A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(128)
This is a dark Vampire Succbus named Eleanora. She is 5’8” tall with flaming red hair and emerald eyes. Very sexy, comes with her own Knives. Hisses. French.
“。 . . Knives?” Ben muttered, eyeing the photo of the tacky blue “crystal.” “Hissing?”
She is very Angry in nature but at least some threats are Jokes! Good friend, maybe good girlfriend I do not know, will do Anything if you order it—bite vengeance murder Jenga Star Trek etc, Eleanora does All
“Murder?”
Dark Vampire Succbus Eleanora angry sexy French BUY NOW but BEWARE you must be firm, she has Attitude but very worth it if you want Assassin, TV watcher, best Friend, maybe-girlfriend, you will not regret it, please pay at least One Million gold doubloons, DARK VAMPIRE SUCCBUS ELEANORA
“Dark Vampire Succbus Eleanora,” Ben intoned to himself in a dramatic voice. Then he laughed, feeling better than he had since before he’d started crying on the dance floor. What a hilarious scam. He was too cowardly to set up a dating profile, but by Lycaon, he was just drunk and easily amused enough to buy a vampire succubus—or succbus—assassin girlfriend in the shape of a plastic rock for the low, low price of $0.99.
He put in his bid, then promptly passed out on the couch, still smiling.
* * *
Two weeks after the wedding and thirteen days after the worst hangover he’d had in a decade, Ben looked down at the knitting project in his lap and groaned. He’d dropped a stitch a few rows back, and now he was going to have to either find a crochet hook to fix it or rip it back at least four rows.
This project was a scarf for his mother, who had mentioned needing some new warm clothes for the winter. Next he’d make a matching one for his father and a hat for Gigi, and that took care of the first part of his holiday gifts.
He was close with his parents, as he was with his extended family in general. Werewolves were inherently pack creatures, and though Ben had long been the introvert of the family, he still had dinner with his parents and sister whenever he could get away from work—rare these days—and he was a frequent visitor at his aunt’s Shabbat dinner. His uncle had married into a Jewish family, and as a result, the extended Rosewood-Levine clan was rarely without good food to eat or something to celebrate.
Knitting for the entire array of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and friends so close they’d become honorary Rosewood-Levines was too daunting a task for a man with only two hands and two knitting needles. For the most part he only knitted for his immediate family, but his second cousin had just announced her pregnancy so he had roughly six months to make his traditional “welcome to the family” baby blanket.
Lots of knitting, which normally wouldn’t be a problem . . . if he hadn’t currently been preparing to expand the Emporium. His business took up the majority of his time, and arranging the permits, construction, decorating, supplies, and staffing for the expansion had resulted in a lot of lost sleep over the preceding months. But failing to produce gifts for his family was unthinkable, so if he had to cut back on sleep even more, he would.
Ben was reaching for his crochet hook when the doorbell rang. He set the knitting aside and stood, brushing sandwich crumbs off his T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. It was a Saturday, and though normally he’d be at work, the builders had requested no hovering as they finished installing appliances. So here he was, catching up on projects at home while fretting about everything that could possibly be going wrong at the office.
He padded to the front door on bare feet and opened it to see a griffin with a palm-sized package in her beak and a clipboard held between two claws. A brown company vest announced the griffin’s employment at a prominent shipping chain.
The griffin spit out the box into Ben’s hand before holding out the clipboard. “SIIIIIIGN,” she shrieked.
Griffins were highly intelligent but struggled to speak non-avian languages intelligibly, considering their beaks. They also smelled downright terrible to sensitive werewolf noses. Ben smiled politely and took the clipboard, ignoring the stench. He might smell equally bad to the griffin, after all.
“I didn’t order anything,” he said, looking between the box and the paper. The sender was listed as THE WITCH IN THE WOODS with no return address, and the signature line on the receipt sat beneath text saying “I assume full responsibility for the hellion, no take backs,” which struck him as nonstandard language.
“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIGN.”
Maybe he’d bought something online for the store and forgotten about it. It was definitely his name and address. Ben didn’t want to make a fuss, so he nodded and signed. “Thanks,” he said, waving awkwardly at the griffin before she launched into the air to continue her route.
Back in his living room, he sat on the couch and opened the box. Beneath layers of glittery tissue paper was a small plastic bag with a blue faceted stone inside, no bigger than his thumbnail. His brow furrowed. This was vaguely familiar, but why?
The stone proved to be plastic when he pulled it out. He studied the overhead light through it. Why had he ordered a fake plastic jewel? He sniffed it a few times, and whoa, it smelled great. Sweet in a luscious, spicy, complicated way even his rarest lilies couldn’t match.
A piece of paper was nestled in the bottom of the box. The paper was fragile and browned with age. On it was written: Eleanora.
A vague memory surfaced—something about eBay? He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his email. Sure enough, there it was—a receipt from two weeks ago informing him he had won the auction for Dark Arts Sexy Succbus She-Vampire TALISMAN PARANORMAL POSSESSED BLUE CRYSTAL DARK ARTS SEXY CONJURE ROCK.