Page 52 of Hex and the Kitty

“The cursed charm Molly and I found this morning,” he said quietly. “It carried the same magical signature as the previous sabotage attempts. Not witch-magic. Something corrupted. Tainted.”

“Dark magic artifacts can be purchased,” Falkor noted grimly. “For the right price.”

“Whatever he’s planning,” Reed said, “we need to protect not just the event but the people he might target to hurt you.”

The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air.

Molly. Her smiling face filled Warrick’s mind—green eyes sparkling, curls tumbling around her shoulders, flour dusting her cheek. The mere thought of her in danger made his tiger howl silently, rage and protectiveness merging into primal need to defend what belonged to him.

FORTY

What belonged to him? The presumption stunned him. When had that shift occurred? From professional colleague to friend to... something his centuries-old heart hesitated to name but his tiger claimed without reservation.

“Molly can protect herself,” Warrick said, surprising himself with the pride in his voice. “You should have seen her this morning. She sensed that cursed object before I noticed anything wrong. Her protective wards rival Luna’s in strength.”

“Still,” Roarke cautioned, “Daisy says witches are vulnerable after major spellcasting. Energy depletion.”

“Molly mentioned that too,” Warrick admitted. “She takes herbal supplements to mitigate it.”

“Supplements might not be enough against direct targeting,” Reed countered. “Especially if she’s distracted by... personal developments.”

The knowing looks exchanged around the table pierced through Warrick’s careful defenses.

“This charade has gone on long enough,” Bram said bluntly. “Anyone with eyes can see it stopped being fake weeks ago.”

“The tiger’s claimed her,” Falkor observed. “The man still hesitates. Why?”

The direct question demanded an equally direct answer. Warrick stared into his half-empty mug, searching for words that could encompass centuries of caution now crumbling beneath the weight of newfound emotion.

“I’ve outlived partners before,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “Watched humans age while I remained unchanged. Even magical beings with extended lifespans... accidents happen. Wars happen. Disease happens.”

“So you’d deny yourself happiness out of fear?” Lark asked without judgment.

“It seemed prudent,” Warrick admitted. “Until Molly. She’s...” He trailed off, struggling to capture her essence in mere words. “When she walks into a room, everything brightens. Not just literally, though her magic does that too. She faces danger without flinching. Creates beauty from ordinary ingredients. Sees through every defense I’ve built over centuries.”

His tiger surged with approval at this acknowledgment, nearly purring beneath his skin.

“She filled my office with enchanted origami animals last week,” he continued, the memory warming him despite the serious conversation. “Said the space needed ‘whimsy’ to balance my ‘excessive stoicism.’ The paper creatures move when nobody’s watching. I caught a tiger cub climbing my bookshelf yesterday.”

“You’re completely gone for her,” David observed with a smile.

“Utterly,” Warrick agreed, surprising himself with the admission. “My tiger recognized her immediately. The man took longer to catch up.”

Reed placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Then protect what matters, Warrick. If Gus is targeting you, he’ll eventually target her. Not just because of her magic or her help with the wards, but because hurting her would hurt you most.”

He was about to tell them that she had already been targeted, but he didn’t know if Molly wanted others to know about that yet.

“You have all of us at your back,” David promised. “Every person at this table stands with you.”

Bram raised his glass. “To Whispering Pines. To brotherhood. And to Warrick finally accepting what the rest of us saw months ago—that he and Molly belong together.”

As their glasses clinked in unified support, certainty crystallized within Warrick. His tiger had chosen. His heart had followed despite his mind’s stubborn resistance. The fear of eventual loss paled against the vibrant possibilities of a life shared with Molly—her laughter filling his too-quiet home, her magic complementing his strength, their children inheriting the best of both bloodlines.

Their children. The thought shocked him with its rightness, with the bone-deep longing it evoked. After centuries of careful isolation, he craved the chaotic, beautiful messiness of family life—but only with her. Only with Molly.

“To Molly,” he added quietly. “May she never regret choosing a tiger.”

Falkor’s ancient eyes held knowing wisdom. “The real question, young one, is whether you’re prepared for the whirlwind that comes with claiming a witch as powerful as Molly Hues.”

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