Hex and the Single Witch

by Saranna Dewylde

  “Sex. He tasted like sex,” Caraway replied dumbly.

  “The look on Brody’s face was priceless. I’m so proud of you. All of his troll friends heard you, too. This just upped your cred, ducks.”

  “I don’t want to up my cred. Alexander’s going to make me pay for that. I know he is.”

  “Of course he is, and you’ll pay the piper and love every minute of it.”

  “Hello? Do you remember who we’re talking about? He’s a dick. A bag of dicks. King of the Dicks.”

  “He has a dick. And I bet you could use it for your mutual satisfaction.”

  “Coriander! Be serious. He despises witches. He wants something from me and I don’t know what it is.”

  “Yeah, a dip in your cunny.” Coriander rolled her eyes.

  “Look, who cares what he wants? You can’t tell me the selfish troll was good bed-sport. Morningstar will make you come until you hear accordions from the choir of Hell and shite, if only to satisfy his own ego.” She bit her lip before she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “I’d shag him.”

  “Really?” Cara was shocked.

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “He’s into you, love. Not me. Which is just as well. I have to punish Brody for you and he will require all of my attention.” In that moment, with blue lightning crackling through her veins, Coriander Wormwood looked every inch the wicked witch.

  “I am thinking I should skip Hexacology today,” Cara whispered.

  “Oh, the Hell you are. Not only will you get more demerits, you’ll still have to serve them with Morningstar—some enterprising sophomore turned Professor Bagglewit into a steaming pile of dragon dung.”

  “I could just—”

  “No, you can’t ‘just’ anything. If you don’t get rid of those demerits, you won’t get your Hexacology licence and then Hexes & Haunts, Inc. will be dust. Go and take your medicine.” Coriander watched her for a long moment. “I bet this medicine won’t even taste bad going down.”

  They both erupted into laughter.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  * * * *

  Brody tried to flatten himself at an impossible angle against the hot stone of the wall. The heat burnt through his clothes as the sweat sluiced down the middle of his back, but the discomfort was nothing compared to what was coming.

  He cringed.

  A neon pink banner shocked his retinas as it was caught and held by the merciless light—the reflection so bright it hurt. Maybe, if he made himself disappear—damn stupid spell book. Brody remembered he’d left it sitting cheerfully in the garderobe. Damn stupid Valerian for distracting him this morning anyway—always talking, that one. Or eating.

  He cringed again when he heard a voice—her voice, shrill and piercing. His eardrums seeming to burst like overripe melons. “Brody!” she shrieked.

  Nails on a chalkboard.

  He waved meekly, losing the battle to hold in a very long, drawn out, and oh-so put-upon sigh. Clarabelle anchored herself to him. It wasn’t precisely her fault he found her so annoying. Valentine fairies were just like that.

  No, it was Valerian’s fault.

  Brody had started dating Caraway at the end of sophomore year.

  Two years.

  Twenty-four months.

  Ninety- six weeks.

  Seven hundred and thirty days.

  Seventeen THOUSAND, five hundred, and twenty hours.

  That’s how long he’d been chained to a lie.

  Valerian and a summer rain had shattered his dreams, changed what he wanted out of life. That had led to the very public break-up with Caraway and the sudden relationship with Clarabelle.

  He’d spent that summer with Valerian at his ancestral home in Scotland. A chilly, sudden storm while they were swimming in a secret pool in the lost glen. An accidental touch as they’d scrambled to find shelter—the casual brush of flesh against flesh between friends was nothing until the rain made it something more. Slick, heated skin and a moment gravid with all that could be, living and breathing in the space between their mouths.

  A kiss. Only a kiss.

  It had changed Brody forever—Valerian’s yielding lips beneath his, the hard ridge of his cock digging into his thigh.

  The primal need with which Valerian’s hands had fisted in his hair and pushed him down the finely muscled path of his torso to his cock. The absolute bliss with which he’d spilled into Valerian’s greedy mouth and the sweet-salty taste on his lips as Valerian had done the same.

  In the dark, before Caraway’s true power had come to her, her body had been narrow and formless. Close enough that Brody could imagine it was Valerian. But with her power had come her curves, a body all his friends had envied his access to—even Valerian.

  Valerian He’d acted as if the moment had never happened, as if they’d never touched each other, never found that pleasure together. He had a duty to marry, to produce magical children to continue his line. That was his excuse. They all did. The presence of magic was waning in the world and the ban on more than two children per couple had been lifted. Magical families with seven children or more now paid no taxes and their tuition fees to UMM were waived.

  There were trolls and other magic folk who lived as they chose, but they married first. Produced children to do their duty before they could be with those they loved. Yet, that didn’t matter to him. He was tired of living a lie. Brody didn’t want children. He didn’t want a wife.

  Brody had broken up with Caraway because he knew she deserved better than that from him. He hadn’t meant for it to become a public event, but after he’d started down that path, he’d had no choice. She’d accused him of wanting to spend more time with his footballer mates than with her, and she’d been right. Her darts had hit too close for comfort.

  And Clarabelle. Gods, but she was a wreck. So needy.

  Valerian had shoved them together knowing, with her slender build, Brody could fake it with her, and would—if only to get Caraway off his back.

  But now, seeing Caraway with Morningstar, it had done something to him. Twisted up his guts.

  “You were pretty mean to Caraway today.”

  “She’s making a fool of herself with Morningstar.” Brody tried to shrug her off him. “Hey, Clarabelle, it’s really hot. So if you could...”

  She looked like a puppy he’d kicked. “You know, Brody, I don’t understand why you even asked me to be your girl. You don’t even like me.”

  “Clarabelle, I like you fine. I just need my space.”

  She shrugged. “Space isn’t my forte. I’m a Valentine fairy. You knew that when you asked me out. I think we should break up.”

  “You just feel bad for Caraway.”

  “Partially. But I also know she’s a Wormwood and a Wormwood can hold a grudge.” She shuddered, her pink wings fluttering with the motion. “Rainabelle told me Caraway and her cousin are opening a shop when they get their Hexacology certifications. I want no part of that.”

  “That didn’t bother you at the Samhain mixer.”

  “That was before I realised you don’t even like me. I’ve got some pride, you know.”

  “Clarabelle,” he began, unsure of what to say. Because she was right. He didn’t really like her.

  “It’s okay, Brody. Just don’t lie to me.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Can I trust you?”

  “What? I guess.”

  “No, really, Clara. If I tell you this, it has to stay between us. On your magic.”

  “On my magic, I vow,” Clara said easily.

  “It’s not you. It’s your plumbing.”

  “My plumbing?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but it felt right. “I don’t know yet if I’m gay or bisexual, because there was a time when I liked fucking Caraway. But I loved fucking Valerian and I owe it to myself to find out.” Brody took a deep breath and realised he felt pretty
damn good.

  Clarabelle laughed. “Guess what?”

  “What?” Brody had no idea what she was going to say, but she was smiling.

  She took his hand and guided it between her thighs. When he tried to pull away, she smiled again. “Trust me.”

  He relaxed and was surprised to feel a protuberance where her clit should have been. Like a small cock.

  “Guess what else I can do?” Suddenly, pretty little Clarabelle was as large and brawny as Brody. He could see the evidence of her fairy heritage in the strong, male features. “Not many people know it, but Valentine fairies are dual-sexual. I was wondering how to tell you, or if I should tell you.”

  “By Odin,” he exclaimed and continued his exploration between the thickly muscled thighs. The cock had grown, too.

  Brody closed his hand around the heavy shaft and slid his hand back and forth along the length.

  “We’re not,” the shemale-like creature gasped, “very monogamous either.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Brody whispered as he traced the newly hard line of jaw with his tongue and kissed Clarabelle with a newfound desire.

  Brody sank to his knees and pushed up the skirt. He shoved aside the pink lacy knickers, entranced by the stark contrast of the masculine and the feminine. He found he liked the juxtaposition very much.

  “Shit, Brody. Coriander Wormwood is right over—”

  Brody wasn’t listening. He’d suckled the swollen flesh into his mouth, tongued it, worshipped it. The salt of the pre cum tasted like cherries and it spilled onto his tongue. He sucked harder, licked faster, swirled his tongue around the capped head as he worked the long shaft with his fist.

  Thick, blunt fingers tangled in his hair and guided him up with a heavy hand to bob up and down on the cock. It made him take more of it than he wanted, but that in itself was a turn-on. He and Valerian had been evenly matched, but Clarabelle, in his male form, was bigger. Stronger. Could take what he wanted from him whether he wanted to give it or not.

  His own cock jerked at the thought. It begged for his attention, to be touched, stroked and sucked just as he was doing to Clarabelle’s. The ring of muscles in his ass clenched and his cock jerked again as he imagined the Valentine fairy on all fours for him, that big staff painfully hard with need, jutting not from between masculine thighs but her slender woman’s thighs—her small tits bouncing as he fucked her from behind—the desperate need to spill unanswered. Brody imagined keeping her hard and wanting until he’d had his fill.

  He also imagined her doing the same to him. Her hot pink tongue sliding inside his ass, that huge cock to follow... He bobbed faster, took it deeper into his throat. Brody opened his eyes to look up at his lover.

  Her dainty wings had become more solid, veiny and bright.

  They held her aloft and those muscled thighs came to rest on his shoulders as the fairy’s hips jerked to fuck his mouth.

  Brody slipped his hand between them and was surprised to find she still had her female organ. It had simply retreated— small and cloven, like a bisected peach—to make way for the dominance of the male. He worked his first finger inside the slick orifice, then eased his middle finger into her anal cleft.

  The Valentine fairy’s cock surged in his mouth at the invasion, but Brody didn’t stop. He thrust inside both orifices simultaneously and her hot jism filled his mouth. He was pleased it, too, tasted like cherry candy.

  Clarabelle sagged against the wall as she floated down, the harsh male features seeming to melt into her feminine form as she struggled to catch her breath. “So I guess maybe you do like me after all.” She gave a breathless giggle.

  “Clarabelle!” Coriander Wormwood’s shout shattered their idyll.

  Balls. He didn’t want to deal with his ex’s self-righteous cousin at the moment. He licked his lips and savoured the last taste of Clarabelle.

  The fairy righted her skirt. “You know, she’s not going to leave you or me alone until you talk to Caraway and at least offer some kind of explanation.” She flipped up her skirt to flash him. “You can have this again when you get back.” Then she pushed him away. “Now get out of here, unless you want to deal with Coriander.”

  She was right. Caraway would never call off the harpies until she got an explanation. With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that she deserved one. Cara was a good witch— she’d put up with a lot of shit from him and he’d not treated her well at all. Brody was still afraid to tell her the truth.

  Fuck, was he a troll or a man? He was a troll. He’d troll up and lay it out on the table like he should have to start with.

  Brody’d done the same with Clarabelle and it had got him precisely what he wanted.

  He reasoned he owed it to her, especially since she was making a fool of herself with Morningstar—he went through lovers faster than a twice moon-cursed witch went through tampons.

  Although he could see the attraction of the heir to all Evil.

  He most certainly could.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  * * * *

  “So, you and Bendopolous have fallen out?” Morningstar asked after the rest of the students had left for the evening.

  “And what’s it to you?” Caraway tossed her head in defiance of whatever plot he’d hatched in his Infernal brain.

  “It’s nothing to me, but obviously everything to you.” He stepped into the sallow light of the candelabra, the dingy colour of the tallow light somehow making his dark countenance even more perfect.

  Not that she noticed he was perfect, or handsome, or...

  “Shove off. All you ever do is talk about Bendopolous. Why don’t you fuck him?”

  “Not my thing.” Alexander shrugged, unfazed by the insinuation. He reclined nonchalantly in the seat next to her.

  “But you—you might be my thing.” He eyed her appreciatively.

  “Only because I was dating Bendopolous,” she retorted, though secretly the idea thrilled her and she could feel the flush that started with the heat between her thighs and was quickly scorching up her body to her face. She turned on him, irritated he’d affected her so. “Morningstar is too grand for the likes o’ poor wittle Wormwood,” she mocked.

  “So you know your place. That’s good, Caraway, girl. We can work with that.” He smirked.

  Caraway brought her hand across the lean marble of his cheek, her palm imprinting itself with an angry red stain.

  If Caraway thought Morningstar would be motivated to violence, she was mistaken. Because he laughed. The bastard actually laughed.

  “Keep that up, little girl, and I will have to take you over my knee for a proper spanking.”

  Another instance where a threat held so much promise.

  What would she do if he did haul her over his knee? Probably squirm against him until she came.

  “Like Hell you will,” a familiar voice interrupted.

  “Brody,” Caraway said, stunned.

  “Ah, yes, Bendopolous. Come to save your lady? I’ll wager she packs a harder punch.”

  “Shut it, Morningstar,” Caraway snapped.

  “Shut it for me,” he challenged. “Maybe that’s how you could work off your demerits, little witch. You can figure out exactly what you have to do to get me to stop talking. Will it be your mouth, your breasts or the sweetness of your pussy?”

  His sly gaze slid to Brody. “Oh, don’t like that, do you, Bendopolous? You don’t want her, so why does it bother you so much that I do?”

  Brody was strangely silent. What was he doing there, anyway? Could he actually be jealous?

  “Cat got your tongue, Bendopolous? Visions of your darling Caraway shutting it for me, eh?” Alexander smirked.

  Caraway had to hand it to him. Morningstar was an Olympic manipulator. He knew which buttons to push, how often and how hard.

  “As a matter of fact, I was still envisioning the mouth-shutting. But it had more to do with me than with Caraway.”

  Caraway�
��s mouth fell open like a large-mouthed bass hanging with a hook in its cheek. The words had echoed in her ears, passed across firing synapses into the language portion of her brain, but she still couldn’t fathom the sounds that had just left her ex-boyfriend’s mouth.

  Brody wanted to fuck Alexander.

  Had she heard that right? It wasn’t possible. The big chauvinist footballer troll and—She blinked like an owl that had fallen into a keg of dragon’s blood ale. No. It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  Alexander cocked his head to the side and considered Brody as he would a fat tick. “Have you lost your mind, Bendopolous?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  Caraway blushed, but it was more of a crimson fury than anything. “Well, Bendopolous.” She sneered the name as Alexander had only moments before. “I was just telling Alexander, when he was trying to get in my knickers, that he should fuck you. The way you two carry on.” She had to get away from them both, had to process what had just happened. Both her interaction with Morningstar and her bisexual ex-boyfriend.

  What pissed her off wasn’t the fact he wanted to be with another man. She was all for people loving and shagging whomever they damned well pleased as long as it was consensual. It was the part where Brody had lied about who he was to her for two years. He’d let her waste her time with him, let her love him, knowing he didn’t love her back and didn’t want the same things she did. Caraway turned towards the door, but Alexander grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going anywhere. Unless you don’t want to work off those demerits?”

  Bloody damn! She’d been trying to get out of there before Brody could humiliate her further. She’d looked at him and there had been no apology in his eyes—nothing of the Brody she’d known, the bastard. Goddess, why had he lied to her?

  Caraway smiled sweetly. “I thought you two boys would like to play by yourselves. Maybe doctor?” She hated the venom that was coming out of her mouth. It made her sound so hurt, so jealous, and even if she was, they didn’t need to know that. She’d have rather kept her pain to herself.