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

  And her scent. Goddamn, she smelled heavenly. Like lavender fields and spiced apple, some cool combination of spring and fall.

  After satisfying my starving senses with a nice long drink of her, I finally said, “I’m right on time. As always.”

  “We’ve been here since six thirty,” she snapped, writing my name at the top of her memo pad then underlining it.

  “Actually, I got here at six forty-eight,” said Willard robotically.

  “And I arrived at seven. Right on time.” I turned in my seat, angling my upper body toward her. “Does it bother you that I don’t arrive when you do? If you’d like more of my company, just say the word and I’ll arrive however early you want me.”

  Her gaze snapped to mine, sapphire eyes sparking with fire.

  God, she was so fucking beautiful.

  “I was not implying that I wanted to spend more time with you.”

  “Seemed that way to me.”

  She tapped her pen on the memo pad. “While you weren’t here, we made some preliminary notes on the campaigns we want to propose.”

  “Great. I’d like to hear what you two are proposing.”

  “Why don’t you tell us about your campaign?”

  “No,” I answered firmly. “I want to hear yours first.”

  She opened her mouth to object or agree, I wasn’t sure, because at that moment, in walked Richard Davis.

  He was tall, about my height. Moderately handsome, I suppose. I disliked him. Perhaps more than disliked. The expensive suit and polished veneer barely masked the sinister gleam in his gray eyes, hidden away behind his expensive suit and polished veneer. When he smiled, he reminded me of a snake opening his maw to eat something. Or someone.

  “Good morning, everyone. I hope you all like your workspace.” He gestured wide to the room with one hand, a portfolio in the other and then took the seat opposite Lavinia. Of course.

  “It’s lovely,” she said amiably.

  Willard looked around the room. “It’s big.”

  “I haven’t checked out the computers yet,” I added, “so I’ll let you know.”

  He chuckled like I’d made a joke. I hadn’t. If they dumped some low-tech, shoddy PCs on us, I’d be bringing in my own. Who was I kidding? I’d be bringing in my own anyway or simply using mine at home. I didn’t like my work on other computers that could be accessed for information.

  “Well, if there’s anything you’re missing, just let me know.” Richard opened the leather portfolio and removed three electronic key cards and passed one to each of us. “This will give you access to the building after hours if you decide to work late or on weekends. Security downstairs has been given your names and copies of your IDs, so whoever is on duty will let you up. And this key gets you past the lobby and into this office.”

  We took the keys which were white, rectangular plastic attached to a GMC lanyard.

  He then took out three packets of paper, bound with paperclips, and slid one in front of each of us.

  “A couple of things in here. As stated in the contest guidelines, you’ll be paid for your time. We know that you all are stepping away from your regular jobs to spend time on this campaign, and GMC wants you to be adequately compensated. After all, whatever cause the three of you decide to back will benefit from your work and from the backing of GMC.”

  He aimed his snake-like smile at each of us, lingering on Lavinia, then added, “You’ll need to fill out the W2 in there before you leave today and drop it off with Cynthia at front reception.”

  “Thank you.” Lavinia returned his smile politely.

  She seemed to be our spokesperson since Willard wasn’t quite socially equipped for civilized society, and I wasn’t about to thank this prick for anything. I’d give my thanks to Victor Garrison when I saw him, because this was all coming from him anyway.

  “So!” Richard clapped his hands together. “Seems you all have what you need. In your packets, there’s also an itinerary and a copy of the contest guidelines for you.”

  Lavinia started flipping, looking for it. I couldn’t help but watch the viper in the room. It was always wise to keep your enemies in your line of sight.

  What kind of warlock was he?

  That would be my first mission when I got home tonight. Finding out the extent of his capabilities.

  “Let me help.” Richard reached across the table and flipped her to the right page then patted her hand. “Right there.”

  He was lucky he withdrew and sat back down, because I was about to break off that fucking hand. I could do it with little effort. But then there would be an inquiry.

  Of course, that would obviously ruin my chances of winning this contest. And it might be a little off-putting with the blood and all. Perhaps an overreaction. But I could barely contain the monster inside me wanting to maim this mother fucker.

  And I did mean monster.

  I fucking hated this guy. He was wrong on multiple levels. The first being the fact that he kept flirting with Lavinia and ogling her when she wasn’t watching. I was watching this asshole though.

  I quickly scanned all of the contest guidelines, which took me about forty-five seconds.

  “I know that the first thing on your agenda is to decide on your cause for the PR campaign.” Richard smiled with superiority. “Why don’t you let me hear your ideas?”

  So that he could try to persuade us to choose Lavinia’s, since he was so intent on getting on her good side? Not a chance.

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “We could—”

  “No, I think not,” I interrupted.

  For the first time, Richard’s gaze swiveled to me. Yes, fucker. Look at me.

  “The guidelines also state that the campaign is to be decided by the three of us alone. As stated, we’re to mutually decide upon both the cause and our course of action as a team.” I held his gaze, tapping the guidelines with my index finger. “Of three.”

  Yes, I’d memorized the guidelines that fast, asshole.

  “As your liaison, I’d be interested to hear your ideas.” His gray eyes narrowed with annoyance.

  Like I cared.

  Lavinia opened her mouth to say something, but I stepped in again quickly.

  “I’m sure you would. But I think it best we follow the rules set forth by Mr. Garrison. After all, this is his company and his contest.”

  His lips thinned, his jaw hardened. Touched a nerve there. He didn’t like that reminder. I went on in my casual manner.

  “Anything you might say, good or otherwise, might be construed as undue influence.”

  For a moment, he simply glared at me, obviously trying to intimidate since his smile had slipped altogether. The very edge of magic laced the room. It wasn’t mine or Lavinia’s. And certainly not Willard’s. This magic was…menacing.

  Right when the awkward silence became almost unbearable, Richard’s face cracked into that wide smile.

  “Perhaps you’re right, Mr. Blackwater.”

  I gave him a stiff nod, not dropping his gaze for a millisecond. Of course I was right. And he fucking knew it.

  Richard stood and smoothed his tie. “I suppose I’ll let you all get started then. I’ll check back in later today to see how you’re progressing.” He nodded to Willard. “Mr. Thompson.” Then he smiled wider at Lavinia. “Miss Livvy.”

  Lavinia’s eyes narrowed as he turned and strode out the door.

  “What a dick,” I mumbled.

  “What was that all about? Do you know him or something?” asked Lavinia.

  “Did you see what a misogynistic asshole he is?” When she turned to me with raised brows, I added, “He used mine and Willard’s last names properly but called you Miss Livvy. Like you’re a little girl or something.”

  Her confused expression morphed into a radiant smile that punched me right through the chest.

  “You’re defending my womanhood?”

  I suppose I was. Among other things.

  She let out a little laugh, and that sma
ll, sweet sound eased the tension tightening every muscle in my body since Dick had walked through the door.

  “That’s kind of you, Gareth, but I’m used to it.”

  “Used to it?” I couldn’t hide my disgust.

  She laughed again and stacked her papers. “If I got angry every time a man was condescending to me with sweetie, honey, baby, or any number of belittling names to knock a woman down a peg, I’d be nothing but a ball of rage. Now let’s get back to business.”

  The fact that she could brush his behavior off and return to our task so easily told me two things. First, men who treated women this way were pigs and should be taken to slaughter. And second, she was more bewitching than I ever realized.

  Chapter Two

  ~LIVVY~

  * * *

  In addition to telepathy and his dark-and-broody, hot-as-fuck aura, I could now add photographic memory to my list about Gareth Blackwater. He’d flipped through the guidelines and knew them by rote. I had no doubt that if I asked him to recite the rules, he could. Word for word.

  What I found even more fascinating, and humorous, was him getting bent out of shape over Richard Davis. Yes, the man was attracted to me, and yes, he was a chauvinistic prick. I’d dealt with men like him before. Still, I could barely suppress my smile with the way Gareth got his panties in a bunch and then got rid of him.

  “Let’s get more comfortable.” Gareth rose from the table and walked over to the lounge area then sprawled on one, arm across the back of the sofa.

  Willard followed. I sighed, picked up my memo pad and contest guidelines then did the same.

  “Since you won’t share first,” I told Gareth, taking a seat on the other sofa where Willard had, “I will.” Placing my notes in my lap, I said, “My proposal for our campaign is that we bring awareness to the werewolf problem.”

  A frown pinched Gareth’s brow. “Go on.”

  “You remember what happened with my sister Violet a few weeks ago and the Blood Moon pack?”

  He nodded. He and his cousin Henry had accompanied Mateo and Nico to find and save Violet when she’d been kidnapped by the pack. Of course, there was no need to save her, because apparently she had decided that the werewolves’ demand for ransom was reasonable. Also, she was fully capable of saving herself with her telekinetic abilities.

  “Violet has made us all aware that it isn’t just the Blood Moon Pack who need her charmed tattoos to help them control their werewolves. And it goes beyond that. There’s a negative stigma attached to the werewolf clans because of their tendency toward violence, which again isn’t fully in their control. This stigma has prevented them from being accepted among the supernatural guilds, which is just wrong. I want to change that. They should be included with their own guild like the rest of us.”

  Willard had already heard my spiel so I turned to Gareth for a response. But there was none, at first.

  Then finally, “Willard, what’s your cause?”

  “Wait, don’t you want to respond or debate me on this?”

  “No,” he answered coolly. “I want to know Willard’s cause first then I’ll share mine and we’ll discuss.”

  I wasn’t going to argue for argument’s sake. He was right. That was the best way to do it. So I sat back as Willard leaned forward.

  “My idea is that we regulate vampire dens.”

  When he didn’t go on, just like the first time we had this discussion, I turned to Gareth, “Before you got here—”

  “Right on time,” Gareth interrupted irritatingly.

  Glaring for a second, which only made his lips twitch in amusement, I continued, “Willard explained that he doesn’t think the vampire blood dens are regulated or policed enough. He had a friend who nearly bled to death when she consented to be a blood host, and there were hardly any repercussions for the vampire who did it.”

  “Where? Here?” Gareth’s voice had dropped into a deeper, dangerous register tinged with anger.

  I knew what he was thinking, and there’s no way Ruben Dubois would allow any vampire to get away with that shit under his watch. As overlord of vampires here in New Orleans, he would never let it happen.

  “No,” said Willard. “It was in Baton Rouge actually. But the vampires have such free rein because of the power structure that if their overlord isn’t an honorable man, or if he’s lazy, they can get away with whatever they want.”

  What he said about the power structure was true. Next to Enforcers—witches and warlocks who had the ability to completely wipe any supernatural of all magical gifts—the vampires were the most powerful. This was why my sister Jules, an Enforcer, was head of the NOLA supernatural covens and given the duty to keep the peace, rather than Ruben.

  Since the population of vampires greatly outnumbered the Enforcers among us, vampires held the most power of the supernaturals. Willard’s proposition wasn’t a bad one. The blood dens where vampires brought human and supernatural hosts to drink their fill were also run by vampires. So if the overlord in charge was a dick, he or she could easily look away when their kind was misbehaving.

  Still, I thought my cause was more immediate. Willard’s issue should be addressed through the coven guilds, but the werewolf problem was bigger and needed serious attention.

  That was one key purpose of this PR campaign. Mr. Garrison had directed us to choose a supernatural cause that needed awareness and funding, one that could make a difference.

  Gareth seemed to let everything sink in, then his demeanor shifted from calm and cool to grave and serious.

  “My proposition is to develop a foster program for supernatural orphans.”

  I have no idea what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

  He went on, dark eyes watchful. “Supernatural orphans are a grossly neglected population.”

  “There’s a foster system—” started Willard.

  “For humans,” Gareth interrupted. He didn’t seem angry at Willard’s easy dismissal, but he was adamant. “This is the problem. No one sees the need, but I can tell you definitively that a supernatural in human foster care is a living hell for a child. And that’s assuming the child is paired with a family that actually gives a shit and wants a child at all, as opposed to the government check that comes with them. If not, it can be even worse.”

  For the first time since I’d met this man, an emotion of vulnerability broke across his expression. It was fleeting. There and gone in a millisecond. But I knew without a shadow of doubt that he had suffered in foster care personally.

  I jotted down his cause on my pad. “I can’t believe there isn’t a foster care program for supernaturals already in place.”

  “There’s no fleshed-out program but there’s an agency led by the High Witch Guild that places orphans via the SuperNet. However, nine times out of ten, there aren’t enough families willing to take an orphan into their home. Or the case agent is overloaded, so they farm them out to the human foster program just to get them placed.”

  “We have that many supernatural orphans who can’t be placed in our communities?” I asked.

  “A witch and warlock couple may not want to take on a werewolf. A vampire couple may not want to take on a grim.” He said this matter-of-factly but there was sharpness to his tone. “Besides, supernatural couples on the very short list looking for children who even find a match in their own designation don’t always want a child who’s too old or troubled or who has a history of violence. For werewolf children, that’s basically a given.”

  “I’m ashamed to say that I never thought about this before,” I confessed.

  His steely expression softened the barest fraction. “Most don’t. Unless you’ve lived it. Can you imagine being the only witch in a human family, unable to talk to anyone about your magic? About what you’re thinking and feeling or how to hide this secret while not even knowing the extent of your abilities? Can you imagine puberty among humans?”

  Willard made a choking sound. “That...that would not be good.”

&n
bsp; Understatement of the year. Puberty for supernaturals was a nightmare cocktail of hormones and exploding magical abilities. I remember Violet and I getting into a hormonal rage-fest when I was sixteen. She’d nearly thrown a TV through the window with her TK because I’d borrowed her favorite boots without asking her. It had taken Dad’s very expert mediator skills to calm us down before we tore the house to the ground.

  “Wow,” I whispered to myself, trying to do exactly what Gareth said. Imagine a lonely child of our kind among people who not only may not want him but may not understand him on the most important level for a super.

  The thought of Gareth suffering this way cut me to the heart. But in true Gareth fashion, he made sure I didn’t pity him for long.

  “Sympathy is an unnecessary emotion, Lavinia,” he stated with a little bite and a lot of arrogance, tapping his pants leg with his forefinger. “Especially for someone like me. But what you can do is circle my cause on your little memo pad there, because it’s the most urgent of the three.”

  How did the man make me feel sorry for him and want to punch his pretty face all in the span of one minute?

  “I realize that you think you’re always right, but I think we should debate whether or not your cause is the best for our campaign.”

  “Well, actually,” said Willard, “I think it’s pretty obvious that kids should come before misbehaving vampires.”

  “Thank you, Willard.”

  Gareth smiled brightly. He rarely did, and on this occasion, I noted his canines were sharper than the average person’s. Not like a vampire, mind you, but still, it made me stare and wonder.

  “I knew you’d see things my way. As for your cause, Lavinia.” His smile slipped, brow furrowing in concentration. “The werewolf issue is a serious problem. I’ll agree with you.”

  “Miracles do happen,” I grumbled.

  “But…” he grinned, “there’s already a campaign under way. I’ve been informed that Ruben and your sister Jules are currently forming a plan of attack to bring the werewolves into the guilds.”

  Agitated that of course he already knew this, I replied, “True. But they haven’t even gotten started. And it’ll take more than my sister and Ruben to bring international awareness to the issue.”