“I know who you are,” she said coolly, walking around to the desk.
Her fingers moved over the keyboard with an eerie quiet.No smile.No small talk.Just a side-eye that could freeze boiling water.
“So, uh,” I said, shifting my weight, “still working the front desk, I see.”
She didn’t respond.
“Nice… chanting.Was that a check-in spell or…?”
“I was asking the goddess for patience,” she said flatly.“Apparently, she’s in a meeting.”
I swallowed a laugh and took the keycard when she handed it over.
“Room five,” she said, her tone crisp.“End of the hall.Avoid the west stairs—they creak when Mercury’s in retrograde.”
I turned to go.
“If you hurt him,” she said suddenly, voice sharp as a flint blade, “you’ll have to answer to me.”
I stopped mid-step.
Slowly turned around.
Her gaze was steady.Harder than I expected from someone who smelled like patchouli and oat milk.
I crossed my arms over my chest, ready to say something cutting—something that would leave her gasping for sage.But the words caught in my throat.
Because she meant it.
And pissing her off might get back to Jude.
So instead, I forced a smile.“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
The lie tasted bitter.
I stalked out before she could say anything else, walked straight back to the car, popped the trunk, and yanked my suitcase out.It wobbled on one wheel, catching on the gravel, and I muttered curses under my breath as I dragged it toward the porch.
What the hell am I doing?I thought again.
Jude was just a guy.A guy who played at healing people with pretty words and moon water.A guy who probably believed his own hype.A guy who kissed me like he meant it, then humiliated me by turning me down.
I shouldn’t want him.
I shouldn’t.
But fuck.I did.
I climbed the stairs and made my way down the hall, the keycard damp in my sweaty hand.The wood floors creaked beneath my feet, each groan of the house like a whispered warning.
When I reached the door, I paused.
Room five.
I slid the keycard, waited for the telltale beep and click, then pushed open the door.
The room was… surprisingly nice.Not luxurious, but well cared for.Clean white sheets, floral curtains, a vintage dresser with mismatched drawer knobs, and a tiny kitchenette in the corner that had probably witnessed several failed attempts at oat milk lattes.Everything smelled faintly of lavender and lemon—comforting, with just a hint of spiritual superiority.
I stepped inside and let the door fall shut behind me.
