Page 10 of Mane Squeeze
Before Lillith could protest, she was yanked into a booth. Dominic followed—obliged by curse and circumstance—and slid into the seat across from them with casual grace, his thigh brushing hers beneath the table.
Twyla’s eyes twinkled like faelight. Lillith yanked her leg away, scowling.
“So,” Twyla purred, chin propped in her hand. “Tell Auntie Twy everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Lillith muttered, glaring down at the menu as if it personally offended her. “We’re cursed. We’re trying to break it.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.”
She whipped her head toward him, glare full of hexes. “Do youwantme to test the exploding toe spell?”
Twyla snorted. “Oh, I’msureyou’re eager to be free of him. And here I thought you’d be thrilled to have a strong, shirtless protector at your side twenty-four-seven.”
“Twyla.”
“I mean, Lils… come on. You’ve spent the last decade treating emotional intimacy like it’s a dark curse. Maybe this one’s a gift-wrapped kick in the rear from the universe. Get laid. Loosen up.”
Lillith’s jaw dropped. Her whole body lit up in a rage-flush that ran from her collarbone to her scalp. “That isnothelpful.”
Twyla grinned. “Oh, I think it’sexactlywhat you needed to hear.”
She disappeared into the kitchen in a whirl of rose-scented flour and sass.
Lillith sank into her seat like she’d been shot.
“I hate her,” she muttered.
“No, you don’t,” Dominic said, calm as ever, sipping from the water carafe. “You love her.”
“Not. Right. Now.”
He chuckled, and the sound stirred something traitorous inside her—something warm and dangerous that she immediately shoved down.
Twyla returned ten minutes later with a plate of waffles that could solve world wars—stacked high, drizzled in enchanted honey that shimmered like sunlit water, whipped cream sculpted into tiny stars.
Dominic inhaled his like a man cursed with hunger. Lillith pushed hers around her plate, appetite lost to fury and indignation.
“Alright,” Twyla finally said, sliding into the booth beside Lillith. “Real talk? You’re not going to break the curse with brute force.”
Lillith stiffened. “I canunravelit. If I isolate the spell threads?—”
“Nope,” Twyla said, popping the “p” with relish. “Thaloryn didn’t tie you up with ordinary magic. This is legacy bonding—blood-threaded, fae-woven, tethered to soul patterning and reinforced with proximity seals.”
“I understood like… half of that,” Dominic mumbled around a bite of waffle.
Twyla ignored him. “You and tall, golden, and aggravating are locked tighter than a moonstone vault. You’d needhisconsent,yourwillingness, and a celestial convergence tomaybebreak it.”
“I don’t need permission,” Lillith snapped. “I need toundothe curse.”
Twyla leaned in, suddenly serious. “You can’t. Not without unraveling part of yourself in the process. This thing? It’s not just in your magic anymore, Lils. It’s in you. All the way down.”
Lillith didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Because that was the part that scared her most. That this wasn’t just some tether. That it waschangingher. Reaching into parts of herself she’d locked away long ago.
They left soon after, quiet on the walk home. Twyla had given her a cinnamon scone for the road, enchanted to soothe nerves.
It did not work.
