Page 5 of Hexed Up

“No idea.”

“Did what work?” Mr Hottie says, finally seeming to have regained his senses. “And, sorry, how did you get here? And are you … going to one of those comic-cons or something?”

“Rude!” my friend snorts.

“Damien, tidy up,” I say, trotting back towards Mr Hottie.

“Sorry to be rude, but you … errr … have to go,” I tell him

“Is that wise?” Damien mutters, already using his magic to sweep away all the evidence incriminating my kitchen.

I ignore him, continuing to address Mr Hottie. “I need to clean up and I’m expecting–”

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain what the hell is going on here!” he demands in that intimidating manner that has my knees buckling.

“Tick tock,” Damien says helpfully.

I look up into Mr Hottie’s resolute face. If there was a moment I could muster the courage to stand up to the man, this would be it. Unfortunately, he’s too scary.

“I’ll explain everything in just a moment. I promise,” I tell him, taking his hand in mine. “But would you mind just waiting for me in the bedroom? Just for a moment. I won’t be long, I promise. And then …” I hesitate, attempting a reassuring smile, “I’ll come join you.”

I tug on his arm, attempting to lead him in that direction.

“You want me to wait for you in the bedroom?”

“Yes.” I nod my head eagerly and pull at his sleeve.

“And then you’ll be,” he peers over at Damien, “joiningme?”

“Yep,” I say, relieved when his body slackens and I’m able to move him across my flat and through the doorway into my bedroom. As I push him through and slam the door closed behind him, I pray to every pagan god that I picked up the pile of dirty washing from my floor and placed it in the laundry basket this morning, and that my trusty vibrator is tucked away in my makeup drawer and not charging by my bed.

I lean against the door and sigh.

“I think the potion worked,” Damien says, twirling his fingers around as my kitchen cleans itself.

“Why do you say that?”

“That man was way too eager to enter your bedroom.”

“That doesn’t mean–”

“Molly, exactly how many men have you been able to tempt into your bedroom over the last twelve months?”

I give him the finger and remind him there would be a lot more men in my bedroom if he’d let me continue my penchant for bad boys.

“Bad boys are good for a quick, not-necessarily satisfying fuck,” he reminds me once again for the one billionth time, “but you want something more than that.”

“Do I though?” Truth be told, I may own the Ferrari of vibrators, with twenty different speeds and fifteen different modes, but I’m becoming a little bored of my bedroom companion.

Damien opens his mouth to argue with me, but then his horns start to twitch.

“Incoming!” he warns, and I dive across the sofa to retrieve my discardedStonest-shirt.

I’m struggling to pull it over my head when there’s another loudpop!in my kitchen, which can mean only one thing.

The Magical Enforcement Officer has arrived.

I take a deep inhale and pray a second time in as many minutes.