Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(107)
“I don’t care. I’ll d-do anything … anything for a ch-chance with h-her.”
A small, fuzzy smile pulled up his ex’s lips. “Waiting eighteen years to hear you say those words about another woman wasn’t what I had in mind for how this played out, but I guess it’s better late than never. You’re going to want to tone down the groaning and tune up the hearing because this is a very delicate process.”
Damian didn’t care if it consisted of twelve million steps and the offering of a vital organ. He’d do whatever it took to break this damn hex, and once it was gone, he’d go even further to show a certain brassy witch that he was done looking for excuses.
They belonged together, and he wasn’t about to let something as minor as a Soul Hex prevent that from happening.
* * *
Rose swirled her strawberry Witch’s Brew and listened to the conversations around her, jumping in only when someone dragged her into it. It had been a long time since they’d all gotten together at Potion’s Up, and the success of the first soon-to-be-annual Marisol Animal Sanctuary and Clinic Adoption Fair was as good an excuse to celebrate as any.
Every adoptable animal now had a forever home—even Jasper, whose new family ran an equine therapy program farther out on the island that catered to both two-and four-legged patients.
Yet Rose couldn’t bask in it. She was five minutes away from calling it a night, climbing into her flannel PJs, and devouring the leftover boozy ice cream in her freezer. She would’ve dove beneath her weighted blanket an hour ago if Olive hadn’t magically sealed her ass to the chair.
A foot kicked her beneath the table, startling her into noticing her rear end was no longer plastered to her spot.
Olive silently mouthed, “Are you okay?”
She shrugged, the noncommittal gesture deepening her sister’s worried frown. It was time to make an exit before she infected the rest of the group with her grumpy funk. “I’m calling it a night, guys.”
“What? No!” Harper looked aghast, nudging her chin toward Bax and the other guys. “If you’d rather have an FO, G Night, we can get rid of these losers and go back to your place.”
“FOG Night?” Olive scrunched her nose, mentally deciphering the Harper lingo like everyone else. “I need a Harper handbook because I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“FO, G,” Harper said, her tone like duh. “Fuck Off, Guys.”
“Don’t we usually call it a Girls’ Night?”
The succubus shrugged. “I’m trying new things and seeing what sticks.”
Rose smiled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I think I need an Alone Night with the leftover pint of Cake Batter Vodka ice cream.”
Everyone’s attention shifted off Rose.
Another presence—a magical one—stood nearby.
Even though Olive was the sister gifted with their father’s shifter sense of smell, Rose knew who it was without looking. Magic sensed Magic, and sensing the other witch, hers flared, stirring wildly through her veins, practically begging to be let loose and wicked-witch some shit up.
Callie stood less than three feet away, her hair pulled up into a half-bun, and, for the first time since they’d met, she wore jeans and a knee-length tube sweater. She cast a wary glance at their table, whose occupants had now gotten to their feet.
“Hi.” Callie shifted awkwardly on her feet, stealing a look toward Olive, Vi, and Harper, who’d taken position at her side. “I hate to interrupt your night—”
“Then don’t,” Harper snapped.
Rose shook her head, and her friend backed down. “What do you want, Callie? I already told you I’m not interested in your proposition.”
“I know, and I totally accept that. I was hoping we could talk about … the other thing.” Callie cleared her throat as if something were stuck. “I don’t blame you if you want to tell me to jump in a boiling cauldron, but I hope you’ll at least hear me out. Give me the chance to explain.”
Rose snorted. Hear out the woman who’d single-handedly destroyed any hope she had at being with the man she loved? Not likely.
After quick hugs with her sisters and Harper, and a wave to the guys, Rose headed for the door, ignoring the witch trailing after her.
“I get it, Rose,” Callie cried out.
She whirled around. “You get it? What exactly do you get? That it’s unethical to mess with a person’s heart? With their very soul? That’s something every witch learns before they even leave kindergarten, but maybe you were absent that day?”
Rose stepped closer, letting her Magic bounce on her fingertips. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than the Gryndors or the Valentin Bissets of the world. The Supernatural Council may not see Soul Hexes as a crime—yet. But I do. It’s unethical and immoral, and it’s so far beyond inhumane. Everyone deserves to be loved and to fall in love, and you took that away from Damian. You took that away from me.”
“I never intended to hex Damian. Actually, I did, but … I’m not explaining things very well.”
Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Gee, you think?”
“My family comes from a long line of Seers, but the gift was never very strong with me … until I met Damian. The second I laid eyes on him, I knew we were linked somehow. We were the same age, and he was my ultimate bad-boy fantasy come to life, so naturally I first thought maybe it was a soul mate connection…”