“You expecting someone?”
Hands shakes ano.
“I wonder who it could be.”
The trek from the kitchen to the front door is a showcase of every invention that I’ve created. All of them hovering on shelves or bobbing up and down, suspended by nothing more than magic.
There’s the pocket cauldron, my first successful creation and the one that put my name on the map. Then there’s the warmer in a bottle. Just uncork it and every time a witch has to dance naked under the moonlight, she won’t freeze to death in her birthday suit. Then there’s my personal favorite—instant eye of newt. Just one drop on anything and it becomes eye of newt—a key ingredient for many potions.
The doorbell rings again. “So impatient.” I lift my hand, and magic slinks out, creeping over the polished marble and to the door, where the handle turns and opens it.
And there she stands—Blair Thornrose.
It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. Or perhaps it’s just the wintry air entering the house.
No. Not the air. It’s definitely my body’s reaction to this woman.
She is the most beautiful creature on earth, even now as she glares at me with chocolate-colored eyes full of hate. Her pouty, sensuous lips are puckered in displeasure (what those lips coulddo on my skin), and she’s tapping her foot like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
She’s making my knees freaking weak.
There is no one like Blair Thornrose. I have never, ever gotten over her. Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying. There have been many women (too numerous to count), but no one has ever even come close to outshining her. No one else understood me like she did, could make me laugh like her.
And then it ended because of me.
My heart lurches from my chest, and it takes all my will not to slide my hand up the back of her neck, wrap my fingers in her hair, drag her into my house and do all the things to her that I’ve imagined over the years. Oh, we would play for hours, days, weeks.
If I were a werewolf, I’d mark every inch of her skin with my razor-sharp canines, even the delicate bits.
Though I want her, she’s staring at me as if she’s deciding whether it would be better to throw me off a bridge or set me on fire.
“Why, Blair. It’s been a while. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Without a word, she shoves a stack of books into my gut. Hard.
I double over and grunt in pain.
Good thing she didn’t aim for the crotch and crush the family jewels.
“There. Take your stupid books.”
What?
She’s already walking away, her backside swishing hypnotically. Ishouldlet her go. Ishouldwalk inside and return to my experiment. There are a lot of shoulds that Ishoulddo.
But apparently I am an idiot.
“Wait.” I’m down the steps, ignoring the cold as it bites into my face and neck, and grabbing her by the arm, which of course she yanks away as if I’m made of fire. “I didn’t order any books.”
She barks a laugh, and steam rolls from her mouth. “Right.How to Impress Witches with Magic Tricks?Come on, Devlin. That title has you written all over it. Sure, you didn’t order books.”
What?
I glance down at the spines, and sure enough, not only is there a book by that title, but there are two others,A Way To a Witch’s HeartandWash Your Face, Wizard.
What sort of self-help magical hell did someone order for me?
“Have a nice life,” she says, strolling off.
