Page 72 of Waltzing With Witches

“Thank you,” I breathe. “Love you guys. I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Slipping out of the booth, I resist the urge to look back at my family.

I walk up the row between the bar and the booths until I reach the door. Abe casts a quick look down my body before leveling me with a possessive gaze. “Shall we head home?”

My fingers twitch with the need to reach out and take his hand, to walk out of here like we’re any other couple on a date. But what we have is so crazy, so new and so unconventional. I don’t know if he’ll want that.

Taking a step closer, he reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. With a soft smile, he pushes the door open, guiding me through. Once outside, he directs me to his bike, holding my hand as I mount it. Fuck me, I know my sisters and Lou are probably staring at me from inside. I can’t bring myself to look up; I might burst into hysterical anxiety-driven laughter.

I told Abe I wanted to fuck him for our first date.

What in the hell was I thinking?! I mean hells. What in the hells?

Abe slides onto the seat behind me and wraps an arm around my waist, settling me against his big chest. With a turn of the throttle, we drive off down the street and toward home.

I close my eyes as he drives, my head resting against his chest. It’s hard to talk on the bike like this, and I don’t even know what he’ll want once we get home. I imagine he delivered the bad news alongside Richard. And I don’t know what might help him carry the burden of being in charge of this town.

Not to mention, when the Hearth finds out that someone actually died on his watch? I choke down sorrow wondering what Evenia will do. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

I trace lazy stripes up his thighs and back down, willing the smallest amount of peace to comfort him. His muscles are tense beneath my hands, but after a few minutes, he rests his chin on top of my head.

When we reach the castle, Ben swings his doors wide for us. Abe hops off first, offering me his hand. When I slide off the seat, he presses me against it, caging me between both muscular arms.

“You were wonderful,” he murmurs, brushing my lips with his. “Astonishing. Incredible.”

“Oh my gods,” I say with faux surprise. “Is this a compliment, Abe?”

He grins, eyes dropping to my lips. “Richard tells me you might appreciate a compliment from time to time.” His expression turns serious. “That doesn’t diminish the truth of it, Morgan. More lives could have been lost today if not for you.”

I lift my gaze to his. “What’s happening with Leighton?”

Abe grits his jaw, the muscles working tight under his skin. “Leighton’s family wants to bury him tonight and celebrate his life tomorrow. That’s traditional for shifters.”

“Did you have to deliver the news? What happened with the thrall?”

His eyes fall to the ground. “I delivered the news with Richard. He and Connall will be the primary support for Leighton’s family over the next few days, as is their way. We didn’t learn anything new at Slade’s. The thrall is Wesley’s. How, we can’t say. Arkan is calling Evenia now.”

“Jesus,” I huff out. “I hope she doesn’t show up.”

“She won’t,” he confirms. “She’s likely to send an army, though. And once we catch Wesley, I’ll be removed from my post, if I had to guess.” Crimson eyes find mine. “I don’t care about any of that right now. Let’s steal an hour or two for ourselves. My evening will revolve around this.” Dark eyes come to mine. “I’m sorry for that. I know you need support too.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure how to…do this.”

I slip under his arm and grab his fingers, pulling him with me. “We’ll figure it out. In any case, I’ve got something for you. It’s why I was at Higher Grounds to begin with.”

He trails silently after me, through the doors and up the halls into the kitchen. I drop his hand and round the island to the coffeemaker, pushing the button to start it. I turn to Abe with a soft smile. “Sounds like we’ve got a long night ahead of us, so I think coffee’s in order.”

His lips twitch as he slides onto a barstool. As the coffee hisses and drips behind me, I watch him. And he watches me watch him. He sits up straighter, cocking his head to the side, eyes roving leisurely down to my waist and back up.

“You’re assessing me,” he says carefully. “What for?”

“I’m checking you out,” I correct. “Because I don’t get many chances to stare at you.”

Elegant nostrils flare, his fangs descending to press against the sides of his mouth.

“Does that make you hot?” I lean onto my forearms on the dark island top. “Knowing I’m looking at you, that I like what I see?”

He swallows hard, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. His eyes drop to where my tits are pressed together by my arms.

“Morgan.” His already deep voice goes deeper, rougher, my name ragged.

“Yes, Abe?” I say with a soft smile. God, I love a good tease. When he doesn’t immediately say anything, I turn to the coffee and pour two cups. I add a touch of cream to each cup and then set them on the island. Reaching for the chain around my neck, I pull the ziol out of my shirt.

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