The Red Shoe Chronicles : A Fantasy Romance Anthology
Page 16
“We slept together. It wasn’t a proposal.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her pointy ear. “And I don’t plan to ever marry.”
“What? Why?” Baffled by that announcement, Jed gaped at her as they walked along the hallway.
“Are we getting the cursed objects back or discussing my life choices?”
Jed inclined his head, understanding her point. There were more important matters than her marriage plans. Together the three of them stepped onto his roof. Wylde shifted and took flight, not waiting for Jed to change into his dragon form and let Rose crawl on top of him. Once she was secured into place, Jed flew off the roof. This time, she hunched over his back, holding onto his scales, without any hooting and hollering of joy. Jed vowed this would not be the last time he flew with her.
It took them less than two hours to cross through the portal and locate Godmother’s last known magickal trail, something Rose could see. She was forty minutes outside Chattanooga, Tennessee, in a tiny, one-bedroom log cabin situated in the mountains. It was eclipsed by towering trees and the nearest neighbor was a fifteen minute ride away.
They parked the SUV they rented when they got into town on the street so they wouldn’t alert the woman to their presence. In silence they approached the cabin. Jed glanced about searching for sentries. He hadn’t expected any guards, but it never hurt to be too cautious.
“She’s here,” Rose whispered. “The house is coated in magick. Almost all of it bad and it’s growing, blobbing out like slime as it expands.”
“Goddamn human doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into,” Wylde muttered under his breath.
Jed tread across the front porch toward the door, his steps light and noiseless. To the right of the door, he stopped to listen for the presence of others. None but Godmother could be identified.
“My pretties,” a feeble voice wobbled through the door.
“There’s something wrong,” Rose said from right behind him.
Spinning around, he glared at her. “I told you to stay back.”
“I have problems with authority.”
Jed closed his eyes to regain his composure and Wylde chuckled.
“I think the magick of the cursed objects have affected her.” She leaned her head to the side as if listening to Godmother’s words, ‘my pretties,’ repeated over and over again. “There’s something really wrong about her voice. She didn’t sound like that when we met.”
“Noted,” Jed clipped out, his concern for Rose’s welfare turning his voice harsher than necessary. “Back off.”
She grinned at him, took a step back, but went around him to enter the cabin before he could register her intention. Scrambling to join her, he stumbled to a halt just inside the entryway, his chest almost touching Rose’s back.
The older woman from his security feed sat on the floor, with cursed objects encircling her. In her arms, she cradled a spear stolen from King Tut’s tomb.
“My pretties.” Godmother kissed the tip of the spear, the razor fine edge gashing a diagonal across both lips. Blood oozed down her chin and dripped onto the staff. “My pretties.”
Fucking hell, in less than a day the Fairy Godmother’s sanity had been stripped from her. “Suit up, Wylde.”
A few minutes later, Wylde returned to the cabin with protective boxes and gloves. Godmother shrieked when they grew near, but Jed was prepared thanks to Rose’s real-world knowledge of Planet X. He jabbed a hypodermic needle into Godmother’s neck and pressed the plunger. The alligator tranquilizer worked quick, and she dropped to the floor, the spear falling to the rug beneath her.
Wylde and Jed boxed up the cursed objects while Rose checked out the comatose halfling. When she looked up at them, she shook her head. “I can’t help her here. She needs my relatives and even then I’m not sure she’ll make it.”
Chapter 10
Are You Done
Rose Jeffcoat
Rose was exhausted. It’d taken them another four hours to box up all the cursed objects, return to their dragon-ruled world, drop off Godmother with Rose’s mother—that’d resulted in questions Rose couldn’t answer—and head back to her place. Jed tried to convince her into coming back to his home, but she declined. With everything that had happened, she hadn’t considered how she would handle the situation she’d gotten herself into.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she’d said after the limousine stopped at her high-rise condominium unit.
Jed had kissed the hell out of her. She’d grown wet, her breasts had tingled, and for one reckless moment she’d considered straddling him and fucking him right there in the vehicle. Finally, she’d pulled out of his arms and entered her building.
After a night of tossing and turning, she’d dragged herself out of bed and got dressed for her job. At the last minute, she called in and gave her notice for an emergency vacation. She wasn’t running from confronting Jed, but she could still see the magick of the shoes lingering on her bare feet. She had no idea why the mojo remained when it should’ve only lasted forty-eight hours. Either way the evidence implied that he could be feeling the effects of the spell, also. She wanted to give him time for the magick to wear off and think clearly. Rose couldn’t trust anything he said before that happened.
Day one, he’d called and left six messages for her to cut the bullshit and face him. She turned off her phone so he couldn’t track her GPS.
Day two, she booked a week-long excursion into the Dragon Tail, a hike so hard and steep, only expert hikers were allowed to take it. When she bathed that evening, she noticed the magick on her feet had begun to fade.
Day three showed more fading, but enough of a glimmer to know the magick remained. What if the spell worked so long as they remained in each other’s presence? Then he’d become more and more drugged by her and would only stay with her because of the magick.
Day four, with just a sprinkling of magick remaining across her toes, she turned on her cell and checked her messages. Bad mistake. There were twenty calls and more than a dozen texts from Jed and two from Wylde. She’d turned off her device without listening or reading any of them.
Day five, one small sparkle remained on her big toe. The last visible reminder of what she’d shared with Jed. With it, would his desire to be with her vanish as well?
Day six, no magick remained. Finally. Relieved only because she’d learn the truth when she returned, she was also now worried by what would happen between them. She pushed on with the group enjoying her rare hiking trip, stalling her confrontation with Jed. The idea he might look at her as a rapist gutted her. She would understand, but she wasn’t ready to face that possibility just yet.
Day seven, deep in the jungle, she suddenly found a dragon dropping from the sky and landing in front of her path, halting her walk. Rose squealed and stumbled backward. Her guide, a tough elf popular among the women for his survival skills, sprinted away like a feeble child. The others on the tour, also took off. Alone with her announced visitor, her heart leapt with excitement, but in the next moment, her stomach rolled with dread.
Rose punched the dragon in the nose. “You scared the hell out of them.” She motioned toward the backside at the hikers formerly known as part of her group. “You know elves are skittish.”
Jed shifted into his man form, his shoulder-length black hair windblown, eyes glittering and creased at the corners. Jaw tight, his fingers clenched at his sides.
“Scared them?” he growled as he approached her with wide steps. “Scared them?” Fire sparked from his tongue. “You scared at least fifty years off my life when you went missing.”
“I wasn’t missing. You’re being dramatic.” God, he looked so good her mouth went dry and she knew she could wet her tongue on him. “I told Mom where I was.” Fuck, her voice quivered.
“Your mom didn’t trust me enough to give me that information.” He stopped right in her space, the heat of his dragon breath hitting her face. “I thought you were avoiding me.”
“I was.”
“Why?” Utter, all-consuming hurt flashed across his face and he made no attempt to hide his emotions from her. “We have something good, Rose.”
Rose palmed his cheek and ran her thumb along his bottom lip. “I had to give the shoe’s magick time to wear off.”
“Are you done waiting, yet?”
Something about that question caught her off guard and a bubble of laughter pressed up her throat. She choked it down. “Yeah, the last of it disappeared yesterday.”
“Thank, gods.” He grasped the back of her neck, his grip firm and dominant. That hold made her pussy quiver with need. “Come home with me, let’s talk about the future, and meet my parents. They’re dying to meet the elf that stole my heart.”
Rose processed his words slowly. Had she heard him right? “You aren’t pissed off at me? You still want me?”
“Goddamnit, Rose, I told you this already. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time.” He got nose-to-nose with her, his grip on her neck tightening as if emphasizing his words. “I will not let you go without a fight.”
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. He still wanted her. She knew just enough about spells to know they oftentimes went bad. That the shoes hadn’t ruined everything stunned her.
Elation slammed into her mind and Rose flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. “I love you, Jed Night.”
Air was squeezed from her lungs when he hugged her against him.
“Hearing that was worth all the fear I suffered while you were off on this bullshit hike.” Jed wrapped her hair around his fingers and tugged her head back by the strands. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again.” He kissed her forehead, nose, and both cheeks before hovering his mouth over hers. She stared at his mouth a long time, waiting, breathless to connect with him, but finally lifted her gaze when he made no other move. The moment their eyes converged, he said, “I love you more, Rose Jeffcoat.”
The End
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About the Author
www.gracen-miller.com
I’m a Southern princess—haha—nah! I am Southern, but I come from the wrong side of the tracks in a small Alabama town, just 30 minutes from the Florida state line. I have a dirty mind and I’m not afraid to use it. I guess growing up poor gave me a “fuck you and your opinion” attitude because I’m dirty and proud. I currently live in Ashville, AL and most of my books either have an Alabama setting or Alabama references—but not all.
I say one too many y’all’s, dawgs, and fucks, but I’m proud to be a Southern gal raised by a single mom, or a damn Yankee in her words. It couldn’t have been easy to raise me alone in a Southern mindset where they snubbed her California liberal views. I am not your typical Southern Belle, and I’m a bit too crass for ‘polite society’. All the same... Sweet Home Alabama, y’all!
Dangerous Desires
A Modern Cinderella Retelling with a Mafia Twist
J. P. Uvalle
Chapter 1
A modern-day Bronx tale had consumed my life. No matter how hard I had tried to resist getting caught up in the drama, he found me—ruined me. We knew the notorious Vincenzo family for their immaculate suits and Sicilian flare. As one of the two Mafia families left standing in New York, they recently claimed sovereignty over Little Italy. They owned this Italian restaurant, so in a way, they believed they owned the people working here, too. Including me, a minimum-wage waitress trying to save up enough money to move away from all this and finish college.
Last I had heard, they were in a Monopoly war to claim all of New York from the Giamattis, the oldest and most ruthless Mafia from Sicily. The people of New York were forced to choose sides in a war we wanted no part in. Little did we know, our small world would be turned upside down.
Well, at least mine was.
"Sherry quit. The Vincenzo's table is yours—"
"But—”
"No buts. Now, try not to upset them, huh?" My boss Marco had to be kidding. Not getting on Vincenzo's shit list was like asking someone not to breathe. They wore power like skin and were difficult to please. So I'd heard. Sherry was proof of that. No wonder she'd quit. Sherry was tough as nails; if she couldn't handle the Vincenzo men, there was no hope for the rest of us. I needed a fucking miracle.
I whispered so only Marco could hear. "You do realize those men are going to eat me alive and spit me back out for the bottom feeders to eat?"
"I'll take my chances. You are my best waitress here tonight. I have faith in you." He winked.
I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "Butterin' me up, huh? You're so kind. And the boss of the year award goes to…"
"See. You got charm, sass, and grit. You'll be fine." He dismissed me with a wave.
"Yeah, you probably told Sherry the same thing before she quit." I pivoted on my heel with a huff. Glancing at the clock over the bar, I wished I could fast-forward through the next four hours. I'm going to need a cigarette. I rerouted to the back and exited through the back door, propping it open, so I didn't get locked out. I reached into my apron only to discover I had no more cigarettes. Shit! Shit! Shit! I face-palmed, stomping my heel into the ground. Today of all days, I had no smokes to take the edge off.
Leaning my head against the wall, I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I inhaled a deep breath and attempted to give myself a pep talk. However, I wasn't much of a cheerleader, so there went that. I decided it was probably best to quit while I was ahead. Join the Sherry boat of joblessness.
At least I lived to see another day, right?
Well, that's not what happened.
I heard some rustling over by the dumpsters. A glimpse of a woman in black heels and long legs, wearing a red hooded coat, appeared out of nowhere and swayed over in my direction.
"You look like you need a pick-me-up."
"I guess you could say that." I squinted, but it didn't matter. Even though she was right in front of me, the hood mysteriously hid her face from my view.
"Well, it's your lucky day, darling."
I raised a brow, intrigued. "Is that so?"
"Yes. Enough small talk. What if I told you I could give you anything your heart desires? All you have to do is wear these shoes." She unveiled a pair of glittery red stilettos from her coat.
I'd never seen a pair of shoes so gorgeous in real life. They were something out of a fairy tale, and their mesmerizing sparkle pulled me into a steamy vision of a man behind me. Our bodies entangled in between the bedsheets, sweat dripping down my back, his fists in my hair. It sent a rush through me. And in the next moment, the vision was gone.
I licked my lips, yearning for whatever those shoes promised. But I knew lavish things came with a hefty price. "What's the catch?"
"The magic only lasts for forty-eight hours, but until then, you cannot take them off. If you do, the spell will be broken."
"Magic? I don't believe in magic."
"Suit yourself." She turned on a dime and began to strut down the alley, which seemed to grow dark wherever she was.
The more distance she put between us, the more I felt I was missing out on an opportunity of a lifetime. What did I have to lose? I was alone, working a dead-end job. Yeah, I had a goal of saving money to attend college, but let's be realistic here. I had terrible credit and working to afford my education would take years. Maybe this was a sign; something else was meant for me. "Wait." I followed her. Currently, the shoes were the only thing I had going for me, and I was determined to have this encounter with the Vincenzo men go off without a hitch.
She slowly but surely turned around with the widest smile I had ever seen. "Smart girl. You won't regret it." She handed them to me. "Try them on."
I gulped with a nod. "Okay." I bent down to remove my work shoes. "Thank—"
But first. I had Vincenzos to deal with.
Back inside, I approached the table of men with my head held high. I noticed the one in charge always sat in the middle of the booth. I'd assumed it was for their protection, but I was caught off guard by how much younger this man was. This wasn't the don who frequented here. The younger gentleman had the don's amber eyes, wicked grin, and chiseled chin. My God! It's the don's son—his capo, who rarely made an appearance in public, but I'd heard the rumors of how ruthless he was. He drew slowly on his cigar, each smoky breath commanding silence.
A fire had lit in my core. If I couldn't smoke inside, neither could he. Those were the rules. "You’re not allowed to smoke in here."
He blew the smoke in my direction. "Says who?" I already don't like this guy. At least his father followed the rules, but this one, ugh. Entitled asshole. Sorry, Marco, for I had already failed. We may have been a small Italian restaurant, but our rules deserved to be followed—Mafia or not.
His henchman cackled like hyenas.
"Me." I pointed to the sign across the restaurant.
He answered my hostility with a half-grin, removing his black fedora. He tilted his head of clean-cut black hair from side to side, studying me for a long moment as if staring at me so intently told him everything he needed to know about me. "My men and I are doing business here, be a good little waitress and bring us some whiskey."
"You think you own this place, so get your own damn whiskey." With a scoff, I pivoted on my heel and headed toward the back. I didn't have to subject myself to this.