those welts from my dress. If not for meddling assassins and ex-husbands as stubborn as I am.
“Well, Morgan le Fay,” he murmurs, stroking into me. “Is it enough?”
I shatter into a thousand, glittering pieces.
“Yes,” I breathe to the man I love, the man who can call me mine. The man who left pea-sized welts of devotion on my skin. “Yes. It’s enough.”
If you’re looking for more tales with the American Witch and a round table of sexy rogues, check out Sierra Simone’s American Queen, the first book of the New Camelot Series.
One-Click AMERICAN QUEEN Now
Turn the page to read more of the Midnight Dynasty world...
Little Red Riding Hood
Karina Halle
1
It was a starless, dark night, the sky a swath of black silk. It was as if even the moon knew that something was afoot, that trouble would find itself in the hallowed halls of the Constantine mansion, and it had decided to hide in advance.
Ginger Jones quietly shut the door to the Uber, paying the car no attention as it pulled away. Her gaze was brought up to that endless dark sky as she wondered if it was an omen of some kind. A chill swept through her though the air was warm and soft, and she gathered her red cloak tightly around her.
Inconspicuous my ass, she thought to herself, eying her intricately laced red gown. Her grandmother said she wanted her to blend in, but how on earth was she supposed to blend in when her gown looked like it was dipped in blood? She knew the party was supposed to be a Gatsby-esque masquerade ball, and that most people would be dressed in white and silver and gold, living out their 1920’s fantasies. Thank god for her own elaborate Venetian mask of gold that covered everything but her scarlet-painted mouth. When combined with her cloak, no one would figure out who she was – not that they’d know, anyway.
Instinctively, Ginger reached into her small golden pouch until her fingers brushed against the message her grandmother gave her, the message she came to this ball to deliver. She gave the message a squeeze, as if hoping to garner courage from it, then she straightened her shoulders and started down the long winding road to the Constantine mansion.
Ginger knew it would look odd if the Uber driver dropped her off at the front of the mansion amidst all the limousines and fancy cars. She didn’t have money like the rest of them, and her invitation was forged at any rate. Better to walk and not risk it. For all she figured, the guests could just imagine she appeared like magic, or perhaps was dropped off by a pumpkin carriage.
But this was no fairy tale. For Ginger, it wasn’t even a lavish party. She was here to work. She was here to deliver a message to Alfred Carino, one of New York’s most elite crime bosses, and an old friend of her grandmother’s. Alfred was close friends with Caroline Constantine, and it was her daughter’s party, the youngest of the family, and all of New York royalty had been invited. Ginger’s grandmother said it was the perfect opportunity for Ginger to snag a few moments alone with Alfred Carino.
Of course, Ginger had never met the man, only seen pictures, but she dutifully did whatever her grandmother asked of her. They were a team, and her grandmother, as old as she was, was still the smartest, quickest person she knew. She never led her astray.
Even so, Ginger did wish she was here with her. She knew why she had to go alone, that being a stunning young woman meant it was easier to sneak into places filled with the young and beautiful, even when she wasn’t really supposed to be there. And if she played her feminine wiles just right, she might be able to snag Alfred’s attention without having to resort to any trickery. One could hope.
Finally, Ginger reached the mansion, the light from her burner phone the only way she was able to stay by the road. She decided to come rather on the late side, hoping that most guests would have already arrived, and that she could slip in unnoticed.
There would be no slipping by anyone.
In front of the imposing mansion with its stone pillars and carefully groomed gardens, were a couple of smokers, looking both trashy and elegant in their gilded gowns and clouds of nicotine. Up by the massive front doors were two menacing guards she would have