Page 1 of Hexes and Exes

1

AVA

Fuck you.

Fuck you, too.

Fuckyouwith a rough wooden broomstick. I hope it gives your ass splinters.

I look around the clearing and spot so many people I want to punch. My father, my ex-boyfriend, his intern slash fuck buddy slash apparently new girlfriend. They all get a mental middle finger.

“Happy New Year to the Luminara coven,” Lucida Ash, the head of the Tenebris coven, greets the crowd.

Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. Less than a month ago, Mystic Hollows was a town divided. We had two covens that loathed each other; the Lumen and Tenebris covens. We weren’t even allowed to cross the river and step foot on each other's territory. Then some deep, dark secrets were uncovered, ancient coven history was revealed, and stories we’d been told since childhood were proved to be lies. In a surprise move, the Lumen and Tenebris covens combined, and now we are the newly formed Luminara coven.

The joy in this clearing is palpable. Just kidding. Everyone is pissed.

“Tell me again why we’re here?” I grumble to one of my oldest friends, Josephine Delvaux. She’s standing next to me, bundled up in a puffy coat and a knitted cap pulled down low on her forehead. On her other side is her boyfriend Roman Blackthorn, with whom she shares a magical bond. Inky vines appeared one night on both of their ring fingers. We’ve yet to discover exactly why the mark appeared. All we know is that it’s a fated bond, and it broke both of their curses.

Yeah, that’s right, curses.

Because, of course, this town is more messed up than you can imagine. Every firstborn from one of the most powerful magical families in Mystic Hollows is born with a curse. And while Jo and Roman may have gotten rid of theirs, no one else has. Including me.

“Keep your enemies closer.” Stellan, my younger brother by three minutes, slings an arm over my shoulder. While he’s technically my little brother, he’s also almost a foot taller than me. A lot of people assume that because we’re twins, he also got the shit end of the stick and has a curse, but he doesn’t. I’m the lucky member of the Vandenberg family who gets to suffer.

My friends and I spent last night ringing in the New Year at one of Ambrose Roth’s clubs. Before six months ago, I’d never so much as hung out with someone from the Tenebris coven. Thanks to Josephine and Roman’s Romeo and Juliet love affair–sans the unhappy ending–our friend group has expanded to include a whole new cast of characters. Ambrose is one of Roman’s oldest friends. The Roth family owns most of the entertainment venues in Mystic Hollows. We had bottle service and unlimited drinks all night, so I’m not mad about it. I am, however, tired, hungover, and I have a sneaking suspicion thatI did or said something really stupid last night. I just can’t remember what it was.

I should be sleeping off my hangover, or eating greasy food, but no. The Luminara coven called a mandatory gathering at sunrise in our new joint ceremonial site in the Grimwood. If starting the year tromping through the snowy woods in the dark–when it’s zero degrees out and I’ve only had three hours of sleep–is a sign of things to come, then I’m going to hide in my apartment for the next twelve months.

“I don’t trust the coven. If you’d seen the way my mother and Selene were chatting the night of the winter solstice, you’d be suspicious too,” Josephine murmurs under her breath. It wasn’t long ago that her parents performed a ritual on her that backfired. The move got Josephine's mother removed from the Lumen coven council, and in a stroke of karma, made Josephine's parents and one of her sisters the bearer of their family curse. Selene, the leader of the now defunct Lumen Coven, is the co-leader of our new coven. The fact that she was chatting up Jo’s mom, like she isn’t a huge piece of shit, is suspect.

“If we don’t keep tabs on them, then who knows what they’ll do.” Jo shakes her head.

“Probably the same boring shit they always do.” I shrug and rub a hand over the back of my neck. My skin tingles, and I look over my shoulder. Bram Blackthorn’s penetrating gray gaze is focused on me.

Bram is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I mean that in a completely hot, masculine, rip-your-clothes-off-with-a-growl kind of beautiful. His dark hair is thick and always falls perfectly with a slight wave. His cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass, and his chiseled jaw is one that models would envy.

He’s also a dick.

Here’s what I know about Bram Blackthorn. His full name is Abraham, and I’ve considered calling him Abe, but I’m worried he might punish me. And not in a fun, kinky way. He’s thirty-one, just six months younger than his half-brother, Roman, and three years older than me. His house recently burned down, and he’s been living at Roman’s place. He likes to pick fights and is grumpy most of the time.

“What?” I mouth the word.

He raises one brow and a faint smirk tips up his lips. I narrow my eyes and shoot him a glare before facing forward again. So what if my belly is swooping and fluttering with butterflies at that look. It’s just because he’s far too attractive for his own good.

Then there’s me. Not too tall, not too short. Mousy brown hair, plain jane brown eyes, a stomach that folds over my pants on days I eat too many carbs. Which, let's be honest, is most of the time. I do have a nice rack, though.

Bram sidles up beside me, his arm bumping into my shoulder. “How’s your head feeling?”

“There’s an entire marching band playing a fight song in there. Thanks for asking.” I rub my mittens together, activating a spell Piper put on them to keep my hands warm.

Bram’s eyes are on my face. I slowly turn my head and stare right back. “Did someone draw a dick on my forehead when I passed out last night? Have I grown horns? Why do you keep staring at me?” I’m not shy by anyone’s standards, but there’s something about Bram that brings an extra helping of snark right out of me.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like one of those wide-eyed dolls.”

I choke on my spit. How fucking embarrassing. I can’t even swallow without injuring myself. “Like…a sex doll?” I say between coughs.

Why did I just ask that?

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