Page 14 of Enspelled

“Is there anything else pups do that I should be aware of?”

He shrugs. “The same sort of things young dogs would.”

Panic has my eyes widening as I recall what else might have happened. “I wasn’t trying to hump your leg in the truck, was I?”

Just because I don’t remember doing it doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened.

Is that why he didn’t kiss me back in the truck? I’d just humped his leg?

He doesn’t say a word, but he turns around so quickly that I know I must have done it.

How do you hump someone’s leg and not even remember doing it?

Maybe it’s a good thing, because I have a feeling it’s the sort of thing that will live on in your memories for life.

“No.”

Why is his voice choked like that?

I hurry after him. “Tell me, Keane, because I swear I didn’t mean to do it. It was like the butterfly. It was so pretty, and I wanted to tear it apart. And Ilovebutterflies.”

His shoulders are shaking, and that’s when it hits me—he’s laughing at me.

“I didn’t hump your leg,” I guess as heat prickles over my cheeks.

Please let that be the reason he’s laughing, and not him remembering something else I did that was just as, if not more, embarrassing.

“Come on. We might as well eat something while we’re here,” he says, sounding a lot less choked than he did before.

Still, I can’t help but note that he doesn’t confirm or deny it.

“I’m not hungry,” I lie as I follow Keane into the kitchen and my stomach grumbles. I hope it’s not loud enough for him to hear it.

When he glances over his shoulder with his eyebrow raised, I stop hoping and head for the refrigerator. “Considering the last thing I ate was a stale muffin, it could have been a lot louder than that,” I mutter.

“Any beer in there?” he calls from behind me.

I stare at the contents of the refrigerator as the urge to cry creeps up on me. “Aunt Mel didn’t…” My voice trails off.

Keane, thankfully, doesn’t ask me to continue. “Steak?”

Aunt Mel had only done the grocery shopping a couple of days before Keane kidnapped me, so the refrigerator is fully stocked. The crisper is nearly overflowing with fresh fruits and veggies. There’s a gallon of milk on the side of the drawer alongside orange juice and a carton of eggs on another shelf. While there’s no steak, there is sausage, bacon, and jerky.

“No, but I could make breakfast for dinner.”

It might help me take my mind off the empty feeling in this house, and what bad thing is going to happen next.

“Sounds good. Does Layla live far?”

I’m reaching for the bacon and sausage when his words make me peer over my shoulder. “We can’t go after Layla if we don’t even know it was her.”

“Yes, we can.”

He’s leaning against a counter, muscled arms folded across his powerful chest. I look away before he notices just how much attention I’m paying to his body. “Why?”

“Because either she was the one responsible for killing my pack, or she was the one who cast the spell that enslaved my pack.” His eyes darken with fury as he speaks, and I’m grateful Abigail was able to convince him it wasn’t me.

Also that there’s a dining table separating us.

---