36. Evalee

EVALEE

D o you ever get the feeling that the whole world has gone wonky and you’re smack dab in the middle of the wonkiness? Well, if you haven’t, trust me when I say a wonky-filled world can be a very confusing place to live in.

“So, you’re saying there’s no such thing as a zombie witch?” I gesture at the door. “Because if so, then what the hell is that out there?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a zombie witch.” His lean muscles flex as he grasps the doorknob. “But I think she might be the first of her kind.”

Great. Another first of their kind, like me. Just what we need right now.

“Who created her?” I kick some clothes out of the way to make more room in my tiny closet. “She didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Zombies are created by other zombies biting them. Or by someone putting a zombie virus in them.”

Hunter lifts a shoulder, shrugging. “I have no idea who could’ve done it, especially since they would’ve had to have gotten into the house to either bite Ryleigh or inject her with the virus. And this house is one big, magical charm booby trap.” Concern creases his forehead. “We need to find out who did it and why, in case they’re planning on making more. The last thing Mystic Willow Bay needs is a bunch of magically juiced-up zombies running around town.”

I wonder if he feels the same way about me. Perhaps that’s the real reason why he said that the Mystic Willow Bay Society was finding a safe place for me to hide. Maybe they’re just getting rid of me.

“Stop it,” he says. “I’m not thinking that.”

“Thinking what?” I ask, wondering if he somehow read my mind.

“That this town doesn’t need you around,” he says. “And don’t try to deny it. I could see the thought written all over your face.

I frown. Mother of all transparent witches, am I that obvious? If so, just how much has Hunter seen through my expression? Did he know I was once in love with him? Does he know I’m confused about my feelings for him now? Does he know I pulled a succubus last night and tried to seduce him in a dream?

“Quit worrying,” he says, his voice softening. “Everything will be okay.”

“Really? Huh.” I give a stressing glance at the door. “Can you promise me that?”

He nods, his gaze welded to mine. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“Well, I’ll gladly hold you to that promise.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Starting with you not harming Ryleigh. Because, if you do hurt her, then you’ll hurt me.”

He sighs. “I can’t just let her go and eat everyone’s brains in the entire town.”

“Huh. I never thought I’d hear that sentence come out of your mouth …” I trail off as he gives me a we-so-don’t-have-time-for-this look. “Fine, I’ll stop. But I still don’t want you to hurt Ryleigh. There’s got to be another way to handle this situation.”

He heaves a weighted sigh. “Fine, then what do you propose we do? Because all of my ideas require some form of hurt.”

“Well, we could just let her nibble on a few brains that belong to some not-so-nice witches,” I suggest. “Or vampires.”

He shakes his head. “While I can think of a few people who might deserve that sort of punishment, once a zombie gets a taste for brains, they become even more brain-hungry. And stronger. So, eventually the problem will only escalate.”

“Do you think she hasn’t eaten a brain yet?”

“I’m hoping so, since the only other people in the house are Opal and Peyton. And I doubt she went outside, and then came back.”

“She could’ve eaten Peyton’s bat’s brain and Opal’s brownie’s brain.”

“I’m not sure bat and brownie brains are on a zombie’s menu.”

I shrug. “You never know.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He muses over something. “I guess we could find out. Use one of them as bait. And my vote is for the brownie.”

I swat his arm. “No way. That’s cruel. Besides, you just declined my similar offer to let her feed off evil witches.”

“Brownies and bats aren’t the same as witches,” he says. “Especially perverted brownies that stalk witches unknowingly.”

I roll my eyes. “Is that what this is about? You think because Opal’s brownie has been licking your face and watching you change, she should get her brain eaten? First off, you kind of let it lick and watch you. And second, I don’t think the proper punishment for that is getting its brain eaten.”

“I only let it lick my face and watch me change because I thought brownies didn’t have sexual feelings,” he gripes, frustrated. “If I’d known, I never would’ve let it.”

“Sure you wouldn’t have.” I lean against the wall beside the door with my arms crossed. Something about his words remind me of a conversation I overheard—well, more like eavesdropped on—between Opal and him, right before all zombie brains hit the fan. “Just like you don’t make out and do who knows what—but it probably requires the removal of your shirt—with every pretty witch that bats her pretty, little eyelashes at you.”

Shaking his head, he reaches over, snags my arm, pulls me toward him, and places his hand against the door beside my head, trapping me in place. Somehow, he manages to hold onto the doorknob with his free hand with zombie Ryleigh still trying to bust inside.

The door smacks against my back and repeatedly jostles me forward, making my chest bump into Hunter’s. But he doesn’t move back.

“First of all, how many times have I told you that you’re the only witch I call pretty.” His gaze is intense, but his tone carries a drop of playfulness. “And secondly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you sound a little jealous.”

“Yeah, so what?” I retort stupidly. “It kind of sucks that you swap spit with almost everyone.”

“Almost everyone?” he challenges with an arch of his brow. “You’re making me sound like a manwhore.”

“Maybe you are a manwhore,” I quip. “You have done a lot of stuff with a lot of witches.”

“No, I haven’t.” He slants his body closer to mine. “You just think I have.”

“I think you have because I’ve seen you with a ton of different girls. And I really doubt you’ve just been friends with them all,” I remind him, my heart aching.

I tell it shut the evil dancing leprechauns up, that it shouldn’t be reacting that way since I have no clue whether I’m still in love with Hunter or not. My heart has other ideas, though, and continues to clench and crack and throb and do every other cliché heartbreaking reaction in the book.

Way to be original, heart.

“You’ve only seen what I wanted you to see.” He leans even closer, his chest aligning with mine.

“So, you’re saying that you haven’t hooked up with a bunch of girls?” I ask with cynicism. “That you’re a virgin or something?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But I haven’t hooked up nearly as many times as you think I have.”

A week ago, I wouldn’t have doubted him because, a week ago, I didn’t think Hunter would ever lie to me. But this dressed in black jeans, a matching shirt, and leather studded bracelets Hunter standing in front of me just might be a big, stinking liar.

Okay, okay, he really doesn’t stink. In fact, he smells very nice, like cologne and soap. But he still could be a liar!

“You think I’m lying to you?” he questions, his eyes flashing with hurt.

I shrug as the door bangs against the back of my head. “I don’t know … I don’t really know you. And you’ve lied a lot, so who’s to say you’re not lying now?”

He shakes his head, his lips twitching in irritation, which only makes me more agitated.

“I’m not lying,” he says in a low voice. “And I’ll prove it.”

I roll my eyes. “You can’t possibly?—”

He seals his lips to mine, kissing the words right from my mouth.

I suck in a huge breath through my nose and press back against the door, trying to break our mouths apart.

He doesn’t really want to kiss me. I’m a succubus! I’m seducing him right now!

When his tongue parts my lips, all rational thoughts going flying away to the full moon. Which apparently is becoming a theme when it comes to us kissing.

He groans as his tongue tangles with mine, his hand still gripping the doorknob. “I’m not lying,” he whispers against my lips. “You can feel that I’m not, right?”

I bob my head up and down, realizing what he’s doing—using our shared magic as a truth detector.

“I’m not as big a manwhore as you think,” he promises, kissing me once, twice, three times. “I just wanted you to think I was.”

“Why?” I asked dazedly with my eyes shut.

“Because it kept me from going after what I want.”

“Oh.” I’m probably going to sound like an idiot for not knowing, but since I can’t figure it out, I have to ask, “What do you want?”

He sighs, his breath dusting my lips. “Oh, Eva, if only you could see yourself like everyone else does.”

“I do,” I tell him. “Trust me; I know what I am better than anyone else does.”

“No, you don’t.” And then he kisses me again.

And kisses me.

And kisses me …

Holy melting pots, why do his kisses have to be so wonderful?

Even when zombie Ryleigh keeps banging on the door, his kisses make me feel dazedly content. Deep down, though, I know it’s probably the worst time ever to be making out in the closet with the guy I’ve had a crush on forever, especially since he doesn’t know I’m more than likely seducing him with my sex goddess powers. I should stop the kiss.

I need to stop this!

But my lips have a mind of their own and continue moving against his. My legs are dirty little traitors, too, looping around Hunter’s waist because apparently the like to grind up against him.

Letting out a groan, he holds me up with one hand while his other hand remains on the doorknob. Then he starts rocking his hips against mine, causing those wonderful sensation to flutter inside my tummy again. A sensation that has me craving more and to the point of tearing his shirt off to get it.

That thought snaps me out of my trance.

I jerk back, panting for air, and sputter the truth before I chicken out. “I have succubus blood in me, and that’s why you want to kiss me!” Which just may be the weirdest words ever to end a kiss.

Yep. I’m a freak.