Creep even popped in occasionally to check on me, which was... nice. I guessed.
It was a little eerie, thinking of her as a protector instead of a mischief-maker. And while it was probably better on the whole to have a sentient house thatactuallydid its job of looking after us instead of hiding rotten rat tails in my food, I had grown accustomed to that side of her. I could live without the eyebrow shaving, sure. But her more innocent pranks had become a source of amusement for me.
As her little feet pitter-pattered out of the kitchen once more, finishing another of her almost-silent security laps of the house, I felt my lips tighten. Not even a pan dropped onto the counter to scare the shit out of me.
Urgh. I couldn’t believe I was already missing that side of her.
With a huff, I turned back to my cauldron. The first batch of Wailing Whirls—currently discarded in their silicone molds behind me—weren’t quite right. The rue had certainly done its job, but a little too well. The whirls were meant to induce a banshee-like wail that lasted only a few seconds, but I had a feeling that batch would have the user sobbing for hours.
The batch I was working on now had a touch less rue, and I had a good feeling about it.
I waved my wrist, and the stirring rod swirled itself. Now that I’d gotten the measurements right, there was nothing to do until it was time to pour the mixture into the molds.
Which meant I finally had to address the gnawing weight of Blaise’s parting words as he’d hurried out of the kitchen last night.
Maybe we could have a little chat.
Yeah. There was a hell of a lot to chat about.
Like the damn rubber band he kept snapping around his wrist. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he did it every time his thoughts drifted back to the person he still harbored feelings for.
The fact that it happened so often was worrying.
The fact that it happened while we were intimate for the first time wasworrying.
But perhaps most worrying of all was the fact that I wasn’t angry with him.
I should be. I should be ripping the copper pans from their hooks and hurling them across the room in rage. I should be marching straight up to him, demanding that he either forget about the other person or get out of my house.
Instead, all I felt was guilt.
Guilt that I hadn’t summoned him sooner—beforehe’d fallen in love with someone else. Guilt that I’d hired him so soon after his heart had been broken. Guilt that I’d slept with him because my body had selfishly wanted it, even knowing part of him was still with another.
Guilt that I didn’t know how to help him heal.
And guilt that, despite knowing he was going through something emotionally monumental, I was left with the quiet, aching sense that something was missing between us.
A low, harrowing sob tore me from my thoughts.
My body reacted before my mind caught up.
My mate.
My heart slammed into my throat. Panic surged through my veins, my head swimming as my body moved on instinct alone—seeking him, needing to soothe, to calm... to maim whoever had made that sound tear from him.
I didn’t remember crossing the house. One moment I was in the kitchen, the next my legs were carrying me into the living room so fast it might as well have been teleportation.
I was halfway across the room before I noticed Creep and froze. My gaze bounced between her and Blaise as understanding dawned on me.
Blaise was slumped in the armchair, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes red-rimmed, fingers pinching his lips as he fought back another wail. Opposite him, Creep sat on the table, quivering with silent laughter.
At her feet sat a small bowl, containing batch one of the Wailing Whirls.
And I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past my lips.
Mostly from the relief that nothing terrible had happened to my mate. But part of it, too, was the quiet reassurance that Creep hadn’t lost her mischievous streak after all. And from how heartbreakingly cute Blaise looked, clearly baffled by why he’d suddenly turned into a banshee.
His eyes, an impossible bright gold against the red, tear-stained whites, snapped to mine. A small furrow had settled between his brows as he tried his best to stay composed, even while his lips strained against his pinched fingers.
