Page 13 of Just One Little Bargain

Marmalade has claimed his spot in front of the cat Ouija board, batting the planchette around with intense focus.

“Still playing with your demonic party game?” I crouch beside him, my silk shorts riding up uncomfortably.

He rolls onto his back, exposing his belly. It’s obviously a trap, but I fall for it anyway. His teeth close around my wrist the second I touch fur.

“You’re the worst,” I tell him, not pulling away. He purrs in agreement, his body vibrating against my fingertips as he maintains his gentle grip.

My stomach growls, and Marmalade’s ears twitch. The clock on my wall says it’s nine, which explains the complaint.

The kitchen still smells of lemon bars when I walk in. I fill the kettle, grab my favorite mug, and wait for the water to boil.

Something thumps in the living room.

“Marmalade, if you’re destroying my plants again, we’re having words.”

The kettle starts to whistle. I pour hot water over a tea bag, add honey, and stir.

More sounds from the other room. “If you’re stuck again, you’re on your own.”

I grab my mug and head back with a lecture ready, but every word disappears when I round the corner.

There’s a man in my house.

Crouched on my living room floor.

Petting my cat.

Rather than freaking out, running for my life, or doing anything remotely sensible, my wine-sluggish brain fixates on his hands. Long, graceful fingers giving my cat what appears to be a professional-grade ear scratch.

I let my eyes drift upward and instantly regret it. He’s attractive. Messy-curls-and-good-jawline hot. The kind I’d look twice at under literally any other circumstances. Wire-framed glasses sit crooked on his nose.

Then he opens his mouth.

“You’re really good at this.” His voice is low and a little uncertain, and he’s still scratching Marmalade’s ears. “Though I’m not sure Hell will take a bargain with a cat.”

Great. The hot stranger is also crazy.

He looks up and our eyes meet. The mug crashes to the floor, and I scream.

The stranger jerks backward so fast his legs tangle and he goes down hard. He’s six-two at least, sprawled across my floor looking startled.

Marmalade scrambles away, claws clicking, then sits down to wash his paw as if none of this concerns him.

The man stares at me with eyes that are violet-tinged in the lamplight. The rest of him looks normal. Nothing that screams deranged intruder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” One hand goes to the back of his neck, an awkwardly human gesture for someone currently starring in my home-invasion nightmare. “But technically, you summoned me, so I thought you’d be expecting someone.”

He winces and looks away.

“No. Let me start over.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up in soft dark waves. “I’m supposed to introduce myself first. I always skip that part.”

“Get out.” My voice is thin and hoarse, adrenaline prickling across my skin. “Get the fuck out of my house right now.”

“I know how this looks. But the summoning created a binding tether, which technically means I’m here by invitation.” He pauses, those strange violet eyes searching my face. “That’s not making this better, is it?”

This is the opening segment of one of those true-crime shows Daisy listens to while she does her skincare routine. The ones where the host’s voice drops to a whisper right before describing what the killer did next.

“I don’t have an agreement with you!” The words rise to a shriek and I back toward the kitchen. “I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”