Always Practice Safe Hex (Stay a Spell, #4)

by Juliette Cross

I couldn’t control myself. The second I laid eyes on that damn grim reaper, I bee-lined through the party, pretending my final destination wouldn’t be right by his side. There was something perversely compelling in my lust/hate roller coaster ride of emotions for this man.

To say he rubbed me wrong was an understatement. The fact that he also rubbed me so ridiculously right was absolutely maddening. And the way he looked at me. Jesus, take the wheel. No. Jesus, look away.

Gareth Blackwater was a pleasurable and maddening shock to my senses. From his always-in-place coal-black hair to his fair complexion to his razor-edged jaw and prominent brow, he was a feast for the eyes. Also, he was a cocky, annoying know-it-all.

I’d gotten my sister Clara to give me one of her super-spells to block his powerful aura that was basically a concoction of sex-clenching, mind-buzzing lust. So far, so good.

“Are you alright, Lavinia?” Why did he always use my full name? Nobody else did. And why did it sound so carnal and lascivious dripping from his overly full lips and rumbling out of his lusciously wide mouth?

Gareth in his usual broody, austere state was disturbingly attractive. But when he laughed? Damnation and hellfire. He was like a dark angel showering us lowly humans with a glimpse of heaven.

This was what I was here for. Not to get tied up in knots over this enigmatic, cocky grim who happened to be my rival and who unfortunately set my body on fire.

Gareth lifted his glass to the room then turned to me. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw seemed sharper. “Cheers, darling. You’re stuck with me now.”

Gareth wasn’t happy about this news either. Seems I wasn’t the only one feeling the nerves that we’d have to get along to some extent for the sake of the contest.

“Is it because you have to share the spotlight with two others? I’m sure that’s difficult for you.” I couldn’t help teasing him. Something about him made me want to poke and pull and fucking misbehave.

“Oh, I see.” I smiled lightly, taking a sip of my wine. “Never had a menage, have you?” Poke, poke. His jaw clenched before he replied coolly, “No.”

“It might loosen you up. It’s fun to let loose and lose control sometimes.” I realized a split second too late that Gareth Blackwater should not be poked. “During sex,” he said in that low, deep baritone of his, leaning close and giving me a whiff of his clean, masculine scent, “being in control is the only way I get off.”

Gasping, I came out of the vision, my pulse pounding, blood racing. That wasn’t my vision. That was his. I stared at Gareth in shock for two reasons. One was that he’d had a deliciously filthy fantasy of me. The second was a secret I’d just learned about grim reapers.

Dream on, grim. It’ll never happen. You aren’t the only one who prefers control. And I’d never hand the reins over to you. His nostrils flared as he stepped even closer, mouth partly open as if trying to figure out what to say.

But inwardly, I was a fucking inferno of emotions. Today, I’d finally see Lavinia again.

They could warp a person’s sense of control and willpower to do whatever they wanted. That’s all this was, I repeated to myself as the elevator dinged, announcing my arrival on the top floor.

This little working relationship might get complicated really fast if she continued to react to me that way. Because I sure as hell wasn’t one to deny my urges.

If she was on board, then so was I. Rivals or not.

“Meanwhile,” he continued, ignoring my question,

This was a bad decision, but I couldn’t fucking help myself. After I’d seen Lavinia’s text from her sister, I knew exactly where I’d be eating dinner tonight.

Of course I knew it was owned and run by the head coven of witches in New Orleans, but I’d never been interested enough to check it out. Not much caught my interest. But Lavinia most definitely had.

The fact that I’d been with her for eight hours today should’ve satisfied my senses. But it hadn’t. I needed more. So much more.

I smiled. His usual calm veneer fractured into minute pieces whenever Clara was around.

“Hi, Henry!” Clara suddenly appeared next to our booth, beaming down at my cousin with the brightest smile. I tried not to laugh at the way his eyes rounded in shock. He swallowed hard against her surprising appearance at our table like a fairy blinking into existence. “Hi,” he whispered low and gruff.

According to his current murderous glare, he thought the expression on my face meant I might have designs on her now.

But we grims can feel them.” I nodded to Henry. His scowl deepened. A low growl rumbled up his throat, sounding like a fucking werewolf. I ignored his foul temper and misguided warning.

This was more comical and entertaining than I could’ve possibly imagined. If I’d known this would be my reward for dragging Henry here, I would’ve done it weeks ago.

“Or better yet, watch it with you instead.” His feral gaze sliced to me. Clara caught his expression, her smile dimming a little as she took a step back from the table.

As soon as she walked away, Henry collapsed forward, sliding both hands into his hair, he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to the table. Then he banged it lightly three times.

For Henry to even remotely admit that he had an affliction that needed soothing was a miracle in itself. We rarely, if ever, talked about his problem. Because he didn’t want to talk about it, let alone face it.

I liked this game. Where she tried to figure out if I was lying to her or not. I always told her the truth. Except that one time.

That was a ruse to distract her from the fact that I wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her on the lobby floor. Still did, actually.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Blackwater?” Fucking hell. What couldn’t she do for me? Her midnight eyes narrowed at my devious smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

This, I could handle. Not the softness and sweetness of Lavinia. That side of her I could hardly bear. She was already battering against my walls with the rest of her charms. And I didn’t fucking like it. Time to shore them up.

My mind drifted back to Gareth and the fact that he grew up in foster homes. Apparently homes that didn’t care for him the way they should have.

I was curious to know more but doubted he’d tell me. He wasn’t the type of guy to open himself up. And definitely not to the woman he seemed to consider his enemy.

“Hatred and hostility are strong emotions,” she continued matter-of-factly. “They get your heart rate up, heat the blood, make you sweat, drawing your focus solely to the one giving you these emotions. It’s very similar to desire. So, wanting to have sex with Gareth is perfectly normal.” I dropped the camera from in front of my face. “Who says I’m talking about me and Gareth?” Clara grinned, transforming her expression into a naughty impish look.

And second,” she rolled her eyes, “I mean, please.”

“You’ve been angry at him from the first time you met him in this contest. You won’t shut up about how much you loathe Gareth Blackwater.” Her grin returned. “He also happens to be extremely smart, which I know is a big turn-on for you. And now that I’ve met him, I know that he’s alarmingly attractive.”

And he’s got that dark and broody thing going that you’re so obsessed with.” I considered what my youngest, and possibly wisest, sister was telling me. It’s true, I liked the smart ones.

That was typical of the people I was attracted to—male or female. I’d be intensely drawn to them then, inevitably, the fire would slowly die.

Struck with a horrifying thought, I wondered if I was the kind of person who needed to be constantly thrilled and entertained to be attracted to someone.

You’re driven by excitement, the thrill of the hunt. Which is why your relationships usually die once you’ve caught them.”

She looked up from her doodling with a smile. “I know all of my sisters’ psychological and sexual preferences as well as their emotional and spiritual needs. It’s part of what I do.” Surprised, I asked, “How so?” “Emotions tell me everything,” she answered cryptically, still sketching.

She was making too much damn sense, and I just wasn’t prepared to be confronted with all this today. I asked a simple question which shined this eye-opening and not-so-pleasant spotlight on my dating history.

“Are there rules in the contest guidelines that say contestants can’t have sex with each other?” I snorted. “I do believe they left that rule out.” “Good. Then you should totally fuck him.”

“Because he’s so buttoned-up and serious and intense. I’ll bet when he lets loose in the bedroom, it’s explosive.” She gestured a bomb exploding with her hands.

“Speaking of services, are you going to let Gareth service you?”

“Speaking of…I saw you getting kind of cozy with his cousin, Henry. What’s going on there?” “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice all honeyed innocence.

Now look who was avoiding. “Don’t be coy. You flirt with him every chance you get.”