A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,6
unrelieved black with an enormous floppy black hat shading her pale face. Her hair was done in that faded style that seemed to be in fashion, black on top that bled to pale gray at the ends. Her lips were painted a sinister dark red, and she was wearing sunglasses shaped like bat wings.
She wasn't even trying to hide the fact she was a witch.
The second one had cotton-candy pink hair, done up in two messy buns on top of her head, the color clashing violently with her obnoxiously yellow crop top and flowery teal skirt.
“Well, aren't you the sexy specimen,” the colorful one purred, tilting her head to the side with a playful smirk. “Haven't I seen you around town?”
The Gothic one lifted a solid black fingernail and tipped down her bat glasses to peer at him curiously. “I sure have. Yum.”
Between the two of them, they somehow managed to make him feel like a prey animal. It was never a good idea to piss off a witch, so he did his level best to be polite. “You two out of Eye of Newt or something?”
Ivy's laugh wrapped around him like a sensual hug. “I make sure my girls stay flush in their potion ingredients. What brings you by?”
The Gothic one pushed her sunglasses back up, but Uriah could still sense the narrowing of her eyes as she focused on Ivy. “My last client came in quite flustered and told me all about some piece of shit who attempted to humiliate my sister.
“I believe he even went so far as to tell her she looked like a whore and implied he wouldn't be giving her the wages he owed her. Juliet and I came to offer our services.”
“I voted for disembowelment or toadification,” said Juliet, gleefully raising her hand as proof of her support.
Ivy sighed, moving in to hug each of the witches. “Thanks for the back-up, Kerrigan, but it's been handled.”
A little slow on the uptake with his lungs breathing in Ivy's intoxicating scent—green growing things and fragrant flowers—Uriah just stood there like a lovesick fool until the Gothic one's words penetrated the haze of pheromones.
“Wait, sister?”
Ivy shrugged when he turned to ogle her, a lick of discomfort slithering across her expression. “Maybe not by blood, but in every other way that matters. What's that look... shit. Your sleuth is anti-witch.”
Uriah shook his head slowly, unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. “No sleuth. Just me. You're not human.”
He meant that as a statement of victorious satisfaction, but Ivy's cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of red, and both her sister witches stepped closer with expressions that suggested they were contemplating using his carcass as a rug to decorate the floor.
“I'm done with lunch; I'll get the forklift.”
Uriah stared after Ivy, completely at a loss for what he'd done to upset her. Ivy obviously knew what he was, so she must know it was strictly forbidden for shifters and humans to mate. But she wasn't human, which was all the damn encouragement he needed to get her into the bed he'd made just for her.
“What did I say?” he asked her sisters.
Juliet crossed her arms over her eyeball-searing top, answering his question with a question of her own, “You brought Ivy food?”
He shrugged, rubbing at his chest in an effort to soothe the confused growls his bear made. “She was hungry.”
“Why'd you think Ivy was human?” Kerrigan wanted to know.
Uriah debated how best to avoid another misstep. “Witches always have that burnt incense smell around them, and magic makes my skin crawl. Ivy smells like springtime and sunlight. No heebies. I hurt her?”
He caught the two witches sharing a look, and after a moment of indecision, Kerrigan gave a lift of her shoulder. “It's an old wound that's still healing. You couldn't have known. If it's meant to be, she'll tell you about it. She likes hibiscus tea.”
“I already got her one. Two limes, one pump of agave.” He sounded pathetic even to himself, watching while Ivy expertly maneuvered the forklift to get another pallet of dirt. Why was her ability to operate heavy machinery such a turn on?
Juliet guffawed. “Stalker much?”
“Is it stalking to find out everything that makes Ivy happy?”
“Depends on your motives,” Juliet pointed out reasonably.
Uriah shrugged, finally understanding what his bear had been trying to tell him for two years. No wonder he'd been such a grumpy bastard.
“She's my mate.” Saying the words out loud caused indescribable joy to flood through him and