Page 39 of It's In His Hiss

“Don’t act like you’re not proud.”

He gives me a look that makes my toes curl. “I’ve never been more proud in my life.”

We’ve had six months of learning to touch without turning into a myth gone wrong. Sixmonths of spell craft, snake diplomacy, and figuring out where I end and my magic begins with the help of Verity, Gideon, and our wonderfully magical neighbors.

My stomach gurgles as I flop back onto the bed with a happy groan, my hair splayed around me like a chaotic halo. “I’m so ready for my morning-after breakfast in a half-haunted, snake-infested bookshop apartment.”

“Well,” Gordy says, standing and tugging on sweatpants that cling in deeply unfair ways, “don’t startle the espresso machine. It’s sentient before 9 a.m.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Only in three states.”

I wrap the sheet around me and shuffle after him, ignoring the sassy snake currently slithering around my shoulder like a clingy cat. The apartment smells like sex, old books, and the scintillating scent of bakery magic wafting through the open window fromConjure and Crumbdown the street. It’s oddly comforting. Like a place that doesn’t simply tolerate my chaos but welcomes it.

Gordy moves around the kitchen like he’s done this a thousand times. But there’s a new rhythm now. A new awareness. He hums under his breath as he makes coffee, tossing me a granola bar and a wink.

I catch it. The bar, not the wink. That one hits me square in the ovaries.

“You know this is the real deal, right?” I say softly, unwrapping the bar.

He pauses. Turns. And walks toward me until our bodies are a breath apart.

“I’m only built for the real deal,” he says, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “For epic love stories and slow burns and entire sonnets about the curve of your smile.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for my smile.”

“It’s worth it.”

I tuck my face against his chest, the beat of his heart grounding me. Around us, the apartment creaks, the snakes hiss sleepily, and something sparks in the espresso machine that definitelywasn’t steam.

And somehow… it all feels like home.

Later, as we sip our coffee—mine black, his sweetened within an inch of its life—I glance down at the snake coiled around my wrist and raise a brow.

“Okay, who’s this one? He’s been tail-hugging me for fifteen minutes.”

Gordy peers over his mug. “That’s Steve. He’s shy. If he likes you, it’s serious.”

I blink. “Wait. You have a snake namedSteve?”

He shrugs. “He insisted. Besides, you named Sheila. And the, uh, other one.”

I arch a brow. “You mean,Sir Licksss-a-lot?”

Gordy tries not to laugh and fails spectacularly. “He says it’s aknightly title, thank you very much.”

“Pretty bold for a guy who hides under your waistband when I reach for a second round.” I sigh, sipping my coffee with a dramatic flair. “Fine. Tell Steve if he wants to be part of this relationship, he better start pulling his weight.”

Gordy chokes on his drink.

Steve flicks his tongue proudly.

And me?

I just smile.

Because this? This is the kind of weird, wonderful magic I never dared to dream of.

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