Page 18 of The Hive Queen

honey not home

- Flint -

If the lackof cars in the garage didn’t clue me in, the lack of coffee scenting the air when I open the door into the house announces I’m alone. When someone is here, there’s always a pot of coffee brewing.

Stepping into the hall, I wait for Anny to join me and check the time. Pen’s usually home by now, but I don’t have any messages from her saying she’ll be late.

Guilt shoots through me because it’s not like I let her know I’d be late, either. In fact… I scroll through our recent chat history. We haven’t texted each other with those kinds of updates at all in the last few weeks.

I’ve been so busy at the Conservatory that coming home late has become a pattern, and somewhere along the way, she had stopped asking when I’d be home.

Pen’s always been like that, staying silent even when she’s not happy. She pulls in on herself so as to not rock the boat. I’m used to Marc being around to kick my ass into gear when I get too caught up in myself, and I do the same in return. But he’s been gone for two weeks now, with no sign of when he’ll come back, and Pen just keeps getting quieter and quieter.

I look down at my familiar. “I think we fucked up, Mable.”

She pulls her ears back and bares her teeth.

I hold up my hands in self-defense. “Okay, not Mable. I’ll keep trying.”

In my bedroom, I change into pajamas before walking out to the kitchen to see what’s in the fridge. When I open the door, the shelves are distressingly empty. Usually, there’s a plate or bowl waiting for me with a little note from Pen letting me know she was thinking about me and hoped I had had a good day.

It’s always been the rule that the first one home makes dinner to ease the burden on the others, but Pen’s been the first one home for a while now, which has left her dealing with everything.

I shut the fridge and open the cupboards, looking for something I can put together. We have dried pasta, but no cheese or red sauce. We have cornbread, but no beans or chicken. There are a lot of options, but nothing that pulls together as a meal.

Should I order delivery? Cold pizza isn’t bad, but I feel like an asshole already, and leaving cold pizza for Pen just makes it worse. Like I just assumed she’d take care of it, so here’s my cold attempt to provide for the family.

And Ididassume. I should have checked in before I headed home, at the very least. It’s not Pen’s job to make me dinner.

I pull out the grain-free dog food and fill the bowl next to the island.

When my familiar gives a sharp yip, I sigh. “I know you don’t like it. I’m a horrible witch who doesn’t deserve you, but we’re all out of the fresh stuff.”

Pen doesn’t evenlikemy familiar and still makes sure there’s a bowl of mixed vegetables and mice for her to munch on right next to our dinners.

That had taken some getting used to, seeing rodents stocked in the fridge alongside our food. But the longer I’ve had my familiar, the more she’s become like a fox from the human plane. She stillwantsthe cream and honey, but those are treats now instead of meals, no matter how much she complains about it.

I reach out to rub her soft, pointed ears, coaxing them back up. “We’ll go out to the woods in the morning, and you can practice your hunting, okay? I bet there are some nice, juicy rodents for you to catch.”

Even though my familiar is a fox, she’s more like a domesticated pet who was never taught life skills. But we’re working on it. If it weren’t so late already, I’d go outside with her now. But I’m still not sure she won’t run off and get eaten by a bigger predator. My girl has zero fear, even when she should. Being a fox spirit for so long will do that, I suppose.

She trots forward and licks my face before lowering her head to nibble the kibble.

“Thank you for understanding, Trinity,” I whisper.

Her ears flick backward, and her tail tucks between her legs.

Sighing, I rise back to my feet. “Iwillfind a name for you that’s notAnny. Just you wait.”

The rumble of the garage door vibrates the floor, and I hurry down the hall. Popping the top few buttons on my alien pajamas, I strike a sexy pose against the wall.

The door to the basement swings open, and Sharpe pauses as he takes me in. “Well, this is…a treat?”

“Oh, it’s just you.” I straighten and head back toward the kitchen. “I thought you were Pen.”

“You’d win her over faster if you were holding a mug of coffee.” He follows me. “I thought she’d be home already, and I brought Hoppers for dinner.”

I freeze before spinning on one fluffy sock-covered heel to narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

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