by Abigail Owen
She’s fully aware that you’re not good. She’s talking to me.
I kissed her hard, then pulled away and opened the passenger door. As she got in, I put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to me.
“But tomorrow night—” holding her gaze, her deep green eyes rounded at something she saw in mine—“you’re all mine.”
She smiled, a blush noticeable even in the dark. “Yes, sir.”
Got that damn right.
3
~EVIE~
Isadora and I had finished making the little paper imitations of Clara’s favorite historical romance novels around midnight, then were up early to clean and decorate the Cauldron. That had taken till the afternoon to get it to Isadora’s satisfaction. Now, we were finally setting the tables, which was allegedly last on her list before we showered and dressed for the party.
I propped the replicas of Julia Quinn’s Just Like Heaven and Kerrigan Byrne’s The Highlander alongside the miniature tea set. A raised silver plate of votive candles centered each table. Not yet lit. Livvy followed behind us, ornamenting the centerpiece with her feature for Violet. I circled back to the last table to get a good look.
“Whoa. Livvy, that’s freaking gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it?”
Isadora flipped her wild hair over one shoulder so she could lean in close and focus on balancing the replica of Lisa Kleypas’s Seduce Me at Sunrise just right. “So humble, Livvy.”
She leveled one of her superior looks at Isadora before shrugging. “I see no point in being coy. It looks fabulous.”
She’d recreated the blooming orchid tattoo that dominated most of Violet’s right shoulder. Violet’s ink was done in intense shading of black and blue, but Livvy had created a silk version with deep indigo and purplish hues at the center. In the midst of that was a sprinkle of glitter that shimmered silver and seemed to move like raindrops sliding along the petals as you moved position around the table.
I tilted my head and raised an accusatory brow. “You used magic.”
She shrugged innocently again before twisting her jet-black waves up onto her head, tying it into a messy bun.
“No one said I couldn’t. It’s just a little glamour spell. It can’t hurt anyone.”
“Until Jules catches on. You know how she is about using magic for frivolous things.”
Livvy leaned over a table and set another of her blooming silk creations next to a miniature copy of Eloisa James’s Three Weeks with Lady X. “Beauty is not frivolous,” she murmured.
Smiling at her response, I continued onto my next table. Livvy was a lover of beauty. But not just the physical kind. Though of us sisters, she was the most arresting with her black hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes that shifted more green, blue, or brown, depending on her mood. There was also something about the shape of Livvy’s features. They were similar to the rest of ours, but more severe, exaggerated. Her eyes rounder, cheekbones sharper, and her lips overfull. Add that to her unique style, she stuck out in that uniquely beautiful way that turned heads.
Like now. While I was in my everyday attire of jeans and a T-shirt, Isadora wore a loose-fitting, beige Boho shirt with hunter-green leggings and cardigan sweater. But Livvy wore a long-sleeved black lace top that hugged her tiny waist, also accented by a red velvet belt, then flared with loose chiffon around her curvy hips. That did nothing to hide her fantastic legs draped in tight, white leggings embellished with a subtle design of ivy crawling up her legs. If any of us looked like a witch, it was Livvy.
I’d like to say she played up the persona as a walking billboard for Mystic Maybelle’s, but the truth was that her style matched her personality. Eccentric, bold, and sexy.
“Oh, my goodness!” Clara stopped in her tracks from the kitchen with a tray in her hand. Her face lit up, sparkling as much as the tiara on her head. “It looks so beautiful!” she practically squealed.
Already dressed for the party in a shimmery blueish silver mini-dress, in addition to her crown, she wore her red birthday sash with silver writing, Princess for a day.
“Y’all are the best sisters ever!” She set the tray down on the buffet table beside the silver-domed servers.
Isadora skipped over to her and wrapped her in a hug, then gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Anything for our baby sister.”
Clara hugged her back, cheek to cheek, saying sweetly, “I’m not the baby. Violet is.”
“Close enough.”
“Clara, you look like Elsa from Frozen.”
“Thank you, Livvy!” She gasped with joy. “You know what? I could dig up ‘Let It Go’ for the Karaoke playlist.”
Isadora and I shared a look. It was Clara’s party so we’d let her sing to her tone-deaf heart’s content. But it didn’t make it any easier to know we were in for a doozy of a night with the Karaoke machine. At least, Clara was all about sharing, which meant she wouldn’t hog the stage.
I joined Clara, linking an arm with her to face our handiwork. “It really does look pretty, doesn’t it?”
White Christmas lights draped the room. Starting at the center of the beamed ceiling, we’d fanned outward, creating a starburst pattern that warmed the room with a magical glow. The tables were lovely and would add to the cozy ambiance when the votive candles were lit. Greenery draped the walls with red ribbon and gold beads twining together. Each wall featured an oversized wreath with gold and silver balls and lit brightly with white lights. Our Christmas tree in the corner next to the stage where the Karaoke was set up brightened the room even more.
Just then, a man tried to open the door and found it locked.
I gasped. “The sign!” I grabbed it off the bar where I’d left it and jogged over to the door, holding it up for the man on the other side of the window to read. “Sorry!”
He read the sign: Closed for private party. Then gave me the thumbs up before ambling on. I taped the sign in the window, facing out.
“What’s on the menu?” asked Livvy, stepping over to the tray Clara had brought in.
“This is a sampler for the party. Jules knew you’d be hungry after setting up all day.”
“Bacon. Yummm.” I grabbed a bacon-wrapped shrimp and asparagus tip, greedily gobbling it down. “Freaking awesome.”
“She did those prosciutto-wrapped dates you love so much too, Livvy.”
Isadora picked up her clipboard, checking off her party to-do list. The rest of us descended on our appetizer-style dinner when three solid knocks sounded against the windowpane. Mateo stood on the other side, looking absolutely amazing. I froze with a mini eggroll halfway to my mouth. Holding my gaze through the glass, his small smile creased wider into a devilish one.
“Damn, Evie,” said Isadora with a hip-bump next to me, her Sharpie fine-point poised over her clipboard. “That man is fine with a capital F.”
“Is he ever,” I mumbled, wiping my greasy fingers on a napkin as I rushed over to unlock the door.
Dressed in a black Henley, dark jeans, and a seductive smile, his wavy hair loose, his broody eyes hinted at devilry. It was like a French cologne ad had sex with a rock video. And their baby was standing at my door, giving me a you’re-going-to-go-up-in-flames-in-my-bed-tonight look.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly, grinning like a fiend when I let him in.
“Hi.” He mirrored the same tone with suggestive meaning before swooping down with a brief but hard kiss, only a tease of tongue. Holding me by the hips against him, he licked his lips. “Mmm. Bacon.”
“That’s what I said.”
By the time we’d extricated ourselves from each other’s arms and turned around, we were alone, except for Isadora who was intently focused on her clipboard.
Clara poked her head back in from the swinging kitchen door. “Isadora,” she yell-whispered, like we couldn’t hear or see her.
Isadora popped her head up and looked shocked, like she’d just noticed us. “Oh. Sorry.” She grinned sheepishly, heading for the kitchen.
I huffed out a laugh, lacing my fingers behind his neck. “I think they’re starting to feel guilty that they’re keeping us apart so much with the party.”
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed a trail down the side of my neck. “Because when I can finally tear you away, I’m holding you hostage for a while.”
I luxuriated in the sensation of his perfect lips sweeping over my pulse. “Fine by me.”
“Evie!” called Jules. I swiveled my head. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “Oops. Sorry.”
I heaved out a sigh and backed out of Mateo’s arms. “What’s up?”
She pointed a whisk at me, as she’d obviously remembered something mid-whisk in the kitchen. “The cake. Can you go pick it up?”
“But I still need to shower.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. Friends were arriving at seven-ish for dinner, then Karaoke was kicking off right after.
“I’ll get the cake,” said Mateo.
“You will?”
He hauled me back into his arms, fingers spread wide on my waist, then he bent his head close to my ear. “Go get cleaned up. But I’ll still be getting you dirty again later tonight.”
I pulled out of his arms, walking backwards. “Promises, promises.” With a wink, I turned and headed toward the back entrance, the quickest way to our house through the alley. As much as I loved my sisters, I couldn’t wait for this party to be over.
4
~MATEO~
Hands in my pockets, I ambled across the street toward the bakery. Among the trendy and chic shops sprawled down Magazine Street, Queen of Tarts stood out in vibrant Technicolor. The window display was piled with tiers of strawberry macarons, chocolate eclairs, lemon and raspberry tarts, mini blueberry cobbler pies, and all sizes and colors of cakes with swooping decorative icing.
A whiff of cigarette smoke cut into my drooling along with a sudden push of my primal hungers. Alpha growled deep in my chest in response. He enjoyed the pull on darker cravings that a grim reaper could produce. On the corner of the bakery, his back propped against the wall was the grim I’d talked to on occasion. The same one who gave me the information I needed about Evie the night I’d met her.
Aloof but watchful, he leaned his tall frame against the brick wall, one hand in his leather jacket pocket, the other at his side with a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He didn’t acknowledge he’d noticed me, but I knew he had. Grims were known for their observational skills and their ability to remain basically invisible, adding to their air of mystery among our kind.
“Hey.” I called out with a lift of my chin as I walked over.
His dark gaze slid my way before he lifted his cigarette for a deep drag in response. Super friendly, this one.
Did he just sneer at us?
No. That’s a normal look for him.
I’ll wipe it off his face with my fist if he isn’t careful.
Calm down. He’s a friend.
And while I knew for a fact I could beat this guy in a physical fight if I needed to, which I didn’t, I always worried what kinds of powers grims kept hidden. I’d heard about a vampire who’d attacked a grim in a bar in the French Quarter last year. Within two seconds of the vampire putting his hands on the grim, he fell back onto the ground, curled into a fetal position, screaming and begging for it to stop. The vampire fell into a comatose state and needed a witch to bring him out of it. A month later. The vampire didn’t remember anything, couldn’t tell anyone what the “it” was that he wanted to stop. Only that he had a bone-deep fear of grims afterwards.
So yeah, I wasn’t going to fight him because Alpha thought he was sneering at us. As I sidled up to him, his sharp features, gaze never shifting from the street gave me the impression of a jaguar in the brush, watching and waiting for prey to suddenly fall into his line of sight. I was about to ask him exactly what he was looking for when he shocked me by speaking first.
“Things worked out well with the witch, Eveleen, didn’t they?” His gaze finally cut to me, a subtle smirk ticking up one side of his wide mouth.
Fucking right things worked out. Better stop smiling like that when you say her name, grim.
I nodded, both hands in my pockets, agreeing much more civilly than the wolf in my head. “They did.”
He measured me longer than felt comfortable, longer than he had before. Alpha bristled inside me. An edgy, anxiety rushed underneath my skin, pushing me with aggression. That might just be from standing too close to a grim this long. When I thought he might say something more about Evie, he just gave me a tight nod.
“Cool.”
I pointed over my shoulder. “Just picking up a cake for her sisters’ birthday party.”
Why I told him that, I have no idea. And why a suddenly intense expression tightened his angular features into utter stillness, I also had no idea. There was a glimpse of something in his gaze, there and gone so fast, I wondered if I’d seen it.
For some damn reason, it had me opening my mouth again, knowing full well I might be overstepping, even as the beloved boyfriend of Evie. I hesitated for a split second, but that intangible knowing of what it was like to be lonely—because I’d known that feeling better than anyone, until Evie—had me asking anyway.
“If you want to come, they’ve got plenty of drinks and food.”
For a split second, he gave me the most shocked expression I’d ever seen on his always-calm-and-cool face. When he shifted his mask of indifference back into place, he dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his boot.
“You’re inviting me to Clara’s birthday party?”
The way he said her name—so familiar—unsettled me a little. I didn’t think they knew each other that well. I cleared my throat. “Clara and Violet’s, yeah.” I shrugged a shoulder. “If you want.”
He stared at me, saying nothing, the wheels turning in his head. This exchange had suddenly become so strange and I was wondering what the hell had propelled me to ask him. The awkward silence stretched, his dark eyes measuring me again.
“Anyway,” I thumbed over my shoulder, “I’ve gotta get the cake.”
Without another glance, I pushed through the door of Queen of Tarts, jingling the bell overhead and immediately salivating at the overwhelming smells of sweets and pastries. A few seconds later, a cheery face on a robust woman with snow-white hair appeared from the swinging door leading to the back. She wore an apron that read: All you knead is love.
“Well, good morning, handsome.” She wiped some purple icing on her apron. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m here to pick up the cake for the Savoie’s.”
Her face brightened even more, her round cheeks already rosy pink. “Clara’s and her sister’s cake?” She turned to the counter behind the register where a large white cake box sat. “I hope she likes it.”
She set it on the counter and opened the lid. For a second, I just stared, trying to soak in the fact that this was actually made of milk, eggs, flour, and sugar.
“Wow.”
“You think she’ll like it?”
“Which one?” I kept staring.
“Clara. She’s a regular customer and such a sweet young lady, I wanted to do something she’d love.”
The cake was a large rectangular fantasyland. Overlaying the white icing was a green forest with a prancing unicorn, a garden of blue roses, a fairy with pink wings, a mermaid’s green tail flipping out of a lagoon, and a purple dragon breathing fire into the air. In the midst of the wonderland was a perfectly scripted happy birthday message to the twins.
The owner, for she seemed to be the owner, shuffled behind the counter. “I hope that she’ll like it. When her older sister ordered the cake, she just said to do something whimsical.”
“She’ll love it,” I assured her with complete honesty.
“And her sister? I’ve never met her but figured they probably like some of the same things. Twins and all.”
Huffing out a short laugh, I quickly recovered with a definite nod. “I�
�m sure she’ll love it, too.”
Violet would hate this cake. She might like the dragon.
If it were roasting a man on fire, she would. Man-eater, that one.
She taped the box shut and told me it had been paid for already, so I was on my way. The grim, whose name I still didn’t know, was nowhere to be seen. Funny, he probably knew my name, date of birth, and social security number, but I knew next to nothing about him. Besides the fact he was a chain-smoker and worked for Ruben Dubois on occasion.
Using the alleyway between the Cauldron and their shop, Mystic Maybelle’s, I headed back through the kitchen entrance. Jules was leaning against a counter tilting back a glass of merlot. The cooktops were all wiped down and clean, her prepping for dinner finally done.
“Got the cake,” I gestured if it wasn’t obvious enough.
“Thanks.” She set aside the now empty glass, then took the cake from me and headed into the bar.
Though I was more accustomed to seeing Jules with a permanent scowl on her face, there was a strong agitated energy around her that made me wonder if she actually had a reason to be so prickly tonight.
Following her out into the cozy ambience of the bar, a stark contrast from the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, I asked, “Everything good?”
JJ was behind the bar pouring a jug of white liquid into a giant, glass punch bowl.
“Everything’s just fine and dandy.” Her sarcastic sing-song voice told me otherwise.
“You sure about that?”
She grumbled something as she opened the cake box and set it on one end of the buffet table. She didn’t even blink at the masterpiece of confection fantasy. Just turned herself about and marched back into the kitchen with a loud slap against the swinging door.
I arched a brow at JJ, the bartender who’d worked for the sisters for years and who’d also become like a brother to them. He was one of the few humans who knew what they truly were and who knew what I was, for that matter. Most humans had no clue there were supernaturals walking among them, and we preferred it that way. But JJ was on the inside, very protective of the sisters.
