Skyler

Greg's store was tucked away down a narrow, twisting back alley, the sort of place you'd only find if you already knew it was there. A faded purple sign swung gently above the door, painted with whimsical silver lettering that read THE CAVERN. Outside, carved pumpkins grinned up from worn wooden crates, surrounded by tiny resin witches, black cats with curled tails, and bundles of cinnamon sticks tied with twine. It was the kind of shop that balanced perfectly between charming tourist trap and serious witch's trove.

Rayne stood beside me on the uneven cobblestone, staring at a resin figurine of a cackling witch stirring a cauldron. He nudged it with his shoe, expression disdainful. "How twee."

I shot him a dark look. "If you're going to be a snob about it, you can stay in the car."

His gaze snapped to me, his sunglasses lowering just enough for our eyes to meet. "Stay in the car while you go visit Greg?" His voice was smooth, but there was a bite underneath.

Whenever I mentioned Greg, Rayne's entire face would stiffen. His polite smile would freeze at the edges, and he'd blink just a little too deliberately, like he had to remind himself how. It was unnerving—and oddly telling. Still, I ignored it.

"Greg's family have been loyal customers of ours for years. They help pay our bills," I said pointedly. "So maybe try not to alienate the people who keep us stocked with flour and electricity."

Rayne's arm tightened around mine, his thumb brushing over my pulse like he was testing how quickly he could make it race. "Oh, I'll be charming as a devil," he purred.

I groaned inwardly, already picturing the smug, territorial glint he'd no doubt flash at Greg.

Truthfully, there were two reasons I needed to come here. One was entirely professional: Greg was one of our best customers, and I couldn't afford to let my awkwardness around people—or Rayne's peculiar brand of demon possessiveness—ruin that.

The second reason was far less comfortable. The bookshop down the street had called that morning to say my special order had arrived: two hefty tomes on demons and exorcisms. Even knowing I'd bought them sat uneasily on my conscience, like a secret itching beneath my skin. Especially with Rayne right beside me, breathing down my neck—sometimes literally.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, "Shall we?"

His voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, though I couldn't tell if it was irritation or something far more dangerous. With a resigned breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped forward, Rayne shadowing me closely, ready to turn this quick errand into another silent, smug battle for dominance.

I pushed open the door and was immediately hit by the scent of sandalwood, dried lavender, and cinnamon. Inside, a young woman with pixie-like features leaned over a tarot spread. Greg lounged across from her, in khaki cargo pants and a fitted black t-shirt, his grin wide.

"So, what's it say about my love life?" Greg teased, leaning forward.

Beside me, I felt Rayne's muscles stiffen like coiled wire.

Across the shop, someone coughed. A stunning elf with silver hair swept into view, balancing a tray of bottles labeled "improve your rizz potions."

Greg's head snapped up. His face broke into a broad smile as he jumped to his feet. "Skyler! You came." His warm brown eyes sparkled, completely ignoring Rayne. "Welcome! This is Bea," he said, nodding to the pixie girl, "and that's Kai."

The elf gave me a graceful curtsey, which made me smile despite the tension.

"I'm so glad you're here," Greg said, striding over with his arms outstretched—clearly aiming for a hug.

But Rayne stepped in, blocking him like a stone wall. In his immaculate suit, he extended a hand instead, all polite menace. "Greg. A pleasure. Skyler's told me so much about your fine establishment."

Greg looked at the hand, then at me. Finally, he took it, squeezing harder than necessary. "Great to meet you... Roy, was it? Ray?"

"Rayne," he corrected, his smile tightening.

"Right. Skyler never mentioned you, Roy." Greg said flatly.

I opened my mouth to fill the awkward silence, about to say "he's a friend," but Rayne beat me to it. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me firmly to his side.

The entire shop seemed to freeze. Bea's eyes went comically wide, Kai nearly dropped the tray of tinctures they were carrying, and Greg's mouth actually fell open. Even I was left gaping at him.

"Well," Greg finally whistled, recovering first. "It's so nice you could tag along, Roy."

"Rayne," he corrected, his polite smile stretched so tightly it looked painful.

Kai, clearly deciding to rescue me, slipped in with a gentle touch to my elbow. "It's so wonderful to finally meet the witch behind our best-selling protection charms," they said warmly. "Can I get you a tea or maybe a herbal mate?"

"A peppermint tea would be lovely, thank you," I said, grateful for any distraction.

Bea quickly swept aside her tarot cards, patting the chair in front of her with an eager grin. I sank into it, relieved—until Greg dropped into the seat beside me, leaning close, his clean warm scent overtaking my senses. Then, of course, Rayne draped himself into the chair on my other side, arm casually slung over the back of my chair, fingers brushing my shoulder as though to brand his claim.

"It's so nice to finally visit your shop," I said, forcing brightness into my voice despite feeling like a tug-of-war rope. "My grandma always spoke highly of you and your father."

Greg's eyes softened, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he ran a hand through his tousled brown hair. "Yeah, our families go way back. My dad always hoped you'd get involved with the business somehow. We've needed someone exactly like you—a witch with practical knowledge of charms and potions."

Kai returned with my steaming mug of peppermint tea, and offered Rayne something, which he declined with a curt shake of his head, eyes locked on Greg the entire time.

For the next twenty minutes, I listened as Greg explained how things ran. Bea, it turned out, was a part-fairy who read fortunes and brought in foot traffic, while Kai was an elf and full-time musician who did this to pay for their studio time. Greg had taken over the shop from his father and turned it into a growing online business, selling potions, charms, and spell kits across the country.

"We really need a witch to help scale up production," Greg said, eyes shining. "Business exploded during the pandemic—people sitting at home ordering luck jars and protection sachets by the crate. I can offer you a competitive salary, overtime if you want it. Plus it might be nice for you, getting out, meeting new people."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The idea of steady income—of helping pay bills instead of just hoping our old suppliers kept coming back—was tempting. I'd never thought much about leaving the safety of our cottage and woods, but maybe it was time. Still, the thought of being surrounded by people all day made something inside me tighten up.

"I'll... have to think about it," I said carefully.

"Of course," Greg said, his hand brushing lightly over my arm. "No pressure. Just know we'd be lucky to have you."

I cleared my throat, desperate to cut through the thick, crackling energy. "Do you still stock that sage spray? Grandma can't burn sage anymore because of her lungs."

Greg seemed grateful for the pivot. "Of course. Follow me."

I slipped out from under Rayne's arm and walked with Greg across the shop to a small wooden stand lined with bottles. Each was neatly labeled with scrawling white ink: Sage & Cedar, Lavender & Rue, Black Salt Protection. I picked one up, rolling it between my fingers, trying to steady myself.

But Greg's eyes were fixed on me, sharp with curiosity. He leaned in a little, his voice dropping low. "So... are you and Roy serious? Your grandma said he's only been around for, what, five minutes?"

My hand tensed around the glass bottle. I nearly dropped it. Heat flooded my cheeks as my eyes darted past Greg's shoulder. Rayne stood by the counter, his hand gripping the back of my chair so tightly his knuckles had gone bone white. His dark eyes were locked on us, unreadable—but the power simmering under his skin was impossible to miss. He could absolutely hear every word.

I swallowed. "It's... complicated," I admitted, the words thin and brittle. It was the most honest answer I could give. Rayne and I were bound together by magic, not by anything soft or tender. He played the jealous lover well enough, but only because it served his purposes. He was a demon, and I was his anchor to this world. Love wasn't part of it. Couldn't be. Even if his kisses still burned across my lips.

Greg must've seen something flicker in my expression. His features softened, the playful glint giving way to something almost tender. "Hey, look—have the spray on the house, alright? Consider it a gift."

"No, really, I can pay—" I reached for my purse, but Greg's hand was already waving me off.

"Skyler," Greg said, warm and earnest, "take it. Just... think about the job, okay? You'd be a huge asset. And honestly... I think you'd be happy here."

I managed a small, grateful smile, clutching the bottle a little too tightly. Meanwhile, I could practically feel Rayne's stare scorching into my back—heavy, possessive, unsettling. I thanked Greg quickly and excused myself.

Outside, Rayne opened the door for me, but not without shooting Greg a withering look over his shoulder. As soon as we stepped into the cool air of the alleyway, he slid his sunglasses back onto his head, jaw tight.

"Well," he drawled, "that was fun."

"They were nice people. It was a nice store," I shot back, hugging the bottle of sage spray to my chest.

"That troll was practically dry humping you," Rayne snapped, dripping acid.

"He was being nice," I countered, glaring at him.

"By asking if we were serious?" He let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Right. Clearly a sign of pure, selfless hospitality."

"Oh, like you don't have ulterior motives for half the nice things you do," I fired back before I could stop myself.

I felt my frustration twist into something almost guilty. Because...part of me wanted to accept the job. Part of me liked the normalcy of it—a friendly face, a steady job, a chance to build something that wasn't tangled up in hellfire and black magic.

But another part, the darker, shameful part, had thrilled at Rayne's reaction. At his jealousy. At the way his hand found my waist, possessive, reminding me who I belonged to.

Rayne's eyes darkened, his smile turning into something sharp. He stepped closer, invading my space so completely I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. "Careful, little witch. I'm the only reason you're alive and able  bat your lashes at half-breeds."

Heat flared through me, equal parts thrill and irritation. "I didn't bat my lashes," I muttered.

"You might as well have." His hand brushed my waist—possessive, claiming. "Next time, keep in mind whose bond keeps you safe."

I pulled away from his grip, my pulse hammering for reasons I couldn't even untangle. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten."