The Bone Witch (The Osseous Chronicles, #1)

by Ivy Asher

I’m so ready for a glass of wine, my just big enough tub, and some Witcher. Lord knows I need a healthy dose of Henry Cavill in my life to remind me why I shouldn’t look into becoming a lesbian.

Yasssss 💅🏽

The overwhelming scent of rotten eggs fills the car, and I groan and cover my nose with my shirt. I glare at Hoot, who couldn’t give two shits about the ass bombs he keeps dropping.

😂😂😂😂

“Tedas ruk shaw aus forin ve Osteomancer. Ise hiruse ou fooiq tork shin iei.”

Hoot rubbed himself all over my dirty underwear while I was in the shower this morning. The only thing he smells like is eau de mon vagina.

“They stole the grimoire.” “Those rat-faced... Maaaaa! Get in the car, we gotta go!”

Lmaoo it's on 😂😂

Hoot rips a fart so loud and rumbling it would make a Harley Davidson motor jealous. I scrunch up my face and immediately throw my arm over my nose to protect it from the assault I know is coming. Rogan gets hit by the noxious fumes first, and he scrambles away, a dry heave working its way up his throat. I move as upwind as I possibly can, never more afraid to breathe than I am right now. Hoot looks at me and then Rogan, and with a snort that I’m pretty sure means my job here is done,

I can't stop laughing

“I mean, a simple yeet would have sufficed, but boom shaka laka is a solid choice as well.”

“Listen, coffee maker, I know you think you’re the shit because you’re bougie as hell, but let’s keep it real. You have one job—to make coffee—and, bitch, right now you’re sucking at it. You should be ashamed. What would all the other coffee makers have to say about your attitude?” I growl as I try for the hundredth time to make this damn machine work.

“Slap-happy, hangry, impatient, and then cuddle slut is a solid pattern for me,” I reply candidly.

“If you go straight up Karen and ask to speak to a manager, you’re on your own,”

“I want to have your babies,” I state matter-of-factly, opening my blissed-out gaze and leveling an arduous look on the coffee machine. Rogan barks out a laugh. “Should I leave the two of you alone?” he teases. “Please don’t, you know she only puts out for me because you tell her to,” I plead, and he laughs even harder.

“I’m going to whip up some potions and protections, and while I do, you are going to sit here and tell me, once and for all, what the fuck is going on. Enough is enough, it’s time to get it all out of the cauldron. And before you even think about holding out on me, you should know that I have a recipe for a potion that will leave you unsatisfied by anything you taste, do, or fuck until the antidote is given. So if I were you, I’d have a seat and spill it.” Rogan’s green gaze looks more interested than cowed as it dips down my body and then floats back up. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we,” he practically purrs, and his deep irreverent tone lights up my lady bits like it’s accelerant and a struck match all in one.

“If you keep that up, we’re going to need a safe word,” I blurt.

“What about moonstone?” he asks as he turns back to me. I look from him to the tea ingredients spread out on the pans. “Why would I put moonstone in it?” I ask, perplexed. “No,” he chuckles. “For a safe word.