Page 42 of Hex and the Kitty

“Cover your ears!” Molly snatched a container of sea salt, flinging it in a wide arc while chanting a sound barrier spell. The salt particles froze midair, creating a dome that muffled the creatures’ attack.

Relief flashed across Warrick’s face. He straightened, launching back into the fray with renewed ferocity. His muscles flexed as he tore through creature after creature, a deadly dance that showcased both power and precision.

A monstrous form coalesced above the cupcake display—a mass of smoke twice the size of the others. It lunged toward Warrick’s back while he dispatched a smaller creature.

Without thinking, Molly grabbed her bottle of vanilla extract and hurled it at the mass. “Tempus Stasis!”

The monster froze mid-attack, suspended in a bubble of slowed time. Warrick whirled, eyes widening as he registered the threat. In one fluid motion, he launched over the counter and slashed through the suspended creature. It exploded into particles of black dust, settling over the pristine displays like volcanic ash.

Silence fell, broken only by their ragged breathing.

Flour covered every surface, mingling with sugar crystals and the smoldering remnants of dark magic. Display shelves lay toppled, pastries scattered across the floor. Amid the chaos, Warrick stood tall, his partial shift receding as his breathing steadied. A streak of flour dusted his cheek; a small cut above his eyebrow dripped blood onto his collarbone.

Molly had never seen anything more attractive in her life.

Her mouth dried as she watched his powerful chest rise and fall. His uniform shirt hung open, revealing tanned skin and defined muscle. Their eyes locked across the devastated bakery, and the air between them charged with something far more dangerous than smoke monsters.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, moving toward him as if drawn by invisible thread.

Warrick’s eyes darkened to molten gold. “It’s nothing.”

“Not nothing.” She reached up, fingertips brushing the cut on his forehead. His skin burned beneath her touch, and she felt him shudder. “You’re bleeding.”

His hand captured hers, pressing her palm flat against his cheek. “Worth it.”

THIRTY-TWO

That single touch ignited something primal between them—beyond attraction, beyond the pretense of fake dating. Molly became acutely aware of their bodies’ proximity, the heat radiating from him, the slight tremble in his fingers against hers.

“Those creatures,” she said, her voice husky, “they targeted shifter hearing specifically. Your hearing.”

Warrick’s jaw tightened. “Gus.”

“The magical signature matches what we found at the station.” Molly’s gaze dropped to the ruins of her bakery, reality crashing back. Tears pricked her eyes. “He knows I help you with the wards. He’s targeting both of us now.”

Something fierce and protective flashed across Warrick’s face. Without warning, he pulled her against his chest, arms banding around her with gentle strength. His heartbeat thundered against her ear, powerful and steady.

“He won’t touch you,” Warrick growled, the rumble vibrating through his chest. “I won’t let him.”

Molly melted into his embrace, arms sliding around his waist. His skin burned through the thin fabric of his shirt, and she fought the urge to press her lips against his neck. Instead, she tilted her head back, meeting his intense gaze.

“We protect each other,” she corrected. “I’m not some helpless witch who needs rescuing. That smoke monster would’ve shredded your back if I hadn’t frozen it.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, followed by something that looked suspiciously like pride. “We make a good team.”

“We do.” She took a shaky breath, gathering courage. “Mari told me something today. She said balance creates the strongest magic—and the strongest relationships.”

Warrick’s hand moved to her face, thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. His touch sent sparks racing across her skin. “Smart woman, your sister.”

“She also said tigers mate for life,” Molly whispered, emboldened by the heat in his eyes.

His pupils dilated, nostrils flaring slightly as his gaze dropped to her lips. “That’s true.”

“What else should I know about tigers?” She shifted closer, twisting her fingers in his shirt.

Warrick’s voice dropped to a rumble that vibrated through her bones. “They’re territorial. Protective. Once they choose, their devotion is absolute.”

“And have you chosen, Warrick Shaw?” The question escaped before she could reconsider, hanging in the flour-dusted air between them.

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