Rampaging vampires, mischievous cat-shifters, frustrated spinsters, a forbidden lover and low cal. erotic desserts – just routine for a wizard…
Banned from using his magic, Severin is banished to live in the world of humans. So what’s a sixth level mystic meant to do? Simple: use his remaining skills and open up a bakery at Christmas Creek. Severin’s creations are all low cal, but it is his Decadence line—the erotic desserts—that cause a culinary stir in the normally quiet Australian town.
Severin’s plans for revenge against his enemies are put on hold the moment he meets Will Lawrence, the young Aussie whose golden hair and sexy smile bring Severin to his knees… all things considered that’s not such a bad place to be when you have a lover like Will. Except the vampires demand Sev’s blood, the shapeshifters want a piece of him, and the unmarried women of Christmas Creek want more than his chocolate éclairs… Except he isn’t a ladies’ man. Watch the fur and fangs fly.
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Christmas Creek
Copyright 2011 Astrid Cooper
ISBN: 978-1-77111-055-6
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Christmas Creek
By
Astrid Cooper
Dear Reader,
I am an Australian writer. Consequently, you may notice variations in spelling, punctuation and grammar. The setting for this story is outback Australia and to be true to the story, I have used Aussie slang in the places where appropriate, but have explained the meaning within the context of the story. However, some words may be untranslatable, so I have included a small glossary for reference. If you’d like a more personal explanation, please contact me, at the email address below, using the subject header christmascreek. I will be only too happy to discuss the nuances of Aussie-speak!
I hope you enjoy this book.
Best wishes
Astrid Cooper.
Chapter One
Just what was a former sixth-level wizard doing in the kitchen? If anyone dared question him, Severin had a reply: go drop in the void, which was equivalent to the human expression—mind your own … expletive-of-your-choice … business.
The recipe was not going well. The damn toffee was stick-jaw when it should be brittle and the red cherries he had planned to use contained wriggling things. In his life, he’d faced down warlocks and rabid vampires, but the sight of something wriggling or slithering sent him running. Even if the wriggling thing was a quarter of an inch long.
Returning to the kitchen after the worms had been removed by the domestic cleaner, and after a medicinal brandy to settle his nerves, Sev resumed work on his sponge cake.
Sev stared at it. This was not one of his culinary masterpieces. But a wizard never admitted defeat. So, begin again. He wove the containment field, the tips of his fingers glowing purple.
Ripples of chocolate oozed over the cake, peaking in the centre. Severin concentrated his spell on the design. Frustration didn’t describe the moment. A wizard in disgrace, his magic reduced to six percent, what had taken him a nano-second before, was consuming precious minutes. And the spell wasn’t working.
Just a little more and—
“Severin! You can’t do this!”
With his attention diverted by the sound of Tarix’s voice, the binding shattered and chocolate erupted like a volcanic plume, slamming against the ceiling. The glutinous mass fanned outwards, splattering the kitchen.
Severin ducked as rogue globules flew past. A warm, sticky droplet stuck to his cheek. He wiped it away and stood up.
Hell’s coldest depths! He stared at the disaster. The normally pristine kitchen was coated in chocolate and slivers of congealed toffee. Just great! It’d take him hours to clean—unless he could bribe a wizard to vanish it all with a wave of his wand. No, that wasn’t going to happen. Severin was outcast and he’d be left to stew in his own chocolate.
“What the hell happened?” Tarix demanded, striding into the room, his gaze on the chocolate trickling down the walls.
“You—that’s what happened.”
“Me? I didn’t do a damn thing.” Tarix’s green eyes danced mischief.
Sev ignored the glint, focusing instead on Tarix’s transformation. His auburn hair, that was his pride, was secured in a severe bun at his nape by a metal clasp. The black and crimson tabard and leggings hugged his powerful frame. Sev swallowed hard. The sight invoked memories, best left in the past. At Tax’s side the ceremonial knife rested in an ornate gilt sheath. Tarix was a lover not a fighter, which was another reason why Sev had been so surprised when he’d heard that his former bed-mate had taken on guard duty. But, who could follow the thought processes of a cat shifter? Sev had tried for centuries and failed.
Tarix stepped up to Sev and ran a thumb over the older man’s cheek. He held out his thumb, the tip encased in chocolate. Tarix put it into his mouth and licked, slowly sucking. His green eyes, holding Sev’s gaze, sparked gold.
Uh-oh. When Tax looked at him like that Sev knew he had to watch out for his arse—literally and figuratively. He wasn’t in the mood for any cat-boy games and retreated a step, placing himself behind the work bench.
“What is it you want?” Severin asked.
Splat. Drip. Squelch.
Chocolate dripped from the ceiling.
Both men looked up. The corner of Tarix’s lip curled.
Sev’s fists clenched. Just say it… just you dare! Was the cat-boy foolish enough to make a joke of a wizard’s spell gone wrong? He watched Tax, his heart rate increasing. It was suffocatingly close in the kitchen. The cat returned the stare, a heated gaze, that under normal circumstances would have had them tangling on the floor or on the bench in seconds.
“These aren’t normal circumstances,” Tax said huskily, picking up Sev’s thoughts.
“So, tell me what brings you here?” It had been months since he had seen his ex-lover.
Tax frowned, arms folded. The playfulness was gone. “You’re a sixth-level wizard. Tell me that it’s just another vicious rumour, that you aren’t going to spend your banishment cooking for humans.”
“Millions might argue that a four-tiered toffee mud cake without calories isn’t a gross waste of my skills. Maybe you’d rather see me in a tall, pointed hat and cape, telling fortunes or drawing rabbits from hats in some sideshow?”
“That would be marginally more acceptable.” Tarix spread his hands. “I don’t give a pinch of wizard dust for humans. It’s you I worry about. You have a reputation to uphold.”
Severin snorted. “Tax, you’re such a snob.”
“True, but that’s why you love me.”
The older man ignored that remark. It went without saying. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m outcast. You of all people know that.”
“I’m here in my official capacity. Don’t you appreciate the fact I’m in uniform?” He tugged at the high collar. “I’m close to choking and my balls itch in breeches. How do you endure it?”
Severin glanced down at his black jeans and t-shirt. “I’m breaking myself in for life on the outside. If I wore my silk robe out there, I’d be beaten up. Humans don’t like men in dresses.”
“Except Scotsmen’s kilts.” Tarix ran a hand over his chin. “I knew a Scotsman once…”
“Spare me your reminiscences.”
“Jealous?”
Sev grimaced. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I like the way the jeans hug your arse, and the t-shirt shows your body to perfection, but you don’t have to renounce your wizard robe for human clothes. Really, Sev, you’ve gone too far with this outcast thing.”
Severin snorted. “I’ve gone too far?”
“There’s rumblings all over Sanctuary.”
“More than usual?” Sanctuary—the wizard retreat—was always a hot bed of gossip and intrigue. Sev had remained aloof from it, even when the rumours centred on him.
“That’s why I came here. Word has it you’re going to live in the human world. Working as a cook. A bloody cook for the stars’ sake.”
“It’s true.” Severin tried hard not to laugh at the shocked disbelief on Tax’s face. “I like to cook and with my magic reduced to base grade, there’s not much I can do—”
Tarix cat-growled. “Even on your worst days you can run rings around every wizard in Sanctuary.”
“When I was sixth-level, but now I’m just base grade.”
“There’s nothing just about you, Sev.”
Their gazes clashed. The memories cut deep, cramping Sev’s gut. He saw the younger man’s pain. How the hell had it come to this? And one word was his answer.
Vampires.
Sev drew in a deep breath. The past was the past. “I’m retreating, not surrendering, Tax! You can share that information with all the scandal-mongers in Sanctuary.”
Tarix smiled. “That will be my pleasure. Sev, you’re being expelled tomorrow. I can manage to postpone it by a day, maybe, but—”
“I’m ready to go.”
“You aren’t going to appeal? Just leave Sanctuary and live outside with humans? I can intercede, mount a last minute stay of proceedings…” Tarix frowned. “It’s not too late to try.”
“No.”
“Have you lost your nerve?”
Sev smiled grimly. “Tell me why I should listen to advice from someone who’s standing there with chocolate running down his back?”
“I—What?” Tarix glanced over his shoulder, horrified at what he saw. Hissing, he leapt forward, swatting at his uniform.
The cat was fastidious, bordering on obsession. Severin laughed at the appalled look on his friend’s face.
Tarix walked to the work bench, trailing a thin sliver of chocolate. More drops fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing his gold braided tabard.
“I thought you’d fight them, Sev. I don’t understand you.”
“Of course not, you’re only three hundred years old. Maybe in another two hundred you might discover how wizards think.”
“Or not think, in your case.”
Severin smiled. Wizards were a quirky, enigmatic lot, the more powerful the wizard, the greater the eccentricity. Sev kept his own counsel, infuriating friend and foe alike, while two of his colleagues kept women as lovers. That penchant defied good taste.
“So, just like that, you’re leaving? And not going to say goodbye to me? For that I ought to bite your arse.”
“Like you need an excuse?” Biting was just one of the things his former lover did well… ah, very well. He must not remember, because the loss was almost unbearable. Sev wiped down the marble table top and lifted the dough from the bowl. He rolled it out, elongating the pastry, shaping it in the semblance of a rigid cock.
Tarix swore, then laughed. “You’ve got a good memory.”
The retort stung them both. It had been nearly a year since they had shared a bed. Sev had missed the inventiveness of his friend, but his sixth-level training took all his time and energy. Tarix had understood and sought the beds of other men. Many men, simultaneously, so Sev had heard. The cat gave new meaning to the word ménage.
But now Tax was a guard, he had to abstain for the term of his contract. Abstinence and cats were mutually exclusive. What had gotten into the boy? Or—who had gotten to him? The thought intruded and Sev suddenly felt cold. Had Tax betrayed…? He shook his head. No, the cat was a loyal friend. He had to believe that, because what else was there to believe in?
“No wizard has ever dared renounce Sanctuary.”
“Until now.”
“Sev, out there… it’ll mean you’ll have to store what little magic you’re allowed just to maintain your age. Please reconsider. Take your banishment here. Don’t leave Sanctuary. It’s the only thing that keeps us alive, forever young.”
“It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.”
“And then there’s the vamps. There’s a blood call on you.”
“I can outwit a gods-be-damned fang boy.”
“But not the whole Family.”
“It’s a challenge.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“So you always tell me.”
Tarix swore in his cat language. Sev had never learnt all the profanity in the cat vocabulary—inventive and comprehensive as it was.
“Right now, I could kick your ass. That’s what humans say, isn’t it?”
Tarix leaned across the work bench, selected one of the chocolate éclairs from the silver platter and lifted it to his mouth. Severin watched his former lover run his tongue over the pastry, separating the folds of cream and chocolate in a lazy lick. How often that tongue had licked and caressed him, teasing his cock, his balls, or his arse. The thought, the memories, hardened his sex instantly.
His breathing picked up a notch. That fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach… Hell, he wanted to cross his legs, the desire and the denial was so intense.
Concentrate. Focus. Tarix was out of bounds. For both their sakes.
The cat-boy eyed Severin, his gaze narrowing, hardening in a rare display of anger. “I’m not going to forgive the Council for doing this to you. And they cut your hair!”
“So all know I am outcast.” Severin ran a hand over his head, his fingers knotting in the curls at his nape. They had not used a spell for the shearing, but scissors. The magic was in place, like an itch, so his hair would not grow while he was banished. Wizards were vain about a lot of things, but their hair was sacrosanct.
“You had such beautiful hair… blue-black, like a raven’s wing and down to your waist. You know how much I liked to run my hands through it and suck the ends.” Tarix’s eyes misted. “And now you stink.”
“I—what?”
“The shearing spell… it’s clinging to you and smells like someone’s old boot.”
“That’s why no one sits next to me in the dining hall? I thought it was because I was outcast.”
Tarix’s smile was grim. “That was someone’s payback, Sev. I won’t give you any prizes for guessing who. Only wizard-kin will smell it, not humans. But they have their own stink, anyway, so they’d not notice you. What a confounded mess. You should have fried the lot of them when you had the chance.” He paused. “They gave you a hundred years to repent and after that you can petition the Council to have your banishment commuted. Big of ‘em.”
“There were some who called for the death penalty.”
“Only the vamps and they never think beyond the next bite.”
Severin shrugged. “I got off lightly, Tax, you know it, so does everyone else.”
“I don’t call reduction of your magic to base level as getting off lightly. How will you manage? It’d kill me.”
Severin smiled grimly. “I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of dying.”
Tarix reached across the table and took Severin’s hand between his, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Promise me you’ll survive.”
“I give you my word.” Sev pulled free from Tax’s grasp, but the feel of flesh sliding against flesh, nearly was his undoing.
“Let me love you.” Tarix’s gaze was severe, his emerald eyes dark with desire.
Severin tried to ignore that look, but… what was he doing now?
Tarix ran his tongue the length of the éclair, then bit down, taking it into his mouth, swallowing the damn thing whole. Severin winced. For Tarix’s sake, he had to refuse the cat’s seduction. Bloody difficult to do with a throbbing hard-on straining against his jeans.
Beyond frustrated, Severin pounded fresh dough onto the floored board and added a sprinkle of crystal dust and his own spell to counter the calories and carbohydrates in the concoction. He worked furiously until he had gained control of his sex.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Tax.” He lifted his gaze, pausing. “I’m moving to the country.” Travel and distance for wizard kin was marked in seconds—thanks to the vortex—no long term travelling for them, just a flick of the wrist and a severing of dimensions and they arrived in a new place within moments.