Familiar Magic

by AJ Hampton

  As soon as he touched her, the magic in her veins rushed at him. He flinched but didn’t remove his hands.

  She looked up at him. “I’m not asking you to be my bitch. A familiar is a companion, an equal. A soul mate. Every witch has a shape shifter that she, or he, is meant to find. It’s a system of balance. We aren’t anything without the other. My father’s was a leopard, my great-grandfather’s a tiger. I think my great-aunt’s was a wolf. We don’t know who our familiars are until we stumble upon them. The first night you staggered into my bar, I knew you were mine.”

  He digested the information, and his nostrils flared. “Is that what Brenda meant when she said you inherited your father’s claws? I think I’d notice if you turned furry once a month.”

  She shook her head and tried not to smile. “Brenda was just being cute. Besides, I’m not much of anything. Not a shifter. Not a witch. I’m all talk, no show.”

  “No show, my ass,” he grumbled.

  It was the first glimpse of a smile she’d seen reflected in his eyes since she’d ruined their sexcapade.

  “You think I walk around ‘scaring the crap out of people’? You terrify Miah.”

  She smiled. “Miah is afraid of ladybugs.”

  A wide, loving smile finally cracked through his anger. “I forgot about that. Thanks for the reminder.”

  Trying to keep things on track, she forged forward. He needed to know everything; no more stalling. “If you agree to become my familiar, there is a ritual. I give you my virginity. In turn, I get to be a witch. Until then, I’m not anything.”

  She dropped onto the couch and folded her legs underneath her. Back and forth, she pulled her necklace across her neck. It helped her think, reminded her of what her mother was, what she stood for.

  His hand hovered over her arm, but he didn’t touch her. Did he expect the magic to just rise from her skin like mist?

  “I’ve felt your magic, experienced it before I even walked into your bar. When I met your eyes, I knew you were different,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You felt the magic because you brought it to life. Before you walked into that bar, I’d never felt so much as a flicker. It’s you, your jaguar that makes me what I am.”

  Trent plopped down beside her. The heat of his shoulder against her erased the chill the cold ground had left inside her.

  “Why now?” he asked.

  “The full moon falls on Halloween this year. As you know, Halloween is the only day the bridge to the living dissolves. They both occur at the same time only once every nineteen years or so. Under the full moon we do a binding ritual. My magic keeps you from shifting, yet, at the same time, when our minds meet, your animal takes me as your mate. When our souls bind, my ancestors cough up the good stuff, and bam.”

  “Mates?” Trent looked like he was going to be sick. His skin paled, turned almost green, and he shot across the room as far from her as he could get. Now he was the one making her dizzy. “You want to get hitched? We haven’t even gone out to dinner. I can’t handle this.”

  This really wasn’t working out how she’d planned. “It’s more than a marriage. I can’t explain...” When she looked up, he didn’t meet her eyes. “Don’t you feel it? Feel how connected we are? God, do you think I would have picked you for this? You’re a royal pain in my ass! Hot, sure. It’s not our choice what fate chooses for us. I know your ex screwed you, ran off with your friend, but I swear on everything I am that what we have goes far, far beyond that.”

  “He told you?” In the span of a few minutes, she’d seen him aroused, concerned, flabbergasted, and now angry as all hell.

  Oh, no. “Don’t get mad at Miah.”

  “What else has he opened his big mouth about? Does he know about this?” His finger zinged back and forth between them too fast to watch. The nice buzz she’d had when Trent had pushed her against the wall and kissed her senseless was gone. Now, her head ached.

  She squared her shoulders and made sure she had his gaze. On a normal day, she wasn’t afraid of him. Why should she start now?

  “He said you were in love with me. Was he lying?”

  Trent’s back stiffened. He didn’t deny it, and he didn’t look away. The silence didn’t make her feel any better, though.

  “So if I don’t go along with your little ritual, what happens?” he asked.

  Shrugging her shoulders caused her back to cling briefly to the couch. She let out a long, low breath.

  “This has to be your choice. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I know it’s a commitment, but I’m not indenturing you into slavery. You won’t be at my beck and call. Equals. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “I’ve got to think about this,” he said.

  Trent knelt in front of her and cupped her cheek. She nuzzled against the heat of his palm. As if to prove her point, she let the magic he called up in her flow through them.

  “I do love you,” he whispered.

  “But?” she prompted when he said nothing else but stared into her eyes.

  His hand fell from her cheek. With it, so did her magic.

  “I don’t know if I can be what you need. Everything inside me wants to dominate you, pin you to that couch and fuck you as hard as I can. I want to bite you, leave my mark deep inside you, make sure no one ever touches you, looks at you, ever again. Everything inside of you wants to fight against that possession. Whether your father was a shifter or not, you’ve got no idea how strong the animal instincts inside me are. Fighting and fucking are the only two things I’m good at. Love was never on the table.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it. He stopped her.

  “Just give me some time,” he said.

  Sam nodded, watched as he picked up his shirt. As he turned, the shirt fell into place, and the crisscross of claw marks disappeared under the fabric. He all but ran to the stairs left of the elevator. When she no longer heard the heavy thud of his boots, she fell back against the couch.

  He was right, in a way. She hated that he was possessive and demanding. But at the same time, what she hated about him, she loved: his aggression, his dominance, his stubborn need to be the best. Their partnership was about balance. Too bad they were both too fucked up to complete much of anything, let alone a circle. But maybe that was what made them so perfect. Who wanted a nice round circle when they could have a misshapen ball?

  Chapter Five

  Not many things in life scared the shit out of Trent. Somehow Sam, with her wide, gentle eyes, had managed to make him a trembling mess. A familiar? What the fuck? His hands shook, stomach tied in a knot, and he slammed his palm against the door at the top of the stairwell. He was a witch’s bitch. Fate, he mused, must be a cruel, evil woman who was out to get him.

  Sure, Sam was gorgeous, sassy, and one hell of a kisser. He even loved her. But mates? He’d sworn off women the second he’d thrown his boutonniere to the floor and twisted his heel over it. Right next to the pulverized mess the rose became landed his matching crimson tie.

  Over the last ten years, his take-no-prisoners attitude had worked fine. When the urge struck, he filled it with a quick rough and tumble. Why in the hell did he have to stagger into the Watering Hole that night and see her?

  From the second he saw Sam, he might as well have dug a grave and dove right in. Screwed. Why hadn’t he left town, avoided this exact situation? He’d tried; instinct wouldn’t let him.

  The door creaked open, the sound raising the hair on his arms. As soon as he entered the main floor of the bar, heat slapped him in the face. He deserved it. The music pulsed, penetrated him. The tune had shifted from country to hard electric guitars and vocals that sounded like women shrieking. If his head hadn’t hurt before, he knew it would in only a matter of minutes.

  He had one mission: get the hell out of the bar before he took out his aggression on his brother. The chatty bastard. He should kick his ass. He was going to kick his ass, right after he went home to drown his thoughts in liquor. He’d been blind
sided tonight. Jeremiah had been the catalyst.

  “Worse than a goddamned, pansy-assed matchmaker,” he mumbled under his breath, storming across the room.

  ‘Are you in love with me?’ she’d asked him. He had wanted to deny it, to walk out of the room the second she started spouting off about being soul mates. He couldn’t. Just as clearly as he felt the spark of her magic, he felt that they belonged together. His options were simple: go along with her ritual, bind them together, and make her suffer through his moody bullshit; or, walk away and kill the light inside of her. Simple, his ass.

  Every step he took increased the buzzing in his head. The jaguar roared, paced, did everything it could to let his agitation be known. The only thing that kept him from shifting was his hand on his feline’s tail, holding it just below the surface. Sweat beaded at the nape of his neck, trailed beneath his collar and down his back. Sam had touched him there, traced her nails over just one of the many battle wounds he’d acquired in the last few years. Her scent, the taste of her skin, lingered in his mouth. He had a clear picture of her breasts, the indent of her stomach, the tiny mole just left of her hip. When she’d spread her thighs, exposing the tiny black panties, he’d almost come in his pants like a schoolboy.

  “I know it’s been a while, but damn, that was quick. Where’s Sam?” With a wide grin, Jeremiah stepped in front of him. His brother’s gaze darted from him to the door he’d just come out of.

  Trent took in a deep breath through his nose, his fists curled into a ball. His brother meant well; he really did. Trent lifted his head to meet his brother’s eyes. One step forward closed the space between him and Jeremiah until their chests touched. Jeremiah’s eyes went wide. His back stiffened. Good. At least he had the sense to be afraid.

  Aggression, anger, pent-up sexual frustration...it all jumbled inside him. His hand slipped on the tail he was clutching. It was the inch his kitty needed. Canines slipped from his gums, and the first strands of fur grew from the tops of his hands.

  “Don’t.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. “I can’t believe you told her.”

  “Trent,” Jeremiah warned, then took an immediate step back when a growl ripped from Trent’s throat.

  Smoke hazed around him, filled his lungs. His body was already moving before his brain could catch up. A gasp sounded from the poor guy who’d picked a table in his line of sight.

  “Cigarette, now.” He slapped a hand on the table, looked up, and met wide, terrified eyes. Even shifters got a little uneasy when you were half human, half animal.

  Scrambling, the kid did his best to open up his pack of Marlboros. The white stick hovered in the air, shaking, before Trent rolled his eyes and snatched it. He ripped off the brown filter and stuck the rest between his lips. When he held out his hand, a lighter landed in it.

  His thumb rasped against the wheel of the lighter, and he took in a deep breath. The smell of the flame mixed with the sweet nicotine. He drew the smoke into his mouth, brought it into his lungs, taming the sudden craving. In, out. He ignored the loose tobacco that stuck to the inside of his lip.

  He tossed the lighter to the table and turned right into Jeremiah. The kid didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. Never removing the cigarette from his mouth, he blew a line of smoke into Jeremiah’s face.

  Waving the mist aside, Jeremiah straightened to his full height. Being as tall as he was, he tended to slouch.

  “She needed to know,” Jeremiah said. His tone was defensive.

  “The hell she did. Now get out of my way. I’m not in the mood for this.” For every step he took, his brother took one more. He’d forgotten the ashy aftertaste cigarettes left in his mouth. As he walked by a table of werebears, he smashed his half-smoked cigarette in their ashtray.

  “What in the hell put your panties in a bunch?” Jeremiah yelled.

  Trent stopped, turned to look into his brother’s eyes. His brother was asking for it.

  The room changed. His eyes pulled tight, and colors morphed. It was too late to pull back the beast. Trent walked backward and stumbled out of the doors. The night pressed into him, cool and windless. He dropped to his knees; his stomach curled, twisted, and he fisted the gravel beneath his hands. Glass dug into his palms, drew blood. The scent filled the air until he tasted copper in his mouth.

  Bones shifted. His back arched, spine lengthening. The last thing he heard as a human was the ripping of cloth before his jaguar pushed to the surface and took control. He shook his head, body following. He whipped his tail, felt it curling in the air. He drew in a deep breath. The familiar scent of the earth filled him. Pine. Soil. Rain. There was something else much fouler that lingered in the air. The wolf pack was near. Goodie. He padded forward.

  Trees rustled along the edge of forest that lined the western side of the bar. Through the cars and trucks, he watched branches sway. Leaves crunched, giving off a subtle scent. He tilted his head, studied the shadows that appeared between the trees. As the hunger inside him mounted, the scents around him shifted. A tight sensation puckered the skin below his fur, and his hackles rose.

  If Trent could have grinned, he would have. It appeared the wolf pack he’d tangled with earlier was just as ready as he was to finish their business. He sprinted forward. Pleasure filled him, made his blood sing. The air caressed his fur. Each strand that moved tickled his skin, invigorated him. The faster he ran, the more scents he took in. Their mixing changed the taste in his mouth with every inch of earth he passed. All those smells stayed with him, told him where to go, when to hide, and when to hunt.

  He stopped at the edge of the clearing and let out a bellowing roar that reverberated through the night. If they wanted to play, he was more than willing to unleash his anger. One by one, the glimmering sheen of their eyes pierced the darkness. Padding forward, he drew them out, into his sight. He’d either have to drag their bodies deep in the woods to bury them, or save himself the trouble and drop them right where he wanted them. This was going to be a dirty fight. Once an animal tasted blood, it only spurred on the need for more. No, this was a fight to the death. They closed in around him, filtered out through the trees in wolf form.

  Trent moved in a circle, baring his teeth and eying each one of his prey. He swatted, his razor-sharp claws gleaming in the light of the moon. The pack began the dance. They snarled, advanced, and then retreated. Power leaked into the air. It was potent, unsettling. It should have been a warning, a sign that he might be outclassed. At six to one, he knew he was being foolish. Everything went silent, as if the earth sensed the danger and backed off. But pride wouldn’t let him bow out. He was Alpha. Male. Stronger, quicker, more powerful than these dogs, and he’d show them.

  The first wolf attacked, jumped into the air. He pushed off the ground with his hind legs and sprang to meet him. His tail moved, lashed against a solid body before they collided in air. The rest was just a tussle of fur and teeth. The wolf went straight for his neck. He was quicker. Blood filled his mouth, the rich, salty taste just whetting his appetite for more. The ground crashed under his feet, and he rolled, pulling his attacker with him. The wolf yelped, a pitiful cry that was silenced when he dug his teeth into its neck and shook. Bones popped. As the wolf’s heart thudded into silence, Trent’s heart beat harder.

  Two wolves jumped on his back. The sting of claws forced him to drop their brethren. He reared back in an attempt to throw them off. Two more leaped, sharp teeth dripping with saliva, aiming for his neck. As he pulled on all his strength, a fierce snarl ripped from his throat. He shook the beasts off his back, curving his neck enough to grip one of their napes and yank. The wolf crashed to the ground, yelping before it sprang upright. The wolf growled and limped forward, blood dripping to the ground.

  They circled, never taking their eyes off each other. He swatted, his paw colliding with solid muscle. The wolf tumbled to the ground. He watched its snout slide through gravel. Triumph gave him a burst of adrenaline. The wolf didn’t get up. Teeth pierced Trent’s th
igh, forcing him around in a circle. He tried to shake off the attack. Another wolf jumped, hit him on the opposite side. Pain shot through his lungs and made it hard to draw in a breath. He staggered, thrashed with claws and teeth to fight free. His tail twitched, sliding through dirt. The beast biting him shook its head, tried to separate muscle from bone. Heat pierced his leg, spread into his back.

  Crying out, he swung and managed to take down another wolf. For every one he threw to the ground, another rose. It was becoming hard to breathe. Adrenaline coursed through, kept him upright. Blood dripped from the wounds along his back and limbs. The pack surged, fed off the doubt that began to crawl inside him. They lunged, knocked him to his side.

  The world grew black, the sound of snarls dampening out everything else. Sam. He shouldn’t have been such a coward. He would jump headfirst into a fight with a pack of bloodthirsty beasts, yet he wasn’t man enough to take her, to claim her as his own. A guttural cry rent through the night, and teeth closed around his neck. Heaviness pressed along his back and legs. The pack howled, the jaw at his neck tightened, teeth piercing his skin. Trent was too weak to move, to fight them off. Samantha...

  Chapter Six

  The doors opened with a pathetic ding, and Sam pushed off the elevator wall. She didn’t know why Trent was so afraid of it. The shaft worked. Most of the time. Still naked and shivering in the cool air, she’d taken longer to dress than she should have, spending her time staring at the ceiling. She’d fucked up.

  Head tilted to the ground, she made every effort she could not to look around when she walked into the bar. Compared to the temperature in the room below, it felt like a sauna up here. Heat pulsed with the music and the fog of smoke. It was suffocating. Out of habit, she looked up, searched out Trent’s table. She felt stupid for even thinking he might have stuck around. Her eyes watered, blurred her vision. She wouldn’t cry, not here at least.