Next morning … long after dawn

Kerr in bobcat form tugged the light coverlet with his teeth, uncovering Ammy, and then rubbed the scent glands in his cheek over all of her exposed skin he could reach. Mac might’ve kept Kerr from marking all of the damn house, but Kerr could still protect his little witch from predatory males by temporarily marking her skin with his scent.

After his altercation with Mac the previous evening, Kerr had climbed through the window and spent the remainder of the night in his animal form, stretched alongside Ammy’s legs … on top of the blankets, unfortunately. He’d felt quite virtuous.

Sitting on his haunches, Kerr took in the vision that was his mate. The nightie she wore—more like a sheer slip—exposed a lot of her creamy, fine-pored skin. He rubbed his cheek over a spot he was sure he’d missed in his first pass—the place where her neck met her shoulder, where one day she’d wear his bite, marking her permanently as his. He gave her sweet-smelling skin a little lick and purred. She tasted as delicious as she smelled.

Ammy murmured, “Stop that, Oliver,” but didn’t awaken. His little witch sure was a heavy sleeper.

“Aren’t you overdoing it a bit?” Oliver commented from his spot at the end of the bed. “Any animal, two-natured or not, could smell a fraction of the scent you’re covering her with.”

Kerr glared at Oliver. No.

Unlike the familiar, he couldn’t speak aloud in his animal form, but his telepathy was excellent, no matter his shape. Defiantly, he resumed marking his little witch.

“Besides the overwhelming aroma of your mating hormones, and her body’s equally strong response”—Oliver lifted a paw and gave it a lazy lick—“you glowered at every male present last evening. I think they got the point. The word has probably spread all over the valley by now. No one’s going to steal Amethyst from you.”

After one last brush of his cheek over Ammy’s shoulder, Kerr jumped to the floor and shifted. Naked, he stood, hands on his hips, and glared at Oliver. “I know those assholes better than you. They’d poach as soon as I turned my back. Several of them are desperate enough to steal another man’s mate.”

“Bloody hell, I think I just went blind.” Oliver placed a paw over his eyes. “Um, could you cover up your junk, please? Your morning wood is distracting.”

Kerr snorted. “You’ll survive.”

“Fine. Ignore my sensibilities, you wanker,” Oliver said. “But you might want to cover that log between your thighs before Amethyst wakes up. You don’t want to scare her away. Trust me, her previous lovers weren’t all that well-equipped.”

“You watched her have sex?” Kerr frowned, then held up a hand. “No, don’t explain—but if I catch you sneaking a peak when I’m making love to Ammy, I’ll make cat hash out of you and feed you to the wolves. You get me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oliver shifted position and lifted a leg, then licked his balls. A feline’s version of up yours. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Don’t bet on it, buddy. My cat senses work no matter what form I’m in.” Kerr pulled the coverlet back over Ammy’s body so she wouldn’t get a chill. What he really wanted to do was crawl into bed, in his human form this time, wake her up, and make her completely his.

“Want my advice?” Oliver asked. “Or do you want to threaten me some more?”

“Not a threat, buddy.” Kerr smiled. “But I’m happy to take any and all advice on how to make this change in her life easier for her.”

“I like you, boy, despite your threats to my person.” Oliver tucked his legs under his pudgy body, Sphinx-like, and turned a basilisk stare on Kerr. “You need to keep in mind that while our witch is no virgin, she’s still naive when it comes to true male-female intimacy, and overall has no reason to trust men.”

“Why?” Kerr asked.

“Short answer—Beelzebub’s bitch.” Oliver snuggled closer to Ammy and laid his head on her feet. “Amethyst’s mother micro-managed Amethyst’s social life for years and arranged all her daughter’s dates, including the ones who eventually became Amethyst’s sex partners. The bitch threw every metro-sexual fuckwit douchebag warlock with money and prestige she could dig up at Amethyst. Mumsy is a species bigot, and, you, my boy are not the bitch’s idea of perfect son-in-law material.”

“Mumsy can suck my big dick.” Kerr frowned. “Why would Ammy put up with that?”

“Our witch was under the mistaken belief it would make her bitch-mother love her. After a lot of miserable dates and lousy sex, Amethyst finally realized she was wrong.”

Some people should never have children. Obviously, Ammy’s mother was one of those.

“Okay, so Ammy dated a bunch of losers to please her mom. What did the bastards do that caused Ammy to mistrust men?” They’d be dead bastards if he ever happened across any of them. And it didn’t matter that the asshats hadn’t known Ammy was meant for Kerr, killing them would make him feel better. “Sex is sex, even bad sex—unless they were into some sort of sick kink.”

Kerr didn’t even want to think about someone hurting Ammy badly enough that she feared sex.

Oliver issued a disgusted mew. “No, the majority of them weren’t into sick shit. Mostly they were immature, stupid, selfish twats, caring more for their own pleasure than Ammy’s. I don’t think our girl would know an orgasm if it jumped up and bit her on the nose.”

“Majority of them?” Kerr didn’t like the sound of that qualification. “What happened with the others?

“There was only one.” Oliver’s expression darkened and his ears flattened. “That one tried to rape her.”

Kerr bared his teeth and sprouted claws in a partial shift. He’d shred the fucker who’d dared to attack his witch.

Reining in his rage, Kerr stroked a curl off Ammy’s cheek with the back of a clawed finger. “So, who was her attacker? Baba Yaga said Ammy has strong defensive magic, so how did the asshat get close enough to even try?”

“Arsehat’s name is Reginald Wolverstone.” Oliver stared at Kerr. “Our witch was blind-sided. She underestimated old Reggie-boy—and that was highly unusual. While she might be naive when it comes to intimate personal relationships, she’s highly knowledgeable and experienced when it comes to magical power, especially dark magical power—something she works with on ancient, warded artifacts on a daily basis. My only conclusion—one Amethyst might not admit out loud, but also believes—is that her bitch-mother placed a glamour on the rat-arsed fuckwit to fool her daughter into thinking he was harmless and then provided him dark magic spells to get through Amethyst’s defensive wards and repel her protection spells.”

“You said tried to rape her, but did he … hurt her?” asked Kerr.

“He roughed her up some, tore her clothes … terrified her.” Growling, tail up and at full fluff, Ammy’s familiar paced up and down the bed. “She managed to scream for help before the arsehole cast a paralyzation spell on her. Mildred kept the servants from responding. I managed to escape the closet the bitch locked me into and attacked the fuckwit—bit his ear lobe off. Broke his focus on whatever spell he used. That freed Ammy to blast him. Then we got the hell out of there. She moved out of the family home the next day.”

“Why would Ammy’s mother set up her child to be raped?” Kerr couldn’t wrap his brain around the concept. “I can see a mother pushing her favored candidates at a daughter, but to aid and abet rape? That’s sick.”

“Mildred’s middle name is sick.” Oliver hissed. “Beelzebub’s bitch has never appreciated either of her daughters.”

“Why?” Kerr retracted his claws and then gently traced Ammy’s rose bud lips with a single fingertip. She gave a cute little snuffle-snort. The sound and touch of her breath on his finger dampened his rage and made him smile.

“Rabid jealousy.” Oliver curled near Ammy’s shoulder. “Mildred Earline St. John cannot handle competition. She despised the attention her husband paid to their daughters. I think Mildred booby-trapped the spell that killed her husband, but I can’t prove it. Once her husband was dead, the soulless bitch made her daughters’ lives hell on earth. The other daughter, Gloriana, married a pussy named Percival Smythe to please Mumsy. At least, the union got Gloriana away from her mother’s evilness. But that left Amethyst to bear the brunt of Mildred’s sick envy. After Amethyst brushed off the crop of metro-douchebags, Beelzebub’s bitch aimed Reggie-boy at Amethyst and loaded the deck in the bastard’s favor.”

Oliver sighed and rubbed his cheek against Ammy’s shoulder. “So … you see my point. Our witch has no reason to trust the male of the species. You’ll definitely need to ease her into mating.”

“Understood,” Kerr said. “But the connection’s there, and that can’t be changed. You understand that, right?”

“I do,” Oliver replied. “All I want from you is a promise to treat her gently.”

Kerr nodded. “I’m not some ham-handed rube. I’ll never hurt her. I’ll never allow anyone else to hurt her. I’ll also never leave her unprotected. She’ll be the center of my universe until we cross to the Next Adventure.”

It would be difficult not to claim her right away, but he’d control his instincts to complete the bond … for Ammy’s sake.

“I’ll help move her along toward acceptance as much as I can,” promised Oliver.

A noise outside the window had Oliver leaping from the bed to the windowsill. “Looks like some clothing out here. It smells like you and also like wet dog.”

“I asked Mac to bring me something to wear.” Kerr moved to the window and pulled his clothes off the bushes outside Ammy’s window.

As Kerr pulled on his jeans over his bare ass, he asked, “So … do you think Ammy has any clue as to what’s really going on between her and me?”

Oliver jumped from the sill back onto the bed and then faced Kerr. “She overheard you and Mac last night. She knows you’re in the process of mating, though she’s not sure about what all that entails.”

“Damn it, that’s not the way I wanted her to find out. I’d planned to explain matters to her today. Has she said anything about the mating to you?” Kerr asked.

Oliver chuckled. “You could say that. She was ready to transport home last night as soon as she realized what was going on.”

Kerr swallowed hard, panic threatening to choke him. “What stopped her?”

“You have Baba Yaga to thank for that.”

“How so?” Kerr asked, his gaze fixed on Ammy’s face, a face he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.

“The old witch slapped a sleep spell on her which is why our witch hasn’t woken up and pitched a repelling spell at either of our arses yet.” Oliver stared unblinkingly at Kerr. “You need to understand something about Amethyst.”

“What?”

Oliver blinked slowly. “She isn’t used to making snap decisions on important issues. So be patient. Good news is, your connection is strong. She’ll feel that and come around eventually.”

“Did you forget the randy assholes I told you about? If I don’t fully mate her in the next day or so, I’ll be fighting territorial battles over her all the damn time. The single males around here could care less that she and I are Goddess-blessed mates. They’ll just see a fertile woman with strong magic—that’s like crack to male Shifters.”

Kerr touched Ammy’s mind with his—that ability alone proved the strength of their mate-bond—and found her soundly asleep and dreaming of him catching her and making love to her. His lips twisted into a satisfied smile. Her unconscious mind had already accepted him which should make his pursuit easier on the conscious level.

“Heads up. Male feline bonding time is over for the morning.” Baba Yaga’s voice preceded her appearance in the room. “By the way, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Reggie the Wanna-Be-Rapist did use dark magic on our Amethyst. Really bad juju. Old Milly gave the weasel-faced turd some of Amethyst’s nail clippings and hair. He created a poppet and then used the blood from a homeless person he killed—” Her eyes held flames as she looked at Kerr. “Don’t ask me how I know, I have my ways. He, with Millificent’s help, crafted the black magic spells which weakened and infiltrated Amethyst’s normally titanium-strength wards and caused her repelling spell to fail.”

“Weaken and infiltrate like a bad virus?” Kerr asked.

“Precisely.” Baba Yaga smiled fondly at Ammy’s sleeping form. “But Amethyst’s shields will have adapted. It’s part of her unique magic and what makes her one of the strongest magical artifacts curators in the world. He won’t slip that particular spell by them again, that hoo-doo voodoo ship has sailed.” She turned to look at Kerr and Oliver. “Now, go away, cats. I’m going to remove the sleep spell. It’s time for your witch to rise and shine.”

Kerr turned to join Oliver as the familiar padded into the upper hall, then thought to ask, “If Ammy has strong defensive wards and can build up resistance to invasive spells, why did your sleep spell work so well on her?”

Baba Yaga eyed him as if he were a few shingles short of a roof, then gave him a smile that sent shivers up and down his spine—and not in a good way. “Because, in case you missed the memo, I’m the strongest mo-fo witch in the world.”

Good. Between the scarier-than-shit witch who seemed overly attached to Ammy, one hyper-vigilant familiar, plus himself—Ammy should be well protected.

As Baba Yaga began to mutter a spell over Ammy, a shriek and several horrified shouts came from downstairs.

“Are you fricking kidding me?” a voice sounding a lot like Zelda’s cried.

“Someone stole Merlin’s freaking Foreskin,” Fabio yelled.

Then a multitude of other voices chimed in with various levels of concern, excitement, and outright disbelief.

Kerr came down on the side of skepticism and looked at Baba Yaga. “How in the hell did someone get in and take the artifact? You were around. Mac and I were both here. The house is warded with Zelda’s magic.”

Baba Yaga halted her spell casting. “Um, Fabio and I had date night … in Paris … France, not Kentucky. Plus, you should know any wards on the house would still allow the locals in since Zelda and Mac are on call, day and night, for healing and other shit. I have no effing clue why you and Mac didn’t sense anyone.”

Shit, she had a point. The house wards only kept strangers out. So, if the artifact was missing, someone local had taken it. The idea burned his butt.

Baba Yaga fluttered her scary-long, sharp nails at him. “Go. Sniff around. Track. Investigate. That’s your job, right?”

“Right,” he muttered, sending her a glare. “I’ll just do that little ol’ thing,” he drawled, then turned and stalked out of the bedroom only to be halted by Baba Yaga’s gloating tone of voice.

“Kerr Montgomery, you’re the perfect man for the job at hand. Be sure not to start investigating without Amethyst, though. You’ll need her magic to help locate the artifact.”

Kerr frowned. His shit detector went on high alert. The crafty old witch was hiding something. He would’ve turned and confronted her right then and there, but the noises from downstairs had increased in volume. The atmosphere in the house had gone to Def Con 2, if Mac’s snarls were any indication.

Kerr descended the stairs with Oliver on his heels. As they approached the main level, Oliver inhaled loudly, then hissed. “Reggie-boy is here. I’d recognize his foul odor anywhere.” The familiar sniffed the air again. “Beelzebub’s bitch is here also.”

The cat eyed Kerr. “Their presence could explain the evil our witch sensed on the night air.”

“Yeah.” Every instinct Kerr possessed urged him to—“It’s killing time.”

Oliver sank his teeth into the hem of Kerr’s jeans before Kerr could leap and make good on his words. Then Ammy’s familiar let go and muttered, “Killing Reggie-boy would be nice. I’m one hundred percent on board with that goal. But you need to wait … be smart about it.” Oliver twined his way around Kerr’s legs. “We’ll do him in later, when there aren’t so many witnesses.”

“Good idea.” Kerr took the last several steps in one leap, landing lightly on the first floor, and proceeded to muscle his way through the small crowd which had gathered in Zelda and Mac’s main entry. He then entered the huge great room where the drama was in progress.

Zelda, with an outraged and hyper-protective Mac backing her up, confronted an over-dressed-for-Assjacket woman who had to be Ammy’s evil bitch of a mother. Standing next to her was a stick-up-his-butt male who could be the poster boy for Metrosexual Warlock Monthly: Not a single hair out of place. Every piece of clothing cost more than Kerr’s tricked-out 4x4 Dodge Ram—and his truck hadn’t been cheap. The pretty boy had more cosmetic surgery than any aging socialite grasping for her lost youth by tooth and nail.

“Is the fucker wearing eyeliner and mascara?” Kerr asked.

“He is.” Oliver leaned against Kerr’s legs.

“Gawd. I think I’m gonna be sick,” Kerr muttered.

“Told you he was a twat-faced, rat-arsed, little-dicked bastard.” Oliver glared at Ammy’s soon-to-be-dead-and-buried-deep-in-an-abandoned-coal-mine wanna-be-rapist. “Kerr, forget what I said about easing our witch into mating. Claim her fast and hard. We can’t take any chances with Beelzebub’s bitch in the area.”

“Totally on board with that plan, buddy. Let’s get a handle on the current situation, first.” Kerr pushed through the crowd and joined Mac who stood protectively behind Zelda. “What’s going on?”

Mac turned his head toward Kerr. “Merlin’s Foreskin is missing. Amethyst’s mother and this guy claiming to be Amethyst’s fiancé came in just as Zelda and Fabio discovered the theft. The locals began lining up at dawn to consult with Ammy about the artifact and have been over-reacting ever since the theft was discovered. Every blasted one of them is upsetting my mate and souring the twins’ milk—and I’m not having that.”

Mac roared out the last words.

His shout silenced the room, but for the prissy-faced rat bastard who sputtered like a badly tuned motor. “Where is my betrothed?”

Make that a condescending, badly tuned motor.

While Kerr would feel a helluva lot better stomping the prancing pissant into paste, Oliver had been one hundred percent correct—there were far too many witnesses.

So, Kerr began as he meant to proceed. “Ammy will be down in a second once she’s decent and fit for mixed company. All this noise woke me and my mate up.”

Mac murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “Thought you were going to go slow?”

Kerr turned to Mac and muttered, “Work with me here.”

Mac inclined his head, a smirk twisting his lips.

“Decent? Ammy? Mate?” Amethyst’s mother’s voice increased in volume with each word. She eyed Kerr down her long, pointy nose.

Ammy must’ve gotten her cute tilt-tipped nose from her father’s side of the family. He saw nothing of this harpy in his little witch. Thank the Blessed Goddess.

“Are you speaking of my daughter” —she looked him up and down, narrowed her eyes, then spat out— “cat?”

“Mildred?” Ammy entered the room and immediately moved to Kerr’s side.

Kerr was pleased as all get out with Ammy’s instinct to come to him, but also pissed that the gesture was instigated by the fear tainting her sweet musk—fear of her mother and the rat bastard. He placed an arm around her waist and pulled her snugly against his side. She sighed and leaned into him. Her trust in him to defend and protect her satisfied every primal instinct in him. He purred.

“Reginald?” While Ammy’s face was ash-white and she trembled against Kerr, her voice was steady. “What are you two doing here?”

“To bring you home, of course,” the rat bastard said.

Kerr’s purr turned into a low growl aimed at the unwelcome visitors who’d dared to upset his sweet little witch. “Excuse us, for a second,” he led Ammy through the crowd of locals and into the entryway.

“Ammy, look at me,” he murmured in a tone that carried no further than the two of them. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“I know.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

He let out a sigh of relief. “I told them you’re my mate.”

Ammy inhaled sharply. “Why would you do that?”

Kerr recalled what Oliver had said earlier—Ammy needed to approach things logically. So—“The rat bastard told everyone he’s your fiancé. But he can’t be if you’re my mate, right?”

Ammy hesitated for a second or two. Kerr swore his heart stopped as she considered his words, considered the ramifications of playing along.

Then she nodded. “But I’m not promising anything after they’re gone.”

His heart resumed beating. He’d worry about later … later.

“I’m scared … of this connection with you.” A frown creased her forehead.

Kerr couldn’t resist soothing away the furrows with his lips. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise.”

Ammy snorted delicately and opened her mouth. Shouts and scuffling behind them indicated their private conversation would soon become public.

Since Kerr figured her next words would be all-too-revealing for whoever approached, he took control of her mouth and kissed her until she trembled in his arms.

“Amethyst, why are you kissing that man?” Reggie the Rat Bastard asked.

We’ll talk about “this connection”… later. Kerr mind-spoke. After you and I have found the missing artifact.

Yes, we will, Ammy retorted, shocking Kerr that their connection had progressed to mutual mind-talk so quickly—even more proof that they were soul mates.

He released her lips. Taking her hand, he led her past the gaping rat bastard and Ammy’s frowning mother, through the locals who gave way at his approach, and back into the great room where Zelda, Mac, and Fabio still stood.

Ammy looked up at him, her violet eyes flashing like gemstones and muttered under her breath, “I have lots of questions.” Such as how we can mind-talk so easily.

He squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll find the answers together.”

She nodded, then turned into his torso, grasped his shirt with both hands, and tugged. “Kerr?” she whispered, her tone fearful.

Ignoring the crowd’s curious stares and the increasingly indignant sounds coming from Ammy’s mother and the rat bastard as they were held back by locals, he leaned down. “What, darlin’? What’s troubling you?”

“Reginald … um, he—” She shuddered. A single tear traveled down her cheek. “I couldn’t—”

Kerr captured the tear with his lips. He touched her mind and found rapidly flashing images of the attack. The memories of her fear and helplessness shredded his soul. Every instinct urged him to shift and tear out the throat of the man who’d terrorized Ammy, but he tamped down his primal need … for now. Later, the fucker would pay.

“Shh, Ammy. It wasn’t your fault. You’re safe here.” With me.

Ammy nodded, took a deep breath, and then looked toward the mantle. “So … is the artifact really missing?”

Kerr accepted the change in subject. “Appears to be. Baba Yaga said your magic could aid my investigation. We’ll be partners.” He grinned. “You can be Scully to my Mulder.”

“Or you can be Dr. Watson to my Sherlock,” she retorted as she slowly scanned the room, using her magic.

Her energy feathered over his body like hundreds of gently massaging fingers. His unruly dick, which had finally subsided to half-mast after the torturous night he spent on Ammy’s bed, went fully erect once more.

Ammy, more attuned to him than she’d likely admit, looked down and gasped. Then she looked up. Her expression indicated she was intrigued, but also a bit leery.

“My seeking magic has never done that before.” She pulled back on her power, but the lingering effects still stimulated every cell of his being.

“Ignore it. I am.” Barely.

“O-o-kay.” Then she muttered sotto voce, “Sort of hard to ignore something that big, though.”

Kerr choked back a laugh. He was fairly certain she wasn’t trying to be funny.

Ammy pinched his side. “Behave.” Her forehead creased, she said, “Kerr, I don’t sense the artifact, but that just means it isn’t close.”

“Okay, we’ll question—”

“Amethyst Sophia St. John, stop ignoring me and Reginald.” Ammy’s mother—forever to be known in Kerr’s mind as the Harpy since she acted and sounded like one—approached them, with Reggie the Rat Bastard following in her wake. “Who is this … creature?”

Creature? Kerr snarled and bared his teeth.

Several of the locals inhaled sharply and moved farther away, distancing themselves from the potential battle royal. They’d heard that particular snarl before—usually before Kerr ripped and tore something apart.

Ammy petted his chest and murmured, “Shh.” She also clutched his belt at the small of his back.

Kerr snorted. As if her dainty little self could hold him back. She was just too cute. He allowed himself to be restrained—for now—but couldn’t hold back his growl of warning at the unwanted guests. “I’m her Goddess-blessed mate, Kerr Montgomery, Chief Investigator for the Town of Assjacket.” He gathered Ammy closer and nuzzled her hair. She smelled like him, and every Shifter in the room could verify it, if asked. Thank the Goddess, he’d so thoroughly scent-marked her this morning. “And, if we’re so blessed, the father of your grandchildren in nine or so months. Twins run in my family.”

“Twins?” Ammy looked up, shock on her face. “Really?” she squeaked.

“Uh-huh. Sometimes there can be triplets, but that’s really rare.” Kerr kissed Ammy’s suddenly blush-warmed cheek. “I want a litter of little girls who look just like their momma.”

Ammy shuddered against him. He looked down, worried she was freaking out. Then he realized she wasn’t scared, but trying to contain her laughter. She thought he was teasing. His lips twisted in a slight smile. He wasn’t. He had plans to make those babies a reality—sooner rather than later.

“Amethyst,” Reggie the Rat Bastard sputtered. “You were promised to me.”

Kerr rumbled, and his claws erupted in a partial shift.

“Kerr,” Mac muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.” Then his friend moved around him and took a big sniff of Ammy’s shoulder.

Kerr chuffed a warning. “Back off, buddy, or lose your nose.”

Mac grinned and shook his head, then turned toward the rat bastard. “Kerr’s scent is all over Ammy. You lose, man.” He smiled at the Harpy. “Congrats, Miz St. John. You’ve gained a fine son-in-law, and Ammy will be a welcome addition to the Assjacket community.”

Then Mac added, just for shits-and-giggles ’cause that was how the wolf rolled, “Twin Shifter babies are a double-blessing from the Goddess. Zelda and I have twins—Audrey and Henry.”

“Double-blessing?” Zelda huffed. “Easy for you to say, babe. I get stuck with all the diaper duty … twice over.” She turned to address the obviously appalled Harpy and the glowering Reggie the Rat Bastard. “Trust me, that’s a lot of pee and poop. But bodily functions aside, yeah, I love my babies … well, maybe not so much when they go all four-legged and chew on my Jimmy Choos. But no problemo since my dad just replaces them—the shoes, not the babies.”

“Amethyst, what have you done?” The Harpy screamed, her talon-fingered hands fisted at her sides.

Ammy turned her face up toward Kerr’s. “Got mated? Isn’t that right, luv?”

“Exactly, darlin’.” Kerr, not one to miss any opportunities to deepen the connection between them, cradled the back of Ammy’s head in one hand, the silky black curls tangled in his fingers. Then he leaned down and kissed his little witch.

And this time, she kissed him back—with tongue.