Free How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days by Saranna DeWylde Page A

tight like rubber bands.
    “At home, I imagine. Sleeping like any normal warlock would be at this hour of the night.” Her irritation was rising and her other hand made it to her hip.
    “Dred Shadowins. Butcher of Shale Creek?” Hawk’s nostrils flared and his jaw ticked.
    “He is not.” Not that Middy knew anything about it, but she felt the need to defend him. She almost cringed because when they “broke up” and ended that little charade, it would all come back to bite her in the ass with really sharp teeth. It would be a chorus of “I told you so” and pitying looks; not only that, but the breakup would forever and ir-revocably seal her fate in their eyes.
    This would make it obvious to them that she couldn’t be trusted to manage her own life. If Middy thought they were a pain in the ass now, after this debacle, they weren’t even going to let her have tampons for fear of poking out her eye.
    “Oh, no, Middy. No.” Raven’s hand fluttered to his chest like an English miss.
    “No, what?” she demanded.
    “You’re serious,” Raven whined.
    “As a heart attack.” She grinned. Middy was enjoying his discomfort.
    “I thought this had to be some sort of joke,” he whimpered again. “I knew we shouldn’t have let her get that magazine. I told you no good would come of it.”
    “What do you mean by ‘let me’?” Middy’s ire was raised now and her hair began to stand on end as her power gathered around her.
    “Uh, Raven,” Hawk started.
    “What, you didn’t think we knew about your dirty little magazine? I told them that we should . . .”
    Raven was promptly cut off as a Cornish hen flew from Middy’s freezer and tried to work its way into his mouth, seemingly of its own volition.
    “The magazine was Mom’s idea,” Hawk offered.
    “What?” she shrieked again.
    He opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it as he watched Raven trying to battle the Cornish hen’s stubby appendages.
    Falcon was ever the voice of reason. “Midnight Marie, behave yourself. We’re just here to take care of you.”
    “When are you going to realize that I don’t need you to take care of me?”
    “Now that you’ve got Dred to do it?” Falcon said, rolling his eyes.
    “No. Now that I am a woman grown. If I need your help, I will damn well ask for it.”
    “It was Mom’s idea anyway,” Raven said as the hen dropped lifelessly to the ground. “She’s the one that got you that subscription, but I swear if any of us knew that you were going to fall in love with the centerfold . . .”
    “Why didn’t you tell us, Mids?” Hawk interrupted, giving her his best impression of a kicked puppy.
    “I didn’t know myself until last night.” Middy didn’t feel bad for that one because it was true.
    “If you want to have a fling with Shadowins, by all means. But do you have to marry him?” Hawk asked.
    “Look, it was all very sudden. Tristan couldn’t keep his hands to himself and . . .”
    The three of them puffed again like balloons at the mention of Belledare pawing her.
    “There were reporters at the Masque, it turned into this whole thing and . . . Why weren’t any of you at the Masque?”
    This drew a collective silence from the trio.
    “I see.”
    “We’re here to talk about you,” Hawk said.
    “You keep saying that. I suppose you may as well come in.” She spun on her heel. “And you’d better magick my door back hale and hearty if you want to keep your mouth free of dancing hens and used cat litter.”
    A plain, not to mention ugly, steel door replaced the gaping entryway where her brothers had stood.
    “ My door! The one carved by elvish hands with the ancient sigils.”
    “Why couldn’t they have impressed the symbols on steel?” Falcon asked.
    “That would be safer,” Hawk added.
    “Because they carved them into Holy Oak. Now!” Middy demanded. She was about to invoke the kitty litter. . . .
    Her door appeared hale and hearty just as she’d demanded