Page 4 of The Forty-Year-Old Virgin Witch

The man snorted. “I haven’t heard that term in ages. You witches always did love your Latin. Most people just say werewolf, though others say—”

“Wet dog.”

We both jumped as Karl strode through the front door, his face tingedred with anger. The lykos—werewolf—rolled his eyes.

“My name is Luka.”

I didn’t care if he was the bloody queen at the moment.

“How did you cross my wards?”

Karl looked down, and the figure of a black cat darted between his legs.

“DAMON!”

Luka started laughing, and even Karl had to squash an inappropriate grin. Damon fled to the other side of the cottage and disappeared under my bed. If Damon was able to let the vampyre in, then it was unlikely he meant me harm. Nevertheless, I’d deal with my traitorous familiar later.

“What did I tell you? Witches and Latin—”

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH IN MY COTTAGE?”

A small flare of power burst through my kitchen, though neither of them seemed phased by it. If anything, a strange gleam appeared in their eyes. I hurriedly pulled my magick back in and backed away from them. Luka sniffed the air and frowned.

“I brought you beer—”

“Oh, like she’ll believe you didn’t coerce that human into giving you that job—”

“Shut up bloodsucker.”

“How original.”

A headache bloomed underneath my temple as the two of them bickered like schoolboys.

“Tell me what you want, or I’m going to banish you both from the property, and then strengthen the wards.” I directed the last statement at Luka, who flushed red.

“Fine,” he began, though with a worried glance at Karl. “I don’t know what the bloodsucker here wants, but I’m looking for a mate.”

The jug of beer on the table shattered as my magick hit it. Karl reared back, horrified by Luka’s admission.

“You animal, you can’t just tell her—”

Luka flushed again but held firm. “And why not? At least I’m honest about it! Are you gonna sit here and say you’re not looking for a mate?”

Karl hissed. In the blink of an eye, he had the beer cleaned up and the glass disposed of in the trash. I blinked again, and he was sitting at the table. I resisted the urge to shake my head.

“Vampyres don’t need mates, I need a … someone … oh get that stupid grin off your face!”

Luka snorted, and I cleared my throat. They both froze, watching me. It was unnerving to be the absolute focus of not only one gorgeous man, but two. I took a deep breath.

“I am not in the market for … whatever it is you want. Get out.”

Karl jerked and disappeared from the table. I heard him yelling from outside the property line, and I flashed Luka a malicious grin. He held up both hands in surrender.

“Alright, I get it. I’m going.”

As his delectable backside sauntered out of my cottage, a small part of my brain whined in protest. Why did I have to be such a killjoy all the time? Would it kill me to actually be friendly for once?

Yes. Yes. It could. And that was all that mattered.

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