Magical Midlife Challenge – Leveling Up Read Online K.F. Breene

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
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TWENTY-TWO

“Well, now, isn’t this nice,” Mr. Tom said that night as we walked into the communal area of the village—a large stretch of land cleared of growth, the dirt packed down. Three spread-out fires burned in the expanse, each crossed by a spit. A deer and what must’ve been a wild pig were being hand-turned over two of them, and various vegetables and roots were cooking on the third. “Given how the basajaun always gets on with flowers, I didn’t expect this kind of decorum at all.”

I gave him a flat look as we meandered through the various basajaunak, all of them visible to us. We’d clearly earned their trust enough that they didn’t feel the need to use their hiding magic.

The knife of guilt cut through my stomach and twisted, drawing Austin’s attention. He stood beside me, our fingers intertwined, and his arm kept brushing mine. I enjoyed the shivers it gave me, being so close to him. I felt like I was a teenager again, except for this very adult guilt riding me hard.

“You good?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied in a low tone, needing to talk to him about all of this. I hadn’t found a time yet. Or maybe I was just putting it off. We’d agreed on this course of action, after all. Including the basajaun, who was all for it. I just couldn’t shake my unease, or the guilt dripping acid through me every time the warning pulses—happening more frequently now—tore into me.

That teen earlier hadn’t known how to handle Austin. He’d been slow and ineffective. The basandere had told me this afternoon she’d never had any contact with the outside world. Everyone here was sheltered. Talk about setting the young people up for failure.

A few drumbeats sounded from across the clearing to my right, turning into a rhythm that was quickly joined by the delicate whine of string instruments. Five musicians played at the base of an enormous redwood tree. The trunk had to be twenty feet wide. Each instrument was crudely crafted from wood or animal skins. I wasn’t sure how the strings had been made, but the resulting sound was beautiful and wild, fitting the scene perfectly.

“Miss Jessie, Alpha Steele.” Our basajaun strode toward us. He stopped in front of us and surveyed our party. After nodding, he waved us on. “Come this way. I made sure to leave us a section on the side where everyone could see.”

“And what is it we need to see?” Mr. Tom asked as we followed the basajaun.

If the basajaun heard, he made no indication. Instead, he led us to a spit and reached for it. The basajaun turning the handle stopped and waited for our basajaun to grab off a chunk and shove it into his mouth. He moved away and looked at Austin and me, clearly expecting us to follow suit.

“Allow me,” Austin told me, following the basajaun’s example. He didn’t put the strip of meat to his mouth, though. He offered it to me before grabbing one for himself. That done, he moved us away a little so the others could partake.

“If I had known we’d be picking off carcasses like cavemen, I would’ve brought plates and flatware,” Mr. Tom grumbled.

“Just don’t suck on yer fingers and then go back for more,” Niamh told him. “We don’t need yer spit all over the place.”

“Talk about double dipping,” Jasper murmured when it was his turn. “I’m going to need a big hunk of this stuff. Ouch! That’s hot. Don’t they have a knife or something?”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Cyra told him.

“Easy for you to say,” he responded, blowing on his fingers, the meat in his other hand.

“Please do me a favor,” Austin said in a low tone, moving me a little farther away. “Don’t let anyone but me get meat for you. Not even Mr. Tom. Definitely don’t let anyone else feed you. We—shifters—have a similar sort of setup for mating dinners or large family gatherings. A male feeds his mate. If anyone else attempts to do so, it’s seen as a challenge. Logically, I know that’s not why Mr. Tom would get food for you, but my animal would ride me hard, and I might not be able to control it. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. Can you do that for me? Wait for me to get food for you or do it yourself?”

“I mean, sure, I’ll let you rip off pieces of meat from a carcass roasting over the fire. That’s not exactly a hardship. And sure, I’ll let only you do it. Mr. Tom will understand, especially since I don’t want his fingers in everything. But actually feed me? Like a child?”

He stood close, and the heat of his body soaked into my chilled skin. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting his intense gaze.



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