Titles by Shannon Curtis
McCormack Security Agency series
Viper’s Kiss
Guarding Jess
For Her Eyes Only
Once Upon A Crime series (novellas)
Enamoured
Enraptured
The Knight Family series
Runaway Lies
Heart Breaker
Shadow Breeds series
Tribal Law (prequel)
Lycan Unleashed
Warrior Untamed
Vampire Undone
Wolf Undaunted
Witch Hunter
The Bold and The Beautiful
Collision Course
Stormswept
Sunset Love
Novellas
Mistletoe Maverick
Saving Santa
The Girl Who Saw Too Much
Warrior in Time
Creepin’ It Real
SafeKeepers Inc
Easy Target
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COPYRIGHT © 2023 SHANNON Curtis
ISBN: 9798376423790
Published by Info Block Press, Hurlstone Park NSW 2193, Australia
Infoblock.com.au
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any manner whatsoever—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—without permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, and teaching materials. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Typesetting by DP Plus
Dedication
For Daphne, Erin Moira, Kaz, and Paula—
Thank you for the plot busting, the wine, cheese and giggles.
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Contents
Titles by Shannon Curtis
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the author
Chapter 1
Y ou have a mark on your hand—
Oh, sorry. I washed them before I left work,
Harriette ‘Harry’ Swalwell said, pulling her hand back to scrutinize her palm.
Madam Ruth, the wizened little woman sitting across from her with hair that may have been a fiery red at one point, but now looked like a tired muddy orange peeping out of a faded, lopsided turban, frowned, then reached for her hand again. I meant this mark,
she muttered, tracing a line in Harry’s hand. Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. Not a stain from work, then. Although, with her job as a morpho medic, you could never be too careful.
Madam Ruth twisted her hand toward the candle to see better. Harry could understand a need for ambience, and the candles placed strategically around the room certainly helped set the mood for dark intimacy, secrets, shadows ... blah blah. They also masked a lot of the dinge in the dingy interior of the witch’s parlor. But seriously, the woman had to be seventy in the shade—and there was a lot of shade in her shabby little ‘reading’ room—surely a decorative little lamp with good wattage wouldn’t go astray?
Harry glanced about the room. The walls of Madam Ruth’s parlor were covered in dark green, the paint peeling in some places. The round table they sat at was covered by a swathe of dark red velvet fabric—or maybe brown. It was hard to tell in this light. Two banks of shelves housed books, decks of tarot cards, bowls, cups, jars containing God only knew what—ugh, was that an eye?
What if she misread a palm? What if the old witch read a short lifeline as a short laugh line, or something?
Madame Ruth flicked her an exasperated look. I can see just fine.
Harry’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t said anything. Damn. Witches were way too sneaky. Too good at poking their noses in minds where they didn’t belong. She carefully pulled up a mental shield. Try reading that, witch.
The old woman eyed her with curiosity. You’re good.
Harry nodded. I am.
She was an empath, and she’d had to learn the value of strong defenses. She was constantly running checks on her shields. And she was damned good at her job as a medic to shifters. That required a special skill—being able to understand human and animal anatomy, and be able to trace down sources of pain in order to assist the doctors in doing their thing—without being constantly assailed by others’ emotions. You needed to shield yourself from crashing waves of pain all day long. And fear, misery, grief, anger...
Your fate—it’s very strong. The line,
Madam Ruth clarified, turning her attention back to Harry’s palm. She trailed her fingertip down a crease in the skin. It merges with your life.
Harry waited, then frowned when it seemed nothing more was forthcoming. Is that good or bad?
Madam Ruth shrugged. It simply is.
Harry rolled her eyes. She was blowing a chunk of her wage on this woman, but not for this ‘it is what it is’ crud.
Madam Ruth sighed, then met Harry’s gaze. I can see darkness—
Harry eyed the parlor meaningfully. Nothing a good light wouldn’t sort out.
The woman’s grip on her hand tightened. I meant with you, dingbat. You carry a darkness with you.
Harry’s brow dipped, and she lowered her gaze to their hands. She knew about the darkness. That wasn’t a surprise. That’s why I’m here,
she told the witch. I can’t...
she rolled her free hand as she sought for the right words. I can’t connect with anyone because of it,
she said finally. I need to ... forget it. Sort of.
The witch squeezed her hand, forcing her gaze back to up. Honey, I need you to tell me exactly what you want. You wanna forget-me spell? I can make you forget, you can walk out of here a completely new person...?
"Uh, no, not that. Well, not quite that. Sort of." Hell, this was harder than she thought it would be.
Madam Ruth leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. I can wait. It’s your dime.
Harry took a deep breath. Okay. We’re coming up to Valentine’s Day ... and you know what happens on Valentine’s Day,
she said. Everyone looking for a mate was out on the prowl. Humans knew it was a good opportunity for a hook up, as did the shifters—but the shifters also knew the usual resistance between the breeds was lower, and the chances of finding a mate were correspondingly higher.
The old woman closed her eyes, as if praying for patience. You wanna get laid?
No! I mean, yes, of course—
it had been way too long between overnight sleepovers of the carnal kind, and, well, didn’t everyone? I mean, I know that I can be a little—
Rude?
No—
Uptight?
Uh, let’s go with that,
Harry said, then frowned. Wait—you think I’m rude?
"What I think doesn’t matter. What do you think?" Madam Ruth asked.
I think I need another witch,
Harry muttered. Not a shrinky witch.
Rude it is, then.
Look, I need a love potion,
Harry continued hurriedly.
Madam Ruth’s mouth twisted. Yeah, I can see that.
Harry tried not to take offence. The woman scratched behind her ear, and Harry was momentarily distracted by her shifting turban. You know who ya wanna use it on?
Ah, me,
Harry said.
The woman blinked. You wanna love yourself? Honey, you don’t need a spell for that, I got some wands—
Whoa,
Harry said, holding her hands to stop—dear, God, please stop—the woman’s words. "No, I’m not in the market for one of your wands."
Are you sure? I’ve got a beautiful elm wand in there. It’s got knots,
the woman said, waggling her eyebrows.
Ew, no,
she said with a quick shake of her head. Ouch. Splinters. "I’m not comfortable with drugging someone else. I want to find someone who genuinely wants to be with me, and not because they drank something that made them think they want to be with me."
Oh, honey, I’m so confused. You want to use the love potion on ... you?
Yes. I don’t want this ... darkness to be what people respond to.
The witch blinked, still confused, and Harry sighed. Two years ago, I ... lost someone. It’s—it’s been hard for me to connect with anyone since,
she admitted in a near whisper.
Madam Ruth’s confusion cleared, and sympathy flickered briefly in the woman’s eyes. You need to get out of your own way,
she said, nodding. You’re your own worst enemy.
Uh, I don’t know if I’d put it quite like that—
No, but I would,
the witch said, rising to her feet. You need love potion number nine.
Harry’s eyebrows rose. That’s oddly specific. Not number eight, or ten? Or two point seven?
Not unless you want to attract a vampire, a troll or ... a fairy?
the witch said as she ambled over to the shelves and started collecting bottles. Thankfully, she didn’t touch the one with the bobbing eyes.
Harry blinked. Oh, um, not so much.
Madam Ruth nodded as she took down a bowl and made her slow way over to the sink. I can make you up a mix right here.
Oh.
Harry frowned. Are you sure you don’t need me to come back for it? Maybe it needs to marinate, or you need to make sure you’ve got the right spell...?
She’d worked emergency one night after a man had drunk a potion that was supposed to make his bald head hairy, but instead he’d turned into an old red fairy. A painful shift for him, lots of confusion, and it had taken her two weeks to get the fairy dust out of her clothes.
Madam Ruth waved a hand. I could do this one in my sleep. It’s a good ’un.
Harry screwed up her nose as the witch started to mix the ingredients. Jeez Louise, that stinks. She tried to breathe through her mouth to avoid the stench, but then it was worse, like she could taste it.
She held the hem of her white tank top up to her nose. That is rank.
The witch spoke in a low voice, in a language that Harry didn’t understand, and then held a match to the surface of the liquid. Harry flinched at the resulting sparks, the puff of smoke, and then it was apparently done. The old woman grabbed an empty bottle and poured the concoction into it. She screwed a cap down on it with a smile of satisfaction, then turned and held it out to Harry.
There. Love potion number nine. It’s good for two weeks, then I’d get rid of any that’s left.
Harry frowned, staring at the bottle. The liquid was a vibrant magenta color. What happens after two weeks?
Do you really want to find out?
Harry shook her head hurriedly, and the witch made her way over to the table and gave her the bottle. What do I need to know?
she asked the woman. As a morpho medic, she always made sure to give her patients clear instructions when leaving the clinic. She would expect that witchy potions could be just as dangerous as the morphosis meds they handed out.
You need to think about your heart’s desire when you drink it. A couple of sips should do, don’t guzzle it. It’s not one of those ‘the more, the better’ mixes. I don’t need another nympho story connected to my business,
she warned.
Harry frowned. Another? What exactly does this do?
It loosens you up a little bit,
the witch said, shrugging. Not a dancing on tables kind of loose—unless that’s your heart’s desire ... Alcohol can do that just as easily. No, this will relax you, make you open to meeting who you need to meet.
