Chapter 14
ISAAC
“Binding Net!” I cried, clapping out the magic.
A net appeared in my hands, shimmering with blue energy.
“Whoa,” I said, inspecting the wire, feeling both satin-like and metallic at once. A super weird sensation on my skin for sure.
“Now, fling it at me,” April instructed, hopping from foot to foot.
“Are you sure?”
“Isn’t this what we agreed?” she said.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I countered.
“You won’t. Come on.”
Being squeezed into unconsciousness and suppressing magic counted as hurting her to me.
I hesitated, a tad uncomfortable. The thing at breakfast had left me covered in shame. I hated myself for popping off like that, and because I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I did. If I accidentally hurt April Bramble, it’d only make things worse in my head.
You’re overthinking this…
“Throw it, sir,” she commanded. “We need to test it.”
I straightened my spine. What was the point in me being here holding a net if I wasn’t going to throw it?
“Unless you want to wear it,” she added. “Some fashion-forward thing?”
I snorted and flung the net, my reservations dead in a second.
The moment the net hit her, it contracted, practically wrestling her to the floor. She deliberately struggled, allowing the wire to tighten around her.
“Careful it doesn’t cut you into pieces,” Alice warned, observing nearby.
Along with the Brambles, Ollie, Jake, and Drake joined us in the gym for training.
Dean had left the mansion, having business to attend to.
The witchcops escorted him off the grounds undercover.
He’d told us he’d be in touch, eyes constantly darting to Jake.
He would keep trying the Winter Palace for a response.
I wasn’t sure if Jake was sad or relieved to see him leave.
The Binding Net spell came with a whisper in my skull, connecting me to the net’s life, giving me the word to break it.
“Undo!” I said, clapping my hands. A puff of glittery blue dust followed, and the net vanished.
April got to her feet, crisscrossed indents on her face. Still awake.
“You good?” I asked, going over.
“Yes, sir. My bangle made a funny sound. Did you hear it?”
“No.”
She stretched her limbs. “Well, it did. But we need to see if it knocks me out.”
I passed a glowing hand over her face, the markings healing. “I’d rather you stay awake.”
“Careful with that,” she said. “Don’t want you passing out.”
I laughed. “It was just a little heal. I’m all good.”
She patted me on the shoulder.
Riley went up next, testing the net on Alice. She passed out but came around the moment he broke the net.
Cool. The spell worked.
We tested the Celestial Ward again, then kept on practicing throwing our nets on test dummies. Within thirty minutes, we reached a decent skill level of draw and release like we were at a shootout in western movie.
“We’ll practice every day until we meet Marcus,” Alice declared. “The wank stain won’t see it coming.”
I liked the sound of that.
Riley and I cast Mind Sharing.
Mind Sharing!
This spell allows willing bodies to share mental power. There must be a valid reason for this to be activated.
Requires ice water and salt poured into a hot, dry cauldron. Grounding requires sheep’s wool dipped in vinegar. A bowl of sugar and iron filings is required for the toll, to be added to the mixture once brought to the boil.
To establish a connection, speak the reason for using the spell. If valid, the liquid will turn green. If rejected, it will turn red, and the spell will be void.
Clap the magic out while calling the words Mind Sharing!
This spell requires three witches to cast and lasts for seven days until the next casting.
Three witches unless you were sacred like us.
We followed the steps down in the basement spell room, Ollie gathering the ingredients for us, avoiding eye contact with me.
Exhausting much?
Okay, time to give a reason for casting.
I spoke for us. “To share in a mental connection for the fae woman. If she takes one to her orchard, she takes us all.”
Although Drake couldn’t cast the spell, he linked arms with us anyway to try getting him in on the action. Only time would tell if it worked.
The liquid turned green.
Yippee!
After clapping out the magic, three beams of green light ribboned from the cauldron, curling around our bodies and joined us together, including Drake. A warm breeze tickled my face, and the ribbons puffed away.
“I guess we’ll see what happens next time she strikes,” Riley said.
We called it a day after that. I showered, grabbed some lunch, and decided to chill out alone in my room for a bit.
I slipped into a pair of champagne-gold Louis Vuitton jeans and a brown ruffled sweater.
Clothes were my armor, and a major comfort.
To some, I may seem surface level and vapid.
But fuck their judgmental asses. I loved fashion, I loved looking good.
It wasn’t flaunting, it was a form of selfcare. And what was so wrong with that?
Ollie would give me dagger eyes for this outfit…
“Ollie can go kiss poison ivy,” I grumbled.
I still hadn’t apologized to Erin for my outburst. I’d find her in a bit. Unlike Riley, I couldn’t bake her cookies to garnish my apology. So, I’d have to think of something else.
The sunny morning transitioned into a dreary afternoon. Gray clouds smothered the sky, a light drizzle falling.
Ugh. Miserable weather.
I watched some TV on my bed, avoiding the news, and finally turned my phone back on.
Thirty missed calls, one angry voicemail, and several aggressive text messages greeted me.
Oh, shit.
A groan rumbled in my chest as I fired off a text to my agent.
I’d canceled so many meetings since I’d become The Sun, rejected a couple of big jobs because of my new life. But none of the messages told me Nexus Models, my agency, was about to drop me.
Cool.
I sipped on a bottle of water, tapping out a text.
Me: I’m still in Coldharbour dealing with personal stuff.
Helen: Finally! You answer!
Me: Sorry. Shall we set up a lunch to talk?
I trusted her a lot, but I couldn’t tell her the truth yet.
Helen: Check your emails. Now.
I opened my email app.
Dearest Isaac,
You’re booked for a meeting with Hot Candy tomorrow at noon at The Coral Hotel, Coldharbour. If you won’t come back to London, I’ll bring the work to you. They want to make you brand ambassador for the next three years. It’s a seven-figure deal you will NOT be turning down.
Don’t disappoint me or we’re going to have some serious issues between us.
Many thanks,
Helen xxx
The news should make me leap into the air, not fill me with dread.
I couldn’t attend a meeting, for goodness’ sake. It’d draw so much attention I didn’t need right now.
“Fuck this.”
I went to call her, but another voicemail came through from an unknown number.
A spam caller?
I opened it, expecting to hear silence. Instead, the voice of my ex-boyfriend tickled my ear, my lungs hitching in surprise.
I’d deleted his number the day he dumped me but didn’t block him. He hadn’t called or messaged until now.
“Hi, it’s me.” He was from Oklahoma with a slight twang in his accent. Whenever he spoke, it drove me wild, enough to melt the underwear from my body.
“I hope this is still your number,” he continued. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, missing you hard.” He took a deep breath, the sound dripping in sexiness. “I’m in London if you want to meet up. Be good to see you.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, as tight as an elastic band stretched to its limits.
“Call me or message me back. If this isn’t Isaac Davenport, sorry.” He hung up.
My head spun, forcing me to lay down.
Whoa. Tony Gilbert. Former US soap opera star who left me because he felt stifled. Kinky fucker, absolute prick with a booty to die for.
He misses me?
So what? We’d ended because he felt stifled. And I think he’d found someone else.
I thought we were going somewhere. Longed for him to tell me he loved me, to be chosen by the smoldering, delicious star of The Sands of Love.
Take two coming up?
Could we try again? Could I call him back right now and arrange some sort of—
“Absolutely not,” I chided myself. That was a can of chaotic worms I wouldn’t be touching. Ever.
Only, that ever stood on shaky ground, right at the heart of an earthquake. Anyway, I wasn’t in any position to go frolicking off to London right now.
Or The Coral!
Tony. The boyfriend with the nipple clamps and a penchant for being tied up and blindfolded. We’d had some fun with it, me dominating him in the bedroom as he liked, using my hands and various toys to tease before I fucked him. He loved being at my mercy.
And then it all fell apart.
Being called stifling left enough bruises on my ego. So he could stay in the past.
Maybe. I wouldn’t mind a final round of sex to get the last traces of him out of my system. Hecate knew I seriously needed to get laid.
Another text came through from Helen, breaking me out of my Tony stupor.
Block him and move on.
I called my agent.
“Well, well, well,” she drawled in her posh English accent, taking a puff of the cigarette she always seemed to have lit. “Look who’s stuck his head above the parapet.”
“Helen, I—”
“If the next thing out of your mouth is an argument, I’ll scream. Don’t you dare tell me no.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Listen, things are complicated and—”
“Remember when my husband died, and I showed up to your runway debut anyway?”
Oh, I remembered. What a horrible time, poor Ross got killed by a shade near the River Thames.
But nothing stopped Helen from doing her job, and she’d come to see me model for Yves Saint Laurent on my maiden catwalk voyage, working the afterparty and the whole of Paris Fashion Week as if she hadn’t suffered a major loss.
“Helen, I—”
“Whatever’s going on, there is no excuse I’ll accept.”
What could I say to that?
“Are you in Coldharbour already?” I asked.
“I am, darling. And I want you to meet me in The Coral’s restaurant at seven tonight. We’ll have dinner. We’ll discuss the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“You’ll see when you arrive. Or I can come to you.” She coughed lightly. “Where are you if not The Coral?”
Come here? Absolutely not! “I’m not sure—”
“You’ve done nothing but fob me off, Isaac. I’m not standing for it anymore.” Pause for the cigarette drag and release. “Be here or I’ll make things difficult for you.”
Speaking of difficult, how the fuck was I supposed to leave the mansion, get the glamouring potion out of my system, and then show up at the hotel without causing a stir?
Pain pulsed in my jaw.
“Helen…” What could I say? That I quit? Tell her to pull the plug on all my contracts and land myself in a swamp of lawsuits?
No. I didn’t get to walk away easily.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you at seven.”
“Excellent. I’ve already booked a table.” She hung up.
I wanted to hurl.
Fuck today.