Always Practice Safe Hex: An Enemies to Lovers Witch Romance (Stay a Spell Book 4) Read online

  Always Practice Safe Hex

  Juliette Cross

  Copyright © 2022 by Juliette Cross

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  *Cover Design by Jennifer Zemanek

  *Editing by Gemma Brocato

  For Krys Kruse—

  I don’t know what I did so right for the angels to drop you into my life, but I’m so damn grateful.

  * * *

  Thank you for being an amazing friend as well as the best work buddy ever. XO

  Contents

  Livvy and Gareth’s Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Resting Witch Face

  Also by Juliette Cross

  Livvy and Gareth’s Playlist

  People are People - Depeche Mode

  Strangelove - Depeche Mode

  I Melt with You - Modern English

  Lullaby - The Cure

  I Wanna Be Your Slave - Måneskin

  Darkside - Neoni

  Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode

  Add It Up - Violent Femmes

  Bounce - Timbaland, Missy Elliott, Justin Timberlake, Dr. Dre

  Birthday Sex - Jeremih

  Grind with Me - Pretty Ricky

  Stroke Me - Mickey Avalon

  Closer - Nine Inch Nails

  Lovegame - Lady Gaga

  You’re Mine - Phantogram

  You Belong to Me - Cat Pierce

  Dark Side - Cece and the Dark Hearts

  Hatef**ck - The Bravery

  Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder

  NFWMB - Hozier

  Devil's Playground - The Rigs

  Prologue

  ~LIVVY~

  * * *

  I couldn’t control myself. The second I laid eyes on that damn grim reaper, I bee-lined through the party, pretending my final destination wouldn’t be right by his side. There was something perversely compelling in my lust/hate roller coaster ride of emotions for this man.

  He’d been annoyingly arrogant from the first day of the contest when we’d met. The second time we met at our semi-final interviews, he both complimented and cut me in the same breath with that icy tongue of his. Finally, he’d been dominant and pushy on the way out of that last interview, then he had the audacity to accuse me of using my magic as an Influencer to roll over the judges in this PR contest we were both competing for.

  To say he rubbed me wrong was an understatement. The fact that he also rubbed me so ridiculously right was absolutely maddening.

  And the way he looked at me. Jesus, take the wheel.

  No. Jesus, look away.

  Because there was nothing but delicious, dark sin in those obsidian eyes currently tracking me with such intensity across the room.

  Gareth Blackwater was a pleasurable and maddening shock to my senses. From his always-in-place coal-black hair to his fair complexion to his razor-edged jaw and prominent brow, he was a feast for the eyes. Also, he was a cocky, annoying know-it-all.

  People were mingling, eating, and drinking, but mostly waiting for the big announcement of who the three finalists would be.

  Victor Garrison, President of Garrison Media Corporation, lingered toward the front of the reception room near the microphone, talking to his Chief Operation Officer, Marianne Mixon.

  I grabbed a glass of Merlot at the bar then meandered over to stand right next to Gareth.

  I’d gotten my sister Clara to give me one of her super-spells to block his powerful aura that was basically a concoction of sex-clenching, mind-buzzing lust. So far, so good.

  Smiling at the holiday song piping out of the speakers, I kept my gaze on the stage, eagerly awaiting the announcement. But also, wanting to pretend nonchalance and see if Clara’s shielding spell could really block the effect Gareth’s aura had on me.

  I smiled. “They’re playing your song, Mr. Blackwater.”

  Of course, the slow, sultry rendition of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” reeked of sex and suggestive innuendo, which made me grimace. I didn’t want him to think I found him sexy. Which I so did. Despite my best instincts.

  Then I felt it. A powerful pulse of magic followed by a wave of dizzying desire that made my thighs sweat and my nipples tingle. So much for Clara’s aura-blocking shield. He cracked it without even seeming to try. Just standing there with his ice man demeanor and aura of I-don’t-give-a-fuck, like he wasn’t slaying me with his insane sex mojo.

  “Are you alright, Lavinia?”

  Why did he always use my full name? Nobody else did. And why did it sound so carnal and lascivious dripping from his overly full lips and rumbling out of his lusciously wide mouth? I was distracted for a second, imagining what those beautiful lips would feel like whispering something naughty against my skin.

  He stepped closer. “You seem upset.”

  I snapped my gaze back to the dais at the front. “Just something I thought would work and didn’t.”

  I was about to walk away, needing space from the grim whose wicked aura was breaking me into little, sweaty pieces when Victor Garrison stepped in front of the mic. He welcomed everyone, drawing us all into silence. After all, the party-goers were here for one and only one reason—to find out the names of the three finalists who would compete for the big prize.

  “I won’t make you all wait any longer,” said Victor. “This was a very tight competition. As you may recall, we had you interview in groups of three. After analyzing your portfolios and interviews, we grouped you according to whom we thought you’d work with best.”

  Gareth cocked a haughty, black brow down at me.

  “Don’t look at me,” I told him, knowing that arrogant look he was giving me was because we, along with another warlock, were grouped together. “I can’t help it if their grouping skills suck.”

  Then, he laughed.

  Goddess have mercy!

  Gareth in his usual broody, austere state was disturbingly attractive. But when he laughed? Damnation and hellfire. He was like a dark angel showering us lowly humans with a glimpse of heaven.

  I turned away abruptly, shielding myself from his hypnotic allure and trying to focus on Victor who was in the process of announcing the winners. This was what I was here for. Not to get tied up in knots over this enigmatic, cocky grim who happened to be my rival and who unfortunately set my body on fire.

  “Without further ado,” said Victor, smiling across the small gathering in the reception room, “the team we’ve selected as the finalists for the Garrison PR
Competition are…Gareth Blackwater, Livvy Savoie, and Willard Thompson.”

  First, a wash of pure joy zapped through me as I beamed and nodded nicely at those giving us applause. Second, I realized I’d be spending a hell of a lot more time with the man standing stiff as a board next to me.

  Gareth lifted his glass to the room then turned to me. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw seemed sharper. “Cheers, darling. You’re stuck with me now.”

  Victor led the room in his own toast, congratulating all of us again, but my brain and body were both buzzing. Gareth wasn’t happy about this news either. Seems I wasn’t the only one feeling the nerves that we’d have to get along to some extent for the sake of the contest.

  It was a competition, but we’d be required to work cohesively as a team on the public relations project.

  “You don’t seem very happy about it,” I said, watching him gulp down bourbon like it was water. “Is it because you have to share the spotlight with two others? I’m sure that’s difficult for you.” I couldn’t help teasing him. Something about him made me want to poke and pull and fucking misbehave.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, holding my gaze. “I prefer to work alone.”

  “Oh, I see.” I smiled lightly, taking a sip of my wine. “Never had a menage, have you?”

  Poke, poke.

  His jaw clenched before he replied coolly, “No.”

  “I’m surprised,” I said with exaggerated glee. “You should give it a try, Gareth.”

  He didn’t flinch. His dark gaze held tight to mine. “Why’s that?”

  “It might loosen you up. It’s fun to let loose and lose control sometimes.”

  I realized a split second too late that Gareth Blackwater should not be poked.

  “During sex,” he said in that low, deep baritone of his, leaning close and giving me a whiff of his clean, masculine scent, “being in control is the only way I get off.”

  Suddenly, a tendril of magic wrapped around me, like a silken scarf. The hair on the back of my neck rose, then a vision popped into my head.

  I was naked and bound and bending over black, silk sheets on a large bed. I couldn’t move, then a large, gentle hand wrapped around my nape. It was Gareth standing behind me. The fiendish look of lust in his gaze turned me on as he reared his hand back and spanked my ass. I flinched, then I moaned with pleasure.

  Gasping, I came out of the vision, my pulse pounding, blood racing. That wasn’t my vision. That was his. I stared at Gareth in shock for two reasons. One was that he’d had a deliciously filthy fantasy of me. The second was a secret I’d just learned about grim reapers.

  I cleared my throat and whispered, “You’re a telepath?”

  Knowing he’d get the message, I faced him fully and telepathed a message while holding his cold gaze. Our minds linked with a buzzing snap.

  Dream on, grim. It’ll never happen. You aren’t the only one who prefers control. And I’d never hand the reins over to you.

  His nostrils flared as he stepped even closer, mouth partly open as if trying to figure out what to say. For several seconds, he said nothing at all, devouring me from head to toe with those predatory, black eyes. Then he gave me a stiff nod.

  “Congratulations, Lavinia.” He upended his tumbler, downing the last of his bourbon, drawing my attention to the muscles working in his pale throat. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

  Then he abruptly turned and stormed toward the exit. For a minute or two, I simply stood there, still in shock at that vision.

  I then circulated the room in a daze, receiving congratulations from the other semi-finalists and Mr. Garrison as well as the Director of Marketing who would be overseeing the competition, Richard Davis.

  But I couldn’t remember a thing anyone even said to me. My mind was wholly distracted with thoughts of black silk sheets, pale skin, and the distinct, sharp rap of a hand smacking flesh.

  Buckle up, I warned myself. This was going to be one hell of a ride.

  Chapter One

  ~GARETH~

  * * *

  Outwardly, I was cool as ice. Dressed in black slacks and a gray dress shirt, I rotated my wrist, feeling the comforting weight of the Smart watch I custom designed. Everything was in its place. But inwardly, I was a fucking inferno of emotions.

  Today, I’d finally see Lavinia again.

  Since the party last month when it was announced that we’d be two of the three finalists in the PR contest sponsored by Garrison Media Corporation, I’d been spending the majority of my time trying not to think about her. So of course, I’d done nothing but.

  She was an Influencer and one of the Savoie sisters’ coven, so her magic had to be to blame. That’s what I kept telling myself anyway. That the gut-ripping attraction I felt for her was nothing more than Warper magic. Influencers, also known as Warpers, typically earned the name.

  They could warp a person’s sense of control and willpower to do whatever they wanted. That’s all this was, I repeated to myself as the elevator dinged, announcing my arrival on the top floor.

  I stepped into the lobby and stopped at the desk of the receptionist who I’d met at the semi-finalist interview.

  “I’m Gareth Blackwater.”

  She smiled. “I’m Cynthia. Yes, I remember you.” A blush colored her cheeks. “This way, Mr. Blackwater.”

  I was well aware that my grim aura had a certain effect on people. Human and supernaturals. Her blush could mean a number of things. Perhaps my aura had her thinking about a secret sin she’d like to be acting on right at that moment. Grim auras pushed others to want to do their darkest desires. The ugly or carnal ones they kept hidden away from the world.

  So I was used to the pink cheeks and eye averting thing.

  Of course, her blush might also mean she was attracted to me. It was always hard for a grim to know. Either way, it didn’t matter. The pretty receptionist wasn’t on my radar, and this contest was business. I was determined to win this contest, and not for reasons others might think.

  I didn’t need the prize money. I’d be donating it any way to my cause that needed a dire influx of cash. It was what money couldn’t buy that this contest offered my cause. I had to convince my other opponents, Lavinia and Willard, that mine was the best option.

  I followed the receptionist down a long corridor where she took a left, leading us past several offices buzzing with activity. Finally, we reached the last door on the right which stood open. She gestured for me to enter.

  “Mr. Davis will be joining you all soon.”

  I cringed at his name, wishing he wasn’t the liaison for our project. I hated the man on sight at the semi-final interviews. For one, he emitted a dangerous kind of energy only grims could detect. Dark magic coursed through our blood. Like knew like.

  The second reason was the way he looked at Lavinia. Not like the average man looked at an attractive woman, but like a predator sighting his prey. Something base and violent stirred inside my chest at the memory of the way he stared at her.

  “Thank you,” I told the receptionist calmly then walked into the large workroom.

  My pulse catapulted faster at the sight of her. I thanked the supernatural gods that witches didn’t have the heightened senses that the rest of us had. Until I reined myself under control over this woman, I would pretend she had no effect on me. At least, that was the current plan.

  She sat across from Willard at a long table. The rest of the large workspace was filled with three desks, including desktops, and a lounge area with two sofas arranged in an L-shape, and a coffee table. There was also a small kitchenette station with a mini-fridge and microwave. This would be ideal for working through meals on our campaign.

  Now, to discover what our campaign would actually be.

  “Good morning,” I greeted them both as I strode toward the table.

  They both turned, Lavinia’s eyes widening at the sight of me. A small tell. The sudden increase in her heart rate was more of one
.

  I knew that I’d annoyed the fuck out of her on more than one occasion. But I also knew that when I’d slipped up and let her see my little fantasy of her tied up in my bedroom, she had a very different reaction than I’d expected. Arousal.

  This little working relationship might get complicated really fast if she continued to react to me that way. Because I sure as hell wasn’t one to deny my urges. If she was on board, then so was I. Rivals or not.

  “Morning,” said Willard, standing and shaking my hand a little awkwardly.

  “What’s your designation again?” I asked as I took a seat on Lavinia’s other side. “Healer?”

  “Uh… yeah,” he said, frowning. “Are you psychic?”

  Lavinia arched a brow at me, wanting to know the answer. I gave her a smile.

  “No. That is one thing I am not.”

  She narrowed those midnight-blue eyes at me. Now that she knew I was telepathic, it was likely eating her alive at what else I could do. If she only knew.

  “Good morning to you, Lavinia,” I said a little more intimately since I was now seated right next to her.

  She turned to her notepad and scribbled something. “Nice of you to join us.”

  Her irritated tone skated right over me. At the moment, I was taking her all in. Wearing black tights with tiny white skulls, a red corduroy miniskirt, and a white, fuzzy sweater that made my fingers itch, she looked utterly delicious. Better than I remembered.