Page 80 of Zomromcom

A twentysomething woman with coppery brown skin, a long ponytail, and a knife strapped to her thigh stood framed in the doorway, her dark eyes sharp with suspicion, her feet braced in a battle-ready stance.

“Hi!” Edie waved. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but we couldn’t afford to wait. I’m—”

“Edie. Riley warned me you might show up sooner or later. I’m Sabrina.” The other woman offered her a tight smile before turning to Max. “Vampire.”

“Witch,” he responded with silky cordiality.

There were far more important matters at hand, Edie knew. Given the circumstances, this encounter had already taken far too long, but…yeah. She had to say it.

“Sabrina?” Edie tried very, very hard not to snort. “You’re a witch named…Sabrina?”

“My parents had a weakness for nineties sitcoms,” Sabrina the Twentysomething Witch muttered. “Just ask my brother Urkel.”

Edie turned away and coughed. Loudly.

“Sorry,” she choked out. “Swallowed wrong.”

Max thumped her back, his own stern expression cracking a little at the edges.

The witch rapidly regained both her composure and her wary scowl. “I want your name, vamp. Then I want to know why I should let a blood-hungry, far-too-powerful creature of violence past my wards and into my home.”

Yikes. The creation of the Supernatural and Enhanced Ruling Council must have beenfun.

He took his time replying, and when he finally spoke, he sounded bored. “All our lives are at stake. And if I’d intended harm to you, you’d know by now.”

“Max.” Edie elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “That wasn’t reassuring. Like, at all.”

If they hoped to coax Sabrina into helping them, the three of them needed to reach at least a tentative truce. Which meant Max should let Edie take the lead and shut his very attractive mouth.

“No, it wasn’t. But the fact that you’re human and apparently unharmed, and you seem to trust him…” Sabrina’s chest rose and fell on a sigh. “That’sreassuring. I suppose. Although you could just be an idiot.”

Max stiffened again. “Edie is highly intelligent, witch.”

His voice had turned sharp, his accent slightly French, and Edie wound her arms around his waist and pressed up against his side in an effort to distract him with her boobs.

“Hmmm.” Sabrina eyed them both balefully.

Max’s mouth opened, most likely in preparation to say something offensive or inflammatory. Edie reached up and gently but firmly sealed her palm over his lips. In retaliation, he lightly scraped an incisor over the pad of flesh below her thumb. As she shivered in response, he somehow managed to radiate smug satisfaction without uttering a single word.

Sabrina’s coffee-brown stare focused on Edie. “He sniffed out Riley’s trail, didn’t he? Like an overgrown, leather-clad bloodhound.”

When he didn’t attempt to protest that description, Edie dropped her hand, although she left it free for emergency-silencing purposes. “Or Lassie. That was my go-to reference.”

“Nice.” Sabrina’s brief grin flickered, and then she sighed again. “Give me five minutes. My wife is gravely ill, and I need to take care of her before dealing with you two.”

She shut the door in their faces.

“Such gracious hospitality,” Max said loudly enough to be heard through the paneled wood, and Edie’s elbow found his ribs once again.

“I hate that Sabrina’s wife is so sick.” She hung her head. “Now I feel even worse about asking her to risk her life.”

He tugged gently at a lock of her hair. “You had no way of knowing and no choice but to ask.”

“Maybe once our cluster of unfortunateness is less…uh, unfortunate, I can get to know them better and help out somehow.”

His voice was as dry as her dehumidified garage. “Much like a reality television contestant in the early 2000s, I’m pretty sure Sabrina isn’t here to make friends.”

“Then it’ll be a delightful surprise for her when she makes friends anyway. I’ve broken the will of greater cynics than Sabrina.” Like, say, the vampire currently stroking a thumb down her bent neck. “I intend to make her my cream cheese–swirl brownies. Resistance is futile, albeit delicious.”