Book of Love

by Julia Talbot

  Dark magic draws them together, but they’re generating sparks all on their own.

  Culper, Colorado, is a one-everything town. One stoplight. One post office-slash-pawn shop-slash-bakery. And one bookstore, which Shiloh volunteers to watch while the owner is on vacation. It’s a nice change of pace to her lonely life.

  While perusing the shelves, Shiloh finds a book that contains some shockingly naughty illustrations. When all sorts of mystical disasters start happening, Shiloh is sure they’re somehow connected to the book. But by then it’s too late to simply put it back on the shelf.

  Liam and Elijah’s response to the town’s call for help is a first. Their first paranormal case, and their first in-person meeting. They’re longtime online friends with a common interest in the unexplainable, but they’re shocked by the sparks that fly, not only between the two of them, but between them and Shiloh.

  Somehow the book’s dark magic is not only the catalyst, but is also feeding off their sexual attraction. They must work together to figure out how to put the escaped entity back where it belongs—before it closes the book on their budding relationship.

  Warning: Contains wild acts of sexual magic, a porny old book about demons, and a threesome where the boys touch each other as well as their woman.

  Book of Love

  Julia Talbot

  Dedication

  As always, to my wife, and to my readers, who love books about love.

  Chapter One

  The Minotaur Bookshop smelled of weed. Not goldenrod or larkspur. No, it smelled of a giant doobie. As if Bella, the owner, was burning it in the fireplace, maybe. Or in the hundreds of little incense burners spread about the place.

  Shiloh waved her hand in front of her nose, blinking the tears out of her eyes. Wow. This was where she was going to spend the next week while Bella was in California at some pagan unity fest dancing around a maypole? She would spend the whole time high as a kite.

  “Goddess in the heavens, no wonder she’s always wearing that goofy monkey grin.”

  “What did you say, honey?” Bella came out from the back, blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

  “Nothing, sweetie. Did you leave me a list of instructions?” She was fairly sure they included things such as “water the pot plant”, “make sure no one disturbs the ceremonial masks in the back”, and “feed the feral cats”.

  “I did. Don’t forget, the Zombie Apocalypse Literary Knitters club meets on Tuesday night.”

  “Right. That’s Annie and Lester and…”

  “Sunshine and her girls, along with Janet and Harriet.”

  “Wow. Big group.” There were that many zombie knitters in Culper? Seriously?

  “Reading and knitting will both be skills in a dystopian world, Shiloh.”

  “Of course. Do I need to provide anything?”

  “Just make sure no one tries to shoot a crossbow into the cookbook section again. That left a mark.”

  Crossbow. Right. She made a note. No weapons.

  “I can do that. Uh, is the Vegan Hot Dog Roasting Association still using your stove on Thursdays?”

  “Yes, and there will be a yoga class on Saturday in the backyard. Nothing serious, but please make sure Wilhelmina doesn’t let my chickens loose again. I can’t convince her I’m not keeping them hostage.”

  Shiloh nodded, even as she closed her eyes. Why had she moved home to Colorado, again? Oh, right. Mountains, skiing, river rafting and a house that she’d inherited from her daddy that had been in the family for generations.

  That and Aunt Chrissie needed help in the coffee shop/bakery/post office/New Age store/pawnshop.

  That was enough to make up for the crazy inconvenience of Wilhelmina Schrader running amok on her electric scooter screaming, “Meat is murder!” once a week or more. Right?

  Right.

  “So Peanut Butter is on a special diet?” She swore if she had to cook chicken and rice for a Chihuahua-Pekingese mix she was going to quit.

  “The food’s in the break room, all labeled.” Bella came up to her, the wave of patchouli hitting about three feet before the older lady’s body did. “Thank you for this. It’s so hard, since Jenn left…”

  Shiloh nodded, hugged Bella tight. Jenn had gone out ice fishing one morning at dawn three winters ago and had disappeared, nothing but her tackle and one mitten left behind.

  Bella still acted as if it were a total accident, as though her lover of twenty years had wandered off in search of aliens and would be back soon.

  Everyone else knew better, but no one pushed Bella to accept any kind of explanation.

  “Go have fun,” Shiloh said, patting Bella’s fuzzy sweater. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “I’ll have my phone, should you run into trouble. Not that you can’t call Sheriff Monty.”

  They looked at each other and busted out with wild laughter. Montrose Dell had been the sheriff in Jacks County for the last thirty-eight years and, rumor had it, once upon a time the man hadn’t been five hundred pounds and nearly blind.

  It was a good thing they didn’t have crime here.

  “Go on, now. It ought to be so warm in California.” She let Bella lead the way to the door. They had warm days now, but summer was still weeks away, and there could be some chilly rains swooping down from the Rockies. Hence the green-smelling fire. Woo.

  As soon as Bella left, Shiloh went to put out the incense.

  Last thing she needed was to have a vision and burn the bookstore down.

  That would make Bella grumpy.

  She giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth when the sound echoed. Looked as if it might be a long day.

  The notes behind the register were incredibly clear, written in Bella’s perfectly legible blocky print. Every possible problem for the next few days had been explained, answers carefully outlined. She grinned. No, Wilhelmina was not allowed to put up any posters. Yes, Aramina Gersham, the sweet eight-year-old whose mom made llama hats, could come in and sit with Peanut Butter in the afternoons. It went on and on.

  Shiloh grabbed a book randomly from the shelf. Oh, erotic divination. Delicious. Just think of all the crusty old dudes that had pawed over this one. She put it back gingerly, immediately wanting to run for the hand sanitizer.

  The shelf was filled with esoteric tomes mixed with the Babe on a Broomstick titles. Crazy. She’d seen enough weirdness to not be a bitch about it, but her mother, college and living in Dallas for a bit had instilled a strong streak of skepticism.

  She chuckled at the book simply labeled, Summoning in an old-fashioned Goth-y font. Summoning what?

  It was dirty and smelled in that amazing way of old books—dust and history, ink and something that was only books. Shiloh imagined it was probably glue and paper and solvents or something, but damn it, it was a book about magic, she could romanticize, right?

  She flipped it open, grinning even wider at spells to summon genies and selkies, wizards and goats. Why the hell would anyone bring forth a goat?

  Not that she had any issues with goats. Mick had some great nannies and the best goat cheese on the Western Slope, but you could just go ask him to borrow one…

  Oh. She squinted at the book. That was just a guy who resembled a goat with…whoa.

  Oh, that was impressive. There were a bunch of them—well-endowed men with huge racks of antlers or horns. It was…well, obscene, but a little erotic and incredibly fascinating, especially for such an old book. She could use one or two of those, especially the one on the next page.

  The thought made her look around to make sure no one was peering over her shoulder.

  Just her, the smoke and the animals. Thank the goddess.

  She did run her fingers over the hottest-looking number with a wide chest and a
big, uh, sword. “I could so handle you, buddy.”

  Hell, the men in Culper were either taken, old or just passing through, and Shiloh knew how the locals treated their own who dabbled with the migrants. Even a hippie-free-love town with a hot springs wasn’t really all that permissive.

  Shiloh didn’t need anything long term; she didn’t need a commitment. She needed a good, hard fuck.

  Snorting, she put the book aside for later, when she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming in.

  Still her brain kept going back to those horns, that heavy, hard prick.

  By the time she closed the shop, she was a little obsessed. She wanted to take the book home. No one would notice, right? She could just stare all night.

  What would it possibly hurt?

  Bella wouldn’t mind. Shiloh tucked the book into her bag before locking up. She would drop Peanut Butter off at Cindy Moss’s place, where he could spend the night like a puppy pasha, and then hit the Dog House for a hot dog before heading home.

  The big old house stood at the edge of town, a sentinel, gothic and wonderful. It resembled the Addams Family house, only in better repair, and it was the main reason she’d ended up in Culper as an adult.

  Daddy had loved this house with a passion, had spent hours, days, years, working on it, repairing this and replacing that. The floors were buttery smooth now, the old built-in china cabinet lovingly restored to its walnut finish.

  Shiloh smiled as she wandered toward the kitchen. It was a touch bittersweet still, but mostly sweet. She could feel Daddy in every inch of this house.

  She sat at the table and munched her hot dogs and fries before heading to the small back parlor to light a little fire and curl up with her book. She pulled a blanket over her lap and started reading the chapter titled Invoking the Spirit of Eros.

  That was what she needed. Eros. The power of the masculine and sex. A nice big cock. She giggled at herself. Right.

  That was her, slut extraordinaire. Hell, she hadn’t had a relationship in five years, easy, and she’d never just had someone for a one-night stand. Her fingers traced the image of the horned man, the muscled body, the long, needy erection.

  He was so compelling. She could see why people worshipped him. She mouthed the first few words of his incantation, sounding them out.

  A god that chased you through the forest, someone to make you feel things you never had. To make you wild with need. Relentless in his quest for pleasure. She pressed her thighs together, the tingle between them long forgotten, thrilling.

  She traced the odd-looking symbols with one finger, her fingertip sliding on the page. A shiver went through her, and she glanced at the door, wondering where the draft came from.

  Silly girl.

  She shifted in the chair, her heartbeat sounding loud and heavy in her ears. Shiloh closed the book, though, just in case, because the hair was standing up on the back of her neck. Maybe she needed to watch some Dr. Who or something.

  Maybe she needed to order a vibrator off Amazon. Did they sell sex toys on Amazon? Someone had to sell them online, right? Adam and Eve? Something. The wind picked up, rattling the old glass in the windows.

  Man, she was all wigged out. Maybe she needed to get a dog. Her dad had always had St. Bernards. Beulah had died about a week after her dad, though, and her Aunt Chrissie had been hysterical.

  She got up, wandering, mind flitting from thing to thing. The house seemed huge tonight, echoing. Maybe she’d grab some cookies and head up to bed.

  There was a thump in the reading room and she jumped, squeaked a little. “Fuck!”

  Shiloh looked around for a stick. A bat. She settled on firewood, grabbing a piece she could swing.

  The book was open, the pages parted at that guy, the horned god.

  Whoa. What the hell? She dropped the firewood, her scalp prickling again.

  Her practical mind pointed out that it was a breeze, and to the fact that she’d had the book open to that spot. Hell, as edible as Horny Man looked, everyone had probably kept the tome marked right there for easy access. Why wouldn’t the book fall open there?

  She walked over to the book, touched the picture, her nipples going hard. “I wish you were available, just to give a girl a little relief.”

  The window rattled again, the wind going to town out there. She swore she heard footsteps on the back porch.

  Okay. Okay. No freaking out.

  Maybe she should call Monty. Except that it would take him an hour to get there from half a mile away. She got her firewood again, and a flashlight.

  “Whoever’s out there, I’m armed!”

  When she flung the door open, no one was there. Not even a raccoon.

  “Great. You’re losing your fucking mind.” Shiloh shook her head. Time for bed. Obviously she’d had too much of Bella’s special smoke.

  She sighed and locked up, checking everything before turning off the lights. She didn’t take the book upstairs because it was freaking her out a little.

  She reached up to turn off the bedroom light and stopped.

  Okay, no one would know if she slept with the lights on. And the TV on. And maybe a piece of firewood next to the bed.

  Once she was settled in maybe an hour later, she made sure her blanket covered her toes too.

  Even with a little help from her fingers, the only way she was going to salvage this night was if she dreamed of the horned guy. His wonder cock might just save her from herself.

  A girl could hope, right?

  Peanut Butter was going nuts at the shop. Shiloh thought maybe she was going to have to kill him. Two more days until Bella got home, and PB jumped at every little sound. Of course, so did Shiloh. In fact, she figured she was losing her mind.

  She kept…seeing things.

  Big things right outside the window, on the street, in the woods looking back at her. At least she thought that was what she was seeing. When she stopped and really looked, there was never anything there.

  Out of the corner of her eye, though, there would be a tall man. With horns.

  Which, okay, she got it. She fantasized about getting it on with a deity. It made your brain a little loopy.

  Still, she totally needed it to stop.

  She’d taken the stupid book back to the shop and put it away. Somehow it kept popping up all over. Open. To the horned guy picture, that big cock staring her in the face at the worst times. As in during yoga practice.

  Not exactly Zen-inducing, especially when Mrs. Yarbro pointed and squealed, “Look at that big old peepee!”

  Peepee? Seriously?

  The thought did make Shiloh giggle, though, and shake her head. That woman—the one from California that had bought the B&B near the slopes, she’d gone all pursed-lips and disapproving. Maybe she needed a visit from Mr. Hard and Horny too.

  “That’s a good idea,” Shiloh murmured to Peanut Butter. “Maybe I can send him forth to smite other people with his virile manliness.”

  PB looked at her, cocked his head, then started wagging furiously.

  “I know, right? It’s a great plan.”

  “Go forth, horned dude,” she said to the air in the store. “Give Kelly a good horny time.”

  The pile of logs in the fireplace let go, the wood crackling and crashing down into the grate, sending sparks shooting up the fireplace.

  Shiloh jumped back. “Shit, that thing does that a lot.”

  PB growled and barked, bouncing forward to intimidate the evil fire.

  “Good boy.” At least it didn’t smell like a pot house anymore. She’d brought in a couple of new logs and swept out a lot of the old ash.

  Bella did appreciate her green, as evidenced by the giant hemp plant growing in the tiny back section of the basement. Crazy broad.

  The rattle of wind against the windows made her sigh. “I know. I need to dust. Two more days, PB.”

  And then she was back at the bakery full time, inventing weird brownies and goodies for all the different diets—gluten fre
e, vegan, Paleo, dairy free. They got local eggs, owned a share in a cow and had amazing sources for their flour. Aunt Chrissie had done well.

  Shiloh got the feather duster and started working, anything to pass the time.

  The doorknob rattled, a sound resembling hooves on the covered porch.

  “Damn it.” She stomped to the porch, throwing open the door. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  There was nothing.

  Like nothing-nothing.

  Weird.

  “Maybe I need to break into Bella’s stash,” she muttered, glaring at the little crust of snow that had fallen overnight. “And what the fuck is up with the snow? It’s April. Get to being spring!”

  “Who are you talking to, honey?” Zeb Kirchner asked, hobbling around from behind the building. He was Bella’s handyman, and he was a hundred if he was a day.

  “Someone was on the porch, Zeb. Someone was stomping around, trying to scare me.”

  “Well, I’ll look around.”

  Yeah. He could hit them with his cane.

  “Just be careful, huh?” The man was the oldest human being alive, for goodness’ sake.

  “Will do, honey.” He clomped off, muttering and whacking things.

  “Should I go after him, PB?”

  Was she talking to the dog? Oh, God, she needed to get back to the bakery, get back to real work.

  Real life.

  Out of this nutty bookstore.

  When she went back to stir the fireplace, that silly book lay right there on the chair next to the fireplace. Open.

  “Okay, this isn’t cool.” She walked over and slammed the book shut, taking it back into Bella’s office and locking it away. There. Now maybe she could get something done.

  Something reasonable.

  The bell over the door rang, and she whirled about, ready to toss any handy book at her tormentor.

  “Hey, lovely! I’m home. I got bored and needed my books.”

  “Bella!” Oh, thank God. She went to hug Bella hello, relieved.

  “Oh, honey. Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

  “I’ve just had some weird dreams. Hard time sleeping.”