Witch For Hire (Witch For Hire 1)

“I think you’re right. Just feel. They’re gone on.” The air is lighter. The ominous feel has gone. It’s no longer a home for ghosts. It’s a building where a tragedy recently occurred. We close out the circle and sit, shaken. Exhaling, I stand. “Let’s smudge. I don’t want anything to come in or be held hostage by what’s happened.”

We pick up the bundles of white sage, light them, and blow the smoke in every nook and cranny, envisioning white light, healing. An hour later we make it back where we started.

“It feels different in here now.” Smiling, Sacha runs her hands over her curls, attempting to work smooth them.

“Lighter,” Fel agrees, a light in her brown eyes that wasn’t there before.

“I think we did exactly what we were supposed to do,” I whisper. I had forgotten the amazing things a group of witches can accomplish when they work together for a cause. Bringing them into this has changed everything. There’s strength in numbers.

“Guys, I think we’re ready to go.”

Seconds later Luz and Marcellus appear, making the girls jump. They chuckle.

“Sorry.” Smiling, Luz shrugs, barely disturbing her off the shoulder black shirt.

“You’ll get used to it,” I promise.

“I don’t know if that comforts me or not,” Sacha mumbles.

Marcellus barks a rusty laugh. My eyes widen. Who knew he could express joy.

He clears his throat.“We should get you ladies back to the house.”

As we leave the building behind I’m filled with determination. This cannot happen again. The horrific screams will stay with me for as long as I live. I can’t afford to have another set on my conscious. She won this battle with an ambush, but I aim to win the war.

Chapter Sixteen

Four cups of French press and I still feel like a zombie. I rub the grit out of my eyes. There’s been no sign of the witch, and everyone’s on edge. I’ve been scouring my Grimoire to find anything that might help and researching the property the B&B sits on.

“You should get some rest.” Cristobal kisses my temple.

I allow myself a moment to lean against him at the kitchen island.“I’ll rest when all this is over,” I mumble.

Cristobal wraps his arms around me, and I lean back into his chest. I have a king-sized memory foam I paid a small fortune for, but I rest best these days when we’re sharing a bed. This situation is letting me get used to things that freak me out. We’re working through our issues, but at the moment we’re running on fumes. It’s been one thing after another since I arrived. It’s no way to rekindle a relationship marred by mistrust and forced will. I inhale his scent. It doesn’t mean I care for him any less. The younger me would’ve thrown herself into this head first, heart on her sleeve. I’ve learned a lot since those days.

“What do you have planned today?”

“I like the way you pretend you’re not a stalker who knows my schedule already.”

“With all that’s going on, I felt it wise to know where you’ll be and when.”

“Don’t get your fangs in a twist. It’s kind of adorable, old man.” I tilt my head back and grin as he scowls.

“Darling, don’t tell me our age difference bothers you.” I place a hand over my heart. “I’m a modern woman. What’re a few centuries between significant others?”

He lunges forward, capturing my lips. My laughter turns to moans. Gripping my hips, he lifts me onto the kitchen counter, and I part my legs, letting him walk between my thighs. I toy with the soft

hair at his nape. He’s more stimulating than the caffeine I guzzled. I hook my ankles, squeezing his waist playfully, and he pulls me to the edge, as close as we can get.

For a moment I allow myself to get lost in the slickness of his mouth and the skillful ministrations of his tongue. My head is swimming. Time slows, and only the man in front of me exists. He feeds me energy and support, and I suck it up like the greedy girl I’ve become when running with my tank on E. A throat clears. I moan as we part.

“You do realize we serve food off there, right?” Marcellus’s deadpans.

The wide grin makes me roll my eyes. I clear my throat. “I need to get going, anyway.”

“I wonder how much you value your head some days,” Cristobal mutters.

I giggle. “Don’t be so grumpy. Maybe you need a nap.”