The Family Spells: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance Read online

  A woman in tears walked in, carrying a paper bag by her side. She was dressed in a black hoodie with bones on it, massive globs of mascara trailing down her face, and hot pink boots. I could smell the human on her a mile away, and wrinkled up my nose.

  "I'm not too late for my appointment, am I?" she whispered, casting a nervous glance in my direction.

  "Not at all. I penciled you in myself." Graceley tapped the book, and then gestured for the girl to follow her behind the curtain. At the last moment, she paused and then looked from the customer to me, and back again. "Would you mind if we had a sit-in on our consult? I'd knock twenty-percent off the price."

  "Yeah, that's fine," the girl murmured, and Graceley gestured for me to follow them in.

  I was intrigued, so sure, I followed them behind the curtain. They took up positions on the purple velvet chaise while I flopped in a black leather chesterfield chair. Graceley took the paper bag from the girl, and started laying out the items inside.

  A bundle of hair, a picture printed on plain paper, and a bundle of dried roses.

  "State your problem for me, and your intent," the witch woman said, focusing her gaze on her client. I could see the magic sparking in her green eyes, and my own rose up to meet it. Shit. I'd heard of sympathetic magics, as in two spellcasters whose power resonated with each other. But this was … I sucked in a sharp breath and met her eyes from across the room.

  "My ex, Tom Standen, is stalking me," the customer said, reaching up to rub at her sweaty forehead with the end of her sweater sleeve. "And my intent is for him to leave me alone—forever." She sniffled again and reached for a box of tissues on the spirit board coffee table.

  "Close your eyes," Graceley instructed, and the customer did as asked. "Do you wish him harm?"

  "No," the girl whispered as Graceley put her hands on the client’s shoulders.

  "These items you've brought me: this is a mix of his hair and yours?" The girl nodded. "And this is a picture of him?" Another nod. "And these roses are a symbol of your relationship?" One last nod.

  I curled my hands around the armrests of my chair, and fought the urge to lean toward them. Con hopped off my shoulder, taking up a spot next to my ankle to watch, his tail flicking in fascination. It was always interesting to watch someone outside of your own coven casting. It just wasn't something a witch saw very often.

  "Excellent." Graceley released the girl's shoulders, and then dipped her thumb into a chalky black paste, drawing a small pentagram on her customer's forehead.

  She then took the hair and some of the petals from the dried roses, grinding them up in a mortar and pestle she had waiting on her side of the table. I could her hear murmuring spellwords under her breath. They were so faint, I could hardly make them out. She added a few drops of essential oils, some crushed herbs, and then set the mixture on fire with a flick of a finger.

  "Open your eyes," she whispered, and the girl did, blinking in surprise at the flaming mortar full of sweet-smelling herbs. "Now light the picture on fire, and let it burn. You can drop it into this bucket when you're done." Graceley pushed over a metal bucket filled with spiced water. "And then blow out the flame on the mortar."

  The customer gave her a wary look, but did as she was asked, lighting the picture up and waiting until it was burnt up to her fingers before she tossed it.

  "I am safe; Tom is banished; I mean no harm." Graceley said, flicking her eyes over to me. She was enjoying this, putting on a show. I could feel her magic heady and thick in the air around us. And she was right: her signature was right there in front of me, written in the sweet scent of jasmine and lilac. It was like a goddamn trademark. "Repeat that after me."

  "I'm safe; Tom's banished; I mean no harm." The girl was hesitant at first, ruffling up her pink hair with her fingers. But then she repeated it again, and again, and again. The angrier she got, the brighter the magic in Graceley's eyes glowed. And then … the spell snapped into place and the candles flickered.

  "Holy shit," the customer said as Graceley smiled, offered up some wet wipes for her forehead, and then handed over a small glass bottle. There was no magic in that bottle at all; it was a placebo. Heh. The joy of working with humans. They never felt like they got their money's worth unless they got a goddamn trinket.

  Not surprising since most of them didn’t believe in us anyway, not even the ones that shopped here. Mostly, they came to shops like this out of desperation, or for Wiccan supplies. But Wiccans were just humans practicing a religion. To be a witch, you must be born one.

  "That should do it," Graceley said, rising to her feet and offering out a hand to her customer. The girl followed after, holding the tiny bottle close to her chest. "Just drink a sip of that once a day until it's gone."

  "That's it, really?" the girl asked as Graceley lead her out to the main part of the shop. I heard them chatting at the counter as the apprentice sneaked in and started to clean up, smudging the room with burning sage to cleanse it of any residual energy. She took the bucket, the mortar and pestle, and the charcoal paste away.

  "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help?" she asked, pointing at a wooden box on the counter. "That's all your stuff for the, uh, purple issue. The E.D. supplies should be here in a couple of days."

  "We need to sniff out a spell signature," Graceley said, popping her head back in the curtain. "Get me whatever we need, and bill the inventory on the Coven Apothecary account."

  "Will do, boss." The robed apprentice girl continued to clean up while I grabbed the wooden box and set it on the table, pulling out the supplies and realizing that Graceley had way overcompensated here. She had fucking everything but the kitchen sink.

  The bells on the front door jingled, and Graceley stepped back into the room with the spotted cat on her shoulders.

  "Graceley—" I started, but she cut me off, making me grit my teeth.

  "Call me Grace, please," she said, grabbing my bag off the floor and sitting down to go through the contents. I even brought my grandmother's tome, and I watched as she touched it with a respectful sort of reverence. Covens didn't mix, so magic from an opposing one was rare and precious. Lulu would kill me if she knew I brought that thing over here. "This is beautiful." She looked up at me, green eyes sparkling, and I swear to fuck, I felt like I'd been gut-punched. "The spell you used is in here?"

  I nodded and sat down on the side of the chaise lounge where Grace's vamp husband had been kneeling the day before. Goddess fuck! I shook that thought from my mind as the apprentice girl swept the floor with a spelled broom, and then gathered up the dust, pouring it into a jar and marking it with the date and time.

  Broom dust could be seriously powerful stuff.

  "Let's start with the signature," Grace said, as she handed the tome back to me. Her apprentice scurried back in with a gauzy bag full of spellcraft supplies and gave it to her boss. I waited in silence as Grace took out a bottle of black ink, a brush with coarse bristles, and some thin sheets of vellum.

  When she next looked up, I could see she was having a little trouble getting out whatever it was that she wanted to say.

  "You do know you're going to have to take your dick out, right?" she hedged, reaching up to adjust her hat. Bones and charms tinkled as I groaned and ran my fingers through my hair.

  "Fucking right," I said, exhaling and glancing down at my crotch. To be frank, I was starting to resent my unruly junk. This was getting ridiculous. "I might be, uh, hard as a friggin' rock. It's not intentional; I don't even like you."

  Grace let out a sudden, sharp burst of laughter, and spun her witch hat around on her head.

  "Feeling's mutual, friend," she said, unscrewing the cap on the ink and dipping the brush in. She blotted out the extra on one of the vellum sheets, and then squeezed the ivory handle, casting spellwords under her breath.

  "Sure," I said, reaching down and unzipping my pants. I never wore underwear, so as soon as the denim was undone, my dick was
springing out like he was happy to see the voluptuous witch-woman.

  Grace’s eyes widened into green saucers, and I could see her choking back a snort of laughter as she stared at my purple penis. “Mahou, lock the front doors, please.” With a snort, the apprentice chick scurried off, and Grace cleared her throat. "It is it just the shaft, or the balls, too?"

  I growled at her, and Grace laughed again, clamping a hand over her too-red mouth.

  "Just the shaft," I ground out, and she nodded, looking from my dick to my face. I licked my lower lip and glanced away. I didn't have to look at her for this spell, now did I? But fuck if I didn't feel the tension in the room.

  "Tell me about the spell you cast while I do this," she said, and even though I wasn't looking at her, I could hear her swallowing hard. There was this vibrant heat shimmering in the air, like our magic was calling out to each other. Made me want to scream. I better be careful to keep my temper or else my wings, horns and tail were likely to make an appearance. Happened once in a bar fight—a bar that was full of humans. Didn't go over particularly well.

  "I read the instructions in my grandmother's book, and I followed them to a T."

  "Except I told him the cheap knock-off petals he purchased at that other shop were not rose petals," Connard said, and both Grace and I looked down at him as he hopped onto the coffee table. Grace's weird cat jumped up beside him and they sniffed each other for a moment.

  Kinda pissed me off that it looked like her familiar could have mine for a snack. She was at least double his size, if not more.

  "What sorta cat is that anyway?" I asked, and then gasped as I felt warm liquid tickling the head of my shaft. And oh goddess, it felt good. It felt so damn good. I leaned back into the curve of the chaise and dug my fingers into the fabric.

  Keep your cool, keep your cool, Hex, I told myself, trying to think of the unsexiest shit I could manage. Earthworms, garbage dumps, roadkill. It didn't work, feeling that brush tickle its way across my dick was … holy hell, it was pure, delicious torture.

  I wanted more.

  I was almost afraid I was going to blow my load before Grace was finished.

  "The ink is done," she choked out, and I knew then that I wasn't the only one struggling with this moment. What would happen if she slid onto my lap, took me into her … fuck, I'll be a part of her harem if only—

  No.

  No, Hex!

  I cursed myself out, pinching my inner elbow with my nails and making myself bleed. The pain didn't help, not even a little. So I bit my tongue so hard it bled, too, looking up at the ceiling, painted in stars and spells and protection wards. I could feel that Passionate Potions and Seductive Spells was sitting on a massive ley line, offering it extra protection and boosting its defenses.

  Buuuuut, even thinking about boring shit like that did nothing for me.

  "You need to stop," I said, snapping my eyes open and reaching out for Grace's wrist. I grabbed it harder than I meant to, and she jumped. I released her right away and grimaced as I apologized. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. I might …"

  "It's alright," Grace told me, handing over the box of tissues. "But I need this spell signature. Just do your best, okay? Accidents happen." I took the tissues, and then I just stared at her for an indeterminate amount of time.

  "Shit," Grace cursed, shaking her head, and exhaling as she held out the sheet of vellum and wrapped it around my ink-covered shaft. I mean, I had tattoos on my dick, too, but they were impossible to see underneath the purple spell. The ink caused the paper to slide around as Grace took the imprint of the spell signature, and I … lost my shit.

  With a groan, I felt my body releasing weeks of tension as the orgasm took over me, pleasure shooting through my veins like fire. It almost hurt, it felt so damn good. As I was coming, I felt a sharp pain in my back.

  Oh shit.

  My skin split in two places, and I screamed a sound that was half-pleasure and half-pain. I managed to catch my cum, but I couldn't do anything about the blood that exploded from my back as my wings burst out, spattering the couch, ceiling, and walls.

  "Oh goddess' tits," Grace whispered, standing up as I doubled over in pain … and pleasure. I was still shuddering from the release—first orgasm I'd had in months—but I could also feel my split flesh and my fucking stupid-ass wings hanging limply behind my back. "Oh, Hex. Mahou!" she called out, and her assistant came running. "Get me some healing supplies, please."

  Grace put her hands on my back, and I felt this beautiful warmth surge through me, like I was being touched by a gods-damned angel. A sigh escaped me as I leaned over and let her work her magic, keeping my eyes closed until I felt a cool salve being rubbed across my skin and wings.

  And, fuck my life, since my wings were almost as sensitive as my dick, I damn near blew another load.

  "Why is he still clutching his dick for dear life?" a man's voice asked, snapping me out of my dazed state. I rubbed as much of the ink off my cock as I could with the tissues and then zipped up, turning around to find Grace and all three of her freaking husbands staring at me.

  My tiny, stupid demon wings felt cold and sticky and out of place.

  "He had a little accident while I was searching for the spell signature," Grace began as her werewolf-beau sniffed the air, amber eyes widening, nostrils flaring. I felt like I was maybe ten seconds away from having my ass kicked.

  "You came?!" the dirty-blonde Southern asshole roared, but he was held back by the other two.

  "You knew she'd have to touch it," the vampire explained, with that eerie calm of the undead. They were always so freaking chill … until they weren't and your throat was being ripped out. The other guy, the fae, was holding the werewolf in place as easily as he might hold back a puppy. "We talked about this last night."

  The werewolf guy shook off the other two men and stepped back, crossing his arms over his red wifebeater. The way he looked at me, it was a very clear get the fuck out.

  "Alright, I'm out of here," I said, but Grace stepped in front of me, blocking me in.

  "You're not going anywhere." She glanced over her shoulder at her husbands, giving them a harsh look. I could see her face in the mirror on the far wall. I could see my wings, too, these stupid orange little bat wings, no bigger than a couch cushion. If I left them alone, they'd grow to an impressive thirty-foot wingspan. But I never did. "We have a spell to fix; this is part of our deal." She held up the mark on her wrist, and then turned back to look at me. "Let's cure the purple on your dick. Guys, if you could get the demon blood off my walls?"

  She gave her husbands a coy look, complete with batted eyelashes, and my heart leapt into my throat. Fuck. I couldn't help but wonder what it might be like for a woman to look at me like that.

  I turned away and sat back down on the chaise, in a puddle of my own blood.

  Didn't really matter. It was all over the place anyhow.

  "Show me your spell," Grace said, her hat tipping low over her emerald eyes as she sorted through the items I'd brought with me. She pushed them all aside until she got to the bottle that'd held the crystallized rose petals. Popping the cork, she held it to her nose and gave it a quick sniff.

  "Hey, Bast," she said, and her familiar padded over, flattening its rounded ears against its skull. "What does this smell like to you?"

  "Pansies," the spotted cat said, sitting down and curling her tail around her legs. "Most definitely."

  "Pansies?" I asked, and I heard the werewolf give a gruff laugh just before I felt an ice-cold rag slam into the back of my neck. I whipped it off and gave him a little snarl. He snarled right back at me.

  "You're welcome, asshole," he drawled, smirking as he took another rag and started scrubbing the wall. I ignored him and turned back to his wife.

  "How the fuck did I mistake a pansy for a rose? They're purple, right?" I asked, gritting my teeth and trying to ignore that werewolf fucker.

  "Probably a color mix
, with red, purple, goddess knows what else. Pansies come in all sorts of colors." Grace sighed, and set the bottle aside. "Pansies can be substituted for roses, and vice versa, about … seventy-five percent of the time. Sometimes lazy shop owners sell pansies labelled as roses."

  "Pansy dick," the werewolf snickered from behind me, and I ground my teeth together to keep myself from going after him.

  "So can we fix this?" I asked, and Grace nodded, reaching up to grab a tiny glass bottle full of dirt that was hanging from her hat.

  "You're lucky we're so well-stocked." She gave me a very severe look that I'll admit had me shifting in my seat. If I'd had her order the rose petals in the first place … Shit, I was an asshole. And a douche. I was aware of my own shortcomings. "I got that shipment in of rose petals you were so upset about. And, I have all the colors. We'll need purple roses to fix this. Argent?"

  "Your wish is my command," the fae purred, his voice this cold, slide of fingers across the back of my neck. I shivered and looked back at him. He wasn't even wearing a gods-damned glamour, just sauntering around with silver skin, and green hair, and charcoal gray eyes. He disappeared for a moment, taking his weird floral fae smell with him.

  Grace took a fresh mortar and pestle—a wooden one this time—and started mixing ingredients, using many of the items I'd brought with me. When she was done, she put it all in a tiny cauldron, warmed it up with a flick of her flaming finger, and stirred the cast-iron spoon with magic.

  While we waited for the rest of the ingredients, she read over my grandmother's book, made some notes on a sheet of paper, and glanced over at me.

  "I can't guarantee this'll work. It might be a bit of trial and error." I nodded, but I didn't say anything. I'd made enough of an ass out of myself in front of this family as it was. I could not wait to get the fuck out of here, maybe go play some pool with Angelina. Anything but more of this nightmare.

  As hot as Grace was, as much as her magic called to mine, I knew I was making the smart decision in staying away from this family. For the life of me, I couldn't imagine being tied to that werewolf fuck for the rest of my life.