Page 25 of Hellish Witch

“I’m going to ignore that because your pretty kitty stole your coffee,” he drawled.

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought my headache would take me, but closed the distance to my old home. The enormous front door was a solid ebony, polished to a gleaming shine and nestled within the rich redwood logs making up the rest of the expanded cabin. It was easily big enough for someone winged and twice my height to walk through without brushing the sides.

I eyed Killian’s muscular frame. Given who Rex’s enforcer generals were, the door choice made sense.

I could probably roll through it, limbs akimbo.

I’d never thought so much about a door.

I may or may not have been stalling.

The thought of confessing my dangerous secret to anyone, let alone our new queen, had a nervous laugh bubbling up. I clamped down hard as the first unhinged peal burst free.

Zoella was a glowing goddess of nature magic and, courtesy of her hellhound familiar, pretty lilac hell-fire too.

I was tainted. Broken.

I swallowed down another crazed giggle, all too aware of the weight of a certain enforcer’s attention on my back.

“Do you need me to knock for you, Princess? Maybe carry you inside?” he purred beside me.

His taunting gave me the push I needed to rap my knuckles against the wood, shooting him a quick scowl that was met by a wicked grin.

A banging sounded within the house, and then the door was thrown open.

A stunning witch with pale-purple hair and matching eyes beamed at me. She threw her arms around my neck in an exuberance I was grudgingly getting used to.

“Eve!” She squeezed me tight, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Since moving to Hell last month, Zoella had been getting stronger with all the training she’d been doing with her mate.

I loved having her around. Not only was she hilarious and sweet, and badass enough to keep my brother in line, but she was magekind. One of the few connections I had to that half of my heritage, since I’d never even met my father. He’d abandoned my mother before I was born.

Zoella and I had started our own grimoire, recording spells and rituals to perform together. She’d been teaching me basic witch magic, like glamouring my appearance and casting truth spells. Things that didn’t rely on my healing affinity.

My eyes welled as a flood of emotions hit me all at once.

I blinked furiously, hugging her right back. If anyone was going to understand what I was going through, it was her. Even though a part of me was filled with shame for bringing even more danger to her door.

She’d almost died for me once already.

I was putting her at risk, just being around her now. That hungry darkness slithered just beneath the surface. Watching. Waiting.

I pulled back, swallowing thickly. “Hey, Queenie.”

Her eyes narrowed, telling me she didn’t miss the extra sad sparkle in mine, but she let it slide. For now.

“Don’t start. Your brother is insisting on calling me ‘Your Highness’ ever since I asked the demon in charge of the orchards not to bother with titles.” She waved a hand, and I knew I could count on her to lighten the mood. “Now let’s head inside before your winged stalker bores a hole through the back of your head.”

She gave an exaggerated wave to said stalker, and I suppressed a sigh at the knowledge that he was still lurking behind me.

Did he think I’d trip over the doorframe and bash my skull in?

The incubus really had no faith in me.

And after what I’d done to him last night and again this morning, who could blame him? He’d probably followed me here to make sure I didn’t assault any unsuspecting citizens.

Zoella lifted her hand, faking a static crackle and speaking into the jumper sleeve at her wrist. “The package has been delivered. I repeat, the package has been delivered. Over.”

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