The Magic Queen by Jovee Winters Page A

unflinchingly. “Baba Yaga.”
    Now that name did make his heart stutter. There were few witches in all the realms as powerful as this one claimed to be. Looking at her with new eyes, he murmured, “Baba—”
    “Yaga! Yes,” she snapped, giving him a defiant look that made him realize she truly could be none other. “Changed your mind yet, male?” She lifted an arch brow, and his flesh tingled,
    He paused introspectively. Hmm , he’d never experienced flesh tingling before. Interesting. It’d felt...good. He’d need to study that sensation further. Planting a hand to his chest, he bowed deeply and intoned, “Freyr. Though you may call me Frey.”
    If he’d expected a dawning light of recognition to rush through the bright greens of her eyes, he’d have been sorely disappointed. Her look was as blasé now as it’d been previously.
    “Awesome.” Her pretty lips thinned.
    His nostrils flared, and laughter caught on the back of his tongue. “Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”
    “So they send me the god of fellatio. Who the hell do those women think I am?”
    Blasting out a laugh, he wrapped his arm around his stomach and thundered his hilarity to the winds. “Did you really just call me that?”
    It was the way she’d said it that had undone him.
    Baba watched him dispassionately, but there a definite note of humor danced through her eyes.
    “And don’t think I don’t know who you are, old witch.”
    “Notorious, am I?”
    Allowing his gaze to travel suggestively up and down her body, he smirked when her fists curled—unaffected, his arse—and he snorted. “Even among my own people, we’ve heard of the iron-toothed one, though I confess, you look nothing like the tales.”
    Twisting her lips, she returned to studying the ground, stooping to pick up rocks as large of her palm and tossed them around the fire. “Oh, I did. Stringy hair. Loose skin. Moles.”
    With each word, his nose curled with disgust. Gods, that was unattractive.
    “Liver spots. Rheumy eyes. A rather camel-like hump on my back.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Oh, yes, I’m rather vile in my other form.”
    She sounded proud of it. He lifted a brow. “So the old crone changed her skin just for me. I suppose I should be flattered.”
    “Please.” She tossed another rock at the fire.
    He realized she was creating a ring with them to shelter the flame and not to let it spread. His brain told him the sexy woman before him was probably a mirage, but she was one sexy mirage. He could do worse. Picking up some rocks, he helped her to finish the circle.
    “So then why are you so changed, love?”
    Her lips thinned, and his twitched.
    “I mean, Baba.”
    She rolled her eyes but answered him anyway. “I’m slave to the thrice moon. The crone is merely only one of my forms.”
    Surprised that she’d actually deigned to answer him, he nodded.
    “I know what that is. The maiden. The mother. The crone. But I thought you had sisters.” If he wasn’t mistaken, and he never was, she seemed impressed.
    But she shook her head. “The tales are greatly exaggerated. The truth is, I’m three forms in one, but I suppose it’s easier for those not in the know to assume I’m three separate people since my looks differ greatly from moon to moon.”
    “Which form do you prefer most?”
    Normally, he’d not care about the answer, but he found himself enjoying their little tête-à-tête , and truth be told, he was curious now that he’d asked it. He studied her.
    “What?” she snapped when he said nothing. Her fingers flitted along the square neckline of her peasant’s gown.
    The nervous gesture tugged a smile to his lips. “Will you not answer my question, love?”
    Her look was droll. “Since you cannot seem to comprehend anything I say to you anyway, no, I won’t. Why don’t you tell me what you think I prefer?”
    A teasing light touched her features, and he nodded. “Challenge accepted.”
    Studying her intently, he pieced