by Ashley McLeo
“Thanks,” Selma said, inching away from the man whose power radiated off him like the sun. If he came anywhere near her, Selma’s brief anonymity in the supernatural world would certainly be a thing of the past.
Shefali nodded. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Selma. I hope to see you again soon.”
Selma ran her hand along the textured wall of the ballroom. It resembled tree bark, peppered with plastic bugs and knobs of faux wood and leaves that made her reminisce about the feel of driftwood, washed up on Menorca’s shores. Despite enjoying her new life immensely, an abundance of trees was one of the things she missed. Regularly interspersed between the forest foliage Selma admired, windows provided stunning views of the city so that for one night at least, one could feel a part of both the magical and real worlds.
She wove in and out of the fake trees, homes to the marionette faeries in their branches above. Couples darted through the manmade Faerie woods and onto the balcony, biting their lips and giggling. Feathered wings were being pressed against a wall as a centaur took one faerie’s mouth in his.
A thrill ran through Selma. The night felt big, full of possibility, like something monumental could happen. Like what, or maybe who, had drawn her to New York could appear just around the corner. Perhaps she would find her life partner tonight?
As if out of nowhere, or possibly by the magic of her thought, an attractive man, with a salt and pepper beard and a lion’s head perched atop his own, appeared before her.
“I see I’ve come across a faerie princess wandering all alone.” The man’s deep baritone rumbled in his chest.
“Faerie queen, actually,” Selma replied, lowering her lashes beneath the elaborate floral headpiece she wore.
“My apologies your majesty.” The man bowed. “Would you like an escort through the woods?”
Selma smirked at the man’s continued formalities, nodded, and fell into step with the stranger.
“What may I call you, dear sir?”
“Rex Worthington,” the man replied. “And what shall I call you, my Queen?”
“Selma de Avila.” Selma’s name rolled off her tongue as it always did, with confidence. Despite wanting to leave Menorca and start a new life in New York City Selma still had pride when it came to her family name.
“A name almost as lovely as the woman who bears it. If I had to guess I’d say your family hails from Spain? The Southern part?”
“Not quite, however, you did get the Spanish part right. I’m from Menorca, an island in the Mediterranean.”
“It was worth an ignorant guess to hear you speak more,” Rex admitted with a slight boyish blush that belied the salt and pepper of his stubble.
“Where are you from?” Selma asked, charmed.
They wove in and out of the trees, making small talk and eventually getting down to what Selma considered more serious topics, like opinions on the best tapas bar in the city and where their dream vacation would be. Glancing up at the elaborate clock that hung over the staircase, Selma was disappointed to see her hour was up. She should probably dash across the room to meet Abby and Kayla to update them, but she was having fun with Rex. And judging by the way he’d closed the space between them, it was clear he was enjoying her company, too. Finally, she couldn't leave her friends waiting any longer. She sighed, “I’m sorry to interrupt our conversation but I must go meet up with my girlfriends to let them know I’m OK. You understand how it is, right? Single girls must watch out for each other.”
Rex’s blue eyes twinkled. “I don’t mind at all. And feel free to dismiss me if this comes off as presumptuous, but might I suggest this could be the perfect time for you to tell your friends you’re leaving to get tapas?”
Selma pursed her lips coyly. “It sounds like a subject is telling his queen what to do?”
“Only if she wants to.”
She paused. Did she want to? He was the only person besides Shefali, Abby, and Kayla she’d talked to all night. She’d done no networking which the ball was prime for. Something told her Rex wasn’t her Mr. Right, but something else, a yearning for male companionship that she’d deprived herself of for years, made her not care. Rex was fun and kind and even if they didn’t see each other again after tonight Selma still found herself wanting to spend time with him.
“I would like that,” she answered finally. “Wait here. I’ll tell them I’m leaving so they don’t need to worry.”
Selma left Rex’s side, winding her way through the trees and glancing back only once, to see if he was still watching her.
He was.
Tangled Branched and Paths
Selma had wandered deeper into the enchanted forest than she’d expected. She bit her lip, sincerely hoping Kayla, or better yet, Abby, was running late too. Then she wouldn’t have to hear Abby complain about tardiness. Following the path less populated, Selma wound through the forest toward the front of the ballroom where the string quartet played. She was rounding the final patch of trees before she would have to cut across the slim strip of the empty dance floor to Kayla’s domain when suddenly a figure materialized in front of her.
Selma gasped as her eyes locked with the most captivating man she’d ever seen. He was well over six feet tall with perfectly white teeth and piercing, storm-gray eyes. And while Selma would have happily stared at him all day, she was quickly becoming aware of something cold and wet chilling her skin. Tearing her eyes from the man, she looked down to find a stain smeared across the front of her dress and the man’s glass, hanging limply in his hand, empty. Drops of red wine covered the floor between them. Her mouth closed and lips flattened.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Hell, look what I’ve done. I’ve ruined your dress.”
The world flipped again. Where there was a brief annoyance, now, only arousal existed. Selma’s skin tingled at the man’s voice, pure bliss in a room full of chatter.
“Please, there’s no reason to be sorry,” Selma assured him. “Look, the silk is already drying. I’m sure I can get the stain out. I—” She snapped her mouth shut when suddenly, his eyes glazed over. Hormones, born of siren magic, were slipping through her lips. Her powers had acted on instinct, without her even noticing it, sensing within Selma her overwhelming desire to have this man.
But I’ve always been in perfect control of my magic.
“You certainly came around that corner fast, didn’t you? It’s her fault too, Andrew.” Another voice, feminine and cold cut through the moment, slashing Selma’s desire. From nowhere, a woman placed her hand on the man’s shoulder—a left hand adorned with giant diamonds.
Selma glanced down at the man’s hand and the band glinting there. She took a step back.
The man, Andrew, turned to the woman behind him, allowing Selma to glimpse her for the first time. She was as tall as Andrew, honey blonde, with perfect skin, and blue eyes that shone like aquamarine stones.
“Really, Vivienne?” Andrew admonished. “I ruined her dress. Etiquette dictates I buy the lady a drink to apologize while I get the number of her dry cleaner.”
Vivienne sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you know we’re in a hurry. The Romney’s are waiting for us in their car. I’ll tell them to go ahead, and we’ll catch a cab. Hurry and fix your wrongs.”
“Great idea,” Andrew turned back to Selma. “What do you say I show you to the VIP bar and get your dry cleaner’s information? I’ll have my assistant call in the morning and arrange for your dress to be picked up and cleaned. If they can’t get it out, I’ll replace it. Meet us there, Vivienne?”
Vivienne nodded and strode off, so annoyed by her husband’s kindness she hadn’t noticed that he’d been leaning ever-closer to Selma.
Selma inched back from Andrew unsure how to reverse the damage she’d done, oblivious to how she’d even done it. Her thoughts were still flailing when suddenly, he placed his hand on Selma’s back. The tingles running through her, from the tips of her fingers to her pelvic region, were unlike any sensat
ion she’d ever experienced. Like a puppet, Selma allowed herself to be led through the trees and across the dance floor. Once more, she glanced at Andrew's face and sucked in a deep breath.
Free of Vivienne’s stare, Selma allowed herself to take in Andrew's masculine square jawline, cut cheekbones, and chocolate brown, wavy hair. An image of herself and Andrew strolling down a bustling New York City sidewalk hand-in-hand materialized in her mind.
She blinked and shook her head. Dios mio. What am I thinking? He's married!
But once again her body betrayed her. Her magic revved to life, taking over in a way she'd never experienced. Selma commanded her power to stop, but it was too late. Estrogen and testosterone had already pummeled the barrier of her skin and leapt into the air.
Andrew responded, his hand moving to Selma’s low back.
There was a pleasurable flutter in Selma's stomach but she squashed it and pulled away from Andrew. They were within sight of the bar now. She could see Abby and Kayla waiting; Kayla beaming at anyone who passed by, while Abby’s lips were puckered in annoyance. As if sensing Selma’s gaze Abby’s eyes shifted and locked with Selma’s. Her friend’s green eyes widened noticeably and Abby turned, grabbed Kayla's hand, and whispered something in her ear. Selma had seen that reaction from Abby before.
Abby recognizes him. Which means he’s a big shot.
They passed a small group of women and Selma noticed the ladies taking her in, their eyes flashing back and forth from Andrew to Selma. A weight she hadn’t been aware of before crushed down upon her, and Selma lifted her chin to gaze into the crowds. It wasn’t just that group, dozens of people were watching her, them.
“Don't worry,” Andrew spoke like a man used to being stared at. "They're all looking at me. You clearly aren't my wife." He frowned and furrowed his brows. “And while I know that's not a great thing, I find myself not caring. I don't even know your name, but I want to be around you.” He stopped walking for the first time and Selma mimicked him.
“What’s your name?”
“Selma de Avila.”
Andrew exhaled. “I wish I hadn’t known that. It sounds exotic, which only makes me more attracted to you.”
Selma bit her lip.
Andrew reached out to cup the small of her back again, but this time he caught himself and retracted his arm. “And that lip biting doesn't help either."
Selma shoved down a groan as his words awakened a long-dormant primal urge. One she had ignored for years—far too long, especially for a siren. An urge her magic was demanding she satisfy. “Don't we have a drink to be getting?" She squeaked and promptly turned around so she wouldn’t have to look at Andrew any longer. She sensed him following her as Selma rushed through the crowd of people. She was dying to reach Kayla and Abby, hoping they would help get her out of this jam. Or at least temper the stirring of magic within her.
I didn’t mean to enchant a married man. I only wanted to—dios mio!
She’d forgotten all about Rex waiting on the other side of the ballroom.
“Hi, Selma,” Abby sang in a cheery voice as she and Kayla descended on Selma like vultures. “I see you met someone?”
“This is Andrew. We collided into each other. He spilled his drink on me.” Selma paused as Abby, who knew how much the dress had cost, gasped. “Like a true gentleman, Andrew offered to buy me a drink while I gave him my cleaners information.” She kept her voice light and glanced at Andrew who seemed mollified by Abby and Kayla’s presence. Perhaps if she could keep him distracted with other people her magic would wear off?
“The truth is, I don't have a cleaner yet. Could you give him your cleaner’s number?”
Abby jumped on it. Planting herself between Andrew and Selma in an instant.
Selma sighed with relief as Andrew’s concentration shifted and her power dimmed in response.
They were just receiving their drinks when two more men joined. Abby and Kayla turned toward the newcomers, chatting easily as if they were continuing a previous conversation. Selma sensed the second Andrew’s attention returned to her and her magic responded once more, flaring inside her.
Ay, if only he would have left a minute sooner.
“Thank you for the drink. And for offering to clean my dress,” Selma said gesturing to the marred spot of brown silk, slightly darker than the rest of her dress. Once again, unexpectedly, magic seeped from her with every word and she forced herself not to cringe.
“I don’t know what it is about you. Every time you speak I want to touch you,” Andrew answered as though he hadn’t heard her. He extended a hand to graze a wayward strand of Selma’s hair and tuck it behind her ear. “It’s like you’ve put a spell on me.”
We are not going to kiss right now . . . or ever! He has a wife! But his eyes . . . oh dios mio he’s coming closer.
“Andrew, there you are.”
Andrew pulled back as a high, strained voice broke the tension between them.
There stood Vivienne, only feet away, glaring at the pair of them. “I looked all over the VIP bar for you. You didn’t make it up there.” She shot a glance at Selma. “Probably for the better with a stain like that.”
Selma’s eyes narrowed. It was clear from her tone, Vivienne was not referring to the dark stain on Selma’s dress.
Andrew gaped. “Sorry, Vivienne. Her friends were here, so we joined them.”
“Whatever. Let’s go. The Romney’s opted to wait for us.” Vivienne grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him into the crowd.
Selma watched them go, watched Andrew gaze back at her, and caught Vivienne’s final glare as they disappeared into the throng of the rich and famous.
Tribute for the Faerie Queen
“I cannot believe Andrew Van de Berg was flirting with you!” Abby sidled up to Selma the instant Andrew and Vivienne were out of sight. “Girl, you better hope his wife doesn’t come after you. I’ve heard stories about her, Vivienne can be super nasty.”
Judging by the glare she’d just received, Selma didn’t doubt that. And the worst part was she couldn’t even defend herself. While she hadn’t intentionally seduced Andrew, she hadn’t told him to stop either. Or stopped herself.
Neither of them had stood a chance; not when her magic took them by surprise like it had. Selma recalled the way Andrew’s eyes had danced over her face, down her chest, all the way to her feet, absorbing her as if she were his life’s water.
“It was nothing,” Selma said, hoping to put an end to the rumors before they started. “Like I said he spilled his drink on me and wanted to pay for the damages. It was nice.”
“Yeah, sure. Nice. Whatever. You know he’s like the richest man in this room, right? Not to mention probably the hottest. I mean, come on Selma! He’s taken, but damn girl, you did good!”
If only she knew what I could really do.
Selma had the ability to enchant every man in the room, no matter their social status, age, or even sexual preference. Probably some of the women as well, depending on their specific body chemistry.
“That’s all good and fun, but as you said, he’s taken. I do, however, have someone waiting for me. I told him I’d return after I checked in with you, so I should head back now.”
“What?!” Kayla, who’d appeared without Selma noticing, cried. “Tell me all your secrets!”
“Another night?” Selma teased Kayla, whose head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “For now I must find Rex. And so you ladies know, I won’t be meeting back up with you.”
But she didn’t leave with Rex that night.
Instead, men rushed Selma the second she’d stepped away from her friends. Men attracted to her, all because Andrew Van de Berg had been. By the time she’d made it to where Rex had been, he’d already left.
It’s for the best, Selma thought, flipping her pen in her fingers as she sat in her cubicle the next morning. If my run in with Andrew made anything clear, it’s that Rex is not my one. Why was I willing to settle for anything less?
Selma tilted her head. “Wait—you read?” She teased Abby, who in the few months they’d known each other Selma had never seen read so much as a pamphlet, let alone the paper.
Wrinkles formed on Abby’s face as she scrunched up her nose. “Nah, too boring, but I saw this on the sidewalk and just had to pick it up.” She slammed the newspaper onto the desk.
There, on the front page, was a photo of Selma at the ball. She looked charming in her designer dress and headpiece, and clearly Andrew Van de Berg thought so too, as he stood by her side, a smitten expression on his handsome face.
“Dios mio,” Selma moaned. “Did you read it? What does it say?”
“A bunch of drivel about the ball but the photo of you has a side note. It describes you as the unknown belle of the ball who enchanted many men.” She pressed her finger onto Andrew’s face. “No mention of Vivienne coming to drag him away, but then again, the paper doesn’t want a lawsuit on their hands.”
Selma bit her lip.
“Why are you so worried? This is amazing! You saw what happened after Andrew left. Those men all wanted to know why he found you interesting. Like vultures picking up his scraps. In fact—”
A delivery man weighed down by a box holding three vases full of flowers appeared at the entrance to Selma’s cubicle.
“Excuse me ladies? Is this the desk of Selma Faerie Queen of The Faerie Fall Ball?” The man’s eyebrows drew together as he read the notecard taped on the side of the box he carried.
Selma’s eyes widened, taking in the vases of roses, peonies, and lilies inside the box.
“Yes! Put them here,” Abby said, signing for them without hesitation.
