Page 20 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“I’m fucking helping, okay? You claimed we were going to get started, and I’m still waiting.”

Okay, now I’m going to straight-up murder him—that’s how this honeymoon officially ends. I’ll be the lady grinning and singing country songs about killing dudes who deserved it while rotting away in my cell.

It’d be one in Mother’s basement,I remind myself with a shudder as I quickly recompose myself.

From now on, I’ll just ignore the giant werewolf pressed against my back, firm fingers digging into my skin, heated breath, and masculine cologne doing funny things to my tummy. Without bothering to explain what I’m doing, I close my eyes,shutting out the sense of sight I relied on far too much—according to Andromeda, anyway.

Probably Diego, too, the obnoxious jackass.

I reach out again, but now it’s like every creature, every tree, every blade of grass wants attention and is clamoring at me. Cracking open an eye, I see if that helps quiet some of the noise, but golden threads shimmer and surround us, immediately overwhelming me.

My breath comes out in shallow gasps, leaving me dizzy.

Diego’s fingers seem to twitch reflexively. “Are you okay?”

That punishing headache that throbbed to life last night renews its angry pounding. Why is it that the one thing I used to be able to do is betraying and punishing me?

“It’s too loud,” I say, wincing and bringing my fingertips to massage my temples.

Diego’s hand remains firm at my waist, all my blood rushing there and getting totally carried away.

I try again, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, but the scent of damp pine and a fat frog sunning on a rock, amplifying his croak through his vocal sac, takes center stage.

“Focus,” Diego says, his low voice vibrating from his chest to my back.

“Really, that’s it?” I mutter. “You’re really bad at pep talks.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not here to coddle you. I’m here to keep you safe.”

I can’t find any stillness, and if I’m going to be tugging apart the fabric of the universe,

I need stillness. “Do you seriously think I’m not trying? We came to the most untamed part of the forest, where everything’s teeming with life, and there are a thousand things pulling at me.”

“Oh, so you think you’d focus better in the middle of town, with all the hustle and bustle of people and cars? A dozen or so strangers insisting on introducing themselves to you?”

“I don’t know why I bother speaking to you at all, as it’s clearly not helping.”But if I did, I’d say strangers introducing themselves sounds nice.

“Much like you, I’m trying.”

Anger is now the only thread I can grab hold of, and I’d like to wind it up and use it to strangle the cantankerous werewolf behind me.

I feel the hot breath he blows from his nostrils, his frustration as apparent as mine. “How do I help?”

Damn it, now I’d rather he go back to being mean, because I don’t know and that makes me feel inadequate. “I’m struggling to stay grounded in my body. I start sensing all the life forces, and my self-preservation instinct starts squawking, and justeverything. To the point I no longer feel able to access the magic inside of me.”

Diego’s quiet for a moment, a blank space in a sea of overstimulation. Given my mother would’ve used the minutes to berate me and point out how much control she had of her magic, I find it preferable, ineffectual or not.

“Okay, so if you’re in your head,” he says next to my ear in a contemplative tone, “we’ve got to figure out how to get you to come back to your body.”

Ever so slowly, he drags the callused pads of his fingertips down my arm. “To stop thinking so much.”

The other noises of the forest fade, every ounce of my concentration switching to the tingly trail he’s now swiping up my inner arm. The beats of my heart come faster and faster, not waiting for one to finish before the other begins, until they’re right on top of each other.

That constant hum of magic twines with the mating bond and crackles through the air, evolving into a lively but steady frequency I can set my inhales and exhales to.

Another gentle pass with the pads of his fingers, this time from my elbow to the inside of my wrist, where he lingers. Using his thumb, he swipes over my pulse point again and again.

His touch shouldn’t help. If anything, I’d expect it to distract me.

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