Bound by Magic: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Magic Awakened Book 1)

  Bound by Magic

  Magic Awakened #1

  Sadie Moss

  Copyright © 2018 by Sadie Moss

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or had, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Message to the Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The man in the blue tunic opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched scream.

  Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I’d been told that, among the more refined classes, what he was doing was considered singing, but my eardrums begged to differ—thank you very much. It didn’t help that I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, though I was pretty sure he was technically speaking English.

  I surveyed the audience from the shadows, wondering if any of them actually enjoyed opera, or if they just didn’t want to be the first in their social circle to admit they hated it.

  Who would actually pay good money to subject themselves to this?

  Apparently, over a thousand members of the magical elite of Denver, that’s who.

  The theatre was enormous, with a large ground-level seating area and three balcony levels rising above it. I lingered in the shadows at the back of the third balcony. The season ticket holders in this section must have decided they wanted to preserve their hearing a little longer, because this area was much more sparsely filled than the main floor. Perfect.

  The man onstage opened his mouth again, nearly unhinging his jaw to release a single sustained note. I grimaced, resisting the urge to stick my fingers in my ears.

  Badass mercenary Lana Crow will not be brought down by an opera singer, damn it.

  Still, I pulled my dark wool cap lower on my head, covering my ears a bit more. I told myself I wasn’t doing it to block out the sound, but simply to make sure none of my flame-red hair peeked out and drew unwanted attention to me.

  After glowering at the man in the blue tunic for a moment longer, I shifted my focus away.

  I wasn’t here for him, after all.

  Nope, that dubious honor belonged to the man sitting in the seat four rows ahead of me.

  Gerald Marceau.

  He was the reason I was pressed against the wall at the back of the balcony, dressed head-to-toe in black like a rogue stagehand. I didn’t know much about Gerald aside from his name and the fact that I was supposed to deliver him alive to collect my bounty. Oh, and he was Gifted, which meant he had some sort of magical ability. I could feel the power coming off him from where I stood, but unfortunately it didn’t give me any clue as to what he could actually do.

  Some Gifted felt incredibly powerful—until you realized their only power was creating potions that turned into five course meals or something. A kitchen witch might become the world’s best magical “chef,” but that hardly made her a threat. However, other Gifted people held massive amounts of magic at their fingertips and weren’t limited to one kind of spell casting. Powerful mages could learn new kinds of magic with intense study and dedication, and most of it would do a lot worse than give you a stomachache.

  Sadly, in the social strata, I ranked far below both the kitchen witch and the mage. I was one of the Blighted, with no magic at my command. That lack of magic didn’t leave me completely powerless though, something the Gifted seemed to forget all too often.

  Oh well. Made my job easier, really. They never saw the threat coming. Not from little ol’ Blighted me.

  Speaking of which….

  The man in the blue tunic had been joined by a whole cadre of similarly dressed people onstage, and as the music swelled to deafening levels, I crept forward. My feet didn’t make a sound, though it hardly mattered with the racket going on in here.

  If I didn’t make this catch now, I’d lose my chance. I’d been following Gerald for hours, and I had seen the heavy wards and enchantments that protected his house. If he made it home safe tonight, he’d stay that way. There was no way I’d be able to break through those wards.

  A public grab was never ideal, but with a midnight deadline on his delivery, I was running out of options.

  Gerald was a popular guy. This was the first time all day he’d been even semi-alone. The only potential witnesses present now were the few other audience members scattered in the rows ahead of him and the petite blonde woman next to him. The blonde might be a problem though. She was draped around him so tight it was like she was auditioning for the role of “pashmina.” I wondered if he’d had to pay for her seat, considering she wasn’t really using it.

  Dammit, why did Gerald’s date have to be so fucking friendly? They were practically glued together.

  First order of business, extract Gerald from Blondie’s clutches. Second order of business, subdue him and get him out of here. And do it all before the final curtain falls.

  No problem.

  I walked quietly down the steps toward Gerald’s seat as the cacophony below continued unabated. I wasn’t even sure the singers had taken a breath yet. Maybe they were using magic. When I reached the large man, I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Gerald had been watching the opera raptly—did he actually like it?—but he flinched when I touched him and looked up sharply.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I whispered. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have an urgent message from Leo Barrett.”

  I’d overheard Gerald screaming into his cell phone at someone by that name several times today, so I figured there was a good chance it would get his attention. Sure enough, he grunted and pried the blonde’s grasping fingers away from him to stand up.

  “For fuck’s sake. I knew it! What’d he do now?”

  I ducked my head solicitously. “If you’ll just come with me, sir.”

  “I’ll just be a minute, baby.” He shushed the blonde’s whispered protests and followed me up the aisle to the door at the back.

  Holding it open for him, I allowed him to step through ahead of me, pointing down the hallway. “It’s that way, sir.”

  Grumbling, Gerald ambled down the dimly lit hall. I pulled the door shut behind us as I quickly drew a pair of iridescent black handcuffs from my back pocket. They glowed slightly in the dark, giving away their magical enhancement. Hey, I wasn’t above using a few charms or encha
nted objects to even the playing field a bit.

  Stepping close to Gerald, I reached for his thick wrist, but froze when the door behind us banged open again and a high-pitched voice called out.

  “Gerald, baby, come back! You’re missing the best part. I— Hey, what are you doing?”

  The blonde noticed the handcuffs at the same moment Gerald spun around, his eyes widening. Shit. I dove for his wrist, but before I could slip the cuffs on, he raised his hand, fingers splayed. A burst of ice shot from his palm, slamming into me and throwing me backward. I flew past the blonde and skidded on the plush carpet. Coughing, I worked to pull air into my lungs as I crouched on all fours. That blast of ice had hurt like a bitch.

  So that’s what he can do. Great.

  Blondie’s wide eyes darted between me and Gerald for a second, and then her mouth dropped open just like the opera singer’s had.

  Oh, fuck no.

  Scrambling to my feet, I nailed her with a punch just as the first high note of her scream pierced the air. She staggered back and crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from her nose. By the time I turned around, Gerald was already dashing down the hall. He was a big guy, both in height and girth, but he moved fast.

  I spared a quick glance at his abandoned date. Her head was propped against the wall, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyes half-closed. Gerald didn’t even look back as he rounded the stairwell leading down to the main floor.

  Wow, what a gentleman.

  My lip curled in disgust as I raced after him. I shouldn’t be surprised one of the Gifted was putting his own self-interest before anybody else’s. It was a hallmark of their kind.

  As I darted into the stairwell, I shoved the handcuffs back in my pocket. I’d need them once I caught up to him.

  Our footsteps slapped in a discordant beat on the steps, his almost a full floor below mine, though he was losing some of his lead already. He hit the last step running, and I picked up my pace. A startled looking usher dressed all in black jerked out of the way as I barreled past him. It wasn’t like he could do much to stop me though. He had the same amount of magic I did—none.

  It wasn’t surprising to see another Blighted in the Capital. The Gifted needed people to cater their parties, usher their operas, cook for them, clean for them, and drive them around, so they allowed us into the Capital to work. We just weren’t allowed to live here.

  Well, mostly. I had heard rumors of a few Blighted citizens wealthy enough to buy their way into high society, smothering themselves with magical charms, spells, and enchantments in an attempt to blend in. But I’d never actually met one, and I wasn’t sure I believed the stories. Why would anyone do that? If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t waste it trying to pass as Gifted. I’d buy myself a private island a million miles away from here.

  The short, skinny guy muttered a half-hearted rebuke, then slunk away. It was possible he was going to tell his superiors about the disturbance, but I doubted it. As one of the Blighted, he was as likely to be punished as praised for sticking his nose into a Gifted man’s business. Most Blighted, especially those who worked in the Capital, learned to keep their heads down and their mouths shut.

  Gerald yanked open one of the grand entrance doors at the front of the building and dashed out into the night. I barely caught the edge of the door before it closed, hauling it back open and slipping out after him. My eyes tracked left and right, catching sight of his absurd tuxedo tails flapping in the breeze as he ran down 14th Street.

  Fucking Blondie. She couldn’t have survived without him for one godsdamned minute?

  I swore under my breath as I sprinted after him. If I didn’t deliver him unconscious and in one piece by midnight, I wouldn’t get paid.

  That thought was enough to give my pace a boost, and I gained a few yards on the large man in front of me. We were in the theatre district, and the evening’s performances hadn’t let out yet, so there were only a few people on the streets. But it only took one to call the Peacekeepers—the magical law enforcement. I needed to end this now and get out of here quick.

  A small park opened up on the left, and Gerald darted into it, weaving around a few perfectly manicured trees. He twisted slightly, looking behind him as he shot another blast of ice at me. I dodged left.

  Because I was facing forward and Gerald was facing backward, I saw what he didn’t. His route was about to be abruptly cut off by Cherry Creek.

  It’d been given that name a long time ago, but the description no longer fit. Sometime in the last decade, the Denver city planners had decided instead of a muddy brown, meandering stream, a wide, clear blue river would be a more aesthetically pleasing accent to the Capital. The broad expanse of water was contained by stone walls on either side, and a pathway lit by old-fashioned streetlamps wended along Cherry Creek’s edge, several feet above the rushing water below.

  Gerald’s arms pinwheeled as he tried to change direction fast enough to avoid plunging into the river. His feet went out from under him, and he slid sideways.

  Ah ha!

  Pumping my arms furiously in a final burst of speed, I threw myself at the big man, hitting him in a full-body tackle as he struggled to rise. He went down like a felled tree, cushioning my fall by landing beneath me.

  “Hold still, you asshole,” I muttered, trying to keep him pinned with my body while I scrabbled in my back pocket for the charmed handcuffs again. If I could get them on him, this fight would end real quick.

  The guy weighed twice as much as I did, but he obviously didn’t have much experience with fighting—he likely solved most of his problems with magic. I was able to outmaneuver him, pinning his arms above his head so he couldn’t blast me again while he bucked and thrashed. Our position probably looked extremely indecent.

  Unfortunately, with both hands occupied restraining Gerald, it was damn hard to get the cuffs on him. They were caught in my right hand, pressed to the skin of his wrist as I bore down with all my weight. Too bad the sedation charm would only take effect once the things were actually on him.

  Gerald panted and cursed, his puffy cheeks blotchy and a sheen of sweat covering his brow.

  Scooting up higher so I was sitting on his chest, I pinned his upper arms with my knees to free my hands, then grabbed for his wrist again.

  Just as the cuff was about to clamp onto his wrist, Gerald howled and yanked his arm free, a flurry of icicles flying from his fingertips. I turned my head to avoid getting stabbed in the eye, and my knee slammed into the pavement as the handcuffs were ripped from my grasp.

  In what seemed like slow motion, I watched them tumble through the air end over end… until they landed with a faint plop in the clear blue water of Cherry Creek.

  Chapter 2

  As my charmed handcuffs were carried away by the rushing water, Gerald took advantage of my momentary heartbreak to shove me off, sending another block of blue ice at me. It hit my chest hard. He clambered to his feet and took off down the river walk, his pace slower than it had been before. I couldn’t blame him. I was feeling a little beat up myself. My ribs hurt like hell, making breathing difficult.

  And I had no more magical cuffs.

  Well, fuck. Guess I’m gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  Ignoring the aches in my body, I sprinted after Gerald, catching up with him as he rounded a bend in the river. Pulling up alongside him, I aimed a vicious kick at the back of his knee. His stride broke, his leg crumpling beneath him like a piece of straw. He went down with a yowl of pain.

  I didn’t let him get up.

  Cocking my fist, I threw a punch at the back of his head, dropping all my weight into it.

  Gerald collapsed with a grunt, his big body going limp.

  Crouching next to him, I tried to get my breath back. I had to take tiny sips of air or pain shot through my ribs.

  Bruised, I was pretty sure. Not broken.

  “Shouldn’t have blasted my damn cuffs into the river, Gerald,” I muttered to his prone form. �
��You could be high as a kite right now instead of out cold.”

  The cuffs had a small dial on them I could use to adjust the level of sedation they imparted to the person wearing them. That came in very handy on collection jobs, especially when my target was a giant man like Gerald. Instead of having to haul an unconscious body around, I could just dope him up to the point of extreme docility and he’d walk—well, stumble—wherever I directed him.

  A rabbit punch wasn’t my preferred way of taking down a mark. Not because I felt bad for hitting him, but because it made the rest of my job so much harder.

  Case in point: my car was at least a mile away, and Gerald’s body in front of me resembled a miniature beached whale. Or at least, what I assumed one would look like. I’d never seen the ocean, although visiting it was at the top of my bucket list.

  I stood up slowly, glancing around to make sure no late night strollers were passing by. The river walk was deserted, light pooling in warm halos around the streetlamps in between darker stretches. We weren’t directly under a lamppost, so that was good.

  I toed Gerald’s body, and he rolled slightly before collapsing back into a limp mound of flesh.

  Shit.

  He had to have almost a hundred pounds on me. There was no way I could carry him all the way to my car. Not without drawing attention.

  Heaving a sigh—then wincing in pain—I slipped a glass cylinder from my front pocket. It was just a bit smaller than a lipstick tube and was filled with a swirling purple smoke. I set it upright on the ground beside me, then bent to lift Gerald under the arms. Once I got him semi-upright, I stomped my foot down hard on the glass vial beside us. The smoke billowed out in a cloud, encompassing us both.