Spellbound (4 page)

But Nick will never know, the evil voice inside her argued. This body that’s pressed against you isn’t real, the feelings the phantom is having aren’t real. You’re still throbbing with need; you ache to be filled by him. It doesn’t matter.

It’s just sex.

No. No, it wasn’t.

And just like that, her evil side lost the argument.

‘I’m sorry,’ Belle said. She pulled away and made herself sit up against the sofa as far from her lover incarnate as she could get.

He frowned. ‘Belle? We don’t have to stop. I mean, we don’t have to take it any further either, if you don’t want. We can just keep kissing.’

‘No, we have to stop.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ He sat up and straightened his T-shirt, then leaned back against the couch by Belle’s side.

‘I was wrong,’ Belle said, shaking her head.

‘You were?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘About what?’

‘About being wrong.’

‘Ah.’ He ran his palms down the front of his jeans before giving her a sidelong look. ‘Belle, don’t take this the wrong way, but half the time I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Me either.’ Belle sighed.

‘Well, I guess that’s okay then.’ His grin was so cute and sweet it almost broke Belle’s heart. One more kiss?

No.

You don’t deserve it.

‘It’s time for you to go,’ Belle said, hearing the weariness in her own voice.

‘Okay.’

Her phantom lover hadn’t listened to her own inner argument though, because he leaned over for one last kiss, his lips mastering hers, stealing her breath.

And when he finished kissing her, he sat back for a moment, his grey eyes meeting hers, and Belle wished with all her heart that this were real.

‘I’ll see you in the morning for our date in St Kilda,’ he said, and Belle couldn’t bring herself to mention his limited lifespan.

Then he was gone, the door closed behind him. Belle knew she shouldn’t have let him leave the apartment. He would be corporeal for a little while longer, but Belle couldn’t bear to have him in her sight. She hadn’t given him any knowledge about the world beyond this floor of the building though, so he’d just hang around outside her door. Luckily she had no neighbours up here, so there was no danger of him accidentally running into someone.

In the morning she’d go out and sweep up the dust.

A wave of melancholy swept over her and she curled herself into a ball on the carpet. The woollen pile itched at her face and bare arms, and the front panel of the sofa was cool at her back. Her apartment still smelled like burned toast, but the essence of Nick lingered over the top. She could taste him in her mouth; feel the heat of him against her. She really wished she’d got his jeans open before she’d had her morality attack – that bulge had been pretty impressive. Touching his arms had been enough to bring her almost to the brink of orgasm; she could only imagine what touching his cock might do.

Oh well. It would all have to remain a fantasy, just like any normal woman with a crush on an unattainable man.

Her tears were hot as they ran down her face.

A loud, insistent banging on the door woke Belle. She’d fallen asleep on the floor, no doubt assisted by wine and despair.

Crawling onto her hands and knees and slowly getting to her feet, Belle groaned at herself. Her dress was so crushed she’d be lucky if it ever ironed flat again. Her face felt lumpy and, sure enough, she could feel the pattern of the carpet pressed into it as she ran her fingertips over her cheek. Her hair —

She patted her head. Her hair didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Hold on!’ she called out. ‘I’m coming.’

The banging paused for a moment, but recommenced immediately after, and Belle scrapped her plan to try to fix herself up before answering the door.

She checked the clock in the kitchen – barely eight a.m. On a Sunday! Whoever it was better have a damn good reason —

Belle’s stomach dropped as she thought about the potential reasons someone could be banging on her door. What if something had gone wrong with her phantom lover? What if he’d escaped somehow? Caused damage? It really had been very irresponsible of her to just leave him out in the corridor until he’d vanished. What if the real Nick had somehow run into his magical doppelganger?

Belle scrabbled to open the door, part relieved and part fearful to find Aunt Gertrude there, rapping on the door with her pink bamboo cane. The woman was wearing a crushed-velvet royal-purple dress, chartreuse-green knit shawl and a red hat, and was bedecked with more items of jewellery than could be counted. Her short stature and round body gave the overall impression of a colourful, glittering beach ball. A beach ball that strode into Belle’s apartment with an imperious air and a penetrating gaze.

‘Why didn’t you use your key?’ Belle asked as she closed the door. ‘You don’t seem to have a problem letting yourself in any other time.’

Gertrude blinked with a falsely innocent look. ‘Well, I didn’t want to interrupt anything. Coffee this morning, please,’ she ordered with a wave of her hand. ‘And then you’d better sit down and tell me what’s been going on.’

‘Huh?’ Belle squinted. She really wasn’t awake enough to deal with this. And after last night —

Oh.

Crap.

‘What happened?’ Belle asked, twisting her fingers together nervously. If her phantom had caused havoc somehow, she’d be responsible. She’d be charged and hauled in to face the Council to explain her actions. Punished, probably. And the kind of punishments a magical magistrate could enforce made human jails look like tropical resorts.

Worse, she’d be forced to admit her perverted little stunt in front of everyone.

‘Shit. What did I do?’ she repeated in the face of Aunt Gertrude’s silence.

‘Coffee,’ the older woman repeated. ‘And mind your language.’

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Belle forced herself to head to the kitchen and put on the kettle, knowing the old lady wouldn’t say anything more until she got what she wanted. While the water boiled, Belle nipped into the bedroom and changed into jeans and a sweater, at the same time ridding herself of the damn uncomfortable lacy underwear, replacing the thong with her usual plain cotton undies and a sigh of relief.

Belle carried a tray into the living room with two coffees, a couple of stale biscuits and a block of Lindt chocolate – she figured the latter might well help her get through the next few minutes. Besides, if she was about to be hauled off to magic prison, it might be her last chance to indulge for a while. For eternity, possibly.

Aunt Gertrude clucked at her as she picked up a mug of coffee and gave Belle a firm frown. Belle reached for the chocolate and shoved a whole row in her mouth to help her cope.

‘I thought I taught you to put your toys away after you finished playing with them?’ Gertrude sipped her coffee and then put it down on an occasional table beside her.

‘What do you mean?’

Gertrude rolled her eyes. ‘I mean
that
.’ She waved a be-ringed hand and in the corner of the room a form began to shimmer into visibility.

‘What?’ Belle stared as what was undeniably a man’s body began to appear. A naked,
aroused
man’s body.

‘Belle, Belle, Belle.’ Gertrude sighed a heavy, disappointed sigh, exactly as she’d done when Belle had gotten herself into trouble doing something stupid at the academy.

‘It can’t be,’ Belle muttered. ‘It only had a short lifespan.’ And besides, she’d put it outside. It must have come back in with Gertrude.

‘Did you use amethyst or purple quartz?’ Gertrude asked.

‘Amethyst, of course. The grimoire said —’ Belle broke off. Now that she thought about it, the grimoire had said purple and she’d assumed . . . ‘Fuck.’

Gertrude’s pencilled-in eyebrows shot up her face. ‘Language!’

Belle covered her face with her hands and sank back into the sofa. Not only had she stuffed up the spell, now her old teacher – and who knew who else – could guess her dirty little plan to make herself a dream lover.

Peeking out behind her fingers, Belle looked over at the shimmery form in the corner. Clearly at the end of its lifespan, it wasn’t fully corporeal, and not at all recognisable as Nick anymore – thankfully that would remain a secret. But its thick, thrusting penis, still visibly throbbing in the air, left no doubt as to its purpose.

It was like having your mother discover your vibrator in your bedside drawer. Only worse.

‘Aunt Gertrude, I will never, ever,
ever
—’ Belle began.

‘Oh, hush.’ Gertrude silenced her. ‘We’ve all done it. I remember back in the sixties I made myself a Sean Connery, just like out of that James Bond movie. Goodness, that was a night.’ The older woman fanned herself and her face flushed slightly as she relived some steamy memories.

It didn’t help Belle’s growing nausea one little bit. She took another fearful look at her Frankenstein creation. ‘What . . . what did he do?’ she asked, completely sure she didn’t want to know the answer.

‘Well, he wasn’t a great kisser, as I recall, but those fingers! Oh, he knew how to work me into a frenzy. I thought I would have a heart attack right there and then, and that was back when —’

‘Aunt Gertrude!’ Belle’s face flamed with embarrassment. ‘I meant, what did
my
phantom do? He must have caused trouble, right? That’s why you’re here?’

‘
Your
phantom? Did he not perform as you wanted? Well, that’s no surprise. What else did you mix up? If you used lavender instead of clary sage, he wouldn’t be as . . . well . . .
firm
as you might like, but given what I can see over there, I don’t think that was a problem.’ Aunt Gertrude fixed a gaze on the phantom’s lower half that was far too interested for Belle’s continued sanity.

‘I used sage,’ Belle said between gritted teeth, determined not to admit to using the supermarket version of the herb. ‘Aunt Gertrude, this is really embarrassing. Mortifyingly embarrassing. Tell me how to get rid of it.’

Gertrude muttered a few words under her breath and then flicked her fingers towards the ghostly figure. It disappeared in an instant.

Belle let out a long breath. At least it was gone. Now she just had to face her punishment. ‘Tell me. When do I have to face the Council?’

‘The Council?’ Gertrude picked up a biscuit and took a bite. ‘Ugh. Stale.’ She waved a hand and a plate of fresh Danish pastries appeared.

What Belle wouldn’t give to be able to do that.

Gertrude picked up a Danish and practically swallowed it whole before washing it down with a big swig of coffee. It was all designed to keep Belle on tenterhooks. Gertrude had an unfailing flair for the dramatic.

‘The Council doesn’t need to be involved,’ she said after her dramatically long pause. ‘Yet,’ she added ominously.

‘Really? Thank the Goddess.’ Belle collapsed back into the couch ‘I really will never do it again. I’ll even tear out the page with the spell and burn it. It was awful anyway, and just made me feel terrible —’

‘It made you feel terrible? You really must have mucked it up somewhere. There’s nothing like a good phantom lover. They’re pretty much guaranteed to make you . . . well, you know.’

Belle was immensely grateful that Gertrude’s plain speaking had its limits. ‘
It
didn’t make me feel terrible, it made me feel wonderful,’ Belle said miserably. ‘
I
made me feel terrible. I just couldn’t live with what I was doing.’ No need to tell her aunt about the Nick thing. On the inside, Belle curled up into a ball of shame. ‘It was so . . .
pathetic
.’

Gertrude waved Belle’s self-pity away with a Danish-filled hand. ‘Well, you’re a big girl now, so that’s none of my concern. However, we really must do something about your psychic abilities.’

‘My what?’

‘Always said they’d grow in for you.’

‘Huh?’ Of all the failures Belle had had at magic academy, psychic class had been particularly dismal. Mostly because everyone else in the class just
got it
and Belle had no idea what
it
even was.

‘Warned your parents, I did.’

‘Aunt Gertrude, I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not psychic, I never have been. I’ve never been able to read people’s minds, and I still can’t.’

Gertrude gave Belle another of her withering looks. A chiming sound went off and whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted by an urgent search through her patchwork purse. She pulled out her iPhone and her fingers whizzed across the screen. ‘I have to go, I have an appointment at the shop.’ Returning the phone to her purse, she rummaged around again before pulling out a round, green crystal about the size of a golf ball. ‘Here.’ She threw it to Belle who caught it with a surprised fumble.

‘What is it?’

Aunt Gertrude’s phone made another insistent beep and the older woman got up and headed for the door with sprightly steps that belied the need for the cane she was carrying. ‘Just keep it with you for now. It’ll at least stop the shenanigans that went on in this neighbourhood last night. We’ll talk more later.’

Baffled, Belle walked with her aunt to the door. ‘Try to control yourself, dearie,’ Gertrude said as she headed out into the hallway. ‘And for the Goddess’s sake, cheer up.’

It was still early, so Belle ran herself a bath, made a pot of tea and sank gratefully into the bubbles. She hoped that a long soak might take away the dirty feeling she still harboured from using Nick’s image like that. The photo had to be returned somehow, but Belle was thinking of asking Aunt Gertrude if she could magic it back into Nick’s apartment. As humiliating as it was to ask her old teacher to help her with a very basic trick, it was better than breaking and entering again. God forbid he caught her. She’d never be able to face him.

Who was she kidding? She’d never be able to face him again, anyway. Even if he never found out what she’d done, her embarrassment would be crippling.

At least using the stairs would be good for her thighs.

Belle soaked until she went pruney and then dried off and dressed. She had no idea what to do with the rest of her day. Sunday stretched out in front of her in empty pointlessness, just like it had for a long time now.

Phantom Nick had suggested a breakfast date at a cafe in St Kilda. Sunshine streamed in through her windows; it was one of those perfect autumn days that Melbourne sometimes offered – bright sun, cool breeze, azure blue sky. The beach would be pretty and St Kilda would be bustling with tourists and artists and families out enjoying the day.

Pity that it could never happen with the real Nick.

It would be lovely, but he’d never looked at her that way.

No man did anymore. Not since Tony. Before that, things had been, well,
normal
. She wasn’t a nymphomaniac, hadn’t slept with hundreds of guys, but life had been nice. Social. She’d gone on dates like her friends. Had a couple of almost-serious relationships. Then she’d met Tony. Thought he was The One.

She’d tried her best to change for him, to meld herself into the woman he seemed to think she should be. But no matter what she did, it was never good enough. She never measured up. Then, after two years of turning herself inside out in an effort to be
better
, Tony found someone else and, after taking the time to carefully remove every item in the house that belonged to him, he walked out and never contacted her again.

And since? Well, there just hadn’t been anyone. Like,
anyone
. No guys had asked her out, no one had bought her a drink. It was like she didn’t exist. She was damaged goods, and no one was interested in less than perfect.

Certainly Nick wouldn’t be.

Belle wandered around her apartment. A glint of something shiny caught her eye and she picked up the round crystal Aunt Gertrude had given her. Smooth and cold and heavy, it was somehow soothing. Belle rubbed it as she walked over to the windows and stared out at the city, at the buildings and people, and wondered how they managed it. How did ordinary people find each other and build a life together? Why had she not been able to do it?

Belle put the crystal down on the sill and turned away from the window, walking back into her bedroom. As she did, footsteps sounded in the hallway, but they died away before making it anywhere close to Belle’s door.

Wishful thinking.

Belle crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Today was a day best ignored.

Nick woke up to the sound of water running through plumbing. It was a quirk of the old building and he’d never given it much thought, but this morning he wondered: was Belle in the shower right now? The next thing that flashed through his mind was a replay of the night before. His morning woody filled out further with the images, and he absently began to stroke himself.

Delicious. Belle tasted like the best kind of sweets, and he couldn’t wait to have more.

His dreams had been strange and unsettled, but he pushed them away, thinking about the date they’d planned for the day. He was going to take her to St Kilda, but afterwards he’d bring her back to his place – or they could go to hers, he didn’t care which – and he’d finish what they’d begun last night.