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Billy grimaced through the pain; it had been sharp but fleeting. “And,” he said, walking to the rack to hang her jacket on the peg next to his. “No sense of humour,” he grumbled.
~
Heather turned on the stool, and there he was – a man mountain of muscles, tall and wide like he would get his shoulders caught in the doorframe should he not turn sideways when entering a room. His eyes were locked and loaded on her, and he had a beard that reached down his chest.
“Santa,” she said, wondering what business he had with her.
The man narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile as he stood there staring at her.
“Thanks, I don’t dance,” Heather said to fill the time as she tried to figure out what he wanted.
“You threw my brother out of here last night,” he said, and that tone was deep and grumbly, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was a shifter.
Heather allowed herself a slight smirk and then let it grow bigger when she realised it miffed him off. “Jed?” she asked, noting the resemblance now.
“I wondered if you’d want to try that with me,” he said his top lip curling in disgust.
“Does Jed get you to fight all his battles for him?” Heather asked.
“Nope,” he said, and it felt to her like a moment in a cowboy movie when the guy would spit out chewing tobacco, but he just stared instead.
“Then go away, little man,” Heather said, but the magic was already at her fingertips because he didn’t look like a guy who took no for an answer.
Heather went to sidestep him, but it didn’t take much for the big guy to block her path. “He said you didn’t hit like a girl,” he said.
Heather got it now – this guy wanted to take on the witch who had kicked his brother's backside to see what she was all about. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “That’s because I’m awoman,” she said as if explaining it to a toddler.
“And a witch,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’m betting you used magic.”
“If I did – your point?”
“Point is, you couldn’t toss out a bottle without magic,” he said, a slow grin which she assumed was supposed to be some kind of challenge crept across his lips.
“And without your shifter DNA, you’d be a lard-ass,” she replied. “While I would still look like this,” she said, motioning down her body. That wasn’t entirely true – she was still using the glamour spell to look younger, but her figure was still all hers.
Duncan appeared beside them. “Ted, I will give you to the count of three to walk away before I plant your forehead inside the countertop,” he said as if he was reading off a menu.
Ted turned to the vampire with a curious look. “I’m just having a little fun with the little lady,” he said. His fists working at his sides.
Heather had to wonder if he hadn’t taken the vampire’s words as a challenge – that would be bad. But, what would be worse, is having the vampire fighting her battles for her. “Little Lady?” she said, bringing her knee up into Ted’s groin. The look of pure surprise on his face before the pain really kicked in always made her smile. “Nobody said I was a lady.”
Heather turned to Duncan and patted him on the chest. “Thanks for the white knight routine, but I’ve got it covered,” she said, noting the light of amusement sparkling in his eyes.
Ted grabbed his groin just before his knees gave out, and he dropped to the floor. Heather leaned in and whispered. “And I didn’t need magic.”
Then she strolled away as if nothing had happened, with the vampire’s chuckles following her across the room.
~
Zoe had hoped against hope that she would be rescued from that cabin by her three friends in some kind of witch break; it would be like a jailbreak, but witchier. That wasn’t going to happen.
Now she knew she would spend another night inside those four walls; she needed booze, and headphones. The booze he had, but it was pretty much just beer, and the headphones were lying on her bed – at the other cabin.
Zoe knew that he kept shooting her looks as he pretended to be staring into the roaring fire, making coffee, or pottering around in the kitchen, because not only could she feel his gaze on her, but she’d been busted a few times looking back.
Now, she did it smartly; she did it casually, making out she was looking to see what he was doing, but every time, looking turned into staring, and he caught her again.
This time was no different; she’d just casually glanced over when he got up from the sofa, and then she got stuck on how his muscles moved under his shirt, and bingo – like magic, he caught her staring.
