Flint Lock (Witches of Karma #10) Read Online Free PDF Page A

slowly.
    “Like, ‘woohoo, I win’,” she said, her voice flat. Apparently, she was used to having to explain her name.
    I’d been there a couple times myself. No one expected a real person to be named ‘Flint’. I nodded. “Okay, Win.”
    “And you are?” she prompted, framing her chin in her hands.
    I stared down at my plate again, at my hands, at the table, anywhere but her face. I didn’t want to answer that. Eating was one thing, but becoming me—becoming Flint again? I wasn’t ready for that.
    Better to keep my brain fuzzy.
    “Fine,” she sighed, after an awkward moment. “I’ll stitch up your head, throw out your demon, and let you be on your way—no name required.”
    I nodded, still avoiding her gaze.
    That was probably best, for all of us.

Chapter Four

    WIN
     
    I had officially lost whatever self-preservation instincts I had been born with. When my sisters found out that I was feeding and caring for a man with his very own baby demon inside of him, they were going to have some strong words for me.
    Hopefully, strong words that would not reach the ears of our parents.
    Unlike my guest, I didn’t want to die.
    Despite his little fainting fit over seeing blood, he didn’t make so much as a whimper as I jabbed him with local anesthetics and stitched up the gash in his head. I had to shave his hair around the wound, so I could stitch it neatly. I felt a brief wave of sadness at the loss of that dark, thick hair.
    He hadn’t flinched at that, either.
    When he looked in the mirror I used to show him the neat line of stitches across his scalp, he grabbed my clippers without even a moment of hesitation, and went ahead and shaved the rest of his hair off, so that it was all one length. All I could do was keep him from accidentally cutting his new stitches while he was at it.
    The severe cut made his face even more angular and strong looking, especially with the way he kept clenching his jaw, as if he were in pain or stressing out about something. If he spent all his time doing that, he was going to grind his teeth down to stubs. It was an incredibly masculine face. There was no softness in him—at least, not anywhere that I could see. He was like a piece of stone, with those blue eyes of his refusing to sparkle the way I knew they should.
    Well, I wasn’t going to peek at his soul just so I could find out what was going on in his head. That was going to have to wait until I had to get rid of that pesky demon of his.
    And that was going to have to wait until I’d had a shower, and finished with my morning clients. I stank of blood, betadine, and sweat—both my own, and that of my stranger. There was no way I was going to go through my day with that smell following me around.
    I wasn’t going to let this cog in the wheels throw me completely out of rhythm, either. I was not going to let this man affect me, any more than I had ever let a man control my life. I was strong, independent, and cranky.
    That demon better look out for me. It was going down.
    I couldn’t help but be aware of the stranger as I took my shower. There was a man in my house. A strange man. I must have checked the locks on my bathroom door five times, before I even started to shampoo my hair.
    And why should having a man in my house throw me for such a loop? Did I really need to shave my legs, just because of the increase of local testosterone? I was going to wear jeans all day, anyway. It wasn’t like anyone would know whether I had shaved or not.
    I growled and shaved my legs.
    I wasn’t going to wear my best underwear, though, I decided. I had to draw the line somewhere.
    Granny panties, it would be.
    I finished pulling on my boots, just as the chime from the clinic door rang. I swore as I glanced at my clock. I grabbed my brush and ran it through my hair a couple times before bolting from my room.
    The bell rang again.
    I nearly bumped into my stranger as I hurried to answer it. He loomed in the hallway, a shadowy, slumped