Slade’s smile sharpens. “The curse is reacting to us.”
“Then STOP beingso—so—”
“Devastatingly attractive?”
“ANNOYING.”
He chuckles low. “Sweetheart, I wasbornannoying.”
“Born annoying,” I mutter. “And built like a temptation trap.”
His eyes gleam. “You think I’m built well?”
“I am NOT answering that.”
“You just did.”
This can’t be happening. A soft rattle comes from the shop floor outside the back-room door. Just one. Someone murmurs, “Did you feel that?” Someone else gives an uneasy laugh.
Slade’s damn smile goes nuclear, sending a wave of nervous energy bouncing around in my stomach. The lights flicker again. A stack of spell tags flutters off a shelf. A dried herb garland sways like there’s a breeze—though there isn’t. Magic ripples through the room, sharp and electric. Slade steps back slightly, listening. His expression shifts fromamused… to intent. “The curse is mirroring you,” he says.
“Mirroring what?”
“Your emotions,” he clarifies. “They’re unstable. So the curse is unstable.”
“That’s not—I’mnot—unstable—!!”
He lifts a brow slowly.
I sag. “Okay, FINE, I’m unstable!You’redestabilizing!”
Slade actually looks pleased. “If I affect you that much, maybe you should reconsider fighting the bond.”
“The bond can eat my ass.”
A pause. Averyheavy pause. Slade tilts his head. Dead serious. “…Is that an invitation?”
“NO—Slade STOP—WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS—”
From the shop floor, a patron calls gently through the curtain, “Everything okay back there?”
I slam my palm over my face. Slade leans in, mouth inches from mine, eyes burning green fire. “This town is very supportive.”
“Get. Away,” I groan.
“Say it nicely.”
“I will STILL hex your dick.”
He laughs. “Stillnota deterrent.”
I shove him again. This time he lets me. He steps back with a little bow. “Your wish, little witch.”
I crack the door open—just barely. The shop looks mostly normal. Just… jittery. A few customers shifting awkwardly. A candle flame fluttering against nonexistent wind. Magic humming faintly under the floorboards. Mrs. Alderberry glances my way, eyes narrowing. “Oh dear,” she murmurs. “You’ve got a glow about you. What happened?”
I slam the door shut. Slade crosses his arms, smug. “You’re welcome.”
“SLAAADE.”
