Genevieve twisted to face her younger sister. “What are you doing in here?” she gasped out in surprise.
Glory brushed away the cheese dust on her lips. “Uh, spying. Hello. I say sleep with some other man and forget Hunter.”
Always the same advice. Genevieve eased slowly to her feet. “How would you like it if I cast a spell, bringing every one of those chips to life and letting them exact their revenge against you?”
Glory’s hazel eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, really? Keep talking, then, and by tomorrow morning the entire town will be talking about the Great Doritos Death.”
“Is that before or after they talk about Stalkerella and her unwilling victim?”
For several seconds, she and Glory glared at each other. Hunter was a sore spot for Genevieve; food was a sore spot for Glory.
Finally Glory expelled a deep breath, and her features slowly softened. “Evie, when are you going to realize Hunter will never want you the way you want him? He dates everything that moves and even some things that don’t. But not you. Never you. He just, well, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but he pities you.”
“He does not.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he desires me.”
“That’s delusion talking, and something every stalker says.”
“I’m not stalking him,” she said with a stubborn tilt of her chin, even though she herself had thought the very same thing. “I’m seducing him.”
Her sister rolled her eyes and popped another chip in her mouth. “That’s like saying murdering your neighbor is merely giving them a big send-off.”
“Girls, please.” Godiva, the oldest sister, strode into the room, her silver-white hair streaming behind her. She wore ripped jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, both of which were streaked with blood, dirt, and dark fur. “I’ve got an injured wolf in the kitchen and your arguing is upsetting him.”
“You brought an injured wolf into the house?” All traces of color abandoned Glory’s cheeks. “I can live with the squirrels and the wood mice, but a wolf? No way. They’re dangerous killers, Diva. They like to claw witches like us into bite-sized nibblets and feast on the pieces.”
“We have nothing to fear from him.” Godiva anchored her hands on her hips. “He’s too weak to cause us any harm.”
“Where is he?” Genevieve asked, trying to push Hunter—and Glory’s remarks—to the back of her mind. Her sister didn’t understand. How could she? She’d never been in love, never been consumed by the emotion. Never wanted more from a man than temporary satisfaction.
“He’s in the kitchen, and I could use your help.”
“Of course.” Following behind her older sister, Genevieve dragged a protesting Glory down the hall and into the kitchen.
Glory immediately flattened herself against the wall, surrounding herself with faux plant leaves, maintaining a safe distance from the large—very large—animal lying on the black and white tiled floor. As if she could hide with hair as vivid red as hers. Godiva bent over him, dabbing a steaming cloth over the jagged, bleeding claw wounds on his belly. He whimpered up at her, his eyes big and brown and glazed with pain.
Genevieve crouched beside her oldest sister. “What do you need me to do?”
They spent the next several hours murmuring peace spells, applying salve, and stitching the poor wolf’s wounds. He drifted in and out of sleep, but through it all he responded to Godiva’s every touch, recognizing her voice, her scent, and calming whenever she approached.
“He likes you,” Genevieve said.
“I think he recognizes me and feels safe. I’ve seen him before, in the forest. I was gathering herbs, and he was watching me.”
Genevieve wished Hunter responded to her half as much as this wolf responded to her sister. Since the day Hunter had saved her from gracing the dessert menu of a rabid gnome, she’d loved him.
She’d been seventeen years old at the time and he twenty-two, but she’d known she belonged with him. They’d even kissed that day, a delicious, mind-shattering kiss she’d never forgotten. Yes, she’d relived it in her dreams over and over again.
They were meant to be together, damn it. The way he sometimes treated her like a curse of hemorrhoids, no anti-itch cream in sight, had to stop! Did he think she meant to use him as a sexual toy then kick him out of her life? If so, he should love that. Did he think she meant to ruin their friendship? Well, she didn’t. She wanted to love him (hard core).
She would never, ever do anything to hurt him. Well . . . she bit her bottom lip. Fine. That wasn’t exactly true. Once she’d cast a seduction spell over him, hoping he would become sexually enthralled with the first woman he saw (which would have been her). Instead, she’d made nearly every woman in Mysteria, a town known for its weirdness, fall into instant lust with him. Even her sisters had been trapped under the spell. For days the entire female population had followed him everywhere, ripping at his clothes, begging him to make love to them.
“Even if the wolf saw you before,” Glory said, the sound of her voice breaking into Genevieve’s thoughts, “that’s not reason enough for him to respond so favorably to you. He acts like he adores you.” She frowned. “Hey, did you give him one of my love potions?”
“Of course not,” Godiva said. “I think he senses that I mean him no harm.”
At Glory’s words, a wonderfully frightening idea danced inside Genevieve’s mind, an idea she’d always discarded before—and no, she wasn’t going to injure Hunter to gain his attention (although she wouldn’t rule that out, the sexy bastard). What if she drank a love potion? What if she made herself so irresistible he wouldn’t think of turning her away? She’d never dared drink one before; there were simply too many uncertain variables.
For one night in his arms, though, she was now willing to risk it. Risk the deflation of her inhibitions, the danger of enticing the love of a legion of other men. The danger of loving him forever and him only loving her for a single night. Hell, she already loved him and she didn’t see an end in sight for the emotion. For Hunter, she’d risk anything. Everything. Except . . .
Genevieve uttered a sigh. Did she really want to win him because of a potion and not because he simply wanted her? Yes, she decided in the next instant. The stubborn man needed a push in the right direction, and she was tired of waiting for that to happen naturally. Her patience was frayed beyond repair.
Besides, if she had to watch him flirt and laugh with another woman one more time, just one more time, she’d fly into a rampage worthy of the Desdaine triplets, the town’s most notorious troublemakers.
Now that she had a plan, urgency rushed through her. She glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. Ten P.M. Knight Caps, Hunter’s bar, would be open for at least four more hours.
“Will you be okay on your own?” she asked Godiva.
“Hey, she’s not alone. I’m here,” Glory said with a pout.
“Oh, sorry. Will you be okay with Glory standing in the shadows and doing nothing?”
“I’ll be fine.” Godiva nodded. “Candy Cox should be here any minute. She’s going to sit with me.” Candy—oops, Candice—was the high school English teacher and Godiva’s best friend. “My big boy is finally resting peacefully. Why? Are you going out?”
“Yes.” She offered no other explanation. Neither of her sisters approved of her obsession with Hunter.
“Where are you going?” Glory asked suspiciously. She inched to the kitchen table, keeping the long length of the hand-carved mahogany between herself and the wolf.
“I’m. Going. Out.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She paused, then her pretty face scrunched in disgust. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”