Possess Me by R.G. Alexander

lovers vied for her attention, and her friends were the elite of the art world. Sure, she wasn’t painting, but there were no dangling chicken feet, no family expectations, and not a single irritating Southern man to be found.
    The mugging changed everything. People got mugged all the time in New York City. In fact, a few of her friends said you couldn’t really claim native status until you were.
    But this had been no ordinary mugging.
    The man who’d attacked her hadn’t been alone. Someone, or some thing , had been directing him, controlling him. When it realized Michelle could see it, it stopped trying to steal her purse and jewelry, and attacked. If a coworker hadn’t come along . . . she didn’t want to think about what might have happened.
    After that the medicine her therapist had given her hadn’t worked. She could see everything. The veil had been lifted once more, and the world that had seemed so magical to her when she was young took a frightening turn.
    That was when she knew she had to come home. Had to understand. Why her? Why had she been given the ability to see all the things that went bump in the night? Was there a reason—beyond driving her insane? And if not, how could she get it to stop for good?
    Maybe it had been the wrong decision. Being back home had felt good, but after four years, she found she still couldn’t bring herself to talk to her mother about her renewed abilities. And now, well, if she hadn’t returned, Allegra would never have moved here to recuperate, Bone Daddy would never have met her . . . and Michelle wouldn’t be watching through her window as the possessed Rousseau and Benjamin Adair fucked her friend into an orgasmic stupor in the loft above the coffee shop.
    It wasn’t Allegra’s fault she’d given in. Despite all her warnings, Michelle knew how hard it was to resist the pull of a Loa, especially one as magnetic as Bone Daddy. The voodoo spirit wasn’t entirely to blame either. He never hid his agenda from anyone. He wanted sex, and he was willing to do whatever he had to do to get it.
    If anything it was Ben she was angry with. He’d been the devil whispering in Allegra’s ear, encouraging her crush on Rousseau. Flirting for his own wicked purposes. And he didn’t have the excuse of being under the influence of a spell or spirit. He was just born trouble.
    Too bad he was so damn fine. It made it harder to hate him, wanting him as badly as she did. And it made it impossible to tear herself away from the window when he shed his clothes, his body perfectly profiled as he stood beside the bed. He was watching Allegra writhe on the sheets, Rousseau’s face buried between her thighs.
    Michelle was watching Ben.
    He was a golden god. Sandy blond hair with a tendency to curl at the ends when he left it too long. Strong, square jaw that constantly seemed to have a day’s worth of stubble. He always looked as though he’d be more at home on a surfboard in California than the steamy streets of New Orleans.
    And his body. It was the stuff of wet dreams. Lean and muscular, his chest was sprinkled with light brown hair that she wanted to tug, wanted to run her fingers through.
    Her gaze honed in on his erection. He was stroking it lightly, grazing it with his short fingernails while he studied the couple on the bed. Michelle wanted to touch him, wanted to take him into her mouth and taste every thick, delicious inch.
    Rousseau stepped back from the bed, Bone Daddy’s aura bright around him, and Ben turned to crawl onto the bed. The lamplight fell on the paler skin of his perfectly bitable ass, and she saw it. The small tattoo on his right cheek.
    Mimi .
    His nickname for her inked on his behind for all to see. A sudden memory of when and why he’d gotten it flooded her mind.
    The exact details of her eighteenth birthday were foggy. She’d let her friends get her drunk in celebration, and gone to a strip club when she probably shouldn’t have.
    She’d been spouting