Jane Davey's Locket Read online

  Witnessing her confrontation with the captain at breakfast had only convinced me that I needed to stay far away from all things wedding. One more day and this horror show would be over.

  Since I now had a good sense of what I was looking for, it didn’t prove too hard to find a hint of magic that reminded me of Jane. The faint trail led me to the lower deck where people were being floated down by ship staff or descending ladders to floating platforms. The scent ended at the railing, and I could only glance out over the many bobbing heads. Who among them had the locket?

  My gaze passed over the eager crowd and then returned to one particular shape. She might be wrapped in a towel, but despite only knowing Jane one day, I recognized the stance.

  My witch.

  Er. The witch.

  Fuck.

  She stood beside the slim form of the same woman who’d been so quiet at breakfast and dropped the towel.

  I greedily inhaled the sight of Jane. She wasn’t wearing a bikini at all—leading to some disappointment—but I did enjoy the view of her in the one-piece swimsuit with a sheer, black cover-up. She stared into the water, making me wonder if she’d seen someone jump in with the locket.

  “Hey, handsome,” a voice gurgled from below. I looked down to see a bobbing face with streaming green hair.

  “Taken,” I replied without even thinking.

  “Lucky lady.” With a flip of her tail, the mermaid was gone, and yet I stared a moment longer as I tried to figure out why my mouth betrayed me.

  I was most certainly not taken. Not even dating. Or interested. Nothing.

  All things I reassured myself with, even as I turned my attention back to Jane. She’d slipped off her sheer robe and stood on the edge of the platform, her shape tempting me with the indent of her waist, and the subtle flair of her hips. With Jane’s hair pulled back into a tight bun, the smooth column of her neck teased. How nice would it look with a set of teeth marks?

  I blinked and shook my head.

  What is wrong with me?

  A disturbance beneath the surface stirred the water beside the dock. A tentacle emerged from below. The young woman from breakfast, Sasha something or other, screamed and darted behind Jane.

  I wasn’t worried. Magic would subdue any threat. Only Jane didn’t act, which meant she ended up curled in the sea monster’s grasp and dragged into the water!

  Oh, hell no.

  A roar emerged as I vaulted the rail, choosing to keep my man shape as I angled into a dive and sluiced into the warm water. It took me a moment to orient myself, the clear depths a chaotic swirl of bodies jumping in, jewel-colored tails flashing, and seaweed hair floating. But none of that interested me.

  I surfaced for a moment, only to grab a deep lungful of air and resubmerge myself. I kicked and pulled with my arms, aiming for the deep. Too far ahead of me, I could see the witch being dragged down, her mouth clamped tight, her expression full of annoyance. She couldn’t waggle her fingers with her arms pinned by her sides.

  She needed me. So, I swam as hard as I could. The moment she saw me, her eyes widened. But not in appreciation. She shook her head, and I didn’t grasp the warning until the tentacle knocked me head over ass, and unconscious.

  8

  Jane: That wasn’t a kiss.

  The idiot came to save me. Dove into the water despite declaring earlier that he couldn’t swim. Not entirely true, he did some pathetic cat crawl trying to reach me.

  Yes, me. Then the jerk got himself knocked senseless and started to sink. All those muscles weighed him down.

  The lion required a rescue, which meant the sea monster with my locket would have to wait.

  Yes, my locket. As soon as that tentacle came whipping from the water, I’d seen the golden glint of my precious. Hence why I didn’t fight as the appendage curled around me and dragged me into the ocean. Having been raised around water, I’d sucked in a deep breath, and took the first few moments to catch my bearings while trying to locate where my necklace had gone.

  It appeared stuck on one of the sea monster’s suckers and dangled just out of reach. I had to be careful. If I killed the beast and it sank, I’d lose the locket. Not entirely a bad thing, given the spell on it; however, I wanted the memento from my mother.

  Before I could act, Oz interfered once more. The idiot did some pathetic dive into the water and then did his strange sea-scrabble to try and reach me.

  It was stupid.

  And cute.

  Sweet enough that I couldn’t let him drown. I wiggled my toes and pulled at my magic. Which some might mistakenly assume weak given I was underwater. That only applied to regular witches. Not only was I descended from a long line of sea witches, I was half pirate, too. The ocean sang in my blood.

  The jolt of magic I expelled forced the tentacle to release me, and I wasted no time. Hands by my sides, I shoved out more magic to propel my body to the sinking man.

  Oz’s eyes were closed, his body limp. There was no reaction when I snared a hold of his shirt. A garment that couldn’t hold the body. He slipped out of it, and I had to go deeper, my lungs starting to protest. I grabbed Oz more firmly this time, my arms around his torso, expelling magic through my toes. A little more erratic when it came to guiding us, yet we emerged with a splash and a flop, like a submarine suddenly surfacing.

  I sucked in a huge breath, but he didn’t. I quickly stroked to a floating dock where cruise line employees stood by and helped to heave Oz from the water. They turned him onto his side and acted in his best interest.

  I didn’t care. I shoved them aside.

  “Let me handle this.” I knelt by him and put my hands on his chest, willing my magic into his lungs, drawing out the seawater in them. It emerged in wet gouts, and still, he didn’t breathe.

  “Come on, Oz. Don’t you dare die. You haven’t found my locket yet,” I grumbled even as I didn’t understand my concern for him.

  I pressed on his chest, applying compression, and when that still didn’t work, I leaned down to put my lips on his. A breath into his mouth. Stop. Breathe in. Stop.

  At the same time, I willed him to live. Come on, kitty. You don’t want to die yet.

  I straddled him, and that was the only reason I noticed him recovering. The cock pinned under me swelled. The soft lips I’d been breathing past hardened, and the lifesaving turned into kissing.

  Oz woke suddenly—horny—flipping me onto my back, the hardness of him pressing against me, his lips slanting over mine and taking over the embrace, igniting my senses.

  It took the crowd cheering us on, “Live porno! Someone get a camera,” for me to realize that we had an audience—and almost not care.

  Grandma, on the other hand, cared. She screeched, “Not again! Get that animal off my granddaughter. She’s supposed to be engaged to someone else.”

  No, I wasn’t. Screw the current owner of the locket. Like hell was I marrying a sea monster.

  But the kiss had to end. Mostly because someone yanked on Oz, exclaiming, “What are you doing? Mom and Jellia will kill you if they see you making out with a witch.”

  The fact that Oz roared his displeasure helped. That he rolled off me annoyed.

  I went to sit up and found myself smothered in a towel with Grandma screeching, “Have some respect for yourself, Janey. Don’t be your mother.”

  Sigh.

  For a moment, I’d forgotten who he was, where I was, and what I wanted. Which was to not be involved with any man.

  As I got to my feet, my gaze met Oz’s for a moment as he looked away from his haranguing sibling. Our eyes locked. Heat and awareness passed through the gaze. A whisper with no voice that said—

  The strange connection between us broke as something whipped from the water, spraying water droplets and causing the crowd on the floating dock to utter an “Ooooh.”

  The tentacle from the deep was back. Unlike mundane humans, the milling passengers didn’t run screaming and blubbering in fear. Rather, excitement tinged the air as a few
waved their arms and shouted, “Me next! Me! Me!”

  Because nothing screamed fun on a cruise like being dragged to a drowning death by a sea monster.

  The blubbery-skinned thing with the suction pads held my locket, the gold exterior of it glinting in the sun. Even as I stared, the amulet went soaring into the air, arcing high overhead to land somewhere on the ship.

  Looking for a new suitor.

  And it wasn’t the wet lion shaking his mane all over the deck.

  9

  Oz: I will not toss my sister overboard.

  My sister, Jinjur, disappeared as I was still wringing the nasty seawater from my long, luscious locks. I was delaying the inevitable. Someone, likely Jinjur, was sure to tattle about my swim. Which meant…

  “Ozzie!” The shrill use of my nickname made me cringe. Yet there was nowhere to hide, not unless I planned to go for another dip, and I’d had enough of the water for today. Although, I did have a hankering for seafood.

  “Hey, Jellia.” I gave my sister my best smile. It did nothing to dispel her mighty scowl.

  “Don’t you hi me. I know what you’ve been up to. Ditching the wedding festivities to go—”

  I interrupted. “For a refreshing dip. You should try it. The water is quite warm.”

  A remark overheard by a guest who felt a need to explain why. “Mermaid pee.”

  The very idea had me determined to grab a shower. Pity I couldn’t shake my sister. The harangue continued even once I reached my suite.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Not much. I’m pretty perfect, as a matter of fact.” Modesty was for wolves.

  “Really, Ozzie. People saw you consorting with a witch. In public. While sober.”

  “Shouldn’t we be more concerned about Jinjur’s quickness to snitch?” Ratted out by my baby sister, and within minutes of the kiss no less. Which made me wonder if Jane had suffered the same dressing-down by her grandmother. Family might mean well, but sometimes, they should really just mind their own fucking business.

  “Is she the reason you ditched the family fun arts and crafts hour?”

  “Can you blame me? Glue and fur do not mix,” I grumbled.

  “Neither do lions and witches.”

  “Not entirely true.”

  “Don’t you dare use that fictional story as evidence. We don’t have a wardrobe or a magical land. And you are not Aslan.” My sister, shatterer of boyhood fantasies.

  “Maybe not, but I am a man, and I don’t do crafts.”

  “Because you’d rather go swimming with her.” Hissed with feline disdain.

  “She’s nice if you’d get to know her.” Not entirely true. Jane tended to be acerbic, but her tongue in my mouth had been divine. Sweet and salty. My favorite.

  “I don’t have time to get to know her. My wedding is tonight. As in hours from now. Hours, Ozzie. I don’t have time to deal with your midlife crisis and this sudden fetish for a witch. You should be worrying about me!” My sister looked so sweet and docile on the outside, barely reaching my chin. Yet inside that tiny body was a full-on she-cat in bridezilla mode.

  “Everything will be perfect.” I did my job as her brother to reassure. Meanwhile, I had no idea of the true status of the event. My experience with weddings was to show up when told, and dance with a few older aunts.

  “It had better be perfect, or else.” Which, coming from Jellia, did cause concern. She could retaliate like no one’s business.

  “My baby sister is getting married. What could possibly go wrong?” I tried a reassuring smile, and it almost got smacked off.

  “I hate you. You have no idea of the stress I’m under.”

  Didn’t she mean the stress she put the wedding planners under? My sister proved to be the grand ‘zilla of brides.

  “How is the wedding prep going?” As she’d made sure to remind me, my sister was getting married tonight, just before the full moon. Then she planned to party by the light of it. While she plotted how to terrorize her future husband, the rest of the wedding guests would be getting drunk and having sex with random strangers. The usual at a wedding. Nine months from now, there’d be plenty of surprise babies.

  “How’s it going?” she practically shrieked. “Like poop melting in the hot sun. Melinda,”—a bridesmaid—“got a sunburn. But not just any sunburn. She looks like a goddamned raccoon. Loretta is seasick and has managed to puke on everyone at this point. Ginny lost her shoes and only has flip-flops to wear because no one else is a size fourteen. And Patsy’s hair turned orange from the gelatin pool she swam in.”

  None of which seemed urgent to me, but judging by my sister’s expression, it might cause the end of the world. “Shit, that’s a bummer.” The right reply that got me a tirade about how stressed out she was, blah blah blah. I nodded at the appropriate times.

  “You should relax. Have a drink.” Maybe a pitcher of them.

  “Relax?” Jellia snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure. I’m surprised you’re so calm, considering.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Mom.”

  One word to bring dread to my poor gut. “What about Mom?”

  “She knows about the witch.”

  “How? Who told her?” Did I have time to hide? Because the bride having a fit was nothing compared to Mama Lion getting her claws in a snit.

  “Who do you think?” My sister’s smirk made me cringe.

  I peered around my suite as if I expected my mother to pounce. “What did she say?” Laugh all you want, but my mother is not someone you messed with.

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh-oh.” Growing up, we’d learned that Mother keeping it in ended up being worse than her freaking out.

  “It’s your own fault, you know.” My sister lacked sympathy for my dire dilemma. “You should have stayed away.”

  “I can’t.” The truth slipped out.

  “What is it about the witch that has you acting like you rolled in a field of catnip? I’ve never seen you act so irrationally and it’s not like she can spell you.” Witch and warlock magic tended to break if it touched shifters. “So, what gives?”

  Explain how Jane fascinated me? How having her around meant a constant boner? In many respects, Jellia was right. Jane was a drug to me. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Are you, or are you not, fucking her?” Blunt, but that was my sister.

  “Not.” I didn’t add the yet part.

  “But you’re obviously trying to get in her pants.”

  Well, duh. I was a guy, after all. But I might as well gut myself before admitting that to my sister. “She needs my help with something.”

  “Funny, because it looked more like she helped you.”

  An embarrassing reminder that Jane had saved me from drowning. I’d have to do something gloriously masculine and stupid to make up for it. “She lost something. I’m tracking it for her.”

  “Let me guess, she lost her panties, and you’re going up her skirt to see if you can find them.” Jellia rolled her eyes.

  Worst part? She wasn’t entirely wrong. I did want to get closer to Jane. But since I valued the lives I had left, I would never admit it. “Since you’re so nosy, I’m helping the witch look for a locket. She lost it on the ship.”

  “A locket?” Jellia’s brows rose. “It’s kind of weird you mention that, because on my way to find you, there was this dude on deck, just chilling, and out of nowhere, this necklace came flying and just about clocked him.”

  “You saw the locket?” My jaw might have dropped at the news.

  “I don’t know if it was the locket. But, yeah, he caught the necklace. And I swear, it was like the act shook him. He literally shuddered.”

  “Who is he? What does he look like?” I couldn’t help but blurt it out, jealousy suddenly burning hot inside me.

  “No idea. But he’s cute as shit. If I wasn’t getting married…” Jellia tossed her head. The blood of our Italian ancestors really showed in her dark hair.


  “Where did you last see him?”

  “Why?”

  A lion didn’t need an excuse. But a brother did. “So I can check if it’s the locket, and if it is, give it back to its owner.”

  “Just looking for an excuse to see that sorceress again,” my sister huffed.

  “If her locket is found and returned, then I’ll have no excuse to see her anymore. Would that make you happy?”

  “Yes.” Jellia eyed me. “You’re really just tracking jewelry for her?”

  I made the devil happy as I lied. “Yup.”

  Jellia bought the excuse and told me she’d last seen the dude who’d caught the necklace on the shuffle head deck. A small one located at the prow of the ship, well out of the way of passengers and windows.

  Just before Jellia left, she paused in the door. “Promise you’ll stay away from the witch.”

  “You want me to stay away from the witch, Dorothy?” I deliberately used the wrong name instead of Jane.

  “Yes. Promise me.”

  “I promise to keep my hands off Dorothy.” I earned even more brownie points with Lucifer. Yet what choice did I have? No way was I promising to stay far from Jane.

  We had unfinished business. Hence why, the moment my sister left, I hunted down the guy with the locket.

  He didn’t prove hard to find. Desmond, some kind of lord who claimed he came from an alternate Ha’el dimension, was mourning the loss of his one true love. She’d betrayed him. Been a traitor to his country. Blah. Blah. Blah.

  The story had a bevy of women enthralled. Luckily, Jane was not one of them. Jinjur, on the other hand, stared at him raptly.

  I sidled close to my sister. “He’s not that great.” I summed him up, noticing I not only had a few inches on Desmond but that I possessed much better hair.

  “It’s so tragic. His fiancée was forsaken for her crimes. He can’t even speak her name. It’s forbidden.”

  “So he claims.” I eyed the handsome fellow with mistrust. Was this the same guy Jellia claimed had caught the locket? He’d dressed in a casual suit, which meant light linen jacket over a thin dress shirt and slacks. It also meant a number of pockets that could hide the necklace.