Warnings: This title contains explicit scenes & sex magick.  

 

Word Count: 9,872

“Who could that be at seven in the morning? The closed sign is right there, hanging plain as day, in the window. Are they blind or just stupid?” Sandra spoke fast, a flurry of words that matched her heartbeats since she’d jumped half out of her skin from the mere sound of knuckles on wood.

“Maybe they’re just ignorant and think the store hours posted don’t apply to them!” Sandra continued. Her sleep-deprived brain proved more than a little bitchy.

“I’ll get rid of whoever it is,” Aunt Charlamaine offered. She started to stand from her crouched position over a pile of broken glass she’d swept into a pile at the side of the room.

“No, I got it. I’ll let Janie out on as well,” Sandra offered as she walked to the door. She’d given Janie a quick pat on the arm on her way. Getting to the door and getting rid of the person, as quickly as humanly possible, were the only real motives she had at the moment. She moved fast, beyond sick of waiting to find out why it had been so urgent she fly out here. Oh, she loved to visit her aunt, but the dark and bizarre didn’t sit well with her on this unexpected trip.

Through the words painted on the glass windowpanes in the door, she could see the figure was large, male, and muscular. When he looked around the name, Store of the Sacred, scrolled there, her breath left her. Crazy as the thoughts even sounded in her own head, there stood the most drop-dead, gorgeous looking man she’d ever seen. Dark silver eyes sparkled even though she still stood several steps from the door. His hair, as dark as night, glistened in the first light of day. His chiseled jaw line, along with the cut of his cheeks and forehead, took on a symmetrical perfection when he smiled at her. Suddenly conscious of everything about herself, her full lips tingled, and she couldn’t help but touch them. Her hair felt alive on her head, energy ran hot through each red curl. Her hips swayed, more pronounced with each step, as she ran her hands over them to smooth the silk of her lacy black dress. Each click of her heels, which took her closer to the door, resounded through her, kindled a fire deep in her core.