Page 31 of His Whispered Witch

Penn seemed to think it was an inherent problem, not something she could fix.

He hadn’t thought a lot about where the venom came from. He’d grown up with the usual warnings about being prepared to kill anything you bite, including yourself. He didn’t think of the snake as having any kind of consciousness or presence within him. He’d never felt like he could converse with the snake the way he did constantly with his wolf.

He was more careful now as he dipped the next little ball into dark caramel and fixed it to its neighbors, keeping his fingertips well clear. There was a string of thin sugar that looked like a spiderweb from the pot to the plate. Well, he had spun sugar on his list of things to try. Why not this morning?

This wasn’t enough. He knew this wasn’t enough. He would be a Michelin-star chef in open flame cooking and still be absolutely crazy in another few months, but it was all he had.

He heard a car door slam and froze.

He hadn’t heard it approach.

Was it her? Had she come back? Was she more to him than just an animal witch?

His wolf didn’t answer.

He knew from his cousins that the wolf would know their mate. His wolf wasn’t healthy enough to even stay in control. How would it know?

He knew this wasn’t healthy, his obsession with her. He knew his desire for her was wrapped up in his desire for her to save him, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping.

He looked down at the pathetic ring of profiteroles, three rows high, and looked around for a place to hide them. There was none. He lived in a single room. He leaned forward quickly and undid the latch of the window above the counter and threw the thing, plate and all, out the window.

Then he looked at a pile of empty choux buns and quickly tossed them. All he had left was a bowl of crème diplomat and a pot of rapidly cooling and, therefore, hardening caramel. He put the pot in the sink rather than start a forest fire as she knocked on the door.

He rushed to open it, and she looked relieved. “Thank god, you’re human.”

He grinned, bolstered by her happiness, but then faltered. Was she relieved and happy because she was afraid of the wolf or was she happy to see him?

Please don’t be insane,he told himself, because that always worked.

He opened the door wide. “Come in!” He paused. “If you want to.”

She nodded quickly and stepped through the door. “Oh my god, what smells so good?”

He examined the counter and the lone bowl of pastry cream he hadn’t thrown out the window. “Vanilla pudding?”

She blinked and looked back at him. She was wearing another sparkly top today over jeans and practical boots, and he realized her hair was a little longer and longed to run his hand over her head to see how soft and spiky it was. Instead, he ran a hand over his hair, so long now. When did he last cut it?

He leaned over, grabbed the bowl, and handed it to her. She perched on the bed and took a bite with the huge stirring spoon left in it. She’d stood up to eat the curry; did she feel more comfortable now? He rolled his eyes. There was magic for reading minds, but he didn’t have it. He had to stop trying.

“Holy god, this is spectacular!”

“Thank you. What is your favorite dessert?”

She blinked and thought about that. “I don’t know. Something with cheese?”

He swallowed. “You want a dessert with cheese?”

“Yeah, you know, like cheesecake.”

“Oh! Right.” Until this moment, he had forgotten that entire genre existed. He’d have to pick up some cream cheese. His wolf wanted to go right now.

Asher stopped, shocked. It was the first non-destructive human impulse he’d seen from the wolf in years.

Do you want to go get cream cheese to make cheesecake?

But it was already gone and ignoring him again. Was that a good sign?

“This is so not the conversation I was expecting to have,” Penn said with a laugh.

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