Page 34 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Growing Powers

Willow

I slammed my shop door in frustration, and every plant in the building bloomed at once.

It wasn't subtle—a cascade of unfurling petals, bursting buds, and explosive growth that sent the scent of a hundred different flowers swirling through Florence Botanicals. Mrs. Whitaker, who'd been browsing sympathy arrangements, dropped her purse in shock.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered, staring at my hands as if they might explain what had just happened. "Special... fertilizer. Very potent."

She'd left clutching a complimentary bouquet of impossibly perfect lilies that had been dormant bulbs ten minutes earlier, throwing concerned glances over her shoulder.

That had been three days ago. Three days since I'd woken up alone after the most incredible night of my life. Three days of increasingly desperate attempts to contact Kane. Three days of silence that was slowly crystallizing my hurt into something harder, sharper.

"They're getting worse," Luna observed from the stool behind my counter, watching me absently stroke the leaf of a potted orchid. Within seconds, three new flower spikes erupted from its base, unfurling into full blooms of deep purple. "Or better, depending on how you look at it."

I jerked my hand away from the plant. "I can't control it. They're responding to everything—my thoughts, my emotions. It's like they're extensions of me now."

The shop had transformed in the days since Kane had left my bed without a word.

Plants that had no business blooming in this season displayed spectacular flowers.

Seeds sprouted the moment I touched their packets.

Even the oldest, most stubborn specimens had taken on new life, stretching toward me whenever I passed as if seeking affection.

And they all talked to me now—not in words exactly, but in impressions and images that formed directly in my mind.

The ancient jade plant by the window shared memories of the shop when my grandmother ran it.

The hanging ferns gossiped about customers who brushed past them.

The moonflower that had helped me discover the hidden text in Hazel's grimoire continued to be my most vocal teacher, instructing me in the forgotten ways of Florence floramancy.

"It's the mate bond," Luna said for perhaps the twentieth time. "It's supercharging your natural abilities."

"Fat lot of good that does when my mate has apparently decided to ghost me after sex." I winced as several thorny roses near the counter suddenly grew six inches in response to my spike of anger.

Luna's expression softened. "Have you felt anything from him? Through the bond?"

I closed my eyes, focusing on the constant warm pulse in my chest that had appeared the moment Kane and I had connected. It remained steady, reassuring in its presence if not its content.

"Confusion," I said after a moment. "Conflict. Determination. But it's like he's built a wall between us—I get impressions of emotion, but nothing specific. Nothing that tells me why he left or why he won't answer my calls."

"Men," Luna sighed, though we both knew this was about more than typical relationship flakiness. Something serious was happening, something connected to the curse we'd discovered in Hazel's grimoire.

The bell over the shop door jingled, and Bethany burst in with her usual whirlwind energy, arms laden with takeout bags.

"Food has arrived for the plant whisperer and her coven," she announced, depositing the bags on the counter. "Any word from the disappeared vampire daddy?"

"Bethany," Luna groaned.

"What? He's like three hundred plus years old maybe. That makes him a daddy in vampire years."

Despite everything, I laughed—and immediately the entire shop filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine. The plants were definitely mirroring my emotions with alarming immediacy.

"Still nothing," I admitted, accepting the container of pad thai she passed me. "But I've been making progress with the grimoire."

After discovering Hazel's hidden writing using moonflower nectar, I'd spent most of my nights poring over the ancient book, uncovering more of my ancestor's concealed thoughts. The story that emerged was heartbreaking—Hazel's love for Viktor, then Sara’s for Christopher, and Mary’s for Thomas, and last Patty’s for Michael and their secret bonding, her pregnancy, and his ultimate betrayal when he chose his vampire kingdom over their love.

"And?" Bethany prompted around a mouthful of spring roll.

"And it's complicated." I pushed my food around with chopsticks, appetite diminished by the weight of what I'd learned. "The curse wasn't just a jealous witch's revenge. It was... protective, in a way. Designed with a purpose beyond punishment."

Luna leaned forward, her expression serious. "What purpose?"

"To prevent another Florence witch from being betrayed by a Drake vampire.

" I set down my container, recalling the passages I'd uncovered last night.

"Hazel knew their bloodlines would eventually reconnect.

Then Patty amplified it—so that the dormant Drake traits in her daughter would find their way back to the source somehow.

She created the curse as a test, I think.

A way to ensure that when it happened, the Drake involved would have to make a different choice than Michael did. "

"The choice between love and duty," Luna murmured.

"Exactly." I glanced at the grimoire, which now sat in a place of honor near my register.

"When Michael chose his kingdom over Patty and their child, he triggered the transformation in his people—they started returning to blood drinkers.

But it wasn't just because of their bond.

It was his betrayal that sealed it, that made the transformations permanent. "

Bethany wiped her hands on a napkin, her usual lightheartedness temporarily subdued. "So if Kane makes a different choice..."

"Then maybe the transformations stop," I finished.

"Or at least, that's what I think Hazel was implying with how she describes the curse when she first cast it.

The curse has a 'fatal flaw' according to her hidden notes—it can only be broken by willing sacrifice.

But she never specifies exactly what kind of sacrifice. "

"And you can't ask Kane about any of this because he's gone full ghost mode," Bethany observed.

The reminder sent another spike of hurt through me, immediately reflected in the plants nearest to me, which wilted slightly before rallying.

"I've left him twelve voicemails and twenty-three texts," I said, embarrassed by the desperation that had crept into my messages over the days. "At this point, I'm running out of ways to say 'please call me back, you jerk.'"

The mate bond pulsed in my chest, a steady reminder of what we'd shared—what I thought we'd shared—before he disappeared.

I'd felt him through it occasionally, moments of intense emotion breaking through his barriers.

Frustration. Worry. Determination. But never any explanations, never any response to my increasingly frantic attempts at contact.

"Maybe he's dealing with vampire politics," Bethany suggested, helping herself to my untouched pad thai. "The curse is probably affecting his people, right? If they're turning into blood drinkers, that's got to be a major crisis for someone who runs a fruit bat empire."

"All the more reason to talk to me about it," I countered, anger flaring again. "I have information that could help. I'm literally researching the curse that's affecting them. We should be working together on this."

Luna and Bethany exchanged a look I couldn't quite interpret.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing," Luna said too quickly.

"Just that you're giving off serious 'woman scorned' vibes," Bethany added, gesturing to the plants around us, which had subtly shifted to display more thorns and sharp edges in response to my mood. "And your plants are starting to look like they're planning botanical vengeance."

She wasn't wrong. The once-cheerful flower shop now had an undeniably dangerous edge—vines that moved like serpents, carnivorous plants that snapped with unusual vigor, thorns that gleamed with suspicious sharpness. My emotions were quite literally reshaping my environment.

"I'm not scorned," I insisted, though the word struck uncomfortably close to home. "I'm... concerned. And confused. And yes, hurt. I thought what we shared meant something."

The memory of that night flooded back unbidden—Kane's hands on my skin, his voice rough with desire, the bond flaring between us like a supernova as we connected in every possible way. I'd given myself completely, opening not just my body but my heart, my magic, my very essence to him.

And he'd left before dawn without a word.

"You know what? I am scorned," I decided, standing so abruptly that both my friends startled.

"I am absolutely, righteously scorned. And he doesn't get to do this—to bond with me, to make me feel things I've never felt before, to literally alter my magical abilities, and then just disappear when it becomes inconvenient. "

The plants around the shop rustled in agreement, their collective consciousness aligning with my indignation.

"What are you going to do?" Luna asked cautiously.

A plan was forming in my mind, wild and reckless and fueled by equal parts hurt and rage. "If he won't answer my calls or respond to my texts, I'll find another way to make him pay attention."

"Willow..." Luna's tone carried a warning.

"The mate bond goes both ways," I continued, pacing now as energy coursed through me. "I've been able to feel fragments of his emotions even through his barriers. That means the connection is still there, still active."

"What exactly are you planning?" Bethany asked, looking both concerned and intrigued.