Hungry As Her Python (Hungry Fur Love #3)

Prologue-Bella

Everything good starts with a leap of faith.

At least, that’s what I’ve learned.

But whoever came up with that cute little Pinterest quote probably wasn’t talking about diving headfirst into a relationship with a giant, smug Shifter who kisses like sin and rearranges your whole life just by looking at you.

Or about running a bakery in a magical town where the probability of a fire, curse, or spontaneous goat stampede is higher than the odds of a cake rising evenly.

Still, I guess I’ve always been the leap-first, pray-later type.

I wasn’t born that way, though.

Once upon a time, I was the opposite.

Quiet.

Timid.

Downright shy.

I was the little Witch who always sat in the back of the classroom, clutching my spell primer like a shield and hoping no one noticed me—because if they didn’t notice me, they couldn’t laugh when my magic fizzled or went sideways, especially when I tried to increase whatever my mom had packed for snack time.

I still remember that first day at the Castor’s Corner Preschool, where most gifted young Witches went.

My hair was in two braids so tight my scalp ached, my shoes were new and pinched my toes, and I was so sure I’d spend the day hiding behind the potted asphodel in the corner until Mommy came to take me home.

And then they walked in.

Donny, with her wild curls, paint-smeared dress, and big eyes, like she already knew every secret worth knowing. And Evie, in a sparkly cape she’d borrowed from her older cousin, marching in like she already ran the place—as she would inevitably run the whole town.

They plopped down on either side of me without so much as a “Can I sit here?” and started chattering like we’d been friends forever.

Donny showed me how to charm the class crayons into coloring by themselves. Evie slipped me one of the gummy frogs she’d smuggled in her pocket and swore she’d hex anyone who tried to mess with me.

By the end of that first morning, I wasn’t hiding anymore.

I was laughing.

I was belonging.

That leap of faith—letting them both in—changed my life.

Fast forward a couple of decades, and here we are.

Still besties.

Still causing trouble.

Still saving each other when the cauldron boils over—sometimes literally.

We were the Witch Trifecta of Castor’s Corner—capital T, like it was an official title, which in a way, it kind of was.

Three Witches.

Three different specialties.

Three very different personalities.

Evie Castor was our fearless mayor-slash-overworked miracle worker, all polished poise and political charm—until you put her in a kitchen, then it was may the Goddess help us all.

Donny Andrews was the bold, brash, curse-like-a-sailor hair magician with a flair for drama and an entire drawer of battery-operated stress relievers she’d recently retired when she mated a certain big Bear Shifter who occasionally worked for me and made the best croissants ever.

It was the hands. The man had enormous hands and rolled out a thousand layers faster than my magic could.

But what did you expect? He was a Grizzly Bear, for Pete’s sake!

There was simply no comparison.

And then there was me—Bella Strega.

Baker extraordinaire, Kitchen Witch, and the glue that kept us together, mostly because I bribed them with marshmallow frosted cupcakes.

We didn’t do things the same way—not even close.

Evie planned.

Donny improvised.

I typically winged it with a smile and a pastry box.

But somehow, it worked. It had always worked.

And I never wanted it to change.

Except, well, change was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Like accidentally baking your emotions into a batch of muffins—you didn’t mean to do it, but there they were, puffed up and impossible to ignore.

True friendships endured, at least that’s what they say.

And mine with Evie and Donny? Unshakable.

If the world ended tomorrow, I’d be passing out sugar cookies while Evie organized the evacuation routes and Donny hexed anyone who got in our way.

But this past year?

Oh boy.

We’d had more disruptions to our cozy little slice of South Jersey than in the entire decade before combined.

First came those darned Shifters, wandering into town like the world’s hottest lost-and-found items.

One minute we were minding our business (if Evie being late to our bonfire was minding our own business, then yeah, let’s go with that), the next minute—bam—walking, talking Shifter-sized sex dolls claiming to be our fated mates started popping up everywhere.

Okay, there were only three of them, but sheesh, they were big.

Anyway, then Grandpa Al’s ghost decided the cemetery was the perfect place for a long-term staycation.

And just when we thought we’d seen it all, Magdelena—La Befana, the supreme Witch in these parts who worked directly under the magic-freaking-master Morrigan herself—gifted us three familiars so strange they made even me question the ingredients for my go to chocolate chip pumpkin muffins with chocolate cream cheese frosting.

And trust me, I’ve made those blindfolded wearing nothing but a sequined apron after an all-night Hex & Mingle party over at Castor’s Bar on Woodlock Lane.

So, yeah. We’d been busy.

But if I’m going to tell you the latest story—the one where things went sideways faster than Donny at a clearance sale at Sephora—then we have to roll the clock back.

To the exact moment when the magically mischievous shit hit the metaphorical fan.

And spoiler alert, it wasn’t pretty.

It never was.

Unless you count the sexy Snake Shifter who was right smack dab in the middle of it all.

Palm Sunday–One Week Before Easter

The fire alarm had finally stopped screaming, but my head was still ringing like church bells on a wedding day.

And not in any they lived happily ever after romantic way.

Nope. It was more like the your life is in smoldering ruins kind of way.

I stood in the middle of my shop, staring at the wreckage in total denial.

Broken glass glittered across the floor like some tragic disco ball.

Display cases were toppled, their contents drowned in puddles of dirty water.

My specialty chocolate bunnies had melted into grotesque little blobs.

The Easter panettone? Burned to the kind of crisp that would shatter teeth.

And my egg-shaped cupcakes looked like they’d gone through a demolition derby.

Weeks of work—undone.

Endless hours of baking and chocolate molding—wasted.

All those specialty ingredients I only got once a year—poof, gone!

Easter was ruined.

And I was in emotional shambles.

Why me? Why my shop?

Despair roared to life in my chest, and I wanted to weep.

Now that the danger was over, the adrenaline was crashing hard, leaving me with nothing but the smoke, the soggy mess, and the ugly truth that I was going to have to clean all this up before I could even think about baking again.

Luckily, my familiar was already on it.

Petyr was good like that.

Unfortunately, I was magically bound to only use my Witchcraft in the bakery kitchen itself, which was currently a no-go zone until the mess was cleared.

Petyr, however, had no such limitations. The furry little Domovyk could cast wherever and whenever—though his idea of help was often chaotic at best.

“Bella? Hey, I just wanted to give you an update. The fire is out, but the cause is still a mystery. I’ll be back in a few to help with the cleanup,” Ryan called from the doorway, already climbing back into the big red fire engine.

His flannel was streaked with soot, his hair damp from the spray. The man might be a Grizzly Bear Shifter, but in that moment, he was a firefighter and the savior of my store.

He was also mated to my bestie and cousin, Donny, and he worked as my part-time employee.

I was seriously grateful for all his help, I just did not have the energy to show it right then.

“I’ll be here,” I sang back, trying not to sound defeated.

He was headed back to the Castor’s Corner Firehouse, probably to file reports or scrub soot off the gear. I didn’t ask.

The smoke was stinging my eyes, and my throat felt like I’d swallowed a handful of cinders.

Stinking firebug.

Someone was doing this on purpose.

To me.

I could feel it in my flour-dusted bones. And if I had to hex every last troublemaker in town to find them, I would.

“Petyr? You finished?” I rasped, stepping inside.

“Da, my Witchy. You come now,” he said from right beside me.

I jumped.

“How in the world—”

A coughing fit cut me off, and Petyr held up a bottle of water.

“Cold will not work,” I waved him off. “I need hot tea. Possibly with brandy. Heavy on the brandy.”

Before Petyr could answer, a car pulled into the lot behind me.

My familiar’s little horned head tilted toward the sound, and he muttered, “He is here.”

Of course he was.

I closed my eyes, willing the intruder away. No such luck.

Six and a half feet of gorgeous, trouble-making man unfolded from the patrol car, all lazy grace, and broad shoulders.

Conrad moved like steam—rising, curling, filling the space between us without touching me.

One second, he was across the parking lot and the next, poof, right in front of me.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and his voice wrapped around me like warm honey with a bite of heat at the end.

Petyr squinted up at him, snarling before glancing back at me.

“Want me to get rid?”

I shook my head slightly at his offer.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for coming,” I said, already regretting it.

The last time I’d seen Conrad, we’d both been coming.

Hard.

Simultaneously.

And ever since, I’d been steering clear like a Witch who knows better than to look into a cursed mirror—nothing good ever comes out of it.

I turned around, ready to dismiss him, but of course, the Shifter was having none of that.

“It’s time we talk, Maribella,” he said, using that full-name tone that made my spine tingle.

I crossed my arms, desperate for armor.

“Look, Conrad, I’m sorry you caught feelings. I told you then—it was just one night. You’re a big boy. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”

A slow grin curved his mouth, and his cheeks darkened with what might have been embarrassment—if I believed for a second that Conrad was capable of being embarrassed.

Hint: He wasn’t.

“I meant about the fire, Sugar. But if there’s something else on your mind, I’m all ears.”

And there it was.

The sexy eyebrow raise.

The slow once-over that lingered on my soot-smeared apron and hair.

Well, crap. I walked right into that one.

“I’ll call Jaxson later with my statement. Goodbye, deputy,” I muttered, pushing past him before I could dig myself deeper.

Behind me, Petyr let out a low snort.

“You like him.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“Petyr, I swear on the Goddess’s cupcake stand, I will turn you into a fuzzy throw pillow.”

Worst. Day. Ever. And it was only just starting.