Page 26 of Bewitched (Hexes and Fangs: Holiday Editions #1)

I t’s All Hallow’s Eve and I still have plenty to accomplish. The store is accessible for part of the day. I still need to kick Nox’ ass for setting fire to the orphanage due to my panic. And I have to kill him tonight. I can’t delay it anymore. Nothing from Zilla’s list is working.

He burned the building and killed every single monster that was in it.

Because of my terror. Because I told him what happened to us.

He released the girls who were inside. They are free because of Nox.

My heart races just a little faster, as if it’s keeping up with the joy bubbling inside me.

I catch myself smiling for no reason, thoughts drifting toward him, replaying the moments that make my chest feel light. I like him... But he is poisoned.

Zilla talked me into trick-or-treating tonight, so I am totally on board.

Naturally, she’s donned her feline finest—the mysterious allure of Cat-woman.

I dress as the female devil. Everything black: leather mini skirt, a corset—made of satin, in a deep night shade that adds timeless elegance, a gothic piece that laces up in the front…

for convenience — thigh-high leather boots and gloves.

A headband hidden in my raven hair with bright red devil horns and a pitchfork.

Red lipstick, smoky eyes and a sharp eyeliner for the drama.

The crisp autumn air carries the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires as groups of costumed children roam the streets.

Porch lights glow warmly, illuminating homes decorated with eerie cobwebs, flickering jack-o-lanterns, and ghostly silhouettes swaying in the breeze.

A trio of kids—one dressed as a witch, another as a pirate, and the third as a tiny, mischievous vampire—approach a doorstep, clutching their candy buckets tightly.

The door creaks open, revealing someone wearing a horror pumpkin mask, splattered with real blood, a bowl brimming with treats in his hands.

"Trick or treat!" the children chorus, their voices a perfect mix of enthusiasm.

With a chuckle, the man drops handfuls of candy into their buckets, earning grateful grins before the kids scamper off to the next house, eager for more sugary treasures.

Down the street, a werewolf and a skeleton argue over who got the best candy haul.

The night hums with excitement, the perfect blend of spookiness and joy.

A haunted house inside the building I assume Nox lives in.

The moment I step through the creaking doorway, the air turns cool.

A dim light casts eerie shadows on the walls, twisting familiar shapes into something far more sinister.

A slow, steady yell echoes from somewhere unseen, and distant whispers seem to slither through the darkness, just beyond reach.

Cobwebs brush against my skin as I pass beneath a sagging archway, sending a shiver down my spine.

A sudden gust of wind slams the door shut behind me, trapping me in its unsettling embrace.

‘Welcome’ someone yells. Its voice more of a robot sound.

At least I am not alone. Four other girls enter before me.

Ahead, a staircase looms, its steps vanishing into shadow.

The flicker of candlelight reveals fleeting glimpses—a pair of glowing eyes in the corner, a shadow darting across the hallway, an old rocking chair swaying though no one sits upon it.

The silence is broken by a low, guttural laugh from somewhere deep within the house, followed by the faint, metallic scrape of something being dragged along the floor.

I climb the stairs and something from inside the wall grabs my wrist for a second, then it lets me go, laughing.

I love this. A long, dark hallway. As I walk, I scrape my pitchfork on the wooden floor.

One of the girls screams and then the others laugh.

Someone sneaks up behind me and wraps their arms around my waist, ushering me into one of the rooms. I gasp as the door clicks shut.

The sound of the key turning echoes like thunder in my ears.

He leans in, his mask hovering near. Cigarette smoke with notes of amber, blood orange, wood and leather contribute to his wild scent. I feel my thighs burning.

"Nice house." I push his chest away from me. It’s dark. I can barely see his mask. He switches the lights on, and I look around the room. His room. A coffin in the middle of it.

"You sleep inside a coffin?" I lean the pitchfork on the wall.

"No. I said I’ll taste you inside it."

I lift his skull mask and he winks. His hand over my shoulder, on the wall. I tug at his shirt, pulling him closer. Our lips brush. "And have me bent over it." I kiss him. I don’t know why I just did that.

His tongue meets mine, and his hand moves from the wall to my neck. Again, the perfect choker.

"Like the good girl that you are, you have other plans, don’t you?"

"I am a good girl, I am finishing what I started." I caress his neck tattoo with my lips. A soft, sweeping lick, and my fingers eagerly explore beneath his shirt. Every single muscle.

"Mmm." It’s the only thing he can say before I put my mouth on his again.