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“No. You're thinking like she's something to acquire.”

“She's my promised.”

Megan winces. Annabeth closes her eyes.

Owen mutters, “You're making it worse.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to say it?”

“Try Belinda is the woman I love,” Megan says.

The entire room goes silent.

My Devil goes still.

Love.

I stare at her.

“I—”

“Oh, come on,” Delilah says from behind the desk. “You flew into a tree.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

Annabeth nods sagely.

“Fox girl has a point.”

Delilah beams. Megan studies me.

“Do you love her?”

The question shouldn't terrify me. I've already admitted it to myself.

Hell, I’ve fought Monsters.

Faced down Demons.

Corporate boards.

My grandmother.

But admitting in front of everyone that I’m in love?

Fuck.

I think of cinnamon and honey.

Warm brown eyes.

Pumpkin-spice muffins.

Ninety-seven disgusting pizzas.

A stubborn Witch standing in a falling-apart house and daring the whole world to tell her she couldn't make it work.