Chapter 6

“You’re playing with fire,” Toulouse groused from below me as I picked up the doll once again.

“Luna is going to be mine, sooner or later. Mind your business, Toulouse, or I’ll mind it for you,” I warned darkly before whispering the incantation over the doll so quietly I doubted even my familiar could hear it.

“ Come inside,” I whispered against the doll’s ear, letting my lips brush against the rough burlap just slightly as I watched her through the crystal ball. She was right outside. A vision in a light blue shift dress that hung just to her calves, highlighting her curves in a delicate and understated way. The sheer innocence of the woman called to me, begged me to corrupt her. She would be so easily manipulated, so effortlessly drawn into my dark webs of power. My cock hardened as I once again imagined how I would dominate and break her.

The bell above the front door sounded, just as I had predicted. Our connection was strong; the doll enhancing the magic that simmered between the two of us. I wanted so desperately to push that simmer to a boil, but patience is exactly where I had made my mistake all those years before. This would not be the same. I would make sure of it.

I stayed at the back of the shop, letting her look around for a few moments. Anticipation was half the fun when luring in an innocent soul, and what kind of Boko would I be if I didn’t take a little fun for myself in the process??

“You’re taking more than a little fun, Bash,” Toulouse scolded.

“Stay out of my mind, rodent,” I hissed menacingly. With a hiss of his own in response, the black feline scurried off to the front room, light as a whip on the tip of his toes, tail flicking back and forth as he scampered off.

I let my fingers slip between the doll’s thighs, barely grazing my fingertip over where I knew her clit to be. Even from the back room, I could hear her soft gasp. My ears were well attuned to the slightest sound, and I reveled in the knowledge that my slight touch could make her gasp, could make her whimper. Ancestors help me, how I yearned to make her scream and beg for mercy as I had my way with her. Soon.

“Hello?” she called. I slid the doll back into its hiding place and brushed off my jacket. Time to take things to the next level.

“ Ma chère , how lovely to see you again,” I greeted as I slipped into the front room, almost without a sound. I suppressed a smile as she jumped, startled at my sudden presence mere feet behind her. The moment of fear in her eyes was like a drug that I was quickly becoming addicted to. I needed more.

“Mr. Broussard, hello. I’m sorry, I just realized your sign says you do not open for another two hours. The door was open and I… well…” she trailed off, anxiously playing with the strap of her purse.

Ancestor’s ashes. I could smell her anxiety, like the scent of a fine wine I longed to drink my fill of.

Kindness and friendship would be all she felt from me today. It would further strengthen my power over her emotions. “Think nothing of it, ma chère . Come in, and tell me your troubles.” I crossed to where she stood, looking all at once like she was about to bolt out of the door, and yet unwilling to leave. I could not have asked for a more perfect place for her indecisions to lie.

“That being said, I should have made sure I relocked the door after I arrived.”?

Standing altogether too close to her, I slid my arm around behind. Our bodies were close enough to touch, and yet I stayed back, hovering a breath away from her as my fingers flipped the lock with a resounding click. Her quick gasp of surprise shot straight to my cock, making me hard, making me want to discover just how many different touches would cause such a reaction, and more. How would she sound when I used my cane on her? When I cut her skin to mark her as my own???

Her perfume was intoxicating, mixed with the deeper scent of her fear and uncertainty. Delicate and sweet, like peonies in the spring, but there was something beneath it, an amber note that reminded me of the deep night and all the secrets it kept hidden. I wanted to unlock each of her hidden secrets and make them my own, to make her my own. And I was almost there. Almost.

“Now,” I muttered darkly, “let’s have a chat about those troubles of yours.”?

“How do you know I have troubles?” she asked, the thin line of her brow arching sharply above her right eye.

“ Ma chère ,” I whispered, my fingers finding her chin and lifting until her eyes met mine. “It is quite obvious. Why don’t you let me help you? Free of charge. On my honor.” I held up three fingers, like the boy scout symbol. The corners of her lips tilted up in the barest hint of a smile.

She seemed to war with herself for a moment, considering her options before she agreed.

“Alright. Why not?” She shrugged lightly, holding her purse to her stomach almost protectively. My little dark moon was an insecure one, but that just made the chase more fun. I led her to the back of the shop, past the beaded curtain like before, and into the reading room.

“Have a seat, Ms. Landry. Would you like a cup of tea?” I offered, knowing already that she would say yes. After days of watching her, of invading her dreams every night through the power of the doll, I had a fairly firm grasp on what made this lovely innocent tick.

“Oh! Tea would be lovely, thank you. I take my tea—”

“Sugar, but never cream, hmm? I told you, Ms. Landry, I know many things.” I said with a wink, leaving her gaping in shock as I left to prepare her drink. Shutting the door behind me, I made quick work of the preparations. As the tea steeped, I found the small vial of blue liquid, pulling the stopper and carefully placing three drops into her cup.

“Bash…” Toulouse warned, but I simply snapped my fingers, silencing the obstinate familiar. The potion was a simple one, and nothing terribly sinister. A truth serum with a relaxing agent to make her feel at ease. The sooner she opened up and allowed me to build trust with her, the sooner the magic would strengthen. And the sooner I could have my way with this lost soul. I was a master at manipulating the emotions of the hapless mortals who came into my sway, but I was not above tipping the scales in my favor when the opportunity presented itself.

“Here we are.” I placed the two cups of tea on the table before us, sliding into my seat across from her. The anxiety had only seemed to increase in my absence, and I inhaled languidly, imbibing it like the finest pipe smoke. “Drink. It will make you feel better.”?

She lifted the mug to her lips, then paused, her eyes darting to mine.

“How do I know you didn’t spike this with some potion?” She eyed me cautiously.

“I thought you were a non-believer. So what could I possibly do to you?” I parried. For as much innocence as she possessed, there was a tiny spark of brat in her I found wildly intriguing, and twice as arousing. Breaking those who had spirit was always more satisfying.

“Real poisons exist in this world, Mr. Broussard,” she countered beautifully.

“That they do, ma chère . And please, I have told you to call me Bash. I believe we are becoming friends, and I insist you call me by my real name.”?

“So Mr. Broussard isn’t your real name?” she asked in challenge, setting the mug back down on the table. I took the mug from her, my eyes holding her gaze as I took a sip. Immediately, her shoulders relaxed, and she took the mug back from me, taking a drink for herself. Her eyes lit up with pleasure. “Oh, my! What is this?”?

“It’s a special blend. One I create myself. Do you like it?”?

“I do! It’s warm and spicy, and … calming, somehow. It’s quite delicious. Thank you.”?

“You are quite welcome. Now, back to your question. My real name is Sebastien Broussard, but those who I allow to be close to me call me Bash.”?

“So, you want to allow me to be close to you?”?

“I would like you to feel comfortable with me, yes. Will you tell me what is troubling you?”?

“What makes you think something is troubling me?”?

“It’s very obvious, ma chère . Your body has been racked with anxiety and nervous energy since you walked through that door. The question remains; what is the cause of such worry and stress? Is it trouble with friends? Perhaps work? Or has the muse left you?” I asked, watching every expression on her face with rapt attention. If there was one thing I was good at outside of magic, it was reading people. Most of those idiots and tourists who came through my doors seeking a fortune were as easy to read as a children’s book. It took no magic to tell them what they wanted to hear and send them on their way.

“My muse?” She asked quizzically.

“Yes, is your muse failing you? Are you struggling with your sketches?” I watched as her jaw dropped in shock.

“How did you know I was an artist?” she asked in the barest of whispers. While I wanted nothing more than to feed her belief in my abilities, I knew that the real purpose of this visit was to gain her trust.

Patience, Sebastien. All will come in due time, ancestors willing. ?

I reached across the table, taking her hand in mine and flipping it over until I could see the pads of her fingers. Softly, almost sensually, I let my fingers glide over the darkened smudges where the charcoal had permanently darkened her skin. “Such stains only occur with repeated use of charcoal, if I am not mistaken. So, I assumed you are an artist, and your preferred medium is charcoal sketching of some kind. Am I correct?”?

Without pulling her hand back from my own, she smirked, nodding her head.

“Your powers of deduction are quite astute, Mr. Broussard.”?

“Please, call me Bash,” I reminded her gently.

“Alright, but only if you stop calling me Ms. Landry. Makes me feel like my mother.” Her nose scrunched up in distaste in quite a charming way.

“I think I can agree to that… Luna.” My eyes scanned over her body, from the way her lashes curled darkly around her chocolate brown eyes, down to the cupid’s bow pucker of her mouth. A mouth I wanted so badly to fuck, right this very minute. Those eyes would look even more beautiful with tears running down them, ruining her meticulously applied mascara. “Now, back to the matter at hand. What is it that troubles you?”?

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” She smiled again, bringing the mug to her lips once more. The way her head bowed and her eyes lowered had my cock hardening further.

“Not at all. It is my calling. So, if it isn’t work related, could it be something with that friend of yours you brought with you the other day? Ms. King, if I remember correctly.”?

“Oh, no. Kayla is great. We’ve been friends since our preteen days. It’s not her. It’s my idiot, bastard boyfriend.” Her shoulders dropped, her back arching forward until she sat hunched over. It was a posture of safety, wanting to protect oneself.

“Surely, you mean ex-boyfriend?” I postured, hoping that she’d had the sense to cut the loser loose and kick him to the curb where he belonged.

“No, he’s still my current boyfriend.”?

“And why is that?” I asked calmly.

“I have no actual proof he has cheated. So, I can’t just break up with him. I have to know for sure. I need to know the truth.” She shrugged pathetically, looking down into her cup of tea. The pain she felt was strong, and the urge to just claim her and keep her, to use her to my delights, was stronger still.

Shifting out of my seat, I slid around to the chair beside her, turning towards her until my body faced hers. Tenderly, I took her hands off of the cup, grasping them within my own in a gesture of kindness. The more kindness I showed her, the more she would trust me. And if she would only trust me, then I could appease the ancestors.

“Luna, you do realize that you do not need a reason to end a relationship. You can leave at any time, for any reason, or for none at all.” My eyes bored into hers, noting the glassy appearance just barely noticeable from the potion I had given her.

“I know. But I’m scared.”?

Delicious .

“Scared of what?” My hands flipped hers over, her palms laying face up on top of mine, my thumbs playing oh so lightly against the tender skin of her inner wrist. Her pouty lips opened on a gasp, that fucking gasp that had me biting back a groan of need. I wanted so badly to guide her to the back of the shop, to put her fully under my power, and to compel her to do my bidding, as the ancestors called me to do.

“I… I don’t know….” she stammered, her eyes flitting down to her lap once more. Beautiful submission that required — begged — for my twisted sadism in response. The call of the ancestor’s bidding struck deep in my bones, their chanting ringing in my ears to answer the call of this lost soul. But not yet. Not like this. This time I would not mess up. This time, I would do it right.

“Yes, you do,” I urged her, releasing her hands to lie against my knees, my fingers trailing over her forearms lightly. Her posture relaxed and her eyes lifted to mine.

“I’m scared of being alone.” Her admission was breathtaking. Those large doe eyes, full of such naivety and innocence, just begging to be ruined.

“ Ma chère ,” I whispered, my tone deepening to the rich timbre of dominance that I had longed to use on her since the moment she arrived in my shop. “Just because you leave your lover does not mean you have to be alone.”?

The tiniest bit of a smile lifted the corner of her lips.

Exquisite.