Hex and the City Read online

  That sounded like a challenge. “Let go of me, and I will.”

  He laughed, the sound wicked. It wasn’t quite a cartoon’s mwah-ha-ha laugh, but it was close.

  I tried to punch him harder, but it wasn’t a very good angle. “I thought everything was going to be different once we acknowledged our feelings for each other. I thought you were going to start treating me like an equal and being nice to me.” I tried to hit him again, but he moved out of my reach. He didn’t let me up either, the jerk. “I wanted a nice evening. You said you were going to give me a nice date.”

  “Nice?” he asked. “Was it nice that someone gave you a flammable dress soaked in formaldehyde? Was it nice that someone most likely forced your roommate to hex your shoes so she would get the blame? That someone has been spying on you and knew not only that you were going on a date, but very likely where I would be taking you and what might match the theme of our date? You wouldn’t have to learn wards or spells of protection if your other secret admirer was nice.”

  I tried to twist away from him. “Let me get up.”

  “Toughen up. Pain is your teacher. Get used to it.” He rubbed a hand over the back of my leg. The lancing fire of the burns jolted up my nerves and sank deep into my core. I whimpered.

  I hated the feeling of being weak and helpless. It reminded me too much of the time with Julian and how he’d tried to force himself on me. It made me think of Derrick and how he’d strangled me and killed me. I couldn’t defend myself while I was in pain, and Thatch wasn’t listening now that he was in demented-teacher mode. My fear of pain and hopelessness at my own impotence fizzled into frustration.

  Blood pounded in my ears. It took a second to realize someone rapped at the door.

  “Perdón. Señorita?” a man called out.

  Thatch released me and strolled toward the door. He yanked it open an inch. I slid back off the bed and refastened the towel around myself more modestly. I glared at Thatch’s back, hoping the venom in my gaze might burn him. He could be so arrogant and self-righteous. When it came to magic, he wasn’t any kinder to me than he had been before we’d started dating.

  “Lo siento. Cucaracha,” Thatch said. He glanced over his shoulder at me, a wicked grin on his face.

  He and the hotel employee exchanged a few more words. I touched the necklace at my throat, thinking of Elric. The amulet had reappeared sometime after my spontaneous combustion. Elric had been patient teaching me magic. He would never have held me down and used pain magic on me for my own good. He had told me to call him if Thatch ever tried to use pain magic on me.

  Elric would come if I called him. I could ask him about the dress and the shoes and to help me find who was trying to hurt me. I could ask him to heal my burns or to take me home. But I also knew what it would cost me if I called him. I would be one step closer to losing my soul.

  Thatch wasn’t likely to forgive me for it.

  Thatch closed the door. He leaned against it, eyeing the necklace. “Go ahead. Call your Fae lover here. See if he’ll come. That’s what he wanted tonight, for you to need him so he could rescue you.”

  I gestured to my legs. “Elric didn’t do this.”

  “No, but perhaps he coerced Vega to do it. Perhaps he has convinced another Fae to hurt you in order to drive you back to him.”

  “That’s just crazy talk.” He was jealous of Elric. When would it ever end between the two of them?

  I removed my hand from the amulet. He stepped closer. I scrambled back toward the desk. “No. Stay away from me. You don’t need any more of my pain, and I don’t want another ‘pain is my teacher lesson.’”

  His eyes narrowed, his patience as brittle as ice about to crack. He stayed where he was at least.

  “I need my affinity to be recharged too,” I said. “I can heal myself with my affinity.”

  His eyes were dark, his smile amused. “Be my guest. Heal yourself if you think you know how.” He sat on the bed, leaning back on his elbows in a lascivious pose that left no doubt to what he insinuated.

  I hated it when he figured things out before I did, which was pretty much always. Using pleasure magic meant I had to kiss him. Or for him to touch me. Right now he was the last person on Earth I wanted to kiss.

  A small part of me, the evil self that had wicked thoughts, wanted to call Elric just to spite Thatch. Not to use him for his magic, but to kiss him and make my magic work. But calling Elric at all would result in the same price as asking him for a favor. Fae gifts weren’t anything to laugh at.

  And what if Thatch was right? I didn’t know what I would do if Elric had been the one to give me the dress, and then I was stuck this far from school with him.

  Thatch waited, nostrils flaring. “Heal yourself. Use your affinity.” His smile was cruel. “I’m waiting.”

  I swallowed. The idea of touching him felt icky.

  One side of his mouth lifted into an imitation of a smile. “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

  “How inconvenient. You do realize you don’t need to rely on arousal for my magic to work? I don’t need to rely on anyone.”

  I edged farther back, afraid I knew where this was going.

  He lifted his jacket from the bed and shook it out. “You don’t need me to make your affinity work. You don’t need anyone.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves and stood.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, half in relief, half in fear.

  “I’m going to take a turn about the grounds and construct wards. You can stay here. You have work to do.” He strolled out the door. The lock turned, and the deadbolt clicked into place, though I hadn’t seen a key if he had one. Magic, no doubt.

  Craptacular.

  As I sat down, the sheets of the bed grated against the raw flesh on the backs of my legs. I rolled over onto my side. My face rested against silky petals. Usually I liked the smell of roses, but tonight the smell was a reminder of my failed romance.

  The first thing I had to do was soothe the pain. It took some effort to concentrate when all my brain wanted to think about was what a sadist Thatch could be. Just once I wanted him to hold me and kiss my cheek and tell me everything would be okay, that he would make everything better in a normal, not creepy magical way.

  I pushed thoughts of our relationship aside and focused on my affinity. I sent my awareness over my body and soothed my overstimulated nerves using the techniques Thatch had taught me. I found other areas I’d been burned but had been too distracted by the intensity of my greater injuries to notice. My forearms were red and swollen, and I had two broken blisters lower on my legs.

  I tried imagining my skin mending and scabbing over, but every time I opened my eyes, I saw that nothing had happened. For half an hour, I worked at it. Still nothing happened. It shouldn’t have been so difficult. Thatch had shown me how to heal myself after I’d burned myself once before. Of course, he’d been there with me, walking me through it and sparking my affinity by touching me.

  I tried to think of arousing thoughts to see if that made a difference. He’d given me a competency supplement. Didn’t that give me the skills to do anything? Apparently not. It was difficult to think of sex when my mood was so black. My sexuality wasn’t my most accomplished skill.

  I decided to try self-pleasure next. I pushed as many rose petals onto the floor as I could to get the smell away from me. Fluffing and rearranging the pillows to create a comfortable cushion behind me to lean against took another five minutes.

  I was delaying, and I knew it.

  I closed my eyes and stroked myself between the legs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t like when someone else touched me. If anything, it was kind of boring. My leg muscles ached from dancing. Fatigue tugged at my frame. The moment I started to fall asleep, the pain returned in full. I focused my attention on diminishing the pain. That made me sleepy, and I jolted awake at the new ebb of pain.

  The moment the loc
k turned in the door and the handle rattled, I jumped to my feet and readjusted the towel. I retreated to the corner. Thatch strode in, setting a brown paper shopping bag on the desk beside me. He removed two large bottled waters and set them on the desk.

  His gaze roved over my legs. “You couldn’t figure out how to do it, could you?”

  He couldn’t see the backs of my legs, though he probably could feel the pain, even with the way I managed to mask most of it from my own consciousness. I slid away along the wall, bumping my hip into the television cabinet.

  I considered lying, but ultimately, I was too stubborn. I lifted my chin. “You want me to admit I was wrong and that I should have let you take away the pain with your affinity. You want me to beg for your superior knowledge and techniques. Well, I’m not going to.”

  He plopped onto the bed and kicked off his shoes. “I would never expect you to beg. It would be undignified. Nor would I ask anyone as headstrong and prideful as yourself to admit defeat. Knowing you, I’d sooner find you suffering in silence rather than asking for my help. You can be one part charming and two parts aggravating.” He nudged one of the waters on the desk closer to me. He drank the other.

  I licked my lips. They were dry, and I was thirsty. I hadn’t noticed the stickiness in my mouth in my attempts to mask all the pain in my body. I wondered if the water was supposed to be a peace offering. He glanced at my water again. It would have been smart for me to drink it. I was probably dehydrated. People with burns were supposed to need more hydration.

  He didn’t say anything. If he had, I probably wouldn’t have broken the seal and guzzled it down.

  When I was done, I lobbed it back into the paper bag with perfect accuracy. Not that it was hard. I was only four feet away.

  Thatch threw his and missed. Considering he sat on the bed and the bag was a foot away, it was pretty ridiculous.

  I giggled. “Were you trying to miss on purpose?”

  “I’m not a juggler like you.” He smiled. The mood felt lighter. He should have left things there, but he had to open his mouth again. “Come here.”

  My smile faded. “No. I told you before I didn’t want your pain magic, and I meant it. If you do that to me again, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “No more pain magic from me tonight.” He put his hands up in the air, a small smile on his face, as if he was my willing hostage.

  He was being too solicitous compared to his normal self. That only made me warier. “I don’t believe you.” I couldn’t see the color of his eyes from where I was.

  “Good for you. You should always be on your guard. I taught you that.” He patted the bed. “I’ll show you how to use your affinity to heal yourself.” When I made no move toward him, he held out his hand to me. “I won’t hurt you this time.”

  Not this time, but what about next time?

  I scooted out of his reach. “You said you wouldn’t use my affinity to control me. I do not consent to you using your affinity against me either.”

  He dropped his hand, sorrow flickering across his face before smoothing out into his usual expressionless calm. He tilted his head to the side and studied me. His foot tapped out a beat against the floor with nervous energy. It looked like his supplement was still working for him. “This is about Derrick, isn’t it? Tonight reminded you of him? I should have seen that earlier.” He stood.

  I flinched back.

  That wounded look crossed his face again. “I deserve that.”

  I felt bad when I saw how hurt he was. I knew he wasn’t like Derrick. He wasn’t under the Raven Queen’s control to hurt me. He wouldn’t force himself on me like Julian had. He wasn’t a Fae intending to use me to sire his heirs.

  Thatch slid the chair from the desk to face the bed and reseated himself in the chair. “I’ll walk you through healing yourself. We can practice blocking pain on a smaller scale. Tonight, I’ll be nice.” He said it like the word tasted bad. “I’m not going to touch you. I promise.” He glanced down at the floor, and in that moment, I saw something I rarely saw in him: remorse.

  His eyes met mine, and he swallowed.

  My anger melted away. I didn’t want to fight with him. I didn’t move fast enough, though.

  “Must I completely humiliate myself to get back in your good graces?” he asked. He dropped to his knees before me and clasped his hands in an overdramatic prayer. “I grovel on the ground before you, supplicating as your humble slave to do with as you please. Punish me for my offenses as you see fit, but whatever you do, I beg of you, don’t make yourself suffer on account of my social ineptness.” His voice rose in mock shame.

  I rolled my eyes and strode to the bed. “You had me at the word ‘nice.’”

  I plopped down on the bed as far from him as possible. He lifted himself from the floor and leaned back against the desk. “Lie down on your stomach so you don’t brush your burns against the bed.”

  I did so, my stomach churning in nervousness all the while. He wasn’t going to hurt me, I told myself. He’d promised. I could trust him. He’d never intentionally harmed me, except for my feelings, and that was a more complicated situation.

  “Close your eyes and sink into your affinity. Regulate your body and diminish the pain. Think of someone comforting. Obviously not me. Your fairy godmother perhaps, Mrs. Lawrence? Imagine what it feels like when she hugs you, her warmth wrapping around you and making you feel safe.”

  There were so many times she had made me feel as though nothing could ever harm me.

  “Remember a time she held you and her love surrounded you. Let that happy feeling radiate from your core. Feel it traveling down your channels and into your legs. Infuse your muscles and your skin with that joy and tenderness. Let it wash and cleanse over you, removing anything that shouldn’t be there.” He went on, walking me through the steps. When I opened my eyes and glanced back at my legs, I saw the burns were no longer raw and oozing. Some of them had started to scab over.

  “No peeking,” Thatch said. “Keep visualizing. This time without my instructions.”

  It took half an hour. By then, my restless leg syndrome had gone away. My skin was pink and shiny. I yawned.

  He sat down on the bed next to me. “You can try again tomorrow.” He smoothed a hand over the towel covering my back before yanking his hand away. He acted as though he’d been burned. I stared at his hand, wondering if I had shocked him. I had accidentally jolted electricity into my temporary dance partner earlier.

  Thatch folded his hands in front of him. “Pardon me. I forgot I said I wouldn’t touch you.”

  I placed my hand over his and patted it. He’d redeemed himself by not holding me down and ripping my skin off. I yawned again.

  He squeezed my hand. “We’re both tired. Do you want to stay here tonight, or do you want me to take you back to the school? I think I’m strong enough.”

  He sounded doubtful.

  I glanced at the rose petals I’d flicked off the bed and the ambient golden glow he’d gone to the trouble of setting up to make this a romantic evening. This wasn’t how I had imagined the evening would end.

  I wasn’t sure which was safer, here in the Morty Realm with wards and electricity or at the school with wards and other Witchkin.

  “You don’t have to try to spare my feelings. I understand if you want to be alone. I can escort you to your room at Womby’s.” He cleared his throat. “If you are willing to stay here, I will fulfill your request to snuggle with you until you fall asleep.”

  “I’m tired.” I could have fallen asleep right then. It probably wasn’t even my bedtime at home.

  “So am I,” he said.

  “I just want to sleep. I don’t want to do anything besides cuddle.”

  He pushed the rest of the rose petals onto the floor. “Dinner, dancing, and cuddling—it’s everything you asked for.”

  “And more,” I snorted.

  “I bet Elric never gave you a date like this.”


  “That’s for sure.”

  He undressed down to his underwear, folding up his clothes and placing them on the desk. He hooked a finger under the edge of my towel. “What do you think about switching this for something more practical?” He held out his white undershirt.

  I took it.

  We got ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. When I came out, he was throwing a bottle of water up into the air, trying to catch it. He missed, and it thudded onto the floor. Quickly, he picked it up, his cheeks momentarily flushing as though embarrassed I’d caught him being incompetent. I dropped into bed, my eyes burning with the need for sleep.

  He spooned up against me. “Thank you for being willing to cuddle with me.”

  “You just thanked me. Sounds like you owe me a favor.”

  “Probably.”

  I closed my eyes. “I just wanted a normal date. I didn’t think it would turn out like this tonight.”

  “You are Witchkin. Unlike most people, you don’t have the liberty of being normal. Even among Witchkin standards, there’s nothing average about you. I’m not going to sugarcoat this. People want to hurt you . . . to kill you. You aren’t going to always have someone around to protect you. If I die tomorrow without teaching you everything you need to know to keep you safe, I will have failed you.”

  I groaned in exasperation. He had to go on about teaching me again.

  After a long moment, I said, “This is my punishment, isn’t it? For wanting to go on a date. You wanted to teach me a lesson.”

  “No, it’s my punishment. You’re my penance for my past. I suspect that was why Jeb wanted me to mentor you.”

  He didn’t say it, but I suspected he meant a punishment for something related to Alouette Loraline. Maybe he meant leading his enemies to her. Jeb had been appointed by the Princess of Lies and Truth. He might have had a deeper agenda in making Thatch mentor me than to make him feel guilty and revive old wounds.

  Thatch had said he hadn’t said her name during sex, but I was less certain than before.

  He kissed my cheek. “Even now I don’t know how to go about mentoring you. I don’t have endless patience. I know I’m tactless and . . . grouchy. What’s that American word you call me? An Eeyore? My methods are different from your methods. I’m sure you can improve upon my lessons and mentor Imani with far more kindness than I mentor you.”