The moment Alfonso waved that cheap plastic wand, muttering some half-cooked incantation, I was hit by the urge to laugh.
“You are bound by the chains of the Houdini's heir, unable to break free until the moon kisses the sea.”
It sounded like something out of a bad fantasy novel.
I scoffed. “Really? That's your big?—”
A wave of dizziness hit me like a punch from a drunken boxer. My legs buckled, and the world spun. Miranda's concerned face blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors before darkness swallowed me whole.
When I came to, it felt like only seconds had passed, but I was laying down next to something warm. My right arm was cut short of movement with the rattle of something metal.
A pair of sparkling brown sugar eyes blinked back at me. Miranda.
We were chained to a bed that seemed to have been stolen from a medieval torture chamber placed on an otherwise empty stage.
Chapter 8
The Beast
“Xander," Miranda's voice brought me back to the present, her tone clipped with irritation. "Tell me you can break these.”
We were trapped together, handcuffed to a bed in an empty theater. I wish I could say I’d woken up in a stranger situation, but this kind of took the cake.
I shot her a smug grin and a flirty wink. “Of course I can, sweetheart.”
My hubris got the best of me. I instantly realized I should have lied because I had my mistress of death exactly where Iwanted her. Miranda lying next to me, her warm curves pressed into mine where she couldn’t run away.
Also, I got a strange reassurance from being restrained. It likely had something to do with being locked up for most of my days. The sensation was akin to how someone else would feel with their grandmother’s handknit blanket wrapped around them. Downright cozy.
But there was no taking advantage of this situation now, not that I let my mouth run before my brain caught up.
I tugged at the cuffs, expecting them to snap like twigs. Nothing.
My brows knitted in a frown. That can’t be right. I pulled again, but something was holding some of my strength at bay.
“Hold on,” I grunted, rolling over, pressing more firmly into Miranda’s prone body. She turned her head, the only part she could move away from me.
Another jerk of my wrists. Nothing.
“Problem?” Miranda asked, her voice tight with impatience.
“No,” I huffed. “No problem… Just...”
I twisted and rolled until I straddled Miranda’s hips, covering her completely with my own body. The heat of her body scalded me even as she inhaled sharply.
Caught between my need to capture that sigh in my mouth and my pride, my pride won out as I refocused on getting us the fuck out of here.
I pulled at the handcuffs again and again. The chains rattled a mocking tune to my attempts to break the weak mortal metal. My agitation ratcheted upward as my efforts to break the chains grew near violent.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Miranda practically yelled over the cacophony of my frustrated grunts and rattling metal. Her hands steadied my elbows even as I panted.
She took a deep breath. “What’s going on? Is it some kind of god-proofed set of handcuffs?”
I searched my muddled thoughts.
Alfonso’s ludicrous incantation echoed in my head, and I realized, with annoyance and disbelief, that it had worked. My godly strength, seemingly nullified by the power of bad acting and worse magic tricks.
“He’s a hypnotist,” I growled.
