Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Elvira – Halloween’s my favorite holiday, until one teeny mishap with my practice spell. Suddenly I’m homeless, stinking of swamp gas, and dragging three black cats into a biker compound… Where I meet Chains. Big, broody, and superstitious as hell, he glares at my “demon spawn” like they’re plotting his death. But the way he looks at me? Let’s just say my spell isn’t the only thing that’s likely to combust. He’s all hard muscle and harder attitude, and I can’t tell if he wants to banish me… or bend me over the couch and have his wicked way with me. I would definitely approve of option number two!
Chains -- I don’t fear much after nine years inside, but Ellie is chaos. She’s a walking disaster. Loud, messy, and makes Halloween look like a lifestyle, not a holiday. And her damn cats have me spooked. I tell myself she’s trouble. Too naïve. Too good. Then she kisses me, and suddenly I’m ready to sell my soul for another taste. My MC brothers think it’s funny. Screw em. Elvira’s mine. And if anyone touches her, I’ll burn this place to the ground.
Chains contains memories of domestic abuse and manipulation. However, there is a happy-ever-after ending that will make you feel warm and fuzzy.
Copyright All Changeling Press LLC publications and cover art are copyright and may not be used in any AI generated work. No AI content is included or allowed in any Changeling Press LLC publication or artwork
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Elvira
I stood in the center of my apartment, surveying the disaster zone that used to be my living room. The cauldron, which was actually just my favorite stock pot, lay on its side on the stove. Dark green liquid dripped steadily from the countertop by the stove onto the cheap linoleum floor. My witches’ brew experiment had gone spectacularly wrong, again, filling the air with a stench so foul it made my eyes water. I’d only wanted to create a love potion. Instead, I’d concocted what smelled like a demonic skunk had mated with rotting eggs in a garbage fire.
“It’s okay, babies,” I cooed to the three black cats, who’d retreated to their carriers the moment the pot bubbled over. “Mommy just had a tiny magical mishap.”
Lucifer hissed from behind his carrier door, his yellow eyes narrowed in judgment. Binx paced in tight circles, while Salem had his paws pressed against his nose. Even my familiars couldn’t stand the smell.
“I know, I know. I should have followed the recipe.” I pulled my tank top over my nose, breathing through the fabric. “But who has time to find owl feathers and moonwater on a Tuesday night?”
I flung open every window in my apartment, the October air rushing in but barely making a dent in the stench. The smoke detector, which had been screaming for ten minutes, finally quieted. Green sludge dripped from the ceiling above the stove where the potion had splattered during its violent eruption. My carefully arranged Halloween decorations were now coated in something that looked like radioactive snot.
“We can fix this,” I muttered to myself, only half convinced. “Just need some bleach, maybe an exorcism, definitely a new carpet…”
The pounding on my door made me jump. “Miss Blackheart!” Yeah. He didn’t sound happy. “Open the door right now!”
“Coming, Mr. Peterson!” I sang out in my cheeriest voice, frantically attempting to right the fallen cauldron. Green goo sloshed over my fingers, burning slightly. “Just freshening up!”
I wiped my hands on my black jeans and pulled my long hair back into a heavy ponytail. Taking a deep breath, I immediately regretted it as the fumes hit my lungs, I opened the door with my most innocent smile even as my eyes watered.
Mr. Peterson stood there, his face the color of an overripe tomato. The vein in his forehead throbbed with such intensity I worried it might burst. His nostrils flared before he clamped a hand over his nose as the wall of stink hit him.
“What in God’s name --” He choked, stumbling backward. “The entire building smells like… like…”
“Aromatherapy!” I offered brightly. “It’s a, um, rare Eastern technique for cleansing negative energy.”
His eyes bulged as he peered past me into the apartment. “Your ceiling is green! There’s smoke everywhere!”
“That’s part of the process?” My voice lifted higher with each word, betraying my desperation.
“The Johnsons in 3B are throwing up. Mrs. Wittlesby’s cat fainted. The Andersons’ dog is howling like it’s seen a ghost.” He thrust a piece of paper at me. “This is an eviction notice. You’re out, Miss Blackheart.”
I took the paper with trembling fingers. “But Mr. Peterson, I’ve always paid my rent on time, and --”
“I don’t care if you paid your rent in gold bars! You’ve violated every health code in existence. People are evacuating the damn building!” The longer he spoke, the louder he got. And he’d been pretty damned loud to start with.
Behind me, one of my cats let out a mournful yowl. “Those damn black cats of yours,” he muttered, making the sign of the cross. “I knew they were bad news.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Don’t blame my cats for this. They’re innocent.”
“You have until tonight to get out,” he bellowed, gesturing wildly at my smoke-stained ceiling. “Eight hours! After that, I’m calling animal control for those beasts and the hazmat team for… whatever hell brew you’ve cooked up in here.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” My voice cracked, the reality of my situation finally sinking in. “You can’t kick me out with no notice!”
“Not my problem. And it’s my damn building; I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Take it to court if you want. Don’t care. But until you get a court date, I want you out of here!” He stepped back, pulling a handkerchief over his nose. “I’ve put up with the stink for the last time. Eight hours, Miss Blackheart. Not a minute more.”
The door slammed in my face. I stood there, clutching the eviction notice, feeling the edges of panic creeping in. Sure, I could take him to court. He’d have to call the police to force me to leave and they wouldn’t make me unless there was a court order. But honestly, I knew it was time to move on. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I’d hoped to save a little more money before then. But maybe this was a sign.