Grim and Bear It (Stay a Spell, #6)

by Juliette Cross

Then one day, while I was standing outside of Ruben’s bookstore on Magazine, a woman stepped out of a shop and walked down the street, her lengthy blond hair streaming down her back. I’d felt it like a punch to the gut. I remember sucking in a painful gulp of air the second I laid eyes on her, knowing at long last I’d found my butterfly garden again. Only, she wasn’t a garden. She was a woman. A witch. A breathlessly stunning, beguiling one who began tormenting my dreams with aching frequency from that very day.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m at your house?” He merely nodded. “I hope you don’t mind I showed up here unannounced. I thought it best we talk in person.” I walked closer, noting his body stiffening against the counter as I came. He braced his hands on the black marble behind him. I stopped a few feet away, still holding the confectionary box in both hands. “I know your secret.” That’s when emotion finally flitted across his face, shock and a touch of fear. Rather than let him stew, I bolted ahead. “I know you’re Raven1, my biggest fan on my blog for The High Tea Book Club.”

He seemed almost scared, even though his expression and dark gaze—ever fixed on me—hardly had changed since I’d walked through his front door. I decided to speak softer, maybe come across less threatening. Vi said I could sometimes appear aggressive when I was excited. And I was so very excited standing in his kitchen, basking in his delicious essence. I glanced down at the perfectly iced pink cupcakes. “This one is my favorite. Strawberries and cream.”

I lifted a cupcake out of the box and took another step closer, holding it out to him. “It’s sweet and creamy, Henry. I promise. Don’t you want to lick my cupcake?” He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his eyes blinked heavily, and his chest caved with a gusty breath. For a fleeting few seconds, he seemed pained, almost tortured, then suddenly it was all gone. Like a switch had flipped. The look of agony vanished, replaced by something altogether more terrifying—resignation and a hard wickedness that made me quiver with desire. He shoved off the counter and straightened above me, forcing me to tilt my chin up. Holding my gaze, his own dark as pitch, he finally spoke. “Yeah, Clara. I wanna lick your cupcake.”

Before I could worry about one more fucking thing, the front door swung open and my entire soul sighed. There she stood in all of her stunning, brain-hazing beauty. It hurt to look at her. And yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I tried.