A slight tingle of energy rippled down her arms. Magic. She’d never seen a demon cast enchantment, so that meant one thing. Had she made a mistake with her earlier amplifying spell? Dread rocked her on her heels.
Gunn brushed past her, blade in hand. He slashed at the plants blocking their exit, but each cut was replaced by more.
“It’s not going to work,” she called out, wrapping her arms around her stomach, bile rising to the back of her throat.
She eyed the threads of mistletoe slithering along the ceiling, then she sprinted into the kitchen and carried back a chair. Gunn climbed up and cut the vines as he balanced on the seat. The plants he cut curled back outside the front door.
Cyra darted to the door and slammed it shut.
He hopped down, stuffing the knife into its sheath on his belt, and ran from one room to the next, checking the windows. His boots thumped the tiled floor as his breaths labored. She found Henry and his wife, no longer kissing, standing near the staircase in a daze.
And while Cyra wanted to stop and ask them if they were okay, she couldn’t find her voice. Instead, she switched on the light in the kitchen and grabbed the bowl with the contents from her spell. Her hands trembled as she peered inside, using her finger to move the wet contents about.
“What is that?” She pinched a black string-like object wrapped around the pinecone and pulled it out. It had tiny leaves and berries… charred black. Mistletoe? How had that gotten in there?
Ice clasped around her chest, because getting the slightest thing wrong in a spell could turn the simplest intention into apocalyptic disasters. She glanced out the kitchen window at the greenery blocking out any light. God, what had she done?
Gunn rushed into the room, gasping for air. “We’re literally prisoners in this house. Everything is blocked. What’s going on?”
Coldness filled Cyra. “When you ripped the pinecone off the wreath, you must have picked up some mistletoe.” She tossed the pinecone back into the bowl on the counter.
“And? You’re the spell caster. Why’d you put it into the concoction?” He folded his arms across his chest, and she couldn’t believe he’d just blamed this on her.
“This is your fault for distracting me with your stupid words about me not being a good enough witch.” But deep inside, her head screamed that this was her fault. She was the spell creator and being cautious came with the gig. The mistake was hers for not paying attention and for letting herself get distracted. Add the heated moment in the bathroom, and she’d doubly screwed up. If she had guarded Henry and Nora, stayed with them, she might have noticed the mistletoe taking over the house and gotten everyone out before it was too late. Instead, the mistletoe must have fogged her thoughts and turned her all horny.
Gunn cracked his neck. “Then do a counter-hex.”
His words irked her and, for the first time, she was seeing the real Gunn, the guy who spoke as if they were in a military foot drill and someone had appointed him sergeant. “Are you always so arrogant?” she asked.
“I’ve been called many things before, but that’s new.”
She forced a laugh, all for show. “Well, you are the epitome of rudeness, coming in here, bossing everyone around. And patronizing me.” She was trembling with anger at herself that she got this so wrong. The same fear and anger flared over Gunn’s face. They were so royally fucked.
A sly grin crawled across his lips, and Cyra anticipated his rude comeback, remembering her brother had once told her how Gunn had ripped into a gang leader for peddling drugs on his street corner. Apparently, no punches were used, just words, but the gangster had peed his pants. Now, whether that was true or an inflation of egos, which seemed a necessity to be a demon hunter at Argos, she didn’t care. She’d give as good as he gave.
Gunn studied her and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, slouching on one leg. Right there. He might appear like the perfect god-like specimen with his pose, muscles, and chiseled jawline. But he was the devil in disguise, and she had to remember that. There was a reason her brother had warned her to stay away from the hunters. None of them wanted to settle, and Gunn had a broken past after losing a girlfriend to a demon, and that had changed him. Or so Chase had said.
“Listen,” he said. “Let’s pick up this conversation later. Right now, all I care about is getting you and the old couple out of the house and keeping you all safe. Then, we can duel it out as to who’s the most arrogant. Deal?”
His words surprised her, and well, as much as she hated to admit it, she was going to take a page out of Gunn’s book and just focus on the damn problem at hand.
Gunn headed across the room and picked up the phone fixed on the wall. “Dead, of course.” He checked his cell, sighing. “No reception.”
She looked at her phone, to be sure there was no signal, and sighed. Nothing. The lights worked, but for how long?
She crossed the room just as Gunn passed her. But he halted inches from her, and every thought turned to mush. Their argument melted into a faint memory. His musky scent ravaged her, drawing her to him. Even her knees betrayed her as they shook. The sudden intensity was new… so much that it slightly terrified her.
Silence overwhelmed the kitchen and only her pounding pulse drummed in her ears. Fire consumed every part of her, and she squeezed her thighs together to heighten the growing pleasure. Her brain threatened to shut down, but her body had other ideas. She and Gunn locked eyes, and fire shot through her veins. The desire to have Gunn in every possible way owned her
