Bewitching Jolene (Book 3) Jacobs Broken Mercenaries

chapter 2

Jolene

Damn its hot.

The tepid water feels good on my head. It never got this hot in Germany. Even though I loathe rain, I think I prefer it to thirty-four-degree Celsius weather. This is just disgusting. I’ve been told today’s high is slightly above average for Minneapolis in July, so I better get used to it.

I turn my head to the side, looking over my shoulder.

There’s that feeling again, like I’m being watched. I look around but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. It’s the same few runners I’m used to seeing, and not a soul is even looking at me. I must not be used to a big city because I can’t shake that feeling at times.

Brushing it off, I get back on the track. If I don’t get at least thirty minutes of vigorous activity a day, there’s no chance I’m sleeping. I could just do a spell, but then the lag sucks.

Setting my chemistry book on the table, I hanker down for an all-nighter. I’ve got a final tomorrow, and sadly, this one counts… My stomach grumbles a half hour in, and I get up in search of carbs. There’s nothing in this dimly lit box they call a room except for a three-day-old, stale pop tart. I stare at the crusty thing, laying on the edge of my dust covered desk. The coffee shop it is. I check my cell; it’s only seven-thirty. If it's slow tonight, I can be back by eight.

The sun is lower in the sky, and I can feel the change in the atmosphere. Any shifts in the earth give me small charges of energy. Think of it like a shot of caffeine straight to the bloodstream, stroking each and every nerve. Yeah, like that. It's euphoric. Not that I would know anything about ecstasy, the sensation, not the drug. Actually, I don’t know anything about the drug either.

I’ve got to be the most boring nineteen-year-old on campus. I don’t drink, don’t do drugs, and I’m a freaking virgin. Well, I’ve done other things, lots of other things. I had an unofficial boyfriend back in Germany. His name was Noah. He had blonde hair and a rocking bod. Noah was kind of weird, though, shaving all his body hair off. He said he was getting used to it. That he was going to be a bodybuilder. Personally, I found it weird. He had a germ phobia, so the hair was just the tip of the iceberg.

One night, we both got wasted and started fooling around. He dared me to; you know... go down on him, and I did. This was a big deal for me. See, my aunt raised me. My mother's death is a secret even I don’t know how or when she passed, and I have no memories of her. I’m not sure if my memories were taken, or she passed before I could form any. I have my suspicions. What I’ve heard is that she was a powerful witch from a long line, and it was magic that killed her. Pretty vague, I know. As for my dad, that’s an even bigger mystery. Anyway, my aunt Mathilda was the wild child, and because of that, I had to be the safe kid.

That night, I had no idea what I was doing. I was fifteen at the time. In Germany, we call it a blowjob, so I thought… "Yeah, I put my lips around it and blew." Noah was so wasted he didn’t really know the difference, but that’s when I decided alcohol and me don’t suit each other. It may have made me bold, but it made me senseless, too. My inexperience embarrassed me that night. Since then, I’ve bought a thousand cosmopolitan magazines and I’ve learned a lot. Call it prep or wishful thinking, but the next guy I’m interested in is in for a surprise.

The coolest part about me is the one thing I have to keep hidden, like a dirty secret. My aunt only let me go to college because I promised to not even think about magic while I’m here, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. I’ve been practicing my skills. It's not like I have a roommate to catch me. It's completely safe.

As I enter the coffee shop, the smell of fresh scones and strong brewed coffee has me drooling. There’s a bit of a lineup, but it's worth it.

I’m standing behind a middle-aged man when I’m suddenly poked by a firm object. Turning, I spot the culprit. Mrs. can’t be bothered, is gesturing wildly. Her pursed, shiny, pink lips moving a mile a minute; causing her Louis Vuitton to jab against my back, shoulder, and head.