Jodi Redford - Maximum Witch

What the hell? Concerned he was the one in danger of being attacked, she jerked her gaze away. “I-I’m fine.” Yeah, talk about the biggest honkin’ lie of the century. “I think I just need to…use the bathroom.” Now that she’d said it, there was no denying the urgency to empty her bladder. Grimacing, she wiggled in the blanket. Beyond his shoulder, she spotted an open doorway where she could make out the corner of a vinyl shower curtain decorated with neon-orange starfish. Just the sight of that shower stall made her think of water, which of course made her have to pee even more. “Aw crap.”

“What?”

“Bathroom. Now.” She scrabbled with the blanket and tumbled off the mattress, landing on the floor with a thunk when her legs refused to cooperate. Before she could untangle herself and crawl onto her knees, her rescuer scooped her up and carried her toward the bathroom.

It felt odd getting carted around like that, and kind of embarrassing, considering her nipples were poking him in the chest as if to say, Hey, look at me, sexy mister . Thankfully, he didn’t take them up on their offer.

He lowered her to her feet next to the shower. Her toes immediately curled in protest of the icy tile floor. Jeez, it was colder than the interior of an igloo in this place. No wonder her nipples were waving a salute. Yeah, as if that were the only reason. When he made no move to leave, she hugged the blanket closer and gave him a pointed look.

His cheeks reddening slightly, he coughed into his fist. “You, uh, probably can manage the rest on your own.” Pivoting, he strode through the doorway, awarding her a nice view of his muscular back and the dimples riding low at the base of his spine. Before her brain finished conjuring the visual of tracing those intriguing grooves with her tongue, he snicked the door shut behind him.

Her wispy exhale leaking free, she shrugged from the blanket and hobbled toward the toilet. She was relieved to note that he appeared to be amazingly tidy for a guy, but halfway in the process of squatting, it occurred to her that he might be within earshot on the other side of the door. Not about to let him listen to her pee, she scrabbled for the faucet and cranked it to full blast.

Once done, she washed up, making a valiant effort not to wince at the frightening picture she made in the mirrored cabinet suspended over the sink. Wet clumps of hair were plastered together in messy tufts. All traces of her makeup were also gone, emphasizing her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. As she splashed cool water on her face, it dawned on her that her glasses had disappeared—to the bottom of the Atlantic, no doubt. Great. She’d just bought them too. Didn’t that figure?

Still, all things considered, losing a pair of glasses was minor compared to what could have happened if Mr. Hunky Buns out there hadn’t fished her out of the ocean. “Oh man. I don’t even know his name.” She’d been too busy either punching him or lusting over his dimples to ask.

“Did you say something?”

She yelped at the unexpectedness of his whiskey-smooth baritone floating through the doorframe. So he had been listening. Thank goddess she’d turned the faucet on.

He rapped on the woodwork. “I’m coming in, okay?” The door cracked open and he poked his head inside. “How’re you doing?”

“Better, thanks.”

His gaze raked her in an assessing sweep, making her cheeks heat. But underneath her embarrassment lurked something else. A hot awareness that crept beneath her skin and slid through her sensory nerves like warm honey.

She’d never been this affected by a man before. Particularly not by one she’d known less than five minutes and didn’t even have a name for beyond Mr. Hunky Buns.

There is something very wrong with me . “Could you, um, hand me that blanket over there?” She pointed to the spot where she’d deposited it by the shower. No way in hell would she bend over in front of him. Her luck, a boob would pop out. Not that there was much there to see, but still.

He hunched over and swiped the blanket, the sinewy rope of muscle in his arm flexing. The waistband of his navy sweatpants dipped low, revealing a strange band of bruises that encircled his lower abs. She also couldn’t help noticing the mouthwatering V lines where his hip and groin intersected. A whimper escaped her and his scrutiny lifted, fusing on her face. She could have bitten her tongue off for the stupid slip she’d just made. Averting her stare, she held out her hand, waiting for him to toss her the blanket. Instead, he straightened in a flash. He crossed to her, and without warning, flattened her over the sink. She gasped, both at the suddenness of the move and the dizzying reaction it created in her brain.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” She attempted to wriggle out of his hold but he only pushed her lower over the basin. A distressed yelp hiccupped past her lips. “I have a black belt in judo.” Okay, not really. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Relax. I’m just trying to check out your ass.”

She stiffened. Oh hell no. He did not just say that. “ Excuse me?”

His hands stilled and he went silent for an awkward moment before he cleared his throat. “Not how I meant it to sound.” The pads of his thumbs brushed near her tailbone, hitting a tender spot that hadn’t been there before. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Does that hurt?”

Biting her lip to stall any further whimpering, she nodded.

He swore softly. “I didn’t notice this earlier.”

The way he said those words made her nervous, like maybe there was something really scary back there. Something along the lines of a disfiguring, oozing sore that’d qualify for the Guinness World Record of grossest thing ever.

“I think it’s either a burn. Or a…bite.”

“A bite ? From what?” Unable to take the horrible suspense a second longer, she twisted to the side, trying to see over her shoulder. All she managed to do was wrench her neck. Cursing, she massaged the aching tendon. “If there’s something back there, I want to see it.” Well, part of her wanted to see it. The other half of her brain—the chickenshit side—was still pretty squicked out by what it might find.

“Come here.” With a quick gesture, he coaxed her into the bedroom. They stopped in front of the dresser, and he maneuvered her until she faced sideways. It still took some creative contortion on her part, but finally she spotted what had him so concerned.

On the good-news front, the red striping of pinpricks on her lower lumbar and left butt cheek wasn’t as terrifying and icky as what she’d envisioned. But it still stung something fierce. Amazing she hadn’t noticed it before. “I wonder how I got those.”

His intense eyes met hers in the mirror. “You honestly don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head.

He dragged a hand along his mouth and chin, wiping a frown into place. That tiny downward hitch to his lips only managed to add to her escalating anxiety. “There’s a strong chance you’ve been bit. And infected with venom, which might explain why you were out of it for so long, if your system was trying to fight the effects.”

“Venom?” She could feel the blood leaching from her face.

“My buddy Boone’s on his way over. He’s a local vet, so he keeps his medic kit stocked with just about every antivenin known to mankind. Not to mention all the species in between.”

She gaped at him, wondering what exactly he’d meant by that last part. Truthfully, though, she had more important concerns to deal with at the moment. “You really think he’ll have the right serum for this?” She turned away from the mirror and stared into his eyes, silently pleading with him to ease her mind.