Page 81 of Witches Be Damned

“I’m pleased to hear that your pack is reuniting.” He sounded it too.

“We’re all coming to see you,” I told him. “So make room in your bed, get lots of beer, some ice for the ice box, and we’ll fish and feast.”

“Very good.” His chest thundered so loudly I barely heard him.

Australian Christmas was in summer, so no fireplace, unfortunately. We’d make do with other toys.

“I’m counting down the days, Little One.” There was some rustling on his end and a beep, and I assumed he put me on speaker to check his calendar. “Eighty-one days.”

One day without him was agonizing. How would I survive that many?

“Are you eating?” he reminded me.

I buried that depressing thought for now and indulged in my second bite, moaning again, knowing how much the sound did it for his wolf. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Good.” It sounded like he got up from his chair to add another log to the fire by the clunk of wood on cast iron. “I’ll make sure we have a holiday to remember.”

“I can’t wait, my man.” Eighty-one days would fly by. I’d bury myself in missions and laboratory work now that I managed the lab, since my former boss died in an attack by Devon and Eduardo. I’d not overlook a clue. We’d find those bastards, lock them up, and throw away the key.

“What else have you been up to?” Raze’s deep grit warmed me from head to toe.

“My men have been spoiling me to cheer me up,” I told him.

“That pleases me to hear. Wish I had three men to cheer me up.” I giggled at his joke.

“I can’t imagine you as a pampered princess.” I enjoyed our banter.

“Why not? I’ll have you know I enjoy a deep hair conditioning treatment.”

“On your chest!” I snorted.

“Oh, you are asking for a spanking, my little brat,” he growled, and I loved the drop in his voice.

“Pity I’m not in my cell,” I said. “I’d roll on my belly and let one of my men take your place.”

He thundered a longer growl. “That will be happening at Christmas.”

“Mmm. Yes, please.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face in anticipation of us all being together again. One. A pack. My harem.

“And what have you been up to?” I switched topics. “Besides conditioning your crotch hair?”

He let out a long laugh that encouraged my fire higher. “Brat.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he admitted. “We had a fortunate find yesterday.”

I sat up straighter at his admission. “Yeah? Sounds like our luck is changing for the better with the bone witch’s curse.”

“It is.” I heard his boots clonk on wood, and I imagined my massive wolf reclined on his sofa, his long legs almost spilling off the coffee table. “We caught Theresa Sanchez campaigning other Guild members for their votes in an upcoming Councilor election in exchange for her support of their schemes.”

“Dirty rat!” I snatched my candy back and sank my teeth into it, pretending I was a wolf tearing into her throat.

“My vicious Little One is a goanna protecting her young.” I loved it when he compared me to the animals he revered.

“What else? Did you arrest her? Is she on trial?’ I wanted the lowdown.

I pictured her prissy face shedding crocodile tears and begging for forgiveness that I prayed never came. A resentful fire surpassed my glowing one for Raze and scorched my insides. That witch denied my appeal and advocated for her creepy rapist nephews.

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