Page 3 of The Trouble With Spells
“All we’re saying,” Gran turned the key, starting the van, “is we won’t be available to help. We need you to look after the shop, and make sure nothing dire happens while we are away.”
“No magic,” I nodded my dark curls, pushing my glasses up. “I got it. The shop will be fine. Go. Enjoy. Run naked and wild beneath the moon with the covens.”
Gran chortled loudly. “Sure you don’t want to come? We could use more warlock energy.”
“There’s not enough eye bleach in the world. Love you. Be good.” I waved my finger at her, raising a brow, because Gran had a wicked gleam of mischief in her eyes.
“Gran, you know naked boobies and vaginas make Callum go screaming the other way like a little schoolgirl.”
“Daphne, stop tormenting your brother,” Mom chastised, while Gran cackled merrily, and I wondered how this was my life. “No one is running around naked, Callum. And Mara will have all our cell phones, but if something…does happen–and I’m not saying it will!–I left the landline number of the lodge on the fridge.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gran chortled. “I plan to be naked as much as possible!”
Watching as they drove down the street, I shoved my hands into my pockets. I planned to pour another cup of coffee and enjoy the blessed silence of the house, before flipping the sign to The Witch’s Brew, our family-owned occult shop, toOpen.
If I happened to wave my hand over my tepid cup of coffee later that morning, and it happened to burst into flames and shatter all over the counter, no one besides Hex and me needed to know about it.
Chapter Two
Michael
“Are you seriously kicking me out? Now?”
The cute twink, that I couldn’t remember the name of, who was still lounging among the completely destroyed bedsheets in my king-sized bed, sputtered indignantly. From my view in my bathroom mirror I could see him glaring at me. Pale limbs, mussed blond hair, kiss swollen lips, and pretty brown eyes shooting angry daggers at me.
Running a hand through my damp, sandy brown hair, my blue eyes met his furious ones in the reflection. Flashing him a smile, I shrugged. “Technically you don’t live here, so it’s not considered kicking you out.”
I was stretching the law a bit, but I hadn’t become one of Boston’s youngest prosecutingattorneys, without twisting the law to my advantage occasionally. It was all about the spin you put on things.
Turning to face him, I leaned my naked ass against the vanity. His eyes ate up the sight of me, even as he tried to hold onto his anger at me politely telling him it was time for him to go.
“Look,” crossing my arms over my wide chest, I stalled for a second trying to remember his name. Brian? Ryan? The music in the club had been loud, fairly pulsating with bass, and the dance floor had been crowded. He was a lot shorter than my six foot three, and I’d had to bend down to try to hear him. I hadn’t heard clearly what he’d said his name was, and I hadn’t cared enough to ask a second time. His name hadn’t mattered.
It wasn’t like I planned to ever see him again. He was a bit of fun, nothing more. A good stress reliever before closing arguments on a huge case I’d been working on for almost a year.
Not that I was overly worried about any of my cases. They didn’t call me Golden Boy for nothing. I hadn’t lost a case in two years. With my winning streak, it was a given that if I was prosecuting your case, you were going to do serious jail time.
And thanks to my hefty trust fund, I could afford my pricey penthouse condo in downtown Boston, while working for the state doing what I loved. Putting criminals behind bars where they belonged.
He narrowed his eyes at me, not moving from the bed, his arms crossed over his thin chest defiantly. “You don’t fucking remember my name, do you?”
“Does it really matter if I do or not?” I flashed him my smile again, knowing it had managed to get me out of a lot of shit my entire life. My mom often said I was born with a golden cloud over my head. Everything just always went my way; it always had.
The petite man swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff. “I hate guys like you. Sooo fucking arrogant. Pretty boys, always getting what you want with no regard for anyone you might hurt in the process. Selfish asshole.” Grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor, he yanked it over his head, muttering words I couldn’t hear under his breath.
“We both got what we wanted last night.” Leaning against the vanity, I crossed my ankles and watched him dress with jerky movements. “I got a blow job and you got fucked into the mattress. We both came. It was fun but now I need you to leave. I have to be in court later today.”
Dick. Selfish. Bad luck. Black heart. Mote it be?
I caught a few words he was muttering as he angrily yanked on his clothes.
Mote it be?What the fuck was he mumbling?
“Cruelty and the pain…caused again…I say this spell…”
He straightened to his full height when he was dressed and pointed a thin finger at me. Now his eyes were filledwith an almost malicious intent, which sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. His lips, so pouty and kissable and fucking pretty when they’d been stretched around my dick earlier, were set in a cruel little half smile.
“What the fuck was all that?” My smile vanished, and I scowled at him.
