Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(4)

Rose sighed. “We’ve had this discussion.”

“Discussion implies back-and-forth communication. We didn’t have that. It was me begging, and you flat-out saying no. Adrian is Lincoln’s Second-in-Command. There’s no reason why I can’t have a wing-witch. We could even get you a little button … or a sash. No one wears sashes anymore.”

As flattered as Rose was by the offer, it wasn’t happening. For the last six months, she’d been content living in Vi’s Queens studio apartment while she searched for her own thing. That thing might be a little elusive, but she was determined to find it.

Maybe it was what brought her to this run-down farm in the middle of the night and about to horse-nap two sick mares. Who knows? She wouldn’t if she let herself take the easy route.

Harper hung her head out from the Jeep’s open window, and hissed, “Less chitchat and more breaking-and-entering, please. My spidey senses are tingling and not in a good way.”

Vi grumbled, putting her hands over Rose’s on the rusty latch. “Fine … but we’re not done with this conversation. On the count of three, yank with everything you’ve got.”

As they hit their count, they each threw their weight into the pull. It finally released with a heavy groan. The second Rose opened the barn door, they were hit with the scent of horse and hay … and a few more unpleasant smells.

Vi gagged, covering her nose. “I have never been so glad to be a cat owner. Even Mr. Fancy Pants’s most volatile poops don’t smell anything close to this, and they’re pretty damn putrid after he eats turkey breast.”

Rose sniffed, failing to hide her smirk. “I don’t smell anything.”

Vi threw her a glare because it was common Magical Triad knowledge that while Rose had inherited their father’s mountain-lion shifter eyesight and Olive called dibs on amplified hearing, Vi, unfortunately, had acquired his augmented sense of smell.

Rose chuckled as she aimed her flashlight into the interior. Four stalls lined each side of the barn for a grand total of eight, and all but the two on the end were empty. When the light beam flickered over their resting spots, a chocolate-colored horse and a vanilla-colored horse poked their heads over their doors, shifting their long-lashed stares their way.

“Hey, girls,” Rose purred, glancing at the blond mare’s wall nameplate. “Let’s get Butternut into the trailer first. We’ll come back for the chocolate one when she’s settled.”

Rose’s chest ached as she unlatched the gate and got her first up-close view of the horse’s state. Her hips stuck out at sharp angles, and if there’d been better light, they’d be able to count every single rib through what little hair patches remained. Whatever this poor creature had been through, she’d suffered through it for a damn long time.

What Rose wouldn’t give for a few minutes alone with the owner.

A rush of anger—and Magic—swelled close to the surface, and as if sensing it, the horse shifted anxiously in her stall.

Violet’s hand squeezed hers. “Maybe Olly should lead Butternut to the trailer.”

“Why?” Rose asked.

Olive glanced to where Rose’s fingers still emitted a soft pink magical glow. “She’s obviously been through a lot and you’re a bit … supercharged at the moment.”

Rose took a deep breath, one after another, until her Magic slowly receded. “There. All good. Butternut and I will get along famously.”

Rose didn’t miss the look her sisters shared as she slipped into the mare’s stall.

Showing the horse the soft lead in her hand, she gently rubbed the white diamond on the center of Butternut’s nose, letting her fingers glide over the ears until she slid the lead into place. The horse huffed and shifted, burying her nose into Rose’s hair and making her giggle.

“I think she’s ready to get out of here.” Rose handed the rope to Olive and gave the horse a gentle rump push. “Let’s get you to Equine Disneyland, Butternut.”

The mare didn’t move except to swing her head sideways, her big brown eyes looking at her as if asking her what the hell she was doing.

Rose patted her hindquarter. “Come on, girl. You don’t want to stay here, do you? Are you two teasing her with the sugar cubes?”

Vi waved a cube in front of the horse’s muzzle. “She couldn’t care less. Aren’t sugar cubes like dangling Jason Momoa in front of … me? And if either of you tell Lincoln I said that, you’re dead to me.”

Olive frowned. “Maybe it’s something to do with her condition. We can try and lure her out with grain. I don’t know. When it was time for camp trail rides I usually snuck off to go read.”

They couldn’t afford to be tapped for ideas. They needed to get the two horses on the trailer, and to get the hell out of Dodge—or Long Island—before their owner realized what was happening.

The barn door opened and slammed closed, Harper’s appearance startling them all.

“Hells Spells, Harp,” Vi hissed. “You’re supposed to stay with the Jeep!”

“We need to get this show on the road, witches.” The succubus glanced over her shoulder. “They’re on our tails.”

“Who?”

“The police! Do you not hear the sirens?”