Mohegan: A Siren's Spell Romance Read online

  The lips between my legs cheer like teenagers at a football game. However, my mind’s about to explode, especially when the man finishes his healing and chuckles. No doubt he identifies all my emotions by the swirling colors in the corona around my body.

  I suppose it’d be damn rude to tell him to get the fuck out of my store. After all, he just saved my life and I’m generally pretty gracious about such things.

  I squirm to roll out from under him, determined not to let him get under my skin, even if I have to take human hormones for the rest of my life.

  “Thank you. For saving me.” I manage a tight smile as I push both my hands into his rock-hard abs. “Can you get off me now?”

  There, that was pretty nice. Right?

  His brows lift over eyes so mysterious and deep that I could get lost in them for hours. Then, he un-straddles me and stands. Like a perfect gentleman, he offers me a hand which I do not take.

  Instead, I lean onto my elbows, lift my head, and the room spins. It’s with supreme effort that I manage to scoot my butt against the cabinets.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, you can go. Saving my life does not entitle you to anything more. Uh… Whatever it is you’re thinking.”

  After finding a broom, he sweeps for a while, then says softly, “I’m not the only one with sex on their mind.”

  He tosses the dustpan my way and I hold it to the floor while he gets the last of the shards. After dumping it into the trash, his hands wrap around my waist, I’m lifted onto my steel countertop, and he steps between my legs, mouth demanding.

  “Nu-uh.” I turn my head and slide my toes to the floor but now I’m trapped.

  Out of the pot and into the fire, the button of his jeans cuts into my navel, his hard need pressing into my abs.

  There’s no way I’m going to kiss him, open my mouth, or surrender to his…

  My God, he tastes of tea, leather, and some kind of exotic spice.

  Aw, shit. I melt like ice cream to his hot fudge and shiver. Giving a little moan, my hands find his strong back and slide down his spine while he plunges his fingers into my hair. When his tongue asks for entrance, liquid drips down my leg and I have to break away to breathe.

  Winded, foreheads touching, we meet each other’s tortured gaze and for a moment my brain cells function. “Jack will be back any second now.”

  “I don’t do threesomes.” The little area above his nose wrinkles, his mouth turns down, and eyes narrow.

  Mine roll up into my head. “Seriously? Jack’s a family friend and my biggest client. Happily married. He’s more like a big brother. Get it?”

  The biker guffaws. He had to know Jack was my benefactor the minute they got within thirty feet of each other.

  Cheeks now burning, my index finger bends when I try to poke into his muscled chest. “Well, if you’re so damn smart. Who just tried to kill me? And where did that stupid spell come from?”

  “How would I know? I just got into town. A witch like you is always trouble.”

  “A witch like me?” I hate how my voice goes up an octave. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  With his lust-filled aura still the shade of deepest blue-purple, one side of his mouth turns up as he shakes his head. “You’re a really good liar. I’ll say that much for you.”

  Before I can think of a nasty enough retort, Jack walks back into the shop and gets right up in the face of the stranger. “Just who the fuck are you?”

  “Douse your fire. I’m not the enemy.” The healer glances down at the curled ball of flame inside Jack’s palm and puts a hand on his shoulder.

  Nodding, Jack relaxes his stance and says, “Whoever threw that bottle disappeared like a ghost but I called my brothers. They’ll be here in a few. We’ll keep someone on guard at all times.”

  “It won’t be necessary. I’m staying. Me and her, we got business.” The stranger glances a heated look my way but I shove him toward the door.

  “He is not staying.”

  Breaking out into a smile, Jack pulls us back into the dining area. “Wait? You and Olivia? Well, no shit.”

  Then, the two men nod like it’s a done deal so I feel it necessary to butt in. “Jack, believe me. He’s going. I have no intention of doing any business with, with…”

  I turn to the biker. “What the hell is your name?”

  “Mohegan.” He smirks.

  “Mister Mohegan?”

  “No. Just Mohegan.”

  “You go by one name? Like Prince or Madonna? Figures.” Again, I point at the front door, hoping he’ll get the subtle hint.

  “What’s your problem?” He slams the door shut, the bells on the ribbon clang, and Luna meows, dashing across the linoleum.

  “I got lots of problems with you, biker.” Fists clenched, I jut out my jaw, and give him my rudest glower.

  Laughing, Jack slaps the stranger on the back and gives me a stupid-ass grin. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Liv. Glad to meet you, Mohegan. I’m Jack. Jack Fialko.”

  Chapter Three

  Mohegan

  Hell, I get that she’s pissed. The tea-witch isn’t my type, either. I usually enjoy shorter, dark-haired, olive-skinned gypsies. This woman has a porcelain complexion, fiery red locks, and an evil disposition.

  A siren, that’s what she is. The minute her green eyes captured mine, I knew I was in over my head and the second she ducked from under that curtain, I should’ve gotten back on my bike.

  Now, she’s standing behind the alpha warrior, their auras mingling like friends who’ve known each other since birth. It didn’t take much for him to open up to my healing nature which surprises me. Usually his type resists unless they’re sick or wounded.

  I wonder why…

  Shit. Already I’m thinking like I’m staying and that can’t happen. If I’m shackled for life, she can damn well ride out of here on the back of my bike. My cock hardens at the thought of her long legs tucked behind mine, those beautiful breasts pushed hard against my back, and her arms around my waist.

  Those thoughts disappear when bright lights flash through the huge picture window. The front door opens with a deafening roar and Jack ushers two men forward that look a lot like him.

  “That’s my younger brother, Josh, and that’s Jace.”

  “So, the magnificent Fialko brothers. To what do I owe the honor?”

  When the ground rumbles and sparks flame in Jack’s eyes, I quickly add, “Sorry, no insult intended.”

  I’m still alive, so assume my apology is accepted as the three Fialkos embrace Olivia. Again, I can’t keep my fists from clenching. Their auras read that they’re all good friends but all this hugging’s going to stop once we’re on the road.

  The redhead turns to me and shakes her long locks. “You should wait outside. Far, far, away.”

  Would that I could.

  The youngest Fialko heads to where the evil liquid hit behind the counter, squats, and puts a finger in it. “What went on here?”

  It dawns on me that none of the warring witches can sense the evil in the brown goop that spilled everywhere. Not only that, it doesn’t seem to affect them.

  “A beer bottle flew through the air, hit Olivia, and she went down. She had a mild concussion and I healed her.” I’ll play the rest of my cards closer to my vest until I can gather more intel.

  Olivia shoots me a look and I raise one eyebrow, daring her to say more but she just shrugs. “It’s Halloween. Probably just some teenagers.”

  Jace Fialko rises, face grim. “No one around here would be stupid enough to try to harm our healer. It had to be someone from out of town. Hey, you’re from out of town, right mate?”

  I considered telling the youngster to fuck off but a slight stirring of the earth makes me think better of it. From what I’ve heard, this guy could set off a quake and send tidal waves from here to Africa.

  The kid gets in my face, brows furrowed, ready to pick a fight. “It’s kind of a weird coincidence, isn’t it? You show up out o
f nowhere and someone hurts our healer.”

  There’s no way I’m telling this kid or his warring brothers squat. Guys like him have made my kind almost extinct.

  “Yeah, I’m a stranger but that means I don’t know anyone or anything about your business, your town, or your healer. To be clear, I have no intention of staying in bum-fuck, nowheresville and can’t wait to get the hell out.”

  First, I got to figure out how to un-do the lust spell.

  “Is there a hotel in this god-forsaken town?” The room spins, I rest my hand on a table, and the sea-witch rushes over.

  With her hand on my forehead, she frowns. “Shit. He’s about to crash. Grab him.”

  “I’m damn well not about to –”

  As I stagger, Jack Fialko puts an arm under my shoulder and takes me behind the tie-dyed curtain. A small room appears with a cot, a window, and a couple chairs. Olivia immediately lights a grass candle, incense, and readies all the things she’s going to need to save me.

  Eyelids heavy, I stare at the stars painted onto the black ceiling. Guess I’m staying the night. Healing her took a lot more out of me than I thought.

  Chapter Four

  Olivia

  Jack sits cross-legged next to the cot in my healing area. “I’m staying right here, Liv.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. Whoever it was is long gone.” I give him my best get-the-fuck-out-of-my-business.

  “Don’t look at me that way. That bottle could just as easily have been a Molotov cocktail. Someone’s warning you off.”

  “You’re being paranoid. Everything is fine. Besides, Jace and Josh are out there, looking for him.”

  I smile at my dear friend. He and his huge clan are family, more than my mom, and certainly more than my dad.

  Glaring at me, he pulls a cell phone out of his back pocket, and calls his wife, “Hey hun. There was a little problem at Olivia’s. Huh? No. Nothing you should worry about. Just some Halloween prank but I wanted you to know where I am.”

  When he hangs up, I laugh. “You do realize she’ll get the truth out of you the instant you get home.”

  “Makeup sex is the best. You should try it.”

  “No thanks. Domestic bliss is not for me.” For a moment, I picture myself married to the guy on the cot and wonder what it would be like. Then, my parent’s marriage comes to mind and I groan, causing the sleeping witch to stir.

  Jack’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you think this attack has something to do with the other night?”

  I wrap my granny-square afghan around me, the only thing left to me from my maternal grandmother. There’s still a kind of calming magic woven into the yarn.

  “No. Why?”

  “Even I can tell you’re lying. This is serious shit. If Mohegan wasn’t here, I hate to think what might’ve happened to you. You’re more than my damn healer, Olivia, you’re like a sister to me and if you’re in a jam, it’s my job to protect you.” Jack hops up and paces, fire in his eyes but no one can fix what happened.

  I can’t tell him that. He’ll freak out.

  “This has nothing to do with last night. I’m sure of it.” In truth, I’m not certain of anything as I chant healing spells over the stranger.

  Last night started out much like any other Halloween weekend…

  “C’mon, Liv. Let’s go.” My human friend, Kayla, grabs her broomstick, takes me by the arm, and heads me toward the costume party like she’s twelve, about to go trick or treating.

  I lower a mask over my eyes and adjust my long velvet cape. No broomstick for me, just a short black dress covered in violet runes from my everyday closet. My insides uneasy, I squint up at the towering beachfront mansion, the sun low in the sky.

  “Who did you say you know here?”

  “Some guy who said he works with a friend of my friend, David.”

  A chill runs up and down my spine as I reach into my purse and finger my car keys. “Didn’t you ask any more questions than that?”

  “Calm down. The guy was totally hot as was his friend handing out invites. We’re in Ship Bottom. The only bad thing here is the seafood.”

  I point out a wet paper flyer on the driveway paver stones. “By invite, do you mean that?”

  “My God, you sound like my mom. If we don’t like it, after five minutes, we can go. Or, stay in the car while I check it out. But if I don’t come back that means I’m having fun. You can pick me up later.” She stomps up the front steps and rings the bell.

  Oh, hell no. If houses had auras, this one would have black smoke oozing like burning coal.

  Bracing myself, I walk across the flagstones to join her, careful not to catch a spike heel in the cracks. Above us, on the oceanside, a wide deck is covered in drinking partiers, most already inebriated.

  What’s wrong with blowing off a little steam?

  I’m not sure but a niggling feeling causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Maybe, I’m just getting too old for this kind of thing.

  When the front door opens, I almost go deaf. No doubt the booming of the so-called music can be heard across the bay, all the way to Manahawkin. Kayla and I follow some Dracula through an immense foyer and into the living room. As we walk, my heart starts pounding louder than the bass drum emanating from a huge speaker in the corner.

  The uneasy feeling grows stronger and I try to find the source as I take Kayla’s hand and shout into her ear, “Stay close.”

  “What?”

  I mouth the words and grab her bicep. “Stay. Close.”

  She nods as we make our way onto the deck where the bar is located. This useful fact was given to us by a headless man looking through the neck of his button-down shirt.

  A few party-goers are on the sand in a game of drunken volleyball which seems pretty harmless so I grab a beer and lean over the railing. Meanwhile, when I’m not looking, Kayla takes off with a cute guy, someone she’s obviously met before. She waves at me and I wave back. We both promised there’d be no hooking-up tonight, just some fun which I should be having instead of standing here worrying.

  I smile at a male human, about twenty, checking me out. He’d probably shit himself if he knew I just turned thirty.

  He walks across the crowded room and shouts, “Want to go someplace quieter?”

  I would but I’m not leaving the house, not until I find the source of my unease. “No thanks, I’m good.”

  Disappointed that I wasn’t an easy score, he heads off in search of other prey which is fine with me. When I note that the party extends up to the second-floor deck, I squeeze my way across the room to where a large man in a gorilla mask stops me at the foot of the stairs.

  “By invite only.”

  “I’m always invited, sugar.” I pulse healing energy into his shoulder, his eyes glass over, and he staggers back.

  The mind-numbing effect only lasts a few seconds but that’s plenty of time to dash to the second floor. There, my eyes adjust to the only light coming from the full-length windows on either ends of the long hallway. The six closed doors I have to assume are bedrooms.

  I put my ear to the first where there’s grunts and moans of a couple having sex. Similar noises come from the second. Then, screaming from the third makes my heart leap.

  Shit. For the first time in years, instead of being a healer, I wish I was a Fialko and had the power to summon a fireball, a storm, or even a small earthquake.

  Instead, I act as a mere human would and text the party’s address to 911 along with, ‘Assault on second floor.’

  However, this is Ship Bottom and it’s off season. There’s no way the police will make it here in time. With that thought in mind, I run to the first room where I’d heard sex, open the door, and find a four-foot statue of a dolphin. Thank God for good, solid art. Grabbing it, I ignore the disgruntled shouts of the naked couple, and dash out into the hall.

  Slowly I turn the door handle.

  Oh, for crying out loud. Of course, it’s locked.

  Th
e screaming inside gets desperate and the metal knob looks pretty robust. I don’t think the dolphin will break it off.

  I kick off my heels in case I need to make a run for it and pound on the door with my fist, pitching my voice down an octave. “Police. Open up.”

  There’s male cursing and some female shouts, “Oh My God! Please! Help me!”

  Berating myself for not doing so sooner, I text my address to Jack knowing his clan will come. But like the police, they will arrive too late. ``

  This is it. I’m about to die. Why the hell didn’t I stay in the car and listen to my intuition?

  The door cracks open and a small man with a fucked-up aura peers out. “Give my wife a moment to dress.”

  Without over-thinking it, I push hard and enter. You might swear I walked into a Vincent Price movie. There’s a dozen candles, a make-shift altar, and a naked woman on a black marble slab.

  Oh yeah. Did I mention the warlock’s got a knife?

  When he lunges, I jump back, thanking God for my few classes in self-defense. As we face each other with my heart thumping like crazy, his eyes narrow and his aura flares an evil shade of putrid greenish-brown.

  When he rushes me again, I twist, grunt, and fall on my face, motionless. He inches close to check my pulse and sets down his knife. Instantly, I grab it, roll over, and plunge it into his shoulder. Then I jump-kick to standing with a heel to his groin.

  The witch staggers to his feet, holding his bloody shoulder and his balls. He stops at the sliding glass door that leads to a balcony overlooking the dunes. “You’ll wish you’d stayed the fuck out of my business.”

  Then he takes a flying leap, rolls, and begins to run, leaving footsteps in the deep sand.

  When I’m sure he’s gone, I pull the comforter off the bed and wrap the hysterical girl. By the time paramedics come, I’ve given her enough healing energy to calm her but she’s still unable to give the police much information.

  Once the ambulance is gone, an officer with a buzz cut and receding hair line takes out an iPad and opens his keyboard. “Was it you that texted 911?”