I wasn’t a Brat Tamer, I was a Countess Domesticator.

Their last full moon together leads to more transformations than just the wolf girl’s.

Just because He was death itself didn’t mean He didn’t deserve to be loved. 

Could the man who had taken me on a cozy bookstore date really be the same man who had ruthlessly eaten my brains right out of my head?

The bed was floating and witches were real apparently and I was having the best sex of my life. My brain couldn’t for the life of me figure out which detail to focus on.

I was being taken advantage of by Mothman. And he was fucking good at it.

“I invited you to come inside,” I told him, waving the condom at him, “Not come inside.”