Page 31 of Waltzing With Witches

I grab two glasses from the cabinet to her right. “Seems more like twenty questions than truth or dare.”

She shrugs. “You’ve always held me at arm’s length. I’d like to know more about you if I’m going to remain your houseguest.” Gray eyes flash. “Unless you’d like me to leave.”

This is a precipice of some sort. A test of my worthiness. A test to see what my answer will be. I’m standing on the edge with wind buffeting my back, praying not to fall to my death.

Tell her to go, I will myself. Tell her to get out right now and go somewhere, anywhere but here.

“There’s no need for you to leave,” I say softly. “The castle would be distraught.”

On cue, every window in the kitchen opens and shuts, wild wooden clacking noises filling the kitchen.

Morgan grimaces, slapping both hands over her ears. “I get it! I’m not leaving you. Chill out, dude!”

I cock my head to the side. “Dude?”

Morgan brings her hands down and grins up at me. “Yeah. The castle is not female. All the other buildings seem to be. I guess that’s a haven thing. But the castle is different.”

The walls shimmy and shake. The castle is agreeing with her.

Shock ripples waves through me as I stare at Morgan. “Buildings are always female. Wards are always female. That’s how it is.”

She shrugs. “Well, that’s not how it is with this house.”

“How do you know?”

She nips at the edge of her lower lip. “Just a sentiment, more than anything. The castle has a very masculine energy to me. It’s so different from any of the other buildings. Except for Town Hall. Very feminine energy, but also distinctly different from the others. Speaking of which, I need to go back there soon.”

Confusion turns my thoughts to mud. “Why?”

Morgan sighs as if the answer is obvious, and she’s disappointed I haven’t been able to reach it. “Because they’re your buildings, Keeper, and we need to fucking keep them. I mean, you do, obviously.” She tacks that last bit on as if to distance her plans and mine.

The island countertop splits from the base and leaps up into the air, banging back down onto the support cabinets several times.

I stare around in wonder as the castle reacts to Morgan’s statement. She looks confidently up at me like it’s every day she rocks my world with a realization I never came to.

“So, the castle’s a dude,” I repeat. “Do I need to be doing anything different with…him?”

“Be cool,” Morgan says, grabbing the bourbon out of my hand. “You coming or what? You still haven’t answered the questions.” She casts me a playful wink and heads out of the kitchen.

Planting both hands on my hips, I glare up at the ceiling. “This whole time you’ve been a male?”

No response. She, wait, no, he doesn’t bother to answer me. But Morgan’s voice echoes from the hallway outside my office. She’s chatting with him.

Shock morphs into fascination, so I follow her, trailing her through the dark halls as I pick through a mountain of tumultuous thoughts.

When I open the door to my office, Morgan’s already inside. She’s seated in my chair, both long legs up on my desk. The room’s singular fireplace roars at her back.

She jerks her head toward the fire. “Hope you don’t mind. I love a good fire.”

I incline my head. I love a good fire as well. Ideally, I’d have her splayed below me on a rug in front of it. I could spend hours bringing her to bliss, over and over and fucking over again.

I choke down a needy whine, reaching across the desk to grab the bottle of bourbon. “Forgot the glasses.” I lift the bottle to my lips and drink deeply.

When I set it down, Morgan’s nostrils flare. “Do you get drunk?”

“Rarely.”

“Why not?”

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