Chapter Three

I love my son. I love everything about him, exactly the way he is. For many years, even when I was married to Colin, the world seemed to be just Des and me. I quickly learned his language and needs and how to ensure he felt safe and happy. Did I prioritize him over Colin? Of course. Any father worth a spell would agree our son should’ve come first. Sadly, Colin never saw it that way.

I don’t love my child in spite of his autism. I love my child because he’s amazing and special, but I can’t deny I don’t worry about him, especially how he’d cope should something ever happen to me. And I worry that he might not have a happy and fulfilling adulthood, especially when he’s already had to face so many obstacles. And by obstacles, I mean prejudice, from doctors who’ve scrutinized him as if he’s a lab rat, to other parents and children who’ve said hurtful things, and even his own father who has never understood him.

As hard as it’s been for me to accept, I can’t always be there to protect him. Like every other weekend when I drop him off with Colin and his new wife. Sometimes I think Colin considers taking care of Des a drudgery, which makes me resent my ex more than anything he’s ever done to me. The cheating, lying, and neglect were nothing compared to the day he’d complained about having to ‘babysit’ his own son.

I’d lost my cool that day, scaring Colin when I’d shattered the windows of his car. And, no, I hadn’t done it on purpose. Sometimes when I get very upset, I lose control of my magic. It’s been an issue of mine ever since my parents were killed, and no amount of therapy has been able to fix me.

But Colin never complained about having to ‘babysit’ his son again, and surprisingly, he started working on being a better father after that, either out of guilt or fear. I just hoped his paternal instincts continued to strengthen, otherwise, Colin would lose a lot more windows.

“Des,” I said with a sigh as I turned off the ignition, “we’re here.”

My lanky preteen son hunched over in his seat while staring at his phone screen. I knew he heard me, because he’d turned down the volume on his headphones when we’d pulled into the driveway.

He pulled down his headphones, looking at me with those luminous, dark eyes. “I don’t like it here.”

My heart clenched, and I felt like the world’s worst mom for leaving him, but I’d feel equally guilty if I denied my son time with his father, even if his dad was more aggravating than a curse of raging selkie herpes. A boy needed to know his father—at least that’s what my third-rate lawyer had told me.

“I know you don’t.” I forced a smile while brushing a wayward strand of dark hair out of his eyes. “It’s only two days, and then we’ll have you back to your routine for another two weeks.”

“I don’t like her .” He frowned, looking at something out the front window.

I worked hard to unclench my jaw, for I knew Des’s dad and his much younger new bride, aka Felicity Fartface, aka Homewrecking Barbie, were watching us from the doorway.

Neither do I, I wanted to say, but I kept my thoughts to myself. “Two days, baby,” I repeated.

He let out a slow breath. “Two days.”

“Yep.” I fought the urge to slam the car in reverse and hightail it out of there, but I couldn’t afford more lawyer fees, and ‘a boy needed to know his father,’ even if his father was more worthless than a boil on a troll’s behind. “Two days,” I repeated once again, realizing it was as much for my benefit as it was for his. I cracked a smile. “What do you want me to cook for you when you come home?”

His grin stretched nearly ear to ear. “Pizza.”

“Olives and cheese.” It was more a statement than a question. I knew what Des liked on his pizza. Exactly three olives per slice, with a thick enough crust that his fingers didn’t touch the sauce.

He punched the air. “Yes!”

“Okay.” I cupped his cheek, feeling privileged that only I could touch him like this. “I love you so much.”

An understanding passed between us, and I saw a flash of recognition, even if it was only for a moment, a glimpse of the boy beneath the haze that usually fogged his eyes. As always, he ended contact first, pulling away from me while reaching for the door handle.

“Let’s get this over with,” I grumbled while following after him.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was marching to my own funeral as I followed my son up the steep driveway to the house my ex’s parents had purchased for us as a wedding gift. It was a glaringly white art deco modern monstrosity with zero landscaping save for pale rocks and bristling cacti. I’d hated almost everything about the home, but his parents had already signed the paperwork before I could have a say. It had a big kitchen and a hot tub and pool, so who was I to complain?

My ex-husband and his former secretary were all smiles while waiting for us beneath the tall portico. Colin looked like he’d raided the wardrobes of Mr. Rogers and Keith Richards with a douchebaggy cable knit sweater and (gag) tight, tan leather pants tucked into suede boots. His hair was slicked back in a way that made him look like Elvis’s resurrected corpse. Felicity’s silver-dollar-sized nipples poked through a tight, sparkly crop top that showcased her new, perky double Ds that were big enough to feed a colony of feral gnomes. She wore a tight little skirt that barely covered her skanky crotch, no doubt infested with a raging case of dragon crabs, and she’d caked on enough makeup to encourage every commercial cosmetic industry to resume animal testing. Both were second-rate witches, though one had money and the other had looks, which, no surprise, gave them just enough clout to pretend they were important in the magical realm. To say I loathed and resented them would’ve been an understatement.

Colin squeezed Felicity to his side, his smile appearing plastered to his face. “You look nice.” His beady-eyed gaze raked over me in a way that made me vomit a little in my mouth. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” I answered with a disinterested slur. Yeah, I looked good, mostly because Ethyl had done my hair and makeup, and I’d practically bathed in butter to slip into a pair of tight jeans, but most impressive were my gals suspended in a truly miraculous bra that defied gravity while masking the fact that I had breastfed a hangry baby for two years.

“Where’s my little Dessie?” Felicity flapped up and down like a deranged dragon while talking to my son as if he was a toddler. “There he is!”

I inwardly smiled when she held open her arms for a hug and he slapped her hands away before marching into the house. My glee was short-lived as I watched him flee up the modern, floating staircase with the metallic rails. He’d probably hide in his bedroom all weekend, playing video games while his father and stepmother ignored him.

“We’re going to have so much fun.” Felicity clasped her hands together, speaking through a frozen smile. “I just love that kid.”

I curled my hands into claws, fighting the urge to whip out my wand and deflate her new boobs.

“Can you pick him up early Sunday?” Colin asked.

“Why?” It wasn’t like I didn’t want to get my kid out of their clutches as soon as possible, but why did Colin want to get rid of his son?

“We have a ruggel game to go to. My parents have box seats.”

“Des loves ruggel.” In our realm, ruggel was as important to witches as football/soccer was to humans, or ‘husks’ as those without magic were known in the magical world. Ruggel had many of the same rules as soccer, only the course was more deadly, as in balls randomly exploded, ankle-breaking gopher-gnomes were always wrecking the turf, and even though wands weren’t permitted, they somehow found their way onto the field. It was a wicked good time, so long as you weren’t a player. If tickets weren’t so expensive, I’d take Des every weekend, but only wealthy douche nuggets like Colin’s family could afford to go.

“Yeah.” Colin’s face colored as he shrugged. “But you know how he gets in public.”

I was so angry, I was seeing red. How badly I wanted to curse him with a spell of flatulence. I had to release a slow breath while counting to ten in my head, lest I shatter some windows. “Are you saying you’re ashamed of your son?”

“It’s just...” He gave Felicity a pleading look. “Felicity’s parents will be there, too. It’s not often we can get our parents together.”

I was sure it had more to do with the fact that Colin’s parents scorned witches that weren’t also wealthy, and I knew without a doubt Homewrecker Barbie came from the wrong end of the cauldron. “So?” I nodded toward the stairs where Des had disappeared. “You haven’t seen your son in two weeks, and have I mentioned he loves ruggel?”

“Come on, Luce.”

I resisted the urge to shield my ears when Colin’s whine kicked into high gear, sounding like a dying black cat during a full moon.

I shook my head, inwardly cursing. “Guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“That’a sport!”

I jerked away when Colin patted my back like he was trying to burp a baby.

Felicity made a squeak, and I inwardly cringed, knowing she was trying to get my attention. I could practically feel her eager gaze boring holes through my head. The backstabbing bitch was always pretending she wanted to be my friend, all the while ignoring the fact that she’d been screwing Colin while he and I were still married—a little secret I hadn’t discovered until after I’d asked for a divorce on the night of our anniversary. He’d been too tired to perform in the bedroom that night because he’d spent most of the day bending Felicity over his desk.

“Hey, Luce,” Felicity squealed like a prepubescent mouse as she unwrapped a hard candy and plopped it in her mouth. She was always sucking on small, hard things. No wonder Colin married her. Her penchant for sugar was the only reason I didn’t suspect she was a succubus, though she certainly had the blackened heart of a demon. “I have a small favor to ask of you.”

I glared at my ex’s former mistress. “Luciella.”

“Oh.” She let out a girly giggle and rolled the candy on her tongue while twirling a strand of bleached-blonde hair between her fingers. Gag. “I thought we could be on a nickname basis, since we’re sharing mommy duty.”

Mommy duty? Was this bitch for real? “My son has one mom.” I knew it was petty, but I couldn’t help it. “What do you want?” I didn’t bother hiding the agitation in my voice.

“Oh, okay.” She reached behind her and handed me a rainbow leopard print bag smothered in either unicorn shit or glitter. “I wanted to give you this.”

I glared at the bag, refusing to take it. “What is it?”

Colin snatched the bag from his new wife, tossed the polka-dot tissue to the floor, and pulled out what looked like a framed photo. “A family picture in front of my dad’s boat.”

I backed up when he held it out to me. Sure enough, Colin, Homewrecker Barbie, and my son were standing in front of his father’s 45-foot yacht, trying, and failing, to look regal. Colin’s new-money parents desperately pretended to be old money, and instead came off as thrift-store billionaires. Colin and Des wore cheesy skipper hats, starched collars, and polo shirts while Felicity wore some pixie vomit, hot-pink monstrosity with a neckline that cut diagonally across her chest, leaving only one lonely taffeta sleeve. Whatever makeup or spell that had been used to conceal the Playboy bunny tattoo on her bare shoulder had partially worn off, leaving behind a rabbit with no ears that looked like a worm wearing a bow tie.

I held a corner of the frame away from me as if it was possessed, scowling when glitter dusted my fingers. This woman needed an intervention for her glitter obsession. “Why would I want this?”

Felicity gasped, giving Colin an expectant look, as if he could force his naughty ex-wife to behave.

Colin shoved his hands in his pockets, giving me the pouty lip that melted my heart two decades ago but only annoyed me now. “Felicity thought if you hung it up in your house, it would make Des be more accepting of our family.”

I waved at the photo with a sneer. “Des doesn’t look happy in this photo.” And it wasn’t my job to make Des accept their family. Perhaps if Colin had been a more affectionate and understanding father. But if years of family counseling hadn’t convinced him, he wasn’t about to become Father of the Year now.

“Oh!” Felicity clasped her hands together. “He had a blast on Grandpa’s boat.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. Why was she still talking? “Look at the way he’s dressed.” I held the frame away from me while shaking my head.

She crossed her arms with a pout. “He looks like a gentleman.”

I gave her an accusatory look. “He hates collars.” No doubt this was her idea. Colin had always fought me when it was time to take family photos. I shoved the picture back into Colin’s hands.

Felicity gave Colin another look, one that said she’d keep her brand new, shiny silicone airbags to herself if he didn’t stand up for her.

Colin let out a frustrated groan. “Could you please just take the photo? Felicity went through a lot of trouble framing it.” He shoved the photo back into the unicorn diarrhea bag and held it out to me.

“Fine.” I snatched the bag from his hand. It was going straight to the dumpster. Speaking of dumpsters, I needed to freshen up in time for my date. I spun on my heel, not bothering to say goodbye as I marched toward my car. I dumped the bag in the trunk, swearing when glitter scattered everywhere.

“Oh, Luce!” Felicity called out just as I reached my car door.

I turned back around with a snarl, inwardly swearing as she ran down the steps toward me. My shoulders slumped in defeat. I’d almost made it, and now my stomach was churning because I knew the backstabbing bitch was about to ask for another favor. I gave her a glare that I hoped would melt the false eyelashes right off her face.

“I meant to say Luciella.” Felicity clutched her throat while visibly swallowing. Was it wrong of me to want her to choke on her candy? “One more thing.” She flashed a mouthful of bleached white teeth. “I was wondering if I could get the recipe to your apple pie? I was hoping Des and I could make it this weekend. I know it would mean so much to him if we could do something special together.”

I gave her a long look. Was she for real? There was no way in nine hells I was giving her the Lovelle secret recipe, passed down from my grandmother to my parents.

“I don’t share my recipes, and Des doesn’t like apple pie. That’s Colin’s favorite dessert.”

“You sure?” The bitch couldn’t hold my gaze for more than half a heartbeat. “Des was going on about it last time he was here.”

“That’s a lie,” I blurted.

She jutted a manicured hand on her hip. “Excuse me?”

“Des doesn’t like apples. Period.” I tossed a glare in Colin’s direction as he stood on the porch, shuffling from foot to foot while looking at me as if I was an apparition. “If you want to do something special with him, take him to a ruggel game.”

“Oh.” The color drained from her face. “Colin’s parents only had two extra tickets.”

“How convenient.” I snatched open the car door and sat inside, not bothering to acknowledge her as she hovered outside the window.

I turned on the ignition, laughing under my breath when a song about a cheating ex came on the radio. I was just about to put the car in reverse when Colin rapped on the window.

“Luce, wait,” he called.

I rolled my eyes before cracking the window. “What?”

He leaned toward me, fogging the nice clean air with his farty breath. “Would it hurt you to at least try with Felicity?”

I rolled the window back up with a scowl while wondering what he could possibly eat that would make his breath smell that bad other than his own asshole.

He rapped on the window harder this time.

I let out about a half dozen curse words that would make a siren blush before rolling down the window once more. “Am I supposed to forget the two of you were screwing while we were still married?”

He scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze. “Our marriage had gone stale by then.”

Like your breath? I wanted to tell him. “I’m leaving now. Go spend time with your son.”

AFTER SECOND-GUESSING my deodorant, I’d gone back to my condo to apply another layer, take a pregnancy prevention potion, and also pack my toothbrush just in case I let Ricardo get past second base. Who was I kidding? I was so desperate for a real penis, I’d gladly tape an ‘open for business’ sign on my panties if I thought it would help. I was just about to jump back in my car when I spied the community dumpster across the street. I grabbed the vomit rainbow glitter bag out of the backseat and tossed it in the dumpster, very aware of my nosey next-door neighbor watching me from behind the heavy curtain of her living room window.

Gladys was the kind of human who made witches resent their race. Humans like her were probably the reason the slur ‘husk’ was invented. She made everyone’s business her business to the point that I’d already used a few memory spells on her after she’d peeked over our fence and caught Des practicing magic in our small courtyard. She really needed to get a life, or a vibrator, or both.

Traffic on the way to the bakery had been heavy, tempting me to whip my broom out of the back of my car and fly over the road construction. Yes, we witches flew brooms. Though they made cumbersome full-size ones, we generally preferred the compact ones that resembled umbrellas and fit in our purses or coats. I stewed in my very expensive sedan, (one of my consolation prizes in the divorce.) Ethyl and I still had a wedding cake to decorate and bread dough to make.

I burst through the bakery door, chest heaving, my gaze darting to the clock above the espresso machine. Another half hour to go and Cinnamon-Spiced Latte would be here. I’d just thrown on my apron when a loud rattling noise, reminding me of a rabid rat trapped in a metal box, sounded from the back room.

Puffy!

I raced into the back and threw open the smoking oven door. A scowling little purple dragon no bigger than a Chihuahua emerged from the smoke, looking up at me as if I’d eaten the last of his kibble.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I snorted. “I’ve told you to stay out of the ovens.”

The impertinent little lizard stuck out his tongue and then disappeared in a flash. The only thing worse than a sassy dragon was a sassy invisible dragon.

When smoke continued to pour from the oven, I swore. With a flick of my wand, I pulled out a blackened little ball that reeked of burned cinnamon.

“Puffy!” Ethyl screeched, fluttering into the room, a mop in one hand and suds in her disheveled hair. No doubt a floor-cleaning spell had gone wrong. “Are you okay?”

When Puffy reappeared, his eyes wide and watery, Ethyl cradled her naughty lizard in her arms, kissing the top of his head.

I let out an impatient huff of air. “Next time that dragon burns a coffee cake, he’s banned from the bakery.”

Ethyl turned to me with a pout. “He didn’t mean it.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “Ethyl, if you can’t control your dragon, you’re going to have to leave him at home.”

Ethyl’s lip hung so low, it was in danger of scraping the floor. “It was an accident. He was napping.”

Clucking my tongue, I zapped away the smoke and inspected the oven, scowling at the white pile of goo that looked like giant bird droppings on the bottom. “There’s dragon doo in my oven!”

“Oh, Puffy. Bad dragon!” Ethyl wagged a finger in her dragon’s face. “You know you’re not supposed to make doo doo in Aunt Luci’s oven.”

When the dragon let out a wail that sounded like a dying bird in heat, Ethyl cuddled him closer, plastering kisses all over his face.

“Oh, don’t cry, baby,” she cooed. “Mommy’s sorry.” She turned to me with an accusatory glare while pinching Puffy’s scaly cheeks. “How can you be mad at that face?”

The dragon looked up at me with luminous eyes. I wasn’t fooled. I saw the mischief brewing beneath his lavender gaze. “He’s manipulating you.”

Ethyl stumbled back as if she’d been struck by a verbal spear. “Not my sweet baby.”

The dragon chuckled before disappearing in a poof of smoke.

I gave my assistant a dark look. “Why can’t you be a normal witch and get a cat?”

When Ethyl opened up her arms, I felt the displaced air of Puffy’s wings beating down on my head before I heard him hit a rafter with a squeal.

Ethyl winced, scanning the ceiling for her dragon. “Because I’m not a normal witch. It’s my pixie blood. You know how much we pixies love dragons.”

Grumbling under my breath, I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of paper towels, shoving them in Ethyl’s arms. “Here. Clean up the mess.”

“With paper towels?” Ethyl made a face when she took the cleaning products. “Gross. Why not just use a spell?”

“Because the last time you used a spell to clean up dragon crap, it was dripping from the ceiling.” I fought hard to get that image of dragon droppings dripping into my chocolate cake batter out of my mind.

“It was a slip of the tongue,” Ethyl pleaded, her wings snapping open and buzzing faster than a hummingbird on crack as she tried to hand the cleaning supplies back to me. “I’ll be more careful this time.”

“I know.” I pushed the supplies back against Ethyl’s chest. “Because you’re using paper towels and disinfectant.”

“Luci,” Ethyl groaned, “you know I love you like a sister, but you really need to get—”

“I know, I know.” I shushed my assistant. “But I’m not falling into the sack with him on the first date.” I froze like a gnome in headlights as the familiar rumble of a truck engine sounded in the distance. “Oh, Merlin’s dirty butt plug! He’s here early.” I hadn’t frosted the cake yet. “How do I look?”

Ethyl gave me the once-over. “Like a goddess.”

“Really?”

“Who’s been dragged through Hades,” she added wryly.

My ego fizzled like a sour love potion. “Jeez, thanks.”

Ethyl waved away my concern. “He obviously doesn’t mind your disheveled look, or he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

I held up a silencing hand. “You can stop talking now.”

When the front door chimed, I brushed back my hair and expelled a deep breath, doing my best to shake off nervous energy.

Walking through the swinging door, I stopped as if I’d hit a brick wall.

Ric looked the perfect gentleman with his shoulder-length hair tied back in a queue, a starched collar, and a dress jacket, which complimented his dark denim jeans. But his attire was nothing compared to the beautiful bouquet of violet lilies and purple lavender he held in his hands.

“Hi,” I breathed, feeling as if my feet were propelled on a cloud as I gravitated toward him.

“Hi.” He flashed a devastatingly sexy slanted smile. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks.” I walked around the counter and took the flowers from his outstretched hands. Coyly batting my lashes, I inhaled the bouquet’s fragrant aroma. “Oh, they smell beautiful.”

His eyes lit up like twin suns. “Their beauty is eclipsed by yours.”

What a cheesy thing to say, so why did I feel like swooning? I swore I almost heard the distant sound of a Latin guitar thrumming to a seductive beat as I got lost in his feral gaze.

“I’ll put them in water.” Ethyl snatched the flowers from my hands. I hadn’t heard the pixie approach. “Oh, they look a little droopy.” Ethyl frowned at the flowers, pulling out her lipstick wand.

Heat crept into my cheeks. “No spells, Ethyl.” Last time she’d tried to revitalize a plant, she’d turned the bakery into Little Shop of Horrors.

Ric arched a thick brow. “Are you ready to go?”

“I need to finish a few things. I’ll only be a few minutes.” I spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet.

“I can finish up here,” Ethyl said, her smile appearing frozen in place.

That’s what I was afraid of. I counted down on my fingers. “The cake needs to be frosted, and the dough needs to rise.”

“I know this. I’ve frosted cakes and made dough before.” She swatted my chest with the flowers, then shooed me like I was a stray sprite begging for sugar cubes. “Go on.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to be dismissed that easily as I conjured up all the trouble my apprentice witch could get into without me supervising. “Without magic,” I warned.

She innocently batted her lashes. “Of course, boss. I’ll do it without magic.”

I eyed her coolly. “Promise?”

She drew a pentagram across her chest. “On my word.”

This was a bad idea. I shot my date a nervous glance. Damn, he was so sexy in those tight jeans. Whatever heady cologne he was wearing punched me right in the ovaries, a mixture of sage and something else that screamed ‘I can lick my eyebrows!’ I nervously chewed on my lip. “Ok, but if you have any problems.”

Crossing her arms, Ethyl gave me a stern look. “I won’t.”

Maybe going on this date was a mistake. “The frosting can wait until morning.”

“You’re taking the morning off, too. The cake will be fine.” Ethyl snorted, shooing me away like I was a pesky gnome. “The bakery will be fine.”

My gaze darted to my date, who was looking at me expectantly, his cologne, heated gaze, and full, kissable lips now tying a noose around each ovary and holding them hostage. “I’ll probably be just a few hours.”

She leaned into me, hissing in my ear loud enough for Ric to hear. “You’d better be all night.” Screwing up her face like she’d just sucked on a sour lemon, Ethyl jutted a finger toward the door. “Now go.”

Mortified, I swore my face burned hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Hurrying past Ric, I refused to look him in the eyes. You’re not sleeping with him, you’re not sleeping with him, I chanted to myself, hoping to the Goddess my libido believed it.

NO AMOUNT OF PINE-SCENTED air fresheners could mask the scent of formaldehyde in the cab of Ric’s truck. But that was the least awkward part of our trip. I stared out the window like a zombie in a trance, Ethyl’s words flashing in my brain like a giant strobe light of shame. My assistant had basically blared to the world that I needed to sleep with Ric on the first date. Ric must have thought I was one of those fast and loose witches, which I was not. Heck, I hadn’t been with the opposite sex since my divorce. In fact, the only man I’d ever been with had been Colin.

I’d been a bit of a late bloomer, choosing to study rather than date high-school boys. I met Colin my sophomore year of college. I’d been so naive then, ignoring every blaring siren and waving red flag. I’m not quite sure why he’d been the one. I couldn’t have been turned on by his stale breath and demon-possessed colon. Surely, there had to have been another reason. Oh, yes. His family was loaded. He came from new wizard tech money and offered me something most boys couldn’t—financial security. Something I had sorely missed as an orphaned child.

And now I was dating again even though I had a shop to run and my son to raise. I stared at the lights passing in a blur outside the window and wondered, not for the first time, if agreeing to this date had been a mistake.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

I looked over at Ric, noticing the tension lines in his neck and forehead and the way he clutched the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. “So are you.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged, clutching the wheel tighter. “Today’s been strange.”

I let out a laugh that sounded forced. “To say the least.”

His eyebrows dipped beneath thick bangs. “Your assistant.”

“Speaks without engaging her brain.” Swallowing back a lump of granite, I twisted my fingers in my lap. Guess the awkward elephant in the truck was going to make himself noticed.

“But she obviously cares about you,” he added, his voice softening.

“She does.” I nodded, a wave of guilt washing over me for what I’d said about Ethyl, even though she’d deserved it. “She’s been like a sister to me, which is why I haven’t fired her.” More than a sister, a best friend whose grandmother had taken me in after I’d lost my parents. I would’ve gone to an orphanage if it hadn’t been for Nana Clara, and orphanages in the magical world were only a step up from mental institutions.

“Wish I could say the same for Lenny.” Ric groaned, dragging a hand through his thick hair.

After pulling into the parking lot, he turned off the ignition, and that awkward silence between us magnified without the purr of the truck engine.

“So there’s a werewolf movie that starts at seven-thirty.” He made a big show of checking his watch.

I perked at that. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to see that one.” Even though humans always got the magical realm wrong in movies, they were still fun to watch, mainly so I could make fun of them.

Before I knew it, he was out of the truck and my heart beat double-time. He’d opened the door for me when I’d gotten in, but was I supposed to wait for him to let me out? I wasn’t a helpless damsel in distress, but I’d been absent from the dating scene for so long, I’d no idea proper protocol.

When Ric opened my door, I heaved a sigh of relief. My mother would’ve said he was a true gentleman. She’d been into old-fashioned romance. I couldn’t count the number of classic romance movies and television shows I’d watched with my mother growing up.

Thoughts of my mother nearly made me tear up as I took Ric’s arm and let him lead me toward the movie theater. Forcing myself to calm down, I heaved a slow breath, thanking Ric when he held open the glass theater door.

The theater was teeming with husks. As far as I could tell, there were no other striga (magical folk) here, and not just because I knew all the striga in Santa Fe, but because none of them had auras. All striga had auras, an unusual pale glow that clung to their skin like a shroud and could only be seen by other magical folk. During the day striga usually concealed auras with spells, because of some old dressing down tradition, but at night many liked showing off their glow. The stronger the glow, the more powerful the striga, one reason I chose to keep the concealment spell on even at night. To say my glow was powerful would’ve been an understatement. Because of my unusually strong magic, my aura was practically blinding. The only other witch I knew with a stronger aura was Des. I concealed both our auras for a few reasons, but mainly because I didn’t want to draw any attention to ourselves. Sure, powerful striga were more esteemed, but they were also more coveted, especially by nefarious creatures in the magical world.

After what had happened to my parents, I certainly didn’t want to attract the succubi’s attention, which was why I lived in Santa Fe. Despite the town’s unusual inhabitants, the magical population was surprisingly small. I felt more comfortable around husks than magical folk, anyway, mostly because succubi weren’t attracted to humans, and the soul suckers preferred to be close to their food source, large cities like London, New Orleans, or New York.

Instinct told me Ric’s magic was powerful. I wondered why he didn’t have an aura. Was he concealing his, too? If so, did it have something to do with why he wasn’t in the registry?

I serenely smiled when he purchased two tickets. I could’ve bought my own ticket. My bakery was finally doing well, but I decided to let him continue to play the role of the gentleman, knowing my mom would’ve approved.

Imagine my surprise when my perfect gentleman bypassed the concession stand and walked me straight toward the theater, his hand pressing against the small of my back.

The smell of fresh, buttered popcorn hit me like a frying pan to the head, taunting me with its sweet, salty goodness. No way was I passing up a popcorn and refreshing soda. I didn’t care if Mr. Gentleman made me pay for it myself.

I dug my heels into the carpet. “Hang on.” I nodded toward the stand. “I’m hungry.” My stomach rumbled as if to emphasize my point.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He dragged a hand through his hair while awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “I figured you already ate, since you work in a bakery.”

I let out an unladylike snort. “Do you think I eat donuts for dinner?”

“No.” He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks flushing. “Uh...let me get you something.” He pointed to a backlit menu hanging over the concession stand. “They have a delicious looking kale salad.”

“Kale salad?” I waved a hand down my body. “Do these look like kale salad hips to you?”

“ No.” I thought I saw a beast flash in his eyes as he gave me an appreciative smile. “They certainly don’t.”

Embarrassment heated my cheeks at the way his gaze raked over my body, and I was glad Ethyl talked me into tummy support jeans, though I hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed in my bit of fluff when (and if) I let him peel them back off me. I thought twice about the popcorn as I walked toward the concession stand, but my rumbling tummy reminded me I had skipped supper to fit into these jeans. The least I could do was get a small popcorn. Or a medium. But no extra butter. Well, maybe a little extra. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be satisfied unless those little nuggets were crying out for life preservers while drowning in buttery goodness.

I cringed, stepping back and nearly tripping over Ric’s feet after I got in line behind a pair of husk men that smelled like onions. They were still in their gym clothes, which explained the smell. How considerate they were to skip the showers after their workouts.

I breathed in through a wheeze, then spoke over my shoulder. “I’m just going to get a small bucket of popcorn,” I lied. I was already eyeing the medium while intentionally refusing to guess the calories.

“Popcorn?” He scratched his shadowed jaw. “But they use so much butter here.”

Exactly, I wanted to answer. “ I’m a baker, remember? I’m not afraid of a little butter.”

I gave him a curious look. I sure as heck hoped he wasn’t like Colin, always trying to tell me what to order. First, my date wanted me to eat kale, and now he’s balking at butter. This night wasn’t looking promising, because I wasn’t about to put up with another controlling man, and I forgot to charge my vibrator.

“No, but I am.” He gave me a hopeless look, then swiped his hand across his mouth. Was that drool hanging off his lip?

“Ma’am, can I take your order?”

I spun around, glaring at the pimply-faced husk behind the counter who called me ‘ma’am.’ I didn’t put on two kinds of concealer to be called ‘ma’am.’

“A large popcorn,” I said, deciding to hell with decorum and calories. This was what my date deserved after refusing to take me to a restaurant. I thought I heard him groan behind me. “And extra butter,” I added out of spite while ignoring his second and clearly audible groan. I eyed the self-serve fountain drink machine. “And a large soda, please.” Might as well splurge on all the calories when it was becoming more and more obvious it would be my only pleasure for the night.

I opened my little clutch purse, pretending not to be surprised when the total sounded more like the downpayment on a car, but my date suddenly developed a case of chivalry and slapped a very large bill on the counter.

The tension between us as we walked toward our theater was thicker than the butter pooling on the bottom of the barrel I clutched in my arms. He acted like I had the cooties while motioning toward the stairs, leading me to the very last seat in the back row. I sat down, awkwardly balancing my soda while shoving the popcorn bucket between my legs. The previews had already begun, advertising some zombie movie that completely mischaracterized the living dead. Even though necromancy was forbidden in the magical world, every striga knew zombies preferred roadkill to brains.

Husks also got demons wrong, too. They thought they all had horns, tails, and carried pitchforks, but in reality demons were the succubi, or parasites that sucked souls out of witches and took their bodies for themselves. Humans did have stories of female succubi and male incubi, but we witches usually referred to them all as succubi, inhabiting any magical creature with a heartbeat, though they craved witches with immense power, stealing their magic to create chaos. And if witches refused to let succubi possess them, they’d kill them. I fought back tears while pushing all thoughts of demons from my mind. Not that this date was going particularly well, but sobbing into my popcorn would take it to a new level of low.

Another preview came on, this one a hot and heavy romance that wasted no time letting the moviegoers know they had a good chance of getting laid after the movie. The preview went straight to a chocolate foreplay scene that made me hungry and horny all at once. Great Goddess! I could feel my date tensing beside me while the guy on screen drizzled chocolate across a bare abdomen. Ric’s fingers dug into the armrests while he sat up with a stiff back.

I shifted uncomfortably, choosing to break the tension by offering him some food.

I held up the popcorn. “ Want some?”

He arched away from the bucket as if the odor offended him. “I’d better not.”

I wondered for a moment if he was lactose intolerant, but he ate my buttery cinnamon rolls almost daily. “Are you sure? I don’t think I can eat this all by myself.” I flashed a cheeky grin while waving the bucket under his nose.

I barely had time to react when he let out a menacing growl. His eyes narrowed to feline slits, before his head and jowls rapidly sprouted golden fur, expanding as he swallowed the entire thing, bucket and all, in one gulp.

I gaped at my empty hands, relieved my fingers were still attached. I looked around us, grateful for the dim lights and that we were sitting in the last row. I sure didn’t want to use a memory spell on a theater full of husks.

I looked back at him. His jaw had retracted, and his cheeks were redder than a dragon’s pecker.

“Wh-what just happened?”

“I’m sorry.” He swiped butter and crumbs from his mouth. “It’s my appetite. I can’t control it.”

Well, that explained a lot. I supposed that also meant oral sex was out of the question.

He dragged a hand down his face with a groan. “This was a bad idea.”

“Do you want to leave?” I asked.

When he nodded, I quickly stood, protectively hugging my soda to my chest, just in case whatever beast inside him was thirsty.