Eighty-four:
Deacon Foy
Magic. That was the only word that Deacon could think of as he lay, panting beside Larissa after having slept with her. His whole body ached, but it was different from the way it usually did. Behind a ranch hand, he was used to pain. He had to fix fences, herd cows, and take care of horses. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t doing some kind of heavy lifting. But s*x with Larissa, f*****g Larissa, was…. the best damn thing that he had ever done in all of his twenty-something years.
Maybe that said more about him. But he didn’t care. Larissa was beautiful, powerful witch and she was all his. At that moment, she was naked, and sweaty, and resting her head against his chest. She had asked about his scars, and he should have told her, but he didn’t thin
