Hi everyone. Today I am featuring AK Nevermore's latest release this holiday season "Wards and Warlocks." Dive into the details for this Spicy M/M/ Small-Town Paranormal Romance and find out why you want to read this for your new year reading goal. Check out Book 1 in the Star-Crossed Chronicles too and start the series today. Happy reading everyone. :)
Felix rubbed his freckled temples, elbows digging into the blotter on his desk, silence thick in his ears. He pushed back in his plush leather chair, one of many self-serving, sinful indulgences the former mayor had pissed away tax dollars on, and stared at the suspended ceiling above.
That was bowed and had a steadily growing water stain across it.
“How?” he asked his secretary. “How is a clusterfu—I mean a problem of this magnitude possible?”
“It’s the weres,” Lorraine said matter-of-factly from her mobility scooter parked in front of his desk. Her wrinkled lips pruned. “Alway stirring up trouble. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Decent, God-fearing folk don’t truck with all that alpha nonsense. Criminals and bullies, every last one of them.”
Felix’s eyelids fluttered as he prayed for strength.
Lorraine shook her cane to emphasize her point, though Lord only knew why the unpleasant old woman had one, aside from using it to threaten the populace. He was more than a little convinced she’d melded with her Lark to become a terrifying geriatric cyborg.
She sniffed at his silence, her self-righteous frown making her look even more like an ill-tempered bulldog in a wig than usual.
Breathe, Felix. Trying to correct her speciest bullshit wasn’t going to do anything but compound his headache. He blew out a slow breath, dispelling the power he’d inadvertently manifested. He didn’t need that kind of karma tipping his scales.
He had enough problems, as evidenced by the four hundred pages of calamity Lorraine had just wheeled in, levying formal charges against Havers-by-the-Sea for the willful misappropriation of magical resources.
“Has the town’s lawyer seen this yet?” Felix asked, riffling an edge of the stack.
“Our lawyer?” She pushed up the side of her glasses, sending their pearl chain swinging. “No. The Montgomery boy was on retainer—against my recommendation, I’ll have you know—but he up and resigned after the mess that Westside pack of his put us in.”
And it just kept getting better.
But it tracked. Felix pursed his lips with a slow nod. Who would want to come back here after getting the stuffing beaten out of them and landing in traction for eight-plus weeks?
Yeah, not it, and apparently Patrick Montgomery felt the same.
“Okay,” Felix said slowly, drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk. “Do we have any local candidates for the position?”
Lorraine opened her mouth, then closed it quick, shaking her head hard enough to knock her wig awry.
Felix cocked a brow as she wiggled it back into place. He was sure that meant there was, but for whatever reason, they didn’t have the Lorraine Murklin stamp of approval. Without it, he didn’t have a chance of prying a name out of her. Felix raked a pale hand through his flaming curls. Maybe someone else at town hall would spill, but either way, not having a lawyer available to look at this mess was a problem.
He steepled his fingers, trying to channel authority. “If there’s no one local, then we should probably be advertising the position outside of the church bulletin and the Pizza Palace community board.”
“We put an ad in the paper…” She looked at him blankly. “Or do you mean like the library?”
“Sure.” Felix tried very hard to remain calm. She’s like a trillion years old. Be nice. “But we’d probably have more luck on one of those internet job sites. In fact, I’m pretty positive there’s one specifically for municipal openings.”
Lorraine’s eyes narrowed. “The only thing you’re going to find on the internet is a bunch of hoodlums asking for money and showing their feet.” She scowled, probably thinking he was one of them.
Wasn’t a bad idea, actually. The hours would certainly be better, and he could write off his pedicures.
“Okay,” Felix drawled, putting a pin in that as a future career possibility, “but how about we post something and just see how it goes? Get me a copy of what we placed in the Havers’s Herald, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Fine, but it’s on your head.” She muttered something about perverts, threw her scooter into reverse, and backed into a chair. She glared at him like it was his fault, then floored it, heading out of his office at a disdainful mile-per-hour crawl.
Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. Heaven help him, but it shouldn’t be this difficult. Though, he suspected he should be lucky he had a secretary at all, considering the pittance the last mayor had approved for her salary. That was also a problem. They didn’t have the budget to hire the kind of legal counsel they abruptly needed. Fingers crossed, maybe they could find someone to do the work pro-bono, or pay them in reclaimed granite curbing. Public defenders were a thing, right? Felix raked a hand through his hair. Could he be more in over his head with this? Whatever.
Worst case, so were foot videos.
God. Yule might almost be here, but everything that’d happened on Samhain was the gift that kept on frickin’ giving. He glared at the ferret cage in the corner of his office. “I hope you’re happy.”
The previous mayor-turned-weasel poked his head up and chittered at Felix with zero remorse. The coven should’ve let Matilda turn him into a frog. That cage was far cushier than Chambers deserved, and that was even before this lawsuit had hit Felix’s desk.
He fell back in his chair and closed his eyes. What had ever possessed the man to use iron in those turbine foundations instead of the approved materials…Whatever. What was done was done, and glutton for punishment that he was, Felix had stepped up to deal with the fallout from the previous administration’s disruption of the leyline’s flow of magic into the neighboring town of Fayet.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t actually taken into consideration that it would mean having to interact with the miserable municipality. He’d put his neck in the noose because he wanted to help put Havers-by-the-Sea back together after Chambers, Malcom, and the Westside pack had done their damndest to flatten it.
Yep. Wouldn’t be making that mistake again. What they should be doing was advertising for a new mayor. Approved overtime or not, whatever civic duty Felix might’ve felt had long since evaporated, and his qualifications were sketchy at best. Being Chamber’s assistant had not prepared him for any of this.
Any inroads he’d attempted to make with Fayet on Havers’s behalf had hit a wall before they’d even begun. He couldn’t even see frustration in his rearview mirror he was so far past it. The animosity between the two towns was thick, and starving out their magical practitioners hadn’t improved the situation. Now with this lawsuit alleging…? There was zero chance of settling out of court.
In short, they were screwed.
The alarm on his phone beeped, and Felix’s headache was abruptly that much worse. Time to trade one clusterfuck for another. He silenced it and stood, grabbing his parka from the little closet. He didn’t care if Jena said the white, puffy coat made him look like a man-mallow, it was warm and outside was freezing.
Felix ducked into its collar, shoulders around his ears as he slipped out town hall’s side door. He swore as an icy blast of wind hit him, and he headed across the street to Haver’s elementary school, rock salt and sand crunching beneath his checkered loafers. He grumbled down at the sidewalk, a frown marring his lips. If he hadn’t already been in a shitty mood, the weather and having to deal with his sister Felicia’s drama would’ve more than finished the job.
That entire situation was beyond untenable. The way his parents were constantly enabling her bullshit made him nuts, and getting sucked back into her crisis-of-the-week was trashing his mental health. As soon as the holidays were over, he needed to put his foot down. If his parents wanted to raise Felicia’s kids, that was on them, but as of January first, he was out. She needed to understand there were consequences to her actions, and his parents weren’t doing her any favors by picking up the slack.
Hah. Slack. More like the full monty. Felicia and responsibility weren’t even tangentially acquainted. Yes, there were “reasons” but her growing the fuck up and getting sober would solve ninety percent of those.
A line of cars waited outside the elementary school, and parents milled around in tight little groups, their breaths clouding as they gossiped. Felix hunched beside a sandwich board trying to keep out of the wind. He scanned the announcements on it reminding everyone of the impending winter break and upcoming pageant. Groan. They were doing A Christmas Carol. Someone was getting a medal for originality in their stocking.
Felix rolled his eyes, but judging by how animated the soccer moms were, the production was a hot topic of conversation, and everyone was waiting for opening night with bated breath.
Bully for them. He’d rather gouge his eyeballs out with a—
“Hey, Felix.”
He glanced up from the announcements and molten coffee eyes caught his. His pulse jumped, and he scowled at his heart jumping, looking away. “Liam,” he muttered, kicking a patch of ice.
“You here picking up Axle and Sway?” the were asked, his hands jammed into his big corduroy barn jacket. A thick, red scarf was wrapped around his throat, and his messy cherry cola waves just brushed his collar. More than one person waiting changed their stance to check him out and preen.
And damn him, but he did look that good. Better than Felix had expected, actually. The last time he’d seen the were, he was getting carted away on a stretcher. But bouncing back better than ever was just classic Liam now, wasn’t it? Had the looks and luck of the gods, always getting off easy with zero repercussions. Felix’s rotten mood darkened. “Yeah. Doesn’t Jenny usually pick up your kids?”
Liam nodded and scratched his stubbled jaw. A group of soccer moms sighed and one looked faint. “This custody thing—”
“Nope, don’t care,” Felix said, nipping that in the bud. He stepped away as he spotted two of his sister’s urchins pushing through the school’s big double doors, though you wouldn’t know they were related at first glance. Sway had definitely taken after Felicia in the looks department, but the rest of her kids favored their dads—whoever the hell they might be.
“Uncle Felix!” Sway whooped at the top of her lungs, shoving through the crowd at breakneck speed. Her messy red pigtails streamed out behind her as she threatened to take out everyone she passed with her glittery, oversized backpack.
Felix’s eyelids fluttered, sure she was about to end up with a cast on her other wrist. Child had zero sense of self-preservation or any situational awareness. Axle followed at a much slower pace, the scowl on his face rivaling Felix’s earlier as the nine-year-old carefully picked around each patch of ice, imaginary or otherwise.
Sway plowed into Felix, and his breath went out in a whoosh. “Can we go to the playground?” she asked, clamped to one of his legs. She tilted her head back, peering up around the bulk of his parka, only the ridiculous poof on her beanie and her bright, hazel eyes visible. “Pleeease?”
“What? No, it’s like four degrees,” he said, shaking her off to walk back the way he’d just come—and very pointedly away from Liam, whether he noticed or not. By all the simpering, it sounded like the that gaggle of moms had already pounced on him. Whatever. It was the principle of the thing.
“So?” Sway asked like freezing her ass to the slide wasn’t a very real concern.
“So, you’ll get frostbite, and I have things to do.”
“Like what?” she asked, running around him in circles.
God, had he ever had that much energy? Even at six, he was pretty sure the answer was no. “Super mysterious adult-y things.” Okay, so he had a date with his couch, leftover Chinese take-out, and Schitt’s Creek reruns, but mysterious adult-y things definitely sounded better.
Sway stopped at the corner to clasp her hands together and bounce up and down. “Can we come with you? We’ll be super good, Axle promises.”
“No, I don’t, and you won’t,” her brother muttered, catching up to them. He was a swarthy little dude, but hadn’t escaped the Simms’ family curse of freckles. “Besides, you already promised to help Gran make cookies.”
Sway rolled her eyes, and Felix caught her collar right as she went to step into oncoming traffic. “If Uncle Felix is picking us up, then she’s not making cookies, stupid. Something happened.”
They both looked at him with the same question on their faces. Goddamn it, Felicia. Your kids shouldn’t be wondering if you’re dead. “Nothing happened. Gran and Gramps just had to take the screamer in for her rabies shots, and it ran long or something. As far as I know, you’re still making cookies.”
“Oh.” Sway’s brow creased, then smoothed. “Well, that’s okay then. As long as they’re not gingerbread. I hate those. Kitty Weaton told me they have mole asses in them.”
Axle sneered. “God, you’re so dumb. It’s molasses, and those are the best,” he said, abruptly animated. “They’re like voodoo cookies, and you can bite off the heads of your enemies.”
“You have many of those?” Felix asked, hauling Sway along with him as he crossed the street.
“Not for long.” Axle grinned, his canines a titch too long and his freckled nose scrunched up in glee. He ran across the parking lot to Felix’s car with an evil laugh.
Guaranteed, that kid’s sperm donor was some shade of demonic.
Felix rubbed a temple and made a mental note to tell his mother it was time for “the talk.” No matter how shitty—or predisposed for evil—Axle’s parents might be, the kid couldn’t just go around hexing people.
“He cries at night,” Sway abruptly piped up at Felix’s side.
He looked down at her too sincere face. “Who? Axle?”
She nodded. “Don’t tell him I told.”
“Look,” Felix sighed, “you guys know your mom will be back soon, right?”
Sway frowned. “Yeah. Why else would he be crying?”
***
Liam ignored the mom squad that’d descended upon him, plastering a grin on his face and nodding whenever there was a pause in the conversation. Shit, had he just agreed to dinner? It was hard to focus over his inner wolf’s keening, but he probably had given the way the rest of them were glaring at Miranda Clarke. Whatever. Wasn’t happening. He glanced past them, his heart in his throat as Felix walked away.
Liam bit back a curse. He’d fucked up again. He’d known Felix was still pissed at him, but that’d been so long ago… Liam chewed his lip. He just—God, Felix was so damned adorable in that massive parka with his checkered loafers and wild curls. Liam knew he should’ve kept his distance, but he just wanted to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. To explain. He’d been such a fucking asshole. So stupid.
He puffed out his cheeks, kicking himself for not listening to Kelsey. His twin sister was right, he needed to give Felix space, but all her advice went out the window the second Liam had seen the warlock. Damn it, he needed to play it cool. Felix would run screaming if he had any idea of what shit show was playing between Liam’s ears. He smiled at Miranda, no fucking clue what she was talking about. Some Yule party? Didn’t matter. He was pretty sure all of them would be running if they knew how medicated he needed to be just to stand there.
Christ, maybe he should spill his guts.
No. He needed to keep his shit together, especially with this damned divorce. Felix would come around. Liam had to believe that, but he couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly his wolf wanted him to. He had to think, take his time, and be consistent. Show up and prove he could be there without strings attached.
No squirreling, no obsessing, and stay medicated.
Jesus, that sounded like the same laundry list the marriage counselor had thrown at him before it all went to—
“What are you doing here?”
Shit.
Liam closed his eyes for a breath before he turned, the mom squad scattering. Jenny stood just behind him, glaring. His soon-to-be-ex-wife looked haggard, far too thin and pale, with dark circles rimming her eyes. His weren’t much better, but he’d found a brand of under-eye patches and some concealer that worked miracles. Unfortunately, he didn’t think she’d appreciate the recommendation.
He forced himself to smile at her. Amicable. Be amicable. “Hey, Jenny, I just—”
“We talked about this, Liam,” she hissed, glancing askance at the surrounding crowd. “You have the paperwork. There’s no reason for you to be here.”
He nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Right. Yeah. I know.”
She shook her head hard enough to send her platinum locks swaying beneath her knitted cap and pulled her scarf tighter around her throat. “Then why did you come? Pete wants to take out a restraining order on you, and shit like this makes me think it might be a good idea. If it’s about the money—”
It wasn’t, but. “That doesn’t exactly help the situation,” Liam muttered, one eye on the listening crowd, slower than usual to hurry away, despite the cold.
A pair of slim tow-headed kids came out of the school and stopped when they saw him. That had to be the twins. Derek and Cassi. They’d still been in diapers when he’d left, and Jenny’d been pregnant with Mike, the youngest. God, they looked just like her, aside from their eyes. Those were a luminescent green, instead of a shifter’s brown. Liam searched their features for any resemblance to him. It was stupid. He knew there wouldn’t be, though he couldn’t say he saw anything of Pete in them, either. Whatever, it didn’t matter who their father was. It wasn’t Liam.
You are not the father…
A fist clenched around his heart. How it was worse seeing it in black and white than it had been hearing her spit it at him still didn’t make any sense, but there it was.
“I told you, the money’s gone,” she said, hurrying over and herding them toward a crappy minivan. “All of it.”
Money. It’d never been about the fucking money. Not for him at least. What he’d sent home he could’ve swallowed losing, but the loans she and Pete had taken out in Liam’s name, how in the fuck was he ever going to pay them back?
And if he pressed charges against her, what was going to happen to those kids?
Goddamn it. Liam’s jaw tensed as the minivan door hitched as it slid to the side, and the twins climbed in. He got a brief glimpse of another little blond boy in a booster seat. She slammed the door shut twice before it latched, then glared at Liam one last time, rounding to the driver’s side and joining them. He stood there, watching them drive away, not one of them looking back.
Neither had Felix.
Merry fucking Christmas. Liam blew out a breath and slowly walked down the street toward Cups. Yep. He’d fucked up all right. He grimaced, cursing himself. With the benefit of hindsight, he was able to pinpoint the exact moment he’d pissed everything away. What the fuck had he been thinking? God, if he had a time machine, he’d go back and kick his own ass for that bullshit he’d spewed at prom. Since then, nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.
And he had no one to blame but himself.
Damn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d checked all the boxes. Had gotten the wife, kids—a house with a picket fence and the stupid degree to pay for it—and everything had still fallen to shit.
He’d tried. He’d really fucking tried to keep Jenny happy, but…“What did you expect, Liam? Even when you’re here, you’re not. I need someone who isn’t just going through the motions, someone who’s going to treasure me, and I can’t keep pretending this is working.”
He couldn’t either, and not divorcing her then and there had been fucking stupid, but that goddamned alpha part of him…he wasn’t, and needed to stop trying to be one. Every time he let his wolf rear up, things just got worse.
Liam sighed and pulled the door to Cups open, the bell above tinging. Garlands decorated the walls and low holiday jazz played. The little tables that dotted the space were packed with people chatting over coffee and having late lunches. Greta Hornsby, the proprietress, glanced up at him as she rang a customer out, the line at the counter two people deep. He smiled at her and stepped to the back, hoping a double mocha espresso would put a better spin on the day.
“Hey, Liam,” Becky Swann said, turning to him and twirling a bleach blonde lock around her finger. “Long time, no see.”
“Yeah.” He forced another smile and looked away, hoping she would get the hint.
“I heard your divorce isn’t going so hot. You know, if you ever need someone to talk to,” she said, as she smoothed her hand down his chest and fiddled with his scarf, “I’m more than happy to listen.”
Go away. His smile widened, bordering on rictus. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She batted his arm coyly. “Do. I’ll certainly be thinking of you…I can’t believe Jenny was fucking Pete Randall for all those years behind your back. It’s no wonder you left. You deserve better.”
Did he? Because he was pretty sure that was on him, too. Liam took a deep breath, not in the mood to discuss their open marriage, or the reasons for it. Like everything else, it’d sounded like a good idea at the time, but—
“Is it true all of those kids are really his?” she pressed, way too close to him.
His hackles rose, and he swallowed a surge of bile-tainted anger, stepping around her to the counter. “Double mocha espresso, to go.” Fuck, coming in here had been a bad idea.
Greta frowned as she rang it up with something akin to pity on her face.
“Berry frap,” Becky chimed in, oblivious as she added it to his tab. The rest of the shop’s customers had gone silent, chewing very quietly as they waited for his answer.
They weren’t getting one.
“Order up!” Kelsey called through the little window. His sister’s gaze landed on him and her brows furrowed. She tilted her head toward the side entrance, and he nodded, handing Greta his card. She ran it, and he took it along with his cup, though he couldn’t say coffee sounded very appetizing anymore.
“Well, like I said, if you ever want to talk…” Becky twirled her hair again.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you,” he said, heading for the exit.
“Wait, I didn’t give you my—”
The door closed behind him, cutting her off, and Liam scooted around the side of the building before she caught up with him. Goddamn it. The last thing he needed was to hook up with Becky Swann, Miranda Clarke, or any of his other past conquests looking to relive high school.
Christ, but it had seemed so much easier then. He’d just been having fun, male, female, it didn’t matter with who—until Felix, and then—then it got complicated.
And nothing Liam had done since had improved the situation.
He leaned against Cups’ pink brick wall and knocked his head against it. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
“You know that’s not actually gonna knock any sense into you, right?” Kelsey asked, slipping outside. “Here. I screwed up an order,” she said, tossing him a bag stamped with holly sprigs and shivering as she pulled her sweater closer to her throat.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“You see Jenny?” his sister asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t…she didn’t give me a chance to ask about Sarah.” The other kids might not be his, but their oldest’s paternity test had come back inconclusive. They were running it again, but with the holidays, it could be another three weeks before they knew anything for sure. He’d hoped to spend some time with her in the interim, but unfortunately, Sarah was old enough to remember him. More specifically, him leaving.
Kelsey grunted. “She can’t keep you from your kid, Liam.”
“She can if Sarah doesn’t want to see me.” And given the shit show that’d ensued the last time he’d tried, she didn’t. Christ, could he blame her? Pete had gone mental.
His sister chewed her nail. “You’re still going to therapy and taking your meds, right?”
“Yeah.” For all the good it was doing. If Sarah’s paternity test came back as a match, his stint in the psych ward after Samhain wasn’t going to help his case for joint custody, that was for sure. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to fuck up again, and a restraining order would set fire to any chances he had of seeing her, period.
Especially if they found out what’d happened in Los Huego. He’d done his best to bury it, but there’d been too many people there to guarantee his past wouldn’t come knocking at some point.
Kelsey blew out her cheeks, her breath clouding as soon as it left her lips. “Look, I gotta get back inside, but why don’t you come with me to Jena’s tomorrow for dinner? They’re having an early Yule party, and she and Chase are always asking about you. They’d love to see you, and Aggie’s making lasagna again. The last time they sent me home with a week’s worth of leftovers. I know there’ll be enough for one more at the table.”
He looked up, blinking back tears. “I dunno…”
“Liam.” His sister put a hand on his arm. “You shouldn’t be alone so much, and people care about you. You need to let them and get out of your head once in a while. This front you put up…it’s not healthy. You’re allowed to feel shit.”
Like shit, yeah. He did plenty of that. He ducked his face from her and swept a hand over his eyes. “Sure, okay. What time tomorrow?”
“Six.” She raised her brow like she didn’t believe him.
Be consistent. Show up and prove you can be there for them.
He blew out a breath. That went for the rest of his family, too.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
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