Cheyenne Magic Read online

  After Steven and Tessa enjoyed their climaxes, Aria lay on her back for her turn. Ever eager and adventurous, Tessa gave Aria an orgasm that left the Indian woman glowing and moaning, a light sheen of perspiration coating her chest.

  They tumbled together in a pile of sweating bodies. Both of the women fell back asleep. Steven, however, slipped out of bed.

  After throwing on sweats and a T-shirt, he padded silently across the warm floor and into the hallway. That was where he found Mouse, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her face a thunderhead. She was wearing a black nightgown that contrasted sharply against her blonde hair and pale unblemished skin. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Did you have fun?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  Steven felt himself blush. “You heard. We tried to be quiet.”

  “You were quiet, but my hearing is good, really good,” Mouse said, rolling her eyes. “Comes with being a fucking dragon.”

  “Guess I haven’t leveled that high yet,” Steven said sheepishly. “My hearing is pretty normal at this stage.”

  “For now,” she murmured. “The powers come slowly. But I’d trade them all to be human.”

  That surprised Steven. “Why?”

  “Less rules for humans. Less family bullshit to deal with. You get to marry who you want.” Mouse started past him as she slowly shook her head.

  He stopped her with a gentle hand. He noticed her scratching her ring finger with her thumb. That was where her wedding ring had been. Steven, with a little help, had pulled it off her finger. The ring had turned to dust. She was free of Mulk, and yet, it was clear that she still had a lot to deal with.

  “Humans have rules, Mouse,” Steven said. “Marriage and divorce is hard on humans too.” He knew about that firsthand. His father had abandoned him and his mother. If only Joe Whipp had followed the rules.

  Mouse shrugged. She seemed sober, and for once, she wasn’t drinking wine. Her eyes fell on his face. “So, are you going to kick me out since I’m not sleeping with you?”

  Steven made a face. “Fuck no. Look, two weeks ago, I’d barely kissed a girl. And now I have two girlfriends who are basically wives. That’s enough for me. But, Mouse, I’ve seen you look at me. I’m thinking you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

  She sighed. “That’s just it. That’s how it works. I’m drawn to you because of your power and because, well, you’re not just cute, you’re also sweet. That makes it harder. Don’t you see that?”

  “I don’t,” Steven said. “If you think I’m cute and sweet, then what’s the problem?”

  “Everything!” Mouse said loudly. “If I let myself actually care for you … when Mulk comes … if he kills you, then it will hurt. It’ll hurt far more than when I had to marry that fucker in the first place.” The minute the words were out her jaws clenched and tears shone in her eyes.

  Steven took her hand. “We both know Mulk is going to come at us, but for now, we’re safe. Or at least I think we are. Once we get more training, we’ll go on the offensive. Mouse, I’m going to protect you. When I freed you, I promised you that, and I stand by my promises.”

  Mouse stared at their entwined fingers. She lifted their hands and held his to her cheek. “I know you want to protect me. I know you want to be a good guy. But you don’t know the power that Mulk has. He has a dozen wives in his Escort, and most of them are high-level Dragonsouls. He also has hundreds of vassals. Three of them are the worst. He calls them his Terror Trio. They’re human, kind of. After years of collecting Animus, they’re now more like monsters. You met one of them in the Denver Aerie, the Warling Kai Charon. He escaped because he’s a smart fucker.”

  “Tell me about the other two in the trio,” Steven said.

  “The Magician is Gideon Scaramanga, and he’s like old-school scary. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him. All he cares about is power. And he’s done unspeakable things to get it. He doesn’t like sex. He kills to get Animus—kills, tortures, whatever, whoever.” She shuddered again.

  “And the third?” Steven asked.

  She nodded. “Rounding out the fearsome threesome is Karlos Butcher, a Morphling who can change shape at will. But he likes being a wereboar the most—huge, awful, long tusks. He sometimes puts poison on them.”

  Steven nodded. “So a Warling, a Magician, and a Morphling.” He’d read in the Drokharis Grimoire that some humans could channel Animus to unlock magical skills. Tessa was an example of that; she was casting spells now, a low-level Magician, but every day she gained more power.

  Mouse dropped his hand and pushed him back. “If the Terror Trio shows up on our doorstep, we’re fucked. We won’t survive. They’ll kill you, and I’ll be taken back to Mulk.” She shuddered. “And Judith.”

  Steven had heard how sadistic Mulk and his oldest wife were. Mouse hadn’t told them everything, but she had admitted a little of what those sick assholes had done to her.

  “Mouse, you forget, I’m also powerful. That’s why Mulk wants me dead. Well, he underestimated me, just like how you’re doubting me now. And not just me, but Tessa and Aria as well. We’re tough and we’re smart. If someone would’ve told you that two low-level Dragonsouls, with a novice Magician, could storm into Mulk’s Denver Aerie and take out one of his main vassals, what would you have said?”

  “I wouldn’t have bet on you,” Mouse admitted. “I couldn’t quite believe it, and I was there. When I squared off with Aria, I figured she was toast.”

  “Yeah and look what happened.” Steven waited for her to respond. Realization slowly crept across her face. Or was that acceptance?

  A single tear dropped down her cheek. She crossed the distance between them and held Steven to her trembling body. “I get so scared, Steven. The fear is so sharp. It cuts me. It cuts me every single minute of every single day.”

  Steven had his own doubts, and he knew Mouse needed to hear a little about them. “I get scared too, Mouse. We’d be stupid if we weren’t afraid. But I also know that I’m not your typical Dragonsoul. Neither was my father. You know Mulk murdered the Drokharis clan because of our power. I have that power running through my veins. And when I get scared, I think of that. And I think about the shitty things Mulk has done. Then I get mad. I’m going to make him pay. Count on it.”

  “Revenge is a good motivation,” Mouse said. She pushed her face into his chest. “I can get on board with that. I’ll try to fight the fear, Steven. Or maybe I can …”

  Her voice fell away. She remained quiet while he held her.

  “Maybe you can do what?” Steven asked.

  “Maybe I can do some shit to help. But I don’t want to talk about that with you. Not yet.”

  Holding her, smelling her almond smell, Steven couldn’t help but get excited again.

  Mouse felt it. “Easy there, big boy. I’m definitely not ready for that. But I’m close. Do you know why I was out here in the hallway?”

  “Tell me,” Steven said.

  “I heard you guys having sex,” Mouse replied with a sigh. “I thought about going in there to join you. But then I had memories of Mulk and Judith. When you and I finally do get together, Steven, it has to be on my terms, and it has to be just us. Is that okay?”

  Steven chuckled. “Mouse, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just glad to see you not drinking.”

  Another trembling sigh quaked through her body. “Yeah, about that. I’m going to lay off the booze for a bit. If I can. I had to drink when I was married to that abusive bastard. But now, I don’t need it. Or at least I don’t want to need it.”

  “I’m glad to hear—”

  An explosion ripped through the place, shattering windows, flinging shrapnel, and cutting off his words like a knife blade.

  Steven had never been more ready for a fight. He was going to show Mouse that she hadn’t made a mistake by joining him. He was going to protect her, and if it was Mulk, he was going to kill him. Scorched. Fucking. Earth.

  When Aria had first offered Steven a life as a Dragonsoul, she’d told Steven that a Dragonsoul’s life was sex and violence, love and battle.

  The sex was over.

  Time for the violence to begin.

  THREE

  Tessa jerked awake at the sound of the ferocious explosion and the ring of battle floating through the air. Aria was up, already transformed into her Homo Draconis form. Half dragon and half human, sleek and scaled, Aria slid through the doorway and out into the living room like the deadly predator she was.

  Tessa, though, wasn’t about to run out there naked. She fished a dress off the hardwood floor and flung it on. In a flash, she strapped on her holsters—two of them—with leather straps for her thighs. She’d had to put a few extra notches in the straps because she wasn’t the size of a twig-thin man, but a woman with thick thighs. She didn’t have time to cinch them, and so they dangled against her bare skin. She liked the weight of the big Colt Peacekeepers, nineteenth-century pistols that had been enchanted to hurt Dragonsouls. Runes had been etched into the silver barrels, but the secret was the bullets. They were what did the killing, after all.

  Having leather and buckles against her skin wasn’t anything new to her. Though she was young, she’d had her fair share of experiences in the kink community.

  She shouldered on the leather satchel that held their most prized possessions, the Drokharis Grimoire and the topaz pen. Steven was a sweetie, a real college student even, but when it came to studying magic, she’d left him in the dust ages ago. Every spare moment she had was spent reading that book. Unlike her entire experience with school, twelve years of public education, she couldn’t get enough. She loved studying magic as much as she liked coffee, and for a professional barista, that was saying something.

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sp; Before bolting out into the living room of the Lookout Mountain Aerie, she went to the window. The sun was shining down through the pine trees. The highway below was clear of people. She wasn’t sure who was attacking them. It didn’t matter. She was going to do her part.

  Was this really her life? It felt unbelievable. Not two weeks before, she’d been working a dead-end job at the Coffee Clutch, wondering what she was doing with her life and why she felt special. Two weeks ago, she hadn’t been very special, and despite her love of sex and her open mind, there was nothing very unique about her. Now? She was a Magician, in love with two dragons, and readying herself for battle.

  A green streak broke from the trees—a serpentine body, fifteen feet long, with wings the color of moss and a reptilian face. No beard. It wasn’t a male Dragonsoul. The female filled her wings with wind, paused, and then opened her fanged maw to unleash a sparking arc of lightning. This Dragonsoul was using her ElectroArc Exhalant. The energy struck the windows and they blasted inward, sparkling shards flying in a sheet.

  At the last second, Tessa made a hand gesture, as familiar now as grinding coffee beans, and then she shouted, “Magica Defensio!” The shattering glass struck her pink shield spell, the sharp debris creating rose-colored slashes in the air. She was safe from the glass …

  But not from the dragon. The emerald creature latched onto the window fame with her front claws, each one the size of a bratwurst. Her vertically slitted eyes locked onto Tessa. She lunged forward, jaws wide, ready to snap Tessa in half.

  Instead, her head flew back in an explosion of pink. Thank you, shield spell.

  Tessa snatched a pistol out of a hostler. She slowed her breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth—and fired on the exhale as the muzzle dropped onto her target. Aria was surprisingly competent with a gun, and she’d taught Tessa the basics. The pistol kicked in her hand, the muzzle belching out bright green fire. A hole bloomed in the side of the Dragonsoul’s neck.

  The female shrieked, hurled herself away from the window, and went soaring off over the trees, readying for another attack.

  Tessa whirled and sped from the room and into the nightmare of battle. A dozen mercenaries in modern warfare battle gear filled the room, and the ropes they’d rappelled down dangled outside the windows. She thought of the countless hours she’d spent playing Call of Duty. These guys were covered in matte-black Kevlar and wielded sleek automatic M4s, like NPCs sent in as support.

  The mercs weren’t the problem though. Steven and Aria could handle them without breaking a sweat, like so many times before.

  No, what worried Tessa were the three men with them. These jokers had so much Animus she could almost smell it. They weren’t Dragonsouls, though; they were something else.

  One, she recognized—Kai Charon, one of Mulk’s Warlings. He was medium height, with a shaved head, a slight beard, and sharp features. Garish in his purple suit, he wielded a glowing katana in one hand and a beefy .45 in the other. On Charon’s left stood a dark-skinned spark plug of a man with a huge beard falling down his barrel chest. He wore a West African dashiki shirt and cut-off denim shorts. On his feet were thick sandals that looked Guatemalan. Tessa had an appreciation for Central American footwear.

  On the Warling’s right was a tall, gaunt man, almost colorless, he was so pale. Greasy, long white hair swept down from his head, though he was balding. He was a repugnant person with humorless eyes, hollow cheeks, and slim lips. Dirt smudged his face and his fingers were black with grime. A stained dress shirt hung off his skeletal frame, and his pants were slashed and gashed. He looked like a homeless person in need of meds, a bed, and a hot meal.

  The three had already taken down Aria and Steven, both in their Homo Draconis forms. The two were on the floor, writhing in pain as bloody red chains of bright sizzling light bound their serpentine limbs together. Mouse still stood, barely, and she held the gleaming Slayer Blade in a defensive stance.

  When Tessa burst into the room, all eyes turned on her. She did a little math. Steven’s force, four in all, were up against at least sixteen attackers, which included a Dragonsoul, three ultra-tough assassins, and twelve humans armed to the teeth.

  Well, she had eleven bullets. Time to start evening the odds. Instead of drawing the left Colt, she hefted her right Peacekeeper with two hands, the grip resting on her palm. It was double-action, so squeezing the trigger pulled the hammer back and sent a bullet flying at the tallest of the trio—the skeletal homeless guy. Their Magician, if Tessa had to bet.

  He raised a hand and spat out, “Magica Defensio.” There was a flare of crimson, and her bullet whined off his shield. The shield was made of the same bloody red light that had Aria and Steven pinned down. But when the Magician was forced to cast a spell to save his skin, it broke his other spell.

  Steven and Aria were free, but they were slow to get up. That binding spell must’ve hurt. Steven teetered up first.

  At the same time, all twelve mercenaries turned their compact M4s on Tessa. The noise of the gunfire slammed into her eardrums. Gun smoke misted the air, filled with the stench of gunpowder. Her shield spell was still up, and those bullets created explosions of pink in front of her. Their bullets weren’t going to do shit to her. She still had four bullets to distribute. She aimed and fired, aimed and fired. Slow and steady, picking each shot.

  Before her dad died, he’d taken her to the shooting range, so she knew how to hit a target, and with Aria’s extra training, she was spot-on. And after playing Left 4 Dead in her formative years, she knew to focus on headshots.

  Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow. Four of the mercenaries dropped with big holes in their skulls. Tessa felt Animus fill her, their spiritual energy powering her. Good. She’d need to cast a buttload of spells before this was over.

  “Butcher, take out the bitch with the gun!” the gaunt Magician snarled. “Charon, will you please chop up these two into dragon meat?”

  The squat, dark-skinned man grew four times bigger even as his body changed. His hands solidified into hooves. His clothes and skin transformed into pink skin with dark bristling hair. Watching all that was horrible, but even worse was what happened to his face. Tusks, three feet long, ripped out of his mouth. His nose cracked out of his skull, becoming a snout dripping mucus. His eyes shrank until they were red dots, deeply recessed in his pig’s face. The barnyard stench of him struck her nose—a wet animal smell.

  A wereboar. A big one. Butcher squealed and thundered through the couch, coming for Tessa. “Oh, fuck that action,” she hissed. She holstered her right gun, drew her left, and took hold of it with both hands.

  Meanwhile, Charon blurred forward, raising his katana, ready to chop Steven’s head from his neck. Before his blade could come down, though, Mouse was there, moving like the wind given living form, easily matching Charon step for step. They were both using SerpentGrace—one of the many abilities from the Pugna side of the skill tree. Mouse caught the descending sword on the Slayer Blade. With a grunt, she drove a foot into the Warling’s gut, doubling him over as he wheezed for breath. That kind of raw power could only mean one thing: she’d charged up the blow with the DragonStrength ability.

  Mouse shot straight in and brought her broadsword screaming down onto his back, but it bounced off, thanks to his DarkArmor skill. The newest addition to Steven’s Escort had her work cut out for her. The Warling was strong and well-trained.

  But Tessa couldn’t think about that. Not now. She had worries of her own. Namely, a pissed-off wereboar.

  Her shield spell snapped off, so she cast another one. Just in time.

  She angled the pink force field to protect herself from Butcher the demon pig. But that dick was smart. He flung himself to the side, knocked against the shield with his flank, and then charged around. Hooves clattered across the stone floor as the boar outmaneuvered her shield and charged inside her guard.

  A yellow tusk knocked her pistol out of her hand, and it went spinning away.

  Tessa clenched a fist and pulled her shield inward, sideswiping the beefy boar and sending him onto his side for a second.

  She dashed for her fallen gun, but suddenly found herself facing three Kevlar-clad mercenaries. Two took aim at her with their rifles while another snapped open a battle baton that glowed a sickly green color. He feinted left then shot in right, baton ready to smack her across the face. Who knew what that magic stick would do to her?