Page 23 of Bewitched By the Voodoo King
I shook my head. “Our coven had almost everything we needed, so I was never really sent to town to get things. I don’t know,” I flattened the blankets over my lap. “Your world is different here. Even if I had gone to town, I doubt I would have ever met anyone who was another supernatural. They don’t exactly care for our kind of witches.”
He watched me with his light, inhuman eyes, and I felt myself shrink under his unwavering gaze. “New Orleans is a world of its own. I often forget that. I’m sorry. But also, you shouldn’t have ever left the compound. Wolves could have been lurking last night, and I was out and about looking for you two.”
There it was.
I nodded my head. I didn’t understand his fear, but I also had never been through what they had. What we had done was foolish, though I would never admit it. I got to feel alive for at least a few hours and not like I was under a microscope.
He sighed. “Maple.” He ran a hand down his face. “I would love for you to experience all of the magic that New Orleans has to offer, but not before we figure out what’s happening with the wolves.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “One day, I’m going to take you dancing and to the best beignets and do all of the things, but for now, I just need you to be safe, okay?”
Take me dancing? Show me the magic of New Orleans? What was happening? Had I done something weird last night that I didn’t remember?
“Get dressed,” He nodded toward the end of the bed, where lo and behold, my trunk was waiting. “We need to talk. Meet me in the library after you’re ready.”
My heart did a stupid, fluttery little thing when he saidtake me dancing. And then it tripped all over itself atbeignets.
What was happening?
This was Rune. Stoic. Broody. King of the death magic shadows. The same man who’d practically glared me into silence the day I arrived.
Now he was talking about midnight dances and pastries like we weren’t locked in some tense, borderline-political, fake marriage-for-alliance-sake situation.
Andmy trunk—my glorious, familiar trunk—was at the foot of the bed like a beacon of home.
The lock on it was forged in magic, thanks to my father. I held my palm around it, and it unlocked with a softclick. The smell of home immediately enveloped me as the lid opened, and I sighed. My clothes were on top, thankfully. I reached in to scoop up as many items as I could, and then clicked the lock back in place.
I cradled the bundle of clothes to my chest and just stood there for a second, breathing it in. The scent of my favorite lavender sachet drifted up from the layers. A sharp ache pulsed behind my ribs as I closed my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I missedthis. The weight of my own shirts and the softness of worn fabric that had been washed a hundred times by hands that loved me.
I picked a soft cotton dress from the pile—sage green with little embroidered moons along the hem—and tugged it on over my body. I wanted a shower, but I knew there was no point in trying to squeeze one in. As much as I wanted to avoid Rune and his important talk, I knew I needed to hear whatever it was. Plus, I was curious and would have the worst fear of missing out later.
I lingered in the doorway,watching Rune for a moment before announcing my presence.
Rune—death magic royalty, stoic brooding king of furrowed brows—was sunken into a giant navy bean bag like some dark academia burnout. A book rested on one knee, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and the flames from the hearth cast dancing shadows across his sharp jawline.
It should’ve looked ridiculous.
It didn’t.
It looked like something out of a storybook. One of the good ones where the meanie guy softens for the girl who knows how to look past his thorns. I cleared my throat.
His eyes flicked up immediately, and for a second—just a beat—they softened. “Nice dress.”
I blinked. “Thanks. I figured it was perfect for a ‘fake-marriage-library-summoning’ kind of day.”
His mouth curved just slightly, but he didn’t bite back with one of his usual jabs. Instead, he set the book aside and gestured toward the armchair across from him. “Sit.”
I did as I was told and carefully tucked my feet underneath me across from him.
“We need to get to know each other because the longer you’re in this coven and we don’t introduce you… the higher chance that rebellion will happen. My people are afraid—rightfully so—and you’re an outsider.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner.” He shook his head, and the little golden beads on his locs shimmered in the dim light. “You deserved a proper welcoming, but instead you got a grief ridden intended and zero introduction to our customs.”
“I wasn’t exactly very understanding. I’ve never lost anyone before.”
He shook his head. “You are meant to have the highest honor in our coven, and I disrespected you. It hit me last night that I’ve been unfair to you.”
I was stunned speechless.
“My people aren’t ready for the marriage contract or to know about why you’re really here, but they need sunshine and light…” He cleared his throat. “They need a reason to be happy, and you are a beacon for it.”
Me?
