Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(28)

Or cholesterol.

Or caffeine.

Damian’s was love. The act of falling in love.

“I hex you, Damian Adams. When you find that one person and realize they’re your everything, you’ll lose not only your heart, but your soul … and there will be no amount of Magic that will bring it back.”

Etched on a mental MP3 file in his head, his ex’s words reminded him that what Rose referred to as “his brooding” was one of many tactics he employed to keep people at arm’s length. It was right up there along with his one-night-stand rule and no hanging around for breakfast. Hell, he had at least a dozen more, ironic since it was his lack of rules—and boundaries—that had put him in this predicament.

He’d had tunnel vision at the height of his teenage Hunting career, thinking only about his next haul. He sure as hell hadn’t considered how the bounty life would affect his fledgling relationship with the witch down the block from where he trained … at least not until she felt slighted enough to start throwing hexes around and hurled a doozy of one right at his head.

Or more accurately, his heart.

Back in the day, he might have played it fast and loose, but suddenly, having a real, tangible threat to his humanity had given him the wake-up call he’d needed to step away from the Hunting life.

No Hunting and no deep-rooted feelings of love meant his heart and soul remained intact, and he’d like to keep it that way.

The truck cab grew silent as they got closer to Antoni’s Junk & Salvage. Last year, the owner had relocated to a retirement center where there was sun and surf all year round, and the depot— abandoned by his kids, who couldn’t have cared less about the place—had quickly fallen into deep disrepair.

Knowing that no one monitored the site, contractors and big companies saw—and often used—it as a free dumping ground for their leftover crap.

As expected, the front gate stood open, the rusted padlock broken either by kids or by whoever had dumped the animals. Damian nudged the gate open with the hood of the truck and carefully steered around debris on the way to the rear fence where Amir’s contact had heard crying.

The second Damian put the car in park, the sky opened up, rain dousing the ground in seconds.

“Shit,” Damian cursed, reaching into the backseat for his medical emergency bag. “You can stay in the truck and keep the heat pumping because when I find them, it’ll be important we get them warm.”

“Why would I stay in the truck?”

“Won’t you—?”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’ll melt in the rain, I swear to Goddess I’ll hex you so hard your head will spin.”

“Wouldn’t be the first one,” Damian muttered.

“What?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“Nothing. Just didn’t know if you’d be up for it. It’s cold. Now wet. And we have no idea where these critters are, or if they’re even still here. It won’t be a quick search.”

She plucked the second flashlight from the center console. “Then it’s a good thing there’s two of us.”

Not waiting for him, she climbed out of the truck. To keep their supplies dry for as long as possible, they opted to take only themselves and the flashlights, and would come back for everything else if—or when—they found the pups.

Damian flickered his light along the fence. “Amir said the crying came from just inside the fence line, so we’ll walk the perimeter and keep our eyes and ears open. I’ll go left. You go right. When we hit the end, turn around and retrace your steps until we meet back here. Sound good?”

“Got it.” She pushed her wet hair, now plastered to her face, out of her eyes. “And we call out if we hear or see anything.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Oh, and little witch?” Damian hated bursting her hopeful bubble with a dose of grim reality. “Rescues like this one don’t always end on a happy note. Just … prepare yourself.”

Her nose wrinkled as she dismissed him. “Sorry, doc. Pessimism may be your go-to emotion, but it’s not mine. I’ll send out the bat signal when I find the puppies.”

She turned, giving him a prime view of her wet jean-clad ass. He gave himself five seconds to enjoy it before returning to the task at hand, navigating around the small mountains of metal and steel.

Rain poured in relentless, thick droplets, occasionally obscuring his vision despite the use of the flashlight. At the end of the fence, he turned around and slowly trekked back, his ears straining to hear beyond the pelting rain.

Rose released a piercing finger-whistle. “Over here! I found something!”

He jogged the line, head whipping around. “Where the hell are you?”

“Here!” Her muffled voice came from a few feet away, well beyond the area he’d directed they’d look. “There’s definitely something over here!”

Rose lay prone in the deepening mud, her upper body obscured from the demolished—and precariously stacked—cars that she’d shimmied under. One wrong move—or hell, a gust of wind—and the damn thing could topple over onto her.

Crouching by her fine, curvy ass, he gently touched her exposed ankle so as not to startle her. “You need to get out of there.”