Page 31 of My Hexed Honeymoon

This serves as a perfect reminder for why I never wanted this kind of magic—why I’m extra precautious and forever holding back a little.

Back a lot, honestly.

I really thought they’d find it funny—that’s all it was supposed to be, a light-hearted trick that earned me a laugh and perhaps an ounce of respect.

The wind picks up, a cool gust that causes the leaves to shiver in the trees and raises goosebumps on my arms. It’s the sort of frigidity I’m used to dealing with from my mother, and that’s what hurts most of all. I recognize the fear and the hatred it causes in others, and the entire pack is looking at me in that exact same way.

I guess it’s the reminder I needed that I’m not one of them, and I never will be.

I can handle it from the rest of them, but when I seek out Diego, a muscle flexes in his jaw like he’s holding himself back—like when we fight in the forest.

Still, I plead with my eyes not to leave me out here in the open by myself any longer, now suddenly the bullseye in the target of their hatred.

His gaze drops to the ground. But it’s the shake of his head, like he can’t believe he’s married to me, that’s so utterly devastating.

It’s my fault for letting my guard down and thinking we could be friends—or at the very least civil.

Everyone peels off in clusters, leaving the area, until Diego and I are the only two who remain.

And I internally crumble, because that says everything.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The perimeter guardshave our unexpected guest surrounded, half of them fangs and fur, with those in human form ready to transform at a moment’s notice. Through their barrier of bodies, I catch a glimpse of a platinum fauxhawk glowing in the moonlight.

“Riven,” I snarl, not bothering to hide my disdain or annoyance. “You should’ve called.”

Their swagger as they take the half step toward me before meeting the resistance of my men causes me to want to rip off a limb, so I cross my arms and remind myself I’m trying to prevent an all-out war with the vampires; not give them a reason.

Riven’s smile is all teeth and amusement, the very picture of someone who enjoys stirring up shit just to see where it settles. “And miss this warm greeting? You can’t get this kind of leering with a phone call.”

“You can. It’s called FaceTime.”

“Ah,” they say. “Next time, then. Although I don’t believe that sort of scowl, radiating that type of rage, can be fully captured in 3D. The extra dimension gives so much more detail to the flare of your nostrils and threatening jut of your chin.”

I exhale, making a show of how exhausting I’m finding them already, and that if they take testing my patience too far, I’m likely to snap. “State your business, bloodsucker.”

“Ooh, reverting to name-calling.” Riven’s features smooth, that quirk of a smile showing off fuchsia lipstick and a hint of fang.

Enough that my guards grumble in warning, from those on all fours to those cracking knuckles and flanking either side of me.

Riven takes off their gloves, one finger at a time, revealing those fake fingernails nearly as long as their fingers—I have no idea how they expect to ever defend themselves with those things on. “You can tell the Snarl Squad to relax. No blood needs to be shed unnecessarily, at least not tonight.”

Oh, I’m about to find it extremely necessary.

And that’s even beforethey say, “I’m actually looking for an audience with your blushing bride.” They neatly fold their gloves and take their sweet time tucking them into the pockets of their cape coat, as if we can’t rip their head from their body. “I don’t mind going to her, but I’m fine waiting here if you’d rather bring her to me.”

Yeah, I didn’t want their vampire stench anywhere near my home or my blushing bride.

Not that she was currently speaking to me.

We exchanged a handful of words over the past couple of days, and it was like pulling fucking teeth. I never knew “Please pass the milk” could sound so much like “I wish I could eat this cereal next to your corpse.”

The woman I sat next to at the bonfire, laughing and licking melted chocolate off our lips and fingers, is gone.

The problem is, after that ax throwing contest, nobody can forget her display of magic or that she’s a witch.

Which has also led to her wandering off in the forest to practice her magic—as well as getting in and out of the Hollow—alone. Since things were tense enough as it was, I gave her the semblance of space, having Elias and Gideon shadow her from several yards back.

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