Page 32 of Not Your Ex's Hexes
“A heart?”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes with a dainty snort. “And I thought Harper was dramatic, but you like playing up the tortured hero shtick, don’t you?”
Rose thought he’d been joking, but he hadn’t.
Yeah, he had a heart. The thumping mass of blood and muscle resided in the center of his chest as it did with anyone, but unlike the typical human—or Supernatural, for that matter—dietary restrictions couldn’t be helped. But his wasn’t sodium.
Or cholesterol.
Or caffeine.
Damian’s was love. The act of fallinginlove.
“I hex you, Damian Adams. When you find that one person and realize they’re your everything, you’ll lose not only your heart, but your soul… and there will be no amount of Magic that will bring it back.”
Etched on a mental MP3 file in his head, his ex’s words reminded him that what Rose referred to as “his brooding” was one of many tactics he employed to keep people at arm’s length. It was right up there along with his one-night-stand rule and no hanging around for breakfast. Hell, he had at least a dozen more, ironic since it was his lack of rules—and boundaries—that had put him in this predicament.
He’d had tunnel vision at the height of his teenage Hunting career, thinking only about his next haul. He sure as hell hadn’t considered how the bounty life would affect his fledgling relationship with the witch down the block from where he trained… at least not until she felt slighted enough to start throwing hexes around and hurled a doozy of one right at his head.
Or more accurately, his heart.
Back in the day, he might have played it fast and loose, but suddenly, having a real, tangible threat to his humanity had given him the wake-up call he’d needed to step away from the Hunting life.
No Hunting and no deep-rooted feelings of love meant his heart and soul remained intact, and he’d like to keep it that way.
The truck cab grew silent as they got closer to Antoni’s Junk & Salvage. Last year, the owner had relocated to a retirement center where there was sun and surf all year round, and the depot— abandoned by his kids, who couldn’t have cared less about the place—had quickly fallen into deep disrepair.
Knowing that no one monitored the site, contractors and big companies saw—and often used—it as a free dumping ground for their leftover crap.
As expected, the front gate stood open, the rusted padlock broken either by kids or by whoever had dumped the animals. Damian nudged the gate open with the hood of the truck and carefully steered around debris on the way to the rear fence where Amir’s contact had heard crying.
The second Damian put the car in park, the sky opened up, rain dousing the ground in seconds.
“Shit,” Damian cursed, reaching into the backseat for his medical emergency bag. “You can stay in the truck and keep the heat pumping because when I find them, it’ll be important we get them warm.”
“Why would I stay in the truck?”
“Won’t you—?”
“If you’re about to ask me if I’ll melt in the rain, I swear to Goddess I’ll hex you so hard your head will spin.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one,” Damian muttered.
“What?”
Shit.He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“Nothing. Just didn’t know if you’d be up for it. It’s cold. Now wet. And we have no idea where these critters are, or if they’re even still here. It won’t be a quick search.”
She plucked the second flashlight from the center console. “Then it’s a good thing there’s two of us.”
Not waiting for him, she climbed out of the truck. To keep theirsupplies dry for as long as possible, they opted to take only themselves and the flashlights, and would come back for everything else if—or when—they found the pups.
Damian flickered his light along the fence. “Amir said the crying came from just inside the fence line, so we’ll walk the perimeter and keep our eyes and ears open. I’ll go left. You go right. When we hit the end, turn around and retrace your steps until we meet back here. Sound good?”
“Got it.” She pushed her wet hair, now plastered to her face, out of her eyes. “And we call out if we hear or see anything.”
