My belly tightened, desire sliding through my veins like honey, thick and syrupy. The longer we sat there, the harder it was for me to drag my attention away from how our thighs were touching. Or how much I wanted to lean up, take the soft skin of Roy’s earlobe into my mouth, and bite.

  I tried to distract myself by reaching for some of the popcorn, but Roy moved to grab some at the same time and our fingers ended up tangling together like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy. He turned his head to look at me, and my breath snagged in my throat at the look in his eyes. There was something dark there, something that felt like a hunger as bottomless as my own.

  The movie played on, forgotten in the background as we stared at each other, my pulse banging in my throat.

  Roy’s gaze dropped to my lips, and I fought the urge to lick them. When he leaned forward though, it wasn’t for a kiss. He leaned our foreheads together and sighed, his breath brushing over my mouth.

  “Fifi,” he said at last. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” My voice came out as a whisper.

  Everything felt still and quiet and private, the two of us sitting there in the dark, sharing breath. I fought back the desire to touch him, to kiss him, to taste him. Instead, I curled my hands into the blanket to keep myself from reaching for him.

  Roy swallowed, and I watched the thick bob of his throat the way wolves watch deer.

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

  And just like that, the heat in my blood turned to ice.

  I hadn’t been that scared when there was a gun pointed at my head, but the idea that Roy had lied to me about something? That was terrifying. Because Roy didn’t lie. In the entire time I’d known him, I’d never caught him in so much as a white lie—not with anyone and certainly not with me.

  I wanted to demand to know what he meant, but I couldn’t squeeze my voice out around the sudden lump in my throat. I could barely breathe around it at all. I felt like it was strangling me.

  Roy leaned back enough that we weren’t touching, other than where our hands were twined together in the bowl of popcorn. He took a breath that shuddered in his chest, letting it out slowly like a man bracing himself.

  I forced myself not to flinch.

  “When I said you were it for me, I meant it. You have no idea how much I meant it. But the truth is, it’s more than that.”

  “More than that?”

  He nodded. “I won’t ever leave you, because I don’t want to. And… I’m never going to want to because…”

  “Because,” I prodded him when it looked like he wasn’t going to finish his sentence.

  He breathed in deeply and then stared at me and I almost got lost in his gaze.

  “Because you’re my bond mate, Fifi.”

  The End

  ~~~~~

  Return to Haven Hollow in:

  Angora Alchemy

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  ANGORA ALCHEMY

  Haven Hollow #20

  (Wanda’s Witchery)

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  &

  H.P. MALLORY

  Angora Alchemy

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2022 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Angora Alchemy

  Chapter One

  “Something tells me I should cut you off,” Maverick said, while glancing down at my glass in amusement.

  We were sitting in the den of the coven house—a lovely Tudor Revival Lorcan had basically donated to the cause. Currently, Betanya and Olga (along with their familiars) were out for a night walk and Maverick and I were holding down the fort.

  I tugged the glass of Pinot Noir closer to my chest as (an admittedly fuzzy) part of my brain worried he might actually snatch it away. The action sloshed a little wine onto my cleavage, and I cursed, snatching a tissue from the side table before the stuff could soak into the mulberry silk blouse. If I ruined one of my favorite blouses on top of everything else that had been happening lately, I’d probably do something undignified like cry. And witches did not cry, especially around their annoying-as-hell warlock cousins.

  “Exhibit A, your honor,” the ‘annoying-as-hell’ cousin in question continued. “I present to you my cousin’s reckless endangerment of her clothing. Clearly, she’s drunk.”

  I was honestly impressed at Maverick’s restraint. I’d expected some lewd comment about my breasts and what else could be spilled on them. And, no, I wasn’t just being vain; Maverick had a long-standing obsession with me, owing to the fact that I’d been one of the few witches who hadn’t been outright cruel to him as he’d grown up. And honestly? I was a treat to look at, so I couldn’t fault him for his good taste. But the fact remained that we were first cousins so the ick factor was extreme, at least in my point of view. That ick factor hadn’t concerned Maverick at all.

  Men… they were certainly the less evolved of the two sexes.

  But back to the story at hand: Maverick and I had visited another coven four months ago for a Witch Assembly, and had uncovered an unsettling truth. My mother had been feeding warlocks and dissenting witches to the vampires for years, then binding those witches and warlocks so they couldn’t share her odious secret. Worse, she’d intended Maverick to meet the same fate.

  He and Astrid had been captured by a sadistic bitch named Janeth, who hunted our kind for sport. Maverick had protected Astrid from the crazy vampire, but it had come at a cost. Now he was just like me—a Blood Warlock to my Blood Witch. Or at least, that’s what I’d been before Lorcan’s ‘kiss’ had been returned to him.

  I honestly didn’t know what I was now.

  “Buzz off,” I muttered, taking a long pull from my glass.

  “An eloquent rebuttal,” Maverick responded dryly.

  Then, before I could stop him, he lunged, seizing the bottle from the side table. I tried to snatch it back but only succeeded in slopping more wine onto myself. I’d barely managed to catch the mess before it stained my clothes. Damn it, he might have had a point...

  “Asshole,” I said, though the word came out as more of a resigned sigh, really. I could fight him for the bottle, but it wasn’t worth it. “And I’m not drunk I’m just... tipsy.”

  “Tipsy. Sure,” he responded with a snort. “As in, about to tip onto the floor.”

  “Everyone is allowed a moment of inebriation, once in a while.”

  He frowned at me. “Just spill the frogspawn, Wanda. Something’s wrong. If you tell me what’s going on, I might be able to help you.”

  “You? Help me?” I chuckled at that and he colored.

  Once again, I had to marvel at how much Maverick had changed since the Assembly. I couldn’t point to one single thing as the cause, but he was a much nicer person than he’d been the last time we’d squared off. I was almost certain the change had started when he’d been accepted into our little, motley crew of a coven.

  For the first time in Maverick’s comparatively short life, he now had a community to fall back on. Putting himself in danger for Astrid had done a lot to repair their strained relationship too. But most of all, after everything that had happened and everything we’d learned, Maverick now knew he wasn’t a freak. More warlocks had existed before he’d ever been born, and it had only been my mother’s machinations that had kept us from knowing about them or knowing them. Now that the truth was out there, Maverick had gotten a lot more tolerable.

  It didn’t seem to matter that the warlocks in question were now vampires, he could still talk shop and confide in them when necessary. And what was more, Maverick seemed to idolize my brothers, William and Amos, those warlocks who had become vampires at Mother’s insistence. I could only imagine what it meant to Maverick to now know that he wasn’t even the first in the Depraysie line. In some ways, he was their brother as well as mine.

  “What’s going on, Wanda?” he insisted.

  “It’s not something you can help me with,” I sighed.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because… well, it’s Lorcan.”

  “You’re finally breaking up with the Irish bastard?” he asked, a little too hopefully. “It’s about time. I never liked him.”

  “And he feels just as warmly toward you,” I replied, spearing him with an unimpressed expression. “But no, I’m not breaking up with him.”

  Maverick deflated, just a little. It seemed at least a sliver of his crush on me still remained intact. Maybe he’d never get over me completely. Your first love stuck with you, even if the love was unrequited and mine had certainly been just that.

  “So, what has the bloodsucking bastard done now?”

  I tipped the glass back, downing the rest of the wine. It was tasteless like water, and I knew there wasn’t enough of it in the world to drown the reality of what Lorcan and I had done.

  What Lorcan and I had done…

  Over the last few weeks, the blood bond had appeared to be dissolving, freeing me to live my life exactly the way I had before—allowing me to become the witch I always had been. Of course, it would still be a life with Lorcan in it, but I’d come to accept that. No, I’d come to appreciate it. Why? Because the truth of the whole stupid thing was that I was in love with him.

  Yes, I, Wanda Independent Depraysie, was in love with a man. And not just any man—a vampire. And not just any vampire—a dentist.

  I was still trying to get used to this new knowledge because witches, as a rule, didn’t fall in love. And, despite everything that had passed between Lorcan and me recently, I still loved him. It was a love that was a lot like a piece of gum stuck to your shoe—no matter how you tried to rub it off in the grass, pick it out with a twig or turn the hose on it, it wouldn’t go away. Furthermore, I didn’t assume these feelings of mine were going to pass any time soon, which was a bit of a shame because in general, I didn’t like the idea of anyone owning a piece of me, especially my heart. But that blasted Lorcan Rowe most certainly owned a piece of my heart, if not the whole thing. Yes, he was the quintessential gum embedded in my shoe.

  Well, perhaps he doesn’t own your whole heart, I thought to myself, uncomfortable with the subject and trying to seek a way out. After all, what about Astrid? And Poppy owns a good chunk of it too.

  Not in a lesbian sort of way, mind you. Although, were I to ever become a lesbian, Poppy would most likely be my first choice in girlfriend. But that is a subject for another book.

  As to this exact moment… well, every part of me ached to track that vampire dentist down and give him a piece of my mind. And then a good taste of everything else I had to offer. And that was exactly what couldn’t happen because… well, it had been the cause of this whole nightmare in the first place.

  I cast my gaze around the den, avoiding Maverick’s piercing gray eyes.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

  I faced him and frowned. “I was just thinking about being a lesbian and… Poppy.”

  Maverick’s eyes about bulged out of his head and his interest level in the conversation might have doubled. Perhaps even tripled. “And?”

  “And nothing… unfortunately for you and that little, pervy walnut you call a brain, that’s as far as my thoughts went.”

  He frowned as he shook his head. “Pity.”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes and admit the truth about my feelings for Lorcan because I was fairly sure Maverick would ridicule me. And if there was anything I disliked, it was being ridiculed. It was much easier to examine the well-worn spines of the spell books on a row of shelves or admire the cabinet full of potions supplies just behind Maverick’s velvet armchair. So that’s exactly what I did.

  A fire crackled in the grate, tinged green by some herb or another my cousins had collected during their daily outings through the forest that bordered the property. The Tudor sat alone at the top of a small hill, surrounded with forest on one side and a small lake and meadow on the other. It was quiet and private and perfect for witches to conduct witchy business.

  “It smells good in here,” I said, inhaling deeply. As we were sitting there, the smell in the room had gone from a refreshing, lemony scent and gradually transformed into a sweet, fruity aroma with grassy notes. It was like walking through the woods after a rain, when the ozone douses everything in a wash of freshness.

  “That’s the verbena I put on the logs in the grate,” Maverick responded.

  It was comforting to know that I now had Maverick around as backup when Astrid needed supplementary schooling—even if he was beyond nosy.

  “Ah,” I answered and then smiled absent-mindedly at the fire.

  “Talk to me, Wanda,” Maverick prompted gently. It was jarring. Maverick wasn’t gentle. He was an abrasive jerk, and I preferred him that way.

  “You can’t help me. What’s done is done,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  “I can listen,” he countered. “Isn’t that something?”

  It was, and he was putting forward open effort, trying to be a nicer person. Damn him. How could I snub him when he was making genuine change? He could always go back to being my adversary, and I already had enough of those.

  “What have Betanya and Olga told you about my magic?” I asked, trying to delay the inevitable. Maybe if they’d shared the whole truth, I wouldn’t have to divulge the humiliating reality of what I was now going through.

  Maverick’s brows knit together and he chewed his lip as he tried to recall. “Betanya and Olga said that Janeth’s blooding essentially undid what Lorcan began with you. There couldn’t be two vampire bonds, so they basically negated each other.” He shrugged.

  “Was that all they told you?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “They seem to believe you aren’t a Blood Witch anymore. Darkness still stains your soul, but you won’t be urged to complete the transition by a bond. Betanya told me I should try to find one of the new vampires in town to see if they’re able to break the bond I now have with Janeth but...”

  He trailed off, face screwing up with disgust. I didn’t blame him. Yes, my brothers and my lover were bloodsucking creatures of the night, but that didn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction to the idea of being bitten or blooded by one. Witches and warlocks had a long, convoluted and mostly ugly history with vampires, and those lessons were hard to unlearn.

  Not to mention the fact that Janeth had been especially brutal, all but assaulting Maverick as she tried to turn him. I completely understood his reluctance to let another vampire even so much as look at him.

  “I get it,” I offered.

  “Do you?”

  I frowned. “Yes, Maverick, counter to popular opinion, I can be understanding.”

  “Don’t lose your edge, cousin mine,” he answered with a broad grin but I could tell the subject still bothered him. As well it should—for a long while, I imagined. Or however long it took him to build up the nerve to break the blood bond with Janeth by employing the bite of another vamp.

  “My edge is as much a part of me as is your penchant for annoying me,” I answered as his grin broadened.

  “Getting back to the subject,” he started while I glanced down to inspect my nails.

  It was time for another manicure. “At least Betanya is working on a possible solution for you that doesn’t require Janeth’s blood.” I looked up at him then. “And if that solution works, you should be free of Janeth… forever.”

  “Maybe,” Maverick said but didn’t sound convinced. “But you’re changing the subject again.”

  “Isn’t this the point at which you’re supposed to take a hint?”

  “I was never good at taking hints.”

  I stopped inspecting my nails and looked up at him. “Wow, self-awareness… this is a moment I never thought I’d witness from you, Maverick.” Now it was my turn to smile.

  But Maverick only frowned. “What aren’t you telling me, Wanda?” Then he grew quiet as his eyes narrowed on me and he swallowed hard. “If you’re deflecting, it has to be bad.”

  “It is,” I answered with a grimace and a sigh as I rested my gaze on the burning logs once again. There was something calming about fire—how it destroyed everything in its path without regret.

  “And?”

  I took a deep breath, steeled myself for his reaction, and blurted out the truth. “Lorcan and I are married.”

  Chapter Two

  I couldn’t have stunned Maverick more if I’d aimed a hex right between his eyes.

  His lips parted but no sound came out. I’d staunched the seemingly neverending flow of sarcasm and caustic one-liners if only for a few seconds. I’d have congratulated myself for that feat if the truth wasn’t so damned humiliating.

  “You what?” he half-shouted.

  “You heard me.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” He shook his head and took a deep breath, no doubt so he could lampoon me even louder. Then he started pacing across the den, hands clasped behind his back as he paced back again, looking like some morose romantic poet lost in the sea of his turbulent thoughts.

  “Are you insane?” he asked as he finally stopped his pacing and looked over at me.

  “Probably.”

  He shook his head. “Dating the bastard is one thing, but marriage? Wanda, that’s beyond the pale! We don’t do marriage! And you know that!”

  “Want to scream it a little louder, Mav? I don’t think they heard you in Portland.” I could only wonder when Betanya and Olga would return from their walk and hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

  Maverick’s eyes bugged out of his head and I wondered if I should tell him it really wasn’t a good look on him. Before I could say as much, a thought occurred to him and he slammed his hand against his face: “Portland... oh, dragon balls!” He dropped his hand then and looked at me. His eyes were a little less orbish. “Does my mother know? Does Tabitha know?”