Page 11 of Bitten By the Basilisk

After her facial, her next stop was the salon on the second floor, where Cynthia gave her a manicure while a witch trimmed and styled her hair with bespelled tools.

Alice normally kept her nails quite short, but the first clear coat Cynthia applied grew them to medium length before her very eyes. It didn’t hurt, but it felt really weird. As for the color, she didn’t end up having to choose. The polish Cynthia applied could change color at will.

“Of course, normies don’t get the special polish,” Cynthia said as she worked on Alice’s other hand. She then lifted her head, meeting Alice’s gaze, and winked. “Supes only.”

Alice’s first instinct was to argue that she barely counted, but she refrained. It felt good to be included. Really good. And unexpected.

“You look fabulous, sweetheart!” her mom raved, returning from her other tasks. Her stylist stood back with a proud smile while her mom stroked and fluffed her rejuvenated hair, which now looked as soft and healthy as Cynthia’s. And somehow longer than before.

“Gina’s very talented,” Alice said, meeting her stylist’s gaze in the mirror.

“True,” Gina smugly agreed, eliciting a round of laughter.

“Can’t get results like this in Chicago,” Mom pointed out.

Alice held on to her smile even as her joy waned. “I’ll be sure to enjoy it while I can.”

Disappointment flickered across Mom’s affectionate expression. “I have one more facial appointment. Then maybe we can enjoy the steam bath together?”

“Okay,” she agreed, guilt pressing on her heart. “Oh, but what about my hair?”

“I’ll put it up for you,” Gina offered. “The conditioner I put in earlier will protect it from the humidity.”

She nodded. “Thanks, everyone.” To her mom, she said, “You were right. I do feel like a whole new person.” She hadn’t felt so relaxed nor so pretty in a long time. Her hair fell in photo-shoot-ready waves and smelled like vanilla, and her skin looked practically airbrushed.

Cynthia patted her hand, the polish already dry. “You’ll have to let us know how many compliments you get.”

“And take every opportunity to recommend us,” Gina added. “I still have a few openings this week.”

Alice laughed. “Done.”

Chapter Four

Silas

As expected, both his father and Conrad were displeased to learn Silas had no intention of courting Regina. However, his father backed down upon learning she was underage, and without Gabriel on his side, Conrad ceased his campaign. Silas hoped that meant Regina would be allowed to leave Indigo Cove and return to class.

The gathering lasted until Father’s special bourbon ran out. It took a lot for his kind to get plastered, but Conrad and Gabriel were both slurring by the time Silas saw them escorted to their private quarters and retreated to his apartment, where he changed into a casual black pullover and dark-gray jeans.

In addition to a high alcohol tolerance, his kind had enormous appetites, so despite sampling several rounds of hors d’oeuvres at the party, he headed to his gourmet kitchen to whip up a meal.

Every area of his home offered luxury and comfort, and the kitchen was no exception. The slate-gray floor was heated, the dark marble countertops expansive, the lighting warm but focused only where it was needed. He owned every possible implement and appliance, all top-of-the-line, and his fridge and pantry were always stocked with staples and seasonal produce.

He enjoyed selecting the best ingredients, combining flavors in novel ways, mastering new techniques, and perfecting every stage of execution from precise knife skills to manipulating heat for the best texture and taste, to artful plating. He especially enjoyed feeding others the dishes he made—their surprise and pleasure.

In another life, he would have chosen a culinary degree over business school, but as Basilisk, what use would that have been to the nest and its prosperity?

An hour later, he sat down to a meal consisting of chicory salad topped with green goddess dressing, lamb ragu risotto, salsa verde drizzled over wagyu steak and charred onion, and a generous serving of bucatini carbonara.

He would have made dessert while digesting his meal, but he didn’t have enough time before his appointment at Renart Salon and Spa. Instead, he prepared two additional plates that he left covered on his island counter, texted Nic and Bruno to let themselves in later to eat what he’d made, and headed down to the parking garage in his motorcycle jacket.

His phone buzzed just as he swung his leg over his bike, having received a selfie from Nic of him and Bruno already digging in to their meals. Bruno’s cheeks were stuffed, the corner of his mouth smeared with salsa verde.

Silas smiled wryly at how quickly they’d responded to his invitation, his heart warmed by their enthusiasm. He then noticed the two open bottles of his favorite imported beer by their plates and grumbled at their audacity.

I expect you to replace those beers, he texted back.

Nic replied with a salute emoji.