Chapter Six
667 Words
The dining table was too damn big.
Kai sat at the head, picking at his roast chicken, the silence between them thick enough to choke on. Nia hadn’t even glanced at him when she’d walked in—just slid into her seat like a ghost, all soft cotton and quiet defiance.
He watched her.
She’d changed into another loose T-shirt, but the pants—those clung to her hips, to the curve of her thighs, and hell, he hated that he noticed. Hated that his wolf perked up, nostrils flaring at the scent of her—honey and storm magic, sharpened by irritation.
Then she started plucking cherry tomatoes from her salad, setting them aside with delicate precision.
Kai’s brow furrowed. "You allergic or just picky?"
Nia didn’t look up. "Allergic."
Of course she was. Even her allergies were high-maintenance. Who the hell was allergic to tomatoes?
He stabbed a piece of chicken harder than necessary.
The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring, until Nia finally broke it.
"Can I borrow your car?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Or a truck. I need to get some things from my place."
Kai’s fork stilled. "What things?"
"Just creature comforts." She shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. "To make this feel more like a home."
Home.
The word lodged in his chest like a thorn. This wasn’t a home. It was a bargain. A cage for both of them.
But she wasn’t wrong—if she was stuck here, she’d want her own things.
"It can be arranged," he said gruffly.
Nia nodded once, then went back to her food, the conversation clearly over.
Kai exhaled through his nose.
This was going to be a long damn night.
Nia’s house smelled like a damn apothecary exploded inside it.
Kai stood in the foyer, his nose twitching against the assault of herbs, incense, and something deeper—magic, thick and layered, clinging to every surface. It prickled against his skin, setting his wolf on edge.
Witch’s den.
Nia breezed past him, already halfway up the stairs. “I’ll be back,” she tossed over her shoulder, leaving him stranded in her living room like an unwelcome guest.
Not that he cared.
He scanned the space instead.
The walls were covered in photos—Nia as a gap-toothed kid, Nia in a cap and gown, Nia sandwiched between two older women who shared her sharp cheekbones and proud stance. A grandmother, maybe. A mother.
Family.
His chest tightened. He looked away.
His gaze landed on her office instead, the door half-open. Curiosity got the better of him.
Inside, it looked like something out of a crime show—three monitors, a sleek laptop, notebooks filled with scribbled spells and what looked like stock market charts. A witch who moonlighted as a finance guru. Of course.
A creak on the stairs snapped his attention back.
Nia descended, dragging two massive suitcases behind her. They thumped against each step, and Kai moved before he could think, crossing the room in two strides.
“I got it,” he grunted, hefting them with ease.
She blinked, then let go. “Thanks.”
No snark. No argument. Just... gratitude?
Huh.
She disappeared upstairs again, returning with arms full of plants (because of course she had plants), a velvet box that hummed with magic, and a rolled-up tapestry that smelled like sage and storm winds.
By the time they loaded the last of it into his truck, the bed was full, and Nia stood beside it, hands on her hips, surveying the haul.
And then—
A flicker of satisfaction, warm and quiet, brushing against his senses through the bond.
Kai stiffened.
He hadn’t realized he could feel her like that.
Nia must’ve noticed too, because her eyes snapped to his, wary.
A beat of silence.
Then she turned and climbed into the truck without a word.
Kai exhaled.
This bond was going to be a problem.
- Writer
