her stomach, lingering, licking . . . “Uh, can we put a rush order on that potion?”
Glory unlocked her door with a quietly muttered “Open” and a wave of her delicate hand. Instantly the thin slab of wood creaked open. They stepped inside the room.
Genevieve’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She rarely ventured in there and was momentarily shocked by the total chaos. Clothes and empty food cartons were scattered all over the floor, a sea of reds, blues, greens, and sweet and sour chicken orange.
“I need a minute,” Glory said, already tossing shoes and other items aside as she scrounged through the mess.
“No, you need a maid.” She pinched the 38D bra hanging from the lampshade between her fingers before dropping it on top of the matching panties at her feet.
“I’ve been depressed and haven’t cleaned. Big deal.” Pause. “Ah-ha! I found you, you little sneak.” Smiling, Glory jumped up. A red bottle dangled from her fingers. “Love potion number thirteen.”
Genevieve frowned. “I want love potion number nine.”
“Trust me. Nine sucks. You want to ride a man like a bronco at peak rodeo season, you go with thirteen.”
“I’ll take it.” Genevieve grabbed the crimson container and gently rolled it between her fingers. Dark liquid swirled inside, mesmerizing her. This was it, the answer to her prayers. Her heart drummed in her chest, faster, faster, then skipped a beat. This innocent-looking bottle was about to gift her with the best night of her life. Eager to begin, she reached for the cork, but her sister’s next words stilled her hand.
“Drink half just before you walk into the bar, not a moment sooner. Only half. Understand?” Urgency rang from her voice like a clarion of bells.
“Yes. Why?”
“Uh, hello. You’ll have every man in Mysteria following you and fighting for your attention if you drink it now. And the full bottle will cause . . . too much passion in you. Now go. Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Genevieve needed no further prompting. “I love you.” She kissed her sister’s cheek and raced to her room. Quickly she changed into the sluttiest outfit she possessed. A black dress with a V neck so low it nearly touched her navel. The hem dangled mere inches below the curve of her ass. A little uncomfortable with the amount of skin showing, she slipped on a pair of tall hooker boots that hit just above her knees.
She left her hair down, the brunette tresses hanging along the curve of her back in sexy disarray. She spritzed jasmine perfume between her breasts and swiped fuck-me-hard red gloss over her lips. There. Done.
After grabbing a quarter, she grabbed her broom and skipped outside. Flying would be faster than driving. A cool night breeze kissed every inch of visible flesh—and boy, was there a lot of it. Amid the romantic haze of moonlight, insects sang a welcoming chorus, interspersed prettily with the buzz of fairy wings. Once she’d settled on top of the skinny broom handle, careful to cover her butt so she didn’t moon the entire town, she commanded the contraption to fly.
“High, high my stead will soar. Touch the ground we shall no more.” As the words left her mouth, the broom inched higher and higher into the air, then sped forward, moving faster than any car. Long tendrils of dark hair whipped her face, slapping her cheeks. Plumes of pink pollen whizzed past her, leaving behind an erotic scent.
When the lights of the town square came into view, framed by towering, majestic snowcapped mountains, she lowered and slowed. She stopped at the One-Stop Mart and bought a package of condoms from the pink-haired kid at the register. Outside, she popped back onto her broom and stuffed several foil wrappers in her dress.
Ever upward she soared again, past the tall pines. Whitewashed wooden buildings, dirt roads, and friendly people came into view, each weirder than the next. Psychics, vampires, trolls, fairies—Mysteria turned no one away.
As she flew over the town’s wishing well, a lovely arching marble structure that glittered in the moonlight, she swooped low and dropped her quarter inside. “Let tonight be exciting,” she said, wanting the wish to come true with every fiber of her being. Wisps of magic ribboned in the air, curling into the sky, making her shiver. She grinned.
Soon Knight Caps entered her line of vision, the tall stone structure bursting with people, laughter, and gyrating music. She slowed. Her heart raced when she finally stopped at the side of the building. Her palms began to sweat as she hovered, hidden by the shadows. What if Hunter was somehow able to resist the potion? She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. What if she failed to attract him? What if—
Her teeth ground together. No. No thoughts of failure. Not tonight. Tonight wishes came true.
Stiffening her shoulders, she hopped to the ground. Her broom fell with a thump. Already she could sense Hunter’s presence inside. His warm essence swirled around her, layered with a subtle fragrance of sex appeal and man. With shaky fingers, she studied the bottle one last time, only then seeing the warning label on the side.
“May cause dizziness,” she read. “This drug may impair the ability to drive or operate machinery. Use care until you become familiar with its effects. Seek medical attention if liquid comes into contact with eyes.”
Nothing she couldn’t handle, she thought, popping the bottle’s cork. “Bottom’s up, Evie.” She drained the contents. If half would make Hunter love her for a night, just think of what the full bottle could do. There was no such thing as too much passion. The bitter liquid tasted foul on her tongue, and she felt its quick descent into her stomach. Burning, burning. So hot. She coughed and doubled over. Her blood boiled, setting fire to everything inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to scream, but no sound emerged.
Thankfully the burning soon faded as if it had never been.
Blinking, Genevieve straightened and took stock of her physical being. She didn’t
A small part of her expected everything male to attack her as her gaze searched the room for Hunter. No one paid her any heed. Where was—her heartbeat skidded to a stop. There he was. Behind the bar. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He was serving drinks to a twittering, giggling fairy threesome. A rush of jealousy hit her. Each fairy possessed a startling, delicate beauty, with glittery skin and gossamer wings that entranced human men, bringing out their protective instincts. Not to mention lust. These fairies were completely pink, with fuchsia hair, rose skin, and seashell garments.
Hunter looked magnificent. His disheveled black hair tangled over his forehead and hit just below his ears. Silky. Tempting. His sharp cheekbones hinted at some foreign lineage. Probably royalty. A ruthless conqueror. His nose possessed an endearing bump and a scar nicked the right corner of his lips, most likely souvenirs from a barroom brawl.
He was probably six-foot-five, a veritable giant to her five-four. Obviously he worked out. A lot. His delicious biceps stretched the fabric of his black T-shirt. Overall (and quite surprisingly) he was not a handsome man. He was too savage looking.
He laughed at something one of the stupid flirting fairies said, and her jaw clenched. He must have sensed her presence in that moment because even as he laughed, his gaze traveled across the distance and locked on her. His smile grew even wider, and he waved in a welcome—until he saw her outfit. His eyes, suddenly blazing with fire, narrowed. His smile faded into a fierce frown; his hand fell to his side.
He turned away from her.
Oh, no no no. There would be no ignoring her tonight. No giving her the cold shoulder.
Two
His blood heated as his gaze drank in the vision that was Genevieve Tawdry. Actually, he didn’t have to look at her to know her appearance. He’d memorized it long ago. Long, dark brown hair that glinted red in sunlight
