Wicked Sexy: Wicked ³, Book 1

by R. G. Alexander

  The only thing she wasn’t looking forward to was being Tyghe’s pretend love interest for the next week. She could hardly imagine it. Okay, that was a lie. She didn’t want to imagine it, but since the idea had been presented it was practically all she could think about.

  He was a jerk, but he was a sexy jerk. Always had been. And he knew it too, the arrogant ass. Harrison was always telling her one wild story or another, usually revolving around Tyghe and his kinky predilections. He’d already been reprimanded twice by the Magian law for using his magic in public, and, according to his sister, sex had usually been involved.

  Sex with Tyghe in public. She could never be so bold, so brazen. Her skin heated as she closed her eyes, instantly envisioning the stormy-eyed Magian pressing her against a wall and taking her as a crowd of people looked on. He wanted them to look, to know how crazy she made him. Wanted them to know she was his.

  “Don’t be nervous, Cal. I promise I know what I’m doing.”

  Callie’s eyes popped open and she blushed, shrugging. “I know you do, Harry. I trust you not to turn me into a hamster…again.”

  “Never gonna let me forget that are you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Jenner smiled, coming to stand on the other side of the bed. “The spirits blessed the two of you when they brought you to each other. It was fate. The bonds of friendship are more powerful than any magic you could name.” She sniffled, and the two younger women rolled their eyes, pretending they weren’t moved by their gentle companion’s words. “I just think it’s wonderful that you’ve agreed to do this, Calliope. That it’s finally happening. I only wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself.”

  “What do you mean finally hap—?”

  “Please—” Callie reached out to shake Jenner’s arm playfully, interrupting Harrison’s startled question, “—don’t call me that. I’ll never understand why the woman who brought me to the home had apparently been so adamant about my name. Calliope? That’s just adding insult to injury. ‘Here, we don’t want you, but we want to give you a name to ensure you get picked on by the other children.’” She sighed dramatically, knowing Harrison would smile.

  “Calliope was the muse of epic poetry. The hero’s odyssey. It’s a lovely name.” Jenner sounded miffed on behalf of the monstrosity of a name.

  Harrison chuckled at Jenner, but Callie heard an unusual note in her voice. “Yes, well, you can’t be trusted. You thought all our names were wonderful. I don’t believe a woman should be allowed to name her children until she’s recovered from childbirth. Especially not my mother.”

  Jenner harrumphed before resting her hand on Callie’s shoulder. “She knew exactly what she was doing. She named you after a wonderful young Magian. A man who died before his time, and one of her closest childhood friends. And I believe I’ve kept enough of your secrets, Harrison Jennera Abbott, for you to trust me with your life. It should be easy. I did help bring you into it.” She pursed her lips. “Now it’s time. We should do this soon so she has a chance to recuperate before tomorrow’s salon and fitting appointments.”

  “Salon? Fitting?” Callie’s voice squeaked. The idea of that was far more terrifying than a crazy glamour spell. Enough to distract her from the palpable tension in the air, as well as the origins of Harrison’s name.

  Harrison smirked. “Uh huh. Did I forget to mention that? It’s part of the preparation. What every Magian female about to participate at Triune does. That means the four victims will have gone to the same places we’re going, gossiped with the same old biddies, gotten fitted for the, ah, appropriate attire.”

  “Oh lord. Can I change my mind?” Callie blinked in surprise when her friend gripped her chin between her long, elegant fingers.

  Harrison’s face was somber, worried. “Yes, Cal. But if you’re going to, you need to do it now. Once we start you’ll be on everybody’s radar. The Magian world will sense your presence, sense your magic, real or not. Not only that, this spell is glamour mixed with a kind of soul calling that Jenner has been teaching me for the last few years. Every being has a little magic inside them—it’s just a matter of pulling it out and intertwining the truth with the illusion.”

  Callie smiled. “Sounds complicated. Don’t think you can pull it off, Harry? Don’t think you can turn me into a real, live witch?”

  Harrison smiled, recognizing the challenge for the answer it was. “Oh I can do it, all right. With Jenner’s guidance, I’m fairly certain it will be a perfect success. I’m just not sure what a Cal with magic will be like. You’re already impossible now.”

  “Bring it on, Glenda.”

  “Zip it, or I’ll slip and turn you into a pair of Tyghe’s gym socks.”

  ”Consider it zipped.” Callie let Jenner lay her down on the silken, ruby comforter, watching Harrison set a bag of herbs, a crystal and some kind of liquid with paint brush beside it on the bed.

  This must be a big spell. Harrison had told her once that, though magic was present in every Magian, there were some spells that needed a little extra encouragement. A potion, a ritual, a chant to bring the energy to the surface—to focus the power.

  She could only imagine.

  Jenner began to mutter rhythmically under her breath, and Callie lowered her lids until she could watch them both through her lashes. She tensed a little as Harrison slid the towel down to her hips, but these women knew her as well as they knew themselves. She breathed out, relaxing against the soft mattress.

  Harrison set the small quartz below her belly button, cupping her hands over it and closing eyes that were a darker grey than Tyghe’s, but just as stormy.

  Callie gasped and felt the tiny hairs on her arms rise as an electric blue light began to flicker between Harrison’s fingers. It was riveting. Hypnotic, the way the arcing light circled her hand like a living thing, growing before her eyes until it was all she could see.

  She felt her stomach warm, a pulsing sensation against her flesh where the crystal was resting. When she glanced down she realized it was glowing, mimicking Harrison’s energy. It felt as though liquid heat was being absorbed into her skin, deep inside her.

  Jenner’s chant grew louder, and Callie could see her lit with a sunshine yellow energy, joyous, powerful—so big for her dainty frame. She closed her eyes, but she could still see them both as Harrison reached for the small paintbrush, dipping it in the soothingly scented oil and painting it onto Callie’s skin. Her neck. Behind her ears. Around her nipples.

  It was a sensual feeling. The wet bristles scraping, feather light against her skin. Like a man’s stubble. Once more the image of Tyghe pressing her against an outside wall sprang to mind. Only this time, Callie wasn’t embarrassed. This time she took him with as much ferocity and need as he was taking her. She didn’t care about the crowd. Didn’t care about losing control. She reveled in it. Wanted it. Wanted to claim him.

  Callie was so lost in the fantasy that the flash of blue-green energy took her by surprise, an electric shock whipping through her system and arching her off the bed.

  Something was inside her, reacting to Harrison and Jenner’s energy, reaching for it. Her spine was buzzing, bones vibrating almost painfully. Had something gone wrong? Was it working?

  As if from far away she could hear Harrison’s gasp and Jenner’s serene response. “There now. You did a good job, dear.”

  “I can’t believe it. All this time.”

  Callie tried to talk. What can’t you believe, Harrison? All this time what? But she felt separated from her body, floating above the bed.

  Jenner spoke once more. “I think it might be best to keep this to ourselves for a spell. Your family may not react well. Especially your brothers.”

  “My broth—oh hell, don’t tell me, Jenner. I don’t think I want to know. We’ll keep quiet. For now. But you and I need to have a private chat. Soon. And Callie—”

  “Will be fine. Let’s let her rest now, shall we?”
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  Deserves to know what? Am I dying? It feels a little like I’m dying. Callie was frantically trying to regain control of her body, her vocal chords, but the blue-green energy surrounded her. It began to combine with a lovely violet that calmed her, soothed her. She should sleep. She needed to sleep. Needed to dream.

  At least she wasn’t a hamster this time.

  Chapter Two

  “So then he said, ‘Charity, would you rather the dragon sleep in the bed?’”

  Callie chuckled along with the others at the hairdresser’s punch line. Her laughter was more hysterical relief than reaction to the woman’s tale of woe at her Magian mates and their unusual pets.

  She was doing it. Fooling them. No one had questioned the story Harrison had devised, that Callie was a distant cousin from an obscure branch of the Abbott family. Harrison, being the powerful, benevolent wunderkind that she was, had decided to take her under her wing, and introduce her to the eligible Magian males of Boston. Yes, the women in the chairs beside her were eyeing her up and down as potential competition, but none of them knew she wasn’t a witch. Wasn’t magical.

  She wasn’t even sure anymore. When she’d wakened yesterday, she’d felt nauseous, disoriented. Different. Jenner had fed her a light broth and cooed over her, taking care of her as she always had. She’d told Callie that she would have to take it slow, until they discovered what kind of power the spell had drawn out of her. Harrison had done her best to make it innocuous, she’d said, something she couldn’t accidentally injure herself with. Only time would tell.

  Both of the women had been extremely satisfied, though Harrison seemed less and less sure of their plan as the hours passed. But even she agreed, her senses were telling her Callie was Magian. Like them. Though they knew differently, it was still strong enough that it would fool everyone who mattered. Including, Callie hoped, the one they were searching for.

  There was something on the edge of her memory, something she’d wanted to ask her about what happened during the spell, but for the life of her Callie couldn’t remember what it was.

  Now she was sitting in an exquisitely beautiful day spa, getting her hair done by a Magian stylist. The only problem was, this place shouldn’t exist. Yesterday when she’d passed this building it had been abandoned, boarded up. Jenner had told her the Magian world worked a little differently than hers. That, in order for them to thrive and co-exist with humans, they’d had to make a few minor dimensional adjustments.

  This didn’t seem minor. She didn’t think anything with the word dimensional in it could be. To Callie it was all so…so…wonderful. Right out of a dream or a movie. A large spa filled with gold and marble, bustling with women in various stages of undress, some in facial masks, some in wraps that glistened with magical light. Her fellow human beings were walking and driving by, none of them knowing the wonders that were a sprinkling of fairy dust away. But this was no fairytale. It was real. She was here. And Charity, the chatty hairdresser, was asking her a question. “What?”

  Charity wrinkled her nose as she studied Callie’s long, dirty-blonde hair. “I was just wondering where you’d had your hair done before today. Did your family go to those human chop shops? I know some Magians aspire to fit in, but there are standards that no one should ever have to drop below.” She shook her head sadly. “These ends are just abysmal, and you need a condition spell in the worst way.”

  Callie blushed, ducking her chin in embarrassment. Harrison, her own dark locks wrapped in a towel that was literally massaging her head as Callie looked on, stomped over to glare at the woman. “My cousin lost her mother when she was young. She never had anyone to show her how to pamper herself.” She looked Charity up and down. “I brought her here because I heard you were the best, that a Magian left this place feeling like a queen. Was it all hype? A false advertising enchantment?”

  Charity paled and swallowed as she studied Harrison Abbott. Callie could see the hairdresser’s mental wheels spinning. The Abbott family was a prestigious one. She did not want to risk her job, her reputation, by pissing them off.

  The woman shook her head. “No, no. I only meant…well, she is naturally beautiful, of that there is no doubt. Truly, it would hardly take much work on my part to make her the belle of the Triune.” She began to run her fingers through Callie’s hair again. “Yes. This can be fixed. A shimmer rinse, a snip here and there. You’ll hardly recognize yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Harrison winked at Callie before strolling leisurely back to the table where she’d been getting a manicure. A young woman shifting uncomfortably beside her drew her attention.

  Callie had never seen a Magian biting her nails before. The telling tickle up her spine was going crazy. As Charity began to work in industrious silence, Callie made eye contact. “You okay?”

  The girl’s hazel eyes widened, and she glanced around quickly to see if her mother, talking to a group of older women in the corner, had heard the question. When it became obvious she hadn’t, her neighbor responded in hushed, intimidated tones. “F-fine. You’re Harrison Abbott’s cousin?”

  “Something like third cousin twice removed on my mother’s side, but yes.” She saw the girl’s lip twitch at her attempt at humor, and smiled. “My name is Callie, what’s yours?”

  “Veronica. My friends call me Ronnie.” She bit her thumbnail anxiously, watching Charity’s efficient movements before connecting with Callie’s gaze once more. “You don’t seem nervous about next week.”

  “I don’t? Well, I am a little. I feel like a piece of meat about to be put on display.” Callie saw the relief in Ronnie’s eyes, and knew she’d found the right opening. “You too, huh?”

  “Yes.” Her voice lowered. “I don’t know why Mama is insisting. Father thought I could wait one or two of the Triune’s out, because of what’s happened.”

  “What’s happened?” Callie drew her brows together to form a look of confusion. The less she seemed to know the better. She was from out of town after all.

  Ronnie leaned forward. “You mean no one told you?”

  Charity was slowing her movements behind her, and Callie knew she was listening intently to their conversation. Apparently her new Magian hairdresser was no different from the girl at her usual chop shop in that respect. Perfect. “Told me what, Ronnie?”

  “Four Magian women have been attacked at Triune in the last few weeks. Most were just roughed up, a little shaken, but the last one was beaten fairly badly. Next week is the last time the ritual will happen until the solstice. Nobody knows how or why it has been happening, but I’m afraid one of us may be next.”

  Charity made a soothing noise as she bent down and whispered conspiratorially. “Miss Ronnie, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. From what I heard… Each of those poor girls has a particular type of magic, and it’s fairly rare. I’m just surprised there have been so many coming out in one season.”

  Callie turned her head and met Charity’s knowing gaze. “What kind of magic?”

  Charity bit her lip as she considered her client. “The power to compel. None of them had the same type of course. Some had mental, some physical, but it is distinctive and rare, as I said. I know only a handful of Magians who have any aspect of compelling in their genetic makeup. Most of them are men, and none of them are in this room. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to mix up complicated and time consuming spells to recreate weak, temporary versions of the power.” The hairdresser sighed. “Trust me, I have to re-enchant my styling scissors once a week.”

  Callie looked over to Ronnie, now beaming in relief. “You look like you feel better. You don’t have that kind of magic I take it?”

  The smiling girl shook her head, holding out her hands until a glowing lime green energy sparked in her palms. The vase of flowers on the hairdresser’s counter brightened, blooms bursting to life before their eyes. Callie gasped.

  Ronnie shrugged, misinterpreting the sound. “I know. Not that amazing. I’m just a grower
by nature, like my father. Before this started, Mama was lamenting the fact that I had the misfortune to be of age for the Triune at the same time as…” she looked over at the preoccupied Harrison, blushing, “…so many powerful Magians. But now I’m just glad I’m not a part of this curse or whatever it is.”

  It wasn’t a curse. It was a crime spree. Charity and Veronica had just given her a vital piece of the puzzle. A clue she couldn't believe the Magian law had missed. Unless they had been trying to keep that information to themselves. But why?

  She found herself wishing Tucker was here. He was a cop, like her. He lived, ate and slept Magian law. He would find out why they’d been shuffling their feet. Why they were allowing innocent young women to go into Triune without the information that could protect them. Surely Tucker didn’t know about it. If he did he would be here, sitting on his sister if he had to, to stop her from going.

  What would he think of Callie’s disguise? Her actions? Would he be disappointed that she had gotten herself involved, or would he admire her ingenuity? Why did she still care so much? He wasn’t here.

  Tyghe was.

  That was another mystery in and of itself. In her experience, Tyghe rarely did anything without a reason. Usually self-motivated. Other than having the opportunity to play hero to his sister, and be a pain in Callie’s ass, she couldn’t see his angle.

  Yet.

  She wanted to go back to the pampering massage portion of her spa day. Why had Harrison taken her from those heavenly hands and into this torture chamber? She came out of the changing room, trying to take a breath in the skin tight cat-suit that was, according to her witchy pal, all the rage for the modern, fashion-conscious Magian. Or prostitutes.