Evie sauntered into Tamed Wildes, on a mission to hunt down the establishment’s owner. Truthfully, she didn’t want to deal with any witchling underlings. She’d already had dinner with her father’s coven that week, and that was enough witchness to last her a lifetime.
She flashed a wide, deceptively innocent smile when she found Delia. “Look who it is! My gala protector. Or at least, my would be protector.” Never mind that Delia had explicitly said she wouldn’t use her magic to hurt anyone. Circling around the area, Evie ran her fingers over all the surfaces, examining each and over thing for sale. “I’m looking for a rather specific product. Think you might be able to help, witchling?” // @runningwildes









