Page 69 of Son of a Witch

I kicked his leg under the table, and the bastard didn’t even flinch. My glaze flittered between Tor and the list I uncurled in my palm.

Pascal frowned as he usually did, slower to catch onto what was going on.

“Yeah, Supergal.” Tor’s eyebrow hiked halfway up his forehead. “I know that look. You’re up to something.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Guilty as charged.My fault for pulling out my note in the cafeteria.

Game face on. “Just some questions for Loco.”

One of Tor’s eyebrows slammed down, while the other climbed higher. “Bitch, please. Spill it.”

Knoxe’s hand came to the flesh above my knee and pinched in warning. Meaning: shut up and don’t get Tor’s hopes up about a cure.

Compiling a list of ingredients for a serum to heal Tor was high on the old to-do list. First, I needed serious research time in the library. Time that didn’t exist when every spare moment was dedicated to assisting the Guild of Sorcerers with repairs or cleaning out rubble. Or tracking down missing prisoners and vampires, training, or assisting Tor. Even if I got library time, I wasn’t even sure they had the medical texts I required when they leaned toward the magical and mythology.

“They’re questions for Loco,” I repeated, and not very convincingly. “Why didn’t he write or call? Did he have those privileges stripped? It’s been on my mind.”

Ugh. I failed to shrug off the disbelieving look in Tor’s eyes and not give a thing away.

My beautiful, sweet Pascal forked more of his scrambled eggs into his mouth, and I loved him for taking my word for it and not questioning me.

Tor stabbed a slice of steak on his plate and waved it around. “Who’s on your hit list? Is it a list of names like in Green Reckoner, where he kills off a list of enemies who framed his dad for murder and got thrown in the slammer?” He shoved his fork into his mouth and grinned as he chewed.

Fuck. A story that hit too close to home after Loco’s confession.

On the positive side—because, fuck, I needed one—Tor poured through the special edition comics I gifted him.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t compile those kinds of lists.”

Liar. Three people topped my list. Devon, Edwardo, and Theresa Sanchez. Raze did a number on Slash so I left him off it. Guy wouldn’t be talking again with a broken voice box and Adam’s apple after he sanctioned the hit on us, and my life was threatened.

Tor smiled in that mischievous way I loved. A way that gave me hope that my Superguy wasn’t lost. “Keep your secrets, Supergal. Meanwhile, P-Man and I are gonna play some table tennis. I’m just the right height for a ball to the forehead.”

I winced at his poor attempt at humor.

He shoveled the rest of his breakfast down, loaded his plate, bamboo cutlery and mug onto his tray, and nestled it over his armrests. With a wink, he rolled away with Pascal trailing behind.

“See you,” I called out, marveling at the strength of his physiotherapy exercises rebuilding in his arms, the way his muscles flexed.

Knoxe lifted his coffee to his mouth and asked, “What are you really up to, Sunset?”

Sunset.The nickname he used on me when we first met. Warmth trickled down my spine at the affectionate, growly way he said it.

I kicked him again. “Do you mind not calling me out in front of the table?”

He chuckled, swallowed his coffee, and set it down. The man knew how to move as he took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Not sorry, Sunset.”

I melted into his delicious growl. “That name gets me every time.”

Oops. Classic Astra honesty.

“That’s why I use it.” He smiled and kissed the side of my hand then my wrist. “Now.” He rubbed my hand with both of his. Not fair. That move weakened me. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

I tried to jerk away. He wouldn’t approve. Would tell me not to get Tor’s hopes up.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

The damn bastard leaned in to kiss me, distracting me enough to slide his hand into my pocket, steal my list and pull away to read it.

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