For Spell’s Sake

By Elizabeth Dunlap

Robin has been in love with the three men in her life since they first met, but she's certain they don't feel the same way. In a desperate attempt to heal her broken heart, she leaves them behind, at the same time her magic starts to break. The magic inside her is poisoned, corrupted, and it's slowly removing her ability to walk on her own without excruciating pain.
A hailstorm strands Dakota, Arys, and Maddock at Robin's house, revealing more secrets than she wished to share, including the one hiding in her heart.
Was she wrong about them? Do they love her as much as she loves them?
When their past comes knocking at the door, the man who poisoned her magic is back for blood, and she'll need the love of her mates to survive his wrath.

Disclaimer: This story is a novella with insta-love. If you want a long book with more plot, it's not this one. If you want an intense short read with high heat, please keep reading.

For Spell's Sake is a medium burn reverse harem paranormal romance. This short story has an 18+ warning and is intended for mature audiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Dunlap
• Release date: Apr 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224509737

Elizabeth Dunlap

Elizabeth Dunlap is the author of several fantasy books, including the Born Vampire series. She's never wanted to be anything else in her life, except maybe a vampire. She lives in Texas with her boyfriend, their daughter, and a very sleepy chihuahua named Deyna.

Book preview

Chapter One

I left my wheelchair in the car.

I shouldn’t have done it, I knew better, but I thought maybe today I’d be able to not need it. My legs weren’t hurting much, I felt stronger. I thought I could pop into the store and grab the small amount of groceries I needed and get back home before my joints hurt too much to walk.

Alas, it was not to be.

A magical surge went through me as I stood in the cereal aisle, and my legs started to give out. I limped over to the frozen section, hoping I could get to the checkout fast enough, but it was no use. It hurt too much to keep walking. If I grit my teeth and kept going, I’d avoid the humans noticing me struggling to move.

Push. Keep going. It was like fire burning my joints, licking over my muscles, until it felt like I’d strained every part of my legs. There was no way of knowing when the surge would die down, and I’d be unable to move without pain until it did. I should’ve just done grocery pick-up, but my budget couldn’t handle the extra fees.

The fire turned into ice as I slowly limped to the self-checkout, the frozen feeling cracking me, like it was trying to shatter my bones. Sweat dripped down my skin from the effort to not cry out in pain. I dumped my canvas grocery bag onto the self-checkout machine and leaned against it for support.

Ma’am? Are you okay?

No. I was very much so not okay. I hadn’t been okay for years. Not since my stepsister died, and my body started to fail me.

I tried not to groan too loudly as I turned to see one of the grocery store workers watching me. I forgot my cane in the car. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I hated needing help, I hated asking for it even more.

Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am! Here, let me take your bag and I’ll ring up your groceries for you.

Humans reacted one of three ways to me. Either they were nice, they ignored me, or they decided I’d personally offended them somehow, and they needed to tell me all about it. Option two was best, but one was fine as well.

I leaned against the candy bar shelf and handed over my card when she was finished. She bagged up the groceries and passed the bag over with a smile.

Do you need help out? I can get one of the wheelchairs?

One of those bulky things that made so much noise and made it harder to shop, not to mention almost always caused scenario three? No, thank you. I shook my head and waited for her to move on, waiting until she was gone before I had to steel myself for more pain.

The walk to the car left me dripping in sweat, and I could barely press the pedals to get back home. I limped in agony into my house and collapsed onto the entryway floor, sobbing until my chest ached as much as my legs did.

I wasn’t always like this.

There was a time before, when my body was normal. I was a normal witch with normal problems, and none of those problems were being unable to walk. Now I was broken, and damaged. Not even my magic could help, so what good was it? I hadn’t cast a spell in so long, I almost forgot what it was like.

Having a second floor in my house when I had leg problems is clearly stupid, but I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. This was my mother’s home, so I didn’t have to pay rent.

If I could get upstairs, I could grab one of my potions from the bathroom cupboard, but they weren’t worth the side effects. They eased the pain while prolonging the effects of the surge. I debated whether or not the potion would be worth it, and remembered, yet again, I should be keeping those potions downstairs.

I couldn’t do it. I could soldier through the pain, but I needed to use my legs. I can’t tell you how many times I’d slept on the couch because I couldn’t get up the stairs.

Well. Time to sit here on the floor and hope this surge goes away fast. Sitting helped my legs feel better, but the longer I sat, the more my ass hurt. I played games on my phone, stretching my calves every so often to test the pain levels, even though I’d be able to tell inside when the surge died down. It was equal parts stubbornness and impatience on my part, so