Resting Witch Face (Stay a Spell, #5)

by Juliette Cross

I could hardly imagine my mental state after weeks, months…years of falling deeper under his spell. I wasn’t the witch here; he was. He didn’t know how far I’d fallen because I refused to tell him. I was out-of-my-mind obsessed, and the realization was both immensely wonderful and intensely terrifying.

“Give it to me, Juliana,”

“Like I’m meant to come for you alone, come inside you alone.”

No one had ever looked at me the way Ruben Dubois did. He saw past my solemn mask and cool exterior to the warmest, brightest heart of me. When he looked at me like this, I was left feeling raw and vulnerable, and lost. I think he knew it, which was why he also seemed to know when to lighten the mood.

“I hadn’t intended to seduce you and fuck you against my wall when I asked you over for dinner.”

“There was no sexual exchange, but I knew afterwards it was a mistake. A terrible one.” He frowned guiltily. He didn’t even have to say it, so I did for him. “Your toxin seduced her.”

“Worse, I’m afraid.” He clenched his jaw. “She became fang-spelled.”

Becoming fang-spelled, developing what is also called fang mania—formally known as vampire toxin psychosis—was a disorder that occurred when a vampire fed from another magical being and the blood host became sick with a kind of lust hysteria for the vampire. The victim would forego food and sleep and become a danger to their vampire host, wanting only one thing. The bite and the toxin at any cost.

“But if her presence makes you uncomfortable, I will send her away. Say the word, and it’s done.” “You’d fire her and kick her out on the streets if I told you to?” “You have no idea what I’d do for you.”

When he took me to the sofa, I forgot all about the incident with Beverly and those feelings of dread that threatened to take this all away from me. For now.

Devraj and Isadora had opted for an intimate and private wedding in Ruben’s garden. The reception would be under a large tent on the other side of his pool. Considering his home was in the posh upper Garden District with a high castle-like privacy fence and vampire guards to boot, we weren’t worried about anyone crashing our supernatural wedding.

Classical Indian music filled the garden as we escorted Isadora to her groom. She glowed with beauty and love, her gaze fixed forward on Devraj.

Dressed in a Lehenga wedding dress, a two-piece gown in red velvet and silk embroidered with gold beading and crystals. She looked stunning. We sisters each wore a less ornamented silk Lehenga in different colors. Clara’s was a subdued pink, Violet in lavender, ...

It was Isadora’s wish that the ceremony reflect more of Devraj’s culture than our own western one. She’d said that he’d been forced to give up so much of his homeland and had lost his mother so many years ago that she wanted to surround him with everything he loved the day they became husband and wife. In the family room one night while we were planning the wedding, I’d heard her whis...

That picture of them kept coming back to me, two lovers content to simply hold one another in silence, letting love soak through them in quiet contentment.

Their love was palpable, especially today as we made our way up the torch-lit aisle, the few rows of white chairs on both sides filled with our family and close friends. JJ and Charlie, Tia and her boyfriend Marcus, the whole Cauldron crew, and the vampires who worked with Dev and Ruben. Next to the vampires sat Sean, Tom, and Lindsey from Empress Ink. Our two cousins, Drew and Cole, and their business partner and best friend, Travis, from Lafayette sat on the bride’s side behind my parents.

Mom and Dad sat on the second row with Aunt Beryl, each holding one of Mateo and Evie’s triplets. But it was my Grandmother Maybelle who made me smile the most. She was cooing to Diego who was propped over my Dad’s shoulder. Diego kept giggling as he played with the giant pearly beads of her n...

My sisters’ boyfriends Nico, Mateo, and Gareth stood along the front as groomsmen, as well as Henry Blackwater. At the center stood Devraj and immediately to his left was his best man, Ruben.

Nilika was a hex-breaker, which meant she was also good at casting spells. She’d told us that she’d cast spells of blessings, good fortune, and joy into our henna tattoos as she’d painted them on. And I did indeed feel her tranquil magic tingling on my skin, casting a balm of peace and serenity over all of us as we guided our sister and gave her away to Devraj Kumar.

Devraj had eyes only for his bride, dressed in the traditional Sherwani. His long jacket was embroidered in the same vibrant reds and golds as Isadora’s gown. The groomsmen also wore Sherwani, but I refused to even glance their way, or my eyes would betray me and find the one I was avoiding.

To be fair, in the last few weeks since we’d been working together on our campaign to bring the werewolves into the High Guild Coven, as well as planning this wedding, I’d noticed that the boundaries I’d set years ago were starting to erode. Not only that, they were being crossed, not specifically by him. He wasn’t doing anything but being...Ruben.

This moment. It was one of many I cherished for my sisters. My sweet family. Being the eldest always felt so hard—and came with sacrifices they’d never know, sacrifices I didn’t want to burden them with—but I was more than willing to make them. To take the weight of responsibility, so we had moments like this. So they found the joy they deserved.

Still, it didn’t mean I couldn’t find happiness of my own. A partner of my own. I’d tried, but no one compared to the vampire overlord dripping with power and charisma, who I’d endeavored not to notice staring at me across the canopy. Maybe I should try again. Seeing the utter joy between Isadora and Devraj made me want to find my someone. One who wouldn’t erase my will altogether and endanger my family and community.

I’d been so intent on not looking at him that it was only then that I realized his long-embroidered jacket matched my champagne-colored one. The other groomsmen had all apparently decided to match the bridesmaids. But this detail, probably agreed upon by Isadora had escaped me until this very moment.

The fact that we’d all been paired off by boyfriend—or future boyfriend for Clara because you’d have to be blind not to see where things were headed with Henry Blackwater—stunned me still for a second. Because I was paired off with my ex-boyfriend.

Then again, the way he was looking at me right now didn’t feel very ex. He hadn’t looked at m...

How was I to go on this long business trip abroad and resist him at every turn?

Of course, I could. I was Jules Savoie, renown ice-queen and serious-as-fuck Enforcer of New Orleans. Surely I could withstand the slight temptation of being in constant proximity to a beautiful vampire.

I admired the Greek sculptures in between the Italian cypress trees that bordered the terrace area as we passed next to the pool. One statue of Hades carrying away Persephone particularly drew my attention, but before I could inch closer to get a better look, I felt a hand at the small of my back.

Jackson looked through his lens. “Ruben, just a little closer to Jules there.” I felt his heat at my left shoulder. “Yeah, like one inch closer. Just like that. And if you can put your right hand on her right hip.”

The weight of his hand found my hip, and I bit back the whimper that nearly escaped my mouth. This was ridiculous! It was lust. Plain and simple. Oh, yeah, Livvy’s damn grim was standing too close. I glared at him over Livvy’s shoulder. When he saw me, his brows went up in surprise but then lit with wicked humor. This wasn’t fucking funny. I just hadn’t prepared myself for all of the emotions today. And to be bombarded with that grim’s aura while Ruben was practically on top of me…

“Not waiting, but I could tell from here that you needed a drink.” “That obvious?” “Let me guess. A certain vampire rubbing you wrong?”

My grandmother, who was close to four hundred years old and looked like a very healthy, vivacious woman in her fifties, was what most men would call a femme fatale. When our grandfather died a hundred years ago, she said she’d never marry again and decided to sow her wild oats.

Apparently, she has been in every country around the world since she’s been traveling for decades now. Currently, she had one of Ruben’s men, Sal, who had to be at least two centuries younger than her, following her to the bar.

“I’m telling you, dear boy, your grandfather was the worst rake I’d ever met. Even after I’d demoted him as overlord of the region, he was still slobbering at my doorstep. I had to actually cast a guarding spell around the damn house.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I told Sal, patting him on the arm. “Maybelle simply has a way about her. Men can’t help but make fools of themselves over her. Right, Maw Maybelle?” I teased.

“If I was really lucky, maybe the granddaughter would give me a chance.”

“If you’d like to die a slow, painful death,” said the vampire who’d suddenly stepped into our circle, “then why don’t you finish that conversation?”

“We aren’t dating, Ruben. We haven’t dated for many years now. What does it matter? Sal can ask if there’s a chance.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But that’s beside the point.” “I don’t see how.” I snorted indelicately. “You can’t tell your employees who they can and can’t date.” “The hell I can. When it comes to you.”

For a second, I simply blinked. I’d never heard him sound so possessive, not even when we were actually together. Something was shifting. Time to lighten the mood.

“I wasn’t talking about us,” I snapped back. “I was talking about Beverly. I wonder if you finally ended up letting her have what she wanted. After all, we stopped dating years ago, and you’ve kept her around. Surely, you let her scratch that itch she’d wanted so badly.”

His eyes widened in shock—and hurt. He looked as if I’d slapped him, and I found myself wanting to apologize. But I wasn’t even sure what for. I’d only asked a simple question. Then he gave me the answer.

“If that’s what you believe, then you know nothing at all. You don’t know me at all.”

We were broken up, long broken up, when I dated Carter. We weren’t dating now, so what the hell was going on? And the memory of Carter immediately traced my thoughts back to the night of the twins’ birthday party when I’d gotten into an argument with him about a rogue vampire and then later that evening received a picture text that had turned my world upside down.

She actually believed that I’d drink from her or fuck her after I knew the mere idea of it had hurt her when we were together? But then, she had no idea, did she? No idea the pain it would cause me to do something like that.

Obsessed, stupefied, besotted. None of them quite measured up to the truth, to the emotion that had wrapped an iron fist around my heart at the sight of her tonight. I wasn’t sure there had been a word yet created that could define what I felt for Juliana. The worst part of all is she had no idea.

The wedding party song Movement by Hozier kept our dance in a slow, intimate circle, very much like the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, the bride and groom.

it meant more to me because it was an excuse to hold the woman who belonged to me and who’d rejected me twelve years ago.

As my best friend for centuries, he was the one I’d confessed to the moment I had met Jules. He understood her significance in my life, and he’d also been the only one to understand the depth of her loss when she had ended it.