Witches Get Stitches (Stay a Spell, #3)

by Juliette Cross

“I want to keep you as a friend,” he added. “I’ve seen the broken hearts you leave in your wake.”

“That last kid. What was his name?” “Ben?” “No.” “Darius?” “No.” “Hopper?” “No.” He lifted the needle from my skin again. “How many guys have you dated this year?” “Define dating.” “Exactly. So, no.

The tallest one was a smoking hot, five-alarm fire. His black hair and bronzed skin were a turn-on, but it was more about the way he moved and assessed the place with predatory stealth that sent a delightful shiver along my skin. All the same, there was a sensitivity and gentleness in the lines of his face. I could taste his dominance from here, and yet he was also giving off cinnamon-roll vibes. What a paradox this werewolf was.

Though quite chilly up here, the long sleeves of his button-down were rolled up, revealing intricate black tattoos extending down to his wrists on both arms. That alone piqued my interest.

“Don’t even think about it,” Zaire whispered close behind me. “Why not? Out-of-town hook-ups are the best. No strings attached.” “Not that one.” “You know him?” “A friend of mine does his ink. That’s Nico Cruz, a member of the Blood Moon pack.” “Oooo. He’s in a werewolf ga...

Best to stay away, Vi.” “That may be kind of hard, Z.” “Why’s that?” “He’s coming this way.” Zaire heaved out a sigh, continuing to work on the tattoo as he mumbled, “Leave it to you to draw the most dangerous super in the room.” “I’m gifted like that.”

All the same, the flash of electric green in his eyes made me fully aware his wolf was present, front and center. Those watchful, hypnotic eyes checked me out while I noted the cut of his sharp jaw angling toward a beautiful mouth.

He carried a bottled import in one hand, his other tucked into his pocket. I loved it when werewolves tried to look tame. I might’ve laughed if Zaire hadn’t just warned me about this one.

Maybe that’s why I liked them despite the fact my sister Jules had told us our whole lives to stay away from them. Also, rebellion was stamped into my DNA.

Nico edged closer in front of me, watching Zaire work. Now I could see that his eyes were a deep green, the tiniest starburst of gold ringing his pupil, which flared the slightest bit when he settled his heated gaze on me.

His sensual mouth quirked up on one side. Coupled with the hot look he was aiming at me, I would have known this one was trouble without Zaire’s warning.

While holding his intense gaze, I didn’t miss the widening of the gold starburst in his eyes—a sure sign his wolf was sniffing around at the surface.

“Same price as last time?” I asked, scooping my tank-top back up onto my shoulders. “Two blow jobs and a steak dinner?” Blondie coughed out a laugh where he was leaning against the table. The witches giggled. I swear I heard a deep-throated growl from the big werewolf still standing in my private bubble.

“You’re wrong. I’m not trying to impress you. I want you to see me.” “Why?” I reached out with my magical senses. “We just met.” “And when we did, the earth opened up beneath my feet.”

And a magical wind had just wafted waves and waves of sincerity through me. It was heady. And aggressive. I’d even say seductive. This werewolf was unique.

“Confident.” He tilted his head to the side, cocky smirk on his lovely face. “And werewolves like tangible prizes for their achievements. We’re visceral creatures.”

We’d literally just met within the last half hour, but somehow he was completely right. I felt like I knew him well enough for a little tongue-tangling.

Because whatever this werewolf was, it was my brand of addiction. Zaire wasn’t wrong when he said my sister Jules would kick my ass. Lucky for me, I’d never see this werewolf again.

For the first time since New Year’s Eve, my wolf had chilled the fuck out. My body was at ease. Not because I’d done gigs

like this a hundred times before, but because she was in the room.

It had been too long since I’d soaked her in, enjoyed her stark beauty. Her gaze swept to me, widened in surprise then narrowed. That only made me smile as I leaned close to the mic.

“Well then, my first song goes out to a girl who took my breath away the first night I met her.” More whistles. “Then she bailed on me.” “I wouldn’t do that to you, baby,” said the brazen woman at the high-top.

I was positive she’d thought she’d never see me again. I had no problem with hard-to-get. I was a patient man. And my wolf, he’d have no other, so she was in for a rude awakening.

I wasn’t going anywhere, and I wasn’t going to give up until I got what I wanted. Her.

When I’d said that my cousin, Mateo Cruz, lived here, she’d taken all of five seconds to hire me. That was this morning, and I hadn’t had time to even text Mateo yet.

“You know what isn’t good?” asked Violet, suddenly there beside me, her scent snatching my senses captive with unnatural speed. “This werewolf who’s stalking me.” Smiling, I tipped the beer bottle back and took a swallow, noticing her noticing me. “Stalking?” I swept the room as if looking for the culprit. “That does sound like a problem.”

“I really am sorry for bailing on you that night.” She closed her eyes in misery for a second. “That was seriously shitty of me.” She then lifted her gaze to me with a questioning look. “I’m not going to argue,” I said playfully but meaning it. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her how it had left me in agony for months.

Not because of the blue balls she’d given me, but because I knew the second I kissed her what she was to me. One taste had sealed her into my flesh and bones.

Maybe werewolves were only good enough to toy with. Not date.

I was suddenly relieved I’d already found a place and was putting down some long-term roots because, apparently, this conquest was going to take some time.

I tried to pretend that Nico’s presence in the Cauldron didn’t rattle the living shit out of me. But it so did. That werewolf was fine as fuck, and it would take a freaking miracle for me to keep my ass out of his bed.

Was he the one? Swallowing hard against the exhilarating possibility that the man of my dreams could very well be the devastatingly handsome werewolf singing a soft ballad with a sexy voice and staring at me with those hypnotic eyes, I got my ass to the kitchen. Then I kept myself busy all night.

It was no secret that I enjoyed the hell out of men. But if I didn’t get the sense that they could be the one, I’d moved on pretty damn quickly. To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it in a long-ass time. Not until tonight when Nico looked at me in a way that turned my legs to pudding.

If Aunt Beryl was right—and Aunt Beryl was always right—he wasn’t the one.

Finally, I gathered the cards and put them away, accepting that I’d been wrong. Wasn’t the first or the last time. But it was more than apparent that endings, heartbreak, and chaos were not the cards that would lead to my happily-ever-after.

I stretched out on my bed and sighed at the ceiling, lamenting that Nico wasn’t the one. And knowing he was Mateo’s cousin and now employed at the Cauldron, that put him firmly in the friend zone.

“Sorry, Nico.” And sorry, self. “Friends it is.”

Yes, I was a masochist. I enjoyed pain. Why else would I lay here shirtless beneath Violet Savoie with her hands

on me and unable to move a muscle?

She leaned closer, her nearness, her scent, threatening to choke me. I wanted to touch her. What’s new?...

But I couldn’t, so I kept my arms and hands limp at my sides—claws threatening to come out—while she tattooed a crescent moon surrounded by mystical stars at the top of my right pec. Nope, I just lay there dormant as fuck ...

Then there was Violet. Pretty, foul-mouthed Violet. My unhealthy obsession was tempered only by the brick wall she’d erected when I’d moved to New Orleans. Despite the fact that I could tell our attraction was mutual, she’d solidified our status as friends pretty damn fast.

But my patience was starting to run out. Becoming her business partner was my newest tactic to get closer to her. So here I sat, letting her put her hands on me in a very non-sexual way that had my dick harder than a hammer.

I took a moment to admire her sleek hair she was letting grow longer than usual. This was the first time I’d ever seen her natural color. Her hair was platinum blond down to just below her ears, then dyed pale purple to the tips. Yeah, I knew her real color would be the same as her twin sister, Clara, but for some reason it looked different on her. The blonde softened her hard edges.

She laughed, her gaze sweeping over my chest. Then the mirth shifted to something darker, sweeter. And there it was again. The same lust I’d seen in her eyes before. It was there for a second, then she blinked it away as always. I wasn’t sure why she was fighting this so hard, but I’d let her fight it a bit longer before I took matters into my own hands.

“What’s wrong? Is the tattoo hurting?” I sighed, pulling on the logo shirt. “Not the tattoo.” Sean’s infernal grin as Violet passed out the door caught me by surprise. “Got it bad, eh, wolfie?”

And now I realized why I really hadn’t wanted to come tonight. Because Nico at work was distracting.

There was no question that the man would likely overshadow every lover before and after him if I’d let myself go there, but I was also aware that he was practically family now besides being my business partner.

Also, everyone knew it wasn’t smart to mix business with pleasure. I mean, I wasn’t saying I had a magical pussy or anything, but men had been known to stalk me a time or two after a night in my bed.

He didn’t mean the words for real, but suddenly I was infatuated with that sentence.