Wicked *itch: Magic and Mayhem Universe Read online

  Wicked *itch: Magic and Mayhem Universe

  Teresa Gabelman

  Published by Teresa Gabelman, 2018.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Gabelman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Robyn Peterman to use the copyrighted characters and/or worlds created by Robyn Peterman in this book. All copyright protection to the original characters and/or worlds of the Magic and Mayhem series is retained by Robyn Peterman.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Wicked *itch: Magic and Mayhem Universe

  Foreward

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Acknowledgements

  Robyn, thank you so much for allowing me and my characters to come into your wonderful universe. I’ve had a blast with this story and really enjoyed my time in Assjacket! You ROCK!

  To all the readers, thank you so much. Without you, there is no story. Hugs!

  Foreward

  Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!

  I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.

  What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?

  Well, let me explain...

  It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you...the results are hilarious!

  So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!

  For all the stories, go to https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com/. Grab your copy today!

  Chapter 1

  “I want a 1950s pin-up girl riding a rubber chicken,” the customer standing at Wicked Tat’s waiting-room counter said proudly.

  Wicked really tried not to sigh, but it slipped out. At least once a week someone came in with a request that made her cringe and yeah, this guy was the start of her week. “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Did you lose a bet?”

  The man laughed but noticed quickly she was serious and frowned. “Ah, no,” he replied, looking uncomfortable and maybe a little angry. “I saw it on Master Ink and thought it was cool.”

  And to think she used to like that show. “And where do you want this cool rubber-chicken-riding pin-up girl?” Ribs. He was going to say ribs.

  “My right ribs.” His answer had her sighing again.

  “Ding! Ding! Ding! What does she win, Johnny?” The sarcastic comment came from the corner of the room where her cat, Bruce, lounged, licking his paw. At least it wasn’t his nuts, which he gleefully did just to disgust her.

  Ignoring Bruce, her familiar—yeah, she was a witch and was stuck with a rock ‘n’ roll loving, nut-licking, sarcastic, could-read-her-mind and always-had-something-to-say familiar. Yay, her!—she sighed again and then nodded toward the chairs. “Take a seat and let me see what I can draw up. Once you agree, we’ll talk price.”

  “Hey, I’m walking out of here with a tat from Wicked, so price is not an issue.” He puffed out his chest as he looked her up and down. After giving her an awkward wink, he then turned, strutting toward the chairs.

  Thank God he turned; her automatic eye-roll went into full action, and she couldn’t have stopped it if her life depended on it. Locking up her cash drawer, she headed toward the back.

  “Ah, is that your cat?” Chicken dude called out.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Bruce going to town on his sack.

  “Isn’t that against code or something to have a nasty animal in here?” Chicken dude sat as far away from Bruce as he could.

  Oh, shit! She shot Bruce a warning glare, but of course, he didn’t see her because his little furry face was buried in his nut sack. That was until his head snapped up to hiss at the man.

  “I think a penis on his forehead would be a much better tattoo. Don’t you think, Wicked?” Bruce gave his nuts one last lick before standing. He prowled over by the guy with a hissy purr, lifted his tail and, by the look on the man’s face, let a horrendous fart before strolling away to follow Wicked. “And I would do that, but you’d only undo it so it would be a waste of my time.”

  Wicked didn’t even respond, because it was true. She walked into her studio room where she did all her artwork and hopped up on the stool at her art table. Grabbing some transfer paper, she began to work on the hideous tattoo. The pin-up wasn’t the issue. The rubber chicken was.

  “You know, all you have to do is twitch your nose, and the rubber chicken could be toast.” Bruce used his paw to hit the button on the radio. AC/DC rocked throughout the room.

  “I could do the same to you,” Wicked reminded him, but they both knew that wouldn’t happen, as tempting as it was.

  Tuning everything out, Wicked began her artwork. Her mind wandered as her hand began to work. As much as she hated to admit it, Bruce was right. She could easily twirl or snap her fingers, or twitch her nose, and the damn rubber chicken would be forgotten by the mortal in her waiting room. She could also do the same on this piece of paper instead of drawing, but she loved working on her art. She loved tattooing and wanted to do all of this without the use of her magic. So far she had, except for a few little mishaps with her tattoo machine, which she called Lenny. Her magic was a great eraser.

  Taking a break from drawing, she looked up, letting her eyes roam over what she had worked hard to achieve without magic. Nothing involving her tattoo shop involved her magic. Absolutely nothing. She paid rent to a hot sexy Shifter who she would love to tat one day. Her clothes, however, were something totally different. She had an expensive taste in clothes, which included leather, real leather, plus her taste was eclectic. Wanting different styles to suit whatever mood hit her, she readily used her magic to satisfy her differing clothing needs. Yes, her wardrobe came literally at the snap of her fingers, wiggle of her nose or a twirl of her finger.

  Looking down at herself, she smiled at her leather skirt, knee-high boots, and white off-the-shoulder halter. Her current fashion sense was seventies free-love mixed with today’s trendy style. Her eyes landed on Bruce, who was headbanging along with the Metallica song that was now playing. Rolling her eyes, she picked up a rubber band and put her hair up before finishing the artwork.

  “Rubber chicken guy is getting restless.” Bruce nosed out the door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send him out with a stubby penis on his forehead? It would be epic.”

  “I’m sure it would, but n
o.” Wicked put the finishing touches on the design and stood. Walking to the counter, the customer stood and met her there. She laid the transfer paper down and waited for his reaction. This was what always made her nervous. She cared what people thought of her work, because it was the only constant in her life.

  “Damn, you’re good,” Chicken dude said, staring at the sexy pin-up girl riding a rubber chicken, thanks to Master Ink. “Can’t believe you’re as good as they say. I mean, look at you.”

  Wicked’s eyes narrowed as she looked up from the drawing to see rubber chicken man staring at her boobs.

  “Penis! Penis! Penis!” Bruce chanted as he lounged in the corner of her office, hearing every word exchanged.

  “Do you really want to piss off the woman who will be tattooing you?” Her voice was low and barely controlled. She needed rent money, but not that bad. She looked at his forehead contemplating Bruce’s tattoo suggestion. “My looks have nothing at all to do with my talent, so I suggest you stop ogling my tits and lay down five hundred or walk out the door.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth closed. He did lay down five hundred, signed the wavier form she laid out, then followed her to the chair, taking off his shirt.

  Wicked sat on her stool and organized her inks, totally ignoring the man’s flexing. She then prepped the area on the ribs to be tattooed before laying down the tracing paper. Once the image was transferred onto the skin, she had him stand to check the layout herself and then had him look in the mirror to approve. With a brief nod, he went back to the lounge chair and got into position.

  “You do know the ribs hurt,” Wicked warned, dabbing the needle in the first color she was to use.

  He nodded again as if afraid to say anything at all. Wicked glanced at Bruce, wondering if he’d put some kind of spell on the guy to keep him quiet, but Bruce just gave his normal cat shrug. Yes, Bruce the cat shrugged.

  “Here we go,” Wicked said, as the sound of Lenny filled the room. She loved the sound; it took her to her happy place as did the first dot of ink that penetrated the skin.

  Bruce knew the routine and kicked up the music. The mixture of machine and music put Wicked at ease and let her mind wander, which admittedly wasn’t always a good thing.

  Her shop was located just outside of Assjacket, West Virginia. Yes, Assjacket. Newly named by the new Shifter Whisper, Zelda, who Wicked had yet to meet. A witch was the only being able to step into the Shifter Whisper position. The Shifters who frequented her shop were full of gossip. As a result, she couldn’t wait to meet Zelda. Wicked had known Zelda’s Aunt Hildy, the previous Shifter Whisper, and was saddened by her death, as were all the Shifters. Wicked moved around a lot, never comfortable in one place for a long period of time, though she never went outside of West Virginia.

  Wicked’s decision to move just on the border of Assjacket was because mortals who came into town never stayed. Assjacket was a Shifter town where mortals were not really welcome. That put a big strain on her business, so she had made the decision to relocate to a place where mortals would stay for more than five minutes, and Shifters could also frequent her shop. It had worked, and her business was great. She was content, except for her landlord.

  The man flinched as she hit a sensitive spot, making her line of ink wonky. Lifting the needle from his skin, she twitched her nose, erasing the mistake. “Do you need a break?” Wicked asked, noting he was sweating and moving quite a bit. “We still have a way to go.”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, his eyes closed tightly.

  “He’s about ready to soil himself,” Bruce said with a snicker between grooming one of his paws. “I’d suggest you give him a break, so we don’t have a mess. Why these big macho guys pick rib tattoos is beyond me. And FYI, you have a big Shifter getting ready to walk in the door. Hope you have your rent.”

  Chapter 2

  Wicked glanced up from her work to see Thorne McAllister, her black panther Shifter landlord. His presence made her shiver, and he wasn’t even inside yet. He had parked across the street. As he made his way toward her shop, his tall, broad frame moved with sleek, stalking precision, and she suddenly felt like his prey. She glanced down to see she wasn’t even wiping the area she had tattooed, too focused on the hotness of the man heading her way. Rolling her eyes, she wiped the mixture of ink and blood away from the tattoo she was working on.

  The door opened, but she refused to look up. She needed to get her shit together, look uninterested, and well... hell, get her magic under control. A glittery spark left her fingertips, indicating she was very interested in the man walking through her door, smelling like the outdoors. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the aroma, but it was a wild woodsy kind of smell. She rolled her eyes again as she swiped harder than she meant to.

  “Hey!” The man jerked. “That’s a little tender.”

  “Sorry.” Wicked bit her lip, embarrassed that the newcomer could make her forget how badass she was supposed to be, and how uncaring. She made damn sure she shot that out to the universe and anyone who came near her space. “But you did pick the ribs, not me,” she added in her uncaring voice.

  Hearing Thorne chuckle, she glanced up. “Can I help you?”

  His eyes flared as they roamed to her lips, then back to her hazel eyes. “Porky said he came by for the rent and you refused to pay.”

  “And Porky would be correct.” Wicked turned to add more ink to her machine, clicked it on and began to work, totally dismissing Thorne. Porky worked for Thorne whenever Thorne was out of town, but Wicked didn’t like working with Porky. He was a rude asshole who made her skin crawl with his beady-eyed leers.

  “I’m here to collect.” His voice was closer and sounded sexier, dammit, and damn him.

  “Well, have a seat. I’ll be done soon.” She didn’t stop her machine, didn’t even look up; she just kept on working.

  To her dismay, Thorne didn’t have a seat. No, he walked right over and stood directly in front of her on the other side of the man getting tattooed. If she glanced up a tiny bit, her eyes would be level with his very impressive crotch. Do not look up, she told herself repeatedly.

  “You’re really good,” Thorne observed from his viewing position. “Damn good. Seriously, to make a pin-up girl riding a rubber chicken look sexy as hell, you’d have to be good.”

  She didn’t want to grin at his compliment, didn’t want to bathe in his praise, but dammit, she did, and it pissed her off. She didn’t have time to mess around with a man like him. He was a Shifter with attitude, and a freaking black panther. What the hell was he even doing in West Virginia? There were no panthers here. She really wanted to know all about him, and that scared her to death. The longest relationship she’d ever had was with her familiar, Bruce, and that was depressing. Men just didn’t get her, and she definitely didn’t get them. Hell, what was she thinking? No one ever got her, but then again, she never really gave anyone a chance. Rejection had been fluent in her life, so she did her best to veer away from all situations that could end up with rejection. A sad but true fact about her life.

  “Yeah, all the guys said she was the best,” Chicken dude, who Wicked had no clue what his real name was and hadn’t even looked on his waiver to see, said through clenched teeth. “Not gentle, but the best, and to be tattooed by her, heck, I’ll take the pain.” He glanced back at her with a wink.

  Wicked cocked her eyebrow in warning, reminding the guy of her threat as she revved Lenny up a notch, pointing it at him. He remembered real quick as he laid his head back down and shut up. She could have sworn she heard a growl, but when she glanced up at Thorne, he was simply frowning at the man.

  “You almost finished?” Thorne asked, his eyes lifting to meet hers.

  “Almost,” she replied, then began to work again. She knew she should just get up and grab the envelope with the rent so he would be on his way, but she didn’t and silently cursed herself for wanting him to stay. It was odd. Wicked didn’t like anyone hangin
g around when she tattooed—other than Bruce, but Bruce was usually busy licking his balls or jamming to his music.

  She felt the heat from Thorne’s stare. It made her edgy to the point she was making mistakes. With a sigh, she wiggled her nose, and the tattoo was finished. She hated using her magic in that way and rarely did, but with Thorne practically breathing down her neck, she had no choice. She would not let anyone leave her shop with a bad tattoo.

  Putting her machine down, she wiped the area clean and sat back, pleased with her work. It was the one thing she took pride in. Pushing away from the chair, she stood.

  “There’s a mirror over there,” she told the guy as he sat up.

  “That’s it?” he said, amazed. “You’re done.”

  She nodded, then glanced at Thorne, who gave her a half grin, knowing she had used her magic to finish the tat.

  Chicken dude stood and walked over to the mirror, looking at his artwork. “Holy shit!” He turned this way and that. “Seriously, holy shit! It’s amazing.”

  Wicked busied herself cleaning up, too on edge to be pleased with the praise. Thorne’s presence was making her a nervous wreck. After he was finished admiring himself and his tattoo in the mirror, Wicked made sure the area was cleaned before applying ointment and then the plastic wrap. Her breast touched the man’s back, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. Wicked pulled away quickly, embarrassed, but she needed to make sure she had covered the area completely.

  “Make sure you take this off after an hour. Don’t leave it on longer than that.” She grabbed a sheet of paper and handed it to him. “Follow these instructions without fail.”

  He looked down at the paper with a nod before grabbing his shirt. “There’s something missing.”

  Wicked was doing her best to ignore Thorne, who watched her every move, so the man’s statement threw her. “What?” She frowned, looking at the paper.