Pucker Up (A Damsels of Distress Novel) (2 page)

pent up magic in one blow. Power jolted

from her hands like shock paddles and

slammed into the angry Scot, sending

him and anything not bolted down flying

across the room. He hit the wall with a

loud crack and slumped to the floor.

She collapsed, trembling and

sucking air into her burning lungs. Books

and loose papers coated the floor and

the easy chair hiding the stain lay

toppled on its side. Broken glass from

fallen picture frames littered the edges

of the room. A groan from across the

parlor quickened her pulse.

That’s my cue to leave
. She

scrambled to the open doorway as best

she could. Using so much magic drained

most of her energy but she willed her

rubber legs to move. Werewolves were

a sturdy bunch and it was going to take a

lot more than crashing against a wall to

keep him down.

Heavy footsteps shook the floor

as they grew closer. She pulled herself

to her feet using the door frame and

staggered into the hall. But before she

was clear of the room, a strong hand

clamped down on the back of her neck

and pulled her backwards. She bit back

a scream while attempting to tear off the

fleshy hook.

His nails dug into her skin as he

forced her body down, bending her at the

waist in front of him.

She whimpered.

He held her there for at least a

hundred ticks of the grandfather clock as

she stared at the dried mud splattered

across the toes of his boots.

“Ye owe me five thousand

dollars,” he said in a raspy voice, his

grip tightening. “One month ye have, or

both you and the boy are out on the

street.”

“You can't do that,” she croaked.

“No one else will take in a young

werewolf.” Images of Danny huddled in

a cardboard box in an alley flashed

before her eyes.

“Try me.” He released her with a

final shove to the floor and walked away

without another word.

She waited face down on the

dirty hardwood floor until she heard a

door slam upstairs. She propped herself

up on her elbows and sighed.
Great.

Now I owe Mr. McGregor money I

don't have.
Even if she worked extra

shifts at the diner, and kissed major butt

for tips, she still couldn't make enough in

time.

“Are you all right?” Danny

cowered in the doorway watching her

struggle to her feet.

“Well, I'm alive.” She rubbed the

back of her neck as she hobbled past

him. Brushing the dust off her jeans, she

lumbered outside to retrieve her book

bag and skateboard when the phone rang.

The odds that it was for her were slim,

so she trod upstairs to drink a healing

potion for her throat and get started on

the hours of homework waiting for her.

Just as she opened her bedroom

door, Danny yelled out. “Ivy, it's for

you.”

“Take a message.” It was Friday.

She was tired and felt like a wrung-out

rag. The last thing she wanted to do was

be guilted into working a late night shift

at the diner tonight, even though she

could really use the money. She trudged

to the bathroom down the hall and then

chugged down the last bottle of healing

potion. The bitter taste lingered on her

tongue as the liquid soothed her throat.

The strengthening potion smelled like

feet, but she swallowed that down, too,

instantly perking up. Medicine, magical

or not, always tasted awful.

Closing the cabinet, she caught

her reflection in the mirror. Underneath

her dark curls, the red marks on the sides

of her neck from Mr. McGregor's fingers

glared at her. He’d surprised her with

his speed as much as she surprised

herself with her sluggishness. She

forsaw grueling hours of training to get

back in shape in her future.

Unshed tears prickled her eyes

as she stared at the little marks,

reminders of how she let her fear take

over. She was reckless, careless to let

the situation get so out of control. A year

ago she would’ve had him on the floor,

begging for mercy. Of course, a year ago

her entire life was different: her mother

was still alive and she wasn’t cursed

with magic powers. Now she was

hunted outside Salmagundi’s borders.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing

back the tears that begged for release.

Maybe all that’s happened was

some sort of cosmic punishment for what

she used to be, used to do. All of her

past prejudices and bad choices haunted

her now. She couldn’t keep living with

these ghosts constantly eating at her soul

and robbing her of any happiness. If only

there was a way to make up for her past.

After a few calming breaths, she

forced her emotions back down where

they belonged. She grabbed a wad of

toilet paper and blew her nose. From

this

moment

forward,

she

was

determined to redeem herself, somehow.

As she washed her hands, a

small cut on her wrist stung under the

cold water. His teeth were sharp for not

even being a full moon. She froze.

He bit her. Indirectly, but his

teeth still punctured her skin. And his

saliva, with all its germs and magic,

could’ve contaminated her blood.

Crap. Karma strikes again.

A moment later, rationale took

over and she realized that she couldn’t

become a werewolf because she was

already a witch. The two different

magics couldn’t live inside the same

person
. Duh
. One always dominated the

other and because she was born a witch,

she’d stay a witch. At least she’d be

spared the anguish of fleas.

Danny sat on the floor, leaning

against the wall across from the

bathroom when she came out. “Your

cousin Thing called.”

“You mean Thane?”

“Yeah, that's what I said. He

needs to talk to you 'bout something

important. He wants you to come over to

his house right away.” He scrambled to

his feet.

She held in a groan. Thane was a

fellow Senior at school and a nice

enough guy, though a bit high strung. He

discovered a lost letter in his late uncle's

trunk that her mother had written when

she was pregnant with her. Her father,

Thane’s uncle, died before telling

anyone he was a new dad, so nobody in

Thane’s— and now her—family knew

she even existed until three days ago.

The last couple of days had been

hell for her with Thane following her

around asking a million questions to 'get

to know her better'. They’d had casual

conversations in the past, usually

homework related, but now he wouldn’t

shut up. She couldn't take it anymore.

“I'm sure whatever he wants to

talk about can wait until Monday.” She

pushed past her door and headed to her

desk to pull out her Trigonometry

homework.

“But,” Danny said as he barged

in. “He told me he'd give me ten bucks if

I get you to go over there.”

She stopped. “He did?” How

badly did he want to know about her

childhood pets, or where she went on

vacation?

“Yeah, so go.”

Sitting in her chair, she looked

him over from head to toe. For once, he

might be useful to her. “Is Garren going

to be there?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” She twisted the

wide leather bracelet that never left her

right wrist as she thought. “Tell you

what. I'll go if you donate Thane's bribe

money to the New Rug Fund.”

“What?” His voice screeched out

a high note. His eyes grew so wide that

the whites were visible all around his

irises.

“You're the one who ruined the

rug in the first place, remember?

Besides, do you want to go back to the

orphanage that kept you locked in a cage

like a dog?”

He froze in his step, terror

reflected in his eyes. “I don’t wanna go

back there.”

Mr. McGregor may be son of a

bitch, but at least he treated Danny like a

human being. No cages for werewolves

in his house.

“If we don’t come up with

$5,000 soon, we’re both outta here.”

His shoulders sagged as he

dropped his gaze to the floor. “Fine.”

She grabbed her hoodie and

skateboard. “You should've asked for

twenty.”

“Hey, Ivy?”

She stopped with her hand on the

doorknob and waited.

“If you have a cousin, does that

mean you're going to move out and live

with him now?”

Her heart cracked at the tremor

in his voice. “I'm not going anywhere.”

He smiled.

“All right, out. I have to go earn

our first ten dollars. Only $4,990 to go.”

She set her shoulders to brace herself for

a boring evening of interrogation and

dragged herself out of the house to visit

her new family.

Chapter 2

“You want me to do
what
?” Ivy

asked. The first place Wizard Martial

Arts trophy she had been admiring

slipped through her fingers and fell to

the floor. The clank echoed throughout

Thane and Garren's bedroom as it hit the

hardwood.

“Kiss— Prince— Sebastian,”

Thane said as he leaned back in his

chair, the wood creaking in protest.

Green eyes peered through wisps of

blond hair, accentuating the soft contours

of his choir boy face. He was every

mother’s dream for her little girl;

respectable, handsome and totally non-

threatening. But that wholesome, All-

American-Kid persona he had going on

was an act. Something sick and twisted

lurked beneath the surface.

She thought he wanted to discuss

family trees, not disgust the hell out of

her. The very idea was... was... just

gross. On top of that, he had the nerve to

roll his eyes at her. Her! She wasn't the

one who had lost her mind.

Garren,

Thane's

stepbrother,

listened to the conversation from his

bed. He sauntered over to her, picked up

the dented trophy and placed it back on

the shelf. He was the polar opposite of

her cousin in every way. Arresting blue

eyes, with the power to make otherwise

intelligent teenage girls abandon all

common sense, peeked out from behind

locks of black hair. Add his sharp facial

features and muscular build, he was who

the daughters drooled over.

One hand still on the ledge above

her shoulder, he leaned in and flashed a

cocky smile. “You should do it, Ivy. It

might be the only chance you get to kiss

a guy.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to

keep herself from responding to his

childish jibe. She didn't like him being

so close, afraid he'd see the bruises she

tried to hide under her curly hair. After a

brief stare-down, he turned and flopped

down on his unmade bed. His cheap

cologne lingered in the air, tickling her

nose.

She backed up into the wall and

crossed her arms over her chest,

obscuring the band logo displayed

across her baggy, black t-shirt. She eyed

each boy warily. “Is this a joke?

Because if it is—”

“No, no.” Thane threw his hands

up in surrender, shaking his head.

Her narrowed eyes regarded

Garren, the boy who'd been the bane of

her existence since she arrived in the

small Alaska town. This could be one of

his practical jokes.

But Thane wasn't the type to

tease people. On the contrary, being

smart and a bit socially awkward, he

was picked on quite a bit. He wouldn't

go along with his stepbrother, would he?

She turned to her cousin. “But

Prince Sebastian's been dead for
two

hundred

years
.

That's

disgusting,

immoral, and I'm pretty sure illegal.”