Magic After Dark Boxed Set (Six Book Bundle)

by Deanna Chase

  Simon’s hand went down in slow motion, setting the wine on the table as he said, “Well, render me speechless.”

  Both chairs slid back and the men rose to their feet. Justus could have been catching flies as he looked at the outfit he had bought me that I never wore, and his cheeks were blotchy.

  “Allow me,” Simon said. “Someone has to be the gentleman here. It’s not every day we’re in the presence of a female Mage.” Simon cupped my elbow and escorted me to my chair. Leaning around, his breath tickled my neck. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  “Wow,” was all I could manage to say.

  There were actually dishes and crystal glasses on the table. Candles flickered at the center and each plate had a serving of carrots and roasted potatoes next to a sumptuous rib eye steak. There was a beautiful salad and a plate of spring onions with radishes. My mouth immediately watered.

  Simon’s jacket was tossed casually over the back of his chair on my right, giving me an appreciative look at his physique. While he did not match Justus in size, he was hard and toned. His profile was very striking and made me look more than once.

  He rested his elbows and forearms on the table, looking proudly at the setting. These two men didn’t look like the type to forge a fast friendship, I thought curiously, looking at Simon’s torn black shirt and leather wrist cuff. For someone who sported so much leather it was oddly contrasted against skin which didn’t have a single tattoo or piercing that I could see.

  My face scrunched at Justus. “You didn’t cook this, did you?”

  Simon leaned over and poured red wine into my glass. “That man may be able to dress for the occasion, but he could not cook to save his own life. Of course you know that by now.” He gave a wink and took his chair. “I, on the other hand, am not without certain skills which I have refined to an art form. I find that the meal is a prelude to the pleasures of the bedroom. It sets the tone. If I can make a woman moan at the table, then I’ve already got her eating out of my hand. And… I do believe it’s time you had a proper meal.”

  The statement was left out there hanging, making me wonder about the latter part. He took a napkin and sharply shook it out, placing it over his lap. “Is everything to your liking?”

  That was a fully loaded question if I ever heard one.

  “Umm, yeah. My eyes are having sex with this table as we speak.”

  Justus choked on his wine and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. The silence was pierced by Simon’s contagious laugh. He was a man who enjoyed a good one, too, as he let it go long and strong until the awkward moment was removed and I found myself smiling at him. I reached for a slice of fresh, warm bread in the cloth-lined basket and spread a blanket of butter across the top.

  “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. I’m going to devour everything—this looks amazing.”

  “As do you; don’t you agree, Justus?”

  Justus returned his stare with a contemptuous one of his own. I took a lingering sip of my wine and discovered what I had been ordering in restaurants was pure swill compared to this. Simon continued to ask for Justus’s opinion of me, and I gathered he was testing the waters to see if Justus had any interest in me.

  Little did he know that wasn’t the case. As sumptuous-looking as he was, we had a very teacher-student relationship going on and our personalities clashed in a way that burned out any physical desire that bloomed.

  “How did you get the steak cooked up so fast? Microwave?”

  “I never arrive unannounced without something big and juicy in hand.”

  Oh dear Lord.

  “So you two are old friends,” I said, changing the subject. “Where are you from, Simon? I’m going to guess England, so if I’m wrong, dinner is on me next time.”

  “Define… on.” Simon gave a wolfish grin and refilled his wine glass with a heavy glug, glug.

  “Simon,” Justus warned, plunging his fork into a potato that met its demise between his powerful jaws.

  After taking a long, thoughtful sip from his crystal glass, Simon crossed his knife over the steak. “Well then, on those conditions I must confess that I am from Spain.”

  “While you’re confessing, Simon, maybe you should mention that you only lived there, so that does not count.”

  After two or three chews of his meat, Justus continued with a mouthful. “He’s from England. We’ve been friends for a turn of a century, give or take.” Justus held his fork like a man still trying to stab his meal to death. “After I saved his ass.”

  “Saved me?” Simon seemed appalled by the very notion as his pitch rose. “I would have bested that Mage.”

  “You certainly bested his wife,” Justus murmured.

  “Yes, and he wasn’t all too pleased with that, now was he?” Simon was very animated with his arms when he spoke, even if he held a glass in his hand. “I learned my lesson, mate. What a mouth on that one, right? And despite what you believe, I did not shag her knowing that she was bonded to him.”

  “Didn’t see the mark, hmmm?” Justus replied. “You’ve been saying that for decades.”

  “Justus, my eyes were not in that postcode, my friend.” He chuckled.

  “What mark?” I took a long sip of wine as I studied the way they looked at each other.

  Justus picked up a carrot with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. “Some choose to permanently stay together. It’s not common… there aren’t—” He paused.

  “Aren’t what?” I asked.

  “Very many female Mage, is what he means to say,” Simon blurted. “Those who hook up for the long haul get a bonding mark. Most Breed don’t really believe in rings, we go for something more permanent.” He snorted. “Can’t be taken off as easily.”

  I liked Simon; he was honest and answered my questions. I felt like I could get information from him that Justus wasn’t always willing to discuss. Everything was always for a later lesson.

  “How long will Simon be staying with us?”

  Simon was the one who replied. “That remains up to your…. Ghuardian.” He thoroughly seemed to enjoy playing with that title as the tip of his tongue ran along the prongs of the fork. I heard a low growl across the table and Justus drank his wine to the bottom.

  “Learner, what does he do all day with you, knock you around?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mostly; after that he reads me bedtime stories about Mage law.”

  “Oh, bloody hell.” Simon gave an infectious laugh and winked. “Torture, indeed. All work and no play? Surely he lets you out.”

  “Never.”

  Justus was avoiding my stare. Simon laced his fingers together and obscured his mouth. Something played across his face I wasn’t able to read.

  “Justus, a Ghuardian needn’t shelter the Learner. In fact,” he said pointedly, “they absolutely must get out there and interact with the humans. She must learn how to handle that kind of energy and interact with her own kind, as well. You don’t do her any service by keeping her locked up in here,” he said, waving his fork. “You can train her all you want in that dungeon of yours, but if you don’t expose her to the simple things she needs to learn to control, then she’ll always be vulnerable.”

  Silence swept through the room and I set my fork down on the plate. That singular noise snapped the tension.

  “It’s decided.” Simon gleamed. “Tomorrow, we go to the club.”

  Justus didn’t look too thrilled, more defeated than anything. “Fine.”

  Simon rolled his tongue across the inside of his bottom lip, tasting victory. Scratch “no piercing.”

  “How did you two meet?” Simon asked.

  “In a bar.”

  “Ah, a pub. Should have guessed.” He chuckled softly.

  “I was trying to enjoy my glass of tea while he was trying to get me to wear it.” That conjured a smile on Justus’s face as he took a bite of food.

  “I see you still have a way with the ladies, Justus. But I have to give you a four-point-five in technique.”


  “It took some convincing, but I finally agreed to let him be my Ghuardian, and here I am.”

  “Yes, here you are,” Simon said, raising his glass with a smile. I raised mine and our glasses clinked together. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a social dinner with good conversation. Being holed up for months with Mr. Partypooper was beginning to eat at my fragile state of mind.

  After dinner, I cleared the table to let the boys catch up. Simon watched the way Justus and I interacted with keen interest. It pleased him anytime I disagreed or made a sarcastic remark. He gave an expression like he had never seen anyone stand up to Justus.

  I set a glass in the dish rack and reached for a plate when I jumped, startled by someone standing beside me.

  “Simon is right. You must learn control in the outside world,” he said, rubbing his tattoo. “We will talk about conditions to this; you’ll require close protection.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’ll be near, right?”

  I ran a dish under the hot water, scraping the plate and wondering why it took a visit from his friend to make him figure that out.

  “Here, allow me,” he said. “You should take care not to ruin your new outfit.” Justus took the plate but paused. I caught something in that look—it was warm and gentle. “You look nice; I should have told you before. This look is becoming on you.” Color rose on his cheeks when I didn’t respond right away, but I guess I was waiting for a punch line and was taken off guard by his sincerity.

  “Are you paying me a compliment? That must have been some strong wine—I know how you hate the way I normally dress.”

  “You do not embarrass me.”

  Steam rose from the hot water and I reached over him to grab the plate and began to dry it with a cloth.

  “You smell nice,” he started to say under his breath before the door swung open and Simon waltzed in like a hurricane holding the empty wine bottle.

  “We got any more of these, mate?” He waved the bottle and set it down on the stretch of cabinet.

  “Had I known you were visiting, I would have made sure the wine was at the ready. Let me find something vile,” Justus barked as he strode out the doorway.

  Simon sidled up and put his elbows on the sink, leaning back.

  “One hundred dollars says he leaves the bar with a girl on each arm.”

  “Whatever.” I coughed. “He hasn’t gone out in months and frankly the way he talks to women is infuriating. Plus, he would never do that in front of me; I think he’d be too embarrassed of my making fun of him,” I whispered.

  “Chicken?” He started to cluck.

  “Nooo.” I tossed the dishtowel at him and he flinched. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Well then,” he considered, “I shall take a kiss as my reward.”

  “Shall you? And if I win, I get the money?” The prospect of having a little pocket cash perked me right up. A girl could always use a little mascara, a few books, maybe some decent chocolate.

  He dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. I spied a mark on the back of his neck where his hair swept back. I leaned back for a better look when he snapped around to face me. Simon leaned in as if telling a secret and his arm lightly touched mine, making my hairs stand on end.

  “You shall be… justly rewarded. But of course I’m good for the money! A word of advice, love? Put on your sweetest gloss. That man always has his cake… and eats it, too.” He laughed.

  The door swung wide and Justus came in, carrying a bottle in each hand, looking between them as if he couldn’t decide.

  “See what I mean?”

  Pushing off of the counter, Simon plucked a bottle of vintage from his left hand and strode out the door.

  Chapter 18

  Club High Jinx swelled with human energy. I pushed through warm bodies pungent with the smell of sweat, perfume, and desire. The dance floor was energetic, and I could feel the pulse as if I were in a room of live wires. It was surreal to be among humans and know that I was no longer one of them.

  Simon sported a leather coat and a tattered dark shirt, but tonight his jeans were replaced by tight leather pants. I had never actually seen a man wearing leather pants and I didn’t have a single complaint. They were snug with a prominent zipper that ran up the front. I poked fun that all he was missing was a leash, given he was wearing a leather collar. His reply was more of a question of who would be holding the leash.

  Justus, quite oppositely, had an ensemble that was sophisticated and put together. Given we were going to a club where nearly everyone was half-naked, I found this amusing. I felt a little like I was walking in with an angel on one arm and a devil on the other.

  I wore a pair of knee-high black boots with a pleated skirt and a vibrant green, button-up top that matched my eyes perfectly. My black hair cascaded over my shoulders in soft, dark waves and a few wispy strands flew about my face.

  “Can you feel that?” Simon shouted in my ear. “A human club is the best place to learn control.”

  We moved to a table that was off to the side with high stools, and I ordered something on the drink menu called an Absolut Pleasure, named after the vodka.

  Simon continued once the waitress left. “You see, just being in a public place isn’t going to provoke the same reaction as a club. The vibes here are more intense; energy levels are through the roof because of their emotional state.”

  He watched two women snake their way to the dance floor. They began to sway and move with the music, trying to tease the men around them by grinding on each other. I rolled my eyes but before I turned away, I noticed that something caught their attention, as it did many of the women. They began looking around as if they smelled something delicious in the air but couldn’t place what it was or where it was coming from.

  A cookie named Justus.

  “Is this intense enough for you?” he asked, turning back to me.

  “Well, I certainly see it must be for you,” I replied.

  The waitress returned with the chilled beers. “Yours will be out in a minute, honey.” I sighed; why did waitresses always have to call you honey and sweetie? It was particularly worse when they were younger than you and barely of drinking age.

  She batted her lashes at Justus and rolled that tongue across those pink lips. Here we go.

  “Soooo… what do you do for a living?” I asked Simon.

  The answer I got was a short laugh as he leaned over the table. “You haven’t told her of the Mageri positions, have you?” Simon shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the back of the chair.

  I looked up at Justus.

  “Later, Learner. School is out tonight, so have some fun.” His hand ran over his tatted bicep in a slow, methodical manner, which signaled the ladies at the nearby table to come over and admire it.

  “Hey, nice tat,” one of them purred as her finger crawled over his arm, inching up his sleeve. Justus perked up like a flower in the sunshine coming to life, reminding me of the man I first met in that Memphis bar. He literally ate up the attention while his eyes licked every square inch of that woman. He was a cat named Ego being stroked, and I stewed at the women as if they were the ones that caused it. I didn’t like it when Justus behaved that way; I preferred his stoic seriousness far more than the smug sex panther.

  The platinum-blond waitress quickly swung back around with my drink and placed it on a napkin. She possessively leaned toward Justus as the nearness to his charm began to work its magic. If Love Potion #9 had an extract, it would be Justus. I mentally snickered at the thought.

  “Can I get you something stronger; is everything to your satisfaction?”

  It was like a PBS special on Wild Kingdom.

  I reached down and bottomed out my drink. Within a minute or two, I felt the alcohol tingling in my body like a warm suggestion.

  A redhead curled herself around Justus, running her fingers out of sight when I heard her muttering something about him being a very bad boy. His
eyebrows danced in an is that so? expression.

  Simon draped his arm on the back of my chair and turned his head as if he were looking behind me. “Pony up.”

  I smelled defeat—I was just refusing to admit it this early on. “The night is still young.”

  “And so are they,” he noted as the girls were feeding on the nectar of the god that was Justus. Simon was gloating, clearly pleased that he was going to win his bet.

  “Okay, boys, you two be good—I’m dancing.” Inhibitions be damned, I was feelin’ the flow after having been cooped up in that house for way too long. I didn’t know these people, so what did it matter if I went out there and had a good time?

  “Watch my purse.” I slammed it in front of Mr. Leather Pants so it was clear he was not invited. Sore loser?

  You bet.

  Besides, I wanted to go out there and do a little fishing. I hadn’t really test-driven this body.

  The thrumming beat was driving the dancers wild as a current of energy was literally melting off them in a fine mist that engulfed me. The lights flickered and I worked my hips intentionally slower than the beat. I was delighted to see a few glances fall my way. I ran my hands through my hair and just let myself go as the swell of bodies moved like an ocean tide.

  Just four feet away, bedroom eyes were poring all over me. A hot guy with short, spiked hair moved up without saying a word and began to dance. He lifted my arm to his shoulder, inviting me to join him, and with every move of our hips to the beat, he inched closer and closer. He had beautifully tanned skin already glowing with sweat. Steady hands smoothed down my side until they met with the bare skin above my waistline.

  The feel of his skin was sinful. I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t care.

  I had been missing out on something all those months—and that was physical contact. The only contact I had received was fists, elbows, and heels knocking me down on a mat. Justus never hugged or touched me unless he was healing me; he was very peculiar about that. I wasn’t a person who necessarily craved touch, but when you’ve been deprived of it for so long the first time simply ignites you in the most unexpected way.