Page 11 of Witch Bound and Down

"That's what we do," Bullseye said. "We watch out for each other."

"Even when you're breaking the law?"

"Especially then."

There was something appealing about that loyalty, that belonging. The Three Counties United Witches Society was more about social climbing than real sisterhood.

"Take the next exit," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Trust me. I know a place we can lay low."

Bullseye looked skeptical but took the exit. "Where?"

"Supernatural truck stop about five miles up. Run by a former coven member of mine. Sage owes me a favor, and she hates law enforcement."

"Why?"

"Long story involving a werewolf deputy, a love potion, and a very unfortunate marriage proposal."

The truck stop appeared like a mirage in the desert night, neon signs advertising "Enchanted Eats" and "24-Hour Potion Refills" casting colorful light across the parking lot. The lot was packed with magical vehicles—vampire-black Peterbilts with tinted windshields, fairy-dust pink pickups that sparkled under the neon glow.

"Welcome to Sage's Supernatural Stop-N-Go," Hazel said as they parked between a dragon-scale semi and a sentient food truck. "Best coffee this side of the Mississippi and absolutely no questions asked."

Bullseye surveyed the eclectic collection of vehicles and owners under the neon lights. Pixie mechanics worked on a goblin's motorcycle while a centaur argued with a troll about octane ratings near the illuminated fuel pumps.

"Your ex-coven member runs this?"

"Sage believes in providing safe haven for anyone who needs it," Hazel said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "No matter what they're running from."

"Or transporting illegally?"

"Especially that."

As they climbed out, Hazel caught her reflection in the side mirror and winced. Her transformation spell was holding, but her hair looked like she'd been electrocuted.

"I look like I've been through a tornado."

"You look beautiful," Bullseye said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made her breath catch.

"I look like a disaster."

"A beautiful disaster." His dark eyes were warm.

Her pulse kicked up, that electric sensation dancing along her skin. The way he looked at her—like he could see through all her defenses—should have been terrifying. Instead, it was thrilling.

"We should get inside," she said, voice slightly breathless.

As they walked toward the entrance, Bullseye's hand settled on the small of her back—protective, possessive, sending heat spiraling through her.

"Wait," he said, stopping just before the door.

"What?"

He turned to face her fully, his massive frame blocking out the neon light from the truck stop. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin. "I need to do this."

And then he kissed her.

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