Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(7)

The suppression potion, which I’d taken just before we left home, tempered my magic, but the fires burning deep inside were as strong as ever. “You need to get laid.”

I received the full force of her puppy dog eyes. “Please, Paisley. Please, please.”

It was only ten, so we had plenty of time to head out for the night. “You’re cute when you beg,” I said with a sigh. “Okay, let’s swing by home so I can get changed. Then we’ll catch an Uber.”

Sara let out a shriek, drawing attention our way.

She didn’t care.

“Let’s go, witch. I’m so ready. It was a long few weeks in Romania.”

I understood better than I wished I did.

My dry patch was a desert at this point. Might as well burn in the heat.



* * *




The Witching Hour was a club in downtown Spokane, and while it was open to humans, it was owned by a witch. No one knew which witch—hah!—but she catered to our kind. If you knew what to ask for.

“Come on, pleaseeee,” Sara was begging again, and I caved again.

“Okay, one wine. ONE! I’m still hungover from the last time I drank witch wine.”

Not to mention it ended up being one of the worst nights of my life, with Dad losing his job. One way or another, his trial would bring it all to an end, but I’d never forget waking up half-dead and learning what happened.

We weren’t old enough to purchase the wine legally, but Sara had been chatting up a warlock at the bar, and he was more than happy to provide us with drinks in exchange for my bestie’s ass in his hands as they danced in the middle of a floor filled with writhing bodies.

She was in her signature red, a short bodycon dress that hugged every curve. Her dark hair was curled down her back, and she wore five-inch heels to elevate her tiny stature.

Sipping my drink, I enjoyed the slide of warmth into my center as I watched the dance floor. The beat was dark and heavy, and with each sip of witch wine, the need to move filled me. My black dress was as tight and revealing as Sara’s, leaving my long legs on display. I wore heeled boots that shot me just over six feet tall.

I’d decided to let loose tonight. Sara had curled my golden-brown hair and lined my eyes in smoky shadows. My magic was suppressed, there were no monsters—I was topped up on potion—and I could ignore my problems for a few hours.

Throwing back the wine, I set the glass on the table and headed for the dance floor. My phone, tucked in my black chain shoulder bag, buzzed against my side, and I felt it all the way through my blood.

I was still ignoring his messages.

There was a mix of human and magical folk dancing, and for once I didn’t gravitate toward those with power. I just moved. The beat grew more intense, and with the heat of wine in my veins, I lifted my arms and swayed.

Losing myself.

Here, I wasn’t a demon-witch responsible for deaths.

I wasn’t worried about having my head removed due to a recessive gene.

I was a just a witch shaking her ass.

Firm hands landed on my hips, and as the scent of mint and evergreen washed over me, I released a long breath. I knew he’d come for me eventually, and now that he was here, the part of me that had been adrift since All Hallows’ finally settled.

Letting myself lean against him, the beat and energy filled us as we moved. Logan’s hard body pressed against my back, and his right hand slid possessively across my stomach, pulling me closer. Not a word was spoken, but our magic swirled with us, gliding over my skin until I was needy and breathless. We drew attention . . . or one of us did.

The six and a half feet of gorgeous warlock, no doubt, but I didn’t care.

I’d been craving this moment since that first message . . . Actually, since the moment he told Mom that I belonged to him and he’d give her a month.

I’d been subconsciously counting down.

The connection between us was slightly dulled by the suppression potion, but my magic would always find Logan.

It would recognize its match, even in a crowd of a million.

Logan spun me to face him, and despite the heels, I still had to tilt my head back to meet the ice of his light green eyes. That mossy ring at the center drew me closer, and our movement slowed as electricity crackled in the air, and Logan leaned down.

I forgot how to breathe, anticipating what he’d do next. “Precious,” he rumbled, a barely leashed ferality in my name. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to ask, “Where have you been? Why are you here now?”

His gaze remained firmly on my face as he took me in like he’d missed every part of me. “I kept my word and left you alone for a month. But I can’t stay away any longer.”

My stomach flipped, and I couldn’t deny the pull that I’d always felt between us. It was stronger than ever, and when his lips pressed against mine, I lost track of existence and the crowd faded around us. The music muted, as if we’d slipped underwater and were sinking away from the world.

As Logan demanded entrance, his tongue swiped across mine while his hands slid lower and wrapped around the bare skin of my thighs. He yanked me higher until our faces were even, and on instinct, my legs enclosed his waist. I hadn’t had a chance to really see what he wore, but I could feel denim brush my thighs, and the added friction had me arching against the spellcaster.