looking at him, I’m going to make an even bigger idiot of myself than I already have.

  “This way.” He leads me through the crowd of people and up a wide staircase. Even the stairs in this place are beautiful, made of sturdy wood and laid with carpet with stars and moons woven in. The banisters are carved with dragons, and to the left of the stairs, pictures of the Harker family are tacked to the walls. They start vintage, old black and white photos with Gemma and her old coven of witches to modern, displaying Mac and his brothers and sisters.

  We walk up to the third floor, and he opens the first door on the right. I start to ask him how many bedrooms this place has, but it seems like a rude question. So, I just smile at him and duck inside.

  My eyes widen.

  His room is so normal. Queen-sized bed, posters of his favorite band on the wall, and a desktop computer sits on a mundane desk against the far side of his room. Nothing about it screams, Hey, I’m one of the most powerful and famous witches in the country.

  He closes the door behind us and saunters to his closet. I try not to watch his ass as he walks away. Total failure. My head tilts to the side as I watch one ass cheek lift up, then down, and the other lift up and down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an ass so tight. He opens his closet and bends over. I bite down on my lower lip.

  Damn.

  Things bang around in the closet, and a few curses escape his lips. Then finally he stands up and turns, holding a large golden chest. It’s encrusted with gems and symbols. I don’t recognize any of them except the pentagram. Everyone can name that one. He sits down on his bed and pats the space beside him. My heart hiccups as I step forward and join him. With a grin, he pulls the chain hanging around his neck. It’s a key. He bends over the chest and opens it.

  Curious, I lean forward and peer inside. Everything is wrapped in white silk. He pulls out several items and places them on the floor beside the chest. Then, he grabs the wand attached to the inside of the lid. I stare at it. I’ve never been this close to a magic wand.

  I narrow my eyes. “Is that made of amber?”

  He glances sidelong at me and perks his lips. “Impressive. Yes, it is. With a silver handle.”

  I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’ve read that amber is the hardest material to work magic with.”

  He winks at me, and my heart aches in my chest. I realize it’s an ache of longing. God, I want to touch him in every spot he has available for touching.

  “It is. I’ve always had an affinity for it. I refuse to use anything else. It’s harder, yes, but far more powerful.”

  I nod, pursing my lips to keep the drool in my mouth.

  He goes about unfolding all his silk-wrapped mysteries. There are a few quartz crystals, some things I don’t recognize, and a short bladed knife. I frown, wondering what the hell he needs it for.

  When he’s done unwrapping, he closes the trunk and sets it aside. Then he kneels by his bed and reaches underneath.

  Self-consciously, I cross my legs. I’m wearing my ready-to-go panties, but I tell myself I don’t want him to see them. It’s a total lie. I cross my legs because I’m sure he doesn’t want to see them. He’s way out of my league.

  He pulls out a low, round tree stump. I tilt my head as he arranges the crystals, the knife, a bowl of salt, a bowl of water, and several cone-shaped things in a silver dish. That’s when I realize the stump serves as a table. An altar, to be exact. Lastly, he sets a gold and silver candle in the center and waves his hands over the wicks.

  They light, then the flame flickers around, following the movement of his fingers. My eyes widen at him, amazed. His eyes are closed, face scrunched up in concentration. I take the opportunity to enjoy the lines of his jaw and the fullness of his mouth.

  Damn, this is a beautiful man.

  He opens his eyes and gazes up at me. Standing up, he holds his hands toward me. I place my hands in his and allow him to pull me to my feet.

  “You have the fire gift,” I say, looking down.

  He chuckles. “Yes.” His lips are close to my ear. My body goes rigid. “There has always been fire in me, Miss Lane.”

  “Kinsley,” I correct him again without looking up.

  “Yes, Kinsley.” He squeezes his hands around mine. “I
need you to take off your clothes.”

  I snatch my hands away and gawk up at him. “’Scuse me?”

  His eyes widen, as if he’s surprised by my reaction. God, don’t tell me he’s one of those hot, dense guys. I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world… But it might be a pain in the ass if he’s a big talker.

  I wrap my arms around my chest. “Are you hitting on me?” There is a little bite in my voice.

  He stares at me for a few seconds then shakes his head. “Hitting on you?” A nice blush highlights his cheekbones. His very kissable cheekbones. But that isn’t the point.

  “Yes.” I start chewing on my hair and tapping my foot at the same time. Fuck it, if he can ask me to get naked, I can let out all my neuroses early on in the night. “I mean, no offense. But I thought your game would be better.”

  “My game?”

  It’s like talking to someone from another century. I know enough about witches to know they’re born differently than people like me, but they spend enough time around us regular folk to know what’s appropriate and what isn’t.

  Instead of answering, I just stare at him. I try to glare, but his beauty still intimidates me.

  “Kinsley, I think you misunderstood me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, the cleansing ritual has to be performed skyclad.”

  “Sky who?”

  His lips stretch into a wide smile. “Skyclad. It means naked.” He takes a small step toward me. “If it makes you feel any better, I will be skyclad, as well.”

  Without being able to help myself, I scan my gaze up and down his body. I can’t lie and say I don’t want him to strip down right now and show me the goods, but there is no way I’m getting naked in front of this guy. The few times I’ve had sex, it’s been in the dark.

  Don’t want anyone seeing the belly.

  I know that sounds funny coming from someone who makes videos for online pervs to jack off too, but no one is watching me. It isn’t intimate. Behind closed doors, in a bedroom with a guy I’m hot for, that’s intimate.

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  His expression morphs into a frown. “Kinsley, I’m afraid the cleansing ritual is necessary.” He reaches out to take my hands again. “Please trust me.”