I winced. The words hurt, but they were fair. I’d deliberately kept Roy out of the loop on the whole Donovan thing because I’d known he wouldn’t approve of my telling supernatural secrets to a human. If I’d talked to him first, maybe we could have figured something out. And I probably wouldn’t have ended up locked in a meat freezer with a ghoul.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. And I meant it.

  Roy nodded again. “I’m also not exactly happy that you’ve been avoiding me and not feeding.”

  My eyes prickled. I hadn’t exactly been avoiding Roy, but I hadn’t been going out of my way to make time to see him, either. I’d just been so confused about everything that I’d needed time to think. To try and sort everything out. I wanted to understand myself before I started trying to explain my feelings to anyone else.

  And if I wasn’t with Roy, then he was right, I wasn’t feeding. I might not be sure how I felt about things, but I had no interest in feeding on anyone else. I wasn’t that kind of woman. No matter how much my inner Succubus and my family complained about it.

  With a sigh, Roy leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked as his bulk settled, and he picked up his fork, twirling it around his fingers. It looked a little bit absurd in his big hand, like he was playing with a child’s toy.

  It worried me, though. Roy wasn’t the kind of man who fidgeted.

  “Fifi,” he started. His voice was low and quiet. “I’m all in. That’s the truth of it. I want this, everything that’s between us.” He paused and took a breath. “I don’t want to rush you, or pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but I just... I wanted to be clear.”

  He was being so careful, so controlled. It broke my heart a little.

  “I get that all of this makes you uncomfortable, and that’s okay,” he continued. “You feel how you feel. I’m fine with going at your pace.” He looked at me then, intent and focused. “But I need to know that you want me, too—that you see a future for us.”

  My breath caught in my throat. A small wounded sound escaped me. Of course, I wanted him. Had I really made him think otherwise? He was everything I could have ever wanted in a man and a partner. I just needed for this—whatever it was—to be real. To have something that wasn’t a trick, or a fluke, or worse, some trap I’d sprung on him without ever meaning to.

  “I just–” My voice broke, and I had to try again. “I just want someone who wants me with no magic involved. No pheromones, no spells, no Fate or Destiny forcing us together. I want to be with a man who wants me... just for me.”

  Roy laughed, but the sound was rueful. “Fifi, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, and you’re driven, you’re kind and you’re funny and, of course, you’re gorgeous.” He smiled, a little crooked.

  I managed a watery laugh.

  “I wasn’t tricked into this. Even if we weren’t connected, even if we were just human, I would still love you.”

  “You...” I started, but couldn’t finish.

  He nodded. “Yes, I love you, Fifi.”

  That was enough for my eyes to start overflowing. It felt like there were iron bands wrapped around my chest, and I couldn’t seem to breathe around them. I shoved back from the table and stumbled around to the other side before half collapsing into Roy’s arms.

  My chest loosened when his arms came around me, pulling me into his warmth. I felt enfolded. Treasured. Safe. We were like two puzzle pieces locking together.

  “I love you too,” I managed, tears freely falling from my eyes now. “I think I always have. But I just needed to be sure.” I whispered the words against his skin, clinging on with everything in me.

  A shiver went through Roy like a small earthquake. “Then can we agree that this is real—that we both love each other and choose to be together?” His voice was hoarse. I looked into his big, beautiful eyes and nodded as he reached out and cleared the tears from the apples of my cheeks.

  We stayed there for a long time, just hanging on to one and other. Taking comfort in being close together and I felt whole in a way I’d never felt with a man before. I felt like I was with the man I was meant to be with, but not in a forced sort of a way. No, in the most natural sort of way. I felt like I was... well, home.

  The End

  ~~~~~

  Return to Haven Hollow in:

  Velvet Voodoo

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  VELVET VOODOO

  Haven Hollow #29

  (Wanda’s Witchery)

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  &

  H.P. MALLORY

  Velvet Voodoo

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2023 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Velvet Voodoo

  Chapter One

  The worst part of working with velvet was keeping track of the pile.

  All the luscious, plush weave needed to go in one direction, and not just because it would feel like petting a cat backwards if you ran your hand over it. Because velvet, especially the expensive type that shimmered in the light like really good silk, wasn’t forgivable. If you stitched it wrong, it would leave lines in the fabric and make it obvious to anyone who looked at it that the dress was put together by an idiot.

  And I certainly wasn’t an idiot.

  I wasn’t an idiot, but the decision to work with velvet might have been a touch idiotic. Honestly, I didn’t know what the spell I’d been thinking when I’d seen a short, swinging velvet and lace dress in the Yves Saint Laurant line and thought, ‘huh—I could do something like that’. My brain must have been on vacation. Because, yes, the dress was gorgeous, and yes, it was going to look absolutely amazing on the wearer, but it was a huge pain to put together, and trying to weave the enchantments through it as I wrestled with the fabric was turning out to be a real witch.

  And trust me, I’d know.

  Every time I’d tried to lay out the lace for the bodice and straps, the little ingrates moved, sliding around like toddlers unable to sit still. I’d been relegated to sitting in the back room of my shop, bent over the wretched dress to hand sew the pieces into place, and I was on the verge of developing a permanent hunch. If I didn’t know exactly how amazing it would turn out when it was done, I’d have hexed the whole thing back into a pile of thread and been done with it.

  It wasn’t like me to get so worked up over a single piece of clothing, unless it was mine and someone had spilled something on it. And no, I’m not exaggerating or being dramatic. Wine on mulberry silk? Start running. But this dress wasn’t even for me. Soft lavender wasn’t a shade I’d ever consider hanging in my wardrobe—it clashed too much with my resting witch face.

  No, this piece was a gift. A sort of ‘welcome to the coven’ present, and that was why it had to be absolutely perfect.

  Imani had been in Haven Hollow for a few months, still in the process of testing the waters to see if she wanted to stay. She said she liked the town, the coven, and she liked it that we didn’t adhere so stringently to the old ways like the more traditional covens did. The joining ritual was set to happen in a few days, and I was going to make sure everything went according to plan, if I had to hex the entire town to do it.

  But first, this damned dress.

  I had to put the thing on my lap and take a deep breath. The stress was going to give me gray hair if I wasn’t careful, and I was way too young for that. One-hundred-forty-two and gray like an old, grumpy goat? I’d never hear the end of it.

  Normally, I’d have been able to whip up a dress like this in my sleep. Sure, the material was difficult, and the enchantments I was weaving into each stitch were extensive, but this was what I did. It was my specialty, and no one was better at it than I was, no matter what my cousin, Maverick, said. Sure, he was good at embroidering spell work on the inside of clothes, but he didn’t have the design vision I did.

  Once Imani put the dress on, she was going to look like a billion dollars. It was enchanted to highlight all her best features, and the soft purple color would make her dark skin shine. She’d be thanking her lucky stars that she’d decided to join Scapegrace Coven.

  I leaned back and grimaced when I felt something pop in my back. I’d been at it for hours, basically since the sun set and I’d been able to come into my store, Wanda’s Witchery. There were times when the act I had to put on, pretending to be a vampire instead of a witch to keep Rupert’s lackeys from harassing me, was irritating.

  I’d never been an early riser, don’t get me wrong. But there was a difference between preferring the night and being stuck to a nocturnal schedule. Still, it was better than being forcibly turned into a vampire and kicking off another Blood War that I didn’t think either side would win.

  It was worth it, for a little peace. Ever since Lorcan Rowe had blooded me in an attempt to save my life after a car crash, my life had been nothing but chaos. I’d been kicked out of my own coven for being a freak of nature, driven to Haven Hollow where I’d started a business and made, ugh, friends, only to be harassed by my own mother, then harassed by vampires insisting I be fully blooded. I’d then had a few magical mishaps that had left me up to my ears in a new family I couldn’t dodge, no matter how hard I tried, and blooded by a second vampire.

  Honestly, a little peace was worth losing out on sunbathing.

  At least my second blooding had sort of canceled out both, so Lorcan no longer felt compelled to complete the bond, or risk going mad and killing me instead. I wished we’d been able to go about it another way, one that didn’t involve vampire war criminals trying to attack my family, but here we were. At least it meant Lorcan and I were free to finally explore our relationship in a way that didn’t involve murder and potential madness. And, yes, as far as relationships and witches went—well, they didn’t. Every day I gave a little prayer to the goddess that I wouldn’t get bored. And no, that wasn’t me being dramatic either—I just wasn’t good with emotion or anything that went along with it—like dating.

  While having two different types of vampire blood running through my system had left me with a bit of a taste for the red stuff (yuck), there were a few perks. For one, my night vision was much improved, which was probably the only reason I wasn’t going blind hunched over the fiddly bit of lace in the back room. Unfortunately, though, it also left me with very good hearing, so the obnoxious little giggle floating in from the front of the store was as clear as nails dragging over a chalk board, and twice as grating.

  As a business owner, I was appreciative of Maverick’s ability to charm our female customers and that he certainly did. Truth be told, the average sale amount women spent had nearly tripled since he’d taken over the day shift. Who would have ever thought that a prickly warlock would be better at customer service than I was? Or maybe it was just that the majority of my customers were women, and Maverick was apparently attractive to them, something I could in no way comment on because... just yuck.

  As his cousin though, having to listen to him being awkwardly flirted with made me want to jam fabric in my ears until I was deaf.

  But back to the nightmare known as Imani’s dress, I only had a narrow bit of time, while Maverick was still here, to work on the dress uninterrupted. Once he headed out, I’d be at the mercy of anyone who bumbled inside, at least until I closed shop for the evening. Still, I’d rather take interrupted work over whoever was out there giggling at my cousin in a vocal range that was usually associated with dog whistles.

  Finally, blessedly, the customer made her purchases and went on her way.

  “She bought the last of the athletic wear that encourages the wearer to work out,” Maverick called from the front. “We’re going to need more before the weather gets nice again.” Then he grumbled underneath his breath. “All one week of nice weather we get in Oregon, that is.”

  I hummed in response, knowing Maverick would hear me. Ever since he’d been blooded by the vampire, Janeth, Maverick’s hearing had become scary good. It wasn’t the only thing that was getting a little scary about him though—but that was a subject about which he’d insisted he was handling, so I wouldn’t push him about it just yet. But when I did, I’d make sure to have Taliyah with me.

  More athletic wear... Right.

  I grabbed a pen and jotted it down on my lengthening to-do list, feeling barely a twinge of guilt as I shifted so that my back was to the pile of already cut fabric on the table behind me.

  All my focus was on the dress in my hands. It needed to be perfect. One of my finest works. It would prove that, whatever the world threw at Circle Scapegrace, we’d just keep on coming.

  I managed about four more carefully set stitches, before the door to the shop flew open again, sending the chimes jangling. A chorus of giggles flooded the air as several feet came tromping in, only one or two of the visitors making an effort to wipe their boots on the matt.

  “Sybil.” Maverick’s voice sounded pleasant on the surface... that is if you were stupid enough not to hear the arctic chill in his words—a chill that should have sent a wave of hoarfrost skittering up the walls. “Who are your… friends?”

  That had my head coming up, the carefully laid out lace and velvet draped across my lap all but forgotten. I set it carefully to the side and moved quietly over to the door to take a peek.

  Now, normally, I’d just ignore whatever was going on if it didn’t concern me. Or I’d barge right out there and not care what I was interrupting. It was my store, after all. But things involving Sybil had been… awkward, lately. Although, in my defense, I had no idea how the spell anything could be less awkward when it came to Sybil.

  An accident of magic, a dropped potion and some of my cousin’s spell work, had resulted in one of my dress mannequins coming to life in a rather memorable explosion. I still had no idea how it all had come about. I could only guess that between the slip up, and Maverick’s and my magic being so wonky thanks to our vampire blood, we’d managed to create a life together, and even thinking such a thought made my nose wrinkle up in disgust. That was just not the sort of thing I wanted to contemplate with Maverick’s name in the same sentence.

  Sybil was, by all appearances, a normal child. A little naïve, a little overly friendly, but otherwise average. Other than the fact that she was a shapeshifter who could look like any woman she so chose. She’d settled on the form of a fifteen-year-old girl in spite of being only a few months old—I still wasn’t quite sure if mannequin years were like dog or cat years but figured that wasn’t a super important subject so I let it go.

  Even if I could have ignored the fact that Maverick and I had made a magical baby together, which, ick, I was still at a loss as to what in the world to do about it.

  Neither Maverick nor I were used to children, and our own experiences in our previous coven, well... ha. Maybe not the best blueprints for raising a child. Maverick’s mother had been terrified when he’d started demonstrating just how powerful he was going to be. Warlocks were rare, though not as rare as I’d originally been led to believe. Even so, magic tended to prefer women, and most witch sons were fully mortal. When Maverick revealed signs of being a truly impressive warlock, his own mother had him tossed out of the coven. Yes, she’d done it in an effort to save him from being turned into a vampire, but she’d had to convince him that she hated him so he wouldn’t continue to reach out, and even a well-intentioned cut left scars.

  As for my own mother, well, she was the power-mad-maniac that my aunt was trying to protect Maverick from. When I’d been turned into a Blood Witch, Celestine hadn’t burned me alive (out of some withered maternal instinct I supposed) even though such was the normal treatment for Blood Witches. But she had kicked me out of the coven, and expected me to live in quiet exile for the rest of my days.

  Though, considering she’d quite literally fed my older brothers to the vampires in order to remove the blemish of other warlocks from our family line, I figured she’d been pretty merciful to me. By some measure, anyway.

  The point was, neither Maverick nor I were going to win any family relationship awards anytime soon.

  That was where Astrid had come in.

  .

  Chapter Two

  My heart gave a little bruised pang at the thought of my red-headed cousin who’d become like an adoptive daughter to me.

  Astrid had taken Sybil under her wing, giving her instruction and much needed friendship. Sybil wasn’t a witch, she was a shapeshifter, but she’d patterned a lot of her behavior from Astrid, and so she acted like a young witch.

  Which is what had made it so hard for her when Astrid had gotten accepted into Blood Rose Academy, and left to pursue her studies. But that’s not where the story ends. While Astrid was out from under the protection of our coven, she’d been attacked by a vampire bent on revenge against witches. He’d murdered Astrid. The fact that she’d risen again as a vampire didn’t lessen his crime one bit in our eyes, because Astrid had been turned against her will, and while Maverick and Taliyah had gone to Blood Rose to find her, and to mete out a satisfyingly bloody revenge, it didn’t change the results.

  Astrid was a vampire now, stripped of her ties to a witch’s magic. Only the fact that her unknown father had been fae had allowed her to keep any magic at all (apparently, the fae—unlike witches—were able to keep whatever magic they possessed even after being blooded by a vampire).

  Now Astrid was with her paternal uncle, Fox Aspen otherwise known as Prince Reynard, who was attempting to teach her how to harness her Sidhe magic, and we were all feeling her loss acutely. But I think Sybil missed her the most of all.

  Astrid and Maverick had always had an… interesting sibling relationship, though I suppose I didn’t have much room to talk. Three of my sisters had tried to kill me in the past, and all of them hated me in the present. Especially since I’d exposed our mother’s crimes and gotten her banished. Still, I knew Maverick felt horrible about what had happened to Astrid. He hadn’t wanted her to go to Blood Rose Academy to begin with, but he still thought he should have been able to protect her and the fact that he hadn’t was his own failure.