Page 79 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Heat crawls up my neck. "Thanks for letting me borrow them. I didn't exactly pack a extensive wardrobe."
“Trust me, if the others saw, I'd have had to fight them for the privilege.” He laughs nervously. “Are you hungry? Rowan went out for food, but he should be back soon.”
My stomach rumbles loudly, answering for me. Micah grins. "Guess so."
"Can I get you anything while we wait?" he asks, hovering nearby like he's afraid I might shatter if he moves too quickly.
It occurs to me with a cold clench of my chest that he hasn't said anything about the fact that my glamour isn't on. He didn't flinch when he looked at me, or even look away like most people do. If I didn't know better, I'd think he really didn't give a shit.
Everyone does, though.
He’s just…verygood at hiding it.
"I'm fine, really," I insist, though "fine" is a stretch. I feel weak, my limbs heavy and my head slightly fuzzy. The cramping has dulled to a persistent ache, but I can tell it's just the calm before the storm.
I lower myself back onto the couch, nestling into the ridiculous mountain of blankets. It's absurd how comfortable they've made this space, like they've channeled all their protective instincts into cushion arrangement.
Alpha wolves acting like birds.
Kind of funny, actually.
Micah hovers, clearly unsure whether to join me or maintain a respectful distance. Before he can make up his mind, two sets of heavy footsteps sound from the front hall, and Killian and Sean appear, each carrying more blankets.
Caught wool-handed.
They freeze when they see me awake, then Killian's nostrils flare. His eyes widen in alarm and I turn my head fast, afraid he’s looking at me like that because of my scars.
"I smell blood," he says sharply.
Oh. Guess that wasn’t why.
I groan, burying my face in a pillow. This is truly the pinnacle of mortification. My face burns hot enough to catch fire.
"Are you alright? What happened?" Killian presses, rushing to the makeshift nest and dropping the blankets into it.
I groan, burying my face in a pillow. This is truly the pinnacle of mortification. My face is burning so hot, I’m surprised I don’t fucking spontaneously combust.
That would be too merciful for the universe.
"She has her period," Sean informs him, dropping his own blanket bundle onto the others. "Nowwho's the dumbass?"
"Oh," Killian mutters, cringing. "Sorry."
Micah approaches, studying me with concern. "That explains why you're even more drained. Monthly cycles affect a witch's energy, right?"
I want to deny it out of principle, but he's right. Menstruation does impact magical reserves, especially for siphons. I've never had a period without the coven's energy to draw from since becoming Bonded. I’m sure that’s at least part of why I’m feeling so depleted.
"You might have a point," I admit grudgingly.
"Want a massage?" Sean offers. "I've got magic fingers." He waggles said fingers demonstratively.
I snort. “It’s okay. I’ll take your word for it.”
"Do you still want us to leave you alone?" Killian asks, still looking slightly embarrassed. "We can give you more space."
The question catches me off guard. Do I want them to leave? The version of myself I was a few days ago would say yes. I would want solitude, peace, and distance from these overwhelming wolves.
But that's not what I want at all right now.
