Witching Your Step - Book Two: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by M. L. Briers

  “You spoke our Lord’s name…”

  “But not in vain or in a bad way,” he said, cutting her off and pointing that out.

  Sister Margaret huffed. “I’m sure there was an element of deviousness and sarcasm in there somewhere, and God doesn’t like smart-farts,” she grumbled back.

  “Is she allowed to say fart?” Sebastian asked Delta, and the elder held her hands up in mock surrender as the vampire beamed her a conspiratorial grin.

  “Do not drag me into your love-to-hate relationship,” Delta said. “I’m far too short-tempered to not lose this calm and pleasant disposition around you.”

  “Pleasant,” Sister Margaret snorted a chuckle that everyone present knew she didn’t mean.

  “Right back at you, penguin,” Delta muttered, bristling at the woman’s attitude.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Sebastian said, holding up his hands between them as if to hold them apart, and turning to look at the nun. “Am I allowed to mention your gender, or is that considered un-nun-ly?”

  “Un-nun-ly? Gee, you have such a way with words,” Sister Margaret bit out. “Just because I wear a habit, doesn’t mean I’m not a woman.”

  “She just hides it well with her outfit and her demeanour,” Delta muttered back, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Should I get the jello and the wrestling pool?” Sebastian asked, and got a steely glare from both women. “We’ll put a pin in that one for later.”

  “What are you two doing all the way out here?” Sister Margaret said, eyeing them both with a look of suspicion that was designed to make someone feel guilty. The trouble was that neither a vampire nor a witch had much of a conscience in her opinion.

  “Same could be asked of you,” Delta snapped.

  “Answering a question with a question,” Sister Margaret said, nodding. “A sure sign someone is up to something they shouldn’t be.”

  Delta rose to the occasion. “It wasn’t a question, Sister Sherlock, it was a statement of…”

  “So what are you doing here?” Sister Margaret said, like a dog with a bone.

  Delta bristled again. “None of your beeswax,” she said and snorted in contempt for the woman and her self-righteous attitude.

  Sister Margaret looked down her nose at the elder witch and slowly nodded her head. “Up to no good…”

  “I’m not five,” Delta snapped. “You can’t use your dragon charms to goad me into revealing anything, or make me feel guilty…”

  “Guilt isn’t a witch thing, is it?” Sister Margaret said with a little twisted and somewhat knowing smile.

  Sebastian groaned. “I can see how this is going to go, someone is going to get cast into eternal damnation, and someone is going to get hexed…”

  “Hexed?” Delta said, eyeing the vampire like he’d just thrown up on her shoes. “What do you take me for, a novice?”

  “Well, you’re certainly no angel,” Sebastian offered back with a smirk.

  “That’d take an act of contrition that nobody is capable of performing,” Sister Margaret muttered.

  “That’s not to say I haven’t heard about a flying nun and always wanted to witness it,” Delta said, tossing a death glare at Sister Margaret.

  “You’re just so peppy,” Sister Margaret sneered back. “Must be all that flying on broomsticks…”

  “I know where I’d like to shove my broomstick,” Delta hissed.

  “Okay,” Sebastian said, holding up his hands and trying to cool the situation between them. “There’s no need for out and out hostility. We all have to live in the same town.”

  “Not if I run her out of it,” Delta grumbled.

  “Right back at ya, Broom-Hilda,” Sister Margaret grumbled back.

  Sebastian sighed. “My word, it’s like refereeing a match between two trolls, all we need is a bridge.”

  “Watch who you’re calling a troll, bloodsucker,” Sister Margaret bit out.

  Delta grunted in annoyance. “Allow me,” she said, zapping the vampire.

  “Nice to see magic used for a good cause,” Sister Margaret said, and the vampire turned a curious look on the nun.

  “This you approve of?” he asked, scowling.

  “Wholeheartedly, one hundred per cent, you betcha I do,” Sister Margaret said, putting one foot in front of another and setting off towards the church like a woman with something to get done. She was chuckling to herself.

  The vampire cocked his head and listened. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that nun laugh,” Sebastian said, watching the woman go.

  “Maybe I’ll zap you every time she’s around,” Delta said, shrugging. “We can call it your penance for being you, and a civic duty at getting old grumpy-pants to lighten up a little.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ~

  Nancy snatched a look at her mate and was busted doing it. She mentally kicked herself. “Why are you staring at me?” she bit out, more annoyed with herself than with him.

  “The same reason you keep looking at me…”

  “I do not keep looking at you,” she said, chuckling with disbelief which was more to do with the fact that he’d called her on it.

  “Really?” he asked, angling his chin down and offering her a teasing smile that irked her to her very bones.

  “Okay, enlighten me, genius,” she said sweetly, too sweetly for his liking, and folding one arm over her body and lifting the coffee mug to her lips with her free hand she gave him a little side-eye.

  “Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Jorge said, shrugging his broad shoulders, and enjoying the moment when that coffee mug hesitated at her lips, and she looked lost.

  Nancy frowned. It certainly didn’t sound like a line, but she couldn’t be sure. What she was sure about was the way the excitement spiked within her at his words. Silly, traitorous body, how dare it fail her at every turn! “Well, you’re wrong,” she said, eyeing him some more as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind about him. “I do not think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  There was a low chuckle that rolled towards her and warmed her from the inside out. Even his stupid chuckling was conspiring against her – the growls were bad enough, but now her body was going to melt at the sound of laughter? That was just rubbing salt in the wounds of her pride.

  “I’m all male,” he said.

  “I noticed,” she muttered, miffed at herself and her wicked thoughts. “You really don’t need to announce it to the world,” she said, louder, even though he’d caught her first words just fine. “Or are you that masculine uncertain that you do?”

  Jorge frowned. He’d been paying more attention to what she wasn’t saying that when she was. Now he was unsure if he missed a beat or two. “Huh?”

  “Is that why shifters are the way they are – me Tarzan you dopey female – because they are so insecure within themselves and their sexuality that they’ve gotta go beating people over the head at every opportunity to prove how manly they are…?”

  “I haven’t laid a finger on…” Jorge rushed out, horrified of what she was accusing him of and a little miffed that she was doing it.

  “Well, that’s not entirely accurate,” she said, snorting with disdain, and grateful to be in the driving seat once again.

  “Okay, a finger or two, but not in that way,” he said, scowling at her as his beast rose within him.

  Nancy was a roll. “But, you haven’t denied…”

  “I deny everything!” he snapped back.

  “How like a man,” she said, grinning inwardly.

  She’d pushed his buttons, and now she knew how it would be easy to replicate it. And he thought he had her on the back foot – pah!

  Mess with a witch, and you find the even bigger witch inside.

  “What?” Jorge said, confused and still smarting from her accusation as he wrestled his wolf back in its internal cage.

  “Deny everything,” she said, shrugging just one shoulder. “Wars…
”

  “Wars!” he barked out in disbelief. “When did I start one of those?”

  “If not now maybe in the future,” she said.

  “Future?” Jorge fidgeted on top of the stool he was sitting on, now perched on the edge. “The only future here is me and you and pups…”

  “Pups!” she bit back, looking a little mortified. Oh, how the conversation had taken a turn to the surreal.

  “You want pups, right?” he asked. He’d longed for a family of his own to love and protect, but if his mate didn’t want pups, then he was sure that their love for each other would be enough. After all, it was fate.

  “Is it a requirement?” she said, searching her brain for something to say. She hadn’t even fully thought out the whole mating with him thing yet – now there were pups? “Was my womb booked at birth and nobody told me because I didn’t get that email, pal.”

  “No!” he snapped, growling a little.

  “Good!” she snapped back, confused, flustered, and just like a duck on a calm surface, she was paddling like a lunatic beneath the waves.

  Jorge scowled, reaching for the mug of coffee in front of him for want of something to do with his hands. “Well, okay – pups are off the table…”

  “They shouldn’t be on the table, that’s just plain rude,” she said and kicked herself at how that had sounded.

  Nancy had been trying to lighten the moment for her own sanity, but what she’d blurted out had sounded totally insane to her ears. He was looking a little constipated as well. “Wait…” she said, putting the mug down on the side and waving her hand in the air. “I never said I’d mate with you,” she said, pointing out the obvious.

  “That’s a given,” Jorge said, shrugging once more.

  Nancy bit down on her tongue as she rushed to spit out a laugh of disbelief. “Only in your mind, and Goddess only knows what else is lurking in those dark recesses. I shudder to think.”

  “Because a witch’s mind is all sugar and spice?” he said, snorting a chuckle and bringing the mug to his lips, sipping at the hot brew.

  Nancy grunted. “You have no idea,” she said and hoped he didn’t, because her mind was betraying her with those x-rated thoughts again.

  “And yet, I’m willing to overlook…”

  “Overlook?” she said, dropping her chin and eyeing him from beneath her lashes. “Oh boy, you do not want to finish that sentence.”

  “Really?”

  “Not if you want to keep your fangs,” she said, warning him that she wasn’t about to take his chauvinistic attitude lying down.

  “Overlook the fact that we have differences,” he said, angling his chin up like he was Mr Superior or something. “Because what bonds us…”

  “Don’t say bonds,” she said, shaking her head.

  “What binds us is so much more than what can keep us apart.”

  Nancy chewed that over. The man had either made a spectacular about-face and come back, or he wasn’t as much of a jerk as she thought. “Don’t count on it,” she bit out, tossing a glare at him, and unwilling to acknowledge the fact that what he’d said had touched her deep down where she didn’t want to be touched. But she wanted to be touched, and by him – life was getting confusing.

  “You’re not even willing to entertain the idea that we’re meant to…”

  “Kill each other, oh yeah, that thought is front and centre in my mind,” she said, not willing to budge or back down, and trying to reinforce her willpower to keep her mind on neutral things – like cake – and not a naked him covered in whipped cream.

  “Fine,” Jorge said, shrugging again. “Have it your way, take your cat and hightail it out of town never to be seen again.”

  Nancy didn’t move, didn’t breath, could barely think – for some strange reason she didn’t like that idea much. What in Hades was going on? She’d liked that idea just fine a few hours ago when she was climbing out of the bathroom window, but now – well, not so much.

  “Don’t think I won’t do it,” she said, scowling, but she didn’t know if she was scowling at him or herself for the confused stance she now found herself in.

  She wanted to leave – but she didn’t. How messed up a thing was that? How screwy was she?

  He’d driven her to insanity and they’d only just met. Wow, that must have been how the mating pull gets you – it turns you into a raving loon – all she needed was a full moon, and she might be howling at it alongside his wolf.

  “It’s your house; you know where the door is,” Jorge said, praying that he wasn’t going to have to follow her damn car out of town and to parts unknown.

  “Fine,” she said, biting down on that one word, and stalking towards the back door. “I will!” she hissed back over her shoulder, reaching for the handle and grimacing at the thought of taking even one step outside that room.

  “Drive safe,” Jorge said, not backing down.

  Nancy yanked open the back door and bit down on the annoyance within her. Then she took one step and stopped as her devious mind kicked into gear. “Only, I can’t,” she said, groaning like she meant it.

  “Can’t bear to leave me, hmm?” he said chuckling.

  “I can’t leave my cat,” she said, smirking at her victory, but not for long as the little mini-beast stalked right in the back door, circled around her feet with the worst timing imaginable, and she had the urge to kick kitty right back out into the darkness once more.

  “One cat,” Jorge said, chuckling to himself.

  Nancy was caught between a rock and a hard place. If she admitted that she really didn’t want to go until she figured out the whole mating thing between them, then she’d have to back down – that wasn’t good, witches didn’t back down.

  But if she didn’t walk out then he knew he’d won anyway. What was a wicked witch to do?

  That was when it hit her – a stroke of witchy genius. She turned slowly on her heels as her cat started further into the kitchen. “Butthead,” she said, aiming her magic right at her mate’s backside.

  Jorge felt the full force of the sting to his backside and half-roared – half-yelped, and the cat went full on puffball, let out a startled meow, and shot out the back door into the night as if there was a wolf on its heels.

  “Wait!” she called out into the night and hoped it sounded as if she meant it, while smirking inwardly, even if she couldn’t show that smile to her mate she knew it was there. She tossed the door closed and turned back towards him. “You did that on purpose,” she said, eyeing him with all the contempt that she could muster.

  “I was about to say same the same to you,” he said, growling.

  “Oh sure,” she said tossing up her hand and letting it slap back against her thigh. “Like I want to spend one more moment in your company,” she bit out, turned on her heels and stalked off, leaving Jorge sitting there wondering just what the truth was.

  If she was telling a lie – then she was really good at it – the devious little… But, if she had done that deliberately – well, then that meant he was winning the battle of wooing his witch mate.

  Jorge hoped it was the second, but was steeling himself for it being the first. Either way, he was sure there would be more zapping before he found out the truth.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ~

  “Well, that’s that then,” Drew said when Vivelle finished telling him what Sister Mary had said, which was a lot of nothing at all.

  Vivelle offered him a small shrug in return.” Not necessarily.”

  “Look, I know you want to play Miss Marple to my Sherlock, but…”

  “Don’t you want to know what’s going on in Knowing?” Vivelle asked, snatching up the bottle of beer that he’d just placed on the coffee table and taking a swig.

  “Help yourself…”

  “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine,” she said, mischief dancing in her eyes as he offered her a mocking stare.

  “Thought as much,” he said, reaching out, not for the bot
tle, but for his mate, and wrapping a strong arm around her waist as he drew her closer to him of the sofa.

  “That’s not going to get you your beer back,” she said chuckling.

  “Keep the beer; I’m after something far more…”

  “Be serious for a moment,” she said, playfully slapping at his chest.

  “Nothing more serious than a little…”

  “I will hurt you,” she said, ignoring the suggestive wiggling of his eyebrows and that wolfish grin on his lips – or, ignoring it as best she could.

  Drew grinned from ear to ear. “Getting better by the minute.”

  “Knowing…”

  “Knowing what I know now, about you hogging the beer, and not sharing – I still would,” he said.

  “Would what?”

  Drew kissed her like he meant it, even if it was meant to be playful to start off with. When she came up for air, she really didn’t want to think about what little secrets the town of Knowing were holding onto … but she needed to know. “For the love of the Goddess it’s killing me!” she snapped and Drew pulled back from her in surprise.

  “What did I do?”

  “Not you – them,” she said, waving an absent hand. “Something is rotten in this town, and I want to know what it is.”

  “But…”

  “No, buts…”

  “I was just going to say, can’t it wait until morning?” Drew said, offering her a drop dead sexy grin that made her brain fart and her feminine side raise its not-sex starved head.

  “Possibly…” she said and left it hanging in the air. “I mean, we can’t go grill Sister Margaret tonight, I suppose.”

  “Which one’s that?”

  “Grumpy nun,” she said and watched him wince.

  “I don’t think I like that nun,” he said.

  Vivelle let out a snort of a chuckle. “That’s because she made you feel like a five-year-old.”

  “Did not…”

  “Did too. That nun wiped the floor with you.” She snorted another chuckle.