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It took all of Tallak’s battered control to disentangle himself from the witch in his arms once she’d fallen asleep. His witch.
She just didn’t know it yet.
Already regarding her as his, even though he hadn’t yet mated with her, was the only way he’d been able to soothe the vicious mating urge inside him down to a manageable level. If left unchecked, that urge would have pushed him to do something unimaginably moronic, like ask her right then and there with barely leashed ferocity if she’d mate with him.
And apart from Hazel’s general reluctance to binding herself to a male again, and her very likely high resistance to binding herself to Tallak in particular, snarling at a female with your teeth bared and your demonic nature on full display might not be the most enticing mating proposal.
So he’d tricked his mating urge into a somewhat safer state, where he was able to touch her, pleasure her, and even take her, with his instinct to draw blood precariously bound only by his deep conviction that she was already his and would soon agree to the bond.
Leaving her so soft, warm, and sated in her bed, all alone, without him there to watch over her still grated on him. Twice he turned on his heel and stalked back to the bed, only to force himself away again. His protective instinct was already in overdrive, and he’d have to be careful around her. If there was even the hint of another male challenging his claim or threatening her in any way, he’d go ballistic.
Well, at least his scent clung to her. For now. It would fade with her next shower, of course, since they weren’t mated yet. Which only meant that the next time he saw her, he’d have to rub himself all over her again to renew his scent claim.
Grumbling under his breath, he finally snuck out of her room, taking care to make sure the path was clear and he wouldn’t run into anyone. That primitive urge inside him grumbled at that, too, wanting nothing more than for everyone to see he was the one to come out of Hazel’s bedroom, smelling like sex. But he knew she wouldn’t want that. Not yet.
So in the interest of courting her, he stuck to their agreement, even if it went against every instinct of his…and chafed at a part of him he’d almost forgotten, a part that surprisingly hurt.
CHAPTER 20
“Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom.”
Hazel twisted in her seat at the breakfast table to catch a glimpse of Basil whooshing into the kitchen, snatching a croissant from the basket on the island—her cheeks heated thinking of what had happened on said island just the night before—and then whooshing out again.
“Hey,” she called. “Are you leaving already?”
Basil poked his head back into the kitchen, chewing the croissant. “Yeah, sorry. Isa’s tracking a hirudo, and I’m helping her. We’re trying to find its lair today.” He paused and sniffed the air. “Did Dad come back here last night?”
Dear gods, please don’t let my face be as red as it feels. He did come here last night, all right. With her, right on that island. Darn it, that demon really had ruined the kitchen for her.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him. Maybe he forgot something?”
She’d aired out the kitchen for an hour, same as her bedroom, she’d washed the sheets, and a long, thorough shower had hopefully taken care of whatever scent traces of Tallak had lingered on her body. Though with that extremely sharp demon nose of his, Basil might still pick up something here and there. The only saving grace here was that Tallak already spent quite a bit of time in the house anyway, so his scent hanging in the air wouldn’t be too suspicious.
Shrugging, Basil darted into the kitchen again, grabbed another croissant, and then rushed outside with a casual wave.
Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, Hazel turned back to her breakfast. The house lay quiet again. Rose was up in her room—maybe?—and Basil and Isa had just left, so it was only Hazel and a gazillion rooms that collected dust. She tried to focus her thoughts on the day ahead—checking the books in the library again, then some maintenance of the herbs in the greenhouse and garden, brewing a few potions to restock her stash of offensive and healing elixirs and tinctures, getting groceries, reinforcing the wards around the house—but her mind stubbornly returned to the one thing she didn’t want to dwell on…the keen feeling of disappointment when she’d woken alone.
Disappointment.
Like she’d wanted him to be there, lying next to her, his big body wrapped around her like a hot, seductive Tallak blanket. She narrowed her eyes as she sipped her coffee. It was fine that he’d left. That was just the way she preferred it. No strings, no attachment, no complications.
Yep, that was exactly how she liked it.
And she would ignore the soft, warm feeling that had snuck onto her as she’d stepped out of the shower and noticed the hidden message written on her bathroom mirror, revealed by the steam of the hot water.
Good morning, gorgeous.
Something curled in her belly, a wicked, thrilling sensation that made her heart race just a bit. Taking a deep breath, she wrestled that feeling into submission. It should take more to rattle her than a handwritten note on her mirror after a night of great sex. It wasn’t a big deal.
And yet she hadn’t brought herself to wipe it off.
It was still there, invisible again until humidity would bring it forth once more, a hidden message for a hidden part of her, that hungry corner of her soul that she would not allow to ruin her life again.
The doorbell rang. Startled out of her thoughts, Hazel rose and padded to the front door, opening it to let in Merle.
“Hey,” the other witch said with a smile and waddled inside. “I was running some errands and thought I’d drop by for a coffee.” With a sigh, she added, “Decaf, of course.”
“Sure, come on in.” Hazel closed the door, a bit nonplussed, and followed Merle into the kitchen.
