protested.
"That's right," I said, not masking my anger.
"You shit-talked my magic."
"Well, your magic could use a little help." He
gave me a small, hopeful smile. "I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you who
I was, or why I was here."
"Why not?" I asked, blinking back tears. "I
mean, I know I am not as good as my Grams with spells, but I didn't think I was
so bad that some strange coven had to send someone to keep an eye on me. And
not tell me about it to boot."
He sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand. "I'm
sorry, Iz. They wouldn't let me."
I snatched my hand away from him and wiped my eyes. "So
your coven is like a dictatorship?"
"No," he said, defensiveness creeping into his
voice. "We all decided it would be best if I offered more covert
assistance."
"Like getting me into bed?" I snorted. "Was
that part of the plan?"
"Well, it is my book that's teaching you all about
this," he said, his deep brown eyes sweeping over the bed before meeting
mine. They were filled with lust, and my body began betraying my brain.
I shook my head, trying to focus on the blood flowing back
to my head. "I don't understand why it had to be secret."
"What would you have thought if I came here with that
book?"
"I don't know," I replied. "But you could
have given it a shot."
"My Priestess didn't want to risk you kicking me
out," he explained. "Not everyone is open to sex magic. Your
grandmother wasn't."
I shuddered. I didn't even want put Grams and sex magic in
the same sentence.
"She would be disappointed in me." I admitted.
"You wouldn't be the first."
"And that means?"
"Exactly what I said. I am sorry I can't tell you
anymore."
"I think you need to go now," I glared at him, fed
up with the secrets he kept piling on. "And make sure Amanda doesn't see
you."
He stood, his unbuttoned jeans hanging low on his hips.
"Iz, I'm sorry."
He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, but I refused to look
at him. Instead, I stared at the line of dark hair that snaked from the center
of his abs and disappeared under the denim. I expected regret, but what filled
me was a deep longing, a sadness that I wouldn't trace that line with my
tongue, fill my emptiness with his sex, feel his arms close around me.
"You lied to me," I whispered, willing myself not
to cry.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Do me one favor,
please, Izzy. Use the crystal. Give it to Tara. You need to make that spell
work. Don't fuck that up because you're pissed at me."
He picked up the crystal and pressed it into my hand.
Wrapping my fingers around it, I nodded, then rolled over and turned my back to
him, remaining in that position until I heard my door open and then click
closed.
Willing myself out of bed was another matter. I wanted to
pull the covers over my head and hide, but not from shame. I could accept our
hook up. There was an undeniable sexual chemistry between us—I wouldn't fool
myself into thinking that it was love, but there was something there. But now
this felt like a pity hook up. His coven sent him here to have sex with me, to
trick me into a magical practice. When Grams died, our small coven split and
there was no time for me to rebuild. His coven swept in to take advantage of
that.
I wanted to wallow. Instead, I dragged my butt out of bed.
After a cursory brush of my limp hair, and another of my teeth, I tossed on a
ratty t-shirt and a pair of Capri sweats. Flip-flops completed the look. I
palmed the sex spelled crystal in my hand before heading for the door. It was
time to open The Witchery.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I was only 20 minutes late opening the magic shop. It wasn't
like there was a line to get in anyway. Pandora was tuned to The Cruxshadows
station, and I turned the moody synth-pop up loud. Then I feather dusted the
crap out of the entire store.
Amanda's choking cough preceded her into the store from the
kitchen. "What the hell are you doing?" She waved the dust particles
away from her face.
I noticed she was still wearing the same
"That's right," I said, not masking my anger.
"You shit-talked my magic."
"Well, your magic could use a little help." He
gave me a small, hopeful smile. "I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you who
I was, or why I was here."
"Why not?" I asked, blinking back tears. "I
mean, I know I am not as good as my Grams with spells, but I didn't think I was
so bad that some strange coven had to send someone to keep an eye on me. And
not tell me about it to boot."
He sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand. "I'm
sorry, Iz. They wouldn't let me."
I snatched my hand away from him and wiped my eyes. "So
your coven is like a dictatorship?"
"No," he said, defensiveness creeping into his
voice. "We all decided it would be best if I offered more covert
assistance."
"Like getting me into bed?" I snorted. "Was
that part of the plan?"
"Well, it is my book that's teaching you all about
this," he said, his deep brown eyes sweeping over the bed before meeting
mine. They were filled with lust, and my body began betraying my brain.
I shook my head, trying to focus on the blood flowing back
to my head. "I don't understand why it had to be secret."
"What would you have thought if I came here with that
book?"
"I don't know," I replied. "But you could
have given it a shot."
"My Priestess didn't want to risk you kicking me
out," he explained. "Not everyone is open to sex magic. Your
grandmother wasn't."
I shuddered. I didn't even want put Grams and sex magic in
the same sentence.
"She would be disappointed in me." I admitted.
"You wouldn't be the first."
"And that means?"
"Exactly what I said. I am sorry I can't tell you
anymore."
"I think you need to go now," I glared at him, fed
up with the secrets he kept piling on. "And make sure Amanda doesn't see
you."
He stood, his unbuttoned jeans hanging low on his hips.
"Iz, I'm sorry."
He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, but I refused to look
at him. Instead, I stared at the line of dark hair that snaked from the center
of his abs and disappeared under the denim. I expected regret, but what filled
me was a deep longing, a sadness that I wouldn't trace that line with my
tongue, fill my emptiness with his sex, feel his arms close around me.
"You lied to me," I whispered, willing myself not
to cry.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Do me one favor,
please, Izzy. Use the crystal. Give it to Tara. You need to make that spell
work. Don't fuck that up because you're pissed at me."
He picked up the crystal and pressed it into my hand.
Wrapping my fingers around it, I nodded, then rolled over and turned my back to
him, remaining in that position until I heard my door open and then click
closed.
Willing myself out of bed was another matter. I wanted to
pull the covers over my head and hide, but not from shame. I could accept our
hook up. There was an undeniable sexual chemistry between us—I wouldn't fool
myself into thinking that it was love, but there was something there. But now
this felt like a pity hook up. His coven sent him here to have sex with me, to
trick me into a magical practice. When Grams died, our small coven split and
there was no time for me to rebuild. His coven swept in to take advantage of
that.
I wanted to wallow. Instead, I dragged my butt out of bed.
After a cursory brush of my limp hair, and another of my teeth, I tossed on a
ratty t-shirt and a pair of Capri sweats. Flip-flops completed the look. I
palmed the sex spelled crystal in my hand before heading for the door. It was
time to open The Witchery.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I was only 20 minutes late opening the magic shop. It wasn't
like there was a line to get in anyway. Pandora was tuned to The Cruxshadows
station, and I turned the moody synth-pop up loud. Then I feather dusted the
crap out of the entire store.
Amanda's choking cough preceded her into the store from the
kitchen. "What the hell are you doing?" She waved the dust particles
away from her face.
I noticed she was still wearing the same
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