Page 24 of Hexy Beast

“Why would I do that?” I say, still fighting even though I know the battle is lost.

“Because you don’t have a choice.” He lowers his head again—this time even more—but changes the angle at the last possible second and instead of kissing me, he moves so his lips nearly brush my ear and whispers, “I’m going to the cabin across the street, and you’re either going to walk with me of your own volition or you’re going to do your poof thing and appear inside with me like magic whether you want to or not, witch.”

“I have a name,” I mumble, barely hearing myself above the blood rushing in my ears as my whole body heats up in anticipation of what he’s silently teasing me with.

“Effie,” Darius says, making my name sound like a promise he can’t wait to fulfill, “turn Nikos back into himself and come with me.”

I don’t want to do either of those things, but the truth of it is that Nikos is starting to smell under the heat of the late afternoon sun, and until I find a way to negate the stupid boomerang charm Darius planted, I am stuck next to him. Today really is beginning to suck.

“I liked you better when you just grunted a lot,” I say, taking a step away from Darius.

I summon a reverse spell before pushing it at Nikos. There’s another honeysuckle-scented ripple in the air. The bits of macaroni-salad Nikos that went flying when Darius punched him zoom through the air and connect with the rest of him, a loud snap sounds a second later, and then Nikos is back to his regular self.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Nikos says as soon as he’s no longer a macaroni-salad man.

“Oops,” I say, squinting at a nonexistent spot on his shoulder. “I missed some.”

“The fuck,” he hollers as he spins around trying to figure out what part of him hasn’t transformed.

Leaving him to it, I fall into step next to Darius, and we walk to the large cabin on the other side of the town square, leaving a panicky Nikos in our wake.

“That was funny, but there will be consequences,” Darius says as he stops in front of the cabin’s door.

“What consequences?” I give him a sassy smirk because I refuse to let him know how much being close to him affects me. “Are you going to spank me?”

“No.” He opens his front door and steps aside so I can walk through first. “I think you’d like it too much.”

Chapter Nine

Effie…

That is a big-ass bed.

Okay, fine, maybe a normal witch wouldn’t walk into a strange werewolf’s two-thousand-square-foot, open-floor-plan cabin and notice the bed first off, but I am not a normal witch and these are not normal circumstances.

And the bed is really, really huge.

“What do you do on there?” I ask, even though I’m already imagining a million naked possibilities.

Darius doesn’t hesitate. “Quantum physics.”

I doubt that, but there is something about Darius that gives off the whole math-is-my-happy-place vibe, so there is a chance he’s not just giving me shit. Still, the place somehow manages to ride the line of rigidly tidy and sensually decadent at the same time—starting with the bed.

The oversized Alaskan king (so what would that make it—a Canadian king? North American king? Western Hemisphere king?) has been made with tight military corners, but the fluffy comforter is visibly soft to the touch. The dozen pillows are arranged just so, making them look like a mix of sink-into-them cushy and prop-you-up-for-just-the-right-angle firm.

It isn’t just the bed that gives the come-a-little-closer vibe though. Standing in the middle of the rustic, cozy-core cabin, I do a three-sixty to take it all in.

The bedroom area takes up the whole back of the cabin. Next to it is a set of double doors that are open far enough to give me a peek at the hot-tub-sized bathtub and large walk-in Roman shower inside. The living room has a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace and the kind of couch meant for a weekend of rotting and binge-watching with a half dozen of your closest friends. There are cuddle-worthy blankets, a couple of ottomans to put your feet up on, and surround-sound speakers placed at optimal locations around it. There’s a large oak table with cushy seating in the dining area and a massive island with cushioned barstools in the kitchen, perfect for sitting around and gossiping over morning coffee.

The late afternoon sun basks the whole place in a golden glow that makes me feel all warm and lazy.

This is definitely the place to be held captive if you have to get kidnapped. Well, as kidnapped as a Sherwood witch can be, considering if I wanted to I could simply magic the two of us to the family house, where my sisters would find whatever charm he’s hexed me with and then make his life even more of a hell than I can by myself.

And what, you may ask, is keeping me from spelling the world’s grumpiest alpha and myself out of here? I mean, just because I can’t be away from him since he somehow glitched my magic doesn’t mean I can’t transport us both somewhere else. But I’m not going to. Why? Because then I’d have to admit to my parents that, yes, I may have been a tad too impulsive (read: wildly irresponsible) this time. And anyway, I’m having fun annoying Darius. What can I say, I like seeing him get all worked up. Plus, I have to admit I am really frickin’ curious to know what in the world is going on with this werewolf pack. A jinx? Old witchy runes? Internal power struggles? It’s like my own personal reality TV show—one that is not going to end with a wedding.

“I’m not marrying you,” I tell him as I sit on the foot of the bed, sinking down just enough that it feels like the bed is hugging my rear end, “but I might want to move in. This bed is fantastic.”

Darius stays exactly where he is, a good bit away from the bed with his feet planted shoulder-width apart and his hands loose at his sides as if he expects me to take a run at him.