“This is dark stuff, Lorenzo. Conjuring divinities isn’t something mere mortals should touch,” Lavinia says in a grave voice.
The head of the local coven is a sweetheart. Muddy and Rover owe their happiness to her, but she doesn’t understand big risks means big rewards. Knowing she won’t help, I nod my head, solemn look in my eyes. I’m plenty of things, and being a good actor is one of them. After a hot mug of tea and freshly baked scones spread with butter—only one for me because I’m watching my hot figure, Rover and I leave her cottage. Used to shifters and other supernatural visitors, Lavinia provides us with spare clothes before we leave. The clothes are kind of too generic for my taste, but they will do.
“What’s going on in that little head of yours, Loren?” Rover asks, crossing his arms. Clearly, he’s one of the few guys I can’t con.
“Nothing, I meant what I said. I’m going to resort to something else, not magic, to win Drakon back to my side.”
“You don’t need to win him back. Drakon’s already yours,” Rover says with a sigh.
“Easy for you to say, you have Muddy twined around your little finger,” I retort.
“Loren, I can’t leave you until you promise me you won’t do anything shady.” Rover wears a serious expression on his face, I know he’s not kidding around.
“Hell, Rover. Why do you keep using that word?” I ask, not masking my irritation.
“Because you are shady, but remember this.” Rover surprises me by touching my chest, where my heart rests. “You’re a good guy underneath. Don’t do anything crazy. Wait for Drakon to come home. Tell him you want to talk. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”
I make a dramatic pause, and furrow my brows. “That sounds reasonable.”
Rover nods, patting my shoulder. “Come with me. I’m meeting some pack members for a drink.”
“I’ll pass this time round. I’m going to head back home. Snuggle in bed with a cup of coffee.”
Rover hesitates, but I give his arm a squeeze.
“You don’t have to babysit me, Beta. I’ll be fine.”
Rover lets me go with obvious reluctance.
“Update me ok, and if you need anything,” he says, before parting ways.
I strip down, carry my clothes in my muzzle and pretend to make my way to the woods. Certain Rover’s gone, I pad back to town, in search of the magic shop Lavinia mentioned in passing.
I easily locate the Magic Balls Emporium and scout it out. There’s only one human teenager working part-time at the counter, so I camouflage myself near the bushes beside the shop and patiently wait. Once the college kid locks up, I creep to the back of the shop and shift.
Back in human form, I dress up and press my ear against the backdoor, listening for sounds and feeling for any magic. After my wolf confirms it’s safe, I use my supernatural strength to break the lock. I pat the crumpled note in my pocket, the scribbled piece of paper Lavinia threw out. It’s a list of ingredients for the spell, in Lavinia’s neat script.
The ingredients were the reason Lavinia advised me to not pursue this course. Only black magic uses these things, but I can’t stop now. I don’t find the ingredients in the shop, but in the special storeroom behind the counter. By the time I grab each one and swipe them inside a bag from the cashier, I’m sweating. Hearing a sound from outside, I quickly make my exit. I break into a run, just in time to see the kid manning the counter, who’s talking on his phone.
“I’ll be back, just forgot some of my notes back in the shop,” he was saying.
Relief washes over me when he leaves, not noticing anything amiss. I make my way to the local park, relatively empty this time of the night, with the exception of late-night jaunts. I manage to find an empty clearing.
“Get yourself together, Loren,” I mutter to myself, laying out my stolen ingredients on the grass.
I lay out tea candles in a rough circle big enough to fit a single person. The list mentions using candles made with the blood of virgins, but I compromise with cherry-flavored tea lights. After lighting each one, I enter the circle, sit crossed-legged, and pull out the page I took from the spell book.
With calm hands, I take out the ritual bowl made of mother-of-pearl and begin tossing in the odd ingredients from plastic baggies with old labels like powder of griffin, or balls of unicorn. I stare at the mixture in the bowl and light a match. I throw it in, and it instantly catches fire.
“Cupid, god of love, this supplicant summons you,” I say, then utter the words on the page, stumbling on some Old English words. I repeat the words over and over. When nothing happens, I pepper more creative curses into the spell. “Cupid, you chubby son-of-a-bitch, I summon you!”
Misunderstanding or no, I will do whatever it takes. I envision Drakon in my mind, see us together forever. Rover’s wrong. I can’t wait. My philosophy is to grab love by the balls and never let go. That’s the only way I can keep my man. I once took on a dragon king, the last king of his line, so how hard can taming one fat angel be?
It turns out, much harder.
“Cupid!” I yell, and all the tea lights go out.
Then the flames in the bowl rise into a column, turning to a purple and red color. Sweat coats my brow and back, and my heart starts to hammer. I’m beginning to think I’m way out of my league.
“Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I knew it, you shady pup!” Rover’s voice is a shock. I see his angry figure walking towards me.
His presence startles me awake. I hop out of the circle, sensing the change in the air. It’s hotter somehow, like the air’s charging up with unknown energy. I sprint for Rover, taking him by surprise.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” I whisper, shaking him.
“Which foolish mortal dares summon the God of Love?” A voice thunders from behind me.
I whirl, seeing strange pink glyphs in a complicated language around the tea lights. We wolves see well in the dark, and I expected to see some small overweight baby with wings, using a big voice. Instead, Rover and I clutch at each other. Something massive, the size of a house looms above a crest of trees. Our werewolf eyes catch the outline of an obese baby, but Cupid looks nothing like the ones on holiday cards, believe me. The giant baby unfurls massive black wings and his eyes are electric blue.
“Shit,” Rover murmurs. Thank God he’s there, because he starts pulling me along. “Loren, run!”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. We scamper away like ants while the giant’s footsteps vibrate behind us, practically shaking the forest.
“I should have done more cardio,” I pant, grabbing at Rover who doesn’t seem to tire one bit.
“COME BACK HERE, MORTAL.” To make his point, something huge comes flying at us. Rover jerks me aside and I stare uncomprehendingly at the bright neon pink feathers protruding from a thick shaft the size of a small tree—Cupid’s arrow.
“Where are you going?” Rover demands as I run to the shaft, manage to pluck a handful of pink feathers, before Rover yanks me back and pushes me to a run.
“Christ. I can’t believe we’re running from a fucking god,” Rover mutters. I don’t know how he’s doing it, talking while he runs. Stuffing the pink feathers down my shirt, I race after him, or try to.
More humongous arrows fly on either side of us, decimating trees and sinking into the forest ground. Damn it, but Brick, the local Alpha, is going to be pissed at us, and so will Drakon.
“They’re not all that hard to avoid, being so damn big! Hah, idiotic fat turd!” I open my mouth too soon because one pink arrow lands right in front of Rover and I, blocking our path. Damn it, we’re so close to the mountain.
“I can’t believe this,” Rover mutters under his breath. “After all the shit Muddy and I went through, I’m going to be squashed by a fucking baby with wings.”
“Oh, cheer up. We’re not dead.”
Rover turns on me, glaring, jaw tightening—I know he’s really mad. From somewhere above us, a howl echoes off the rocks, and I hear the flutter of wings. Not my Drakon, but I’ll take any dragon shifter at this rate. Muddy’s bronze scales glint under the moonlight. He streaks down the mountain peak, wings tucked against his body, and flies true as any arrow.
“If he’s hurt by your stupid overgrown angel, you’re dead,” Rover warns me.
“Please. Muddy’s more durable than that.” Once again, I open my mouth too soon. Cupid swats Muddy away like a fly.
“You’re dead, fucker,” Rover growls out the words, not at me, thank the Lord, but at Cupid.
“Rover—”
Rover cuts me off with a snarl. Clothes rip, bones pop and a wolf replaces the man. I watch in wonderment at Rover’s stupidity, as he comes at Cupid and bites the angel’s little toe. Cupid howls, and Muddy’s back in the air.
“Not stupid after all,” I mutter. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Joining the fight would only hinder Rover and Muddy, but they’re fighting on my account, or I’d like to think.
“Think, Loren. Use your damn head.”
Remembering the torn page, I pull it out, squinting at the text, trying to find out how to end the evocation. Sounds of fighting fill the air. When I hear the second brassy rumbling howl, true terror stabs through me. Only my silver dragon is capable of making that ferocious sound, capable of making the earth vibrate.
I spy the flash of Drakon’s monstrous form, his scales silver under the moonlight as he plummets from the top of the mountain. He doesn’t join in the fight, not yet. Instead, he lands near me, wings stirring the air, and I clutch at the paper before it flies away. Drakon looks at me with angry stilted eyes, forked tongue hissing, showing me a row of very sharp canines.
Ooh scary. I know Drakon will never hurt me. All this is a show, although I know he’s really going to punish me later. Set my ass on fire and fuck me until I’m sore—oh. The thought shouldn’t make me so hard. Drakon’s gaze slips to my hard-on and I grin, shameless.
I wave the paper at him. “I got the answer, baby. All I got to do is destroy the circle.”
As if Cupid hears me, he turns, leveling his scary electric blue gaze on me. With a shriek, Drakon takes to the air, joining his brother in flight. I’ve never seen them both together, playing as a tag-team. They’re magnificent, but a nudge from a furry head at my leg—Rover, reminds me it’s time to stop gawking.
I head back to the circle, easily finding the path because of the huge arrows.
“MORTAL, ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES!” I can hear Cupid’s lumbering footsteps behind me, stomping on trees and rocks without effort. The god’s able to cover plenty of ground quickly, so I need to act fast.
“Go fuck yourself!” I reach the site, not seeing Cupid’s big toe shoving at my ass, sending me tumbling over the patch of earth. Furious, I yell at him, “you better be ready to pay for years of squats if my ass’s deformed!”
Rover nips at my shirt, urging me to stand. With a faithful wolf at my side, we scramble to the tea lights. The pink glyphs are still glowing. With a battle cry that sounds a little too shrill, I kick at the tea lights and Rover does the same. I see Drakon, claws in Cupid’s neck, and frantically flapping his wings while Muddy hits the back of Cupid’s head with his tail. The pink glyphs go out.
“Did we do it?” I ask wolf-Rover, and then turn my attention back to Cupid.
The god of love dematerializes in front of our eyes, looking furious. As he disappears, he shows me the finger, telling me we’re far from done.
“Bring it on, fatso!”
Rover shakes his head repeatedly. The two dragon shifters join us. Muddy doesn’t stay long. Once Rover mounts his back, the two of them disappear back into the night sky, leaving me to Drakon’s wrath.
“Say goodbye to the fruit basket I was about to send you two cowards!” I yell at Muddy and Rover. When I turn back, Drakon is back in human form—completely nude and magnificent, if I might add.
“I can smell your arousal, little wolf,” Drakon says, coming close.
“I thought you were mad at me?” I demand, staying put, gasping when he reaches out and pulls me close.
“I am, but I have plenty of creative ways to punish you,” Drakon whispers against my ear, rubbing his erection against mine.
“Punish this bad little wolf?”
Drakon looks at me with amusement, and then his expression turns grave. “Loren, why?”
I let out a sigh of frustration. “You’re seriously asking me that question?”
At his patient look, I begin to explain, and at the end of it all, Drakon has the nerve to look a little baffled.
“You thought I’m cheating on you?” Drakon demands. He grabs me by my shoulders, spin me, and presses his dick against the curve of my covered ass. It seems a little silly now, I’m thinking, to go through all this. Nonetheless, I grab the feathers from Cupid’s arrow under my shirt and turn, rubbing it over Drakon’s face. He hacks and coughs, spitting pink fibers out.
“What the fuck?”
“Cupid’s arrows are the most potent love potion in the world.”
“No.” Drakon rubs at his face, before looking at me. The raw hunger there comes with something else—tenderness and love, and seeing that blows me away. “We don’t need spells or potions. We’re enough.”
“Oh, baby.” My breath catches in my throat and I know Drakon means every word.
“Let’s go home, little wolf,” Drakon says.