Chapter 2 The Curse
The Curse
Two weeks later
Beam had been down hard before lots of times, but never like this. She couldn’t get that godsdamned goat out of her head for a single instant.
Greta had warned her not to fuck with a satyr, literally or figuratively, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.
And he’d been really fucking hot. Lean and hard in all the right ways with dark fur covering him from his waist down to his midnight black hooves.
Acres of long black hair he wore loose behind him like a cape.
And a smirk that was exactly as cocky as she liked.
The vaguely condescending expression he wore as his creepy eyes scanned over every inch of her body with obvious appreciation had really turned her crank too. Deep mossy green orbs with eerie vertical pupils should have been a turn off, right? Dead wrong, actually.
And what was even worse? That last time in the bathroom when the fucker had left her hanging, he’d done something to her.
She’d felt the grip of his magic take hold.
Rather than fight, she’d rolled over and submitted.
She still had no idea why, except that the seductive touch of his magic had felt too good as it wrapped around her like the finest silk ropes.
Even when it had tightened like a noose with her captured inside it.
Since that moment, she hadn’t been able to get off, no matter what she did.
She got turned on. Oh, boy howdy, did she ever get turned on.
All the time. It felt like she was always aroused.
But no matter what she tried, she couldn’t come.
She’d tried everything: fingers, vibrators, and dildos of all shapes and sizes—including the really weird ones.
She’d even tempted a very well-endowed panther shifter into one of the back rooms of the club, but his cock hadn’t been anywhere near as satisfying as that fucking goat who occupied every second of her thoughts.
Since she’d never in her life had a difficult time achieving an orgasm, by herself or with other people, she assumed it had to be his fault. And the more she failed to get to a climax, the hornier she got. It was becoming a legitimate problem.
She blinked, irritated with herself for letting her mind wander again, and focused through her magnifying goggles on the piece of jewelry she was working on.
The pair of emerald-studded nipple piercings had already taken her at least three times as long as they should have to finish.
Her magic fizzled and flickered and didn’t want to cooperate.
Her hands were clammy. She rubbed her thighs together to try to soothe the ache between her legs but all it did was make it worse.
Beam blew out an annoyed breath.
“What’s with you lately?” Greta asked. She was waiting on the hardware for a client, and even she had noticed that it was taking too long.
She didn’t look Greta’s way and continued to focus on the piece in front of her. “You have any idea where I can find that satyr?”
“Oh, you fucking didn’t!” Greta laughed. “After I warned you and everything?”
Beam clenched her teeth. “A little less ‘I told you so’ and a little more information would be ideal.”
Greta whistled. “They are into some kinky shit too.”
Beam aimed a withering look in her best friend’s direction.
Greta held up her hands, the picture of innocence with her freckles and wide eyes. “No clue. I didn’t even know there was one in the city until we saw him that night.” She bit her lip. “He was pretty fucking sexy though, and totally your type.”
Beam growled and glared at her workstation. “He’s a fucking asshole is what he is.”
“What happened?”
“He did something to me with his magic.”
“Like some weird sex shit?”
Talking about this with Greta was deeply embarrassing on so many levels. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to look?”
Sighing, Beam straightened. “Yeah, sure.”
Greta came over and took her hand. The warm and familiar tingle of her friend’s magic spread slowly through her body. “It’s not anything physical, at least not that I can find. You’re completely healthy, if a little randy.”
She didn’t respond to Greta’s teasing smile. “More than a little.”
“Oooh,” Greta said, with an exaggerated vowel sound. “Have you tried talking to Esmé?”
Why hadn’t she? If anyone could solve a sex problem, it was one of the world’s most infamous sex witches. “That’s a really good idea.” She squeezed Greta’s hand before she went back to her work, feeling better now that she had a course of action to follow. “Thanks.”
Beam knocked on the door to Esmé’s office. When the call to enter came, she slid inside and shut the door behind her.
Esmé smiled at her. “How’s my favorite gem witch?”
“I guess you liked that necklace Hyssop ordered for you?”
“Very much.” The elegant sex witch gestured to the chair on the far side of her desk. “What can I do for you?”
Beam took the offered seat and folded her hands in her lap. “I was wondering if you can help me with a problem I’ve got.”
Esmé leaned back and crossed her shapely legs. “What sort of problem?”
She took a breath, trying to get over the embarrassment of having to ask for help with this problem. “I seem to have gotten myself on the wrong side of a satyr.”
Esmé looked her over slowly. “That could be quite a significant problem.”
Beam swallowed and nodded. “Since that encounter, I haven’t been able to get off.”
Esmé tapped her fingernails on the surface of her desk. “If it was a sex witch who had done that to you, I could fix it, but a satyr’s magic is different enough from mine that I won’t be able to undo whatever he’s done.”
Beam let out a long sigh. “So what can I do?”
The corners of Esmé’s lips turned down. “Normally I’d suggest killing any fucker who did that to someone I employ, but since there’s only one satyr in Vegas right now and he’s one of Emil álvarez’s guards, that might not be the best course of action.”
“Fuck,” Beam said. “Really?”
Esmé nodded. “Unfortunately. Although if you do decide on vengeance, I could probably be convinced. Lots of untended desert around here.”
Beam waved a hand. “No, that won’t be necessary.” Emil álvarez was the relatively new business partner of the Reyes family, who they all worked for. That was a very large, very complicated applecart that she didn’t want to upset. “Now that I know where he is, I can try to talk to him.”
After she thanked Esmé for the information, she texted her friend Kai. The water witch had taken up with one of the álvarez guards as soon as they had come to town at the end of October and was the easiest way Beam could think of to get more information about the goat in question.
Hey, babe. What can you tell me about the satyr who works for Emil?
A few minutes later, Kai responded, Talon? He’s a grumpy fucker. Even grumpier than normal the last few weeks.
Great. A grumpier than usual goat. Exactly what she didn’t need in her life. Beam sent back, Can you give him my number? I need to get a hold of him.
Sure, Kai texted. He’s out right now, but I’ll let him know when he gets back.
A few hours went by before Beam got a message from an unknown number. Come to this address. Don’t bother wearing underwear. A map pin was attached that linked to an address in a very ritzy part of town.
Her fingers shook as she sent her reply, I just want to talk to you about removing the curse.
We won’t be talking.
How did those four simple words get her going so hard?
Beam had to spend a minute deep breathing before she could respond, I’m not interested in continuing whatever this is. She stared at the dots that indicated he was typing.
This only ends one way, sweetheart. With my cock in you.
She squeezed her thighs together. She could almost hear that last text growled in her ear. He’d called her bluff.
Going to the address he’d sent was a terrible idea. If he got his hands on her, she wouldn’t be able to deny her body’s reaction to him. Would that be the worst outcome? Maybe if she appeased him, he’d undo the curse, and they could go their separate ways afterwards.
Beam took a quick shower and examined her closet. After a few minutes of contemplation, she chose a simple slip dress in a deep purple tone. She did wear underwear, because fuck him and his orders, and some strappy heels.
When the car she’d hired pulled into the driveway, she texted him to let him know she was there but he was already standing at the door waiting for her.