37. Whitley Whitt

Chapter 37

Whitley Whitt

Witches get stitches .

A loud beeping wakes me, and I peek one eye open, groaning at the sound. Kill it with fire .

I pull my pillow over my head, trying to avoid the sounds of the fax machine, wishing it would stop. I sit up in Connor’s bed and find him blissfully unaware, still asleep, his mouth open on a soft snore. Warmth spreads in my chest at how carefree and at peace he finally seems to be, and at how gently he carried me to his room earlier from the woods, like I’m something precious to him.

I glance at the light peeking through the deep-blue folds of the window curtain. Daylight already? The machine beeps again, reminding me of how I now wish we stayed in my room instead, since my suite doesn’t come with fax capabilities.

The stupid thing is still going off.

I groan and move to get out of the bed, my lips curling up when Connor’s strong arms around my middle try to keep me in it. He rolls in his sleep and drapes an arm and leg over my body, pinning me to the bed, his breath chuffing lightly in my ear.

“I have to pee,” I whisper, hoping I truly haven’t woken him up.

He grumbles but lets me go.

I do my business and make my way back into the bedroom, bending and twisting, astonished at how I’m not really sore. I yawn and cover my mouth, checking the time on the nearby clock—almost one p.m. I was pinned on his big dick until dawn, so there’s no surprise it’s so late.

The red gleam of the flashing fax light catches my attention again.

Crap.

I suppose I should check just in case it’s important. How should I know when business tycoons are meant to get stuff?

Shock and confusion collide when I spot my name in bold letters on the top page and my brows come together even tighter when I see it attached to a deed of sale.

What is this?

Connor emits a soft snore, and I flinch, immediately chiding myself when I do. I shouldn’t be going through his personal stuff, but my name is there, clear to see, so it’s not wrong to go through it. Right?

I flip to the next page and splutter.

My eyes bulge.

A bill of sale for The Marionette, my grandmother’s old bakery, signed over to one Whitley Whitt. The Marionette is mine? My lips part, and I read it again.

I tear through the pages until I get to the one that looks most official, along with a note. Bill of Sale from Fortescue and Sons—to me. The Marionette and all property therein... deed of purchase.

The words melt away as tears fill my eyes and overflow, spilling down my cheeks as I cry.

“Come to bed,” Connor says, his voice all warm and sleepy.

I touch my cheeks and rub away the tears on my face.

A smile spreads even as I cry with joy. This impossible man. I barely told him anything about the location of the bakery at all, and I wonder how long it took him to hunt down which one it was. I own the Marionette, and all I want to do is dive back into bed with him and never leave his castle again. I bite my lip.

He must have started this a while ago if he’s just getting the official paperwork now.

“Whitley?” he grumbles, and I move to put the paper back on the fax machine.

“I’m here.” I want to always be here.

As soon as I’m within reaching distance, I grin and wait for it. Sure enough, before I can take my next breath, strong arms band around me and pull me across the blue sheets to his chest.

The man can never let me sleep alone. Even when we were frenemies, he had to be touching me, and now I wouldn’t want anything else. It’s odd how all I ever wanted was the bakery, so I would feel like I had family again, but all I really needed were his arms around me.

I lie there for a long moment, his chin atop my head, listening to his breathing mellow into a deep sleep. My phone pings, vibrating from the nightstand just as my eyes are shutting.

I frown and stretch to retrieve it.

An unknown number shows on the screen with a message:

Unknown:

Meet me in the parlor room.

Me:

Who is this?

The phone beeps again and the word Odette pops across the screen. I stifle a groan. How the hell did she get my number?

I glance back at Connor, looking cuddle worthy in the extreme. She cannot be serious. Now?

My phone vibrates again.

Unknown:

Yes, now.

I didn’t even text anything! Freaking witches.

Yellow flashes in my vision. Annoyed, but knowing I will never get any sleep until I find out what she wants, I scoot away from Connor again. He doesn’t move this time as I get out of the bed.

After slipping on my house shoes, I make my way down the winding back stairs toward the kitchen, wondering what the hell the Witch Queen could possibly want with me. I wrap my robe around me a bit tighter when a cold draft makes my skin break out in goosebumps and curse myself for ever leaving Connor’s arms. Dammit, what am I doing?

I grumble to myself, my body still tired from last night, feeling entirely put out.

“Come on, Whitley,” Odette says, standing at the parlor-room door.

I take a look at her outfit today: high-waisted dark blue pants and a white blouse with matching blue stilettos. There is no way those can be comfortable.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?”

That’s when I notice the coffee mug in her hand. A stick appears that begins swirling and a strong wind seems to blow across the top of the cup.

“Oh. No thanks,” I say, eyeing the coffee like it may reach out and bite me.

She shrugs, the stick in the cup still stirring as she walks further inside. I stand halfway in the room and wait for her to speak. Since I’m up now, I’m hungry and should make Connor and me some brunch.

“So, I wanted to ask you about something. I’m leaving this afternoon and won’t get another chance to talk to you, but I wanted to tell you about a tea I can make that could help you and Connor as a contraceptive. Only if you want.”

“A tea?” I ask, but I hear his approach even before he says anything.

I guess I didn’t sneak away as well as I thought. He’s so damn fast.

Connor’s imminent appearance has me and Odette locking our gazes, interrupting whatever she was about to say.

I turn to him with a sigh when he comes through the doorway. His hair’s a mess and he looks disgruntled, wearing just a dark-colored T-shirt and jogging pants. I can tell he just threw anything on to chase after me, since his feet are bare.

“You will not take any potion. I forbid it,” he says, jabbing a finger in Odette’s direction. “And how dare you bring this up without me around!”

Potions? What?

Odette lets out a little huff full of disgust and plants her hands on her hips. “It’s meant to help you.”

“Wait. How did you know that’s what she wanted?” I ask, looking up at his annoyed face as he rushes further into the room, then I turn back to her. “Is that what you wanted?”

“That’s all she ever wants,” Connor states, coming to my side and slipping his hand across my waist. He stares down at the cup of coffee in her hand, and his nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Even now, she could be pregnant. I just assumed that you two would want some time together before the kids come along,” Odette says, before settling into a chair at a small table for two.

Kids? I blink, unsure how to process that, having practically abandoned the idea of children since my divorce, and glance up at Connor. If I ever wanted any, even as much as I know Odette is trying to help, I’m one-hundred-percent positive that I don’t want potions. Just the thought of taking magic on purpose feels weird, and the idea that children could be an option for me again fills me with hope.

“No potions. Do not give her any—we do not want any— ever .” Connor blanches, his skin paling like the idea leaves him sick.

“Will you stop being so overbearing? I would never do anything to hurt her and anything I would give her would be completely safe!” Odette shouts, her tone pissed off and eyes looking like unicorn sprinkles. “Listen. The women are speaking right now about a woman’s body.”

“She’s not taking anything from you,” he shouts, shaking his head as he steps to the side. “As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, your potions and spells have consequences.”

“How rude!”

She gets to her feet and squares off against him, the air crackling with energy. He lets out a ferocious sound and starts after her, yellow tinting his eyes as fur sprouts on his forearms. He growls at her, and I can tell it’s a warning for her to stop meddling.

“You know what?!” she shouts. “Take this, you ungrateful little mutt.”

My eyes widen at her words, and also because Connor is suddenly lifted off the floor. His gaze is stark with fear and he’s there one second and gone the next, disappearing from thin air as his clothes drop to the ground.

“Connor?” My voice is a startled whisper, just as a low whining sound emits from the bundle of fabric. My jaw drops. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

Silence spreads, the room going deathly quiet for a moment.

“I turned him into a puppy.” Her voice sounds like she is completely unashamed by that.

“You did what ?!”

“Oh, like it was my fault,” she exclaims, waving her arms. “You saw him. He was totally about to bite my head off.”

“He was not!” I snap. I don’t actually know. Who knows with Connor? And I already have a feeling he’s actually not super content with Odette’s power .

She gasps, as if she can’t believe she’s been caught in her lie, and levels a finger at me. “Whitley, werewolves and lycans are both extremely fertile, and newsflash, human birth control isn’t always foolproof when it comes to your kind. I was trying to do you a favor, which is why I mentioned the potion in the first place. I was only trying to help .”

A sharp puppy yip steals my attention, making my stomach sink. I bend down and get on my knees, brushing Connor’s jeans off the small husky puppy, with big blue soulful eyes and cute little ears, that peeks up at me. His little tail wags where it’s tucked between his legs, and he whimpers loudly.

I cuddle him to my chest. “Oh my god, turn him back.”

Then, like the universe refuses to give me a moment of peace, I hear movement in the hallway.

“Whitley, is that you? I’ve been trying to find you all day,” Maria says, before she peeks her head into the room. Her eyes grow wide, as does her mouth when she smiles. “Oh, my goodness! That is the cutest puppy. Can I pet him?”

Maria comes into the room and greets Odette, obviously assuming she’s a new guest and the husky is hers.

“Umm, sure,” she says.

I stare in horror as Maria baby talks the entire way to Connor in puppy form in my arms before taking him from me.

She turned my boyfriend into a puppy.

“What did you do?” I whisper-yell at Odette while the puppy tries to lick at Maria’s face, obviously not conscious as himself in this form.

“He’s so much cuter this way,” Odette says, a genuine smile pulling at her lips as she watches him.

“ Odette , be serious.” I stomp my foot and give her a look that conveys, What the actual fuck?

“It will be alright, and it should wear off,” the dark-haired witch whispers with a shrug of her dainty shoulder. “I was annoyed, and he was being rude.”

I gape at her. “You didn’t have to turn him into a puppy,” I mutter back.

I’m horrified as Maria begins rubbing Connor’s soft underbelly and he wags his tail, his tongue hanging from his mouth. Maria laughs happily and holds Connor to her face, letting the little husky lick all over her.

I know Connor well enough to know he will literally have a conniption when he discovers what Odette did. Actually, I think he’ll be mortified to learn that he was being baby talked by Maria.

“Odette, do something and fix this,” I say, frowning at her as a cold shiver of dread slips up my spine. I really don’t want to see a furious Connor again any time soon.

“I can’t do anything, Whitley. It’s just going to have to wear off. Messing with magic like that is dangerous,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“ Then why did you magic him at all ?” I whine.

“I was a bit busy trying to not get eaten by your testosterone-loaded boyfriend.” Sarcasm drips off her tone, and my vision goes to yellow.

“How long will he be like this?”

Odette shrugs. “Could be an hour, could be a few days.”

I groan and rub at my forehead, wondering how in the hell I’m going to keep the hotel functioning without Connor. My heart begins to thunder, and I suck in a few short breaths to keep from panicking and revealing my freaky little lycan alter-ego to the class. I can just see myself trying to explain to Maria that it’s me, and I’m not here to eat her.

Fear spreads at the thought of others questioning where he’s gone. Oh my god, what about when Allan starts asking questions?

“Who’s a cute puppy, who’s a cutey?! What’s his name?” Maria asks, breaking me out of my nightmare.

“Asshole, most of the time,” Odette mutters so only I can hear.

I shoot her a glare, appalled at her antics.

“His name is Roofus.” Her soft, cultured tone rings out in the parlor room, the sound fake to my ears. “Rhymes with Doofus.”

I wheeze. Okay, that was kind of funny.

I stare, completely dismayed, as Maria kneels on the floor with him and scratches at Connor’s neck. He seems to adore it, his tail wagging with his butt planted firmly on the carpeted floor. My brow furrows and my stomach dips when the tiny puppy bends to start licking at his balls, and then—nope. Can’t let him.

“No, no, Doofus. I mean Roofus.” My face heats with shame as I try to cover my blunder.

Odette cackles with glee as I scoop up the little dog into my arms again, and stare into his blue eyes. His fluffy tail starts wagging, and he tries to lick wildly at my face, right after he licked where he shouldn’t have!

“ Oh god , there’s not a thought in his head.”

I set him back down when he won’t settle, letting him check out the room, while praying he doesn’t decide to pee anywhere. Too late. He lifts a leg against a chair leg.

“I was only joking. Just give it an hour, okay?” Odette says, making me want to throw another candlestick at her head. “Jeez, people act like magic is easy or something, and it’s not.”

I scramble to the door the moment I see Connor’s little puppy butt escaping from the room. Wondering where he is trying to head off to, I cinch my robe tightly at my waist and follow him. I am not dressed for this crap.

He’s quicker than I think when he starts sprinting fast, rushing through the hallways like his life depends on it. He never looks back at me while I try to catch him until we come upon the entrance hall of the castle.

The double doors near the grand entryway open and Connor barrels outside, yipping happily.

“Stop him!” I shout, terrified that he will somehow get lost outdoors.

I run at full speed, uncaring who sees.

“Whose dog is this?”

A pissed-off looking Vlad stands on the doorstep with a very happy Connor in his grip. His tiny puppy tail is wagging for all to see, while Vlad holds him by the neck with a look of pure disgust on his face. At least it’s by the scruff, and it doesn’t appear to be hurting him.

“Awww, he’s so cute,” Aubrey says, standing at Vlad’s side, trying to pet him as Connor wiggles to lick at Vlad’s cheek.

“Why is there a new dog at the castle?” Vlad asks again, and I wonder how in the hell I ever thought he was human. “Wasn’t one enough? Especially since the last one had such large, ugly, bulging eyes.”

I’m sure he’s talking about Fifi the pug, and to his credit, the dog did have protruding, soulless eyes that peered into your very being.

I go to tell him it’s Connor, just as he starts peeing all over Vlad’s nice suit.

Aubrey gasps and covers her mouth with a palm, her expression equally shocked and delighted.

An inhuman growl erupts from Vlad, and it’s my turn to gasp when Connor manages to swipe a lick at his face, just before Vlad turns and heads straight for the shallow side of the moat.

“Wait, no!” I shout, but it’s too late.

I groan and squeeze my eyes closed when the incensed vampire dips my puppified mate into the water for a quick bath. This cannot be real life.