Page 73 of Hex and the Kitty

“I’d rather not discuss my facial expressions all evening,” Warrick interrupted, though a smile—yes, an actual smile—tugged on his lips. Three centuries of careful distance, and somehow within months, this town—these people—had tangled themselves inextricably with his life. With his heart.

As they moved deeper into the room, familiar faces turned toward them. Celeste waved from where she stood with Kade, her advanced pregnancy not diminishing her radiance in a flowing purple gown. Ellie and Reed occupied a corner table, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders while she gazed up at him with unbridled adoration.

“Everyone looks so happy,” Molly murmured, squeezing his arm.

“They do,” he agreed, allowing himself to savor the moment—the peaceful culmination of weeks of tension. No more sabotage, no more threats. Just this night, this woman, this community.

Across the room, Warrick caught sight of his cupcake display—an elaborate tower of her “Fire & Spice” creations, each one frosted with swirls of flame-colored buttercream that seemed to flicker with actual embers.

“Your cupcakes have drawn a crowd,” he noted, nodding toward a cluster of firefighters sampling the treats.

Pride bloomed across Molly’s features. “Those should give them temporary heat resistance. Not enough to walk through flames, mind you, but sufficient to withstand higher temperatures than normal humans could tolerate.”

“Clever witch.” He pressed his lips to her temple, not caring who observed the intimate gesture. Let them see. Let them all see that Molly Hues had claimed him as thoroughly as he claimed her.

They circled the perimeter slowly, greeting townspeople and accepting congratulations from friends. Molly’s hand remained firmly in his, a tether he had no intention of releasing. His tiger purred its satisfaction beneath his skin—present but controlled, pleased that their mate walked openly at their side.

Warrick paused to examine a particularly intricate protection ward etched into a doorframe. The glowing sigil pulsed with magic that carried Celeste’s distinct signature—protective but fierce like the witch herself.

“Celeste outdid herself,” he murmured, running a finger along the edge of the ward without disrupting it. “These are ancient symbols. Viking origin, if I’m not mistaken.”

Molly leaned closer to inspect it. “She mentioned borrowing from some of Lark’s family grimoires. His ancestors traveled extensively throughout Northern Europe.”

“They’ll hold against most magical intrusions,” Warrick confirmed, noting similar patterns scattered throughout the venue. “Your friends prepared thoroughly.”

“After everything that’s happened, we weren’t taking chances.” Molly’s expression darkened momentarily. “I still can’t believe Gus would go so far as to sabotage equipment. Someone could have died.”

Warrick’s jaw tightened. “If I had concrete proof, he’d already be in Reed’s custody.”

“Let’s not dwell on him tonight.” Molly tugged his hand, drawing him back toward the center of the room where couples had begun gathering for a dance. “Tonight is for celebration.”

The string quartet transitioned into a waltz, rich and melodic. Couples formed a circle on the dance floor—Reed guiding Ellie with surprising grace for such a powerfully built man; Kade whispering something that made Celeste throw back her head in laughter; Bram sweeping Tabitha into an elegant turn.

Warrick extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Hues?”

Her smile lit up her entire face. “I thought you’d never ask, Chief Shaw.”

He led her onto the floor, one hand settling on the small of her back, the other enfolding her fingers. Years of existence had taught him many things, including how to move with grace. He guided her through the opening steps, pleased when she followed effortlessly.

“You never told me you could dance,” she said, looking up at him through dark lashes.

“There are many things I haven’t told you yet.” He executed a perfect turn, drawing her closer than strictly necessary. “We have time for all of it.”

“All of it?”

“Everything.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her. “Every story, every memory worth sharing. Every dream for the future—our future.”

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting in soft surprise. “Our future,” she repeated, testing the words.

“If you want it.”

Around them, the music swelled, but Warrick heard only the rhythm of Molly’s heartbeat and his own. They moved together as if they’d danced a thousand times before, finding a synchronicity that seemed impossible for two people who’d known each other mere months.

“I want it,” she finally whispered. “I want a future with you, Warrick. I know it hasn’t been long, but...”

“Time moves differently when you’ve lived for centuries,” he reminded her, his thumb stroking her lower back. “Some connections require decades to form. Others happen instantly—like lightning striking.”

“And we’re lightning?”

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