Hexed

house again and again. The brick walls shook. Tiny cracks crisscrossed Hiromi’s body. She charged the house again and her body burst. Ichor drenched the wall. The remains of the jorōgumo slid down and lay still.
    A sickly salty smell hit us.
    “That’s a hell of a thing,” Jim said.
    He came for me again. He could barely move, but he dragged himself up and threw himself at an enraged demon for my sake. It was enough to make a girl cry. Except that now the danger had passed and my head was clear. I knew I was reading too much into it.
    “What did you do to her?” he asked.
    “I couldn’t curse her directly, so I wrote a contract with a curse in it. She signed it with her ichor,” I said. “She gave it power over herself, and when she broke the agreement, it tore her apart.”
    “And the petals?”
    “Chrysanthemums.” I smiled and rested my cheek on his shoulder. “The punishment curse written into the contract. They produce pyrethrum oil. It’s deadly to insects and arachnids : It attacks their central nervous system, drives them mad, and then kills them.”
    We looked at the yellow mess on the side of the house.
    “My mother is going to kill me,” I said.
     
    I TOOK THE metal teakettle off the stove and poured boiling water into the smaller ceramic one. The delicate jasmine fragrance spread through my kitchen. Around me my house was quiet.
    It had taken two days to clean up my mother’s house. For two days I did nothing but scrub nasty demonic spider insides off the walls, the benches, and the rocks while Jim got to eat great food and be fussed over by my mother. Last night he got better and left. I spent the night at my mother’s and then came back to my place. The mail had piled up. Pooki probably missed me, although he didn’t say anything when I came to check on him in the garage.
    It was evening now. I poured the tea and sat on my short couch.
    I’d made a total fool of myself. I had kissed Jim and then I hugged him. So embarrassing. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember.
    That’s what happened when you let your emotions get the better of you—you lost the ability to think clearly. Sooner or later we would have to work together. It would be so awkward. I put my hand over my face. I was by myself in the house and I was still embarrassed.
    Sad, pathetic blind girl drinking her tea and hiding her face. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I needed another race. It would make me feel better. Somewhere in that stack of paper was the estimate from the repair shop. The sooner I gave them the okay, the faster I’d get Rambo back.
    A familiar male scent tugged on me.
    Oh my gods. No. No, no, no, no.
    I took my hand from my eyes.
    He was inside the room, leaning on the wall next to my patio door. He looked great. Like nothing ever happened.
    What do I do now?
    Jim raised a small wicker basket.
    “What’s that?”
    “That’s a steak for me and mushroom pasta for you. The pasta is made with tofu and palm oil instead of eggs. I cooked it myself. My steak is wrapped in several layers of foil. It’s not touching the container with your food, so no worries.”
    Um . . . He made me dinner. He cooked for me. In shapeshifter terms that was like delivering three dozen red roses with a tag that read I LOVE YOU. What in the world was he doing?
    “I thought you might want a change from your mother’s cooking.” Jim grinned. He looked almost unbearably handsome. “Not that it isn’t great, but three days of rice is a little much.”
    “Jim . . .”
    “The problem with being an alpha is that you can never make the first move. Makes you feel like you’re taking advantage of your position. You have to wait until the other person decides they want in.”
    Jim set the basket on the coffee table and crouched by me.
    “And sometimes it seems like that person likes you, and you try to test the waters, so you try to tell her how you feel, that she matters and that you want to be with her and you’re concerned about her safety. And every time you do that, she waves her arms around and accuses you of being a controlling alpha asshole. So you back off and hope you didn’t completely fuck it up.”
    He was close, too close. I just stared at him. What was happening . . . “Why are you telling me this?”
    His voice was low and smooth. “That time when I told you it didn’t matter what your mother thought about your looks . . .”
    “Aha . . .”
    “I meant it,” he said. “Because I think you’re