Black Magic (The Raven Queen's Harem 3)

I make it home and to my suite without notice—or at least anyone stopping me. The Guardians, Dylan in particular, always seem to know my coming-and-goings. As much as I know that I need their support right now, I also need a minute alone. Just a second to breathe and get my head on straight because I expect a call at any moment. The battle is looming, there’s no getting away from it, which means it’s time for me to make my choice. Pick my mate. Gain the strength that I need and perform the spell.

That’s it.

There’s just one problem.

I still have no fucking clue who to choose.

I walk into the room and notice the heavy weight of the orb in my pocket.

The WishMaker.

I pull out the crystal ball and hold it in my hand. It’s cool against my skin and the shadows that make it seem alive flicker back and forth. If there’s anything I need right now, it’s clarity. But I’ve never used something like this, I don’t possess the ability to perform magic, and the longer I sit with it in my hand the dumber I feel.

“Like a Magic 8 ball?” I’d asked Tran in the magic shop.

I lay in the center of my bed, knees bent. My head is balanced on two fluffy pillows and I hold the orb up to the light. Feeling like an idiot, in the most reasonable voice I can find, I ask, “Who should I pick for my mate?”

Knowing no clever words or phrases will appear, I shake the ball anyway. The dark mist inside swirls around but nothing happens. Not even the figure I think I saw earlier appears.

“Too good to be true. Thanks, Tran,” I mutter, resting the orb on my bedside table. Like I was going to get out of making this decision on my own.

My phone chimes. Ten minutes to dinner and for a brief second I consider backing out. Just claiming I’m too tired from everything going on, surely they’ll give me a break? But a tug in my lower belly tells me I want to see my Guardians. That perhaps I need to see them.

*

The first sign something is weird is that Sam doesn’t come to escort me to dinner me like he normally does. The second is that the dining room is empty. No food, no Sue or Davis, and no Guardians.

I’m one second from panic when I hear laughter a few doors down. I’m in the odd hallway toward the garage—away from the kitchens and library—and I stop before a door I’ve never entered.

I hear Clinton’s booming voice and turn the knob. What lies before me is instantly intriguing. The room is magnificent; wood-paneled walls, gorgeous leather chairs, And soft-looking couches provide an intimate setting. A massive, roaring fireplace is on the far side of the room, but it isn’t hot and I suspect there’s magic at play. In fact, the more I look around the room, the more I get the sense I’m one step out of reality.

“Morgan,” Sam says with a breathtaking smile. He steps forward and links his fingers with mine. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“What happened to dinner?” I ask, taking in the men. They’re dressed in their nicest clothes, looking dashing and handsome, so much so they are a little hard to look at.

My friend and lover stares back at me with smoldering green eyes. “Uh, well,” he looks at the others. “It seemed like we could all use a break from formality tonight.”

It’s an odd statement since they all look so nice and I certainly didn’t get the memo to dress down. I’m wearing the same dress I’d had on earlier that day at the visitation. It’s not unflattering but even so, the way each man looks at me appraisingly causes the strangest sensation in my belly.

They want me.

All of them.

Now.

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I’d had the thought once—the fever dream on the bus—and even in my imagination the experience was overwhelming. Five sets of hands. Their lips, mouths, and cocks. I feel my cheeks heat at the idea. Everything else in my body sets on edge.

Damien walks over and offers me a drink. I take it and swallow the liquid fast. There’s a feel of expectation in the room mingled with anticipation, but as usual, I’m in control. I know this. I love this. It only heightens my arousal.

I look around the room, taking in each of my Guardians.

Sam with his perfect face and insight.

Clinton with his solid strength.

Damien, independent and bold.