Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 Read Online Free PDF Page A

excited over.
    “My shop. It’s only two blocks from here.”
    Much as he wished he could do him and his dick a favor and just teleport out of there, the loss of blood had affected him more than he cared to admit. Still, if he rode it out for a few minutes, he might gather enough energy to drag his ass home. Something told him his self-appointed savior wouldn’t make it that easy on him though.
    “I’ll get blood all over your car,” he said in hopes of convincing her to leave him alone.
    “I didn’t drive.”
    It took a moment to catch her meaning. “You’re going to make me walk two blocks while I’m bleeding out?” He grunted. “And you witches have the balls to call us evil sadists.”
    She shrugged. “I truly doubt you’re going to keel over dead in the next fifteen minutes.”
    Yeah, rub it in. Biting off a growl, he stalked after her. The journey to her shop was occupied with the effort not to pass out or stare at her delectable butt. Either chore was harder done than said. By the time he leaned on the front window of her store while she dug in her purse for the keys, he was breathing heavily, for both above reasons.
    The sooner he was stitched up and out of there, the better. To distract himself from her sweet, intoxicating scent, he glanced at the filigreed metal sign hanging above the door. Bella’s Boutique. The name was fragile and feminine, like her. She looked over her shoulder and caught him staring at the sign. It could have been worse. She could have busted him for ogling her ass.
    Pushing the door open, she flicked on the overhead lights before ushering him inside. After securing the lock behind them, she started across the room, her heels tapping on the gleaming floor planks. He pushed forward and staggered slightly, the wooziness from the blood loss getting the better of him. The sense of weakness made him grouchier. Which might explain his sudden desire to bait his tempting rescuer. “Aren’t you afraid to be locked in here with the big bad demon, Glinda?”
    She shot him a quick look, her lips twitching. “ Glinda ? As in good witch? Wow, who knew demons have a sense of humor?” She swept him with an appraising eye. “And really, you’re in no condition to do anything to me. I’m not worried.”
    Her statement only stoked his foul mood. If he didn’t suspect he was seconds away from collapsing, he’d show her just how worried she should be. He stalked after her as she ventured to the rear of the shop. They passed several small rooms. When they strode by a display presided over by a daybed with a veritable mountain of frilly pillows, his overactive imagination betrayed him yet again with lusty thoughts. Only this time the tableau in his head centered around the tempting visual of burying himself balls-deep in her pussy while she grasped the brass side rail for dear life.
    Using the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop the sweat from his brow, he tore his gaze from the bed and joined her inside a tiny kitchenette.
    Frown lines tweaked her brow while she eyed his approach. “You can barely stand up straight.”
    “Is that your way of accusing me of drinking too much?”
    “No, it’s my way of saying you’re hurting way worse than you let on.” She yanked a ladder-back chair away from the pine table in the middle of the room and pointed to its rush-woven seat. “Sit.”
    “Bossy much?” Despite his sarcasm, he sagged onto the chair. He battled the strong temptation to close his eyes until the dizziness passed and instead kept the witch fixed in his sights as she walked to the sink and pulled a dishtowel from one of the drawers. A second later, the splash of running water muffled the jackhammer starting up in his brain. He grimaced and dug his thumb and forefinger into his temple. Usually alcohol had little negative side effect on him. Course, six months of torture was bound to weaken anyone’s defenses.
    His rescuer rung out the towel before swiveling and striding in his direction.