Page 67 of His Whispered Witch

“And you’re helping her,” Malcolm said with a smirk.

Of course, he would know. He would see it and sense it and probably smell it. Hell, Asher’s wolf might be blabbing right now. Normally, the human half could listen in on what the wolves were saying to each other, but Asher lost that privilege a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Malcolm said, “if you weren’t sharing that.”

“No, it’s good,” she squeaked, her arms wrapped around herself.

Malcolm froze. “And what the hell is that?”

“This is Oz,” Penn said. “He’s a bearded dragon.”

“Oh, Moira is gonna love you,” Malcolm muttered.

“Who?”

“Never mind. You’ll meet them all. Probably at first light.”

“Sorry,” Asher repeated.

“Is she another animal witch?” Penn asked.

Malcolm’s gaze sharpened. “Are you?”

“Hell, yeah,” Asher said and then winced. Was that something you just randomly announced? Was it private information? Somebody needed to write an etiquette handbookfor when a wolf fell in love with a witch and fled their normal coven and introduced them to their family the month they met.

“I think I love you,” Malcolm said.

Asher’s wolf flared, and Malcolm’s hands flew up. “Not like that, you idiot.” The words were casual, but the push behind them wasn’t casual at all.

“The love of his life is sleeping upstairs,” Asher said to Penn in case she also misinterpreted his words, given that Malcolm was prone to terrible announcements.

“The two loves of my life,” Malcolm said with satisfaction.

“His daughter,” Asher said quickly, then threw up his hands. “Not that there’s anything wrong with two? But not for him. Or me!”

Penn snickered, and another piece of his heart relaxed.

Malcolm’s eyes bounced between them. “So I started the story. How does it end?”

God, if only he knew.

“I’m home to stay,” Asher said and bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say it for weeks or months or possibly until after her spell worked, but he was too exhausted for this, and Malcolm’s wolf was a force against his mind. “She is, too.”

Malcolm looked at her.

“Do I put in a petition?” Penn asked, trying for bravado, though her voice shook.

“A petition to stay?” Malcolm said.

“Look,” Penn said. “I’m really not good at diplomacy or politics or lying. I spend too much time around animals who don’t do any of that shit. Not that there isn’t animal politics, but it’s the kind where everybody just knows who’s the strongest and the weakest, and if they don’t, they butt heads until they do. Literally. I fled my first coven when it was taken over, and I fled my second coven when I met him, and I don’t know what we are to each other, and I don’t know if it’s going to be possible for meto stay, but I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I’d like to say that this is just going to be a trial balloon, and we’re all casual, and?—”

“Take a breath, baby,” Asher said, alarmed.

Penn took a huge breath. “But I don’t know if I could do it a third time. I’m just not that kind of person.”

She took his hand, and the warm contact seared him.

“None of this is casual,” Asher said, wanting so much to be sane and strong for her and Malcolm, to be worthy of their love and care, and not be sitting on a time bomb of a wolf.

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