Arrhythmia’s a lot.
And if you’re new here—like Megan is—a lot doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Try a Texas-sized supernatural smorgasbord where curses outnumber street signs and ghosts have permanent zip codes.
But instead of panicking, instead of tucking tail or hyperventilating over her coffee, my little Jersey Girl leans that gorgeous, unshakeable ass on the edge of my desk and stares down a literal witch and warlock like they’re just a PTA meeting she didn’t RSVP to.
“So,” Megan says, calm as you please, “what can you tell us about the Crypts?”
But then—of course—she turns to me, narrowing her eyes like she just caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.Which she kinda did.
“Wait.Did the Sorceress bring baked goods?”
I try not to laugh.“She always does.It’s part of the ritual.”
“Ritual?”she echoes, like she’s not sure if I’m screwing with her.
“She bakes before battle.Calms her nerves,” I explain, just as Delilah sprints by clutching two cookies to her chest like she’s smuggling gold.
Megan’s eyes widen.“Should I be concerned she’s doing a whole Betty Crocker goes to Hell thing before a demonic site inspection?”
“Yes,” Preacher deadpans, “but they’re damn good cookies.”
Before she can process that, I break off a chunk of mine and press it to her lips.
She blinks.Then chews.
Then, through a full mouth, “Circle back.Did you just say battle?”
I shrug.“Figure of speech.”
Esmerelda chooses that moment to chime in, serene and spine-chilling.“I also brought Hellfire magic.And a sacrificial dagger.”
Megan stares.“Of course you did.”
I sip my coffee.“That’s what we call balance here in Texas.”
“You gonna do the hokey Sheriff thing now?Tip your hat and say,‘Ma’am, I do declare this town haunted?’”
“Now you’re just making fun of me.”
Megan exhales like she’s trying to suppress a scream.I watch her carefully.Wait to see if I’ve pushed too hard.
But then—she snorts.
One sharp, disbelieving laugh.Like a pressure valve releasing just enough steam to keep her upright.
She’s not panicking.
Not my girl.Nah.She’s in it.
She tucks a curl behind her ear, straightens her spine, and faces our little supernatural task force like she’s been doing this all her life.
Goddamn, I’m proud.
This woman—this psychic, curvy, kiss-swollen badass who mated a territorial Wolf Shifter less than twelve hours ago—is rolling with curses and Hellmouth logistics like she’s part of the team.
No.Like she’s leading it.
