Some Like it Wicked

“Why?”

He frowned. “I want to see why you’ve disowned the part of you that makes you who you are.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he nudged her forward with a slap on her ass. “Off you go.”

She yelped and jumped forward, but quickly turned back to him. “I’ll do this only once. After this is over, you’ll never ask me again, right?”

He liked how she implied he’d have the chance to keep asking, which meant more time together. But he wouldn’t let her off that easy. Instead of answering her directly, he said, “I want an hour.”

Her eyes widened. “An hour?”

“That’s right.”

She cursed a very colorful word at him, then spun on her heels. It surprised him, knowing what she’d been through, that she wanted to please him by doing as he asked. He doubted she trusted easily and it honored him she extended such faith toward him, making him grin like a damn fool.

As she strode toward the center of the field, he pondered why this witch made him react on such an emotional level. He truly wanted to see her well—wanted her to find a home in Charmstone and be happy in her life. Was he doing this for himself, to finally save a soul worth saving instead of devouring it?

There was that.

What better way to prove to himself he had wholeheartedly rejected his demonic roots than to save a soul that was an easy target, considering her weak state. Still, something more existed there—a deeper desire to make her happy for entirely personal reasons.

When she turned back to him, staring at him with those enchanting eyes and even more bewitching smile, he knew why she captivated him. He could care for her. He enjoyed her personality, wanted to get to know her better and more than anything, wanted to spend every minute with her.

Only problem?

How did she feel about him?

She had seemed to use sex with him as a way to make her forget her pain. Was that all he was to her, a rebound fuck? Could she see herself dating a demon? He wouldn’t count himself that lucky.

Holding his gaze, she backed away from him and kept on going. He regarded her, then he realized her intention. She put distance between them to protect him from her magic. He chuckled, finding her concern endearing. Even with perfect defensive magic, she wouldn’t have the power to take his life.

Once she stopped, he saw her shoulders lift as she heaved a sigh, then she called, “What do you want me to do?”

He didn’t know much of what witches could do with their magic, except the basic knowledge they could conjure spells. But since her element was earth, he figured to stay within those boundaries. “Make a flower.”

Her expression became pinched and he saw her lips moving, no doubt another curse, then she shut her eyes. Only a second passed before the air picked up around her, fluttering her hair around her face.

He had seen witches conjure magic before, but he didn’t have an emotional investment in any of those witches and Bryanna’s beauty stunned him. Shifting on his feet, he adjusted his now semi-hard-on in his pants, continuing to watch her. He suspected she wouldn’t produce a flower, yet he didn’t know what would show up and wondered if skin care products were all her magic delivered.

After a gust of wind rushed through the field, she opened her eyes and he took a few steps forward, sure his eyes were misleading him. As he settled closer to her, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw, and without thought, he burst out laughing.

Bryanna glared down at the cheetah-print chair resembling a high-heeled shoe, then she raised her narrowed eyes to him. “If you’re going to laugh at me, I’m so not doing this.”

Raising his hands in surrender, he tried to restrain his laughter, but failed miserably. Of all the things he thought she would conjure, such a strange piece of furniture hadn’t been what he expected. “You cannot deny the amusement here.”

“Sure, I can.” She folded her arms and continued to scowl. “There’s nothing funny about my magic. It’s ridiculous.”

“All perception,” he reminded her gently.

Was Bryanna a classic witch? Far from it, but that’s what made her special.

He simply needed to find a way for her to see her gifts were a blessing and not a flaw. “Does your magic always come out with no sense of order?” At her nod, he considered her talents, then asked, “If you tried again, would you get the same chair or something different?”

She stared at the chair in pure disgust before she shrugged at him. “No idea. I’ve never tested the theory.”

“Test it, then.”

Rolling her eyes, she gave him another curse, then conjured her magic in the same way he’d witnessed only a moment ago. When the wind ceased, Zeke bit his lip hard to avoid laughing as he stared down at two matching steel tables, both in the same high-heeled shoe design.

“There,” she spat. “Satisfied?”