Page 75 of Of Magic and Murder

Releasing his arm, I press my hand between his pecs. “So what do we do now? If we’re not taking up the investigation until tomorrow, and you’ve already shown me around your cabin, what’s next?”

Sue me. Part of me is trying to do my mate-ly duty and distract Riordan; I can see how my confession has unnerved him enough, reminding him of those early days when I couldn’t quite hide my discomfort. At the same time, I’m pretty sure I heard his stomach growl earlier. He’s a shifter. Shifters like to eat, and I remember how Honey and Roxy mentioned that the best way to prove to a shifter that you love them is by feeding him.

Riordan might not use the kitchen, but I sure can. However, while he’s gotta be hungry, I’m not so sure it’s food he’s hungering for, especially when his gaze goes heavy-lidded as he says, “I can think of a few things. Even better, we don’t even have to leave the bedroom.”

Heat curls low in my stomach. I grin. “Oh? That so?”

His hand slides beneath the hem of my shirt. He teases my boob, and I flutter out a suddenly aroused breath.

Right. Those sort of things.

Leaning into his touch, I murmur, “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know, Pen, but isn’t this better?”

Yes. That’s what I want to say. Yes, it’s so much better—but I never get the chance because, before I do, Riordan freezes.

I go still. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t know if his canines ever shrunk, but they’re back to looking like straight-up fangs as he pulls his hand out from under my shirt. “Someone is on my territory. I don’t know how I missed them, but they’re here. They’re close. They’re⁠—”

Knocking at the door.

Shit. It’s loud enough that I can hear the pounding against the front of it.

Clutching my shoulder, Riordan’s forehead drops against mine. “I want to ignore it. It’s probably just a packmate who sees the car out front and got nosy. I should ignore it⁠—”

“But you won’t,” I say.

Because he’s the pack Beta. He’s also the chief deputy. If the sheriff is downtown, it’s possible that someone nearby needs help and that means they need Riordan.

Thinking along the same lines as me, Riordan tilts his head slightly, tapping into his shifter hearing. I can tell the exact moment he recognizes whoever is outside because his expression changes. One part annoyed, one part resigned, I know there’s no way he’s going to stand in the bedroom and hope they go away and all because it’s:

“Delilah,” he huffs out. “It’s Delilah at the door.”

Of course.

Because nothing says welcome to your new home, newly mated witch quite like the local head witch interrupting when your wolf had his hand up your shirt.

Well, if it’s Delilah, it’s a good chance she’s here for me. And if she isn’t? If the head witch has decided to come see Riordan without calling first to let him—to let us—know? I think I should answer the door regardless.

I start toward the bedroom exit, but Riordan catches my hand. “I go first,” he says. “Yeah?”

If it makes him feel better. “Okay.”

I can tell from his expression that he expected a fight. Not from me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s when to pick my battles. Now that I’m mated to Riordan Lobo, that’ll come in handy more than ever. Besides, I’m not a predator. I’m a witch who might be able to use my backfiring spells to protect myself, but considering I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually worked when I want them to backfire, it’s much smarter to rely on my big, bad wolf to protect me.

Only I’m not afraid of Delilah. While a couple of witches in Moonburrow plotted to frame the outsider so they could get their hands on Morrigaine’s mirror, the head witch came to me personally and said that they’d been scolded, and the Moonburrow coven were in full agreement that Morrigaine’s mirror deserved to stay with the last descendent of her line.

Or, I think with a start, the current last descendent. When I remember just how many times Riordan and I have gone at it like rabbits since he admitted I was his mate… who knows? I could be pregnant. I’m not using any birth control because I haven’t been sexually active in a while, and I didn’t trust myself to keep up with the charm in case it made me, like, super fertile. And while witches have a lower birthrate among supes, certain shifters pop out litters.

I’m pretty sure wolves are one of them.

I blink, stunned. I could be a mom myself one day. If not now, then in the future, if that’s something Riordan wants. And considering the concept of fated mates and mating among the beastly supes comes down to their shifter goddess encouraging them to go forth and multiply, I’m thinking that my mate knew what he was getting into when neither one of us even though of grabbing a rubber before he came inside of me.

Did I mention that I’m an overthinker? Mere hours after I accepted his bite, I’m already wondering if we can turn one of the spare rooms in the cabin into a nursery, and even if I don’t blurt that out and scare the crap out of my mate, all it takes is one peek at me and he pauses on his way out of the room.

He tilts his head. “What’s that look for, witch?”