Page 37 of Hex and the Kitty

They moved to the next ward. Molly tried to focus on the magic rather than Warrick’s presence behind her.

“Your knowledge is impressive,” he said, watching her work. “Self-taught?”

“My mother began my training, but I’ve spent years refining it.” She glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. “Flora magic comes naturally, and protective magic grows from the same root—like how plants develop thorns or bitter compounds.”

His head tilted, eyes studying her with unexpected intensity. “You see everything through a botanical lens.”

“Hazard of the profession.” Molly smiled, tapping the crystal gently. “People, places, emotions—all connected to growth and nurturing.”

“And what plant would I be in your worldview?” The question held genuine curiosity.

Her eyes traced his features—the strong jaw, the hint of silver at his temples, the watchful eyes that had witnessed centuries of human history.

“Something ancient and enduring. A sequoia, maybe.” The words emerged softer than intended. “Deeply rooted, weathered countless seasons, standing sentinel while the forest changes around you.”

Something flickered across his face—surprise, followed by a warmth that transformed his expression.

“And yourself?” he asked, voice dropping to an intimate register.

“Oh, something practical but persistent. Rosemary or sage—useful in kitchens, difficult to kill?—“

“No.” He shook his head, stepping closer. “You’re something rarer. Those moonshade flowers you mentioned perhaps—luminous in darkness, blooming when others sleep, possessing quiet power most overlook.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

The unexpected poetry from such a serious man stole her breath. Before she could respond, wind swept across the station yard, carrying autumn’s bite. Molly shivered.

Warrick moved without hesitation, his arm sliding around her shoulders. The casual gesture shouldn’t have felt so significant, but heat cascaded through her body at his touch, her magic stirring in response.

“Cold?” His voice rumbled near her ear, sending another shiver that had nothing to do with temperature.

“A little.” She attempted a simple warming spell—a charm performed countless times during winter baking sessions.

But her magic, amplified by Warrick’s proximity, surged beyond control. Golden sparks erupted from her fingertips, swirling around them like fireflies, creating a glowing cocoon of warmth that reflected in Warrick’s eyes.

“Sugar sticks—“ Molly gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean?—“

“Don’t apologize.” His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders. “It’s beautiful.”

In the golden light, the angles of his face softened. The sparks transformed his eyes from amber to molten gold, revealing flecks of bronze she’d never noticed before. His gaze dropped to her mouth, hunger flickering across his features.

Molly’s heart stuttered, then raced. Her skin prickled with awareness, magic humming through her veins. The air between them crackled with more than her wayward spell.

Warrick leaned down, hesitating a breath away from her lips. The pause stretched between them—a question, an offering of choice.

Molly rose on her toes, answering the unspoken question by pressing her mouth to his.

The contact sparked through her body like lightning grounding. His hand slid from her shoulder to cup her cheek, thumb tracing her jawline as the kiss deepened. His mouth moved against hers with restrained hunger as if holding back the full force of his desire.

Her magic responded to the surge of emotion, golden fireflies spinning faster, brighter. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself as the world tilted beneath her feet.

This was nothing like the casual kisses she’d exchanged over the years. This felt elemental—earth meeting fire, root touching flame.

The station’s alarm shattered the moment, its piercing wail slicing through the night. They broke apart, Molly’s chest heaving as if she’d run for miles.

Warrick’s eyes had darkened to burnished bronze, frustration etched in the tight line of his jaw. “I need to check?—“

“Go,” she nodded, stepping back as her magical fireflies dispersed.

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