Page 25 of Wedding the Werepanther

“How does she do that?” I squint through the candelabra. “You said no other fae walk the shadow roads. Is she teleporting?” Which doesn’t make sense, because Shadow went to town to bring her here. Victoria demanded we have the finest chef in Ferndale Falls cook dinner, and there’s no one better than a brownie baker, so he made it happen.

“No.” The clink of metal on porcelain. “Brownie hearth magic allows them to move unseen around any house they serve in. It’s protective magic, so they can hide if needed.”

I butter a roll, then moan as the first yeasty bite melts on my tongue. How can bread be this tasty and light? The salad’s good too, the dressing citrusy and bright, with caramelized walnuts adding a sweet crunch.

When the brownie returns, she whisks away my plate and replaces it with one topped with a steak and a baked potato dripping with sour cream, the flecks of fresh chives offering bright pops of green.

The meat is rich and salty and perfect, and I hum with pleasure.

“That good, huh?” Shadow teases.

“Yeah, it’s that good.” Even though I can’t see him clearly, I can imagine the smirk he must wear, but I refuse to be embarrassed. Food like this deserves happy noises.

“I hope you’re paying Pepperpot well,” I say. Victoria certainly doesn’t have a budget, so Shadow agreed to foot the bill for dinner.

“Of course I am,” he says, and I believe it after seeing his stash of Faerie gold. His silverware clinks. “In fact, I propose a toast. To Pepperpot.”

“To Pepperpot.” I lift my glass, right as a door bangs upstairs.

Writing appears on the parchment attached to the wall.“I’mthe one you should be thanking.”

“And to Victoria, for designing this evening,” Shadow says, and I echo him, taking a sip of the full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon.

With conversation stilted by the candles in the way, I eat quickly instead of lingering. Shadow must match my pace, because it’s not long before Pepperpot appears to take our plates and let us know dessert will be ready in five minutes.

“Let’s use that time to make a little rearrangement.” Shadow stands and comes around the table, carrying his wine glass. He sits in the chair to my left with a satisfied grin.

A door slams upstairs, and I jolt and look over at the parchment.“That’s not how I planned it.”

“You’ve done a lovely job,” Shadow lies. Or maybe he’s not lying. He sure doesn’t look as miserable as I feel as a rub at the spot where the girdle digs into my side. But men’s clothing is always so much kinder to their bodies.

“This way Kayla and I can see each other and even touch. It’s much more romantic.” He picks up my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles, setting my heart racing as my entire body lights up. His eyes glitter with amusement. “Isn’t that right, my wife?”

“Yeah,” I choke out. “Sure.”

A pop of magic saves me from completely embarrassing myself, as Pepperpot appears and disappears, leaving behind two pieces of chocolate torte.

“Ohhh.” My eyes latch onto the treat, one of my absolute favorites. The first bite coats my tongue in chocolaty goodness, and my eyes roll so far back in my head I can’t see anything. Before I realize it, most of my dessert is gone, and I lift the last forkful to my mouth and slide the thick chocolate slowly over my tongue, savoring it.

Shadow’s hand grips my arm, warm and firm and making me tingle. He leans forward, his eyes latched onto my mouth as he holds up his fork, covered with his last bite of torte. “Make that sound again.”

“What sound?”

He teases the tines against my lips, smearing them with chocolate, and my tongue sneaks out to lick it away.

His green eyes go black as the pupils shoot wide, and a low growl vibrates from him. “Goddess, Kayla. What you do to me.”

My heart races, a tingle of excitement moving through me. But when I squirm under his heated gaze, the girdle digs into my stomach, making me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I rub at itthrough the thin material of the satin dress, but that only makes the spot hurt worse.

“I can’t wait to win you, my witchy beauty.”

Winme? Is that all I am to him, some kind ofprize?

“Yeah, no.” I shove to my feet, which reduces the pinch of the Girdle of Doom a little bit but makes me totter on the Heels from Hell, stilettos with heels so narrow I keep expecting them to poke holes in the hardwood floor.

Shadow leaps to his feet, as graceful as ever. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“This—” I wave a hand toward the fancy dinner setup, then pluck at the fabric over my artificially narrowed waist. “This isn’t me.”