by Lily Luchesi
“So, you aren’t afraid of me?” Ash asked.
The girl shook her head and the Prince let out a breath.
“Good, that means that you won’t mind me doing this.”
…
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. As soon as his lips touched her, he remembered everything. It was like a spell had been cast upon them and the cobwebs were finally coming off. He could see his life way before he was a demon or an angel. Shockingly, he used to be a human.
The End for now
Thank you for reading Otherworldly part I. If you want to read the rest, please sit tight until Winter 2021 when the full novella will be published. If you’re a lover of historical fiction, or you just want to try something new, check out my other works The White King, a War of the Roses story or The Heir’s Game, a contemporary love story between a London model and an eccentric CEO.
About the Author
Corinne M Knight writes historical, contemporary and paranormal romance. She lives in Wales with her husband, but dreams about living in remote Scotland in an old castle, far away from the concrete jungle. She loves reading history books for fun and considers herself a bit of a geek.
You can find her online at
https://www.facebook.com/corinnemknightwrites/
https://twitter.com/corinnemkauthor
https://www.instagram.com/corinnemknightauthor/
Or if you want to see what inspires her stories, you can find it on Tumbler at
https://corinnemknight.tumblr.com
Also by Corinne M Knight
The War of the Roses series:
The White King (Out Now)
Fire and Steel (TBC)
Tales of the Order of the Dragon series:
The Vampire Knight (Releasing Soon)
Otherworldly (Releasing 2021)
The Midnight Prince (TBC)
Standalones:
The Heir’s Game (Out Now)
Deep Under (Releasing 2021)
Beauty and the Duke (Releasing 2021)
MOONLIGHT & MALICE
A Kizzie Stroud Story
Margo Bond Collins
About Moonlight & Malice
Kizzie Stroud knows about magic. She’s been learning to use it ever since she saved her boyfriend Evan’s life with her tarot cards two years ago.
But she didn’t know about monsters.
Until now.
She’s about to learn more than she ever wanted to.
1. Kizzie
The first time I died, the cards didn't warn me.
Or maybe they did. That's the problem with divination—it's too vague. What I needed that night wasn't a tarot deck, with its Tower and Wheel of Fortune telling me the world was coming apart and things were about to change in a big way.
Hell, every carnie knows that.
No, what I needed was a giant, neon sign with one of those blinking red arrows pointing right at me. Preferably with enormous letters spelling out the danger. And an exclamation mark or two for good measure. Something along the lines of “Watch out for monsters, Kizzie!”
The universe doesn't often give that kind of notice, though, so I was walking to my van alone, long after final tear-down—the one that happens the night before we all move on to the next town. The new barker had offered to walk me down the long stretch of the now-empty midway, but I knew what he was after and I wasn't interested.
I kind of wish I had been.
My life would be completely different now.
Or maybe if Evan hadn’t gone off in a huff two days earlier, volunteering to take over for Larry, our usual advance man. But Larry was laid up with a stomach bug, and Evan was pissed at me.
Again.
So my boyfriend had taken off to cover what the carnival needed done in a town before we actually arrived—everything from licenses to bribes—leaving me to fend off amorous barkers and ravenous monsters, all by my lonesome.
Sometimes, when the memories of that night start to overwhelm me, I have to remind myself that “different” and “better” are not the same thing.
Even if Evan had been there, I still might have died.
Or maybe he’d be dead—and not the “it’s all okay, I’m up and walking around” kind of dead that I got. He might have ended up with the “buried and gone forever” kind of dead.
That would be way worse.
Anyway, as I headed to my van that hot summer night in Georgia, I wasn’t paying attention to the world around me. I had my head down, watching for the telltale glint of moonlight on coins, reading the midway for dropped change and other lost treasure. This time, I had my eye on a college literature textbook I’d seen online. If I could pull together the bank for it, I’d get a prepaid debit card, place my order, and have the book sent general delivery to the post office in the next town, where I could pick it up to add to my collection.
As much as it had irritated Daddy when Granna gave me a van of my own on my eighteenth birthday, he’d been glad to see all my books go. At least that’s what he’d said. “Save me a hundred dollars a month just in gas money, not hauling around all that extra weight,” he grumbled.
Me having a van of my own was what Evan was pissed about, too. I’d had it for almost a year, and I hadn’t let him move in with me yet. He was still traveling with the Wilsons, who’d taken him on to train him when he’d joined up with our carnival—and he’d signed on to the carnie life in part because of me.
But that’s another story.
I wasn’t thinking about any of that as I scooped up a quarter right at the end of the stretch of grass that had been the midway, up until all the rides and food joints and games of chance had been pulled down and packed away for the next town.
I wasn’t thinking much of anything that I can recall.
When I think about it, here’s what I do remember: the first bit is in flashes, not like a video clip, but like a series of still photos in a slideshow, changing almost too quickly to see—some too blurry to make out much of anything, others unnaturally clear and sharp—intermixed with odd, almost disconnected sensory details.
The quarter I picked up from the grass, cold and slick from what would become the early morning dew, slipping from my fingers into the pocket of my jeans.
The way my messenger bag, the one I use to carry my tarot cards to and from the tent where Granna I do readings for the townies, bumps against my hip.
My van, a dark shadow at the back of the lot, with metal glinting in the moonlight.
The beep as I unlocked it from a distance with the key fob Granna had insisted I have.
From the tangle of undergrowth and kudzu-covered trees I’d parked next to came a low, menacing growl.
I remember slowing down, wondering if I’d heard that right.
I didn’t stop, though. I kept on moving toward my van.
Then two flame-licked eyes started glowing out of the underbrush.
That’s when the whole memory speeds up. But it’s also when I lose the recollection of any sensations other than pain.
2. Kizzie
I had gone with Evan the last time he’d covered for Larry. We didn’t get away by ourselves very often. Life in a traveling carnival is tight. Everyone always knows where you are and what you’re doing, so it felt like freedom to skip the breakdown and head out early.
We got a whole night to ourselves in my van, even springing for the luxury of a camping spot in a state park where no one would come looking for us.
“Actually,” Evan waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively as we snuggled into the thin layer of foam on the floor in the back end of the van, “I think we should stay right here in bed all day tomorrow. Skip covering for Larry and just catch up with everyone when they get to town the next day.”
I couldn’t help snickering--his exaggerated leer was so utterly ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as not doing the job that we’d been sent to do.
Evan bent down and captured my mouth with his. His tongue flickered against my l
ips, and suddenly I wasn’t laughing anymore.
I melted into him with a sigh. “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” I murmured when he finally stopped kissing me several long, silent moments later.
“What is?” Evan asked, his tone distracted.
“Staying right here in bed. Who needs a carnival license, really? Larry can take care of it when he gets to town.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Evan claimed, sweeping me into his arms and kissing me again. I giggled, and he pulled away in mock outrage. “You think I’m kidding?”
He unwrapped his arms from around me and raised himself up onto his knees, moving to kneel between my legs. Grasping the bottom of my shirt in his hands, he lifted it up over my head as I raised my arms. He kissed a line down my body, starting with my neck, speaking words between the kisses. “We could stay here forever. No one would ever find us.”
Reaching behind me, he unhooked my bra and drew the straps down over my shoulders. Soon, it joined the rest of our clothing in a pile on the van floor next to us.
With one hand, he cupped one breast almost reverently, then leaned down to drop a kiss on the nipple. It tightened under his touch, and he flicked his tongue out to pull it into his mouth, sucking gently. I dropped my head back and moaned, pushing my breasts out toward him.
He repeated the actions on the other side, then cupped them together, moving back and forth from one to the other, licking and sucking until I had goosebumps all over.
When he unbuttoned my jeans, I leaned back on my elbows to lift my hips and wriggle a little to help him as he drew my pants down over my legs and off my body. As he dropped those on the floor, as well, I stretched out under his gaze.
With a wicked smile, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of my silk panties and pulled them off, as well.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.
When he bent down to kiss my sex, I whimpered in anticipation.
“And you taste amazing.”
With that, he buried his face between my legs, sucking my clit into his mouth and rolling around it with his tongue. Just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he added his hands, slipping a finger inside me. I cried out in pleasure, moving to the rhythm he set with his finger and mouth.
A familiar ache began building inside me, pooling in my belly and sending tiny shockwaves through my legs. “More,” I begged. “Please, Evan, more.”
With a grin, Evan sat up, rising to his knees and pulling off the sweatpants I had loaned him. “How much more?” he asked.
“All of you,” I commanded. “I want all of you.”
3. Evan
When Kizzie died, I was a hundred miles away, dreaming about the last time we had sex.
I awoke with a start and sat straight up, knowing without a doubt that I needed to get to her immediately.
I left everything in the hotel room I’d booked for one glorious night completely alone, stopping only long enough to tug on the jeans and -shirt I’d been wearing earlier before racing out to Larry’s truck.
I couldn’t have told you how I knew she was in trouble. But when I unlocked the door and slid onto the bench seat, I found one of her tarot cards in the passenger seat where it hadn’t been before.
I didn’t even question how the card gotten there. It was Kizzie’s, and her tarot cards were magic.
I stopped long enough to pick it up and stare at it.
The Tower.
Danger. Destruction.
I’d spent enough time watching Kizzie do readings to know what the card meant.
“Fuck.” I slammed the door behind me and started the truck, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech of tires.
Two years. That’s how long it had been since Kizzie had saved me from dying after a Ferris wheel accident, using her cards to channel enough power to bring me back to life. I remembered those few moments of death, when I had been floating above my body, watching everything going on below.
Kizzie had drawn together tendrils of magic through her cards, then sent the power flowing into my body.
The sudden snap of myself back into what had been a broken vessel, but was now healed, left me dizzy and disoriented for several moments—but once again very much alive.
So yeah, I believed in the magic of Kizzie’s cards. In fact, I trusted these tarot cards almost as much as I trusted Kizzie herself.
But I had known she was magic from the moment she stepped into the bookstore where I worked weekends. She was beautiful, enticing, and I knew instantly, without a doubt, that we belonged together.
I basically ran away and joined the circus—or the traveling carnival, anyway—to be with her.
I was currently pissed at her, for sure. Her parents had insisted we wait until Kizzie turned eighteen to start sharing our traveling home. Kizzie’s decision to wait even longer than that hurt.
But I wasn’t so angry that I wouldn’t get over it—not as long as we ended up together.
She has to be okay. We belong together.
All of this played through my mind over and over as I raced back toward our last setup site.
The memories were interspersed with a prayer to whatever deity might be listening, a repetitive mantra. A plea for her survival.
Let her be okay. Please, God, please. I need her.
4. Kizzie
When the glowing eyes moved toward me, I broke into a jog, still heading for my own vehicle instead of turning back—because, really, where could I go?
And every time I think about it, I end up back in that horrific five minutes that went on forever in an eternity of agony.
It attacks from above.
If I can get around to the back, I think…but I don’t finish the thought, because the flaming, red-and-orange eyes are flying toward me, through the air. And even if I had time to finish the thought, I wouldn’t know how.
The bulk of the growling thing blocks out most of the moonlight for an instant, except for a single ray that shines off its bared fangs, sharp and menacing, terrifying even highlighted in soft, blue-white light.
My instinct is to cover my head with my arms and crouch down, low to the ground, making myself a smaller target. So when the beast hits me, with its claws out, it slices into my arms and back.
I try to scream, but it’s enormous—even bigger than I’d thought—and its bulk combines with the pain of its claws to knock the wind out of me. Still, even with my face in the dirt and stars dancing in my eyes, I try to drag myself along the ground.
If I can get under the van, maybe it won’t be able to reach me…
I almost make it, too—at least, that’s what the creature wants me to think.
I manage to get my torso underneath the vehicle, pull my head around so it’s behind a wheel, as if that will offer any real protection. But my legs are still behind me, still scrabbling to push me farther away from the monster.
Almost delicately, it pierces my jeans with a single claw, then digs into my skin and slides me back out into the open air. I finally catch my breath to scream, but it uses that huge paw to push my face into the dirt, so all that comes out is a muffled shout.
I’m coughing and sobbing, and when the creature hacks out a sound that’s almost like laughter, I realize it’s playing with me.
That’s when I begin to thrash in earnest, desperately trying to get away. But it flips me over onto my back, picking me up with its claws and tossing me back down onto the ground. I land with an enormous cracking sound, and suddenly I can’t move.
I can’t feel anything, either. Part of me recognizes what that means, but I push the knowledge away. For an instant, I can’t see anything but sky and stars above me.
Then the monster’s head moves back into my line of sight.
It’s a mountain lion, but bigger than any other I’ve ever seen, with a haunting intelligence lurking in its eyes. It looks … malevolent.
And its muzzle is coated with dark blood that covers its mouth.
My blood, I r
ealize.
I try to scream again, but now I can’t catch my breath enough to make any sound at all.
The huge cat stares deeply into my eyes as it raises one paw, then makes a single, swift swiping motion that rocks my unresponsive body. I hear the ripping of fabric and flesh, and the animal is holding his paw up for me to see, as if gauging my reaction.
I’m dying.
The realization comes as if from a distance.
The third time it swipes, I can hear the patter of blood drops hitting the dirt, like rain. Something else thumps against the ground, and the cat bats it away in irritation.
I catch a glimpse of my messenger bag as it bounces off the ground and bursts, sending tarot cards tumbling through the air.
A slight breeze flutters against my cheek, picking up and blowing hard enough to cause one of the cards to dance across the ground and land momentarily on my face.
The Star.
Granna’s voice echoes through my thoughts, reminding me of the card’s meaning.
Spirituality. Renewal.
I want to laugh at the irony, but I can’t. I can barely breathe at all.
As the Star card blows away again, I catch another glimpse of it, spinning as the wind plays with it.
Reversed.
Despair.
I’m pretty sure my vision is going now. Everything I can see—the card, the stars, the clouds scudding across the sky—it’s all rimmed in a dark purple glow. It’s beautiful.
Stars.
The wind picks the card up one last time, and it hovers over my face, right-side-up.
Renewal.
Then it flies away, into the purple-limned night.
And the creature that killed me once again hovers over me.
