Page 200 of Bespelled

“What are you doing trying to knock down my door like you’re the Big Bad Wolf?” I say.

He gives me a look. “That’s not funny.”

It’s alittlefunny, but I keep that to myself. Last night obviously made everybody lose their sense of humor.

Despite the chill in the air, Kane wears only a tank top, jogging shorts, and tennis shoes. His sandy blond hair looks windblown.

“Did yourunhere?” I ask, holding the door open for him to come in.

The lycanthrope steps inside, his body rolling like a wolf on the prowl.

“Did you know?” he demands.

My heart beats loudly. There are a number of sensitive topics I know about that I likely shouldn’t.

“Know what?” I say innocently enough. A moment later, I hold up a hand. “Wait. I’m not ready to have this conversation until I get some breakfast in me.” Namely coffee.

“Selene,” Kane protests, an impatient growl rumbling in his throat.

I give him an amused look. “That growl might’ve worked on me before I met a demon.” I grab his hand. “Come on.”

I feel his surprise at the touch, then his own grip tightens on mine. I can’t see his face, but the alpha who bristles under others’ orders now lets me lead him into my house’s dining hall.

“You met a demon?” Kane echoes.

“Just for a little bit,” I say evasively. That’s an entire separate conversation, one that will likely ruin my appetite.

In my house’s dining hall, fresh fruit sits out next to a tray of glistening cinnamon rolls, the frosting still dripping down them.

I release the shifter’s hand to grab two plates. Ignoring the fruit altogether, I dish out a cinnamon roll for each of us, then hand Kane the plates.

“Go sit down,” I say, nodding to one of the tables in the empty room behind us. “Also, do you like coffee or tea?”

“Christ, Selene, I just want to talk.”

My sternum throbs, constricting a little tighter. The unbreakable oath I made to Memnon is starting to become uncomfortable.

“Listen, Kane, last night was rough, and I need some semblance of normal at the moment, so please go sit the fuck down while I brew you something.”

He growls at the order.

“Go.” I give him a push.

He growls again but reluctantly heads to one of the wooden tables.

I grab two colorful mugs stacked next to a coffee maker and fill each of them up with steaming coffee. On a whim, I add cream to both. No clue if Kane even likes coffee or cream, but I’m beyond caring.

Coffees in hand, I head over to the table where Kane waits, looking very much like a caged wolf. His leg bounces impatiently.

“Goddess, you are soloudwith your emotions,” I say. I hand him a mug and settle myself down. “Now, what was so important that you had to meet me in person to tell me?”

Kane stares at me for a long time as though he’s sizing me up.

“What?” I say, shifting in my seat a little.

“Did you know?” he says again.

“Knowwhat?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee.

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