Page 13 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

Lucy sighs, changing around some of her items and choosing a yellow candle. The process seems similar, but the incantation is different.

“Okay,” she says, putting down her wand as the candle flame goes out. “I’ll try.”

She leaves the room, only to return seconds later. “You’re right,” she says, her voice high. “It seems to be getting worse!”

“If you can’t do it, do you know someone who can?” I was just pissed about this before, but now I’m actually getting scared.

She nods. “I think so.”

“Youthinkso? You aren’t sure?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I’ll have to do some thinking.”

A cold fear is creeping through me, and I’m really beginning to consider what it would be like to be tethered to her forever. She’s powerful, obviously, and she could be playing me right now.

What did she ask for in her spell? Why me?

“Do you want something to eat?” she asks.

My stomach growls loudly in answer. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“No problem.”

She turns to the fridge, pulling out a slab of bacon and a few eggs. I watch her put it all into the frying pan, and I feel a moment of dissonance that hits me so hard, I have to sit down.

This moment feels familiar. As if I’ve done this before.

Lucy turns to look at me, a strange look in her eyes. “Did you…” she begins to ask.

“Did I what?”

“I felt something.”

“I didn’t,” I snap, glaring at her.

“Oh,” she says, looking defeated. “Okay.” She turns back to the frying pan.

I don’t care. This situation is weird enough already. I’m not entertaining some fucked-up déjà vu.

“I have to call Fiona so she can open the bakery for me,” Lucy says, turning the heat down as she picks up her phone. “And we’ll let Rider know what’s going on.”

“Sure,” I say, glaring at the counter. I can’t stop myself from descending into one of the worst moods of my life.

I finally found my brother, but I lost my freedom. I’m stuck with this crazy woman.

Lucy sighs, not looking at me as she listens to the ringing on the other end of the phone. With my shifters hearing, I listen as a cheerful female voice answers.

“Hi, Lucy! What’s up?”

“Oh,” Lucy says, “not much. Did you enjoy your run last night?”

“I definitely did. Are you opening the bakery now?”

“No, I’m not. That’s why I’m calling, actually. Can you open for me today?”

“Sure! What’s going on, hun? It’s not like you to miss a day.”

“I’m… having a small problem.”

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