10 Ways to Coerce a Stubborn Curse, page 1
Copyright © 2019 by Virginia Nelson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Robyn Peterman to use the copyrighted characters and/or worlds created by Robyn Peterman in this book. All copyright protection to the original characters and/or worlds of the Magic and Mayhem series is retained by Robyn Peterman.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
10 Ways to Coerce a Stubborn Curse: Magic and Mayhem Univers (The Cursed Quartet)
For all the stories, go to | https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com | Grab your copy today!
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
To check out all the side-splitting books in the Magic and Mayhem Universe, go to
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Foreward
Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!
I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.
What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?
Well, let me explain...
It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you...the results are hilarious!
So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!
For all the stories, go to
https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com
Grab your copy today!
Dedication
For Ploots
Acknowledgements
Thanks to the Work family for feeding me and tolerating my babbling about imaginary people while I wrote this one.
As always, thanks to my wonderful kids for being awesome.
But most importantly, thanks so very much to Robyn Peterman. I had so much fun writing this and can’t begin to thank you enough for your friendship. You’re amazing!!!
Got magic?
JACKIE WILSON WAS BORN cursed, but her curse changed somewhere along the way. When she became a siren, forced to feed off the very thoughts of those who were her prey, she also ended up with a soul mate—one perfectly designed by the universe to fulfil her every need without hurting anyone.
But it never seemed fair to Jackie—why was he trapped in a soul mate bond he’d never asked for? So, while solving various disasters and taking on local monsters, she’s trying to find a way to free her soul mate and save her town. If any witch can find a way around an unbreakable curse, it has got to be Jackie, right?
Chapter One
Hiya, my name is Jackie, and I’m cursed.
Figured that was a good way to start things off—just put it out there and go from there. See, I’ve been cursed my whole life, but it is only recently that I’ve found a way to put that curse to good use. Secretively, of course, but still... useful.
Long story short, I was born cursed. My whole family was, to be honest. My mother was one of the pureborn Taradiddle witches, but she had the audacity to fall in love with a human. Her family was bitter about this dilution of their otherwise long line of inbred—cough cough—I mean pure magical line. Because of this, they cursed my mother to have no magic so long as she was married to my father. This curse translated itself, as they sometimes do, down to their children—me and my brothers.
One of my brothers got married to a witch and everyone thought he’d killed his bride by draining her magic away... because she died shortly after the birth of their gorgeous niece Emmie. The other brother married a witch who wasn’t afraid of the curse.
Me? I’ve stayed single because I wasn’t messing with that nonsense. Well, I stayed single til recently. Recently, I managed to somehow compound my curse. Originally, I just had no magic of my own...but I met this guy who said he knew a way I could get my powers back.
I found it comical, honestly. I never actually had my supposed birthright of powers, so I wasn’t hyped, so to speak, about retrieving something I’d never had to miss in the first place.
Bing, bang, boom, zip and I got cursed again. This time, I got cursed by a siren. Instead of getting my own powers back, I got some of hers.
Sirens are...er, pretty odd. Everyone knows that the song of a siren can make a man go mad, but what is in it for the siren? Neurons, baby. That magical electricity that transfers thought in the brain. They literally are powered by thought, and now I crave brain power. Zombie? No, I don’t eat brains. Just the electricity that powers thought.
Anyway, fast forward a bit more and I’m theoretically in a relationship with Dexter, this guy who is basically just primordial muck or something. Fate said we were soul mates, intended to be together, but... I’m still feeling a little tied into a relationship that the guy never actually said he wanted to be in with me.
Needless to say, it isn’t an ideal situation.
Just now, I’m using my curse to my advantage, even if that usage seemed beyond questionable. Blood rushed to my face as my feet hit the pavement in steady thuds of noise. Jogging down the street clothed in what was very nearly negligee would embarrass anyone, probably, but I still hoped that anyone who saw me would think strain caused the flush of color that had to be staining my cheeks.
Chasing after the bad guy cost no real effort on my part, so it wasn’t actually added blood flow to my face making me blush. Stamina and speed were some of the newfound benefits of being a magical hybrid monster thing. I hoped my backup would show up soon, however. The one thing we had noticed about my newish powers was that I was similar to a cheetah. I had great, almost fantastic, bursts of speed with, as I said, little to no effort on my part.
After the initial sprint, though, I started burning energy, and when I burned energy, it had to be replaced. Replacing energy for me involved more than taking a nap or snacking on a protein bar.
As it was late at night in rural West Virginia, no one in Assjacket took notice of us, which was good because, had it been daytime, well, it would have been another story entirely.
For one thing, it was still winter. It was finally warming up some, but as I had been drawn from my bed, I was still not dressed to be running full tilt through the streets. Winter clung to the hills of West Virginia like a lover long past when the romance had died out for most of its inhabitants.
Aside from my inappropriate dress, the person, if you wanted to call him that, was half hairy.
My backup chose just then to pop into place in front of the were-puppy. He wasn’t dressed much more suitably than me, but from my point of view, hey, I wasn’t complaining.
Dexter wore the boxer briefs I had gotten him for Christmas. They were almost as bright a red as his hair. Over the underoos, he wore a fuzzy and pink robe. The robe was Rhoda’s, grabbed on the fly from the bathroom back at Ma’s Place. Like I said, we hadn’t planned on going out. Still, as he popped into place in front of the half man, his robe flashed open and his hair flared out, and I was rewarded with a full-frontal view of him that made me stop jogging and grin.
Ah, it is good to be me.
In my head, he said, Could you concentrate on business and stop ogling me?
I replied, You like to be ogled.
He grinned a particularly evil grin, which to our prey probably seemed directed at him as Dex’s eyes had never left the out of control Shifter.
While the Shifter eyed my lover, I slid up behind him and began to sing softly.
We had the routine down pretty well after months of working together. It was getting pretty monotonous, honestly. I wrapped my arms gently around the Shifter, who had gone nearly limp upon hearing my voice, and I snaked my palms up his coarsely haired arms. I enjoyed his musk and tasted his power. It wasn’t bad. Shifters had a live sort of energy that was appealing, but I preferred a different sort of energy these days.
I slid my eyes up and met those of the man in the pink and smiled.
He grinned back at me.
He stepped up in front of the Shifter and caught us both in his arms. In moments, we stood in another room. This one was warm, thankfully, but smelled worse of were musk and blood and other things better not examined too carefully.
Dexter stepped back, and I released the newly made were to drop to his knees. The leader of the pack stood a few feet away.
Kiera was a bitch. This w
asn’t an insult. She was proud to be the bitch of the local biker gang of werewolves. Usually, when one thought werewolves, one thought alphadog. Not so for this biker gang. She had made it to the top by being tougher than any of the males. Her hope was that one day someone, in this case someone male, would be bigger and badder than her. So far, well, she was the biggest badass our town had in fur on a motorcycle. I liked her.
She’d called me tonight because someone had turned this little guy on our side of town. Somehow or another, he wound up loose and alone, causing trouble. This kind of thing was my specialty, at least since what we liked to call “The Accident.” Lately, Kiera had her hands full. Something was rotten in the biker end of the Shifter community. We were all doing double time to try to stay on top of whatever it was to keep it out of the attention of those who ran Assjacket.
It was even causing trouble for the fairies... or something was.
But that was another story, and just now Kiera was looking over the wayward puppy.
“How do you two catch them so fast? I just called you,” she murmured.
I shrugged and figured that this was one of the questions that we didn’t answer. There was sort of a list of questions that Dexter and I just didn’t answer. It seemed to keep me healthy, so we went with that.
I looked at Dexter and yawned broadly. It was my idea of a hint. I never did get subtle down. We had been busy before the call had come in. That was why we were dressed so... well, that was why we weren’t dressed.
Lately there had been little to no time for us.
It seemed the more responsibility we took on, the less time there was for us.
I can’t say as I liked this change.
Especially since things had seemed to begin to change between us.
Kiera shrugged it off and Dexter, who had been a man of few words for a while now, came to my side and said, “Night, Kiera.”
“Hmm,” she replied, and Dexter popped us out of there.
We landed back in my bedroom. I had gotten almost blasé about Dexter’s mode of transportation, even if I still wasn’t sure how he did it. I could feel energy crackling down his skin.
I sighed and slid out of his arms and stalked back to the glass of wine I’d abandoned when I had gotten the call earlier. I looked at my cell, still sitting where I left it. Then I did something I rarely did lately.
I hit the button and turned it off.
I turned to him, wine in hand, and saw he’d dropped the borrowed robe to the floor.
Candlelight lit the room. In only boxer briefs, his body became all peaches and cream. A light dusting of the auburn curls trailed down to disappear into his briefs like a line drawn on a map... all he was missing was the x to mark where the treasure was hidden.
His curls, the ones on his head, had grown longer since I had met him a year before. The silky red hair brushed his shoulders now. When he held me, it brushed over my skin and added yet another bit, another layer of texture, to be enjoyed about him. My own hair hung in fat red curls to my chin. I brushed the curls back as they crossed my mind and continued my silent study.
With his head bowed, the muscles in his neck and shoulders stood in stark relief in the flickering light. I sighed out a breath because the man was so damn beautiful to me. I watched his fist clench.
It made a single muscle ripple up his arm.
I wondered at how you could think a man beautiful... even his feet.
I understood, too, the fist. He knew we were going to have a talk.
Candles and wine and the whisper of the night surrounded us. With me in lingerie and him wrapped in shadows, only Dexter and me would ruin such a romantic setting. Even if our minds were so close, near enough that we knew our only shared wish was to be wrapped in each other’s flesh, we would instead be having a meaningful discussion.
I sighed.
We were warped like that.
I sat and smoothed my hands down my thighs. After a glance down at the confection of black and silver satin and lace I wore, I wondered why we bothered.
Dexter and I had been together for months, all of them reasonably smooth sailing. I touched the promise ring on my finger. We had been happy—lovers and friends in a way that I had never hoped to share with anyone.
He had been what I had always hoped to find.
Which is, I think, my primary objection to the entire thing.
Not to say that he and I never fought. We fought. We yelled at the top of our lungs. We yelled in our minds at decibels that only we could hear but were no less deafening by their silence. We found ways to fight that probably we had invented.
We also made up in ways that we probably invented.
We had made love in positions we probably invented.
He had been... perfect.
But I’m Jackie Wilson, of the cursed Wilson family.
I’m not perfect. I never will be.
The more perfect for me he managed to be; the surer I became that I was doing something very, very wrong. And since time was passing, well, he and I were finding ways to get around each other.
Dexter and I got tied together a few months back in a soul mate thing. Something ties the two of us together—soul mate strands, we’ve been calling them. We had no choice in their creation, but we accidentally made them stronger. Now we’re tied together, soul to soul. Via this link, he can see into my mind and I into his. But since we have gotten more...comfortable, so to speak, in each other’s skins, we have found that constant saturation was too much. So, we’ve found ways to construct barriers over bits of ourselves. Walls, so to speak.
Ways to keep each other out of pieces that we would rather keep to ourselves.
For instance, I hid my insecurities. Niggling bits of thought like my nearly constant worry that he is just stuck with me because he wasn’t given another option. Also on the list is my worry over what he thinks about being tied to me.
I have not tried to “peek” into those bits of his mind. For months.
I’d say my superpower in this case was making space where I didn’t want there to be space. I’ve been diligently crafting a wall of silence while not talking to him about what was bothering me.
Tonight would probably be full of words rather than sighs.
He had yet to move. It seemed the more walls I constructed to keep him out of my mind, the more quiet he got. The usually chatty man became the strong silent type practically overnight. I can’t say as I like the change. I stood and faced him, swirling the wine in my glass, because I still wasn’t ready to actually look at him.
“You said that you wanted to talk,” I murmured.
If I threw the ball into his court, maybe he wouldn’t discuss the things I wanted to avoid talking about, right?
I saw his feet come into range and the glass was gently removed from my hand.
“Since when did you like wine?” he asked.
I looked up at him, surprised. He took a long drink from the glass before he handed it back. “I like wine,” I defended.
“I always thought you preferred Corona,” he replied.
I shrugged and considered the glass.
“You only pull out the wine when you want to distract me. Also, you only pull out the stops for a romantic evening when you want to distract me... like when you pick up on the fact I want to talk to you from my mind.”
I looked at the glass again. Anything was better than meeting his questioning gaze.
He took the glass again.
He swirled the liquid, and I felt need build as easily as the dark fluid in the glass circled the sides.
“You still don’t want to talk about it?”
I bit my lip.
“Months, Jackie. We have been together months. We are happy. I know I’m happy, at least. Are you happy?”
It was a straightforward question. I didn’t answer, instead allowing myself the pleasure of meeting his eyes. What would I do if he took those shining eyes away from me?
I touched his cheek and realized I was terrified of losing him. The depth of that feeling terrified me. I brushed his hair back from his face and hid it all, as I was getting very good at doing. The warmth of his body at this distance called to me.
