Page 9 of Magic Pussy

They had gumbo, and then Rain took him outside so that he might survey the grounds around them. He and his cheetah were focused on noticing the ways to get into their hotel—through the roof, the balconies, the pub next door—but he had to admit that the lively, vibrant city distracted him. Something demanded his attention every other minute.

Luke halted in front of a cafe, and although he'd just eaten, his stomach growled, demanding that they stop there.

"What is that smell?" he asked, sniffing the air.

"Beignets," Rain replied with a shrug. "We can order coffee and get some if you'd like. "

He liked that very much.

It was when he ate his first beignet that he came to the conclusion that Rain was insane.

"In a week," he told her, "I'll be ready to sign a lease for an apartment in this town."

Rain snorted.

"I'd demand a wager, but that would be unfair. I just know better. You've seen the Nola of daylight. You have no idea what it's like in our world."

She was right, he didn't, but he soon found out.

The White Witch

“What is this?” the shifter almost growled, suspiciously sniffing his coffee.

“Coffee.” Then she lifted a brow, catching on. “Probably chicory coffee.”

Luke huffed and muttered about people messing with coffee, while tentatively sipping the beverage. He must have deemed it acceptable, because his frown disappeared and he kept on drinking contentedly.

Rain didn't pay him much attention, her mind otherwise engaged.

Iris hadn’t ever shown her face in the presence of another person before. What the fuck was she doing here now?

She'd disappeared when they were walking the crowded streets filled with tourists, guides, and musicians, but when Rain and Luke were alone, she came back. Just a few minutes ago, she had been walking right behind the shifter and staring at his round ass with a satisfied grin.

Not that Rain could blame her: it was a nice ass.

Rain wondered if Iris was more powerful here because they were on her turf, so to speak. In her city, close to the cemetery where her remains were buried. That might explain how she could hang out with them. It didn't explain why she would want to; ghosts generally didn't bother people they didn't know.

But still, the explanation seemed insufficient. Things were changing around here. It wasn't just that what she knew of the laws of the outerworld didn't seem to apply. It wasn't even the fear she'd seen in Amelia's eyes when she'd asked about the covens.

It was power. She felt power under the surface, simmering slowly, growing stronger every instant.

There was only one good news: it wasn't her problem.

“We’ve gone around the block now, bodyguard. Happy, or do you need to survey more?”

She half hoped he’d say yes, give her a reason to delay the unavoidable.

She was going to have to go see Michelle, and soon. Now was already too late. Protocol dictated that foreign witches present themselves to the head of the coven right away.

Not that she was exactly foreign, but she’d left them; the same rules applied.

“I’m all good,” Luke said. “Honestly, my cheetah will be a little on edge regardless of how thoroughly we scan the area. Too many people. Not enough space.”

“And nowhere to run,” she guessed.

Luke nodded.

“We can go to the bayou later. First, I need to greet sister dearest.”

---