Page 52 of My Hexed Honeymoon

Two more days of hiking—maybe even one and a half if I’m quick—and we’ll be back at the werewolf compound.

Everything I suggest will be safer there, with less chance of my companions killing each other and ripping the blade from me in the process.

But by the time I climb inside the sleeping bag with Diego to get cozy, I’m certain I’m not overreacting.

And that two days might be too long to wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Morning sunlight filtersthrough the tent seams, painting the world in gold. The fire outside must've burned low during the night, because the air in here is cool—but not cold. Not with her curled up against me.

I shift onto one hip to lie on my side, prop my head in one hand, and watch her breathe. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, giving no indication to the fire within that’ll blaze to life as soon as she’s up.

It takes me a moment to pinpoint why I’m staring at her like this—counting the rise and fall of her chest, cataloging her hums and the tiny, worried noises she’s made since returning from the Hollow with the Blood Loom. Every few minutes like clockwork, and there’s no way Riven hasn’t also noticed Talia’s rising apprehensions.

But I noticed them in a very different way, attuning every breath, every shift—every everything—to Natalia. So that’s what’s beginning to worry me, though I think it might already be too late to do anything to stop it.

I’m even done pretending it’s strictly the bond.

Yesterday, for the first time in… I don’t know how long, I was scared.

I hadn’t been scared to fight Conall for Alpha—regardless of knowing we’d have to go all out and there’d be broken bones and possibly punctured lungs which hurt like a bitch. I hadn’t been scared to marry a witch, either, just irritated it was necessary for my pack’s survival.

But when Talia began to seize in my arms yesterday, it felt like someone punched through my ribcage and fisted my heart, squeezing, weighing whether I got to keep breathing or not. Much worse than a punctured lung or broken ribs, for the record.

I’m falling for her.

As in who she is as a person, not a thought to the incredibly sexy package she came in.

My dick twitches, calling me a liar, and fine. All I do when she’s around is have dirty thoughts about her curves and getting her naked and moaning beneath me, and how lucky I am to be the guy who gets to watch it sashay as we hike our way down this mountain.

But underneath all that, as surprising as it is—most of all to me—I admire who she is as a person. From her stubbornness to her humor to that quiet kindness she tries to hide under her sarcasm. All the determined parts of her that keep showing up when others would’ve given up by now.

She didn’t have it easy growing up—no question. And maybe that’s why there’s something in me that reaches for her, even when my prejudices insist I shouldn’t. That wounded part of my soul I like to keep buried—losing my mother, father, and two sisters—it wakes up around her.

I’m not sure if it’s being around a witch or if it’s telling me not to fail this time around.

It was my job to protect them.

My mother and father were warriors, trained in battle. But my sisters... they were just kids. They’d tease each other endlessly and beg for piggyback rides like the one I gave Talia yesterday. They’d ask me to read them stories in order to fall asleep, and I’d always get talked from one into two.

They didn’t get a happy ending. Why should I? Why should any creature responsible for putting them through that? And yes, I meant witches, but I’m not sure what I mean anymore.

For the first time in this whole forced-marriage process, I actually let myself imagine a child of my own. One that’s part me, part Talia.

My youngest sister had caramel-colored highlights in her hair, her skin fair enough we teased her she was the gringo of the family. In my mind’s eye, I see a little one with my coloring and caramel-colored curls, an adorable blend of me and Talia that looks a bit like Mariana. As my youngest sister was also our prissiest family member, the comparison makes me smile bigger.

I can see them laughing with Conall and Kerrigan’s kid as we all watch on from the porch. Giving them the safe place to run and play we dreamed of giving others one day.

That’s a future worth fighting for.

A protective surge slams into me so hard that my fangs elongate, the tips of my claws coming out to dig into my palms as I clench my fists and blow a breath out my nose. I’ll do anything to keep the woman sleeping next to me safe.

Talia’s breath hitches, picking up as her eyelashes flutter open. With a contented hum, she stretches against me. The thin fabric ofmyT-shirt does very little to hide the nipples now pressing forward to greet the morning, much like my morning wood’s cropped up again to say hello.

Despite the slight discomfort as I shift from a less squished position, I can’t complain.

I get to lie here, watching Talia greet the day, the sunlight glimmering in her curls and dancing over her skin as if equally eager to get its hands on her.

---