Page 18 of Mane Squeeze
She pointed a finger. “Don't you dare finish that sentence.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Not saying a word.”
Peony finally released her hostage and padded smugly to the corner.
Lillith blew a curl out of her face and sighed. “I need a vacation.”
“We’re on house arrest. That counts.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here I am. Still not hexed.”
She shoved past him to the stove and snatching her journal, muttering about tea and curses and how she should’ve summoned agoatinstead.
Dominic stood in the middle of the room, one hand still tingling from where it almost—almost—touched her cheek.
His lion was pacing again, tail lashing with anticipation.
It was getting harder to tell if the tether was keeping them together… or just giving them permission to finally close the distance.
8
LILLITH
The cottage had finally unsealed itself with a reluctant sigh, like even the magic was tired of their bickering. Lillith hadn’t realized how much she missed the simple act of walking outside—feeling the ground breathe beneath her boots, the weight of the woods pressing in like a familiar hug. She’d always loved her home, loved the quiet charm of its creaky floors and herb-drenched air… but being trapped with Dominic Kane in such close quarters had made even the coziest corner feel like a cage.
Now that they could move beyond her garden without triggering a curse-induced migraine, she didn’t hesitate. She needed space. Answers. Air that hadn’t been recycled through Dominic’s smirks and lion-sized ego. Not that he was far—he couldn’t be—but at least now she could pretend they weren’t tethered at the soul.
And Echo Woods—wild, ancient, whispering Echo Woods—seemed to sense her need.
Today, the air was thick with voices.
Not wind. Not animals. Not the rustle of dry leaves under boot soles. No—these were the kinds of whispers that wrappedaround your spine, soft as silk and twice as dangerous. Words half-heard, truths half-known, carried on the hush of old magic. The kind that pressed against your ribs like a secret trying to get out.
Lillith had walked these woods hundreds of times. Alone, mostly. Sometimes with Twyla if there was an eclipse or a strong moon pull. But never like this.
Never with him.
She glanced over her shoulder. Dominic wasn’t far—couldn’t be. His boots crunched quietly just behind hers, thirty feet being the edge of their invisible leash. Still, the space between them felt more crowded than it should have. Like the air had rearranged itself to fit the shape of him.
He didn’t speak, for once. Just watched the trees, the worn path, her back.
They were looking for signs. Anything the spirits might cough up. Answers, direction, a way to untangle the binding spell that had turned their lives into a soap opera with magical claws.
The path narrowed as they reached a patch where moonlight poured through the branches like a sieve of silver. The trees here bent slightly inward, trunks older than some kingdoms, bark split and shimmering faintly with moss and old enchantments.
Lillith slowed.
Dominic stopped with her. “This where the creepy part starts?”
She glanced at him. His smile was half-hearted this time, like he was trying to be funny but not really feeling it.
“It’s always been the creepy part,” she murmured, voice low. “It just doesn’t mind me as much.”
They walked on. After a few steps, she spoke again. “You know, I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“I figured.”
