Page 98 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bastion!” I yelp. “Why the fuck are you in my house?!”

He examines his well-manicured nails, bored. “Did you forget I have access through the wards?”

“No, asshole, I didn’t,” I gripe. “And I have the go-ahead with your wards, too. Yet you don’t see me just waltzing into your home like I own the place with no warning.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. We’ve known each other since we were children. We’ve seen each other naked, had sex… Why do I need to give you warning? It’s not as if I’ll walk in on you in a compromising position or some measure of indecency.”

“Bastion, I have a boyfriend now,” I tell him.

“Who I knew wasn’t here—so I knew you wouldn’t be fucking him. Lillith, what is the problem?”

I groan and pull my duvet over my head. “Bastion. Go. Away.”

“Now that’s just a silly request,” he says. “You’re meant to come see me this afternoon anyway.”

“This. AFTERNOON.”

“Yes, I’m going to walk you to The Buried City—I’m being a gentleman.”

“Why bother? You’ve never made a fuss over it before.”

“You weren’t bereft of the Nightingale Pearl before,” he says, his tone honing to a sharpened edge. “We weren’t down one generational witch with a penchant for protections before. You weren’t distracted by puppy love before, Lillith.”

I take a long moment to sigh and finally pull the duvet down just enough that my eyes can meet his. His shapely brows carve a frustrated line over his eyes, but there’s an earnest glint in his eyes—in the set of his lips. I’m reminded again that, while he can be quite selfish and inconsiderate at times, and rude and callous, he does have a good heart buried in there... somewhere.

He steps further into my room and sits a polite distance away on the edge of my bed. It’s benign—completely devoid of the intimacy between us the time he tied me up and took my virginity—stripped of any reverence or worship he held during Beltane last year.

Bastion meets my eyes for a long time before he folds his hands in his lap and crosses his legs at the ankle. “Lillith, what exactly is this strain between us?” he asks. “I know I’m wont to prioritize myself, and that I can be direct—”

“Dickish,” I correct.

He rolls his eyes and continues. “But I thought you knew that I care about you. That you’re a dear friend to me, and that your happiness and safety are things that matter to me. But you’ve been acting surprised when I make moves to assist you with important matters. You gave me a false name for Damien because you thought I would hex him. And now you’re acting like I’m some peeping tom.”

“Bastion, I’m not even fully dressed,” I groan. “You basically are a peeping tom.”

“I’m not here to ogle you,” he says.

“Yes, we’re all very aware of just how much you do not need me in your life,” I say through a long-suffering sigh.

His brow furrows. “What in the four corners are you talking about?” he says. “Of course I need you in my life. Why do you think I go so far out of my way to help you?”

“Bastion...” I sigh. “I don’t want to have this talk.”

“What talk? What is there to talk about?”

“You say I’m not disposable, but nothing about us has ever been permanent, Bash. Not ever,” I say. “You are kind and sweet and affectionate when it suits you. And as soon as you’re finished with that, you cast me aside.”

“I have never cast you aside,” he says.

“Then what would you call the aftermath of Beltane?” I ask, finally sitting up and glaring at him.

He looks genuinely perplexed by this line of discussion. His words come out slow, hesitant, as if he’s concerned that I might be delusional. Or disconnected from reality. “I invited you to act as my maiden. We performed a symbolic ritual. The ritual concluded, and we continued being friends?”

“You hurt me, Bastion,” I tell him. “To feel so close, to feel so treasured by you during those few hours, just to have you practically forget me as soon as the ceremony was over. It fucking sucked. I know I shouldn’t be surprised; you did the same shit after you took my virginity, but...”

“Lillith—I want to be very clear that I admire and respect you very much,” he says. “You’re a beautiful witch. You’re talented and capable. You’re a treasured connection in my web.”

“But?” I prompt, bracing for more hurt.