Witch Hunter Olivia Read Online Free Page A

my legs. “Can we focus on the real reason I’m here, and less on the skirt, please?”
    “The skirt is so much fun to talk about, though,” he laughs. “But if you insist.”
    “I need a touch-up on the masking spell. I may or may not have had a run-in with my brother, and it may or may not have worn off,” I explain sheepishly while moving closer to him.
    “You said his name out loud, didn’t you?” he asks straight out with an eyebrow quirked.
    I groan. “Maybe.”
    “Uh-huh. Come here, let me see,” he says, patting the firm, dark grey leather chair located in his station. It reminds me of one of those massage chairs you see in malls.
    I straddle the chair and lean into it with my back facing out so Heath can examine the tattoo on my right shoulder. His fingers graze the area where the edge of my blouse’s sleeve meets my arm before gently moving the fabric up and over my shoulder. His hands are warm to the touch and leave trails of heat wherever they explore. Since Heath is a Blender (slang for a half-mortal and half-anything paranormal), I don’t get the same pains I have when I’m around a full-blooded witch or warlock. His touch feels like a hot stone massage instead of a brief uncomfortable electric surge. It’s a good thing too, because he has a damn fine set of hands. And don’t even get me started on those lips of his.
    “Is it fixable?” I inquire, still reeling from the warmth of his hands on my skin.
    “Of course it is, but only on one condition.”
    I look back and see his lips stretched into a mischievous grin. “And what would that be exactly?”
    He chuckles. “Tell me the story behind the skirt.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m just kidding. But truthfully, you’ve got to be more careful with this spell. It’s not like I have an infinite supply of this ink, you know?”
    Heath disappears through the open door leading to the back office and returns moments later with a plain wooden box that has no visible opening or even a lock for a key to be inserted. He places it on the metal tray standing next to me before heading over to the front windows of the shop. After closing the blinds, he takes a seat on the stool beside the chair I’m in and places his hand on top of the wooden box. I watch as his hand begins to glow bright white, and then a pentagram-like symbol I recognize from when he did this before appears on the front of the box. A white line of light originating from the symbol traces from it and wraps around the edge of the box before disappearing and leaving behind a seam in the wood. Heath pops it open along the seam and removes a tattoo gun with the name “Lil’ Bastard” on it, along with a vial of golden yellow ink.
    “All right, off with the shirt,” he says while setting up his station.
    I push myself away from the back of the chair and slide my blouse up and over my head. Heath reaches his hand out to take the balled-up garment from me before setting it off to the side and out of the way. I relax and lay back against the chair, preparing for Heath to work his magic.
    The buzz of the tattoo gun fills the air and I wince the moment the needle touches my skin. Getting a tattoo doesn’t really hurt. It’s more annoying than anything—like an itch you can’t scratch. My focus switches from the hum of the gun to Heath’s voice as he softly speaks the masking spell incantation. Who knew that speaking in tongues could sound so sexy?
    “So, who’s the lucky guy?” he asks after he finishes reciting the spell.
    “Hmm?”
    “The one who got you to wear this skirt?”
    “Do I sense a hint of jealousy, Mr. Blakemore?” I ask, grinning against the headrest of the chair.
    “Should I be?”
    I turn to face him when he stops inking me all of a sudden, clearly waiting for my answer. “Oh my God, you are jealous.”
    “No, I’m not,” he replies, turning away to apply more ink onto the tattoo needle.
    “You so are.”
    “What if I am? Can you blame me? Or maybe I’m