Taken by the Sorcerer
by Megan Slayer
Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 3, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
She’s never been taken seriously. He’s seen as a geek.
Together, they could be unstoppable.
Skylar Graves is a synth -- she can shift into anything. She’s also
known all around the world as a billionaire playgirl fool. Parties?
She’s had them. Money? Bucketloads. Brains… Well, there’s
the rub. No one’s ever believed she had the brains to make the money. No
one’s ever believed in her at all.
Enter Brody and a reason to use those brains.
Brody isn’t the best sorcerer. He knows his spells and how to create
them, but he’s still learning to control his magic. When he finds his
perfect mate, he’ll be set. But is she out there? The trouble is,
he’s been tasked with helping other paras find Eerie and he can’t
do that alone.
The mome he meets Skylar, he knows he’s found his match, but the problem
lies in convincing her she’s more than she ever believed.
Not impossible… right?
EXCERPT
“I am getting into this party.” Brody Teague drove up the winding
road to the gravel area at the base of the Skylar Graves property. The music
blared and vibrated the ground, even this far out. He hated loud noise and
didn’t really want to be here, but he needed to speak to Skylar.
He just knew she was a para and could help him. He knew it.
Still, he couldn’t hide his irritation. How did one woman have so much
ridiculous wealth? This wasn’t just opulence, but obnoxious opulence.
He’d bet the people attending this party spent more on one pair of shoes
than he did on his rent for the month.
Right now, he needed to speak to her. What would she say if she knew she was
meeting a true sorcerer who wanted her help? She’d probably laugh. If
she helped him, he could develop his potion to allow paras to move in regular
society, and also concoct the signal to help paras who didn’t even know
they were para to find refuge in Eerie. He knew there were more people out
there who could come to the town and find a place to exist and understand
their abilities, if they had the signal to get there.
He left his car and trudged the last few hundred yards up the road to the main
gate. The number of cars parked every which way in his path amazed him. How
were these people going to leave? They’d need choreography or a cop to
help them.
Didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t going to be there when they left.
He’d get in, give his pitch, hope for the best, and get the hell out of
there. He walked up to the gate and admired the wrought iron. The doors swung
loose, allowing him onto the property. He’d bet this gate was locked up
tight any other time. He touched the iron and the chill settled in his bones.
The gate was spooky, really. It looked like a cartoony alien in the middle.
Aliens… He knew they existed, but they didn’t look like the
Roswellian versions. They were much more like humans than the actual humans
believed. But aliens were good at morphing and shifting to fit their
environment.
As he walked among the people having conversations and dancing, he realized he
shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. He’d
never seen so much purple in his life. People danced by the pool, swaying and
gyrating. The men tended to be dressed in suits and tuxedos. The women wore
evening gowns. The plethora of sequins caught the light. Glasses clinked and
laughter rang out. The music blared even louder and the water seemed to thrum
with the beat.
Would anyone notice him? Somehow, he doubted it.
He spied the buffet of food. Every fruit and veggie possible for a tray were
spread out on the table, along with a chocolate fountain and a stack of
glasses, no doubt filled with champagne. He’d bet it was the most
expensive bubbly, at that.
There were people at the side table with powder that might or might not be
drugs. He forced himself away from that area. He’d never had a problem
with drugs or wanted to try them but didn’t judge anyone who did.
He fought the urge to cover his ears. The noise bothered him. He was a
scientist and sorcerer. He needed to concentrate. This place didn’t
allow him to do that. He could barely focus.
He scanned the various people at the party and shook his head. She
wasn’t there. He’d know Skylar in a heartbeat. Then again, she was
about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Silky blonde hair,
willowy and tall, a few curves, and kissable lips. He wanted to look into her
brown eyes and get lost.
He balled his hand and gritted his teeth. Damn it. He wasn’t there to
drool over her. He was there to ask a question.
Brody focused on the money spent to not only throw the party, but to have this
house and lifestyle. The paintings weren’t photos or pictures printed on
canvas, but actual works of art. Was that a Picasso? Nah. He tipped his head.
Well, maybe. She had the money to buy whatever she wanted, so it was
plausible.
He couldn’t imagine having that much cash. He’d barely scraped by
all his life. But by being poor, he’d learned how to use what he had and
make it stretch to work for his needs. It taught him to be humble, too.
A woman in a blood red body-hugging gown grabbed him. “Look at you. Are
you one of the dancers?” She yanked him close and kissed him right on
the mouth. “You sure taste good.”
He wriggled in her grasp. “I’m not a dancer.” He had two
left feet. “Sorry.”
“Then stay with me.” She tugged him across the expanse of lawn
toward the pool. “She brought a few newbs. This one’s right off
the farm.”
He managed to disengage himself from her and darted back to the safety of the
bigger crowd on the veranda. Why anyone thought they had the right to force
themselves on someone else was beyond him. She’d touched him without his
permission. Gross.
He didn’t know that woman and was sure she wasn’t a para. Hell,
she’d probably slash his ass if she found out he was one. Would they
turn on Skylar when they found out she was one? If she was one…
He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the crowd again. If she’d
used some of her money to help paras and not buy another sports car,
she’d be a folk hero. There were plenty of paras who needed a hand in
getting to Eerie and more who could use help in figuring out what their magic
might be.
But she’d chosen to be decadent.
He moved through the people again, looking for her. Nope, she wasn’t
there. He’d never forget her hair or smile.
A woman with bright red hair bumped into him, but he doubted she knew he was
there.
“I hear she’s a para,” the woman said. “I don’t
know how. She’s so normal.”
What a reductive thing to say. He kept his back to her but continued to
listen.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” the woman with her said.
“She’s a freak. I mean, how else could she have this kind of money
and do absolutely nothing? It’s supposed to be her father’s money,
but has anyone ever seen him? No. He doesn’t exist. I bet she stole it
or it’s created money.”
Judgmental much? He rolled his eyes, then resumed looking through the crowd.
“Think she really is manufacturing the money?” the first woman
said.
“Nah,” the other woman replied. “It’s just a way for
her to get attention. She’s probably got a dead husband or ex that she
bled dry financially.”
“She is an attention-grabber.”
He hated that these people who’d been invited to the party -- or maybe
they’d crashed it like he had -- so openly dismissed her. Like she
didn’t have feelings or didn’t matter and wasn’t a person.
So rude.
Still, he wasn’t so thrilled with Skylar. He wished she’d donate
her money or time back to Eerie to help the para community. Paras were dying
from harm coming to them via the human and outside world. Vampires were staked
for being different. Faeries slaughtered for making magic. Trolls and gnomes
killed for being perceived as ugly. It wasn’t right.
A golden eagle soared into the space and flew right past him. The bird seemed
to keep circling him.
“Go,” he muttered. “I’m not dinner. Shoo.” Why
was this eagle focusing on him? He wobbled. Shit. Was it trained to find the
crashers? Could be. He wanted to use a spell to get the fuck out of there, but
he’d have to return to get his car. Goddamn it.
The bird flew around him again, then soared across the expanse and landed on
the upright next to the DJ stand.
The DJ stopped the music. “And there is Skylar Graves’ famous pet
eagle. Who else but Skylar would have an eagle as a pet? So majestic and
graceful. But watch out. She has a nasty bite! Let’s give it up for
Audra, her eagle!”
The crowd cheered and the eagle soared out of the way, behind the second floor
of the mansion.
He groaned. What a ridiculous show of extravagance. It displayed her wealth,
sure, but it was a waste of money. The bird should be in the wild or a zoo,
where it could be appreciated and admired. Not stuck in a damn mansion with a
woman who had more money than brains.
He snorted to himself. Good God, he was being harsh and judgmental.
“Is she here?” someone asked.
“She’s having a party and doesn’t care to show up,”
another said. “She’s probably out of the country. She’s
never here.”
“I bet we could rob this place blind and she’d never know,”
a third person said.
“Except she’s got the best security system. This place is
protected better than government vaults,” another voice said.
“Don’t try it. This joint will scream and lock down in
seconds.”
Brody gritted his teeth again. She had to be there. He had no choice. People
were discussing robbing her and belittling her… just like he had. Damn
it.
He bowed his head. He had to think about her as a person and para, not a
source of money. That’s how they all saw her -- a reflection of her
disposable income. She lived her life like nothing mattered. It was all a big
party. She didn’t command respect.
Then again, he didn’t exactly command it, either. He did better behind
the scenes. Let him stay in his lab with his medicines and potions. There he
was fine. All he wanted to do was help his fellow paras.
“Excuse me.” A woman tugged his arm and yanked him out of the main
space and behind a curtain.
“What the?” He stared at her. He’d never seen anyone with
golden brown eyes. They were transfixing. But she’d grabbed him.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
He couldn’t look away from her. Most of her face was concealed behind a
black, feathery mask. He could swear he knew her, but he couldn’t place
her.
“I need to speak to you.” She held onto him. “Do you know
Skylar?”
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of
more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works
are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a
second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at
the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and
Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various
e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
Author on Twitter
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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
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