Page 24 of Wedding the Werepanther

“See that you do, so you can educate me on what works with human witches.”

“Got your eye on one already, have you?” I lean forward. “Who? You can tell me.”

“As you say, it’s early days. I need to assess the situation more fully.”

Before I can needle him for more information, Jace leaps into the air in a pulse of magic. His dark-blue wings snap wide, and in only a couple of beats, he clears the trees, headed back toward town.

Kayla’s raised voice pulls me back inside and down the hall to the kitchen. “Oh, come on. You’re a house! How can you know more about dating than me?”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Allowing Victoria to talk more easily comes with a downside.” Kayla jabs a finger toward the parchment hanging onthe wall beside the refrigerator. “She’s demanding to create all of our dates and weddings without giving us any say on what we do or wear or flippinganything.”

“I’m the romance expert around here,”Victoria writes.

“Youwerethe expert,” Kayla says. “A lot’s changed in the last two decades.”

Doors slam throughout the house, and Victoria replies,“Tell me, oh expert. When was the last time you went on a date?”

A hurt look crosses Kayla’s face. Then she glances at me, notices I’ve seen it, and turns bright red.

“That was mean, Victoria.” I make my tone carefully neutral to keep from escalating matters. The house might be sentient and intelligent, but it seems to have the emotional maturity of a kit, which makes sense, because she’s only been able to communicate for a handful of days. “Apologize to Kayla.”

The words form slowly, but they do form.“I’m sorry.”

Kayla gives a jerky nod.

“I think it’s time for a compromise.” I lean a hip against the kitchen island and consider how my pack would handle a situation like this. Panthers are headstrong creatures, so clashes are inevitable. It’s how you solve them that’s important. “We’ve got three dates and three weddings. Here’s what I propose. Each of us decides what we’ll do for one date and one wedding. That way everyone gets at least one date and wedding they’ll enjoy.”

“That’s…” Kayla’s expression clears. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Okay,”Victoria writes.“But only if I get to go first.”

Kayla nods, and I say, “All right, it’s a deal.”

“We’ll start on Wednesday.”A feeling of excitement fills the air as the cupboards open and close in soft applause.“I’m going to give you the best dateever.”

CHAPTER TEN

Kayla

What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is the worst dateever.

I crane my neck and squint around the candelabra, trying to see Shadow at the far end of the formal dining table. The movement makes the girdle dig into my side. Victoria made me wear a blue satin dress that belonged to my grandmother, the outfit far fancier than anything in my closet, so fancy it requires “foundational undergarments.” Hell, I didn’t even know what foundational undergarments were besides Spanx, let alone wear any before now. The Girdle of Doom is the flipping worst. If I named something this in a game, it would give the wearer an increased constitution during battles and maybe a spell to help smite enemies. Here in the real world, the Girdle of Doom’s only functions seem to be bruising my ribs and squishing my tummy until it feels like I can barely breathe.

When I complained, Victoria reminded me that this washerdate, and I had to do what she wanted. Then she turned off the hot water until I agreed.

So here I am, trussed up in a torture device designed by an evil mastermind. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.

Shadow, on the other hand, looks damned fine in a charcoal-gray suit paired with a silver tie that perfectly matches the tips of his ombré hair.

If I could see him, that is. I lean in the other direction, hoping there’s a clearer view of the far end of the table, but no joy.

I huff a soft laugh and shake my head. It’s not as if I haven’t seen alotof Shadow. He spent the last two days working on the door, right outside my office window, shirtless the entire time. And each night, there’s that peek of him naked. I constantly tell myself I won’t look, but I do. Every damned time, I do.

Pepperpot appears beside me, making me jump. About two feet tall, the brownie has light skin offset by dark-brown hair and eyes. The color palette continues to her clothes, made of a patchwork of brown leaves, some in shapes I’ve never seen on Earth.

She carries a platter topped with two plates of mixed-greens salad, a bread basket, and two little crocks of sweet butter. She sets down the food and says, “I’ll be back in ten minutes with your entrees,” before disappearing.