“Yes. I did a spell—by accident—and it sends me into a book. The cat in the book must have gotten caught in the tree so that the main characters could meet while undressed.”
“Well, I don’t like it. I’m not an incompetent climber.”
“You’re an inside cat, and I adopted you from the shelter as a kitten. You’ve never climbed a tree.” I don’t remind her about her curtain-climbing phase. She grew out of it a couple of years ago, and I never want to go back. Her claws would positively shred all of my new curtains.
“That doesn’t matter.” Princess Buttercup lifts her chin regally. “If I climbed a tree, you can be assured I’d do it the right way and not get stuck.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud, teethdigging in as my shoulders shake. She’s so adorably sure of herself.
“Anyway, you’re a powerful witch. I’m glad I picked you all those years ago.”
“Don’t you mean you’re glad I picked you?” I say.
“Hardly.” She trots over and winds around my calves. “You’re not remembering things clearly. You came into the room with several other humans, andIpicked you.”
The tiny animal shelter out by the highway only has enough workers to let people in to adopt a couple of days a week. I visited the cat room in one of the Saturday groups. While the other people headed straight for various cats that caught their eye, I stood in the center of the room, uncertain. Then a tiny ball of calico fluff marched up to me and meowed a demanding squeak. I picked her up, and she nestled against my neck, showing off her extra-loud purr for the first time. And just like that, I was a goner, already in love.
“You’re right.” I crouch to give her some chin scratches. “You totally picked me. Thank you.”
She nudges her head into my hand and gives her signature purr, the happiness of the sound still one of my favorite things in the world.
Pounding rattles my front door, making us both jump.
“Skye,” Luke bellows.
“Snickerdoodle!” I jump to my feet. “How did he get here so fast?”
“Is that the smoky man?” Princess Buttercup asks. “I like him. He’s warm.”
He pounds some more, the thumps echoing throughmy small cottage until it sounds as if he’ll break down the wooden door. Fae are so much stronger than humans, he very well might, whether he means to or not.
I race to the front entry, stopping only to throw on my winter coat, belting it around me instead of taking the time to do up the buttons. I feel kind of ridiculous wearing heavy wool over lingerie—like a stripper ready to go from zero to sixty with one disrobe—but I can’t handle him seeing me in my camisole and panties in the real world.
Luke, it seems, has zero issues with being just as naked as in the book, because when I throw open the door, he’s wearing sinfully tight brown leather pants and nothing else, not even shoes.
I skitter backward, and he strides forward, his tail lashing out to close the door behind him. My heart gives a skip, then races. It was one thing to be so close to all that bare chest while in my pretend backyard. It’s a completely different thing to be faced with the reality of him here, in the tiny entryway of my home. The real Luke is even larger than the book version, his partially spread wings adding to his size. More than that, there’s the force of his magic—it rolls over me, taking my breath away.
“What was that?” he growls. “I spoke words that weren’t mine. I did things I don’t do!”
Like smile. God, that devastating smile. Too bad he’ll never give me one because he actually wants to.
“Why was it different from the dance lesson?” he snarls. “Why did it take over my body so completely this time?”
“The dance lesson scene didn’t have a lot of couple-specific dialogue. It’s written in a more narrative stylethat summarizes their actions instead of offering a second-by-second description.” I purse my lips. “This most recent scene must have had specific dialogue and actions.” My cheeks heat as I remember the excessive eyelash fluttering. “So we were made to do what the main characters do.”
“Why aren’t you certain about this morning’s scene?”
“I only read the opening part of the book,” I squeak, a little mouse. “I didn’t make it to the cat-in-a-tree scene.”
“Ihatethat scene.” Princess Buttercup saunters past me and winds around Luke’s legs.
“I know you do, sweetie,” I say.
“Wait.” Luke’s golden eyes spear into mine. “The cat is your familiar?”
“You can understand her?” I thought I was the only one who could. From everything I’ve read, it’s part of the witch-familiar bond. Except for Hannah, that is, since her magic gives her the ability to talk to all animals.
“No, but I can tell that you do.” He grunts, his wings settling on his back. “It’s a good sign. It means you’re a powerful enough witch to take control of your magic.”
