Don't Hex and Drive

by Juliette Cross

  “St. Catherine Memorial is closest,” snapped Ruben. “Let’s bring her there. Her family will be notified right away.”

  I lifted her and carried her to the SUV, getting into the backseat. Ruben sidled in beside me.

  “We’ll need to leave her anonymously,” said Ruben.

  “Of course,” I agreed. We couldn’t be connected with the girl at all, not even as her rescuers. It would be too suspicious. “She was too frail for the kind of abuse her body underwent with these assholes.”

  “Yes. Perhaps that’s why they dumped her. That only makes me hopeful they’re intention isn’t to kill these women at all.”

  “I’ll find out once I get inside that fucker’s head,” I growled.

  “We need to tend to her first,” said Ruben. “Though I agree it’s best we get her to the hospital and in the care and safety of the authorities and her family, she’ll need a Conduit’s healing.”

  I stared down at the still unconscious girl, knowing the paleness of her skin indicated they’d drained her too much. The fury at what had been done to her by my own kind burned through my veins.

  “Isadora,” I whispered.

  Gabriel pulled up to the back of the hospital. Without a word, I enveloped my body with glamour and traced through the emergency entrance where an ambulance was parked. Humans might see a shimmer or a blur but I’d be gone before they could blink. I set her right by the closed back door, placing the broken necklace in her palm. Then I punched the button on the wall that requested entry into the backdoor and traced back to the vehicle.

  When I got in, Ruben was on his cell. “Yes. Plenty of time for you to finish and close the kitchen,” he was telling someone. “It’ll take a few hours for the buzz of her being found to settle down anyway. We’ll get Isadora and go after visiting hours end.”

  My pulse lurched at the mention of her name. Though I wasn’t happy about the circumstances, I was thrilled at the thought of seeing her.

  “Sounds good,” said Ruben into his phone before he ended the call and turned to me. “Let’s grab some dinner then we’ll pick up Jules at the Cauldron and Isadora at the house.”

  I nodded. “After our hospital visit, we’re going straight back to The Green Light.”

  My beast was hungry to bend that fucker’s mind to find the other assholes he was in league with. Those texts he was sending were to his ringleader, preparing to abduct one of those four girls who’d come in last at Barrel Proof. Until he made me, that was.

  No matter. I was a Stygorn. And I had everything I needed. One malleable mind in my hands. He would find out soon enough what one of my kind was capable of.

  But first, I would have the pleasure of Isadora’s company, whether she liked it or not. I couldn’t help but smile at that.

  Chapter 9

  ~ISADORA~

  * * *

  I wiped the tears from my eyes and half-squatted on our front porch, trying not to pee on myself from laughing so hard. Tia laughed with me, though she was still standing without any difficulty. Unlike me.

  “I know, right? Poor Marcus,” Tia continued. “But he handled it like a champ. Even after she used that lie detector hex to make him spill the most embarrassing moments of his childhood.”

  She propped a hand on her hip, her face even more beautiful with the utter joy suffusing her expression. Her tight curls bounced on her bare shoulder when she laughed, her hair pulled back with a turquoise bandana as a headband.

  I shook my head. “And he wasn’t angry?”

  “That was the weird thing. He really wasn’t. He laughed after Aunt Beryl’s little test of wills was over and told her she reminded him of his own Sicilian mother. ‘Tough as balls’ he said right to her face.”

  “Wow. And what did Aunt Beryl say to that?” I asked, leaning against one of the columns by the front door.

  Tia grinned coquettishly, her hazel-brown eyes glittering with dangerous glee. “She said he was fine for a white man, and since he handled himself like a class act, I was allowed to go out with him.”

  “Aunt Beryl-approved dating material? He must be impressive.”

  She winked as she reached for the doorknob, but then I wrapped my hand on top of hers, preventing her from getting away.

  “So you’re really dating him now?”

  I was a little shocked. I couldn’t remember the last time Tia had dated anyone. Like me. She and I had been united in solidarity against the opposite sex. Well, not against them really. But maybe we enjoyed a joke or two at their expense. And had been bound together in our attachment to singlehood for a long time.

  She sobered, looking over her shoulder at me. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I am.” Her little smile told me this was more than a passing fling. She hadn’t said anything, but I could read Tia as well as my sisters.

  She twisted the door and shoved it open. I fell in behind her, hearing familiar music coming from the living room television. The same Bollywood music I’d been hearing coming from next door this past week.

  “I guess it’s convenient he’s your neighbor,” I continued, walking beside her down the hallway. “Easy access to your Italian stallion, right?” I nudged her playfully.

  “Oh, Isadora. You have no idea.” She stopped and squished my cheeks between her hands then whispered, “You should try sleeping with your neighbor. You might like it.”

  I pulled away and marched ahead of her. “As if.” I’d spent the afternoon complaining about the nuisance vampire neighbor. Rather than sympathize, she said it sounded more like sexual frustration, which I should use him to get rid of. I wasn’t about to admit that the very same thought had crossed my mind earlier that day. But I’d always found men never lived up to my expectations. I’d rather avoid the hassle and just use my toys. I liked keeping things simple.

  “And you hit the nail on the head with that stallion part,” Tia added on a laugh. “Damn does he know how to use that body.”

  “Stop it! Now you’re just trying to make me feel bad about my lack of a sex life.” We stepped into the living room. “What in the fresh hell is this?” I murmured to Tia.

  Violet and Livvy were sprawled on the giant living room sofa, popcorn bowls in hand, while Clara was facing the television with a pink scarf wrapped around her waist and shimmying her hips to the music coming from the blaring TV. None of them bothered to look up.

  “I can’t make my hips do that,” complained Clara, swaying her pelvis in figure-eights. Sort of.

  Then my gaze landed on the giant plasma screen that Evie insisted we needed for all of her sci-fi and Avenger movies she loved. I gulped, immediately breaking out into a sweat.

  Devraj stared out, his lips moving, his velvet-dark voice resonating through the soundbar and filling the room. The camera panned out, revealing his white button-down billowing open. He stood at the center of a gang of seven other fine-looking men who danced and sang in unison, clapping hands and stomping feet to a heavy drumbeat, hips moving, chests heaving. And Devraj, his long hair blowing in the wind, his come-hither eyes fixed on the camera, on the viewer, on me, felt like an electric zap that pierced my chest and sizzled much farther down. I tried to swallow, but my throat was Sahara Desert dry.

  “What is this?” I was barely able to whisper.

  My three sisters’ heads swiveled to face me. Violet grinned with far too much glee. “It’s the movie you tossed in your trash in your bedroom. Dilwala Deewana.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I snapped. “Why would you rummage through my trash?”

  Violet reached over to the coffee table and snatched my all-too-familiar weekly chores list that I’d posted on the fridge and waved it in the air like a flag.

  “Just following your orders. And you tossed it out. Finders, keepers.”

  “Oh, my,” said Livvy, leaning forward toward the television.

  Devraj was now circling a beautiful woman, the music having dimmed to nothing but percussion, his body an artful machine of rhythm and seduction.
The woman knelt on a blanket, heaving deep breaths as he circled, trailing his fingers up her arm, over the slope of her bare shoulder, combing then fisting her hair until he firmly but gently tugged her head back, arching her beautiful neck. Then he was singing sensual words—all subtitled in English—against her lips before he ravished them. And they fell onto the blanket in a tangle of limbs and moans as the camera panned away.

  “Holy fuck,” breathed Violet, grabbing at her chest like she might hyperventilate.

  I understood because the close-up angle of Devraj hovering a hair’s breadth away from the woman’s mouth and the lust-hazed look in her eyes told me this wasn’t all acting. An unfamiliar spark of emotion shot through me like a poisoned dart. Jealousy? No way. And was that the same woman in the pictures of him on Instagram? Of course, there were quite a few other women in those pics, too.

  “Oh, my God.” Tia finally caught her breath and glared at me accusingly. “Is this the neighbor vampire?! You didn’t tell me he was Devraj Kumar!”

  “What?” I was hot and sweaty and totally confused by my own swirling emotions.

  “The Bollywood superstar?” Tia’s hazel eyes were wide and shocked and furious. “Are you fucking kidding me, Isadora?”

  “I told you he was an actor! Why are you getting all over me?”

  Tia scoffed then growled, sounding more werewolf than witch. Then she zipped around the sofa and yanked the remote off the coffee table, stopping the movie.

  “Hey!” shouted Livvy.

  “What the hell?” Violet protested.

  Clara had stopped dancing but her blue eyes were bright with humor and wickedness, an expression I didn’t see often on her.

  “Shhht!” Tia held up a palm while she flicked through Netflix, searching out a particular movie. She found it, another Bollywood movie. “You’ll be thanking me in three seconds. Just you wait.”

  She started the movie but fast-forwarded through the opening.

  “Come on, Tia!” shouted Violet.

  “Just…wait for it.” Then she stopped fast-forwarding and pressed play.

  Devraj was standing in the moonlight, singing a slow, sad ballad about his lost love, while removing his white linen shirt. Left in loose, flowing white pants, he stepped into the shimmering pool, water soaking through the thin fabric.

  “Daaaaaamn,” crooned Violet as the camera panned to his glorious back, muscles rippling under dark bronze skin a thing of fantasies. Some women’s fantasies, anyway. Not mine. Totally not mine.

  “Nice camera angle,” admitted Livvy, crunching on popcorn.

  I snapped to my sisters who were literally drooling over our next-door neighbor. Heat raced under my skin, furious with them and, I have to admit, turned on by him. Or his acting skills. That was it. Definitely just the acting skills, and the fantastic lighting and sensual music.

  “He’s so pretty,” Clara said on a dreamy sigh.

  Steam rose off the heated pool he walked into, the water sloshing around thick, muscular thighs, the transparent fabric clinging. Moonlight bathed him, dipping into the shadows carved by his chiseled abdomen as he turned to face the camera. There was a tattoo completely covering one shoulder. A mandala in black and blue ink, an intricate design, feminine in some of the floral loops and masculine in the sharp lines along the outer edges.

  Then he settled into the water, bracing his arms along the pool edge, his gaze fixed into some distant place beyond the camera lens. The water lapped at his chest, steam misting his face, his hair dangling in the water, his voice so very sad, singing about bitter longing and never having the satisfaction his body, his heart, and his soul craved.

  I was completely and utterly transfixed. So much so that I didn’t notice three people enter the room. It wasn’t until I heard a deep, familiar voice directly behind me that I was able to snap out of my trance.

  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies.”

  I felt the words brush against my bare neck, my hair twisted up in a bun. He was so close that when I spun around, I nearly fell forward right into Devraj. He caught me by the arms.

  Oh, my God!

  I pulled back out of his grip, practically panting. If I could’ve crawled into a hole and buried myself, I would have because the smile he wore right then was the most salacious and knowing smile I’d ever seen on a man, or supernatural.

  Tia paused the screen, which happened to be right as on-screen Devraj was stepping out of the pool, a closeup of water dribbling down his sculpted chest.

  Jesus, Tia. Seriously!?

  Heat flushed up my neck and filled my cheeks. I was trying to find some sort of excuse as to why we were all so obviously ogling his body on-screen. But leave it to my sisters to make it even more awkward.

  “We were just admiring your work,” said Violet unabashedly, her chin on top of her folded arms on the back of the couch. Did she just bat her eyelashes?

  Clara sat on the arm of the sofa, her scarf-skirt billowing around her legs. “You’re very talented,” she said sincerely. “I’ve seen quite a few Bollywood movies, but not any of yours. Until now. And you have a beautiful voice.” Clara sighed heavily like a lovesick schoolgirl, which only made me groan.

  “Actually,” he added, “I’m lip-syncing another singer. None of the actors are actually the singers.”

  “Well, you lip-sync prettily,” said Clara, her cheeks pink.

  “Thank you?”

  “And move prettily,” mumbled Livvy.

  Clara slapped Livvy’s arm, which made me want to hug my sweetest sister. How could they be so embarrassing?

  Devraj didn’t appear ashamed at all. If anything, he seemed quite pleased. Especially when he swiveled his dark gaze back to me. I hoped like mad that no perspiration glistened on my forehead because I could feel myself sweating from this entire episode. Then I noticed Jules beside him, frowning as usual, and Ruben, biting his bottom lip to hold in a laugh.

  “Did you enjoy the performance?” he teased.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was speechless with humiliation.

  Then Devraj eased closer. I wanted to step back because his intimate proximity wasn’t what I needed right now. I schooled my features into nonchalance, the exact opposite of how I was feeling. Then I gulped hard against the dawning realization of what the scintillating emotion buzzing through my body and tingling along my skin was. Attraction. Intense, sweat-inducing, bone-melting attraction.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concern pinching his brow.

  No. I was definitely not.

  I nodded stiffly, clearing my throat and my frantic, runaway thoughts. “Fine.”

  “We need you to come with us.” His expression sobered as he glanced toward Jules.

  My eldest sister nodded.

  “What’s going on?” asked Livvy.

  “We’ll tell you later,” said Jules. “Right now, I need Isadora.”

  “Oh, come on,” complained Violet. “I hate it when you patronize us.”

  Jules rolled her eyes. “There’s just no time for your one-million-and-one questions. We’ll have more information later tonight.”

  “We need to go,” said Ruben.

  That’s how I found myself ushered from one of life’s most embarrassing moments out the door toward Ruben’s car. I froze on the sidewalk when I realized Jules wasn’t driving, my heart doing somersaults for a new reason now.

  Too many emotions! I needed to get back to my quiet life of gardening and making herb bundles. I needed to hide in my greenhouse and burn a bonfire of calming incense.

  “It’s okay,” said Jules at my side, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. She whispered low, “Ruben is a good driver. We’re going to St. Catherine’s.”

  I knew Ruben was a safe driver. But no one could explain that to my phobia of driving and cars. It was just one of those things.

  “I could drive us,” she offered.

  I glanced over at Devraj holding the door open to the backseat for me and watching me with a quizzi
cal frown.

  No. I needed to be a big girl about this.

  I gave Jules a little smile. “I’ll be fine. The hospital is close.”

  Then I walked over and slid into the backseat, Devraj sliding in beside me just as Jules was about to from the other side. She was forced to round the trunk to the front passenger seat.

  Trying like hell to ignore the heat radiating off of Devraj sitting next to me as Ruben drove away, I finally asked, “What’s going on?”

  Jules twisted around to peer over the front seat. “Devraj and Ruben found Emma Thomas and brought her to St. Catherine Memorial. The doctors won’t know what’s causing her organ failure other than dehydration. They won’t be able to treat her quickly enough if she’s been bled too long. She’ll need a strong Conduit.”

  I curled my fingers in my lap and leaned back against the seat, thankful for something else to occupy my mind and body. Something besides my spike of fear of riding in this car. And definitely something besides the traces of lust that still lingered and charged my skin. I mean, I’d have to be a zombie not to react to Devraj’s acting skills.

  “I see.” Then I closed my eyes. “I’ll prepare now. Wake me when we arrive.”

  Then I slid my eyes closed and began sucking energy from the air, the night, and the electrified city as we sped toward the hospital.

  Chapter 10

  ~DEVRAJ~

  * * *

  I could’ve stared at the woman all night. Isadora remained silent and focused inward. Her magic whispered in the small space of the interior of Ruben’s car. It felt like a sweet lullaby, a song of old, like footsteps on wooded paths taken only by her, lilting with waves of potent energy that cocooned the witch at my side. If I could reach out and touch that magic that was hers, I would. I wanted to drink it down and absorb her beauty.