“And you’re sure of this, how?” He leans over me, looking into my eyes, obviously trying to intimidate me.

I look right back and frown at him. “Besides getting a degree in herbology and horticulture? An entire lifetime spent in this shop, learning the properties of every known herb at my mother and aunt’s knee. Believe me Mr…”

“James,” he says, drawing back marginally. “Aiden James.”

“Believe me, Mr. James,” I said, ignoring his offered hand. “If a witch of my lineage tells you not to put rue in your love potion, you’d better pay attention.”

“It’s not a love potion,” he says, frowning at me. “None of this is about love. I just need to find the right one.”

“The right one for what?” I demand.

“None of your business, nosey little witch.” He glares at me frostily. “You don’t need to know.”

That’s technically true but I don’t like being insulted in my own store. Well, my family’s store but it feels like mine since I run it. “That’s it.” I point to the door. “You can leave now if you want to be rude.”

“Is that so?” He leans forward again and bares white, even teeth. To my surprise, I see two long, curving fangs where a normal male’s canine teeth would be. Holy crap—he’s a vampire! I’m stunned and more than a little afraid—I’ve never seen one who could hide it so well. He’s scary as shit but still, I endeavor to hold my ground.

“Yes,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking too much. “That’s so.”

“Are you threatening to kick me out of your store?” he demands.

“If I have to.” I may not be a powerful vampire or even a practicing witch but we do have some pretty effective 'leave me alone' type spells already made up in aerosol cans like magical mace. They come in handy for a lot of witches who, as I said before, like to sleep around. Sometimes a guy gets clingy and you need an out. Of course, I have no idea if they would work on a vamp but it looks like I’m about to find out. Slowly, surreptitiously, I reach under the counter for an aerosol can full of the distilled warding spell.

Aiden James still looks furious. “You should learn to treat your customers with more respect,” he growls in a soft, menacing voice. “Were you mine, you’d be severely punished for such a display.”

“Well I’m not yours,” I point out, my hand tightening on the smooth cylinder of magical mace.

“A great pity,” he snaps. “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than teaching you a lesson, little witch. You’re badly in need of some discipline.”

I can’t believe him. What kind of caveman is he, anyway?