Page 2 of Obsession

“Wait a second!” He laughs as he picks up the spoon and takes a bite, and then he scoops up another bite and feeds it to me, watching my mouth intently. “Damion, I mean it.”

“And I mean it.” He cups my cheeks, kissing me sweetly. Well, it starts out sweet, but quickly evolves into tongue and teeth, and now I’m finding it hard to breathe.

He stands me up, devouring my body with those beautiful aquamarine-colored eyes of his. “I love the dress. I especially love this part,” he says with a wicked grin.

My skin pebbles in anticipation of what’s to come as I lick my lips. Locking eyes with me as he reaches for the bow on the side that ties the wrap in place, he slowly tugs on the ends. My dress parts like a curtain. And then he disappears.

I do a double take. What just happened?

After I tie my dress, I carry the dishes back downstairs, feeling like I’ve been doused with a bucket of ice water. My phone chimes, and I grab it.

Damion: I’m sorry, a fool chose this moment to make a deal. Let me make it up to you next time.

If I wasn’t so put out that our date was interrupted at the most inopportune of times, I’d almost feel sorry for the fool in question. Man, are they ever going to get the royal screw with that contract.

Me: My contractual obligation is fulfilled. That counted as a date. And IF there is a next time, you will have the opportunity to beg for my forgiveness.

Damion: Challenge accepted.

I slip my garnet stone under my pillow to block Damion from my dreams. He wanted a challenge.

Chapter 2

“What are you making?” I ask Grandma, hopping up on the kitchen counter and surveying the various herbs and amber-colored bottles of essential oils. Our kitchen witch dutifully watches over us, helping with luck and magic in the kitchen.

“We’re out of Hell No Hangover,” Grandma tells me.

“I’m sorry. I meant to take inventory the other day. Things have just been so…” I search for the right word.

“Exciting?” Grandma fills in for me. “Grate the ginger for me, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I pick up the hand grater and get to work. “I dreamed about Mama last night.” I blocked a certain demon from my dreams, only to have one about my mama. Very unusual; I can’t ever recall a time I’ve dreamed about Cora Brooks. But as soon as I woke, the details of the dream slipped through my fingers like trying to hold water in my hands.

“Oh?”

“When I was growing up, so many times I begged you to help me contact Mama. Why would you always say no?”

“Sugar pie, some stones are better left unturned.”

“Ugh, what does that mean?” I don’t know much about my mama, and Grandma is uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the subject.

“Exactly what I said.”

I hop down from the counter and help Grandma pour the soap mixture into the molds. We move quickly, adding the herbs—ginger, chamomile, lavender, and a few others from Grandma’s garden, including thyme. I don’t push her to answer my question about Mama, figuring Grandma will come around in her own time. Besides, in the middle of making spelled soap is probably not the best time to delve into family secrets. Timing is everything, in life and in magic. Okay, time for me to stop.

Focusing our energy, we hold our hands over the soap and chant:

Hangover be gone, washed down the drain.

May the user be free from hangover pain.

“So what happened with your big date? I didn’t hear any carrying on when I got home this morning,” she comments as we walk downstairs and open our metaphysical shop Memphis Magic. We’re just a stone’s throw from the Mississippi River, and right off the trolley stop. Most of our customers are curious tourists, but we also have quite a few regulars who practice magic of various forms. Crystals, essential oils, incenses, candles, and the like line the shelves. A cozy reading nook is situated in the corner with books and various tarot and oracle cards for sale. The more potent magical herbs we keep in the back.

“Thank the Goddess for small favors.”

“I figured you two would still be tangled in the sheets. Hope everything’s okay.” Elvis gives me a look letting me know he’s concerned as well. Two busybody peas in a pod.

“Everything’s fine.”

---