Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(8)

Their friends’ gazes slowly lasered in on them, Harper’s eyes narrowing thoughtfully as the succubus sniffed the air like a pheromone-scenting bloodhound.

Hex me.

Rose folded her arms over her chest and, with a quick call on her Magic, not only hauled in her arousal but rebuilt her walls and then reinforced them with mental titanium for good measure.

What was Captain America’s shield made from again? Because she used that, and prayed to Goddess that it helped.

She dropped her voice, hoping it was low enough to avoid shifter ears. “I’m actually glad that we ran into each other…”

Damian dropped his voice to a sexy purr, making her lady bits practically thrum. “Are you now?”

“Vi told me that you were moving back to the area soon…”

“I did. A few weeks ago.”

“I was hoping we could talk about”—her gaze flicked toward their group of friends—“what happened. Between us.”

“You mean the feel-good fucking…”

Rose shot a panicked look toward her sisters, who were in deep conversation with Linc and Adrian. “Will you lower your voice in shifter company? And yes, I’m talking about what happened at Potion’s.”

He opened his mouth to speak …

“Do not call it a feel-good fuck again. In fact, don’t call it anything.” She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Because it didn’t happen. Right?”

He blinked, closing his mouth. Whatever he’d expected her to say, it obviously wasn’t that. “You don’t want a repeat?”

“No! I mean…” yes, another orgasm would be nice, but, “no. Why? Do you?”

“Fuck no.”

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t help the offense that slipped into her voice.

“Don’t get me wrong, little witch. It was great. And I think we both got what we wanted out of that encounter, but I don’t do repeats. No matter how enjoyable of a time it was.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he’d only be so lucky if she agreed to a round two, but she refrained. “Then we’re in full agreement. No repeat. And absolutely no telling anyone that it happened.”

“Ashamed to have fraternized with a demon?”

“Absolutely not. It’s just no one else’s business.”

He studied her as if searching for any hint of a lie, but he wouldn’t find one. There’d been discord between demons and witches generations back, before the Supernatural Reveal when Supernaturals stepped out of the shadows and into the light—some literally—but those animosities had mostly long since died down. Partly because of Grandma Edie’s hard work. Partly because of pure situational circumstances. And party due to luck.

Nope. Her wanting to keep their non-relationship a secret had nothing to do with his demon side and everything to do with her sisters and Harper, and their incessant romantic interventions.

With a faint nod, Damian’s lips twitched. “Well, you’re in luck, because it just so happens that I don’t talk about my feel-good fucks with anyone, so your secret is safe with me.”

“Good. Great. I’m glad we got that settled.”

The secret might be safe with him, but she wasn’t so sure the same could be said about her libido. As hard as she tried convincing herself that their sexy backroom interlude was a once-and-done thing, her body—and her Magic—pushed back harder, heating the surface of her skin until goose bumps peppered nearly every inch.

And they were both silently communicating, “I don’t freaking think so…”





3





All the Shits


Rose couldn’t count the number of times she’d stepped into the Supernatural Council chambers, but she’d always done so as the Prima Apparent, sitting by her grandma’s side as Edie ran through the Council’s agenda and often played babysitter to the other Supernaturals at the table.

The Council chairs themselves could be the start of a joke …

What happens when you put a witch, a shifter, an angel, a demon, and a vampire all at the same table?

Chaos happened. At least about 40 percent of the time. The remaining 60 was spent showing the world that the Council—who were basically Supernatural Avengers—were ultimate badasses whose bites were definitely as bad as their barks, if not worse.

Less than a year ago, she’d been one of them. Or she’d almost been, and had been training in all things magical kick-assery, and that meant not just Supernatural politics, but actual ass-kicking.

There’d been a reason why Rose always wore heels, and it wasn’t because of her keen fashion sense or because they made her calves look incredible. Sometimes diplomacy only went so far, and when a witch hit roadblocks, you summoned a well-executed bolt of Magic … or aimed a swift kick.

Heels made a statement. Fuzzy rabbit slippers made for a cozy night in.

As Rose waited in the Council lobby, she pondered over which Council she was about to meet and hoped like hell it was the same one Vi, Olive, and Harper had already faced earlier that day. While the attempted horse-napping charges had been dropped by the animal sanctuary owners and the Norm law enforcement, the Supernatural Council hadn’t been as forgiving, issuing community service hours.