Making A Spell Is Easy. It's Trusting

I’d Given Up On The White Picket Fence After Kisten Had Died—finding Out My Kids Would Be Demons Was The Nail In The Coffin.

So Much For Playing Nice.tired, I Let My Eyes Shut While They Argued, Hoping I Didn’t Die In The Interim And Make The Problem Moot. I Wasn’t Ever Going To Get My Water. Ever.

Knowledge Is Power. Ignorance Is Bliss. But Curiosity—even If It Had Killed The Cat—is King.

With A Gentle Pressure, Our Lips Met. His Hands Slipped More Firmly About Me, And I Held Myself Back, Not Afraid, But Wanting To Feel Everything Slowly As I Leaned In, Tasting The Wine On Him, Feeling The Warmth Of His Body Pressing Into Mine, Breathing In Our Scents That Were Mingling And Changing With The Warmth. My Hands Rose To Find His Hair, And I Relaxed Into Him As The Silky Strands Brushed Through My Fingers. I Wanted More, And I Leaned Into Him As Our Lips Moved Against Each Other.

Trent, Do You Have Any Weapons? Like A Gun?” He Looked At Me In Disgust. “you’re Here To Protect Me,” He Said As He Closed The Distance Between Us And Stood Beside Me. “you Didn’t Bring A Weapon?” “yeah, I Brought A Weapon,” I Snapped As I Brought My Splat Gun Out And Aimed It At The Ceiling Where The Sounds Were Coming From. “i Just Thought That Since You’re A Freaking Murderer You Might Have A Gun, Too (...)