Shamelessly Spellbound (Spells That Bind Book 2) (2 page)

In the waiting room, I found Mr. Whiskers cuddling with a
teen zombie. Zombie wasn’t the politically correct term. I’d been lectured on
the importance of respecting the undead by a necromancer who’d worked on
Night
High
two seasons back. Technically, the kid was a reanimated corpse,
meaning a necromancer had cast a spell soon after his death to bind his soul to
his body. That necromancer’s magic was the only thing keeping the kid alive.
Reanimated corpses hated the term zombie since it implied they were stupid and
dangerous. To the best of my knowledge, there’d never been any major killing
sprees by reanimated corpses, and they didn’t crave human flesh. Actually,
reanimated corpses were strictly vegan.

The kid was petting a purring Mr. Whiskers, looking somewhat
lost. Most probably wouldn’t notice he was undead. He looked like many of the
other teens I saw on the street. He had longish hair dyed a hideous shade of
green. His skin had likely been pale before he’d died, but he still had a hint
of pink to his cheeks. Sadly, that color wouldn’t last long. Humans would think
he looked sickly, while those in the preternatural community would call him
the
undead kid
, because most people were assholes. Reanimated corpses weren’t
the only undead, but they did get the least respect. Ironically, the kid was
wearing a Rob Zombie t-shirt, making me wonder if he was a smart ass, or if he
simply liked Rob Zombie.

“Time to go,” I called out to Mr. Whiskers, who completely
ignored me in favor of basking in the attention the kid was lavishing on him.
The only thing my familiar loved more than being petted was dead things, so
being petted by a reanimated corpse was like a dream come true, and it was
going to be a real challenge to get him out of the office. “If you come with
me, I promise to pick up something smelly and dead on the way to the sitter’s
house.” I knew I’d regret that promise when I was fighting to get the smell out
of my car later, but I was going to be late for my dress fitting if I didn’t
get my familiar moving soon.

Finally, Mr. Whiskers looked over at me. “He smells so
good.” he said with a sigh.

The kid gave me a sad smile, and I felt bad for him. It was
tough enough being a teen, but throw in the corpse thing and you weren’t
getting a lot of invitations to hang out. He could no longer spend time with
the living because eventually someone would figure out he didn’t have a
heartbeat. A good Necromancer could keep his flesh from rotting or things from
falling off, but in the end, reanimated corpses were still dead.

“He’s lonely,” Mr. Whiskers told me sadly, and I wasn’t
completely heartless, so I couldn’t help but feel bad for the kid.

“Do you have a job?” I asked.

The kid shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

It was refreshing to meet a polite teen, and it made me want
to help him, even though I wasn’t sure I liked how old it made me feel when
someone called me ma’am. I fished out a business card and handed it to him.
“We’re setting up a teen focus group in the San Francisco office, and I think
you’d be a good fit.”

I made a mental note to arrange for a focus group to be set
up in the San Francisco office—one that needed a few reanimated corpses. It
would probably help the kid make some new friends.

The kid looked at the card and got so excited, he almost
looked alive. “
Night High
? I love that show! I used to watch it all the
time when . . .” His voice trailed off. He’d been about to say that he’d
watched it all the time when he was alive. Mr. Whiskers cuddled in further as
if to comfort the kid.

As for me, this focus group was beginning to sound like a
really good idea. I was curious about why he’d stopped watching when he’d died,
and I wondered if the show simply didn’t appeal to reanimated corpses.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jeremy,” he replied. “Do you really think they’ll want me
on the focus group?”

“Sure. It might be boring most days,” I warned.

He gave me a shy smile. “I don’t care. Anything’s better
than sitting around the house wishing my mom had let me die.”

I had no clue what to say to that, but hopefully the
therapist would be able to help him.

With a sigh, I decided I was going to have to get pushy with
my familiar, or I’d miss my dress fitting. Then, I suddenly wondered if that
was such a bad thing. Thankfully, my demon therapist came out to get the teen,
so Mr. Whiskers followed me out of the room.

I laid back on the sofa and closed my eyes. The idea of
seeing a therapist had never crossed my mind, but I was ready to admit that I
was losing my mind, and it had all started with the bitchiest witch I’d ever
met.

“I know people look at me and see this guy who loves to
party and fuck any witch who’ll spread her legs. I’m not denying that I’ve had
a lot of pussy. I mean, so much, I’d need an accountant to work the numbers to
tell you how much pussy I’ve had. The thing is, I don’t sleep around because I
want to be the world’s biggest man-whore. I honestly believed each of those
witches might have ended up being the one.”

Opening my eyes, I saw the arched eyebrow rise in doubt.
“Every one of them?” she asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, and then closed it, deciding
to be completely honest. “Not the ones in the last few months. Those have just
been to prove I could get past Melina Blackwood. From the moment I saw her,
she’s been my one and only obsession. Before you say anything, I know I’ve had
other obsessions—way more obsessions than any warlock should have—but this is
different. Most of the witches I’ve been with have been pretending to be
something they’re not to impress me. Melina’s never tried that bullshit. She is
far from the sweet-tempered witches I’m used to, and I want her. I need her. I
fucking crave her in a way that has me waking up every night, aching with
arousal. My family works in love, so how is it that I can’t make the one witch
I want in my life give me the time of day?”

“Listen, Trevor,” Allie began, looking up from her laptop.
“I love you. You know you are one of my best friends, but I have work to do. I
also did not want to hear that you need an accountant to figure out how many
women you’ve had. That is way too much sharing. I’m not your shrink, and I
can’t play matchmaker for you with Mel. She has good reasons for avoiding
relationships with warlocks.”

“So did you,” I argued. Allie was dead set against getting
involved with a warlock until my buddy Dylan convinced her they belonged
together. That had been no easy task, and I hadn’t been at all sure Allie could
get past her trust issues enough to give Dylan a chance. Long story short,
things had worked out wonderfully for them. They were getting married in a
week, which was great. I was happy for them. I was also jealous because I
wanted that with a witch who’d gone so far as to change her number to avoid me.
“Is it the same situation with Mel? Is she afraid I’ll cheat on her because I’m
a warlock?”

Allie grabbed her phone, pretending to look at something on
the screen. She was stalling. I’d first met Allie in high school, and we’d
reconnected several months ago. Surprisingly, I’d never been attracted to
Allie. Don’t get me wrong; I could admit that she was hot with her long brown hair,
whisky-colored eyes, and full lips. Even in the prim black business suit she
had on today, there was no disguising her impressive body. Still, I’d never
seen her as more than a friend.

“Allie?” I pushed.

“It’s not exactly a trust issue,” she finally admitted.

“Then what is it?” I asked. “I know she wants me.”

Allie rolled her eyes and muttered something about me being
an arrogant ass.

“I’m not being arrogant,” I argued. “We both know I’m
attractive. A lot of witches want me.”

“Trevor,” Allie began patiently, “despite what you may
think, bragging about how many women want you is not a way to endear any witch
to you, especially Mel.”

“Whatever,” I said, waving off her words. “You know as well
as I do that Mel wants me.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s going to allow anything to come of
her wanting you,” Allie pointed out. “As I’ve already said, Mel has her reasons
for avoiding a relationship with you.”

“And you know what those reasons are, don’t you?” I could
tell by the way she looked down at her keyboard before answering that she knew,
but she wasn’t going to tell me. “Don’t bother lying to me about it. We both
know you suck at lying.”

“It’s her story to tell,” Allie pointed out. “Trevor, I have
an interview in ten minutes, so I need to get ready.”

Allie had worked at a sex club, setting up scenes for
customers, until her boss had tried to kill her. While she’d hated the job, for
the most part, she’d enjoyed working with couples. As a succubus, she was great
at helping people with their fantasies, which is why she’d decided to start her
own business helping couples plan fantasy getaways, complete with shopping for
all the necessary accessories. Her company was simply named Bliss. I’d thought
it was too generic to attract clientele, but she had a waiting list of clients,
even though she hadn’t officially opened the doors yet. I felt a little bad
about barging in on her to talk about my obsession with her cousin when I knew
she was busy, but not guilty enough to give up.

“Allie,” I pleaded, giving her the sad puppy eyes. “I need
her.”

Looking at me with a serious expression, Allie obviously
wasn’t convinced Melina was the witch for me.

“She’ll be at the wedding,” Allie pointed out before looking
at her computer again. That wasn’t exactly news since Allie had somehow convinced
Melina to be in the wedding. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to talk to her.
With the reception at Dylan’s parents’ home, there will be lots of places you
can
talk
.”

I grinned. While she hadn’t said the words, Allie was
clearly telling me to go after Melina.

I was at the dress fitting from hell!

It’s not like I hadn’t already realized how much I hated the
bridesmaids’ dresses Allie had picked for us to wear. My hatred of those
dresses was one of the biggest reasons I was having my final fitting so close
to the wedding. The witch at the dress shop was clearly annoyed with me over
the last minute fitting, and she’d made a point of stabbing me with several
pins.

“If you stab me one more time, I’m going to kick your ass,”
I threatened in a sweet voice with a smile pasted on my face.

The blonde Barbie of a witch hadn’t been expecting me to
threaten her, and she jerked back, yanking out the pin she’d been about to
stick me with. Admittedly, I had no proof she was going to stick me with the
pin, but judging by the last five minutes, it was a safe bet.

“Mel!” Allie called out from the entrance to the fitting
area. “Stop threatening the poor woman. She’s just frazzled about getting your
dress ready on time for the wedding.”

“Dress?” I asked, looking down at the skin tight, strapless,
ice-blue fabric that barely covered my ass. “This is a belt, Allie.”

“It looks fantastic on you,” Barbie piped in with complete
sincerity.

I snorted my disbelief. “Now I know why you keep stabbing me
with pins. You obviously don’t see very well.”

Barbie wrinkled her nose at my comment, and I almost
regretted being rude to her when she was trying to be nice. That is, I might
have regretted it if she hadn’t stuck me with so many pins already.

“She’s right, Mel,” Allie told me. “I picked those dresses
with you in mind. You’re the only one of my bridesmaids with the curves to pull
it off.”

Allie’s other bridesmaids were her sisters, who were all
tall and slender. They also glided along in the heels we'd be wearing at the
wedding. The fact that Allie had somehow been talked into making her sisters
bridesmaids was the only reason I’d agreed to be in her wedding. I’d avoided
being a bridesmaid for the first thirty years of my life. Even my own sisters
hadn’t talked me into it, but I knew how awkward things were between Allie and
her sisters.

Allie’s dad is a man-whore warlock, and Allie’s mom was one
of many women he’d slept with before his wife got tired of him and ended their
marriage. Allie was the only off-spring from those affairs, and she hadn’t
spent much time around her sisters growing up. I had no idea how Allie’s dad
had talked her into asking her sisters to be in the wedding, but she’d called
me, freaking out, right after they’d agreed.

“This is the thanks I get for doing something nice for my
cousin,” I grumbled. “Everyone is going to see my big ass pop out of this
dress.”

Barbie giggled, and I was beginning to hate her less since
she seemed to get my sense of humor. “Sorry,” Barbie said, fighting back her
laughter. “I still say it looks great on you, and I promise your backside won’t
pop out.”

“Seriously, Mel, you look fantastic in that dress,” Allie
insisted. “Trevor is going to trip over his own feet when he walks you up the
aisle.”

“Trevor?” I gasped. “You didn’t say anything about Trevor.”

“He is Dylan’s best friend,” Allie reminded me, which made
me feel like an idiot for reacting the way I had.

I knew Trevor would be at the wedding, yet I’d still been
hoping to avoid any contact with him—literally avoid contact. Touching Trevor
was very bad, and not just because his touch got me so wet I was worried I’d
embarrass myself. I had good reasons for only dating demons, all involving my
demon powers. With Trevor, I sometimes forgot all the good reasons I had for not
dating warlocks.

“Earth to Melina,” Allie called out to me, and I could tell
she was laughing at me, so I glared back at her. “Stop giving me the death
stare. I promise Trevor is only being paired with you for the ceremony. We even
avoided having a special table for the wedding party to keep you away from him
at the reception. I also scheduled the rehearsal dinner for a time you can’t
make.”

“You did?” I was shocked that she’d do something like that.

“Yeah, Trevor’s been asking about you, so I figured it was
best to keep you apart as much as possible.”

My stupid heart was beating faster after hearing Trevor had
been asking about me. I hated that I was excited about him wanting to see me.
That’s one of the reasons I’d made such an effort to avoid him in the last few
months. Staying away from him was hard, even though I knew it was the smart
thing to do.

“Good,” I said. “The last thing I need is that annoying
man-whore warlock trying to flirt with me.”

“You know, Mel, Trevor’s not a bad guy,” Allie began.

“No offense, Allie, but I’m not sure you’re the best one to
make that call,” I pointed out. “As I recall, you recently had a friend try to
kill you.”

“He wasn’t planning to kill me,” Allie argued before
laughing. “Okay, I’m not the best judge of character in most cases, but
Trevor’s a nice guy.”

I wanted to argue, mostly because I’m bitchy and arguing
works for me, but I agreed with Allie. Trevor was a nice guy. “You’re right. I
know he’s not a complete man-whore. That would actually work out better for me.
Trevor is looking for his forever witch, and we both know I don’t have that in
me.”

Allie shrugged without looking at me. There was definitely
something the annoying succubus wasn’t telling me.