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don’t know how you do it, but you’ve managed to pack
about ten feet of pain in my ass into a beautiful five-foot-four package.
Boggles the mind.” His voice was soft, affectionate and it had her heart
skipping a beat.
    “I wanted to ask you something,” she said.
    He opened his hands, making a sweeping motion in a gesture
for her to go right on and ask away.
    “I want—” She stopped mid-sentence.
    She batted her lashes. Her mouth opened and then closed. It
was now or never. Samhain was in two days. This was what she’d been saving
herself for. There were a select few things a witch needed to inherit her
magic—a bridge to access the powers of her ancestors—in other words—Samhain,
her familiar and most importantly, giving her virginity to her familiar before
her twenty-first birthday.
    Now or never. The next time she blinked, she kept her
eyes closed and went for it. “Trent, you need to be my first.”

Chapter Four
     
    The sweet smell of Brenda’s perfume made Trent’s stomach
roil. He hated perfume. The closer she got, the more distracting it became. He
turned his head, nose tracking the scent so he could avoid it.
    He barely heard Sam over the noise in the bar.
    “First what?” he asked absently.
    He was no longer looking at her. No, he was distracted by
the way Brenda swayed through the room, her giggling laughter trailing behind
her. Where she went, people stared.
    There was something about her besides her breasts and
god-awful perfume that commanded attention. She wasn’t even that attractive,
not to him at least. Sam’s best friend came to a pause at their table and
flashed him a full smile. She bent ever so slightly. If he wanted, which he
didn’t, he would have been able to see down her low-cut leotard. The sharp,
angry press of Sam’s magic forced his head in her direction. Brenda set a
longneck in front of him and pressed her full, round breasts into his arm. Sam
glared at her roommate, as if silently telling her to go away. The point wasn’t
taken.
    From his wrist up, Brenda trailed her ruby nails along his
arm to his neck. Back and forth, his jaguar paced. The longer he was exposed to
her scent, the more agitated he was becoming. Before she could caress his
throat, he grabbed her wrist. She hadn’t earned that right. He tightened his
fingers around her arm.
    What was meant to deter her only turned her on even more.
Her scent took on a musky aroma. Without waiting for an invitation, she slid
onto his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck. He was going to throw up.
Brenda exhaled a warm breath against his ear. The hand she placed on his chest
felt as hot as Sam’s glare and he didn’t dare look at the waitress.
    Brenda leaned in close and brushed her lips along his lobe.
When Sam had done that, it had sent a spark straight to his groan. The curvy
redhead didn’t render the same reaction. If that bothered her, it didn’t show.
    “You know I love it when you get all aggressive,” Brenda
purred. She fingered the butt of his weapon. “My, my, your gun is big.”
    He gave an uneasy chuckle and unthreaded her arm from around
his neck. At least this way he could breathe. “You know I adore you, Brenda,
but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
    Flashing a pout that would have made a weaker man beg, she
turned her head to Sam. He’d never seen Sam look so pissed. This time, though,
the anger was directed at him. What had he done?
    “Run through your own species already?” Sam bit out, grabbed
the whiskey and took a long, suffocating swig. Man, she was going to be sorry
in the morning.
    When Brenda laughed, her curves shook against him. She
quirked an eyebrow and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“Jealous?”
    Trent looked back and forth between them, as if he were
watching a Ping-Pong match. He wondered if the gleam in his eyes said he was
hoping the ball would fall onto the floor and they would wrestle for it. Brenda
was bigger, but his money was on