CHAPTER 1
Five.
Voices murmured nearby, the speakers hidden by haphazard shelves. Rain pattered against the shop’s small display window as Clio strolled along the outer aisle, her gaze passing over the merchandise.
Four.
A man, anonymous in a black sweater with the hood pulled up, stood in front of a cabinet, its glass doors locked to protect the valuable items within. She squeezed past him and stopped beside an array of dainty necklaces with colorful pendants.
Three.
A few steps away, the cramped aisle widened into an open space with a high counter, where the owner lounged in the spotlight of a buzzing fluorescent bulb. From beneath bushy gray eyebrows, he surveyed his domain with a glower, his beady stare shifting from patron to patron as though ready to bellow accusations of thievery.
Two.
She couldn’t blame the owner for being suspicious. The hooded guy to her right, staring intently into that cabinet of the shop’s most expensive wares, wasn’t even the shadiest customer present. The darkness and rain had brought in more business than usual for a Tuesday night.
One.
She twitched the sleeve of her knitted maroon sweater up and glanced at her watch just as the second hand ticked onto the twelve, marking 10:00 p.m. exactly.
A bell jingled as the door swung open, and she smiled. Right on time.
Unlike the half-dozen other customers, the new arrival hadn’t bothered hiding his face. His dirty blond hair, pulled into a braid, was tucked under the neckline of his long black coat, the severe style accentuating his sharp cheekbones and yellow-green eyes, far brighter than any human possessed—but that was hardly a surprise when none of the shop’s patrons were human.
The newcomer strode directly to the counter and offered the owner a brief greeting, just as he had last week at this exact time. And the week before. And the week before that. She was running out of disguises, but it didn’t matter because this was her last chance to get what she needed.
Ostentatiously examining the necklaces, she picked up two cheap pendants with even cheaper chains and checked their price tags. The shopkeeper and his customer exchanged a few brisk sentences she couldn’t hear, then the owner disappeared through a curtained doorway into the back of the shop. The customer leaned against the counter and drummed his fingers on the surface with obvious impatience.
As his gaze drifted past her, she casually moved away and reached for another crappy necklace to add to her handful. She wasn’t too concerned about being noticed—her long maroon sweater, leggings, knee-high boots, and oversized cap were forgettable, and considering the strange visitors this place attracted, she hardly stood out. With its dim interior and shelves jammed into every nook and cranny, it was a haven for shoppers who couldn’t exactly buy spellcrafting tools or pre-made magic at the local human strip mall.
And then there were the customers who, like the buyer at the counter, came here to order something more special than a simple ward or illusion spell.
She took another step away from the counter. She would have to get close again once the owner returned, but no sense in risking them noticing her too soon.
Two steps away on her other side, that guy standing at the locked cabinet was tapping one finger thoughtfully against the glass. She shot him an irritated look. Black sweater, hood pulled low over his forehead to keep his face hidden, shoulders slouched, and one hand jammed into his jeans pocket. If he kept standing in one spot like that, especially right in front of the most expensive products in the store, he would draw attention—and she did not want any attention in their direction.
Putting a necklace back, she coughed quietly, hoping to spook him before he tried opening the cabinet. In a place like this, it was probably sealed tight with the kind of magic thieves would regret messing with. Only an idiot would attempt it … but the world was full of idiots.
At her fake throat clearing, he glanced at her. Light fell across his face and caught on gleaming amber eyes.
Her heart jammed itself into the vicinity of her tonsils. Choking, she whipped back to face the necklace display and took a deep, calming breath. Okay, she hadn’t expected that.
“That” being the most drop-dead gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
She gave her head a slight shake. So he was a serious hunk. Whatever. Didn’t change anything. At the counter, her mark was picking at a loose thread on his sleeve as he stared at other shoppers. Mr. Gorgeous had returned to his intense contemplation of the cabinet, still tapping it absently with a finger. His hood had shifted, revealing a sliver of his face—the smooth line of a cheekbone sweeping down to a strong jaw.
She pursed her lips. Amber eyes … amber was close to gold. And she knew what had gold eyes and the kind of looks that made women feverish.
An incubus.
Lords of seduction. Masters of lust. Inhumanly beautiful, flawless, sensual. The bane of self-respecting women everywhere. She nodded to herself, her nerves easing and her embarrassment fading. No big deal that he’d caught her off guard like that. And she didn’t need to worry about him causing problems. Among all the magic-wielders she could have encountered, incubi were pushovers.
At least, that’s what she’d heard, but it wasn’t like she spent her free time chatting up denizens of the Underworld. In fact, she did her best to avoid them. Life was much easier that way, and she planned to keep her record nice and clean by not gawking at the sex fiend three feet away.
But he was still tapping the glass, and the sound drew her gaze back to him.
Movement at the counter snapped her thoughts back on track. The owner had returned with a long object wrapped in brown paper. The buyer turned to face him, smiling like a shark as he leaned over the counter and began unwrapping his special order.
Yes. This was it—her moment. Dropping the necklaces on a shelf, she walked toward the counter and passed a hand over her eyes to bring her other sight into focus.
Light blazed everywhere—the swirling, shifting patterns of the spells that filled the shop. Before the tangle of magic could distract her, she concentrated on the man and his parcel.
A chartreuse haze coated his body—his glamour, the magic that disguised his true appearance. Spelled weapons hidden on his body glowed in her vision, and his forearms were branded with green sigils she recognized as defensive spells that could deflect magical attacks. Despite his casual appearance, he was well armed, as she’d expected.
But she wasn’t here to dissect his magic. As the man pulled the last of the paper aside, she pinpointed the object on the counter. Red light formed a complex layering of runes that emanated from whatever lay within the wrapping. She stepped closer, intending to walk nonchalantly by on her way out the door. All she needed was one good look.
A strange crackle, almost inaudible, hissed behind her, followed by a quiet pop. Reflexively, she glanced over her shoulder toward the sound, and her magical sight fell on the incubus standing at the cabinet.
Disbelief obliterated all other thoughts from her head. She froze in place, mouth hanging open.
If the buyer at the counter was well armed, then she didn’t know how to describe the incubus. He was carrying an entire arsenal of magic.
Golden weavings layered his body, so bright they almost obscured his form. Spells wrapped his wrists and arms, looped around his neck, circled his hips, and even glowed around his ankles. He had enough magic on him to blow the entire building sky-high.
And the spells … her disbelief shifted to something colder. Something that tasted like fear.
She didn’t recognize any of the spells he carried. Not a single one.
She was familiar with all basic defensive and offensive weavings, as well as a large number of the less common ones. She knew them all on sight, and even the unfamiliar ones required no more than a swift assessment.
But she couldn’t parse any of his spells, meaning they were complex enough to require a more thorough look, just like the mysterious red weaving the buyer—
The buyer. Oh shit.
She whipped back around just as the man folded the paper back over his order and tucked it under his arm. He shook the owner’s hand. The older man came around the counter and walked the buyer to the door—and all Clio could do was stand there and watch him go, her only chance to read the weaving gone.
She clenched her teeth before the string of profanity spinning around in her head could escape her mouth. She’d missed it. She’d missed her chance—because she’d been gawking at that damn incubus instead of paying attention to what she was doing.
A customer hailed the shopkeeper, and as he headed away from the counter, Clio turned back around, furiously blinking her mundane sight back into focus. The overly armed incubus was still standing in front of the cabinet, and this time she saw what she’d missed before.
The cabinet door was wide open.
For a third time, her jaw dropped. What had happened to the spells that kept it sealed shut? The spells that should have been keyed to the shopkeeper, preventing anyone else from opening it?
The incubus had his hand inside the cabinet and was casually sorting through various vials and bottles while ignoring the assortment of sparkling diamonds and precious stones on the shelf above. He plucked a tiny bottle out and lifted it to the light. Its contents glittered like liquid silver mixed with diamond dust.
His gaze flicked from the vial to her.
She stiffened, clamping her jaw shut and narrowing her eyes into a glare despite the way his attention quickened her pulse. Well, now she knew where he’d gotten all those rare, priceless weavings. He was a thief. And here he was, stealing another expensive rarity from this shop and distracting her from her job.
He met her glower, his eyebrows climbing higher above those magnetic amber irises. He didn’t move, apparently waiting to see what she would do now that she’d caught him in the act. Had he noticed her earlier gaping at his spell arsenal? Probably not. Her ability to read magic was rare, and she’d bet he was too desensitized by constant female attention to question her reaction. With a face like his, she wouldn’t be surprised if he caused regular traffic accidents just by appearing in public.
When she didn’t scream any accusations, a corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile that sent a traitorous swoop through her middle. He lowered the vial, and she expected him to slip it out of sight under his clothes.
She didn’t expect him to drop it.
It tumbled out of his fingers and smashed onto the floor, the sound of breaking glass lost in the jingle of bells as the shop door opened again. She blinked at the silver puddle on the dirty tiles. The incubus shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. Had it slipped from his grip … or had he dropped it on purpose?
Footsteps thudded behind her and a hand grabbed her shoulder. She was roughly shoved into the display of necklaces, arms flailing and hat slipping half off her head. Her hair spilled out from underneath it in long blond waves that fell past her elbows.
The man who’d pushed her stopped in front of the incubus, his companion following behind more sedately. They were similarly dressed in dark jackets with the hoods pulled up.
“Well?” the first newcomer snapped. “Did you find any?”
Pushing herself upright, Clio rubbed her ear. She hadn’t known a male voice could sound so … so good. Even with that angry edge, the man sounded as though he could melt the clothes off a woman’s body just by humming a few notes.
“Nope,” the incubus answered. “None here.”
She straightened her floppy cap with overly careful movements. How was it possible that the incubus’s voice was even sexier?
“Dulcet was certain this shop would have it,” the second new arrival murmured, far calmer than his companion and with a voice just as divine.
The pushy one cut a hand through the air. “How can this entire city be devoid of quicksilver?”
Quicksilver? As in the shiny puddle on the floor that looked a lot like liquid metal?
The incubus shrugged. “I can’t conjure it out of thin air just because you want some.”
The pushy man surveyed the incubus, then casually grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back into the cabinet. His head hit the glass door with a thud, and a spiderweb of cracks spread out from the point of impact.
“We have time to check one more place,” the other man muttered. “Let’s go.”
As he started to turn, his foot slipped in the maybe-quicksilver puddle and he wobbled. Before he could glance down, Clio moved.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it. Maybe it was watching that asshole shove the unresisting incubus like he was a punching bag. Maybe it was the realization that the incubus had smashed the vial to thwart said asshole. Maybe it was her fear of what the asshole would do if he discovered the broken bottle and ruined quicksilver.
“Excuse me,” she declared, striding forward aggressively. All three guys looked around and her steps faltered.
For a moment, she thought she was seeing triple. That’s how close to identical the three men were—no, not men. Three incubi with chiseled jaws, sensual mouths, and smoldering amber eyes.
The combined sight of so much male gorgeousness overloaded her brain and her thoughts fizzled out. Instead of striding right past them like she’d intended, she stumbled. And while stumbling, she stepped right in the puddle on the floor that she hadn’t wanted the two new incubi to notice.
Her foot slipped and she pitched forward.
Her face smacked into the original incubus’s chest. She grabbed at him, clutching handfuls of his sweater to stop her fall. His arm swept around her and pulled her tight against him, halting all movement entirely.
Now her face was mashed against his shoulder, her front pressed to his, and her heart was pounding her rib cage into rubble. An enticing scent—exotic spices with an undertone of cherry—filled her nose.
“Literally throwing themselves at you,” the angry incubus said, his words dripping with disgust. “Let’s get out of here.”
He and his pal strode away, leaving her in the grasp of the original incubus.
“Don’t just stand there,” one of them called back irritably. “Come on!”
The bells clanged and the door slammed. She just stood there, leaning inappropriately against a total stranger with her thoughts mired in a dreamy haze as though his touch alone was a potent drug. His hood had fallen off, revealing tousled hair of a blond so pale it was almost white, the contrast striking against his warm, honey-tan skin. How did he keep getting more attractive every time she looked at him?
She needed to get a grip. He was just a man. A really, really, really hot man. And she should get off him before he got the wrong idea about her intentions.
His arm flexed against her back, then his hand slid down her hip—and over her backside.
All the sweet, floating feelings in her head popped like a soap bubble and she shoved herself backward, stumbling free of his arm.
“What the hell?” she snarled.
His eyebrows rose and his mouth quirked in a teasing smile that was somehow unrepentant and playfully contrite at the same time. Then, before she even knew what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them. His fingers slid lightly across her cheek, intimate and caressing, and his lips touched her opposite ear, his breath warm on her skin.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
His touch disappeared and he brushed past her. She stared after him, her head spinning as he strolled to the door and pushed it open. Pulling his hood up before stepping into the rain, he glanced back and met her eyes. His impish grin only lasted a second, but her belly still flipped.
Then he was gone, and the door swung shut again.
She blinked several times, then pressed her hands to her face. Beneath her palms, a blush scorched her cheeks. Holy shit. She could still feel his soft lips on her ear, his warm breath. Thanks. What exactly had he been thanking her for?
Shaking her head, she huffed out a long exhalation and straightened her hat again. Missed her mark, blew her cover, made a fool of herself, and let an incubus feel her up. This had not been her best night. Could it have gone any worse?
“What the—”
She whirled around. The hulking shopkeeper stood at the aisle’s other end, veins bulging in his forehead as he looked from the open cabinet to the shimmery silver puddle.
“Girl!” he roared.
Yeah, she’d been wrong. Her night could get a lot worse.
--
The Night Realm
The Spell Weaver Trilogy / Book One
Copyright © 2017 by Annette Marie
www.annettemarie.ca
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations for review purposes.
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