But they were already cackling, plotting, and arguing about which dress I should wear to ‘pretend not to care.’I slumped against the back of my chair, muttering under my breath.
“I should’ve joined a quieter coven.”
Zara smiled sweetly. “There’s no such thing. And even if there was, you’re stuck with us.” She sent a wink my way, and I shook my head, pretending to be annoyed when love for them filled me up inside. Even when they were annoying to no end, they were still the best thing that had ever happened to me.
If there was one thing my coven excelled at—aside from hexing our way out of parking fines—it was coordinated mischief.
By sunset, I knew something was wrong. Zara had been humming.Humming.She only did that before full moons, coven ceremonies, and sacrificing me to social events she refused to tell me about.
Floria had been seen chopping a copious amount of vegetables—more than anyone in our coven could eat anyway—while wearing lipstick. Tasia had put on earrings shaped like tiny cauldrons. And Tabitha—sweet ‘I’m just making stew’ Tabitha—had pulled out her treasured enchanted serving ladle.
“Why does the ladle matter?” I asked suspiciously, hovering in the doorway.
“It stirs emotions,” she said. “And occasionally soup.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering where she was going with this. “What emotions?” I figured I had a right to be suspicious, but she waved me off.
“Depends who’s at the table,” she demurred.
And that was when someone knocked at the door. Three slow, deliberate knocks that were heavy enough to make the doorframe shiver in its hinges.
Zara smiled like a cat who’d swallowed a canary and framed it in gold. “Ah. As usual, he’s punctual,” she said, grinning at me.
My heart dropped into my shoes. “You didn’t,” I gasped, stepping in the direction of her bedroom, prepared to dive inside and lock the door.
“I did,” She grinned, just as Floria appeared, standing between me and the bedroom hallway like she’d played contact sports her entire life and was more than prepared to take me on.
Damn these witches and their mind-reading abilities that I didn’t know they had!
“I hate you,” I hissed at them all.
“You’ll thank me at your wedding,” Zara said without even a flinch, the smile still on her lips.
I didn’t have any more time to protest before she opened the door—and revealed the male I’drefusedto visit for the past week.
Savla.
He was freshly showered with faintly damp hair tied back and his shirt sleeves were rolled up thosecursedarms that I couldn’t help drooling over. He looked huge in the doorway, his eyes scanning the chaos of the large apartment like he’d stepped into enemy territory.
He was holding a box in his big hands. A handmade wooden one that was carved perfectly with patterns running along the sides. His eyes met mine and he frowned as if he was surprised to see me before glancing away.
“Uh,” he said slowly, “Zara said there was dinner?”
He looked just as confused as I was. But Zara—damn her and her machinations—clapped her hands together happily.
“Thereis!Come in, Sav.”
He hesitated, then stepped inside. The air shifted immediately. My coven went from rowdy topredatory matchmaking silencein half a second. It was unheard of.
I glared at Zara, hissing low enough that Savla couldn’t hear me. “You told him it was a repair request, didn’t you?”
She winked. “Semantics.”
Floria leaned over to Tasia and whispered—not quietly—“He’s even taller up close.”
Savla cleared his throat. “I can hear you.”
Floria beamed. “Good!” She leaned over to Tabitha. “Excellent hearing. Check it off the list.”
