Page 29 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Joey leans forward, concern wrinkling his forehead. “Is he your mate?”

“He says he might be. My doe thinks he could be. But she… she’s skittish.”

I know what that’s like. The first time I caught Max’s scent, I couldn’t believe he could be my mate. Then I realized he was a predator, and I didn’t think he could be. Now… I don’t know what he is, but I can’t let anyone hurt him.

Same with Abigail. I just met her, but she seems sweet. “Hey. If he ever scares you, I bake a mean Leave Me Alone Muffin. Anyone who eats it gets explosive diarrhea, giving you time to get away while laughing at the predator terrorizing you.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the circle, lightening the mood. Even Joey grins.

“Honey is our new town baker.” Betsy gestures at me. “Go on. Introduce yourself to the rest of us, sweetie.”

Oh. Right.

“So, uh, I’m Honey Morgan. I bake.”

And the only thing that’s on my mind is that murder that none of the prey shifters in this room have mentioned once…

Caroline’s lips part. “I heard of you. Dough You Believe in Magic, right? You’re the reason Frannie has to wear a wig until her fur grows back.”

I wince. “Well, actually, that was the witches fault⁠—”

Caroline snickers. “Frannie deserved it. Charging a hundred dollars for a haircut while using box dye on her tail. I’m glad it came out.” She pauses. “But if you ever use one of your charmed cupcakes on me like that, I’ll spray you so hard, it’ll never come out.”

See? That right there is why not all prey shifters are defenseless. Roxy sure as hell isn’t, and I wonder if she knows Caroline. Something tells me they would be great friends if they haven’t already met.

Great friends, or the worst of enemies.

Once I assure them that was an accident, and that I’ve put a hold on charmed cupcakes unless they’ve been specifically requested, the mood shifts.

The conversation drifts to harmless topics. Zoning permits, taxes, which grocery stores are the friendliest to all supes. I join in half-heartedly, the image of Abigail’s nervous smile lingering in my mind as the meeting ends.

CHAPTER 9

KILLER

About time.

— gus

Even if I wanted to take a few minutes to talk to Joey, that’s impossible. The moment Betsy announces that the meeting is over, he hightails it out the door, leaving the rest of us to fold the chairs and stack them against the wall.

That seems to be a common enough occurrence that not even Carolina complains about it. She just folds up Joey’s chair and carries it over with hers. Betsy tells us all to take the leftover snacks home, then reminds the prey circle that the next meeting is in two weeks.

I… might come back. Who knows? I have Gus and I have Roxy, but maybe it won’t be such a bad idea to make a few friends in Moonburrow. I think of Abigail again. She seems nice, and she might need a friend, too, in case her predator mate becomes a problem.

She hangs back for a few minutes, but when everyone’s packing up, saying goodbye and heading out the door, she walks over to me. This smile is a shy one, and she’s digging into her oversized tote as she approaches.

She pulls out a small pink mesh sachet with something in it. The scent-dampener charm in the room makes it hard for me to tell what it is, but she seems proud of it.

“For you,” she says. “Comfort tea with chamomile. I make the blend myself. It helps with the nerves. I give some to everyone who comes to the prey circle meetings.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet⁠—”

She touches my arm, a fleeting brushing of her fingers against my sleeve. “It works best at night. A little hot water, some milk if you like. It’s good for you.”

I nod, promising I’ll try, even though I know I probably won’t. I’m not really a chamomile tea person. Still, if she’s being friendly enough to offer me some of her special brew, I’ll take it with me.

“It was nice to meet you, Honey.”