Captivation: Rivers Sisters, #1

By Crystal Inman

Spencer Drake needs a model, and Colleen Rivers applies for the job. She's near the end of her career, but this campaign, for Captivation perfume, calls to her. Except Spencer is no ordinary man. And Colleen is no ordinary woman. They're both hiding who they are, but Colleen stands to lose more than a job if the truth spills out. Colleen is part of a family of witches that has been hidden from the world for centuries. Spencer's family tracks and records magic. The consequences are severe for unregistered beings. Her family's biggest secret becomes his only mission. A man used to getting what he wants rarely fights fair. But a woman with her world on the line never will.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crystal Inman
• Release date: Sep 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988322351

Crystal Inman

Crystal Inman is an eccentric and eclectic author of more than two dozen novels. She delights in writing Romance, Fantasy, and LGBTQIA+. Her first Erotic Romance, What He Wants, was the number one bestseller for her publisher three years in a row. Crystal read romance, Fairy-Tales, and Stephen King in her early adolescence. She is their unruly love child. You can keep track of Crystal on her website at www.inmanbooks.com.

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All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

COLLEEN LIT THE PYRE with a flick of her wrist and a narrowing of her deep green eyes.  The flame caught quickly and shot three feet into the dying light before settling with a sigh and crackle onto the firewood placed in the stone circle.

The night air had a slight chill to it, and she shivered slightly and moved a bit closer to the heat.  Colleen didn’t have the gift of sight but hoped to at least find some direction from her offering.  She drew the small dagger against her palm, pressing down slightly, to open her skin.  The thin line opened and blossomed a small streak of blood that welled and dripped slowly down her wrist.

Colleen moved quickly and watched as seven drops left her hand and sizzled on the roaring pyre.  After the drops fell, she grabbed a cloth from her right pocket and wrapped it around her hand. 

Show me, she demanded.  The flames flickered in resistance once before they parted all the way down to the wood.

A black vortex, the size of a bowling ball, spun quicker and quicker until it seemed to suck the very color from its surroundings.  The green from the nearest trees paled while the flames surrounding the coil bleached completely out.

Colleen moved one step closer and bent down a bit to study the onyx orb.  Another drop of blood fell from her hand, and the spiral quit spinning completely.  She barely caught her breath when two slanted eyes glowed neon green in the darkness.  Colleen frowned and cocked her head to the side, studying them.

MINE! a voice roared from the pit.

She fell backwards and bit back a scream as the globe collapsed itself and disappeared with a small pop.

Colleen sat there for another few minutes while she healed her hand and studied the pyre in front of her.  The smoke smoldered and drifted lightly on the breeze.  It had been quite some time since she had tried a blood offering to find a direction for life.

There had been no swirling circle of darkness.  No neon green eyes.  And certainly no creepy damn voice which seemed to think it owned her.

She brushed herself off and stood shakily.  She would need to pull herself together for her weekly family dinner.  If any of them caught one whiff of that magic, she would never hear the end of it. 

Mother frowned on using blood in spells, and she was certain that any one of her three sisters would never let her live it down.  Colleen, as the oldest, tried to set a good example.

She could hardly be blamed if she felt out of sorts and tried to find a way to remedy that.  What good was being a witch if you couldn’t ask for some help every once in a great while?

Colleen trudged back up the stairs into her home and sighed.  She would need a little more magic to remove the smoke smells from her body and hair. 

Maybe it was simply time to retire.  As it was, modeling at her age was almost unheard of for the big campaigns.  Each year they started younger and younger.  She mentally shrugged.  It wouldn’t hurt her feelings to never model again.  She usually enjoyed it.  And that’s the reason she did it.  Not because her mother vicariously lived her life through her daughter.  Not because she had self-esteem issues.  And certainly not because she needed the money.  She didn’t.  But what did she need?  That was the million-dollar question.

She would go and see her family.  Let their lives wash over her.  And try to find herself again amongst familial chatter. 

She should have known what she was in for when she noticed Megan arrived first.  Colleen blew out a breath and eased her black jeep alongside her sister’s fire engine red Focus.  Mom’s driveway would soon fill up with her daughters’ various vehicles.

Conversing with Megan was like trying to have a conversation with an easily distracted three-year old.  It was frustrating, and you often sought out large quantities of alcohol afterwards.

Add to that the absolute absence of any type of mental filter, and it was a small wonder Colleen didn’t put her vehicle in reverse and call it a day.

But as inappropriate as Megan was, her heart was always in the right place even when her mouth wasn’t.  Small comfort.

Colleen stepped from her jeep and pulled her thin black jacket a little closer to her body.  Even in August, she was a bit cold.  The black slacks and crème silk shirt didn’t exactly keep her body temperature up.  At least her feet weren’t freezing in her favorite black leather boots.  She glanced over at her jeep.  Bit of a theme here. 

Her boots crunched on the gravel leading up the driveway to the house she and her sisters grew up in.  Dusk settled slowly

Megan would always arrive first or last.  That’s how she was made.  To be on time was unacceptable.  To be early or to be late suited her.  The unexpected her absolute only moral compass.  Colleen arrived early but not nearly as early as her sister.  Paisley would arrive right on time.  Heather would arrive late, be distracted the whole time, and generally only keep her seat warm.

Colleen’s boots crunched on the large rocks that made up her mother’s driveway.  Several trees canopied the small lot where the girls always parked when they visited.  The family home stood proud and unwavering to her left. 

The red brick and pitched roofs that always reminded her of a cross between a castle and a cottage.  There were green shrubs on each corner and a long trail of wildflowers in various bold shades that wound the perimeter of the house.

Her mother’s massive herb garden spread out in the back just beyond the wooden deck attached to the back and in-between the large rock walls on both the right and the left.  Colleen smiled as she approached the front door.  An old-fashioned street lamp lit the alcoves entrance and lit the path with soft yellow light.  An antique brass knocker shaped like a Celtic knot graced the large oak door.  There was no need to use it.  The house welcomed her by soundlessly opening the door as soon as she stepped near the doorway.  She smiled and patted the door lovingly.  Thank you, she murmured and stepped inside.

The aroma of her mother’s cooking wrapped around her, and Colleen smiled.  Grace could easily have been a gourmet chef at any restaurant she cared to pursue.  Any time the girls came together for a meal, it was a three-course affair with good food and plenty of teasing and laughter.

She inhaled deeply.  Savory pork loin.  Her mouth watered.  The homey fragrance of apples wafted to her.  Colleen’s stomach rumbled.  She followed her nose into the kitchen.

It was, quite simply, her favorite room in the entire house.  Growing up, the girls would always converge in the morning before school and then after school to catch up on each other’s day.  Grace would serve afterschool snacks and listen patiently to each daughter and her stories.

Track lights ran the enormous length of the room.  They gleamed down on the polished wood island in the middle of the large space.  The cabinets were painted a soft vanilla, and the countertops were a lovely honey onyx shot through with gold and crimson veins.  The counters ran the entire length of the kitchen on the south wall.  The north wall was a series of bay windows that opened out onto the desk and backyard.

Right now, Megan sat at the island with a peeler in one hand and several cucumbers on a platter in front of her.  Grace took pork chops out of the oven to check them then slid them back.  She turned and smiled at her oldest daughter.

Appetizers or dessert?

Colleen shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the nearest coat rack.  She rolled up her sleeves.  Appetizers.

Grace opened the large state-of-the art refrigerator and pulled out a small platter with lobster on it.  Shred it and put it in the small cup to your left.  She waved her hand, and a small glass container appeared.

Megan blew out a breath and put a peeled cucumber on the platter.  Tell me something, Mother.

Grace smiled.  Yes, dear?

If you’re going to magic in some dishes, why don’t you just whip up some naked cucumbers and shredded lobster?

It was a common gripe growing up.  Whenever one of the girls felt as though housework infringed on her time, she brought it up.  Grace would just smile and tell the girls to finish the task.  From working the herb garden to dusting the large house.

And rob you from the experience of fixing your own food?  Grace shook her head.  Don’t think so.

Megan scowled at the peeler.  Rob me, Mother.  Rob me.

Colleen snickered, and Megan glared at her.  Shred your lobster, sister.

I’m shredding.  She glanced at Megan.  You know that’s what happens when you show up early.

Bite me, Megan growled.

Grace moved over to the island.  What’s wrong, Megan?

Work was highly unpleasant.  She peeled the cucumber with a vengeance usually reserved for frustrating men she temporarily dated.

Colleen racked her brain for Megan’s latest venture.  Her sister had been a substitute teacher, clerical assistant, belly dancer, hairdresser, landscape assistant, housekeeper, and several other occupations.  She came up with nothing.

The animals were ill-behaved?  Grace patted Megan’s hand sympathetically.

Ah, vet assistant.

Megan put down the peeler.  The animals were angels.  From the Rottweiler to the feral cats. 

Grace’s green eyes started glowing about half a second before Colleen put it together.  It was a two-legged animal that caused Megan’s mood.  Although Grace’s eyes glowed, she kept her voice calm.  Would you like an elixir to fix that?

Megan smiled for the first time since she arrived and leaned forward to kiss her mother.  No, Mother, but thank you.  She sighed.  I know exactly what to do with Dr. Lance.

Colleen motioned her on.  Well?

Seems that Dr. Lance enjoys ladies’ lingerie.  She paused.  And not just on women.

Grace chuckled, and she shook her head.  Leave it to Megan to find that out and use it as leverage.

So, you’re going to stay there?  Colleen slid the shredded lobster in the glass bowl.

No.

Grace stifled her sigh, but Colleen could practically feel it.  Megan had every job under the sun it seemed like but didn’t keep any of them longer than a week.  She was an outstanding employee but somehow didn’t last very long in any occupation.

Megan shrugged.  I know I have a poor track record, Mother.  She put the finished cucumber on the tray and propped her head on her hands.  I’m just still searching.

You’ll know when you find it, darling.  Grace leaned forward, brushed Megan’s red curls to the side, and kissed her forehead.  Now finish peeling my cucumbers.

What are we having? 

Grace pulled her ebony hair, the color of the week, back and smiled.  Cucumber cups with lobster and shrimp.  Pork chops with Dijon mustard and herbs. Baked potatoes with cheese and breadcrumbs.  A nice spinach salad and mini apple pies for dessert.

She turned her back to her daughters.  Megan glanced at Colleen and then back at the cucumbers.  She raised her hand when Grace’s voice stopped her.

You even think about it, and you’re having hot dogs for dinner, Megan.

Megan wrinkled her nose and lowered her hand.  She started peeling cucumbers again. 

Colleen hid her laugh behind her hand.  Paisley strolled in five minutes later and hung her jacket on the coat rack and rolled up the sleeves on white button-up shirt.  She already had her long blond hair pulled back away from her face in a tight chignon.  Her heels joined her coat by the rack. 

Salad.  Grace waited until Paisley sat down and then put spinach leaves in front of her.  Colleen’s youngest sister efficiently tore the salad and mixed the dressing.

Megan was peeling her last cucumber.  She glanced at Colleen and Paisley.  You are both mutants.  I swear.

Paisley arched her eyebrow.  It’s a cucumber, Megan.  Not Rocket Science.  She made to grab the cucumber from Megan’s hand, and Megan scowled.  Not so fast, Blondie.

Grace glanced at the clock and smiled as she heard the front door open.  Heather’s here now.

Megan frowned.  You gave me the cucumbers on purpose, didn’t you?  She paused.  You knew the brain child would be late.

Colleen and Grace looked at her.

Fine.  She threw up her hands.  I don’t know why we wait on her, anyway.  It’s not like she’s mentally joining us.  Megan jumped up from the chair and walked out of the kitchen.  I’m going to wash my hands.

Paisley frowned as she watched Megan stomp off.  She okay?

Once she straightens out her lecherous boss, she’ll be fine.

Grace cocked her head to the side.  Colleen shook hers.  Don’t even think about it, Mom.  She’ll know.

That was something each daughter could always count on.  Their Mom would always be behind them no matter what.  When they were younger, she was always in front of them.  Removing the bad things and making their world safe.

Grace Rivers was an amazing beautiful woman with her own business and who basically raised her four daughters by herself.  Her husband left when Paisley was just four years old.  One minute he was there.  The next one he was simply gone.

That was a hard time for their mom.  She refused to talk about it beyond the fact that Herman Rivers needed to leave and would not be returning anytime soon.  She refused to say more than that.

Grace was the glue that kept them all together.  She stood around five nine with curves that caused more than one man to try and capture her heart.  That lasted all of two minutes.  Grace didn’t want any of the suitors that pursued her.  She was both Mother and Father to the four extremely dissimilar daughters. 

All the women shared the same forest green eyes, and Grace changed her hair color every week to match each of her daughters.  None of the girls knew her true hair color.  This week was Colleen.  Next week would be Heather.  But the classic beauty she possessed was hers and hers alone.  They could easily be mistaken for five sisters.

Grace smoothly grabbed the cucumbers and cut them into intricate shapes while Paisley stuffed them with an herbed cream cheese and either lobster or shrimp.  Colleen snagged one the second it hit the tray and popped it in her mouth.  She closed her eyes in bliss.

Oh, that’s heavenly.

Heather walked in a minute later.  She stopped at the island and sat down.  Colleen could easily see she was on autopilot.  Grace reached over, without missing a beat, and snagged the pencil Heather had behind each ear and put it in the cup at the end of the counter.

White dwarf star, Heather mumbled. 

Megan slid next to her and smiled.  Rainbow elf moon.

Heather blinked and then turned to look at her younger sister.  No such thing.

Says you.  Megan popped a cucumber in her mouth.  Do you ever arrive anywhere on time?

Heather adjusted her glasses.  Rarely.  Around two-point three percent of the time.

Megan sighed.  You’re all mutants.  She turned to Grace.  Mom.  They’re adopted, right?  The lot of them?

Grace leaned forward on her side of the kitchen island and looked from Colleen to Heather to Paisley to Megan.  The same set of forest green eyes looked back at her.  The same stubborn mouths.  Not a chance.  She grinned and turned around.  Your turn to set the table, Heather.

Paisley nudged Heather who had gone back to muttering about white dwarf stars.  The older sister took the plates and walked into the living room.

Colleen ate another cucumber and waited for her mother to hand her the napkins.  She took the beautiful blue and silver cloth that matched the plates and followed Heather into the living room.

It was as she expected.  Heather stood by the table with the plates stacked in front of her.  Her head tilted to the side deciphering God knows what.  What did astrophysicists think about, anyway?  Besides stars and dwarfs?

Colleen sat her down, kissed the top of her brilliant head, and set the table.  A minute later, Paisley brought in the rest of the cucumbers with Megan close on her heels.  Grace waved her hand, and the drinks appeared in front of each guest.  She sat at the head of the table with Colleen and Heather to her right.  Megan and Paisley to her left.  The other chair at the head of the table always sat empty in honor of their missing father.

They said the blessing in unison and started the meal.

It was fantastic, of course.  Colleen listened to her siblings give each other hell.  She glanced at Heather.  Or at least most of them.  Her thoughts were still centered on a potential new campaign.

You’re too quiet.  Megan stabbed her fork in Colleen’s direction.  What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?  She popped a bite of pork chop in her mouth and waited.

The entire table fell silent.

Colleen shrugged easily.  Perhaps another campaign.

Really?  Paisley smiled.  That’s fantastic.

What are you pimping?  Megan took a drink of her soda and waited.

Grace shot her a look.

What?

Colleen put her fork down.  I’m contemplating an offer from Draco Industries who has decided to branch out to perfume.  It’s the Captivation campaign.  One of their representatives called Mary.  Mary was code for Colleen’s non-existent manager.

Wow.  Paisley studied Colleen.  I didn’t realize they had any interests in that.  She paused.  They’re a fantastic company.  We receive donations of both cash and assets on a quarterly basis.  Good people.

That was saying something.  Paisley ran a non-profit organization that helped the underprivileged and forgotten.  She made it her business to assist and buffer those in need. 

I’m not sure I want to model again right now.

C’mon, Colleen.  Megan rolled her eyes and snorted.  You know as soon as your face graces the perfume, every man who even glimpses it, will buy it.  You’re a visual orgasm.

Colleen reached over and pulled one of Megan’s red curls.  You’re a brat.  You know that?

I’m aware, Megan conceded with a smirk.  But I’m also right.

Heather pulled her ponytail tighter.

Paisley glanced over.  So that’s why you always look surprised.

Megan gasped and clutched her chest.  Paisley made a joke.  She glanced at their mom.  Hey, Mom!

Grace turned with a smile.  Yes, my darling daughter?

Is the world coming to an end?  Megan hitched her thumb toward Paisley.  Blondie cracked a joke.

Grace shook her head.  Your sister has a wonderful sense of humor, Megan.

Yeah, right, she mumbled.

Paisley glared at her.

Heather had already tuned everyone out again and focused on solving whatever problems her massive brain dissected and studied.

Colleen picked at her fancy potatoes.

Grace frowned and moved forward to put her arms around her oldest daughter.  What troubles you?

Colleen shrugged.  She brushed her sable hair back from her face.  I’m tired, she admitted.

I can make a potion that will reenergize you.  Grace tilted Colleen’s head