Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell, #2)

by Juliette Cross

“Aren’t vampires supposed to have superhuman eyesight? Say, to avoid hitting an innocent traveler on the road?” His nostrils flared as he inhaled a deep breath. Recognition shone in his eyes. His charming smile slipped, his expression changing to…amused interest? “Aren’t witches supposed to have telekinetic powers? Say, to avoid being hit by cars?” For a moment, I was completely distracted by the smooth, deep timbre of his voice and his subtle accent. Indian, definitely, but something more. The slow, intentional care of each word reminded me of a professor from Russia I had in college. His accent was strong and soft at the same time. This vampire’s was similar, liquid and lilting with an undercurrent of firm control. Casual dominance. If there was such a thing. His gaze traveled down my body, taking in my forest green Boho skirt and navy blue top. “And why are you riding a bike at night wearing such dark colors, Mistress Witch?”

“My name is Devraj Kumar.” “I’ve never seen you around here.” “I’ve just arrived in town. I’m a friend of Ruben Dubois. Surely, you know him if you’re a local witch.” Ruben Dubois? The overlord of vampires in New Orleans? Uh, yeah, I knew him. “You know Ruben?” He pulled out his cell from his back pocket and dialed a number, holding the phone up to his ear. Within three seconds, he said, “Yeah, I had an incident.” His dark eyes fixed on me. “An accident, actually. My fault. I hit a witch on her bike.” He pivoted away so I couldn’t see his face. “Shut up, man. No, she’s fine. Well, except for her ankle. Will you tell her I won’t kidnap or kill her so she’ll let me take her home?”

“All right.” Then he swept me up into his arms, one arm under my knees, the other cradling my back. “Wait! What are you doing? Put me down!” “I’m getting you in the car without you injuring yourself further.” “I don’t like this,” I ground out, pressing my scratched palms to his white shirt, then jerked them back, realizing I’d likely stain it. Whatever he was wearing, it was expensive. “Please put me down.” “I will. Inside the car, Isadora. Isadora what, by the way?” “Savoie,” I muttered, gritting my teeth, my nerves fracturing on multiple levels. “Your ankle is injured, and you can’t walk. You certainly can’t ride your bike.”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t plan to hit a witch with my car today.” He shifted the gear stick into first and accelerated down the street. “It was on the agenda for tomorrow.” Pausing, I looked over at him, his gaze fixed forward but his mouth ticked up with a wicked smirk. “Well.” I folded the used wipes and put them in a Ziploc bag I had in my handbag to dispose of later. “I’m so happy I was able to get you ahead of schedule. Nothing better than ticking off your to-do list early.”

“Do you have something against blondes?” I prepared myself for a dumb blonde joke or something else equally offensive. What I wasn’t prepared for was his sultry reply. “Not at all, darling. I’m a lover of all women.” His gaze caressed my face, shimmering with silver in the dark interior of his car. “I don’t discriminate.”

“Let me get this straight.” A shocked laugh belted up my throat. “You speed down an unfamiliar road, hit someone with your Porsche, send her flying into the air, injure her ankle, break her expensive, imported plant, and then decide to flirt with her?” He muttered a curse in another language, but when he spoke, he was all silky sensuality like before. “First of all, love. This is not a Porsche. This is a Diablo GT Lamborghini, one of the finest Italian cars money can buy.” His tilted smile might as well have added silly little girl. “Second, why are you so sure this is an unfamiliar road to me? I could live right around the corner.”

“I should be going.” He rounded the sofa and leaned over, taking my hand in his. “It was a pleasure bumping into you.” “Really?” I snapped, a little too much venom in my voice. He stifled a laugh. Just barely. “Truly.” He squeezed my hand with both of his, then he removed a card from his pocket and handed it over to me. “I’ll deliver your bicycle to you as soon as possible. And replace your phone.” “I have phone insurance,” I said again, staring at the white card with just his name in bold print and his phone number. “Then send me the bill for the deductible. I take full responsibility for this accident.”

So what had I spent the day doing? In between unpacking, I’d stalked the laundry room like a crazed serial killer. I must’ve marched past it a hundred times, trying to avoid the temptation in my laundry basket. “Fuck it.” I finally, finally, lifted the stained part to my nose and inhaled deep. Utterly. Divine. Abort. Bad decision. Very bad decision.

If there was a whiff of her scent left on that shirt, I’d have to burn it.

That was me. I was Mr. Darcy. Introverted, shy, and nervous in large crowds and around strangers. Except the difference between me and Mr. Darcy was that I had no desire to grow outside my small social circle. Content with everyone on this side of my comfort zone, I definitely had no interest in expanding it to include this vampire.

“I do need something,” he finally answered, the sun glinting off something silver in his mouth. “What is it?” My gaze was solely focused on his mouth now, realizing with a rush of heat that his tongue was pierced. “Your forgiveness.”

“Would you please accept my apology?” “For what exactly?” I tilted my head as if I had no idea what that might be. My heart pounded far too fast, making my voice shaky. But I’d gotten my ass handed to me more than once the past few days from my sisters over me and my bicycle, so I actually wanted to hear this apology to the fullest. He clasped his hands tighter, glancing down at them before spearing me with an intense expression fixed with compassion. “For hitting you with my car. You were right.” His voice dropped soft and deep, a combination I didn’t particularly like coming from him. “It was entirely my fault. I’d been driving too many hours without rest, which is no excuse, but I must’ve lost my concentration on the road. So, I apologize for causing you any harm or distress.” Hmm. Well, that was a pretty damn good apology, I had to admit. Satisfied, I wiped my right hand on my already dirty pants and held it out to him. “Apology accepted.”

“Did you just…?” He paused and pointed toward Fred retreating back to the coop in the back. ”Did you just use magic to extend life to a rooster?”

😂

“Apology accepted. And now our business is at an end. I doubt we’ll have any reason to see each other, so I wish you well.” And I honestly did. Even cocky bastards like him needed well-wishing from time to time. “I still have to return your bike.” His discerning and unsettling gaze swept over my face. “Not a problem. Just prop it under the garage.” No need for interaction of any kind. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around the neighborhood.” “Not likely.” I rocked on my heels, waiting for him to excuse himself and leave. I wasn’t going to be that rude and kick him out. But I was eyeing the greenhouse and thinking of bolting to my hiding space if he lingered much longer. He eased forward in that vampire way of his, sidling closer without being seen doing so. He tugged on a strand of my hair that dangled against my arm, then let go just as quickly. I frowned and stepped back, definitely ready to escape to my greenhouse. But by then he was turning away, muttering under his breath, “We’ll see.”

The only one with more power than the Stygorn was a Siphon witch like Jules. Except the Stygorn’s level of power also gave them the ability to evade and/or harm Siphons by stealth.

Clara ran Maybelle’s, but I handled the inventory and bookkeeping. Livvy took care of the marketing and promotions for both the shop and the bar. Violet and Evie waitressed at the Cauldron while Jules was the chef.

“I feel like I should buy you dinner or something.” He flicked a hand, seemingly frustrated with the words coming out of his mouth. “To make up for the whole incident.” “That’s not necessary.” “I feel like I owe you.” “But you really don’t,” I explained with a shake of my head. The idea of spending an entire meal alone with him shot my pulse off like a rocket. “Lunch?” “No, thank you. I’m busy.” “Every day this week?” “Yes.” “You never eat lunch?” “I eat lunch,” I injected with a touch of annoyance. “But I prefer to get something from the Cauldron. It’s fast and easy.” “Ah.” He bit his lower lip, drawing my eyes to the movement and the smile he held back. “I see.” “What?” I asked, wondering why I felt so disoriented and confused in this vampire’s presence. “You just don’t want to have lunch with me.” Bingo. But I’d never tell him so. I shook my head vigorously, licking my lips nervously. “It’s not that. I mean, I’m busy. You’re busy. I’m sure a Stygorn like yourself has plenty of work to do.” His smile widened. “You’ve been asking about me?” “My sister Jules told me why you were here.” “Is that what makes you so nervous around me?” “Look, I’ve got to go.” Evasive maneuvers. I glanced over his shoulder, ready to be on my way. “Is it my acting career that bothers you?” Not that I’d seen his movies, but the idea of him being a celebrity actually made me cringe. To have your life under a microscope where everyone watched you, wanted something from you. The thought of hanging w...

Poor guy

“Honestly, I’m a little disappointed you’d try to lure me with glamour,” I admitted on a huffy breath, watching a woman walk past with her Golden Labradoodle leading her. So cute! I was ready to be done with this conversation and be on my way, but I couldn’t help asking, “Isn’t that kind of beneath your stature as a celebrity and elite vampire?” His mouth dropped open in surprise, but laughter still shone in his eyes. “I was attempting to lure you to lunch, not to my dark lair for nefarious reasons.” “So you say,” I mumbled before quickly darting around him, my skirt swishing. “Have a good day, Mr. Kumar.”

Grims weren’t witches, even though some called them sorcerers, but their magic was similar to Auras like Isadora’s sister, Clara. But whereas Auras pumped only positive emotions into others, grims did the opposite. It wasn’t always negative emotions, exactly, but darker ones.

Why was she so offended by my presence? I was a likeable guy, dammit. There was the fact I’d hit her with my car. True. I found her fascinating. Was it because she seemed to want to flee my presence the second we were ever alone? I wasn’t sure. Something about her made me want to know her better. Yes, I was accustomed to people liking me. Especially women. But Isadora Savoie did not, that was for sure. And now, this fucking list of hers. I pulled it out of my back pocket and then started the engine, wanting to take a look at her pros and cons list of “Devraj Egomaniac Kumar.” I was not an egomaniac. Just because I was better at just about everything than the average person or supernatural didn’t mean I was an egomaniac. Huffing a sigh, I read to myself. Pros: Nice physique, but typical of most vampires really Somewhat considerate—after he runs people over with his expensive car Charming—but kind of over-the-top with it (note to vampire: stop trying so hard) Pretty hair I grinned. She thought my hair was pretty? Then I frowned. That was the only thing she didn’t have a negative addendum tacked onto her pseudo-compliments. I sped the few blocks down Magazine Street but stopped for the red light next to Mystic Maybelle’s. I reread the rest of the list then. Cons: Exceedingly superior and full of himself Needs to be the center of attention Too rich, clothes too fancy; obviously overcompensating for something Ridiculously expensive car and social media pics point to SPS Followi...

Isadora was intriguing. And funny, even when she didn’t intend to be. The sight of her this morning, her face fresh and bare, her walk light and free, her clothes casual but pretty in that Bohemian way. That’s when it hit me what it was about her. She wore no masks of any kind and a no-nonsense attitude with pride. There was no artifice to her at all. Living in a world where everyone around me had mastered the art of deception, I couldn’t help but find her compelling. A strange creature I hadn’t met before. One whose forthright and honest outlook made me want to stop and take note. To look. And linger.

“You didn’t try to drug me or anything, did you?” He belted out a laugh. “No, I would never do something like that.” “Then why are you staring at me?” “If I said it was because I find you extraordinarily beautiful, would you believe me?” His smile was teasing but his eyes were serious.

“Passable, eh?” He reached up with his hand that had been resting on the back of the bench and twirled then tugged a loose strand of hair that had fallen from my bun. “I’ll have to up my tea game next time.”

Did he do something to my new vibrator? He wouldn’t. Easily tearing open the box, I pulled out Big John still perfectly sealed in its original packaging, but then my eye caught something at the bottom of the box. A DVD movie? Covering the DVD was a sticky note with masculine scrawl scripted in a more-than-pretty hand: In case you need some help to accompany your new toy. –Sincerely, Devraj I pulled off the sticky note and read the title, Dilwala Deewana. And who should be starring in this sensual Bollywood movie? Yep. You guessed it.

“It feels odd, I’m told.” She dropped my arms. Her eyes glittered bright like stars in the wake of using her magic. I pressed my hands to my chest. “It’s agony.” She laughed, her head tossing back a little. “She’s laughing at my pain,” I said to Ruben. “Been there. Done that.” Her laughter faded and she glared at Ruben before giving me a pat on the bicep. “Don’t worry, Stygorn. You’ll be as good as new in just about four hours.” She jerked open the heavy service door and called back as she walked through, “Send me a report, Ruben.” “Yes, your majesty,” he muttered

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” I felt the words brush against my bare neck, my hair twisted up in a bun. He was so close that when I spun around, I nearly fell forward right into Devraj. He caught me by the arms. Oh, my God!

I could’ve stared at the woman all night. Isadora remained silent and focused inward. Her magic whispered in the small space of the interior of Ruben’s car. It felt like a sweet lullaby, a song of old, like footsteps on wooded paths taken only by her, lilting with waves of potent energy that cocooned the witch at my side. If I could reach out and touch that magic that was hers, I would. I wanted to drink it down and absorb her beauty. My God, she was so beautiful, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she was truly aware. It was her frank honesty that took my breath away. In everything she did. After her last rejection of my company at my quaint front-porch tea, I figured she truly was immune to my charms. As unbelievable as that was, I was thinking of giving up my pursuit. But not fucking now. After seeing her reaction to watching my movie, there was no possible way I was letting this go. Before she’d noticed we were in the room, I’d had at least thirty seconds to catalogue her surprising reaction to watching me onscreen. Chest heaving with deep breaths, her heartrate galloping at a racer’s pace, the sweat shimmering across the back of her neck and the edge of her hairline, but most importantly the scent of her arousal was too strong to hide. She was turned on. By me.

This scintillating witch was burrowing under my skin, and she was utterly clueless to the power she wielded over me. I stared at her, her head tilted back against the leather seat, her delicate fingers clasped in her lap. Her irresistible aura sang to my bones, beckoning me to inch closer. To smell and touch and taste.

I finally looked over at Isadora and put a light hand on her arm, not wanting to scare her. “Isadora. We’re here,” I murmured softly. Her eyes opened, then she looked at me and did something rather uncharacteristic in my short acquaintance with her. She smiled at me. And my heart nearly plummeted into my stomach.

Christ. One smile, and I was devastated. Lost. Swimming in an ocean of what-the-fuck.

“It was a pleasure spending time with you tonight, Miss Savoie.” She was staring off at Ruben’s taillights disappearing down the street, then turned to me and laughed. “You’re such a liar.” “I’m not,” I protested, smiling at her smiling. I couldn’t help myself. “I don’t even know what that was, but it was not a pleasurable evening.” “For me, it was. I enjoyed your company immensely.”

“Devraj. Please. I want to be there. I want to help these girls any way I can. I need to. I have to.” Desperation sang from her fingertips, pushing into me. I covered her dainty hand with my own larger one, pressing it close above my heart, warming it beneath my palm. Her mouth opened on a tiny gasp, staring at our hands on my chest as if she didn’t realize she’d even put it there. I wanted to lean forward and devour her lovely mouth, but that’s not what she needed from me right now. She trembled with a heady combination of despair and desire to help these women. If I could ease her pain, her need, no matter what she wanted, I would. Gripping the back of her neck, I pulled her to me and pressed her cheek to my chest, then whispered to her temple, “Okay. Don’t worry.” Her hair tickled my cheek. I couldn’t help but press my mouth to the crown of her head with a comforting kiss. “I’ll take you.”

Her slender body pressed to mine felt like holding home in my arms. I knew then that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Isadora Savoie. It also dawned on me that it was getting harder and harder to fool myself. What I wanted with this beautiful witch was anything but casual.

“Bellingrath is from an old New Orleans family. Not only that, his father Harold is well-connected politically, both in the human world and the supernatural one. His wife is a witch. Marianne Baxter.” Ruben gave me a meaningful look. “Her sister is Clarissa Baxter.” “Shit,” Devraj muttered. “Indeed.” Clarissa Baxter was the head of the Witch’s Guild over all of the districts in the southeast United States. She was well-respected and a mentor to my sister, Jules.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he commented as he opened the front gate leading to our porch. “Just thinking.” “I gathered that.” He chuckled. Before I could step up to the porch, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to face him. Those rich mahogany eyes burned, flaming over my cheeks and down my neck then back up to meet my gaze. “Are you upset?” he asked softly. Sweetly. “No.” His tender tone made something ache beneath my ribcage. “You seem so.” “And you’re an expert on my moods now?” “I’m an observant man.” His hand slipped from mine to wrap around my neck. “And observing what makes you laugh or frown, what makes your heart beat faster.” His thumb brushed my pulse. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.” He eased closer, his voice dropping to an intimate caress. He slid his hand at my nape to cup my jaw, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip. “And you tend to fidget with the hem of your shirt when you’re anxious.” His other hand gripped mine where I did indeed have hold of my hem. He laced our fingers together, his broad palm against my smaller one. Heart drumming like mad, I stared up at him, reveling in the sensuous feel of his thumb sweeping over my mouth. I wasn’t a liar, so I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want that, too. Afraid to take that plunge, I simply stepped back until his hand dropped away, mourning that tactile loss. “Goodnight, Devraj.”

“If you’re looking for a ripe one, then take this one.” A large dark hand with long, well-manicured fingers reached in front of me and picked up one of the strange-looking fruit. My breath caught in my throat as I twisted to face Devraj. I blinked a few times, not prepared for his dazzling smile this morning. It didn’t irritate me like it usually did. Rather, I couldn’t help notice the way his lips were so well-shaped and wondered how those lips and his canines had made a woman come without him touching any other part of her. “It’s lovely to see you,” he said, his voice lower, deeper than his usual light-hearted, teasing tone. That’s when I realized I was still staring at his mouth. And he’d noticed. “Oh.” I shook my head.

didn’t choose to be a vampire. So yes, I drink blood. To stay strong. To stay alive. But I do not take lives.” Then he turned to me, his amber eyes fixed heatedly on me. “Open up, Isadora.” I swear to you, I didn’t think he was talking about my shopping bag. Stunned for a few seconds, I blinked my surprise away and opened the bag. He set two more jackfruit inside, his gaze never leaving my face. Fixed and piercing. And now it was time for me to go.

“Are you hungry?” he asked from right behind me as I checked out. I shook my head. My traitorous stomach took that moment to let out a ridiculously loud rumble. “Your stomach says otherwise. How about I take you and your stomach out for brunch?”

Rather than take my car since Isadora gave me the stink-eye when I offered her a ride, I joined her while she walked her bike the two short blocks to Gris Gris. We settled into a table on the upper balcony overlooking Magazine Street since it was such a beautiful day. The umbrella-style awning over the table blocked out the heat of the sun, and the breeze coming off the Mississippi River in the near distance made this the perfect spot for my first date with Isadora Savoie. Make no mistake. Whether she knew it or not, this was a date.

I couldn’t help but bask in the flush of pink that filled her cheeks. Why that statement would cause her to blush, I have no idea. But she blushed over the smallest of things, I’d noticed. Still, she was talking much easier than usual, so I tried to keep that going. I wanted her to feel more at ease with me. For some reason, she seemed so today. “And you’re happy to have your bicycle back? It rides okay?” Her green eyes brightened. “Like nothing had happened to it at all.” She smiled so wide my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” she added timidly. “Especially for the wheel reflectors.” “Safety first,” I said with a wink and sipped my Bloody Mary. She had no idea but I’d ordered the biggest, brightest, safest reflectors possible to go on her bike. In addition, I’d made sure to replace her tires with wide-rimmed ones for easier balance and durability. The thought of something happening to Isadora, of her getting hurt again, had my protective instincts on high alert. It was in that moment at the bike shop where I’d interrogated the guy behind the counter over every detail of the new safety features that I realized I’d never been this insanely protective over a woman before. Without any attempt on her part, I was completely entranced.

This was no fly-by fascination. This was hardcore witchery. Oddly, she wasn’t flirting or being overtly friendly or doing anything other women have done to lure me in. She was simply being her lovely self.

“I’m a safe driver.” She huffed a laugh. “Do I need to remind you that you hit me with your car?” I leaned forward on the table, not bothered by that little fact at all. “But I had been driving for a day and a half straight. And it was quite dark. And you have to admit, you were wearing dark clothing.” “You’re right,” she agreed after a moment. “Though it pains me to have hurt you in any way, I have to admit I’m quite happy that I did hit you that night,” I said, letting my voice drop low. “Not that I hit you, just that I met you.”

Our waiter delivered our appetizer, postponing my interrogation. I watched her face when she noticed the lettuce sprinkled around the fried oysters was arugula. She looked at me with an appreciative smile, and there it went again. My pulse tripled just from making her smile. There’d been a lot of things that made my pulse quicken over the ages, but a woman’s smile hadn’t been one of them. Till now.

“So why aren’t you dating? Finding a man to fill certain needs instead of Big John?” “That’s kind of personal.” She forked another oyster onto her serving plate with a small pile of arugula. “I don’t mean to pry.” “Yes, you do,” she said with a tilt of the head and a casual smile. “I can’t help it. I’m naturally curious about you.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a sip of water, avoiding my gaze for a few seconds. “I don’t know. I don’t date much.” Very closed off about that. Okay. “Who was the last guy you dated?” I expected her to shut me down and veer to another conversation, but she surprised me. “A witch from Metairie. We dated a little while.” She shrugged that same shoulder, bringing my gaze to the curve of exposed skin. It looked so soft. I bet it was. “He wasn’t a nice guy?” “No. He was nice. Very nice.” “Your enthusiasm is so convincing,” I goaded sarcastically. She smiled. “Honestly? I just got bored.” “So no sparks in the sack?” “Devraj,” she hissed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder at the only other couple out here who were far too engrossed in their mimosas and conversation to hear us. “That’s none of your business.”

“It’s just that I’m a private person, and I’m very particular about who I date and who I allow in my bed.” She couldn’t look me in the eye, but she went on. “Sometimes it’s just easier to rely on myself.” She sipped her Bloody Mary again before adding matter-of-factly, “I can take care of myself just fine.” She meant take care of her own pleasure just fine. My pants grew tighter while I imagined taking care of her in my own way. “I’m sure you can.” The waiter cleared the table and set down her house salad. While she busied herself mixing the greens and dressing, I leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. “But I’d like to apply for the job.”

“I imagine you think you could do better than Big John,” she teased, trying to lighten the heaviness hovering between us. But I wasn’t ready to let this go. Not even close. “Maybe not. He could join the party if you like.” I licked my lips before whispering intimately, “Actually, I think that would be a fantastic idea.” For a split second, a flash of both surprise and excitement crossed her features. The tell-tale blush coloring her cheeks, neck, and chest proved she was definitely thinking about my offer. She sipped her water and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?” “Deadly.” I held her gaze, green eyes swamping with heat. “Give me one night, and I’ll prove it to you.”

She truly was a sensual creature. The delight in her eyes and widening of her smile expressed her pleasure before she’d even taken a bite. Yet again, I wondered what it might be like to be the cause of her pleasure. “Would you like a bite?” she asked, as I watched her eat like a starving man. Little did she know, I wasn’t starving for her food. “Sure.” She pushed her plate across the table for me to reach. Lifting my untouched fork, I took a bite of her shrimp and grits. “Very good. Would you like to try mine?” “Even Jules’s fancy French toast doesn’t look that good.” I cut a bite with my fork. “It’s the blueberry Bourbon syrup. Prepare to be wowed.” I held the bite across the table for her to take. She frowned at my attempt to share a bite from my fork. I wiggled my fork and raised my eyebrows. Honestly, I was one hundred percent positive she was going to refuse to eat from my own hand, but I liked pushing her buttons. I prepared for a snappy protest, but then she leaned forward and opened her mouth. Bloody hell. I slid the bite inside and watched as she chewed and licked the syrup off her lips. That was a really bad idea. I could barely breathe, wanting to lean across and taste the syrup from her mouth. “You’re right. I’m wowed.” Then she continued eating her meal like she hadn’t just punched me in the gut with an explosion of lust. We were quiet a little while. Her enjoying her meal. Me wanting to pull her across the table into my lap and eat her for my next meal. Oh, f...

I’d wanted and sated my hungers with many women over the ages. This craving felt different. I didn’t just want her body, or her blood, if I was to be completely honest with myself. Just being in her presence, soaking up her smiles and sweet company, was feeding a hunger I didn’t realize I had.

I realized that my shy girl only opened up like this for people she trusted. A fact that had warmth blooming in the center of my chest.

“You don’t enjoy my company?” I teased. That pretty pink color flushed her cheeks again as she leveled me with those green eyes. “It’s not that either.” “So you admit you do enjoy my company. Love it, in fact, right?” She laughed. “You really are incorrigible.” “So I’m told. Repeatedly. By a very pretty witch.”