Page 41 of De-Witched

Her smile stretched into an honest grin. It probably wasn’t his intention, but any time a dry retort came from his mouth, she counted it a victory. One more button undone on his serious straitjacket.

“You must like the guys, at least,” she pointed out. “You hung out with them voluntarily.”

His instant discomfort was obvious. “I was...persuaded,” he muttered, lifting his mug.

“And you stayed.”

He drank deep before putting the cup on the counter. He kept his eyes on it, then elegantly raised a shoulder. “It was interesting. I’ve not had much occasion to ‘hang out.’” Instantly, his expression tightened and he looked down his nose at her. “Goodnights have far more important things we must do.”

“Of course,” she murmured, that crack in his façade splitting her own chest. She couldn’t stand being alone, hence her “mutt”-ley crew. She wondered if he felt the same deep down, despite what he said.

Flirtation, not feelings, she reminded herself.

She set down her mug on the glass table. “And Sloane? I hear she’s become your shadow.”

When he approached, her heart rate picked up, practically humming as he leaned down, low enough for her to see a shadow of facial hair along his jawline. Her breath caught as he reached out. When he produced a coaster to slide under her mug, she had to laugh at herself.

He hesitated, then sank down on the other end of the couch. His back was a straight line while hers curved into the cushions. “I find her interesting.”

The man couldn’t say he liked anything. Why did she find that interesting?

“She reminds me of someone,” he finished, throwing her nervous system into overdrive.

She forced herself to stay relaxed. “Someone I know?” Please don’t say Emma.

“No.”

Her spine relaxed. Thank God.

When he didn’t elaborate, she suppressed a sigh. “Gee, Gabe, you’re such a chatterbox.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She snickered. “C’mon.” She dared to cross the invisible border and poked his leg with her foot. He jerked like she’d electrocuted him.

He recovered quickly. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because when they were handing out patience, curiosity was having a two-for-one sale and I’ve always been a sucker for a bargain.”

“You are strange.”

“Like you’re a model of normal?”

Green met blue, his searching. His face was shadowed, all angles. “I’ve never had anyone talk to me like you.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”

The Warlock of Contempt glanced away, but not before she saw the smallest curve shape his lips.

She’d made him smile.

This must be what miracle workers felt.

“My sister.”

Her train had jumped tracks and with effort she tried to get back onto his. “What?”

“Sloane.” He traced his ring. “She reminds me of my sister.”

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