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“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
He dipped his head, closing the small gap between us, and kissed me in a slow, languid way that was usually reserved for Sunday mornings when lovers had all the time in the world.
I melted into his embrace, leaning my whole body weight into his so he had to let go of my face and hold me up with strong arms around my waist. Oh, what a glorious feeling it was, to let myself feel. The world stopped for a moment, and there was nothing but his kisses, his taste, his perfect, perfect smell.
When I broke away, my dizziness had returned, but for entirely new reasons.
I tried to catch my breath and had to push him back from kissing me again. Last time that happened we didn’t make it past my living room. I wasn’t about to have sex with him in Santiago’s foyer, but it was way too easy to get carried away when this dude’s smooches were involved.
“Watch them,” I whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
“Tell him to keep his mouth to himself.” He was smirking, but there was an honest edge to the words, even though they were said in jest. It was going to be awhile before the Santiago situation didn’t upset him, but it seemed like we might be making headway.
The witch saving my life had gone a long way to appeasing my man.
My man.
Huh. I liked the way that sounded in my head. I was going to need to give it a try out loud. If we survived long enough.
Yes, first thing on my post-demon to-do list was to call Wilder my boyfriend.
And then maybe we could finally go on a real date. One that didn’t involve anyone dying, or any evil monsters, or false religious leaders, or anyone ending up in jail.
Man, what did a normal date consist of anyway?
Santiago popped his head back in the room, giving me a stern glare. “Any day now.”
Wilder nodded to me—not like he was giving permission, more like he was saying You need to do this, I get it. I followed Santiago into his big kitchen and found he’d cleared away much of the debris from the previous night. The island had been stacked high with various ingredients, some of which I recognized, while others were a mystery.
Some of this stuff wouldn’t be out of place in Ezekiel’s basement.
I picked up a bundle of sage, holding it to my nose and taking a deep breath. The familiar, slightly sweet herbal smell was its own form of comfort. Being around all this spellcraft over the last two days had made me miss Memere something fierce. If anyone would know what to do with this mess, it would be her. She’d have whispered, like, two words, and the whole thing would be over.
Times like this I wondered if I’d done the right thing, coming home with Secret. If I’d stayed with Memere instead of listening to Callum’s request to return to the pack, would I have been better prepared for this sort of disaster?
Would I even be dealing with it in the first place?
I tried to picture what my life would have been like if my sister hadn’t come into it, and it was impossible. So much had happened since then, things that had changed me in fundamental ways. Things would doubtlessly be different, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what that existence looked like.
I set the sage down, suppressing the urge to sigh. I had to distract myself before this became the mopey Genie show. Self-doubt could wait.
“How can I help?” I started poking at the items on the counter, and Santiago hovered nearby, watching me. The weight of his gaze was so tangible it might as well have been his hands. He said nothing as I picked up each jar and baggie on the counter, inspecting the contents.
A little silver cup caught my eye, and I lifted it to smell what was inside. I coughed once, surprised by the pungent odor, then smelled again to confirm my suspicions, wrinkling my nose this time in spite of being prepared.
“Is this—?”
“Piss.”
I had known the answer before he said the word, yet it wasn’t until he spoke it aloud that I forced myself to put the cup back down and wipe my nose to chase away the lingering scent.
“But it’s tiger urine.”
“Mmhmm.” He came to stand next to me, rearranging some of the items I’d touched. “Impressive nose.”
“Werewolf,” I reminded him. “Where did you get tiger urine?”
“Zoo.” Didn’t even skip a beat, just said it matter-of-factly. “Why, where do you get yours?”
