Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,49

a mixture to energize, into the silver strainer set in my cup and poured the hot water over it, the heady brew waking my senses.

When I glanced up, Jules’s face was white as a sheet. “What do you mean? How would I know that?”

“I mean, you’re an Enforcer. Didn’t Mom ever tell you this kind of stuff? I figured you had all the intel on the supernaturals.”

I set the strainer with the soaked tea leaves in the sink and settled in my usual spot at the table beside her.

She shifted nervously in her seat, sipping her coffee. Rather than answer my question, she asked me another. “How does Tia know so much about Ruben’s rules?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Apparently, she’s got a new boyfriend, her neighbor Marcus, and he does a lot of business with Ruben.”

“The guy she put a hex on last Christmas and Evie had to intervene to fix?”

I laughed. “The very one.”

Ruben was overlord of the New Orleans vampires, but he also had a hand in many businesses. I didn’t even know how many, honestly, but he always had a variety of characters coming and going at his bookstore. Many of whom arrived with bodyguards and such.

As I sipped my tea, I suddenly became way too curious about something. “Can I see something?” I asked as I pulled her phone across the table.

“Sure.” She hopped up. “I’m going to make omelets.”

I scrolled back to the home screen of the app. Unable to help myself, I typed in a particular name in the search box at the top. Good grief! Six hundred and thirty-seven reviews with literally thousands of comments? From women all over the damn world!

The gushing and fawning over Devraj’s pleasurable bite spiked my adrenaline. The things these women were saying! Complete euphoria. Mind-blowing ecstasy. And—oh, come on! His mouth is now my go-to fantasy for getting off. The worst was some woman named Elmira in Italy who wrote, Ten million stars! No sex is needed with a man like Devraj. I came from his mouth on my neck and his teeth in my throat alone.

I clicked off the phone, my heart racing. Jules was whisking her eggs furiously. And though I totally understood her angry vibes, that’s not what I was feeling. It was envy twisting my stomach into knots, not anger. These other women had experienced pleasure in the arms of Devraj. Suddenly, I had the craziest thought. Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Now that I was completely awake and feeling overly fidgety, I needed to get out. I rinsed my teacup and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m going to the market for some fresh fruit. We’re all out.”

“No omelet?” she called.

“Not for me. Thanks.” I was too annoyed to eat.

“If they have any jackfruit, get me two or three, please.”

“Sure thing.”

Jules was always experimenting with new recipes, and the Asian market just a few blocks from our house had the most delicious fruit, local and imported. I was a bit of a fruit addict, so I made the trip at least once a week for fresh produce.

I pulled on a lightweight, sleeveless, chambray dress that brushed just above my knees. With small brown buttons all the way down the front, it was casual and comfortable, like all my clothes. Perfect walking dress for a lovely walking day. I pulled on my favorite gladiator sandals, grabbed my big bag, and headed downstairs and out the back door, only to stop dead in my tracks.

There, leaning against its newly polished kickstand, was my bicycle. Not only had it been affixed with a new back tire and front tire, but it was repainted to a bright, shiny red. And there were bright new reflectors on the spokes of the new wheels. I stepped up and ran a finger along the—yep—brand new basket. Okay. Now I officially forgave him, and we were even. But I still refused to glance toward the house of Mr. Ten Million Stars as I zipped onto the sidewalk and headed for the Asian market.

I couldn’t help but smile as I rode along. The temperature was perfect in the low seventies. People were walking their cute dogs, meeting friends for breakfast, and I was once again riding my wonderful bicycle, enjoying the breeze in my hair, which I’d left down today.

I pulled out my folded shopping bag from inside my giant handbag and wandered the produce section. I found some choice papayas. The mangoes looked a little underripe, though, so I only