My chest tightened as I trailed after Jen and BooDini down the stairs.

Well done, Devlin. Not only did you throw Jen into emotional chaos by accusing her best friend of murdering her parents, but you also blurted out the very thing you were trying to keep from her, at least for now.

That she is your mate. Perfect timing, really.

Right when she was still reeling from the revelation that she wasn’t responsible for her parents’ deaths, you went ahead and dumped that little bombshell onto the already smoldering wreckage of her emotions.

Way to go. You. Fucked. It. Up.

So caught up in my own self-loathing, I nearly missed the sight of Mr. Cadmus slumped forward on the couch, his frail body trembling, his face buried in his hands. A slow, creeping dread settled in my gut.

“Mr. Cadmus?” Jen’s voice was soft. “Is everything okay?”

Slowly, he lifted his head, revealing bloodshot eyes, his face framed by a tangled beard, damp with tears. Grief was carved deep into his weathered face, a raw, aching thing that made my stomach twist. I didn’t need heightened senses to know he’d been crying for hours.

“Oh, Mr. Cadmus!” Jen rushed forward, wrapping the old basilisk in a fierce embrace.

I clenched my fists, torn between stepping in and giving them space. The sharp whistle of the kettle from the kitchen gave me an excuse to move—to do something, anything , that felt remotely useful. I turned away, joining BooDini in preparing tea, knowing there was little else I could offer.

When I returned, two cups of chamomile tea in hand, the air was thick with mourning. Jen sat beside Mr. Cadmus, his gnarled hand clutched between both of hers. She sniffled, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with sorrow.

“She went very peacefully, Jennifer,” Mr. Cadmus murmured, accepting the tea with a small nod of thanks. He took a deep sip, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. “She just went to bed... and never woke up.”

Jen let out a quiet, broken sob, her fingers tightening around his. I lowered myself onto the couch beside her, resisting the urge to reach out, knowing she needed this moment with him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Cadmus,” I said softly.

He exhaled shakily, nodding again. “Thank you, Devlin.” His gaze dropped to his tea, staring into it as if searching for something lost. “She was so happy yesterday. And I can’t thank you both enough for making her final day one of comfort.”

Jen swallowed thickly, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. I knew what she was thinking—how bright Ms. Cadmus had been, how full of warmth, how unfair it was that such joy had been so fleeting.

Mr. Cadmus drained his tea and set the cup down with a quiet clink . He turned to Jen, his hand shaking from both age and sorrow as he squeezed her shoulder. “Anyway, I need to go. There’s so much to arrange. But I wanted to tell you myself, dear. And to leave you this.”

With painstaking care, he placed a worn silver cake tin on the coffee table. Jen’s breath faltered as he lifted the lid, revealing a perfectly golden apple pie.

“She made this for you yesterday,” Mr. Cadmus said, his voice thick with emotion. “She hadn’t baked in years... but you brought that spark back to her. She was so excited to bring this over to you today.”

A choked sob escaped Jen, her hands trembling as she reached for the tin. “She always made the best apple pie,” she whispered.

Mr. Cadmus cupped her cheek. His fingers trembled as he brushed away her tears. “Think of her when you eat it, dear.”

Jen nodded, unable to form words, her fingers curling around the edge of the tin like it was the last tangible piece of the woman they had lost.

***

I paced the house for what felt like hours, the silence pressing in around me. Jen had retreated to her room, grief weighing her down until sleep became the only escape.

BooDini floated behind me as I stalked from one end of the house to the other, its sheet quivering with each sharp turn. My mind churned. When Jen woke, she’d need comfort—and an explanation.

Guilt twisted deep in my gut. I should’ve waited. Should’ve given her time to breathe before dropping the whole fated mates revelation on her. But there was no undoing it now.

This is going to be fun, I thought bitterly, dragging a rough hand down my face before collapsing onto the couch.

How the hell was I supposed to put this into words?

How could I tell her that she was the reason I had come here in the first place?

That for nine years, I had resented my mate for never summoning me, for forcing me to feed from strangers when she should have been the one to satiate me.

That every pang of hunger, every hollow night had been her fault—at least, that’s what I had believed.

And then to learn the truth. She hadn’t abandoned me. She had been locked away, imprisoned for nearly a decade while I spent those same years cursing her name.

A sharp exhale left me, my chest tightening.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was everything else.

The tangled mess of emotions I hadn’t even begun to sort through.

The feelings I had let myself have. The love that had taken root when I thought she was just a stranger.

The brief guilt I’d felt when I’d considered breaking the bond with my fated mate for someone else, to reject her, only to realize it had been Jen all along.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped me.

Yeah. This conversation was going to be a fucking train wreck.

As the sky deepened into rich cobalt and twilight wove its way through the trees, I exhaled and turned to BooDini. “C’mon. Let’s do something special for Jen.”

Might as well set the stage for this disaster of a conversation.

An hour later, the soft creak of floorboards from upstairs signaled Jen was finally awake. I slid the apple pie into the oven to warm, inhaling the cinnamon-laced scent before turning to face my fate.

Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, her tattered black hoodie twisted, sleeves bunched around her hands as she hugged herself. Her hair was mussed from sleep, her hazel eyes still swollen with the weight of everything that had happened.

“Devlin,” she murmured. “We need to talk.”

My heart plummeted, but I forced myself to nod. “Come outside,” I said, gesturing for her to follow.

She stepped onto the porch—and froze. Her breath faltered as she took in the scene.

BooDini and I had transformed the small backyard into something softer and warmer.

A wicker couch was nestled on the grass, layered with plush cushions and thick blankets—courtesy of BooDini, who had conjured them from whatever mysterious sheet-ghost storage dimension it had access to.

A fire crackled in a stone-lined pit, its golden glow flickering against the dark stretch of sky.

Nearby, a small table stood stacked with an assortment of candy and a box of tissues—because, well, I had no idea how this conversation was going to go, but I figured I’d cover all my bases.

Jen hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, pulling one of the blankets around her shoulders, her fingers curling into the soft fabric like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

She eased onto the couch, her gaze locked onto the fire, the flames casting flickering gold into the depths of her eyes.

She didn’t look at me.

I swallowed hard and lowered myself onto the seat beside her, bracing for whatever came next.

“Have you known this whole time?” she finally asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I exhaled. “I swear to Hades, Jen, I had no idea. I genuinely came here on vacation because I didn’t want to endure another Samhain without being summoned. I thought I was escaping.”

She let out a small, almost bitter laugh, but it faded as quickly as it came. Her fingers fidgeted with the edges of the blanket, twisting the fabric between them. When she spoke again, her voice wavered. “Do you hate me for not being able to summon you?”

“Hate you?” I echoed. “Jen, I’m madly in love with you. I could never hate you.”

She finally met my gaze then, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I was going to summon you that first Samhain,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “It was all I thought about the entire summer.”

Something inside me, something fractured and aching, began to stitch itself back together at her words.

“It’s not your fault, Jen,” I murmured, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into my chest. She stiffened for just a moment before exhaling shakily, letting herself sink into me.

“Besides,” I continued, lips tilting into a small smirk, “this way, I got the privilege of falling in love with a crazy, candy- obsessed witch who asks indecently weird questions on the first date.”

Jen snorted a laugh, shaking her head against my chest. “When did you know?” she mumbled.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the familiar, grounding scent of her. “Only when I found out your dad was an incubus demon. But looking back...” I let out a quiet chuckle. “There were so many obvious clues I missed.”

Jen pulled away slightly, one eyebrow arching. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

I huffed a laugh. “Well, for starters, we met on Samhain. That should’ve been a huge giveaway.”

“Pretty big clue right there,” she agreed, lips twitching.

“And from the moment I stepped into your house, I could no longer return to the Shadow Realm. Classic sign that an incubus demon is about to meet their fated mate.”

“Yeah... there’s that,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

“Oh, and BooDini’s not a real ghost, is it?”

Jen chuckled. “Frankly, I’m astonished you believed a floating sheet with cutout eyes was an actual ghost.”

“Easy mistake,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“And then there was the house itself. A magic Briar Coven house, existing outside the coven’s lands?

Just conveniently appearing wherever you went?

Somehow, it never occurred to me.” I sucked in a breath as another realization struck me. “ Briar Coven. Bramble Cabin.”

Jen snorted, nudging my side. “Really, Devlin, all the clues were there. All that was missing was a giant neon sign flashing Fated Mate Inside !”

I cupped her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her smile.

“And then there was you,” I murmured, my voice dipping into something deeper, something raw.

“From the moment I read your story, I fell in love with Mina’s character.

She was exactly the kind of woman I wanted to find in real life.

And, as Fate would have it, the real-life Mina just happened to stumble into my life. ”

“I stumbled into the bathroom you were jerking off in,” Jen corrected flatly.

I shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for pleasuring himself to the fantasy of his ideal woman.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she deadpanned.

Her breath hitched as I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“I couldn’t help but fall in love with you, Jen.

It’s obvious now, but I spent the entire time kidding myself—telling myself I was only trying to help you with your book.

That every scene we reenacted was just part of the deal, not an excuse to spend more time with you.

And when you insisted on holding up your end of the bargain, making me talk to those other women, it was you I was thinking of the entire time.

Oh, and I nearly killed an orc for making you cry.

That should’ve been a pretty big clue too. ”

Jen’s lips parted in surprise before she let out a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, challenging an orc—a creature infamous for their ability to pop heads off like bottle caps—because they made a girl you were getting fuzzy feelings for cry? Definitely a sign that your emotions were a little more serious than you thought.”

“Yup. Might have been a tad overprotective. And then there was our date,” I added.

Jen groaned. “I still can’t believe you picked a limp spaghetti dick over fingers.”

I smirked, trailing my fingertips in slow circles over her knee. “Do I need to remind you of the benefits of having fully functional fingers, my little witch?”

Her breath stuttered, her eyes darkening with something I felt coil in my own gut.

“When you wanted me to feed from you, mate —” Gods, I loved the way “mate” sounded, saying it out loud.

“—you made me the happiest demon alive.” Jen’s cheeks flushed, but she held my gaze.

“And when you told me you were a virgin, it felt like that first Samhain all over again. You know I wanted to save myself for you too, right?”

I traced my fingers up her thigh, savoring the way she trembled beneath my touch.

“I wanted our first time to be with each other. And while I had to feed to survive, you’re the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted.

Not because I had to. But because I wanted to .

Last night felt like the first time for me too. ”

Jen let out a soft moan, only to release a frustrated huff when I pulled my fingers away, amusement curling my lips.

“And then there was the mating bite,” I added, watching her reaction.

Jen blinked. “Mating bite?” she echoed. “Witches don’t give mating bites...”

I tilted my head, smirking. “But incubus demons do. When you bit me”—I shivered at the memory—“it was all I could do not to sink my teeth into your flesh and claim you in that moment.”

To my surprise, Jen giggled, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “I was just trying to keep my mouth busy so I wouldn’t blurt out that I was in love with you.”

I let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “And instead, you just magically claimed me .”

Her giggles were infectious, and soon, we were both laughing. I pulled her closer, savoring the warmth of her against me, enjoying each ripple of joy radiating from her.

As our laughter faded, Jen exhaled, her fingers trailing lightly over my chest. “There were so many signs, Devlin,” she whispered.

“So many,” I agreed.

I slid from the couch, kneeling before her, my hands resting gently on her knees.

The wind stirred around us, causing the flames in the fire pit to dance higher, casting a dappled light over her face.

My voice dropped to something rich, something smoldering.

“Now,” I murmured, my lips brushing against the soft skin of her thigh as I leaned in, “I believe I owe my little witch a mating bite.”