Spell-Crafted for Pleasure
By Darragha Foster
Heat Level: 4
Book Length: Short Novella
Genre: Erotic Romance, Paranormal, Ghost
Warning: Anal sex, M/M, Menage
Publisher's Note: This was previously published.
Salem Grier has a fine collection of sins. Her own--and those she sells in her occult and erotic antiquities shop of the same name. Catering to both living and not-quite-living, her shop is community and kindred spirit to all magic practitioners seeking a bit of sensual mayhem. As long as she is paid in cash or credit (no checks, please), Salem doesn't care if her customers smell like an open grave or Chanel No5.
A shipment arrives containing a rather special historical objets pour réjouir les sens. A Viking Member--a whalebone dildo. In this case, a haunted whalebone dildo. Salem inadvertently awakens the spirits trapped in the bone--one good and one bad—and finds she is their passageway back to the living. But which brother should go free and which should remain imprisoned in a one-thousand-year-old sex toy? And how far will she go to find out?
Her little rats were insistent the interloper into their airspace was far from human, and by their reaction, was probably extremely powerful. Salem took a step closer to the front of the store.
Oh, my gods…I feel him. Who—or what—is he? Salem slipped a runic necklace off its display peg. The Helm of Awe—a protective magical stave. Not that she wasn’t already surrounded by spells and charms so thick she sometimes envisioned her shop encased in London fog.
She stepped forward into the glow of her security lights. “We’re closed,” she called.
A deep, smooth voice replied as clearly as if he were in the room with her. “Yes, I can see that. You are very closed. How many charms and spells do you think you need for protection?”
Salem laughed. Well, ain’t he a pisser? “I have enough. And a few mundane methods of protection in here too.”
“I’m not going to break in, miss. I’m just wondering…”
Salem raised her left eyebrow, smirking. “Wondering what?”
The man continued, “Do you have an Odin Stone?”
Salem held her breath. “Why?”
“Do you always ask potential customers why they want a certain item? If so, it’s a wonder you’re still in business,” the man replied.
Salem wondered if she should say yes or no. She kind of liked the Odin Stone. Of course if she kept everything she liked she’d never sell anything and be out of business in a week. “Yes. I have one.”
“May I see it?” he asked.
“We’re closed. Can you come back tomorrow?”
“I hate waiting,” the man replied, his voice soft and teasing from behind the plate glass.
Salem smiled. “Tomorrow. Come back. I haven’t even got the stone unpacked yet.
“You don’t lie well, Miss Grier. Give my regards to your pets. I’ve always enjoyed the company of rodents. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Salem rolled her eyes. Nonhuman beings making demands could be such a pain. The creature locked outside her shop, thanks to powerful magic, was more vaporous than corporeal. As he walked away she could very easily see right through him.
She called to her rats. “It’s okay, girls. I think my new shipment came with a bit of extra baggage, that’s all. I’ll work up an invisibility charm and the likes of that,” Salem paused, “rather sexy entity will forget all about my having the Odin Stone.”
Why do all the hot guys have to be less than human? Hot guys…I wonder if even thinking about performing a Freyja Ritual is stirring up the ethereal sexual plains. Salem picked up a bundle of sage. “Smudge me, baby,” she said aloud, giggling.
She pursed her lips, recalling the other items she needed in order to invoke and invite the sexuality of the Norse Goddess of Love into her life. A string of amber beads would avert Freyja’s secondary role as the Goddess of War. Strawberries would invite sweet sensuality. I need strawberries. I have strawberry jam. That could work. A falcon feather. A cat’s eye marble. Something naughty…she smiled. The Viking Member. What could be better?
The girls had calmed down, but seemed quite intent on staring out their tank toward the window. Salem tapped on their lid. They ignored her, keeping their focus on the street. She tightened her grip on her plastic sack full of ritual merchandise. “I’ll bet he has something that could fill that Odin Stone quite nicely.” She walked out and reset the shop’s alarm. Talk about a cock ring!
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