Chapter 6
Jena stared at the doorway Chase had disappeared through, desperately trying to regulate her breathing. That had not just happened. Chase Montgomery had not just smacked her ass, made out with her, and said she was his mate.
His. Mate.
She had to be dreaming. Or he was delusional.
Both?
She slapped a hand over her traitorous lips, still feeling his on them. God. Why had they felt so good? No. They hadn’t. He was a terrible kisser, and this was a joke. It had to be a joke.
But…weres didn’t screw around with that mate stuff, and his lips—his tongue—had been amazing. Had she ever been kissed like that? She raised her hand to fan herself.
The short answer was no, because his skills had definitely improved since high school. Damn. If he could kiss like that, what would it feel like if he—
No. No. Down girl. Jena pushed up to sit, scowling.
It’d just been way too long since she’d been with someone.
Christ, food truck tacos at 3 a.m. were fine dining after eating store-brand taquitos for, well, forever.
That’s all this was. She took a deep breath and cracked her palms against her thighs.
Her lady bits clenched at the sound.
How the hell he’d known she’d get off on—no. He didn’t know. He was just being an asshole…which was another stupid thing she got off on. Jena ripped her hair back over an ear, frustrated. Looked like a date with her battery-operated boyfriend was in her future.
And she was so replaying Chase calling her his good girl in that growly voice of his.
Ugh! No, damnit, bad Jena! She shot to her feet and bit back a yelp as she collapsed back onto the couch. Christ. She’d forgotten about her freaking ankle.
Stupid Chase. God, what was she thinking! She hated him and all his muscly, domineering, too goddamned sexy kissing abilities. It was just another trick, it had to be.
Jena pulled her ankle onto her knee and traced a glyph over the swelling, trying to gauge the karmic price for healing herself.
It was a lot lower than it should’ve been, thanks to Chase’s stupid spit.
And what the hell?! It was all his fault she hadn’t thought to do this before.
Ugh! Something about him had always scrambled her brain.
That musk of his—she couldn’t think straight when he was around.
Her fingertips tingled as a jolt of power left her, and the swelling receded along with the ache, leaving her karma at a deficit.
She needed to do something to build it up if she wanted any hope of removing “BITCH” from the sidewalk in front of the shop.
Fucking Crystal. Jena had zero doubt she’d put someone up to it.
Which was also Chase’s fault.
Jena scowled as she stood. Her ankle wasn’t one hundred percent, but it had healed enough to hobble into the kitchen and over to the Hoosier cabinet jammed into the corner. She pulled the bottle of whiskey off the top shelf.
Because alcohol made everything better.
She brought it over to the table along with a glass and sat, pulling out her phone to shoot Felix a text.
Not surprisingly, he didn’t answer. Jena tossed the phone aside and poured herself three fingers of liquor.
Couldn’t wait to hear about his waterfall escapades once he came up for air.
That was guaranteed to put her in a better mood.
“There better not be ice in that glass.” Aggie wheezed, shuffling in. “And I expect one poured for me by the time I get over there.”
Jena took a sip. “You know you’re not supposed to drink on your meds.”
“Considering I don’t plan on driving or operating heavy machinery anytime soon, you can make an exception.”
“You can have a sip of mine.”
“Hell no. You backwash.”
“What?” Jena sputtered. “I do not!” She sighed at Aggie’s “oh, please” expression and got her a glass, splashing a scant mouthful into it as the older witch sat.
“Don’t go and waste it all on a dying woman,” she muttered, picking it up and shooting it back before holding out her empty glass. “Please, sir, I want some more.”
Jena frowned and poured her another measure. Aggie’s Oliver Twist voice always got her. “Don’t make me aim a blow at your head with a ladle.” Jena held it out then pulled it away as the older woman reached for it. “This is it.”
“Yes, Mom.” Aggie sat back with a look on her face that usually meant she was plotting or about to say something scandalous. “So…what are we drinking to? You finally getting some?”
Jena rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”
“Mmm. Must be why it stinks like pheromones in here again, and you’re flushed. Is that beard burn all over your face?”
Jena put a hand to it, then scowled. “No.” Maybe.
Okay, probably, yes. She opened her mouth to make up an excuse—God.
Whatever. “The jerk kissed me, okay? I don’t get it.
He—he said I was his mate. How is that even a thing?
I didn’t think it worked like that. Doesn’t there have to be common genetics? ”
Aggie shrugged. “A were’s bond is a type of magic, and I’m pretty sure I remember your mother saying there was one or two somewhere in your family tree. Christ, you shake anybody’s hard enough and all kinds of shit falls out. Think there’s a jinn in mine.”
“So you think it’s possible?”
“Anything is possible. Probable is an entirely different wheel of cheese.” She raised her glass then paused. “You hire that contractor yet?”
Jena took another sip of whiskey and frowned, pulling her laptop over.
“Yeah. I signed the papers yesterday and emailed them right out. I didn’t want someone else taking the slot they had.
When I called to ask about the terms and conditions, she said they were booked solid until February.
You’re lucky they had a cancellation and can start tomorrow.
” She sighed, signing into one of the many job search apps she’d recently installed.
Too bad they were all coming up with bupkis.
“Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it.”
“Terms and conditions?” Aggie asked around her glass.
“The contract is totally binding unless I want to pay double to get out of it. I mean, I guess I get that if they’re so in demand, but it doesn’t seem like a normal stipulation,” she said, scrolling through nothing, nothing, and more nothing. “Granted, I know zip about historical renovations—”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I have a good feeling about this.”
Jena cocked a brow at her. “The last time you said that, the dozen foster kittens you also had a good feeling about peed all over an entire shipment of bespoke silk robes.”
Aggie shrugged, coughing into her handkerchief. “And I still maintain they must’ve been stitched with ill intent.”
“That cost us five thousand dollars, Aggie.”
“Saved us double that in the long run. Not to mention accruing the bad karma for selling them,” she said, taking another sip, totally unrepentant.
Jena shook her head, zeroing in on an actual possibility for employment. A shop in Fayet was looking for a bookkeeper. She shot off her resume and a quick cover letter. Couldn’t quite tell what they did, but the salary was right.
“You answer the coven?” Aggie asked.
“No, but stupid Felix thinks I should consider it, too.” Jena looked up at the pregnant silence that followed. “What?” Aggie shrugged, and Jena rolled her eyes. “You really think I should join?”
“I think you’re as stubborn as your mother, and what I or Felix think doesn’t equate to an ant’s fart in a hurricane.”
“But…” Jena prompted, knowing that wasn’t the end of it.
“But you’re an idiot if you piss on potential allies, and powerful ones at that. There’s also the node to consider.” She narrowed her eyes and waggled an arthritic finger at Jena’s dismissive huff. “It needs to be taken in hand. All that wild magic leaking everywhere isn’t good for anybody.”
“Felix said Matilda thinks it’s going to become an unseelie mound,” Jena said, taking another sip.
“Unlikely,” Aggie snorted, “but Lord only knows what it will attract, and it’s already repelling the more conservative practitioners.”
“Good, then maybe Matilda will leave,” Jena muttered.
“And miss everything going to hell in a hand basket? I’d put money on the unseelie mound first.” Aggie shook her head. “You know, just because you join doesn’t mean you have to go to tea every Sunday. Hell, I don’t.”
“Yeah, but you’re Aggie Wright, and the rules don’t apply to you.”
“And you’re Jena Seymore. Your family used to be top of the food chain in this town, hell, in this entire county. No reason it can’t be again, and then you make the rules.”
Jena snorted, going back to her scrolling. “Pretty sure dear old dad screwed that pooch.”
“He certainly did his damndest.” Aggie sighed.
“But that was William. Fun at parties but a shitty house guest and as vindictive as the day was long. Always pulling some stunt that made you wanna wring his neck, then gaslighting everyone with a perfectly plausible explanation. Son of a bitch was more charming than the devil himself and just as hell bent on staining souls. There’s no way he was a pureblooded warlock for all he claimed to be.
” She took another swig of liquor. “Shit, for all I know, the bastard was unseelie…”
Jena shot Aggie a side-eye for maligning her genetics. “Gee, thanks for that.”
“Fine. He could’ve been part demon. Regardless, by the time Rebecca’d had enough, she was already pregnant with you.
He’d done a fine job of isolating her at the end, so I’ve no idea what went on between them, but I got the impression it wasn’t good before he cleared out.
I can’t say anyone was sorry to see the backend of him.
Weren’t particularly surprised to hear he’d drained her bank accounts and pissed all over her assets on his way out, either. ”
How drunk was she? Aggie rarely spoke about what’d gone down between Jena’s parents. She cocked her brow. “Hexing the majority of the town in the process will do that.”