Page 43 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“Thanks for making it as awkward as possible,” I mutter with a shake of my head, and Riven’s musical laughter rings out.

“Awkwardwas what you two were doing before—dancing around, wasting all that pent-up energy on the wrong things, fighting when you needed to be fucking.”

“You can stop anytime, you know,” Diego says. “Besides, if anyone’s going full bloodhound, it should be me.”

“Too true. On both counts.” Riven skips over to my tiny backpack and slings it over their shoulder. “Another hour ofhiking and we’ll reach the summit. Now that you’ve stopped fighting the mate bond, we can actually use it.”

Over the nexttwohours, we hiked in mostly silence.

At hour one, when I complained like a little kid about not being there yet, Riven replied they’d forgotten to account for my slow, human pace. Then I had to be offended over being called slow and human, when again, a normal human, no magic or powers, is all I ever wanted to be.

As the trail we’re blazing narrows and inclines, Diego tosses his pack at Riven and demands to piggyback me the rest of the way.

I’m too tired—and too slow, evidently—to protest.

When Riven grouses over the weight of the pack as we get going again, they and Diego get into a spat over who’s the strongest, and in the next instant, I’m not just being carried to the summit, I’m riding sidecar in a supernatural race I never agreed to be part of.

It does the job, though, and we reach the summit within twenty minutes.

While the air is noticeably chillier at this elevation, dropping down to temperatures we’ve only experienced at night, I immediately feel why Riven brought us here. Magic wells up from the rocks and sings through the trees, the threads I typically see more like a golden rope. Everywhere I look, there are threads upon threads, twisting up through every blade of grass and buzzing bee.

It’s like tapping directly from the source, and it chases my goosebumps and any thoughts of cold far, far away.

Now I’m humming with both the power and the mate bond, to the point I think someone could charge their phone if they just plugged it into me.

My inner magic surges, ready and waiting. But at the mere thought of ripping apart the threads of our universe to get to the dreary realm between, it screams out a warning.

This is how it starts,something inside me whispers.This is how you become her.

Andromeda used magic like a weapon set to destruction. For most of my life, she’s been set on eradicating every supernatural faction outside of covens: no chances, no mercy, just devastating precision.

I could still hear the screams.

They’d echo through the trees as I stood stunned and helpless at my mother’s side, watching as she gathered another fireball in her hands and set another home ablaze without pause.

If that was the definition of strength, I’d choose weakness every day.

I don’t want to be a woman who trades kindness and genuine relationships for command and control, until she becomes something sharp and soulless herself.

Until nothing’s left.

Some doors aren’t meant to be opened.

Go too deep, and you might lose yourself as well.

“Ready when you are,” Riven says, but it sounds more likehurry it up, we have a job to do.

They’re right, so I nod to Diego, who sets himself behind me, arms loosely wound around my middle.

I flatten my hands, spreading them apart like I’m opening a double barn door, and release the power I gathered in my limbs from the supercharged ground.

The fissure in front of me seals itself off before it even fully forms, and it must be because I’ve tuned into every living and breathing thing that I feel Riven’s disappointment so sharply.

Wait. They’re neither living nor breathing, so how can that be?

My connection to the Hollow flickers out, a phone call with a weak signal that’s abruptly dropped. It’s exactly what’s happened before.

I plant my feet firmer and try again, only to get the same sputtering response. A mere peek inside, and then it’s sealed off to me. Ever since my first trip venturing into the Hollow, when I felt that disturbing level of despair, I’m scared of what’ll greet me—scared of getting stuck inside forever—which is probably why I haven’t had much success.

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