Her Three Wicked Mates

chapter 1

Elara'S POV

The little bell affixed above the entrance jingled, signaling another arrival into the already bustling atmosphere of the bookstore. A wave of warm, damp air washed over me as the inefficient air conditioning unit sputtered to life.

I quickly finished the sale, placing the two hefty travel guides and the corresponding receipt into the bag.

“Have a pleasant evening,” I told the woman, handing over her purchase. She offered a brief smile before heading for the exit.

A couple approached the counter next, their arms stacked high with an eclectic mix of vintage fantasy paperbacks. As I began scanning the items, my eyes automatically swept across the interior of the shop behind them. Alex, my coworker, was supposed to be assisting customers, but as usual, he was conspicuously absent. The definition of a slacker. I genuinely disliked working alongside him.

The moment there was a brief lull in the transactions, I grabbed the store intercom.

“We will be closing in ten minutes. Please bring all purchases to the register,” I announced.

A fresh queue immediately formed, and I returned to processing sales.

Once the final shopper was out the door, I slid the deadbolt into place and let out a long, weary sigh.

“Alex!” My voice was sharp as I stared down the aisles of packed bookshelves.

His blond, curly head popped up from behind a shelf.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

I fixed him with a scowl.

“Where have you been hiding for the past sixty minutes?”

“Straightening the floor.” He offered a casual shrug. “Why the fuss?”

“Forget it.” I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose and started the process of closing out the cash register. “That sales floor better be absolutely immaculate by the time I’m done with this, Alex.”

He shot me an irritated glance before disappearing back down an aisle.

“You’re not the boss, you know,” he muttered.

He was right. I wasn’t the manager, but if I waited for Liz to appear and handle the closing duties, we’d be stuck here until dawn. She’d gone out to grab food, like, two hours prior. I felt the urge to report his consistent dereliction of duty to the owner, but it just wasn’t my style.

Just as I finalized the closing reports and reached for my handbag, Liz hurried in through the back door. She rushed toward the counter, clumsily knocking over a pile of newspapers in the process.

“Oh! You finished the final tally.” She gave me a wide, grateful smile. “Thanks, Elara, I owe you big time.”

She used that exact phrase every single night.

“Well, I’m off. Goodnight.” I gave a quick wave over my shoulder and let myself out.

The humid night air felt thick and heavy as I inhaled. A fine layer of sweat had already formed on my exposed arms by the time I pulled open my car door. My old Toyota Corolla struggled, sputtering briefly as I turned the key in the ignition before finally settling into a muted rumble. Backing out of the parking spot, I could feel the tension of the workday dissolving with every passing moment.

Home was merely a couple of miles away, located within a rather dreary apartment complex. It was a shelter, and right now, that was the extent of my concern.

I parked in a convenient, free spot close to my ground-floor entrance. Blaring, rhythmic music poured from a nearby half-open door as I walked past. Of course, it was Saturday. The apartment next door was competing by aggressively broadcasting opera, seemingly attempting to drown out the hip-hop. Good luck to them. The conflicting noise hurried my steps.

Fumbling for my keys, I unlocked and entered my apartment. The lights were on, and at this hour, my younger brother should definitely be here.

“Orion?” I called out.

Silence.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead. Orion stood frozen in front of the small table, his face devoid of color, staring fixedly at a tiny box about the size of a bracelet case. The item’s black-and-gold swirl design was sickeningly familiar. A cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Not this again.

I snatched the box up quickly.

“When did this get here?”

“Just now,” he whispered, turning his wide, frightened eyes toward me. “There was a knock on the door maybe two minutes before you walked in.”

I studied his worried expression. Despite being eleven years my junior, he was already taller than me and still growing. I shifted my focus back to the box and cautiously lifted the lid. Inside lay a receipt from the very bookstore where I worked, dated for this evening. On the reverse, written in what appeared to be blood, were the words: Elara, get out or you die.

I dropped the box onto the table. It instantly disintegrated in a flurry of crackling, crimson magical sparks. My stalker had tracked us down once more.

“I refuse to go,” Orion declared, crossing his arms stubbornly. “Let them come.”

“Are you out of your mind? Has it been so long since the last time you forgot what happens if we don’t leave right this minute?”

Damn it! I had thoroughly warded the place, yet they always found a way to reach us.

“I’m too old for this nonsense,” Orion grumbled, frowning deeply.

“You don’t even have your wand yet. Now, grab your bag. We are leaving. Two minutes.”

With a heavy sigh of frustration, he disappeared down the hall.

I drew my citrine wand and used a quick spell to summon my purse and my emergency bug-out backpack. Shoving my purse inside the pack, I threw it over my shoulder.

“Orion, let’s move!” I yelled.

It felt profoundly unfair to him, constantly dragging him from one place to the next every few months. This frantic lifestyle had been our reality for the last seven years, but we had no other choice.

There was nowhere truly secure to leave him. However, now that he had finished high school and was on the verge of turning eighteen, a small ray of hope existed. He was scheduled to attend the supernatural boarding school AKaelenmy Obscura for the next two years. That campus was said to be absolutely impenetrable. He would finally be safe there. Only then could I focus entirely on dealing with my stalker and the people who relentlessly hunted us.

“Ready,” Orion announced, jogging back into the room. “Where’s the destination this time?”

“A long way from here.”

I clasped the small locket around my neck and swallowed hard. Closing my eyes, I focused my mind on the location: a stunning waterfront surrounded by green hills, forests, and the city skyline. I had been there once, years ago, before all the running began.

I released the locket and seized Orion’s hand. The kitchen window abruptly imploded, spraying shards of glass everywhere as a figure clad in a black, hooded robe scrambled into the room. My heart rate shot up. With a swift flick of my wand, we vanished in a thick haze of purple smoke.

When the smoke dissipated, we stood in a quiet park, overlooking the calm expanse of water. The reflection of city lights and a crescent moon shimmered on the still surface. The air here was considerably cooler and almost crisp.

We had escaped again, managing to make it out with only seconds to spare. There was always a critical time delay between the arrival of the black-and-gold box and the attack, but the exact duration was frustratingly inconsistent. To this day, I still couldn’t determine if my stalker was genuinely attempting to send a warning and provide protection, or if this was all part of a twisted, sadistic cat-and-mouse game.

The same terrifying anxiety always gnawed at me, even when we were safely away. One day, I would react too slowly. One day, they would finally catch us.

“Where exactly are we?” Orion asked, looking around.

“Olympia, Washington.”