Kitchen Witch Wedding: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (The Coven of Crestmont Book 1) by Jennifer L. Hart

Author:Jennifer L. Hart [Hart, Jennifer L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elements Unleashed
Published: 2024-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

Brittney

“Pets,” Bartleby insisted as he curled up beside me in bed. I stroked his coat, and he leaned in closer, purring contentedly.

“Come on, B.” Veronica coaxed from her perch in the wingback chair by the open window. “It’s not so bad.”

“He ran away.” I sniffled.

“You knew it was a possibility,” she said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think he’d do it!” I closed my eyes. Mistake. My mind supplied the image of him the second before he’d left. Those arresting blue eyes had been full of fear. “He’s afraid of me now. Me! The kitchen witch! My hands glow and I can levitate anything under five pounds. And I run my chair. That’s it. And he’s afraid.”

I wasn’t like Maeve Silver who could enchant people or Sam the healer who could communicate with death. My magic was barely a blip on the radar.

Veronica steepled her bloodred fingernails. “You know men have always feared witches. Our history is long and bloody. There are places in this world. where people are still put to death for even being suspected of being witches to this very day. It’s not about what you can or can’t do, B. It’s about what he can handle.”

She was right. “Don’t talk sense to me now, I’m trying to wallow.”

She nodded. “I’m going to go check on Sophie. Can I get you anything?”

I shook my head. “Thanks though.”

I listened to her footsteps fade down the hall followed by the creak of the screen door. And then blessed silence.

“What did you expect?” I asked myself.

“Pets?” Bartleby said and I laughed because even though I knew he was asking for himself, he’d answered my question.

I’d never come out of the broom closet to anyone who didn’t know about magic before. I’d found the online coven almost by accident, needing people like me to chat with after Nana had passed on and I’d been diagnosed with the autoimmune disease.

I’d never told Chris. It just never came up. Ten years we’d been married, and I’d had no trouble hiding who I was and what I could do. Felt no need to expose myself to him that way.

But I’d told Killian after one kiss.

A tear slipped down my cheek. And he’d rejected me. Again.

The brilliant sunset had faded to darkness. Fireflies lit up the purpling twilight, flashing their mating dance.

The sound of footsteps approached my cabin. Probably Veronica coming back to check on me.

“I’m fine,” I called out as the screen door groaned.

“That’s good to hear.”

I flinched and then struggled to an upright position. That wasn’t Veronica’s voice. My heart pounded, I had the urge to put my hand over my chest.

“So, you’re a witch,” Killian rumbled like distant thunder as he leaned in my doorway. “I’d like to know more about that.”

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