Page 23 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“Be nice.” Nissa thwacks him in the chest, saving me from having to.

Wait, I want to do the thumping, and I’m not even sure which kind I’m talking about anymore.

My skin prickles at a familiar honeysuckle vanilla scent that filters through the campfire smoke and the rest of the crowd. I’m like Pepe Le Pew floating after his lady love, a sexy cat he honestly has no chance with.

Shit. That comparison feels more and more apt by the second.

Figures I’d end up being some overly confident skunk who drools over some woman, calling her“ma chérie”while unaware of my own powerful stench.

Several pack members pass by with nods or raised bottles. I bob my head and mumble replies and lift my own beer in response—but I don’t take my eyes off the blonde at the edgeof the circle, her features illuminated in flickering waves as she steps closer to the glow of the firelight.

The magnetic pull in the center of my chest grows impossible to ignore, and then I’m excusing myself and making my way across the space to intercept my beautiful bride. And for the record, referring to her as “beautiful” isn’t me being a softie or any sort of admission of feelings—any idiot could see it as well as I could, she was a certified knockout.

“Hey,” I say as I approach her, suddenly struggling for words. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, well.” Natalia shuffles her feet, her gaze remaining fixed on the motion. “I’ve never been to a bonfire or had s’mores before, so I couldn’t resist.”

I know I’m looking at her like she started speaking another language, but I continue to stare far past the polite range.

She hugs one arm around her middle, fingers wrapping around the other above the elbow. “What?”

“Sorry. Camping is such a big part of our life and always has been.” Despite telling myself to play it cool, I can feel my eyebrows scrunching together. “You’ve never had s’mores?”

“Never,” she says. “I always wanted to try one, but my mother said fires were for cauldrons.”

I honestly have no idea whether she’s kidding or not. About the cauldron. The claim about never having a s’more rings true, but there’s always an erratic spike in her pulse when she speaks about Andromeda. “Let’s get you a good stick and roast you some marshmallows.”

Natalia shuffles a couple of steps closer and rocks onto the balls of her feet, fiddling with one of her golden curls. “Aren’t you going to tell me I need to roast a wiener first?”

“Trust me, I’d never tell you such a thing.” Flashing her a lopsided smile, I place a protective hand over my package,adding an extra barrier to the denim. “Call it a hunch, but I think you might consider it a challenge.”

She laughs full out, this intoxicating noise of pure joy and,fuck me, I’m going to spend the entire night trying to earn another. “And who says you’re not smart?”

“Nobody better be saying that.” I crack my knuckles in mock threat.

“You know that a show of brute force isn’t exactly pleading a good case for you, right?”

“Then I suppose I’ll use that brute force to help you make dessert.”

“Oh, it’s undeniably going to be my dinner, too.” She hooks her fingers in the crook of my arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but the humor fades from her features as she looks around the fire.

I follow suit, a second behind, and a low rumble vibrates from my throat at what I see.

Glares.

Resentment and animosity.

If anyone deserves to feel that way, it’s me, so they can get the fuck over it, and quick.

I raise my voice to be heard over the din of conversation and roar of the fire. “Natalia is my wife and my mate, and she’s to be treated with the utmost respect. She’s under our protection.” Letting the gold roll over my eyes, I go ahead and infuse the full alpha stare that requires submission. “Undermyprotection. She’s one of ours now, and anyone who has a problem with that is free to take it up with me.”

Silence stretches out for a handful of seconds, the crackling of the fire and breeze in the trees the only sound.

An affirmative verbalization from the group accompanies nods before they return to their own business, as it should be.

Placing my hand over the hand Natalia keeps at my elbow, I stride toward the table with all the food.

“I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I doubt that’ll make me any more popular,” she says.

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