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 feel any sexier. Didn’t feel irresistible. Still, she inched to the front entrance. I can do this. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust. She pushed open the doors. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust. The sound of inane chatter and frantic music filled her ears. Smoke wafted around her, blending with the shadows and creating a dreamlike haze.
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. Predator, his mesmerizing green eyes proclaimed. An irresistible proclamation. She wasn’t sure why he’d come to Mysteria, or what made him so different from other males that she had to have him. Only him.
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. I’m a sexual cauldron of lust, she thought, stepping into the bar.
Two
I’m dead, Hunter Knight thought. So fucking dead.
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 framed a serious little face. Pert nose, huge hazel eyes that sometimes glowed and were always fringed by the prettiest lashes he’d ever seen.
As usual, she mesmerized him.
Right now, in the dim strobelight of the bar, she appeared lovelier than ever. Her barely-there dress—holy hell, she might as well have been naked. Every muscle in his body (even his favorite) hardened to the point of pain. A pair of black boots stretched up her calves, just past her knees, leaving several inches of delicious thigh visible. Cleavage spilled from the deep V of her top. Come over here and lick me, that cleavage said.
What he would have given to take that cleavage up on its offer.
Every time he saw this woman, he experienced an inexorable urge to strip her and ride her. Hard. Ride her till she screamed his name. Ride her till she spasmed around his cock. Now was no different. Her slender body, with its hide-and-seek curves, would fit perfectly against him. Over him. Under him.
His teeth ground together. He wanted her desperately. He’d always wanted her.
And there was no way in hell he could have her.
Loving Genevieve would destroy him. Literally. Being psychic sucked ass. One touch of Genevieve’s lips at their first meeting and he’d known, known, she would somehow kill him if he let himself get involved with her romantically.
That didn’t stop the cravings, however, didn’t stop her image from constantly haunting his dreams. Hell, in that scrap of black material she now wore, she might very well cause his heart to stop or his dick to explode.
“Hunter, will you get me a sex on the beach?” a high-pitched female voice said in front of him. Fairy laughter erupted, ringing like dainty bells.
He forced his gaze away from Genevieve, forced his lips to edge into a semblance of a smile, and met the impish gaze of one of the fairies. “Sure thing, sugar. Sex on the beach, just for you. I’ll even add Knight’s special ingredient.”
More giggling. The girlish sound grated on his every nerve.
He thought he might have slept with one of these horny pixies (maybe all of them?) at some point last year, but at that moment he couldn’t remember when. Or who. Or if they’d had a good time. He didn’t care anymore. Couldn’t get hard unless he thought of Genevieve.
What was it about her that so obsessed him? She was pretty, but other women were prettier. Maybe it was her amazing smell. No one smelled as sweet and intoxicating as Genevieve. Or maybe it was her eyes, so vulnerable. So determined.