Page 14 of Bewitched (Hexes and Fangs: Holiday Editions #1)

A brass bell jingles as the door swings open. I hoist my eyes to Zilla walking into the shop with two coffees in her hands.

"Good morning!"

"The sign was indicating ‘closed’."

"Let me check if I care." She moves toward the counter.

The cups, branded with a charming logo from the café down the street, gleam with tiny wisps of steam curling into the morning light.

As she sets them down, the soft clink of plastic against the wood joins the quiet hum of the shop, blending seamlessly with the rustling of candy wrappers. "Found anything?"

My fingertips navigate the sheets of a timeworn book. "Unfortunately, yes… love potion…" I sip the hot coffee and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Makes sense. Three of them said they are in love with you?"

"Were… Nox killed them."

"But he ate the candy too, or?"

"Yeah…"

"Holy shit, Neo… We need to find a way to undo it."

"The book talks about ways to undo it."

"You are going to torture the poor vampire, aren’t you?"

"Use him… kill him after if it doesn’t work."

I shove my things into my bag and, with one hand, navigate on my phone’s map.

"Where are you going?"

"To the prison."

The air feels heavier as I drive through the towering gates, opened for visitors.

A stark building looms ahead, its cold concrete walls lined with razor wire, standing firm against the outside world.

Inside, fluorescent lights hum softly, casting a sterile glow over the rows of metal chairs in the waiting area.

An uniformed officer at the front desk reviews paperwork, his expression neutral.

I hand over my identification as soon as he asks for my name.

Emptying my pockets of everything, I pass through a metal detector.

"Name of the inmate you are visiting?"

I stare at him for a while, hesitant. "Nox…"

He laughs. I have a feeling he knows him. "Alright. You have 30 minutes. No touching!"

Beyond the checkpoint, a corridor stretches ahead.

The smell of disinfectant lingers, mixed with something faintly metallic.

I reach the visitation room. I sit down, my bag on my lap.

At least I am not alone. Two women are crying, while the other three seem too bored for what is about to come. I start picking at my red nail.

"Nightshade."

I look up at him, standing in front of me.

Clad in just gray sweatpants, his hands are shackled in front of his impressive body.

Light catches on his inked skin, tracing intricate designs across his arms, chest and on the muscles of his abdomen.

Revealing the hard lines of muscles beneath swirling patterns of ink.

Those pants on him.

Veins ripple beneath his skin on both arms.

"Bat boy." I swallow.

His smile is warm, effortless—the kind that instantly makes you wet.

It starts slow, a gentle curve at the corner of his lips, before spreading fully, lighting up his face.

His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. Maybe it’s the way he tilts his head.

Maybe his fangs and me wanting them inside my skin.

"You came."

"You literally told me to be here." My gaze crawls across his chest, a canvas of sculpted strength. The contours of his arms ripple with power, each muscle a testament to his size. He is a towering presence, an impressive blend of force and darkness. He once told me his tattoos are the last words or actions of those whom he has killed. He is fully covered in them. That means… His gaze hooks in mine, a magnetic pull I can’t resist. He can see I’m staring. "Are they out of shirts?"

"Boxer briefs, too."

I roll my eyes. "Listen to me…"

"Like a good boy."

"Nox… I mean it!"

He leans into the metal chair. His handcuffed arms on his lap. "I adore how you say my name—a blend of desire and hate."

I lift myself, thumping the table with my bag. Everyone’s attention falls on me.

"Stay… please." His voice is more of a whisper.

I ease back into my seat, dropping my bag onto the nippy linoleum.

"Good girl."

I move closer, my breasts colliding with the table’s edge.

"Nox, I swear on my Coven, if you get out of here, I am going to fucking kill you!" My posture shifts—arms crossed, a slight lean into the cold chair, I tap my fingers on my arm, my leg bouncing, betraying my impatience.

I want to climb on this table, sit on his lap, and strangle him with a cord made from the fluttering creatures that batter my insides.

"What’s wrong?"

It’s an internal tug of war. I open my mouth, but hesitate.

"10 more minutes!" The officer’s voice startles everyone.

What? How???

"I made a mistake…" I look into his gray eyes, finding my reflection in them.

His brow furrows slightly, a crease forming between his eyes as he stares at me.

His head tilts, like he is trying to adjust his perspective, as if a different angle might make things clearer. His eyes dart from my eyes to my lips.

"Details, nightshade…"

"You know what that means? Don’t call me that!"

"A plant related to the potato?"

I am going to punch him in the face.

"It is a poisonous plant, asshole."

"See? It fits you perfectly."

My jaw tightens, I feel the heat rising in my chest, each breath sharper. "Yes! You know why? I’ve unleashed chaos—poisoned half the fucking city."

"What?" I see it in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, a slight narrowing as he tries to piece together what doesn’t quite fit.

"I spilled love potion into the cauldron."

"That explains their affection."

"I need to be locked up, not you." I hit my spine to the chair and can finally breathe freely.

"It’s not my first time in prison, Neo."

"I can tell…" I look at his exposed chest. He lays his hands on the table, relaxed.

Teeth marks. The imprint left by my bite inked into his skin.

My heart stutters for a second as I take it in—the lines, the ink, the permanence of it.

He marked his skin with something tied to me… my bite on him. What? "No…"

He laughs, teasing—a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his chuckle laced with affection and pride.

"What do you want, nightshade?" He brings up his arms, elbows leaning on the metal table, his chin propped on them. He loves this. Me needing him. I can’t lift my eyes from his tattoo.

I swallow my words like bitter slime, holding back a storm.

Instead, I look at him—confident, inviting, holding just enough mystery to keep him intrigued.

There’s a playful smirk at the corner of my lips, just enough to suggest I am in control of the moment.

I bend closer, giving him a view of my black lace bra.

His eyes land smack in the net. I am a fucking Venus flytrap.

"You want me to kill them, don’t you?" Keeping his focus on my breasts, I lift his chin with my finger.

"I said no touching!" The officer’s voice interrupts my act.

I fold my fingers together like in a plea and place my chin on them. "Just the ones that won’t cooperate."

"Time’s up!"

I stand up and Nox follows my movements. With a sophisticated twist of my body, I turn to exit the room. Nox is close to my back, his cock brushing on my ass. He bends, his voice close to my ear. "What do I get in return?"

I pull a lace lingerie piece from my bag and pass it to him. His hand wraps it wholly; a tight fist.

I find myself wrapped in sheets, like a prey caught in spiderweb, lost in thoughts.

The air carries the scent of spiced cider.

Alcohol crawling into my mind. Shadows stretch longer in the soft candle glow, making even ordinary objects feel slightly mysterious in my room.

A horror movie is playing on my phone. A bowl of salty popcorn sprinkled with cherry syrup sits within reach.

Hex springs from my lap and runs out of the room.

I get a prickling sensation—a subtle awareness that something feels off.

My eyes dart to the dark corners, places where shadows stretch longer than they should.

Maybe the feeling is irrational, just a trick of my mind.

But still, my heartbeat quickens. I turn slowly, half-expecting to find someone standing there.

My pulse thuds in my ears as I hold my breath, waiting.

Nothing. Yet the unease lingers, settling into my bones, whispering that I am not as alone as I think.

I rise from my bed; my ebony silk nightdress barely concealing my thighs.

He stands at the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of streetlights.

His breath fogs the glass ever so slightly as he leans in.

Fingers trail absently along the edge of the frame.

His eyes shift, scanning my body. The floor beneath me barely registers as my bare feet walk forward.

I open the terrace door and he barges in, uninvited, hauling the cold from the street along.

He approaches me quickly, his steps brimming with audacity.

No hint of shyness, just a fluid grace in his movements.

Unfettered and bold, he commands the space around him.

His arms wrap around me with strength, muscles flexing as he lifts me effortlessly off the ground.

I instinctively grip his shoulders for balance, gasping, surprised by the sudden shift.

My body leans into his, trusting the hold, feeling the coldness of his embrace.

His body feels like ice. He steadies me, adjusting his grip.

The press of my thighs wrapped around his waist, locking us together.

His hands settle at my sides, securing me in place, fingers pressing gently against my skin.