Page 103 of To Tempt a Witch to Sin

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“Really, I can walk on my own from here,” Hazel said as he carried her up the stairs to the front door of the Murray mansion.

She’d napped during the drive back, and now she foolishly insisted on being all chipper again. As if those forty minutes had somehow made up for her blood loss. Pfft. Stubborn witch.

He set her down to fish for his keys and unlock the door but shot her a quelling look while he was at it. “Yeah, no. I’m picking you right back up again as soon as I’ve got this door open. I’m not taking the risk of you face-planting on the way to the kitchen.”

She grumbled something unintelligible, and he raised his brows at her as he turned the key.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said, tilting his head. “I can’t hear your unreasonable griping over the sound of my taking care of you. Now quit your witching and moaning and let me carry you like a good ma—” He broke off, biting down hard on his tongue to swallow the rest of the word he’d intended to say.

Mate.

Like a good mate.

Dammit, even his speech was slipping out of his control. He had to get a fucking handle on this, or else he’d botch it all up. He needed to ask her to mate with him when the conditions were right, when he’d laid the groundwork and eased his way up to the question. If he gave away his plan by a slip of the tongue or some aberrant behavior, it might just make her shy away.

He was lucky she’d falsely interpreted his earlier episode of Mating Urge Gone Wild as some stolen memories wreaking havoc on his mind. But if he continued to act out because he lost control of his baser instincts, she would catch on to what the fuck was wrong with him.

Clearing his throat, he opened the door and went to pick her up again as she jerked, her eyes fixed beyond him on something in the foyer.

“Rose,” she whispered.

He whipped around, and sure enough, Rose was standing in the middle of the wide foyer, frozen midmovement like she’d just been on her way out. She was dressed in her usual partying attire, too, and given the fact that the sun was just setting on the horizon, yeah, she was probably heading out to join her demon friends for their nighttime activities.

Hazel had apparently recovered from her initial surprise and now took a few steps closer to Rose, and Tallak watched her like a hawk, ready to jump forward and catch her should she collapse again.

“I’m sorry,” Hazel said without preamble. “For last night. For going into your room, and, more importantly, for assuming you might have something to do with the murders. It was wrong of me to suspect you. I don’t think you would do something like that. You’re my daughter, and I love you, and I only want to see you happy.” She balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her chest. Her eyes glistened in the light of the chandelier. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Rose studied her for a long moment, her face impassive. Then she blinked and said, “Okay.”

A visible jolt went through Hazel. “Really? Are we…are we good?”

Rose’s dark brows drew together, and her eyes flicked to Tallak, confusion in her gaze.

He’d spent enough time with her to instantly read her cues, and he cleared his throat and explained in Fae the colloquial term Hazel had used. “She’s asking to make sure that everything’s cleared up between you two and there aren’t any hard feelings.”

Understanding flickering across her face, Rose lifted her chin and glanced back at Hazel. Her shrug made her leather jacket creak softly. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

She walked past Hazel toward the door, and Tallak stepped aside to let her through.

“Wait,” Hazel said, her voice tight. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I’ll make you something. Whatever you want.”

Rose paused at the door and looked back at her mother. “No, thank you. I’ll eat outside.”

She left without another word, drawing the door closed behind her. The deep thunk of it falling shut echoed in the oppressively quiet foyer. Tallak’s eyes tracked to Hazel, who stood in the middle of the cavernous room, right where her daughter had stood just moments earlier. Hazel’s shoulders slumped, her face a study in despondency. She looked so lost, so forlorn, like a dog who’d been kicked one too many times and left out in the rain, staring after the retreating form of the person who’d abandoned it.

It made him want to simultaneously punch something until his knuckles bled and take his witch into his arms to soothe away her pain.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to her.

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, lifted to his face. “If you tell me she’s going to come around, she just needs time, I will magically choke you.”

He paused and tilted his head as if in consideration. “You know, that’s never been my kink, but I am always open to exploring new sexual activities.”

She uttered a sound between a tear-soaked chuckle and a scoff, and some of the abject dejection left her face.

“Come here, love.” He enfolded her in his arms and pulled her close.

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