Page 12 of Witch Bound and Down

It wasn't gentle. It was hungry and desperate and tasted like danger and promises. Hazel melted into him, her magic flaring bright as their supernatural energies tangled together. His other arm came around her waist, pulling her against the solid wall of his chest, and she could feel the rumble of satisfaction in his throat when she kissed him back.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Hazel's magic was sparking visibly in the air around them.

"What was that for?” she asked, heart hammering.

"For luck," he repeated, but his eyes were dark with heat.

"Right. Luck." Her lips were tingling, her magic still reaching toward his like it had found something it had been searching for.

"Oh great," Hopper croaked from her shoulder. "Now we're really in trouble."

Hazel didn't care. For the first time in her life, trouble felt exactly like where she wanted to be.

The CB radio crackled one more time from the Trans Am: "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman. Just hit Los Angeles city limits. ETA to pickup in two hours. How copy, Bullseye?"

Bullseye glanced back at the car, then at Hazel, whose lips were still swollen from his kiss. He reached back into the car and toggled on the microphone."Copy that, Snowman. Bullseye is making a brief stop for supplies. Will catch up shortly."

"Roger that. Try not to get arrested while I'm gone."

"No promises," Bullseye muttered, following Hazel into the truck stop, his hand still warm on her back.

Chapter 4

Bullseye

Sage's Supernatural Stop-N-Go looked like someone had taken a regular truck stop and fed it a handful of rainbow-colored mushrooms. The building itself seemed to shift colors depending on the angle of view, and the neon signs advertising "Magically Delicious Coffee" and "Hexed Ham Sandwiches" flickered in languages that probably predated written history, all casting eerie glows in the desert night.

"She sure has interesting decorating taste," Bullseye said as they approached the entrance, stepping around a gargoyle that was apparently the door greeter. It tipped its stone hat politely.

"Sage believes ambiance is important," Hazel replied. "She says if you're going to run a business that caters to the supernatural underground, you might as well embrace the aesthetic."

The moment they walked through the door, a petite woman with silver hair and violet eyes materialized behind the counter—literally materialized, in a shower of sparkles that made Bullseye's nose itch.

"Hazel Thornfield!" the woman exclaimed, her voice carrying a slight accent that sounded like it came from somewhere that probably didn't exist on most maps. "What in the seven hells are you doing here? And why do you look like you've been through a blender?"

"Hello, Sage," Hazel said, glancing around the truck stop. "I need a favor."

---