Chasing Magic: A Reverse Harem Series (Capturing Magic Book 2) Page 9

  I’m not very trustful, especially with creatures I don’t know, so it takes a lot of effort for me to lift my foot over the threshold and step inside that room. The moment I do, I know I’m putting almost all my trust in the innkeeper I barely spoke to.

  Please don’t let this be a mistake.

  Once I enter the room, I close the door and assess the small space. No windows. Barely any furniture, other than a bed and an old, rotting armoire. The sight of it, though, gives me a tinge of hope that perhaps this is going to work out in my favor.

  “Stop being so nervous and take off your clothes,” the elf demands as he unbuttons his shirt. Then he moves to the button on his pants. “How about I introduce you to Mr. Tinkles? Maybe that’ll relax you.”

  “Why would that relax me?” I question, loathing how nervous I feel.

  “Because you’ll get excited when you see it,” he purrs, unfastening the button on his slacks.

  Oh gods, is this really happening? Is this really going to be my first experience at seeing a penis?

  No, don’t let it get that far.

  Think, Harlynn! Get yourself out of this mess!

  I glimpse around the room, frantically searching for a way out, and my gaze centers on a lantern dangling from a wall hook. With enough force, it might be heavy enough to knock the elf out. But before I attempt to pull my ninja stunt, I need to have him distracted.

  “Wait,” I say as the elf starts to unzip his pants.

  He freezes but doesn’t remove his fingers from the zipper. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. And if you have, tough shit because we’re doing this anyway.”

  There are so many, many things I want to say in that moment, but I swallow down those words—for now—and focus on my plan.

  “I’m not backing out,” I say in the most innocent tone I can muster. “I just want to know your name first. It might help me be less nervous.”

  He promptly shakes his head and unzips the zipper. “No names.”

  “Just your first name?” I ask while tracing my finger along my collarbone. “So I know what to shout out when you’re fucking the shit out of me.” Yeah, it physically pains me to say the last part without dry heaving, but I somehow manage.

  His gaze drops to my chest and desire floods his eyes. “I guess I could do that for you, little lamb.” His gaze locks with mine as he sticks his hand down the front of his pants. “You can call me Yellow.”

  “Your name is Yellow?” I question with doubt.

  He nods, touching himself. “I was named that because Mr. Tinkles has this—”

  “It’s a really nice name,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest of his story. “And knowing it makes me so much more comfortable.” Sucking in a shaky breath, I reach behind me and start loosening the ribbons on my corset.

  Grinning, he stands up and pulls down his pants, struggling a bit to take them off.

  Seizing the opportunity, I reach up, snatch the lantern off the wall, and spin around, preparing to throw it at him, but he’s already in front of me.

  He grabs ahold of my arm. “Yeah, you didn’t think I saw you eyeballing that, did you?” he sneers, prying my fingers off the handle of the lantern. The lantern crashes to the floor a second later.

  He’s stronger than I thought

  “I’m tired of playing your little games,” the elf snaps, then shoves me backward onto the bed.

  I scramble to get up, but he climbs on top of me and pins my arms down beside my head. He’s pant-less, and I can feel his slimy skin touching me almost everywhere.

  “Get off me!” I seethe, thrashing my body around. But he barely budges, his grip on my wrists tightening.

  “You thought you had me so played, didn’t you? Thought you could just push me around because I’m an elf.” He leans down until his lips are a mere inch away from mine. “Newsflash, little lamb. I’m not a normal elf. If I was, I wouldn’t have been assigned to work for Chasing Magic Industries and sent to track down Asher, East, and Arrow.”

  Chasing Magic Industries? What is that?

  I could ask him, but I’m a bit distracted with getting him off me before Mr. Tinkles touches my leg.

  “Fuck you!” I shout, stabbing my fingernails into his hands.

  He only laughs in my face. Then he slams his lips against mine as he reaches down between us to do gods know what. I think I have a pretty good idea when I hear the sound of my skirt tearing.

  I gag against the rotting taste of him and the feel of his fingernails scratch a path up my thigh. Panic chokes my throat, smothering me as he grinds against me. But beneath the fear, rage storms through me.

  Controlled. All my life I’ve been controlled by a paranormal. Even when I lived on the streets, I was controlled by Five Smoke Magic’s rules.

  Control.

  Control.

  Control.

  Will I ever be free—

  The rage building inside me bursts and unleashes, my power waving over the room. But it doesn’t make the ground quiver like I anticipated. No. Instead, the metal bars of the headboard uncurl and snake toward Yellow, wrapping around his arms and legs and jerking him off me.

  “What in the worlds?” he gasps out as the bars drag him off the bed and onto the floor.

  I scramble to the side of the bed and watch with wide eyes as the bars cocoon around him, starting at his feet and working their way up his body.

  “Get these things off of me—”

  A bar winds around his mouth.

  A slow smile spreads across my face as I rise to my feet. “Man, that looks really uncomfortable.”

  His eyes narrow as he tries to worm free, but he can barely move.

  My grin broadens and grows when I note a small gap between the bars right where his Mr. Tinkles is.

  Lifting my foot, I stomp down on it, and his eyes bulge as he lets out a muffled scream.

  I smile in satisfaction, but part of it is all bravado. Deep down, I’m shaken and feel sick to my stomach. The taste of his lips on mine is branded into my mind like a hot iron against flesh.

  “Remember this the next time you try to put your hands on someone without their permission. Remember what it feels like to be tied up against your will and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” I crouch down beside him. “It’s a sucky feeling, right? The helplessness.” I place my hand on his forehead and pierce my fingernails into his flesh.

  I’m not even positive why I do it, other than to maybe mark him like he marked my mind with this awful moment. Hopefully, he’ll have scars on his forehead, and every time he looks in the mirror, he’ll be reminded of this. If I were the killing type, I just might do that. But I’m not.

  Instead, I stand upright, cross the room, and drag the armoire away from the wall.

  Just like the innkeeper said, there is a tunnel hidden behind it, but if it leads to the alleyway, I’m unsure. It’s too dark inside for me to be able to tell.

  Usually, I plan my escapes better than this, but I don’t have a choice this time. It’s either go out this way or try to sneak past L at the front entrance.

  So, summoning a deep breath, I step into the darkness, hoping the innkeeper wasn’t lying about where the tunnel leads.

  Chapter 7

  Turns out, the innkeeper was being truthful, and only a handful of seconds later, I’m stepping out into the shadows of an alleyway. I waste no time getting the hell away from that inn and hightailing it down the street in the direction East and Arrow were heading in last time I was with them.

  I can feel creatures watching me as I powerwalk, but I keep my head tucked down and try to ignore them, only glancing up to check around for the Arch. Eventually, I spot it curving from the streets and arching toward the sky like a giant horseshoe.

  I quicken up my pace, and within a matter of minutes, I’m standing right beside the Arch.

  Up close, it’s massive and glints like starlight against the glimmering sunlight. I also notice it arches over a bronzed do
med building that has a stage stretching across the space of land in front. An iron gate encloses the area, and the longest line of paranormals I’ve ever seen is formed in front of the entrance.

  “Holy crazy trolls,” I mumble as I take in the line. It has to be at least a couple of miles long, and all the paranormals standing in it look as crazed as the ones East, Arrow, and I passed while we were walking through the city. “Are all these creatures here to see Asher, East, and Arrow?”

  I soon get my answer as everyone begins chanting, “Ash East Arrow! Ash East Arrow! Ash East Arrow!”

  Awesome. How am I supposed to get past all these creatures? Because I’m not standing in this line. However, I know firsthand that security is going to be complicated to get by.

  “Gods, I can’t believe they’re late,” a vampire decked out in a leather dress and studded jewelry mumbles as she shoves by me, dashing toward the line. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  Another vampire wearing leather and studs shoves by me. This time, I shove her back, annoyed. She shoots me a nasty look before hurrying after her friend.

  “I hope nothing bad happened to them,” she tells her friend, hugging a notebook to her chest. “Especially Asher.” She lets out a blissful sigh that makes me roll my eyes.

  So, the guys are late to their little PA thingy. Why? I guess I’ll find out when I sneak backstage, because that’s going to happen. I just need a plan.

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I observe the streets, the line, and the gates. Then my gaze locks on an area located at the side of the building where a group of uniformed paranormals are standing. Security, I presume, which means that’s where the entrance to backstage is.

  Cracking my knuckles, I walk toward it, figuring I’ll start with giving security my name and cross my fingers I’m on the backstage access list. If not, I’ll have to come up with a better plan.

  I slow to a stop as my gaze drops to my torn skirt and the scratch marks covering my legs. I look like a prostitute who just had sex in a graveyard. Not to mention the skirt is torn so high that I’m nearly flashing everyone. But a wardrobe malfunction is an easy fix. All I need is something to cover up with.

  So, as I pass by a faerie sporting an indigo cloak, I snag it off her.

  “Hey, what the heck?” She whirls around, scanning the paranormals around her as I slip into the crowd.

  Once I get the cloak on, I shove my way through groups of paranormals and up to the side entrance. Truthfully, I doubt my name is going to be on that list, so imagine my surprise when a polished cyborg waves me through before I even say my name.

  “Harlynn Merringten, right?” he asks but doesn’t wait for me to answer before grabbing my arm and plucking me from the crowd. Then he marches toward a set of metal doors, motioning for me to follow. “Everyone’s been searching for you.”

  “Um …” I shuffle after him, highly aware all of security is eyeballing me. “Wait. How do you know who I am?”

  He glances over his shoulder at me as he wraps his fingers around one of the door handles. “Asher, East, and Arrow have everyone looking for you. They handed out a picture from the database and are even offering a reward. Not that I can actually accept it. My master won’t allow it.”

  There’s that word again …

  “Why’re they looking for me?” I lower the hood of my cloak. “They’re the ones who left me.”

  His coppery brows crinkle. “That’s not what I was told.” He yanks open the door. “Come on; I need to get you to them. They’ve been refusing to go out and sign autographs until you’re found. And things are starting to get really out of hand out there.” He swings his hand at the line of paranormals that are now chanting, “Hurry up! Hurry up! We want Ash East Arrow now or we’ll tear the place down!”

  “They seem like lovely fans,” I say sarcastically as I step inside the building.

  The cyborg offers me a mechanical smile, and then his gadgets buzz to life as he hikes down the metal-lined hallway trimmed with steel doors and bronzed lighting. I trail after him, basking in the quiet atmosphere. But about halfway down, that peaceful silence turns into full-blown chaos.

  “I don’t give a shit if they want me to go out!” Asher shouts. “I’m not doing it until we find her!”

  His raging voice is echoed by a loud crash, then smoke funnels from underneath a door.

  “Sounds like a genie is having a tizzy tantrum,” I utter, confusion flowing through me.

  Is Asher talking about me? This makes no sense. Why would East and Arrow ditch me only for Asher to worry about me?

  The cyborg gives me a strange look as he stops in front of the door where the smoke is funneling from. “You’re very brave to say something snarky about a genie while you’re in earshot of him.”

  “Want to know a little secret?” I ask then raise my voice. “Asher is a total softy”

  The shouting stops.

  A hum of a gadget later, the door is swung open and Asher steps through the doorway. He’s dressed in black jeans and no shirt, his tattoos and scars visible. He slams to a stop when his smoky gaze lands on me. He blinks several times, not saying a word, simply staring at me.

  The longer he stares with fire blazing in his eyes, the more I squirm. The worst part, though, is how crazily my heart leaps in my chest, like a cracked-out unicorn that just found out they can make rainbows.

  Oh, shut the hell up, heart. You don’t want to go there. Neither does Asher. And remember the curse!

  “So, I heard you guys were looking for me,” I break the silence, crossing my arms and feeling very self-conscious.

  That self-consciousness only amplifies when Asher’s gaze tracks down my body and zeroes in on the scratch marks on my legs. The muscles in his jaw spasm as he reaches for me. With how intense he looks, I expect him to grab me, but he gently wraps his fingers around my wrist and carefully pulls me into a very nicely decorated room.

  A hologram hangs on the far back, dark red wall, the screen showing the view of outside. The domed ceiling is painted with shimmering gold stars, a long table covered with food and drinks runs along the side wall, and a guitar is perched in the corner. Covering the floor, though, is what looks like shattered glass, probably from the crash I just heard. And beside the glass is a leather sofa where a curvy woman is sitting. She has her legs crossed, her blonde hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and her purplish-blue eyes are assessing me with disdain.

  Wait. Is this an aftershow woman …?

  “Maple, get out,” Asher orders as he tows me across the room with him.

  Maple? The half-genie, half-faerie who’s related to Asher and, more importantly, Asher’s father?

  I stiffen, my mind racing with conflicted thoughts on whether to get the flying wizards out of here or not. Part of me really wants to leave and get away from this genie. On the other hand, after spending some time alone on this planet, I’m not too eager to go back out there on my own. Then again, I’ll eventually have to woman-up if I want to continue with my plan of finding the Steel books by myself.

  “Now,” Asher warns when Maple stays put.

  Maple’s eyes enlarge, but she quickly collects herself, smoothing her hands across her skirt and straightening her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s to lead you out onto that stage.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you.” Asher snatches up a glass filled with amber liquid and takes a long sip. Then he slams the glass down and, grasping my hand, spins toward Maple, who hasn’t budge. “Don’t make me curse you. Remember, you work for me, not the other way around.”

  Normally, I’d be making all sorts of remarks about Asher’s very genie-like temper at the moment, but I really want Maple to leave, so I keep my trap shut.

  She glares at me like this is all my fault. “Fine.” She stands up, adjusting the bottom of her dress. “I’ll go round up East and Arrow and let them know you’re little”—she crinkles her nose at me—“pet, or whatever the heck she is, has been found.”

&nb
sp; “I’m not a pet,” I protest, putting a hand on my hip.

  She smirks, flipping her hair off her shoulder. “That’s what all the groupies say.”

  “I’m not a groupie or a pet. And you’re the one who’s obeying Asher, so who’s the pet?” I let a sassy grin spread across my face.

  Smoke funnels in her eyes as she fists her hands at her sides. “How dare you talk to me like that—”

  “You will not touch Harlynn. If you do, I’ll curse you with the darkest of curses,” Asher warns in an eerily low tone, eliciting a shiver from me. “Now get out before I have security come remove you.”

  Maple blinks, the smoke in her eyes fizzling. “But I—”

  “Now,” he cuts her off, releasing my hand and storming toward her.

  Gritting her teeth, she reels around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Asher frees a deafening exhale, the stiffness in his lean shoulders loosening. “I think East is right. We need to fire her.”

  “But she seems so lovely.” Sarcasm seeps through my voice.

  Asher gradually turns toward me, his eyes smoldering as he drags his gaze down my body to my legs. I expect him to ask about the scratches, so I’m thrown for a turn when he strides toward me, stealing the distance between us in the snap of a wish, and seals his lips to mine.

  I gasp as he parts my lips with his tongue and slips it into my mouth while moving his hands to the small of my back.

  Clutching his arms, I start to push away from him, but as the taste of sparkling wishes, dark curses, and warm cupcakes flood my mouth, I pull him closer, clinging to him and allowing his lips to erase some of the memory of Yellow’s kiss.

  Asher groans, sliding his hands to my hips then down to my thighs. “Et solicitus fui. Damnare tam anxius fui. Non possum facere quod semper iterum,” he mutters between kisses.

  “What the heck … does that … mean?” I gasp between kisses and trying to breathe, but he only deepens the kiss, pulling me closer.

  A moan escapes me, and I lift my leg to climb up him, craving something I can’t quite understand. Then, gripping my legs, he guides me away and breaks the connection of our lips.