Page 32 of Enspelled

“Not hungry,” I mumble, batting aside the sharp pointy thing digging into my right cheek.

“But I am,” a male voice murmurs, right into my left ear.

My eyes snap open. I tear my face from the thing it’s stuck against as my gaze clashes with a blue-eyed, humor-filled stare. Bodie.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he says, a slow smile stretching across his face.

Lifting my hand, I wipe away any drool I might have around my mouth. “No, I’m not.”

He nods. “You are. You were hugging the grimoire as if it were a security blanket. Do all witches hug their grimoires in their sleep? Because I have to tell you—”

“Sera!” The soft tread of footsteps moving up the stairs is enough to send shock waves rippling through me. My eyes flash to the morning light spilling in through my window. It’s too bright for it to be six, or even seven. If Mom decides to investigate why I’m up so late when I’m usually up earlier than she is…

I’m up and out of the bed, wincing at the twinge in my back and neck from having fallen asleep in what has to be the most awkward position ever.

Bodie reclines against the headboard, arms folded across his chest and looking so rested, it’s as if he’s just had twelve perfect hours of sleep.

“I’m coming!” I shout back, and then hold my breath as I wait to see whether it’s enough to stop her from venturing up any further.

The footsteps pause, and then retreat. “Okay, hurry up. I have to talk to you.”

I gaze at the bedroom door with a frown creasing my brow.

About what?

It can’t be because of Bodie. If she knew he’d made himself comfortable on my bed like this, there’s no way she’d be calling me down to talk. She’d be bursting through the door and hitting him with every spell she knew, and what Mom lacks in sheer power, she more than makes up for in determination. So, while she might not kill him, he’d be more than limping when she was through with him.

Sniffing distracts me from the white door, and I turn back to the wolf stretched out on my bed as sunlight from the windows streams over him. “I smell bacon.” He sniffs again. “And sausage.”

I stalk toward the door. “I’m not bringing you any food. And if you were smart, you’d be gone by the time I come back up here.”

I don’t wait for a response before I slip outside, pulling the door closed behind me. Luckily, being an only child means I don’t have to worry about having a nosy brother or sister going into my room, but leaving my door open is just asking for trouble.

Mom already has a plate filled with bacon, sausage, eggs, and hash browns set on the dining table in the light-filled wooden kitchen.

“Morning, Mom,” I say as I drop into my seat and reach for the cup of black tea. I’ve never understood how anyone can drink coffee, but maybe it’s the witch in me that will always appreciate tea more.

“You look like you slept in your clothes.” Mom, wearing a peach-colored dress with her honey-brown hair styled in a sleek bun, doesn’t try to hide the disapproval in her voice. If she ever came down for breakfast in PJs or a robe, it must have happened before I was born.Longbefore I was born.

I dart a glance down, taking in the sleep-rumpled black and gray flannel shirt over my no doubt equally crumpled baggy jeans. “I was reading and fell asleep.”

She sighs heavily, and without looking at her, I know annoyance will have creased her eyes and tightened her lips. “Sera… what have I told you about—”

“I know, but I’m working on a new spell,” I lie, bending my head to cut into my sausage so she won’t see my wince.

Just because Mom has spent all my life pushing me in a direction I never wanted to go in doesn’t make it any easier to lie to her.

“Homework from Layla?” Pride swamps irritation, just as I knew it would. If anything is going to distract Mom, it’s hearing that her daughter is receiving special treatment from the coven leader.

“Uh, something like that,” I mutter, hoping to Goddess she doesn’t call Layla to find out what spell I’m working on.

“Well, set it aside for now. Vera has called an emergency meeting, so you should rest in case she needs you to do some spell work.”

I glance over at her as she finishes washing the dishes from breakfast. It’s been years since she actually joined me for breakfast. Not since Dad walked out on us fifteen years ago. Before then, she’d sit with us instead of fussing with something in the kitchen.

From what little I remember of him, I never got the impression they were in love. Mostly that Mom’s parents expected to marry, and Dad just happened to be the person she settled with. So when she called me down from my room and told me Dad had moved out, it didn’t come as a surprise to me at all.

He left Madden Grove, and no one has ever seen him again. I can almost visualize an always distracted-looking, dark-haired man with hazel eyes eating breakfast with his new family.

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