Page 27 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Morning Light

Willow

S unlight filtered through my window, casting patterns across rumpled sheets that smelled faintly of cedarwood and cinnamon.

I stretched, every muscle pleasantly sore, before realizing the space beside me was empty.

The lingering warmth on Kane's side of the bed suggested he hadn't been gone long, but his absence still created a hollow feeling in my chest.

"So that's how it's going to be," I murmured to the empty room, trying to ignore the disappointment curling through me.

What had I expected? A vampire CEO with morning meetings and world domination plans probably didn't do breakfast and awkward morning-afters.

Even though I thought our relationship was beyond the awkward morning-after phase.

I rolled over, burying my face in his pillow and inhaling deeply—a pathetically needy gesture I'd deny if anyone asked. The mate bond hummed contentedly in my chest despite his absence, like a well-fed cat lounging in sunlight. Traitor.

A glance at my phone showed no messages from Kane, but three increasingly frantic texts from Luna and five from Bethany, the last one reading: "IF YOU DON'T CONFIRM YOU'RE ALIVE IN 10 MINUTES WE'RE COMING OVER WITH HOLY WATER AND A VAMPIRE HUNTING KIT."

I smiled despite myself, typing back: "Alive. Alone. Details when you get here."

Their response was immediate—they were already on their way with coffee and pastries. So much for a quiet morning of processing whatever the hell had happened last night.

The bathroom mirror revealed evidence of our night together—a love bite at the junction of my neck and shoulder, my hair a wild tangle of waves, and my lips still slightly swollen from his kisses.

I looked... different. Not just the obvious physical signs, but something in my eyes, something that hadn't been there before.

A certainty, maybe. Or possibly just the afterglow of spectacular sex.

As I showered, flashes from the night before played through my mind on repeat.

Kane's hands on my skin. His voice, rough with desire, whispering my name.

The way the bond had flared between us, connecting us in ways I couldn't have imagined.

The fruit crown—oh goddess, I had actually put fruit in my hair to seduce a fruit bat vampire.

Heat rushed to my cheeks at the memory, though it had certainly achieved the desired effect.

By the time I emerged, dressed in my comfiest sweater and leggings, the apartment seemed different. I froze in the doorway of my living room, blinking in confusion.

Every plant in my apartment was in full, vibrant bloom.

My modest collection of houseplants had transformed overnight.

The spider plant that had been struggling for months now cascaded over its pot, babies sprouting from every runner.

My peace lily sported three spectacular white blooms. The pothos had grown at least a foot, its vines reaching across the bookshelf in leafy profusion.

And my orchids—my temperamental, finicky orchids that I'd been coaxing back to health after months of dormancy—were displaying the most spectacular show of blossoms I'd ever seen. Deep purples and delicate whites, their petals glossy and perfect.

"What the..." I whispered, approaching them with cautious steps. This wasn't natural growth. This was magic—my magic, somehow enhanced and amplified beyond anything I'd experienced before.

I reached out to touch a perfect orchid bloom, and as my fingers brushed its petals, I felt an answering pulse of... something. Awareness? Recognition? It was as if the flower leaned into my touch, like a cat seeking affection.

The buzzer from the shop's side door interrupted my bewilderment. Luna and Bethany, right on time with their interrogation breakfast.

"It's open!" I called, still unable to tear my eyes from the botanical explosion in my apartment.

Footsteps clattered up the stairs, and my friends burst into the room with all the subtlety of a glitter bomb. Bethany carried a tray of coffee cups while Luna balanced a pink bakery box, both of them already talking over each other before they'd fully crossed the threshold.

"—can't believe you didn't text us last night—" "—worried sick when you didn't answer—" "—whole festival talking about you two—"

They stopped abruptly, finally noticing the jungle that had overtaken my apartment.

"Holy mother of moonstone," Luna breathed, nearly dropping the pastry box. "What happened in here?"

Bethany's eyes widened as she took in the riot of blooms. "Did you do a growth spell? Because I'm pretty sure normal plants don't go from zero to rainforest overnight."

"I didn't do anything," I said, accepting the coffee cup she thrust toward me. "They were like this when I woke up."

Luna set the pastry box on the counter and moved to examine my fiddle leaf fig, which had doubled in size and sprouted a dozen new leaves. Her silver rings glinted as she ran her fingers over a leaf, her expression shifting from surprise to knowing.

"The mate bond," she said simply. "It's affecting your magic."

"That's... possible?" I sipped my coffee, grateful for the warm caffeine boost. My body still felt pleasantly relaxed from last night's activities, but my mind was racing to catch up with everything.

"Mate bonds enhance everything," Bethany said, settling cross-legged on my couch and opening the pastry box. "It's like... supernatural steroids for your natural abilities. Haven't you read any of the pamphlets I've been leaving around your shop?"

"I thought those were your cupid marketing materials," I admitted, selecting a cinnamon roll.

Luna continued her examination of my plants, her expression more serious than her teasing tone. "So, are we going to talk about the vampire-shaped elephant in the room? Or more specifically, the vampire who was clearly in your bed last night?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "It just... happened."

"Things don't 'just happen' with vampire kings," Bethany said, licking frosting from her fingers. "Did he do the fruit bat transformation thing? Was it weird? Did he bite you? Can fruit bat vampires even bite properly?"

"Bethany!" Luna shot her a look.

"What? We're all thinking it!"

I collapsed onto the couch beside Bethany, cradling my coffee like a lifeline. "It wasn't weird. It was... nice. Really nice. And no, he didn't transform into a bat mid-coitus, thank you very much."

"Just nice?" Luna's eyebrow arched skeptically as she perched on the arm of the couch. "The plants in your apartment look like they've been mainlining miracle grow, and all you can say is 'nice'?"

I buried my face in my hands. "Fine. It was earth-shattering, cosmos-realigning, best-night-of-my-life sex with a being who has literally centuries of experience. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Now we're getting somewhere," Bethany said with a grin. "Details, please. For scientific purposes."

"Absolutely not."

"At least tell us where he is now," Luna pressed, her eyes scanning the apartment as if Kane might be hiding behind the suddenly oversized snake plant.

The question dimmed my mood slightly. "Gone when I woke up. No note, no messages."

"Men," Bethany scoffed. "Doesn't matter if they're human, werewolf, or ancient vampire. They all pull the same disappearing act."

"Maybe he had an early meeting?" Luna suggested, though her expression had shifted to something more concerned. "Running a supernatural empire probably comes with a demanding schedule."

I shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant than I felt. "It's fine. I wasn't expecting a marriage proposal after one night together."

"One extremely magical night together that made your plants have the equivalent of a botanical orgasm," Bethany pointed out, gesturing to the lush greenery surrounding us.

I nearly choked on my coffee. "Can we please find a different metaphor?"

Luna was examining a particularly vibrant ivy now, her brow furrowed. "There's something else going on here," she murmured. "This isn't just enhanced growth. It's almost like they're... more aware somehow."

As if responding to her words, the ivy's leaves rustled slightly despite the absence of any breeze. I felt a strange prickle along my spine, like I was being watched—not by Luna or Bethany, but by the plants themselves.

"They've been acting strange all morning," I admitted. "Almost like they're more... present than before."

"Floramancy isn’t just the name of your shop, it’s your specialty in your magic," Luna said thoughtfully. "Maybe the mate bond is enhancing that specific connection, making it stronger or deeper somehow."

I moved to the windowsill where my favorite moonflower bloomed impossibly out of season, its white petals luminous even in daylight. As I touched its stem, the strangest sensation washed over me—a whisper that wasn't quite sound, more like an impression forming directly in my mind.

Remember the book.

I jerked my hand back, heart racing. "Did you hear that?"

Luna and Bethany exchanged confused glances.

"Hear what?" Bethany asked, pastry halfway to her mouth.

"The—" I stopped, feeling slightly insane. "I could have sworn the moonflower... spoke to me."

Instead of laughing, Luna's expression turned serious. "What did it say?"

"'Remember the book,'" I repeated, the words sending a chill through me. "The grimoire I took from the library maybe? About Hazel Florence and Viktor Drake."

Bethany's eyes widened. "Your plant is telling you to read a book about your vampire boyfriend's ancestor? That's... specific."

I crossed to my messenger bag where the grimoire still sat from my library visit. The book felt warm under my touch, almost alive, as if it had been waiting for me to remember it.

"There has to be something in here I missed," I said, setting it on the coffee table. "Something about their bond, about what happened between them."

"And why her plant is suddenly chatty," Bethany added, leaning forward to peer at the ancient book.