Page 22 of The Forty-Year-Old Virgin Witch

I elbowed Luka in the chest, and with an oomph he moved aside. I pushed my hair out of my face, taking in the absolute mess that was now my cottage. I glanced at the busted hinges of my front door, turning to Luka as my face twisted in anger. Predictably, he pointed at the new man childishly.

“He broke in like a madman!”

“So you stuffed him in my cupboard?”

Luka held his hands up in surrender. I turned to face the newcomer, indignation welling in my veins. It had taken years to get some of those herbs to the correct potency, never mind how rare they were! I marched straight up to the man, who had the audacity to flash me his most charming smile.

SMACK.

My hand stung, but a proud smile stretched across Karl’s face as he kept his hand at the man’s throat. With a vampyre’s strength, I bet he could pop the man’s head like a dandelion.

The newcomer’s eyes were an intriguing turquoise mixed with silver, a color I had only ever seen on a few of the matriarchs in the coven. His hair was brown, and he was dressed in fighting leathers that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a coven meeting.

“I supposed I deserved that. Quinn.”

It took me a moment to realize that was his name. Luka growled as Quinn looked me over, and my patience began to thin.

“Is now really the best time to try flirting?” I challenged.

“Anytime is the best time to flirt.” He winked, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Is it working?”

I scoffed and gestured for Karl to move away. He sighed and backed off, and I kicked the man’s chair over so his head bashed against the floor. Luka grinned like a maniac. The man—Quinn—hissed in pain, his hands going to the back of his head.

“Crazy witch—”

Damon jumped on his chest, hissing and spitting. I leaned over him, my hands on my hips and my eyes narrowed.

“Let me be clear, Quinn: you’ve barged into my house and destroyed years’ worthof precious ingredients. Now is not the time to get fresh with me.”

He groaned, and I gestured to Karl to put him back upright. Damon jumped up to perch on my shoulder, still glaring at Quinn.

“Do we properly understand the situation we’re in?” I asked sweetly, pointing to the wolf and vampyre on either side of me. Quinn’s face lost its cockiness, smoothing to a more neutral expression.

“Help me understand the situation you’re in,” he said. “I was tracking a burst of powerful magick that must belong to you. When I identified the vampyre and werewolf, I was concerned you may be in trouble. Hence the—”

“Busting down my door and insulting my guests?”

His eyes flicked to Karl and Luka, then back to me.

“So … they’re not holding you against your will?”

A few hours ago, I might have replied differently, but at the moment I’d say anything to have this strange man leave us alone.

“They made me soup.”

I pointed to the hearth as if that was the grand coup, the absolute declaration of their good intentions toward me. Quinn’s deadpan gaze was unimpressed.

“Alright. It’s just that … virgin witches don’t usually let loose accidental magick unless they’re in trouble. And they’re usually highly guarded by their covens. You seem to be … alone, present company excluded.”

His turquoise-silver eyes were accusing, and I flushed that he knew such intimate information about me. Why did everyone seem to know? Was it stamped on my bloody forehead?

“You’re a mercenary.”

Karl's face was unyielding, and for the first time, I was glad to have him and Luka with me.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Luka snarled and stalked forward, grabbing Quinn by the collar and forcing him up in the air.

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