Chapter 14. Blaise
I could watch my mate brew potions all day.
There was a beauty to her magic—effortless and instinctive.
She worked tirelessly, tending several cauldrons at once, her movements sure and practiced.
Her face scrunched adorably in concentration, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she thought.
When an idea struck, her whole expression brightened, like she’d caught a spark only she could see.
She drifted from cauldron to cauldron, dropping in ingredients as she went, leaning close to sniff the steam as though the scent alone told her what came next.
She was lost in her own little brewing bubble, blissfully unaware of me watching her. And equally unaware that a thoroughly miserable-looking Creep was observing from the living-room window, her glassy eyes tracking Caitlyn’s every movement.
As I unconsciously rubbed a finger over my now fully regrown brows, my thoughts drifted back to the night before. Priscilla, archenemy of my mate or not, had been genuinely worried about something. And I didn’t believe for a second that she’d been talking on the phone.
Which meant her warning had been for Creep.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave. It’s not safe.”
But why it wouldn’t be safe for Creep to be here was anyone’s guess. I’d sent my shadows out, carpeting the field, probing for any sign of something amiss. There was nothing. I’d opened my senses, stretching them wide, but there were no malignant emotions lingering in the air.
Maybe she meant a serial arsonist prowled these parts? A squatter waiting to stake a claim the moment we left? One of those thrill-seekers who liked to explore abandoned properties for kicks?
There wasn’t a single scenario my mind could conjure in which Creep couldn’t handle herself.
So why had Priscilla traveled such a distance just to deliver that warning?
Between admiring my mate and pondering scenarios in which Creep might not be safe, I turned my attention to the near-impossible task of erecting the tent.
I liked to think of myself as a worldly, capable demon, but nothing could have prepared me for figuring out where all the poles went or how to build the damn thing single-handedly.
It took a few online videos and every scrap of brainpower I possessed to produce something that roughly resembled a tent-shaped structure.
I prayed there would be no wind or rain for the foreseeable future, otherwise we’d be sleeping in the back of my van.
Task somewhat completed, I turned my attention to the next item on the agenda.
Feeding my mate.
I was a good cook. I didn’t need to eat mortal food, but I’d been determined to learn. Every day we weren’t on a job, I made a point of cooking a meal from scratch—my guinea pig for these culinary experiments being Amb—
Snap.
I sucked in a sharp breath and rubbed at my wrist.
Unfortunately, the only supplies Caitlyn had magicked out of the pantry were ramen noodles.
As I set about boiling water over a makeshift fire—wondering whether Caitlyn would be annoyed if I snuck back into the kitchen for more supplies—my thoughts drifted back to our kiss that morning.
Everything about it had felt right. Initially, I’d wanted to take things slowly, assuming I’d need time to adjust to a new partner.
But that all changed after our kiss. I’d had to physically stop myself from going further.
My body responded to Caitlyn in a way I’d only ever thought possible with Amb—
Snap.
I clenched my jaw.
I wanted her. Desperately. I wanted to feed from her, to pleasure her. I wanted to explore every inch of her—to learn where she found pleasure, what made her laugh, what soothed her when the world weighed too heavily. I wanted to know all of her.
My stomach gurgled as I dropped the noodles into the water.
Caitlyn was right for me in every way. The longer I watched her, the easier it was to picture the life stretching out ahead of us.
I could see her standing over cauldrons in the back of a shop while I served customers out front.
I could see long nights packing sweets into boxes, fulfilling Witchmart orders and teleporting them across the world.
I could see us reconciling with Creep, convincing her to let us do a little DIY to leave our own mark on the house.
We’d spend our evenings curled up by the fire, reruns of Hexes at Noon playing softly in the background.
I could see us making love into the wee hours.
I could see her belly rounded.
I could see our children terrorizing Creep.
I could see us gray and withered, sitting side by side on the front porch, reminiscing about a life filled with warmth and magic and love.
But no matter how hard I tried to will it away, there was the shadow of another threaded through every one of those daydreams.
Snap.
I gritted my teeth, rubbing at the almost-raw skin of my wrist.
There might still be a part of me held by another, but I was working on getting that back. In the meantime, the rest of me belonged to Caitlyn, to do with as she wished.
With the noodles ready, I rose to summon my mate.
The air was thick with layered aromas from her potions—sweet and sharp, soft and spicy, floral and citrus—and every one of them made my mouth water.
Caitlyn stood lost in thought, brows furrowed as she stared into the distance, arms crossed, a wooden spoon tapping absently against her chin.
“Ready for food?” I asked.
Her stomach gurgled at the mention of sustenance, and her body sagged as though she’d finally surrendered the fight to find whatever answer she’d been chasing. She slipped her hand into mine, and I guided her carefully around the cauldrons and over to the fire.
“You looked deep in thought,” I said, handing her a bowl of noodles.
“Just stuck on a missing ingredient,” she replied. “Maybe if we talk about something else, it’ll come to me.”
“How about a Q and A while you eat?”
She nodded, then said through a mouthful of noodles, “You ask first.”
I tapped a finger against my chin, giving her time to finish chewing before asking, “Favorite food?”
She shot me an isn’t-it-obvious look.
“Candy. Of course,” I answered for her.
“It’s like kryptonite for a Myers witch,” she said. Then, with a fresh forkful of noodles hovering near her mouth, she asked, “Favorite music?”
The questions went back and forth until Caitlyn had finished both her bowl of noodles and mine.
In that time, I learned she loved individual songs but wasn’t loyal to any one musician or genre.
To my surprise, given that she was part succubus, her favorite books weren’t romance at all, but horror.
Her favorite color was all of them, and her favorite board game was Monopoly—though no one would play with her anymore because she was, by her own admission, extremely aggressive.
She adored brewing potions but hated cooking, and she practically squealed with delight when I puffed out my chest and declared that I would cook for her from now on.
In a whisper, she confessed she’d probably forgive Creep eventually—but mostly because she wanted to see me in the kitchen, showing off my culinary skills.
She also didn’t own a single matching pair of socks, had an unhealthy obsession with Butterfingers, and dreamed of getting a cat someday.
With every question answered, warmth unfurled in my stomach. Not just desire—though there was plenty of that—but a deep, steady certainty that she was the perfect match for me.
The questions only stopped when my stomach let out a loud gurgle, and Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed.
“Have you remembered the missing ingredient yet?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Anything else I can do to help?”
The flush crept from her cheeks down her neck, but she still shook her head.
My lip quirked into a grin. “Something tells me you’re not being entirely honest with me, Caitlyn.”
“I... well...” She glanced down at her empty bowl, her knee bouncing—an unmistakable sign that a Caitlyn ramble was imminent.
I braced myself, trying not to let the grin spread too wide.
“It’s just... sometimes when I get brewer’s block, I need a bit of an, erm... factory reset,” she said. “Something that completely distracts my mind. Y’know?”
Heat licked up my spine. I rose to my feet and held out my hand to her, my voice dropping to a low rumble as I said, “I know exactly what you mean.”