Page 1 of Magic of the Damned

A TOUCH OF BRIMSTONE

MAGIC OF THE DAMNED

They say you should never make a deal with the devil, but what about with the Prince of the Underworld?

Fresh off a breakup and an eviction, I started my day like any other: a book in one hand, a coffee in the other, and faking that can-do attitude inspirational memes are made of. I was ready to take on the world—and I did.

Unfortunately, it was the Underworld.

One freak accident later, I’m standing face to face with the sexy-as-sin and dangerously powerful Prince of the Underworld. He has a few burning questions for me—like how a mere human unlocked the door to the Underworld’s prison and released its prisoners.

I’d sure as hell like to know, too, because I have no freaking clue.

Now, instead of a forgettable bookstore clerk, I’m newly famous for doing the impossible. The wrong people want to thank me, and the rest want me dead. Spoiler alert: The Dark Prince definitely doesn’t want to thank me.

I’ll do anything to get my life back to normal and he’ll do anything to recapture the escapees. We make a deal: He’ll keep my enemies at bay, and I’ll find a way to return the prisoners.

What could possibly go wrong?

CHAPTER 1

Jackson, my ex, red-faced, doubled over and clutching his berries while lambasting me for “overreacting” while sprinkling in variations of “bitch” wasn’t how I expected our three-year relationship to end. But there we were. One of my best friends—or rather one of my ex-best friends—cowered in the corner, hastily trying to dress. She was making a desperate attempt to keep the top sheet she’d swiped off the bed around her.

“Don’t bother with discretion, Ava. I’ve seen you naked before and Jackson definitely has, too.”

She hurriedly put on her shirt and panties, grabbed her pants and shoes, and scurried out of the room. Jackson was huffing and grunting in pain, his hands cradling his cheating stick.

Finding them in bed together was more than just shocking and enraging; it was a revelation about him and our relationship. My discovery made his confidence, which I had adored during our relationship, morph into something ugly. What was on full display when he rolled out of the bed was a cruel audacity that bordered on narcissism. Standing in front of me as naked as the day he was born, his Good and Plentys dangling, he showed no remorse or shame, and his eyes fluttered with annoyance as he mumbled something about it not being what I thought.

In a moment of awestruck incredulity, I was rendered speechless. What?

“Really? It’s not what I think. So, you weren’t just inside Ava with her moaning like she was making an upload for Pornhub. I can assure you; I know what sex looks like. This is exactly what I think.”

He simply jutted out his arrogant, self-entitled jaw in defiance. “Luna, as usual, you’re overreacting. It was an accid?—”

“Accident? Did you trip and fall into her?”

His response, accusing me of being unnecessarily crass, led to me kneeing him in the groin. That wasn’t an accident.

“Where are you, Luna?” Emoni asked, leaning across the counter of the coffee shop of Books and Brew, where I was seated. Her face was just inches from mine. I wondered how long she’d been trying to get my attention. Telling her I’d been thinking about Jackson was out of the question; she’d worry. Something she’d done often over the past few months. Concern had already etched a frown on her face. I flashed her a smile and tapped the book in front of me.

“Sorry. It’s such an interesting read. One of those rare books where you just ruminate over the information,” I lied.

Picking up the book, she grimaced at the title, The Discovery of Magic, then flipped through Post-its I’d used as placeholders, since it was a borrowed book.

“This is so you. You’re finding yourself musing over witches, goblins, fae, vampires, werewolves, and all the freaky things that go bump in the night,” she teased as she returned to restocking the cups. Her tone was light and playful, but I caught the furtive look of concern she gave me.

“No fae or goblins. They don’t specify werewolves, just shifters.”

Her brow hitched. “No.” She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Bad Luna. You will not try to pull me into your world of fantasy. It’s not my thing and you can’t make me.”

“It reads like fiction,” I told her, aware that nothing I said would change her mind.

“But it’s not fiction.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Working at Books and Brew was a reader’s dream job, but of the many things Emoni and I had in common that made us fast friends in college, our reading preferences weren’t among them. They couldn’t be any more different. My tastes were less discerning; if it seemed interesting, I’d give it a try. Emoni loved fiction, biographies, mystery, and thrillers and rarely strayed from those genres. After a moment of silence, each of us giving the other half smiles and persuading looks that had never worked in the past, we ended at an impasse.

---