This Soul Magic

by Michele Hauf

  I shook my head. “Not my business.”

  And yet, more and more I felt as though I were holding something to my heart that might be better off set free. The old adage about if you loved something then you should set it free tweaked at my conscience.

  I closed my eyes. “I can’t. He’s my soul mate.”

  And while the universe might be sneaky, it was also never wrong. Reichardt was in my life because he belonged in it. I wasn’t prepared to believe anything else.

  I closed his front door quietly and pressed a palm to the wood, releasing a tendril of protective magic and whispering a spell that would bless all those who crossed the threshold.

  Five

  Orange juice was the work of the Devil Himself. I finished off the glass Libby handed me, then two minutes later raced to the bathroom. I’d never felt so awful. My head buzzed like bees had fashioned a hive inside my skull. Even Libby’s cheery singing bored a hole through my cranium in search of the brain crevices.

  I had to get back my immortality. Then I’d never have to face the toilet bowl like this again. Tonight, I intended to return to FaeryTown and ransom my soul to the faery.

  “I’ve made you special cookies this morning,” Libby called from the bathroom doorway.

  Perched before the toilet, I muttered, “No food. Please.”

  “They’re hangover cookies,” she said. “My regular chocolate-chip recipe with a touch of magic to take the hurt away and make you feel better. Promise. I’ll leave them in here.” She set the plate on the bedroom vanity and left me to my misery.

  From the bathroom doorway I spied the plate, which sat beside the blue feather. That feather was my key to immortality.

  But more so? Just imagining the taste of Libby’s delicious treats melting on my tongue made my mouth water. I turned and crawled into the bedroom.

  Must. Get. Cookie.

  * * *

  Transprojectionary dislocation was a mouthful to say and an even bigger spell to accomplish correctly. It sounded simple enough, moving an object through the air with only the power of one’s mind, but it took intense concentration, and I was slightly ADD so concentration was not my forte.

  Sadly, we rock stars couldn’t be masters of everything.

  Vika’s boyfriend made it look easy. CJ could move vehicles or animals through the air. He had once sent a train car flying through a brick wall. But he’d been practicing dark magic for over a century.

  I garnered but two and a half decades to my magical arsenal, so the fact that a grain of salt floated in the air above Reichardt’s new kitchen table now gave me a giddy thrill. I squealed and the salt crystal dropped.

  “I did it!”

  “That was amazing.”

  I spun to find myself in Reichardt’s arms. He’d showered and smelled like bay rum soap—and was standing straight—which said a lot for my hangover cookies.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I was a fool last night. Those cookies are magic.”

  “That’s the point. And what do we think of whiskey?”

  “Devil’s brew. Good stuff, but I don’t like the way it attacked my better senses. So are you practicing magic?”

  “Yes, trying to master moving objects around with my mind.”

  “Is that something I used to be able to do?”

  “Yes, but don’t let it get you down. You’ll learn so many new skills, all your old tricks will seem boring by comparison.”

  “Yes, I imagine scrubbing the tub until it gleams ranks right up there with startling skills.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” I bracketed his face with my hands and he winced so I moved them away from the bruise CJ had rightfully left there. “You’re so down on yourself. What can I do to make it better?”

  “You have already cured me of a hangover.”

  “Do you feel like breakfast now?”

  “Maybe in a bit. A kiss wouldn’t be unwarranted.”

  I kissed him and tasted the mint toothpaste on his tongue. And there, the traces of chocolate and vanilla I’d put in the cookies. His mouth was a garden of deliciousness.

  “So while imbibing the wicked wiles of whiskey did you happen to learn anything useful from CJ?”

  “Man stuff,” he said with a wink. “He lent me some of his tools, which I forgot because I was—ahem. But I should be able to fix the leaky faucet at your place now.”

  “Awesome! Vika usually took care of the household repairs. I miss having her around. The house is so big without her in it.”

  “You and your sister are very close. I will never know what it’s like to have family.”

  “You’ve a new family now, lover boy.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Oh, you’re getting pouty again. I know it’s going to be hard, and I think you have to go through a grief stage.”

  “Isn’t grief for losing people?”

  “It is, but you’ve lost a whole life.”

  “CJ made it sound as if I won’t be missing much.”

  “I don’t think you will, but I didn’t know you for the two thousand years you lived.”

  Two thousand years was a long time. Surely, he had done things, explored the world and...women? Why did the man have cat food? And that Jewish badge was a curiosity.

  Reichardt nodded and tapped the grains of salt on the table. “Have you always been this way? A witch?”

  “I was born a witch. All three of the St. Charles sisters are natural witches. Vika’s the most powerful, and Eternitie is still out adventuring in some third-world nation, learning new magics. I can’t wait for you to meet her and her girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Yes, she called last week to tell us about Merrily, her significant other. It’s so crazy because Merrily is CJ and TJ’s sister! We’re keeping it all in the family.”

  “So they are both women and they are...a couple?”

  “Yes, they’re called lesbians, and we humans tend to fall in love regardless of sex.”

  “I like that. But I think I prefer women. Especially the curvy kind.” He cupped my breast and bent to kiss me there. Mmm, baby. “I know what to do now, when things get hard.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’m going to enjoy learning about sex with you, Libby. But CJ said to go slow. The emotion has to be there, as well. I’m not sure what love really means.”

  “You and all the rest of us. Love is sort of ineffable. And I don’t mind taking things slow.” Mostly.

  I trailed my fingers down his chest, pausing at the waist of his jeans. My big manly man sucked in a breath as a finger strayed beneath his shirt to tickle across his belly where the dark hairs curled. I’d yet to get a good look at those incredible abs. Just looking could be considered slow, couldn’t it?

  “Vika is stopping by my place in a bit. Why don’t I give her a call and remind her to bring along your tools?”

  “Yes, I want to start doing man things.” He growled at my ear, then nipped the lobe. “What would you think about me if I could get back my immortality and all the powers I once had?”

  “I’m...not sure. I don’t think that’s possible. Though you do flicker.”

  “I flicker?” He tilted his head in wonder.

  “It’s your aura. I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t want to confuse you. It’s bright yet it flickers.”

  “Like my batteries are running low?” he asked.

  “Interesting way to put it. Do you feel as if you are growing weak? Why would you even want to have back immortality?”

  “So I can take care of you, be the man.”

  “You already are a big sexy hunk of man.”

  “Yet sometimes you make me feel as though I am not. That I am a child.”

  “I didn’t—” Ah, the incident with Hester. “I should have never spoken to you like that. I’m a bit of a—”

  “Fierce woman,” he offered. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. I will have to learn to adjust to your overbearing mann
er.”

  I cringed at that statement. I didn’t want to be that for him. I just wanted...him.

  “But, Libby, I feel as though something is missing in my life.”

  “Like a whole freaking history? And you want it back? Oh, I should have never told you about being an angel. Then you wouldn’t be so conflicted now.”

  “That would have been a lie to not tell me.”

  “I know, but I feel protective of you.”

  “You shouldn’t be. The man is the one who protects the woman, and I would do anything to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need protecting, but I like that you feel that way. Hester Powler bothers me. What did she say to you the other day in the rain?”

  “That I was handsome and all the women thought so, too.”

  “I see.” I slid my eyes down his chest. Yes, any woman would want to get her hands on that. Again, and again...I shook my head to obliterate the lusty images that thought conjured. “That short little woman is after my man. Do you think she’s attractive?”

  “The stout one? Not at all. But...”

  “But?”

  “All those other women she mentioned...”

  “I see.” Apparently he had been thinking about other women a lot if we were actually having this conversation. I stood and gathered my purse and walked to the door, leaving him sitting there in a towel. “I should be going.”

  “Let me get dressed. I want to come along and fix the pipe.”

  I shrugged. “If you need to.”

  A dismissive reply, but I couldn’t stop thinking about other women wanting Reichardt. I had to stake my claim or lose him.

  But in doing so would I only push him away?

  * * *

  It really was as easy as taking a wrench to the pipe and giving it a twist. I gripped the heavy tool in a triumphant thrust toward the ceiling. A manly grunt felt appropriate.

  Now to claim the spoils of my accomplishment.

  Libby stood inside the big walk-in closet, humming as she sorted over the racks of shoes. I had no earthly idea why one woman could need so many pairs. She only had two feet. Though I liked how they made her legs look, and they lifted her up to my chin level, so I didn’t have to lean down so far to kiss her.

  Thinking of kisses...

  I grabbed her from behind, and she squealed as I turned her against the wall, smashing a fake fur coat between her and the wall. I kissed her soundly. Her mouth opened to mine and I shivered as our soft, wet tongues touched. She slid a leg up along my thigh and hooked her heeled foot behind my knee. Man, I was sensitive back there and her aggression inspired my desires. I leaned into her, resting against her generous breasts.

  “I fixed the faucet.”

  “I heard your grunt of triumph. You know that deserves a reward. You want a cookie?”

  “Nope.” I kissed her along the neck, a place I had learned made her squirm with pleasure. She moaned languorously as I touched her there, and then there. “Try something else.”

  “A nice hearty supper?”

  “I do enjoy your cuisine, but I’m not hungry right now.”

  “Hmm...” Her big green eyes glittered. She could command me with a flutter of her thick lashes. And she was making things very hard.

  I pressed my groin against her hip. “I won’t run off this time. Promise.”

  “So CJ gave you all the details, eh?”

  “He filled me in between shots of whiskey. Touch me here, Libby.” I moved her hand down to my erection. She boldly cupped my rod and cooed. “Wow, that feels better than I expected it would. I, uh...Would you like to...” CJ had said the man should be the one in control. “I want you to stroke it.”

  “You really have learned some new things. What happened to slow?”

  “Was that too fast for you? Hell, I’m messing it up again.”

  “No.” She squeezed me, and I gasped at the intensity of pleasurable sensations her touch coursed through my body. “I’m very cool with this. I like touching you, Reichardt. Mmm, you’re so hard.”

  I lifted her and carried her out into the bedroom, dimly lit by the twilight. An explosion of purple ruffles and fringes decorated the bed. I set her on the bed, then she sinuously moved into a crouch, luring me with a crook of her finger.

  “Come here, big boy.”

  I would go to her, all right. But I wouldn’t come. Couldn’t do that and remain pure, which was important if I were to ransom my soul later this evening. But until then? I wanted to know as much pleasure as I could before it was too late.

  * * *

  My fallen angel, who had once collected souls endlessly without emotion, without regard for right or wrong, was quickly becoming a real, feeling, wanting man.

  I drew him across the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off to expose his magnificent abs and chest. So bold and hard, like iron, yet warm as a smoldering fire. I pressed a cheek to his chest and closed my eyes. By the goddess, he was as good to touch as I’d imagined.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I can hear your heart beat,” I said. “I once laid my hand on your chest when you were the soul bringer. Not a single beat from that unfeeling old glass heart. It’s amazing to hear it now.”

  I tongued his nipple. Reichardt sucked in a hissing breath. And then I noticed the small blue dots about three inches above his left nipple.

  “Seven of them,” I said, “sort of shaped like an H. Is this your angel sigil?”

  “You tell me. I thought it was a tattoo but couldn’t reason why a soul bringer would get such a thing.”

  “All angels have sigils,” I said. “This is probably yours. Cool. I wonder what it means?”

  I quickly decided the meaning: this sexy, hot guy belongs to Libby St. Charles. Hands off!

  Okay, so I wouldn’t mention that to him. Yet.

  Mapping my tongue down his fiery skin, I journeyed over the ridged muscles, and lower, and—no belly button. That disturbed me only a moment. I knew the facts. Angels were not born but created.

  Still.

  His fingers worked through my hair as I kissed lower down his abdomen. He had more than a six pack—this was a good eight pack, and I’d never known the mortal body could be so hard, truly like stone. I lashed my tongue over the ridges, marking each one as my own.

  Stroking a palm over his erection summoned a groan from him and he rocked his hips forward.

  “Oh, yeah, you’ve got rhythm. I’ll make you a rocker one way or another, lover boy. Speaking of which, we need music.”

  I clapped once and the stereo turned on, emitting Wynonna Judd’s brassy form of rock ‘n’ roll blues into the room.

  “You’ve some interesting magic.”

  “That wasn’t magic—that was the Clapper. Now let’s make sure this tight zipper doesn’t do any damage to your main stick.”

  I eased down the zipper of his fly and the thick red head of him landed against my palm. I gave it a squeeze, marveling at the size of it. So hot and ready for attention. I wanted to study it, to lick it, to make it my own, but I was still completely dressed and in heels.

  “Dress off,” I whispered, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

  “Right.”

  My dress flew off and landed on the floor. Beneath, a matching bra and panties—purple, of course, emphasized my curves. I’d never been self-conscious of my extra pounds when getting naked with a man, but the way Reichardt looked at me now, dragging his eyes over my breasts and down to my panties, made me slide a hand in front of my stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t cover yourself. You’re so beautiful. I love the curve of your belly. It’s so feminine.”

  He bent to kiss me there as I knelt before him. I slid the hand away and raked it through his short dark hair. In Reichardt’s embrace, I felt like the goddess he named me. A kiss to my panties traveled a heat path up to my nipples and back down again. Sighing out a languorous moan, I grew wet for him and knew nothing could possibly go slow from this
moment onward.

  Overindulgence? Here I come!

  “It’s all or nothing now, lover boy,” I whispered as his kisses moved lower and his tongue crept out to tickle my mons. “Oh, yeah.” The panties dropped down my thighs and he moved up to unfasten the clasp at the back of my bra. Remarkably, he got it on the first try. “Most professionals can’t even master that move, let alone a beginner.”

  “Maybe I’ve some magic, as well?”

  “Oh, you do. It’s right here.”

  I kissed him hard and desperately, because he needed to know this was going to happen now. While doing so, I kicked my panties aside and toed off the high heels. Crazy peeling-off-the-clothes-and-stumbling-because-it’s-so-awkward sex is my kind of fun.

  Pushing down Reichardt’s jeans, I oohed and aahed as his remarkable penis sprang forth. It was worth the adulation, and it fell heavily into my grasp.

  “Is it manly enough for you?”

  “Reichardt, it’s amazing. So thick and hard. I can’t wait to play with it.”

  “Play?”

  “Yes, sex is fun and can be playful. Now lie back,” I said.

  “No, the man should be the one in control. I want to play with your body.” He pushed me back to land against the pillows.

  I had wanted the man to take control.

  The phone rang. Oh, hell no.

  Reaching for the man stick jutting from his thicket of dark curls, I pulled Reichardt over my body. I glided a leg up along his and cooed over his cock, something I knew every man could appreciate.

  The phone rang again.

  “I don’t care for those loud ringy things,” he said between kisses to my breasts. “Can you make it stop with another clap?”

  “It’ll stop after the fourth ring. See?”

  He nuzzled against my belly and laved his tongue over my skin. His path was heading south. I moaned appreciatively, but the bedamned phone rang again.

  “Oh, drats. That’s Vika.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We have a signal. If either of us doesn’t answer the first round of rings, we immediately call back if it’s an emergency. I hope this isn’t another job so soon. I have to get this.”