Page 58 of The Forty-Year-Old Virgin Witch

Twenty Three

Luka

I had never been more excited and enraged to smell someone in my entire life than when I scented decray and dust. Karl stormed into the house, the bizarre sight of Quinn in his arms something I had to put aside for the moment.

“We're out back in the garden!”

Karl dropped Quinn—who groaned in protest—and burst through the back door.

“Hurry, she just passed out.”

I reluctantly handed Aggie over to him, my inner wolf not entirely happy about putting our mate in the hands of the one whose fault this was.

But Karl held her gently, his hands ghosting over her shoulders and tenderly cupping her face. He touched his forehead to hers.

“If I don’t stop drinking after ten seconds, physically remove me. Then ensure I lick the bites. That’s the only way to heal her.”

“Ok,” I whispered back, praying I wouldn’t have to kill him if he attacked Aggie in the same way he’d savaged that witch. Kill a vampyre? Who was I kidding? Karl could kill us all without breaking a sweat.

“I’m sorry,” Karl whispered, then bit down delicately into her neck.

Aggie’s eyes shot open, and she made a whining sound of pain. Karl’s eyes turned bright red, both the iris and pupil disappearing in a scarlet haze. My wolf raged at me to do something, so I started counting.

1, 2, 3...

Aggie’s arms came up to Karl’s hands, trying in vain to push him off—to fight back. Karl ignored her, his grip tight and unrelenting. My body vibrated with the urge to help her, but I forced myself to stay rooted to the spot.

4, 5, 6…

The warlock stumbled out in the garden, looking drunk as he nearly fell on his face. I couldn’t spare any thoughts for him. Not when I had my task. Aggie had passed out, whether from pain or blood loss, I was unsure.

7, 8, 9…

“TEN!” I shouted, and to my immense relief, Karl pushed himself off of Aggie with a herculean effort. He dove down again to her neck and licked the fang marks, healing them before my eyes. Then he shoved himself away, his back hitting a large tree. He practically glowed with magick as he gripped the white wooden fence between his hands. With a roar, magick exploded around the property, sizzling into intense wards that made the hairs on my arm stand on end.

“What did you do?” Quinn asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

“Magick can’t be destroyed or created. Only transferred.” Karl gasped out, his body shuddering as he the backwash of magick was expelled from his body.

He sat heavily on the ground once more.

“Is she...is she ok?” I asked hesitantly.

Karl pressed into his hands, and I nodded. Quinn slowly approached, holding his hands out over Aggie. Her back arched off the ground toward his arms as he jolted her into consciousness, and she started crying. Quinn gave me a nod, and I gathered her in my arms.

“Shh … it’s ok. It’s over.”

Her arms latched around my neck, tears trailing down her face.

I whirled toward Quinn, tamping down my wolf’s urge to throttle him for answers now that Aggie was safe. One thing at a time.

“Why are you here?” I demanded from Quinn. My wolf still saw him as a threat, so he would have to be taken care of first.

Quinn frowned, the bags under his eyes more pronounced. “What?”

“You … you covered for Karl. Didn’t you?” It was the only thing that made sense.

“I … yes.” Quinn’s brows furrowed as he hurriedly tried to cover the alarm that had briefly flashed across his face. Perhaps he was just realizing exactly what it was he had done. I resisted the urge to chuckle, the lightbulb going off in my head. Even if Quinn hadn’t figured it out yet, or he was unwilling to admit it. Just like the vamp and I, he’d fallen under the same spell Aggie had cast on us. I grinned stupidly. Spells. Witches.

---