He winced.

"Looks like you get to live," he said finally and dropped her hand. Then, he picked up his bag and let the door slam behind him as he walked out.

Evan spit the lingering taste of the witch on the pavement outside the store. It was nowhere near the worst blood he had ever tasted, but he wasn't interested in drinking subpar blood from a witch.

It was bad enough he intended to feed on her at all. But the damage she did to his pride as a vampire by staking him could only be repaired by taking from her what she took from him. That was the law. Actually...if he thought about it hard enough, he wasn't sure if witches were included in underdweller law.

Eh, those were small details.

He licked his right fang.

The trouble was that the blood was a loyal representation of how she smelled. An interesting mix of spices, but bitter. It only made him more dedicated to tasting her when her scent was sweet. The only issue was how fast her blood scent could change. She had slightly eased up while they were sewing, but it wasn't enough. For all Evan knew, even if he did manage to sink his fangs into her back in the park, she would likely still be able to turn most of her blood bitter.

That made him feel slightly better about failing earlier, but now it was time for a change of tactics. He just needed to figure out what his next move would be. The succubus' words haunted him. Just be nice to her.

She did seem to respond, albeit slightly, to kindness. If he hadn't let his curiosity get the better of him, maybe he could have made headway in that front. But to have to go so far as to court a witch? That reeked of desperation. He didn't want to go to her. It should be the opposite.

But the threats would make that difficult.

He began the walk back to his apartment. He'd figure something out, eventually.

He spent the next night across the street, watching and waiting patiently for an opening.

"Out here again?"

"Hello, half-succubus. What do you want?"

She came into his view, coffee carrier in hand.

"For you to quit stalking my friend and just bang her already."

Evan nearly choked on his own tongue.

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what you're here for? You don't love her, do you?"

"What are you going on about?" Evan was still stuck on her last comment.

"Those are your only options unless you're some kind of weirdo, but I can usually tell a weirdo."

She was incessantly annoying, but maybe the only way to get close to the witch. He pulled out his wallet and pushed a twenty in her hand.

"I'll take that in for you," he said as he handed her the coffee with her name on it.

"Oh, nice move, handsome. I'll leave you two alone, no pressure."

He threw the drink holder in the trash and walked to the store across the street. It was empty except for her. He stole a glance of himself in the glass door. He looked good, and he was wearing a cologne that always made mortals swoon over him.

The bell rang above him as he stepped inside the shop.

"Welcome to Scented..." she said then trailed off when she spun to see him.

"Sticks. It's 'sticks', Vicky," Evan said as he came through the door. He crossed the length of the shop, meeting her at the chair where she made her stuffed animals.

"I think you know why I'm here," he said slowly.

She pulled a stick of incense from the chest of her dress and held it to his neck like a knife. He went still.

"That burns."

"It'll do a lot more than burn if you even think of hurting me or Selene."

He looked into eyes that were teetering between shades of brown and purple. Apparently, he had made an impression on her yesterday.

"Look at you, activating your magic without a caldron or full moon."

She glared at him harder. Humor wouldn't work then. Time to pivot.

"I appreciate the demonstration, really, but I just came to bring you a cup of coffee."

Her eyes were narrowed so severely that all he could see was the flash of violet in them. The only thing that would ever mark her as an underdweller. She wouldn't even look at the coffee in his hands.

He took a step to the side, and she followed. The stick was searing his flesh, but he still tried to inch closer to the counter. The witch slipped slightly, causing her hand to slide forward. Evan gasped as the incense cut into him further.

"You did this the last time I asked you if you wanted a drink. Didn't think I'd get a repeat performance," he said dryly.

The witch's eyes went down to his neck, and widened.

"I didn't know you could bleed," she said quietly, her eyes fading back to hazel.

He placed the cup on the counter behind him.

"Living things tend to do that, that wasn't some parlor trick at the park, you know. I'm not going to hurt you, I was just bringing you coffee."

She took a step back but still held up the incense.

"Swear it," she said.

Another half-baked attempt at getting him knotted into a tie. If she would do the barest of research, she'd know the incantation that would force him to say only the truth.

"I swear. I'm not going to hurt you or the succubus tonight."

That finally got her to ease up and put the incense back into a case under her dress. She passed by him and picked up the cup of coffee.

"You didn't poison or spike this, right?"

"No, Vicki. I just swore I wasn't going to hurt you, didn't I?"

He looked away as she began drinking. His skin was still on fire, dull and achy. He brought his fingers to his neck, but that only caused the burning to spread there too.

"Wait here a sec," the witch said and hurried up a staircase. She came back down with a bowl in her hands and a small towel. "If you can't wipe it off, I'll do it for you."

He nodded shallowly, careful not to agitate the hole on his throat.

"I'd appreciate it," he said.

She motioned for him to sit in the chair next to the knitting supplies. He did and tilted his chin up so she could access the wound. It was weird, exposing his neck like this. Of course she would drag him down to this level of humiliation. He felt naked, and even being uncomfortable with that was odd. He didn't mind being naked, he looked pretty good naked, people would be lucky to see him that way.

But having the witch wipe her magic off of his neck, it made him feel weak and itchy.

"Are you...finished?" he asked.

"I don't know, magic is invisible. Let me check," she said. She ran her fingers slowly over his neck. They were soft and warm. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as she prodded for any remnants of magic. If it were under different circumstances and she were someone else, he'd call what she was doing sensual.

She stroked his Adam's apple and he groaned, then tried to disguise it by clearing his throat. What was happening to him? Her magic, it was inside him again. Making him feel things again. She was hardly a witch and could barely cast a spell, how was she doing this to him?

"Alright, I think I got it all. Don't come in here looking murderous next time and we won't have to do this again."

His body didn't seem opposed to the idea of doing this again, but it was being stupid, drunk off some clumsy witch's magic.

She took the bowl and towel with her behind the counter. With her finally out of his airspace, he straightened himself. That's when he realized his fingers were still burning.

"Do you have anywhere I can wash my hands?"

She looked at him and bit her lip.

Draw blood, he thought. She didn't, of course.

"Upstairs, I can show you," she said with a sigh. She stepped from behind the counter just as the bell rang and a customer walked in. She froze.

"I'll find it," he said and headed up the stairs. The landing creaked as he stepped onto it. Outside the plain door was a pink fluffy rug, an odd choice for a bathroom. He turned the handle and stepped inside.

It wasn't a bathroom, she lived here. How did he not know that before? He closed the door behind him. The space was horribly small, even for a studio. Her bed was some kind of hybrid. A couch of some kind. Figures a mixed breed wouldn't even have a dedicated bed.

There were miscellaneous items scattered everywhere; slippers, too many throw blankets, and random balls of yarn. It smelled like her, but not the sweet smell he liked, this was different. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it felt cozy.

Must've been because the place was so small.

He walked into the kitchenette and washed his hands in the porcelain sink. There were dishes still there, maybe from the day before. A mug with a pink lipstick stain and a white plate with a smear of tomato and a strand of spaghetti on its side.

He turned off the water and rubbed his hands together. No tingle, so the magic was gone, and left in its place a strong lemony scent. Now to find a bathroom.

As Evan walked around the small space, he constantly reminded himself he was not snooping. He was looking for a bathroom so he could make sure his neck was okay. He didn't pick through the pile of late bills left on her table. He didn't touch the discarded panties left next to her bed. He ignored all of those things and found the bathroom behind the wall where her tv was mounted.

It, like everything else, was small. The door was stopped by the edge of a tub, and the little counter space she had was littered with hair care products. On the edge of the tub was a paperback novel, a romance by the look of it. Evan couldn't help but pick it up.

Yeah, it was definitely a romance novel. Sheeted Fangs. Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the drawing of a Hollywoodesqe vampire embracing the ghost of a woman. What the hell will they write next?

Gods, did she think of him when she read that? Maybe she did. He put the book back, making sure to keep it on the right page.

He looked into the mirror and dabbed at the hole in his throat with a thumb covered in spit. It began to fade. Hopefully, it would heal better than his hand did.

He went for the stairs and watched as the witch worked. There was a sweetness mixed with the citrusy nerves she had back in the park. But why? He was just about to take the last step when something hit him.

She was going to take him to her living space. Even if she were nervous, she was willing, and he didn't even have to pry.

He looked back at her.

She was checking the customer out at the counter. She was smiling, as if she hadn't held him at magic point just ten minutes ago. She glanced up at him, the smile not quite fading away, as she handed the customer her change.

Either she vastly underestimated his strength and ability to overpower her, or she was extremely confident in her own ability.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He wasn't sure of his feelings on a lot of things. That book on her tub, those cheap panties she wore, the fact that she had somehow stabbed him again. He should be angry, right? He's supposed to be getting revenge and standing up for himself. He's supposed to be getting rid of a threat to all underdwellers.

He didn't know how to feel about that either.

"Please come again!" she said as the customer exited. She turned to Evan as he took the last step off the stairs. "Find what you needed?" she asked. Her tone was odd, a mix of nervousness and irritation. Maybe some embarrassment.

"Yeah," he said simply.

She shifted and looked away from him. So she was embarrassed. Good, finally some justice for her stabbing him again.

"I don't have any amigurumi, if that's what you're here for," she said.

"Amigu-what?"

She let out a small laugh into her fist. It was cute. Too cute. "The stuffed animals. The way I crochet them, that's the technical term."

"Ah. Right. Well, I better get going then. Unless you're interested in grabbing a bite to eat?"

"I'm always free after sunrise."

He sighed with a mix of disappointment and relief. He didn't want to be there anymore. Not with her and her magic infecting him. He needed to sleep it off, drink it off, something away from her.

"Goodnight," she said.

He looked back at her from the door.

"Yeah. Goodnight to you too."