Chapter 6. Lochran
My shadow smoke pooled around me as I felt a softness beneath envelop my ass and thighs. A couch. The softest couch I’d ever sat on. As the smoke began to clear, I searched the room for my mate—my wonderful, kind mate who had finally decided to summon me.
Finally, I saw her.
I didn’t quite know what I’d been expecting. Perhaps someone glamorous, ready to be wined and dined by her new sex demon before having her brains fucked out. Or maybe even a witch in sexy lace lingerie, wanting to skip the meal part and get straight to the fucking.
What I hadn’t expected to see was a curvy, petite little witch in her slobbiest house clothes, russet hair in a messy bun with a few loose strands brushing over her shoulders.
Something pulsed in my neck, and my dick twitched.
Of all the images I’d ever conjured of my mate, dressed like we were about to spend the evening snuggled up and watching Netflix was my favorite.
I sucked in a deep breath and tried not to shiver in delight as the smell of pent-up desire filled the room. It was... unlike anything I’d ever smelled before. Words had not yet been invented that could describe the mouthwatering scent of my mate’s desire, but cozy, primal, and addictive came close. She smelled as sweet as Samhain spices, like she should be falling into my arms and resting her head against my chest just so I could bury my face into her messy bun and breathe in more of her scent. I could practically feel my treacherous stomach churn in anticipation of feasting on her.
I could easily imagine bending her over the kitchen table, pulling those sweatpants down and feeling my way into her oversized sweater with one hand, grasping that messy bun in the other, as I fucked her—
“Fuck!” she screamed at the ceiling.
“So soon? But you haven’t even asked me my name,” I said, determined for my voice to remain sultry. Confused, I was unsure what I’d done wrong in the split second I’d been here, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to let my mate see my insecurity. Maybe I wasn’t what she’d pictured? We appeared in our true forms to our mates, but maybe she was expecting someone more like Henry Cavill. The thought that my mate might not be attracted to me made an odd stabbing sensation in my gut. I unconsciously moved my head to the side, so she’d see less of the scar running across my scalp.
“Not you,” she growled, her brows furrowed in annoyance. “ This fucking house.”
Okay ...
“Look, why don’t you just go back to wherever you came from, while I find a match and some gas to burn this house to the ground,” she hissed. Her eyes narrowed, glaring from side to side before finally spying a box of matches on a side table. She lunged, but the moment her hands clasped around it, the little box disappeared, reappearing on the mantelpiece. She lunged again, her hands grasping around empty air as the matchbox appeared on the armrest beside me.
“Look, as entertaining as”—I waved my hands at her—“whatever this is, you summoned me, witch. And I can’t go back. We’re... mates.” I stumbled at the last word, my voice inflecting and making it sound like a question.
Perhaps it was a question. She didn’t seem to be quite as excited to meet me as I had been for her. Another glance at her and I realized that was an understatement. Her full lips were pursed, her thick, sculpted brows furrowed... yeah. My mate definitely wasn’t happy that I was here. So why had she summoned me?
“I didn’t summon you, demon,” she snapped, narrowed eyes searching for the matchbox. “And don’t use the M word.”
Taking a calming breath, I willed myself to play it cool. I’d waited too long for this moment to tap out without a fight. And I would fight for our mating bond, even if she wasn’t willing to.
I held up my hand in a defensive nature, certain she could hex me into oblivion given the mood she was in. “Okay. Well, if you didn’t summon me, then why am I here?”
She placed a hand on her hip, her sweater riding up ever so slightly to show the supple curve of her waist, the slight indent from the band of her underwear—shit, were those girl boxers? I tried my best to will my dick to stop twitching. This was clearly not the time or place to picture running my teeth over the elastic band as my fingers slid between—
“This treacherous house,” she said, her voice venomous enough to bring me back to reality, “tricked me into summoning you.”
“So, you did summon me... just not on purpose.” I stood up, unsure of what to do with myself. She didn’t want me here, but she had to know that I couldn’t go back to the shadow realm once I’d been summoned.
My mate let out a sigh, as if she’d just come to the realization that, for now anyway, she would be stuck with me.
“What’s your name?” she asked curtly.
“Lochran,” I answered, matching her tone. “You?”
It was a moment before she offered me her name. “Alexis. But you can call me Lex. Never Lexi.”
I took a step forward. Her oversized sweater fell from her shoulder, revealing skin that looked soft and inviting. A strand of loose, russet hair billowed out of the bun, cascading over her naked shoulder. Unconsciously, my hand reached out to brush it away—
“Ouch!” A sharp pain seared through the top of my hand, and I instinctively pulled it into my chest, rubbing the red welt furiously with my other hand.
The handle of a broom that wasn’t there a split second ago waved furiously at me from her side. I reckoned if I took another step, the magicked broom would undoubtedly beat me to within an inch of my life.
“Oh, now you want to be on my side?” she called to the house, swatting the broom away. The broom simply dodged each of her swats before dashing over to the corner and idly brushing the same spot in slow, laborious swirls.
“Look,” she said, pulling her narrowed gaze from the broom to look directly at me. “I know it’s not your fault this house summoned you. And I know you can’t go back now. But let’s get a few things straight. I didn’t want to summon you here. I have some very important things to do over the next few days, and then we can figure out what to do with you. Until then, there will be no touching of any kind, unless it’s a mutual decision.”
“What if you fall down a well and are unconscious? Can I touch you then to rescue you?”
She glared at me, though her attempt at annoyance didn’t settle fully on her features.
“You’re the one that wanted to discuss boundaries!” I chided.
Ignoring my comment, though with somewhat more softness to her tone, she continued, “We’ll be sleeping in separate rooms.”
“What, no sleepovers? But I wanted to braid your hair,” I said, my voice sultry. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I wasn’t usually a tit-for-tat kind of demon, but there was something about this witch that made me want to tat her tit . And if she didn’t want to be swept off her feet in an all-consuming romance with her fated mate, then I guessed friendship it would be. Friends-to-lovers was a romance trope, right?
Now I wished I’d paid more attention to Devlin when he gushed about his latest romance read .
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Let’s be clear. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Let’s just respect each other’s boundaries, and while we’re figuring out what to do...” She trailed off, and a moment later, said through gritted teeth, “We can get to know one another.”
Getting to know one another wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but it wasn’t an out-and-out rejection, which I guessed was something.
She looked at me, her brow raising in a did-you-get-all-that gesture.
“No M word. No touching. Separate rooms. Become besties.” I ticked each one off with a finger, and she rolled her eyes again. “So, if you didn’t summon me to give you the best orgasm of your life, what do you want to do?”
Her face softened, as if she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Finally, she said, “Want a cup of tea?”