Will do as I’m told, my ass.
When have I ever done as I’m told? In fact, if you tell me to do something, you can guarantee I’m going to do the exact opposite. It’s like I have a strange compulsion to.
Instead of listening to them, I box up my latest baking adventure and decide to slip out of the backdoor and go to the police station.
I rehearse what I’ll say as I hurry across the cobbled lanes, down the high street, and into the police station. I need to get in to see the man, and hopefully my baking will help…unless it goes wrong again.
No, think positive, Cassandra.
Squaring my shoulders, I stick my head around the wooden door to see the four police officers eating lunch behind their desks. On the back wall are the two cells, and the one on the left is filled with the man. He’s asleep, or appears to be. His lean, tall, muscular body is stretched out on the cot. His hand is over his face, but when I step into the room, I see his hand move and those eyes lock onto me, filled with intensity. The deeper I tread into the space, the more nerves fill me. He watches me almost hungrily, and when I reach the first desk, he sits up and tilts his head with a strange smile on his lips.
I force myself to look away from him, although it is hard for some reason. I blame it on my need to know why he’s killing my people. “Cassandra,” Sheriff Leyton greets, sitting up in his chair. He has mustard on his uniform from his half-eaten hotdog. “What are you doing here?” he queries, looking behind me in confusion.
I thrust the box at him. “I brought you some cakes for doing such amazing work and capturing the k-killer.” I blink innocently, pretending to stumble over the word.
He grins, standing and hiking his pants up as the others move closer. He takes the box and opens it as I step back, still smiling sweetly like a dummy. “Well, that’s mighty kind, Cassandra. Oh, these look delicious. Mildred is always telling me not to eat as much sugar, but I won’t tell if you won’t.” He laughs.
“Not a word.” I bat my lashes, keeping my smile in place and my hands clasped before me in an oh shucks, look how innocent and adorable I am kind of way.
My eyes dart back to the man in the cell. He’s standing at the bars now, watching me with a lingering smile on his plump lips and confusion in his gaze. He’s observing me like I’m an interesting, unpredictable bug.
I hear a groan and look over to see the policemen grunting in delight as they dive into the cakes. Sliding to the left slightly, I shuffle my way over to the cell while they are distracted. “Why did you kill her?” I hiss.
“What? No cake for me?” he replies, leaning casually into the bars like we’re at a pub and he’s trying to pick me up. He runs his eyes down me, making me shiver from the dirty sensation of it. It feels like he can see through my clothes, as if it was his palms skating along my skin and not just his eyes. Goosebumps erupt on my flesh and my hair stands on end as those blue eyes finally meet mine again. There’s a lingering darkness there that should scare me, but for some reason, I lick my lips instead.
He watches me do it and groans. “Don’t tease, my little blue rose.”
Just then, a weird snorting sound has us both turning to the officers. My eyes fly wide as I take them in. The half-eaten cakes tumble to the floor, and their clothes drop as the policemen seem to melt.
And from the mess of clothes, four pigs emerge. One bigger and chunkier, clearly the sheriff.
Pigs, I turned the police into pigs.
Fuck, I’m getting into so much trouble for this.
I must have mixed up the recipe…
“Rose…what did you do?” he inquires, laughing so hard, tears drip from his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he leans into the bars.
I stare, open-mouthed, at the police officers before groaning. “It was supposed to make them sleep for an hour…not this—” I sigh, waving my hand towards them. “One day, I’ll get the recipes right.”
“You. Turned. Them. Into. Pigs,” he wheezes.
I turn and glare at him, pointing my finger. “Magical baking is hard! Don’t you judge me you…you murderer, you! Now, why are you killing witches?” I demand, crossing my arms.
His laughter dies to chuckles as he wipes his face. “Oh god, Rose, you’re incredible.”
I huff and narrow my eyes. “Now, or else—”
“You’ll turn me into a unicorn?” he retorts with a grin, and then his eyes drop to my breasts, which I pushed up when I crossed my arms. He chuckles again and leans farther out of the bars. “Is that all you want to know?” he asks, his voice dropping lower.
I shiver from his timbre before pointing at him again. “Cut the charming crap. Why are you killing people?”
“Who said I was?” he counters, his eyebrow arched.
“You were standing over a body!” I throw my hands in the air.
“Maybe I’m a grim reaper, or maybe I was there to harvest organs,” he teases.
“Were you?” I demand.
“Oh, Rose, you are too cute.” He winks at me. “I wish I could stay here and chat all day, but I have to find the creature actually killing the witches, though I did appreciate the little nap I got to take here.”
I sputter, but then the bars disappear, and suddenly, he’s through them and on the other side, and all my confidence drains away. I gasp and stumble back as he appears from the other side of the bars. He’s more powerful than I thought. What is he? And what did he mean he needs to find the creature doing it? It’s clearly him! Right?
“Sorry, little witch, I have things to do,” he repeats, running his eyes down my body with a groan. “You don’t know how sorry I am I have to leave.”
“What? You can’t leave, you killed them—”
“Do I look like a killer to you?” he murmurs, stepping closer until I’m backed into a desk.
“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes trapped in his, held by his power.
He smirks and leans closer, reaching up with his long, lean finger, and ignoring my flinch, he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering there for a moment. My belly flops and my eyes close automatically as I feel his breath waft over my lips. We are so close, so close. He’s a killer…he’s…he’s a—
“Good,” he whispers almost against my lips. “Remember that, little witch. Oh, but you are tempting. All soft curves and kissable lips. Look how sweetly you gave in, even when you think I’m a murderer…”
He’s right, I’m leaning into him, helpless from his proximity. I want to fight this attraction blooming between us, but I can’t. I wait, expecting a kiss, but a moment later, there’s a blast of heat, and when I open my eyes, he’s gone. In his spot, on the ground, is a rose. A gold rose.
Picking it up, I look around in confusion. What the hell just happened?
If he did kill them, then who’s next? And if he didn’t, who did?
But more importantly, how do I turn the officers back before my coven finds out I fucked up another spell?
Kyro
Cassandra, I think they called her.
She’s stunning. The little witch almost tempted me to forget why I got arrested in the first place. Usually, I don’t concern myself with other supernaturals’ business, but when I’m getting blamed for murder, yeah, I get involved.