Page 53 of Witch Unexpected
“Almost there,” Pen said with a grin. “It’ll be worth it, trust me. Breakfast at Grimswood is legendary.”
The smell intensified as we hit the hardwood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Welcome to the south wing,” Pen said. “This is where the rest of us regular witches hang out.”
There was a twinkle in her eye as she led me through an arch and into a wide corridor with floor to ceiling windows. A set of partially open doors sat at the other end, and the sound of laughter and clink of cutlery drifted out from within.
“They’re looking forward to meeting you, and they’ll probably have a ton of questions, but don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“No need,” Bramble said from beside me.
I jumped in surprise. Where the fuck had she come from?
She flashed me a grin. “I got you, boo.” She slung an arm over my shoulders.
Pen sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know the protocol, Bramble. You’re more than welcome to join us for breakfast, but orientation is my thing.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to rain on your parade.”
Bramble dropped me a wink and pushed open the doors all the way. “Welcome to sunny side up heaven.”
All the aromas hit me in one go, and my stomach did a desperate lurch followed by a happy dance.
The room was huge, filled with round tables, many of which were occupied by women ranging from teenage to middle-aged. Several pairs of eyes trained on me as Pen led me into the room at a brisk clip, a smile plastered on her face.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was tense.
The general conversation dropped to a low buzz of whispers as we made our way through the dining room. I scanned the room looking for Wren and caught the eye of a redhead with a pout to die for. She raised a hand and gave me a finger wave. The woman next to her elbowed her in the ribs but then smiled at me when she caught me watching her.
They had to be around the same age as me, but we weren’t headed to that table. No, Pen made a beeline for the long table at the top of the room where four women watched us approach with guarded expressions.
“Sloane, hi,” Pen said. “I thought you might want to meet our new anchor.”
The woman had cropped silver hair and eyes so blue they made my heart ache. Her face was angular and chiseled, with high cheekbones. She fixed her attention on me and sat back in her seat.
“They say you survived the slau.” Her voice was husky and low. “That true?”
“If you mean managed not to die until help arrived, then yeah, I survived it.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Yeah. Elijah got to you, right?”
“And Bramble kicked ass.”
Sloane’s gaze flicked to Bramble. “You did, huh?”
I glanced at Bramble to find her staring at Sloane with a starstruck look on her face.
Sloane ducked her head and chuckled softly. “Damn, you really are a sweetheart.”
Bramble cleared her throat. “Who you calling a sweetheart, eh? I ain’t no fluffy thing.”
Sloane’s brows shot up. “Really?”
Bramble raised her chin. “So, you gonna make room for us at the big girls’ table or not?”
Sloane locked gazes with me for a long beat, then jerked her chin at the woman sitting next to her. Chairs were pulled out, and Pen ushered me into a seat opposite Sloane.
An empty plate appeared in front of me, set there by spectral hands.
