The stranger looked towards Jane’s work table. “What are you brewing in your cauldron?” He sniffed. “It smells like fermented toads.”
“Close.” She smiled. “It’s a potion to fix men. Care to try some?”
“I’m Jane Black,” she said, waving her hand around the store. “And, this is my business.”
The man looked around the room. “A full-service sorcery.”
“You got it.”
As he took a step closer to her, his supernatural presence hummed in the air between them. Seven-feet of toned muscle looked down on her. His silver hair had been pulled back into a braid, revealing a roughly hewn face covered with just enough scruff to make her mind wander and her heart skip a beat.
“Are you a griffin?” she said. That would explain why he smelled like mountain air. She had only met one, and he had been a giant of a man in human form just like this guy.
"No," the visitor said. "Tell me, Ms. Black, what do you think your store can accomplish.”
“I help people,” said Jane. He was too bulky to be fae. Her scalp didn’t tingle the way it did when she encountered a warlock, and her third-eye didn’t twitch the way it should if he were a witch. “Are you a gargoyle?”
“No.” His eyes, blacker than night, wandered over her body, lingering on her breasts and coming to a complete stop on her lips. “My name is Leos.”
Her female parts thrummed. If only she had an off-switch for her libido. "Can I help you in some way? I'm a …"
“Psychic enchantress,” the man finished her sentence. “I can only imagine your skills.”
“I got it. You’re a shifter mix with a side of cockiness.”
"Almost," he said, folding his arms. "But I'm pureblood, sweetheart. You’ll learn there’s nothing diluted about me.”