Page 36 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Confrontation and Consequences

Willow

I woke to a jungle.

Overnight, my apartment had transformed into a botanical explosion—vines crawling across ceilings, flowers blooming in impossible density, roots breaking free of pots to spread across my hardwood floors.

The air was thick with oxygen, heavy with the scent of a hundred different blooms. Leaves rustled with conscious awareness as I sat up in bed, surrounded by the aftermath of my magical tantrum.

My head throbbed with a dull ache, evidence of the energy I'd expended the night before.

But beneath the discomfort was something else—a new awareness, a heightened connection to every growing thing around me.

The plants weren't just responding to my emotions anymore; they were extensions of my consciousness, waiting for direction.

And the mate bond... it remained open on my side, a constant pulse of warmth in my chest. But Kane's barriers were firmly back in place, stronger than before.

I could sense his presence, the fact of his existence, but nothing more—no location, no specific emotions.

Just the knowledge that he was somewhere, alive, deliberately shutting me out.

"Coward," I muttered, pushing aside a curtain of morning glory vines that had somehow formed a canopy over my bed during the night. The flowers turned toward me like tiny faces, their purple blooms unfurling in response to my voice.

I made my way to the bathroom, stepping carefully around new root systems that had cracked through my floorboards.

The mirror revealed a woman I barely recognized—my eyes greener than they'd ever been, my skin glowing with unnatural vitality, my hair interwoven with tiny flower buds that had apparently sprouted while I slept.

I looked wild, dangerous, more Florence witch than struggling florist.

As I showered, a thought began to form—a possibility so outrageous it should have seemed impossible.

But after what I'd done last night, after feeling the extent of my connection to plant life and how it had amplified during my deliberate manipulation of our bond, the impossible seemed increasingly within reach.

If Kane wouldn't come to me, wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even answer a damn text message after days of trying, then I would have to find him. And I had a network at my disposal far more extensive than cell towers or internet connections.

I dressed quickly in jeans and a green t-shirt, both of which immediately attracted tiny vines that curled around the fabric like living embroidery. I didn't bother trying to remove them—they were part of me now, responding to my magic, my intention.

In the shop below, I double checked that the sign was flipped to CLOSED and the door was locked and added a hand written note saying that today I would be closed.

This would require concentration, and I couldn't afford interruptions.

The plants rustled in anticipation as I moved to the center of the room, surrounded by the faithful green companions that had been with me since I'd inherited Florence Botanicals.

They knew what I needed before I even said it aloud.

"I need to find him," I told them anyway, closing my eyes and reaching for the mate bond in my chest. "I need to see what he's hiding."

I started small, connecting fully with each plant in the shop, feeling their individual energies merging with mine—the protective instincts of the thorny roses, the ancient wisdom of the jade plant, the youthful exuberance of the newly sprouted seedlings.

Each one added to my awareness, expanded my reach.

Then I pushed outward, beyond the walls of Floramancy, seeking the street trees that lined the sidewalk outside.

They responded instantly, their consciousness flowing into mine—decades of watching the city change, of weathering storms and pollution, of providing shade and shelter.

Through them, I reached the park three blocks away, connecting with every blade of grass, every shrub and sapling.

Further. I needed to go further.

Using our mate bond as a compass, I directed my botanical network outward, following the faint pull in my chest that always pointed toward Kane. Miles beyond the city limits, I connected with forest trees, with field wildflowers, with every growing thing between my shop and wherever he was hiding.

It was overwhelming—thousands of plant consciousnesses flowing into mine, sharing their perceptions, their understanding of the world.

Not in words or images exactly, but in sensations, in awareness.

The silent knowing of growing things that experience life in years and decades rather than minutes and hours.

And then, suddenly, I found him.

My consciousness jumped from a roadside oak to an ornamental garden, then to a potted Ficus in a sleek modern apartment. Through its leaves, I saw Kane.

He sat at a massive desk, his back to the large windows that revealed a spectacular view of the city.

The office was at the top of a tower—his tower, the one he'd brought me to before.

But he wasn't alone. A large screen on the wall showed the faces of three people in what appeared to be a video conference.

"...experimental at best," a severe-looking woman was saying. "The traditional severance ritual hasn't been performed in centuries, and for good reason."

"I'm aware of the risks," Kane replied, his voice sending a shiver through me despite the distance. He looked terrible—skin ashen, eyes shadowed, posture rigid with obvious discomfort. "But time is running out. The transformations are accelerating."

A balding man with wire-rimmed glasses spoke next. "Mr. Drake, breaking a mate bond isn't like dissolving a business contract. The magical backlash could be fatal to both parties."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Kane said, his voice flat, emotionless. "My people are suffering. The curse is spreading faster than anticipated. We need to sever this connection before it's too late or find a way to change it."

The Ficus trembled as my shock and hurt flowed through it. Break our bond? End our connection permanently? After everything we'd shared, after the night that had changed both of us irrevocably, he was sitting in his tower plotting to cut me out of his life without so much as a conversation?

"The Florence witch," another researcher said, a young woman with bright red hair. "She might not survive the procedure. The bond is typically more embedded in the non-vampire party."

Kane's face hardened. "Find a way to mitigate her risk. I'll absorb whatever backlash I need to. Just get me the procedure as quickly as possible."

My heart shattered in my chest, pain so acute it rippled outward through my plant network, causing the Ficus to drop several leaves on Kane's pristine desk. He glanced up, frowning slightly at the sudden plant distress, but returned his attention to the screen.

"We'll prepare the documentation," the severe woman said. "But I strongly advise consulting with the witch before proceeding. Consent from both parties significantly reduces the dangers."

"That won't be possible," Kane replied, and I caught a flicker of something—regret? Fear?—cross his face before his expression hardened again. "Just send me what I need to know. I'll handle the consequences."

The call ended, and Kane sat motionless for several long moments, staring at nothing. Through the mate bond, I felt waves of his suppressed emotion leaking through his barriers—conflict, determination, and beneath it all, a bone-deep fear that had nothing to do with his own safety.

It wasn't enough to justify his betrayal.

I snapped back into my own body with such force that I stumbled, catching myself on the counter. The plants around me had gone still, sensing the storm brewing inside me. Rage and hurt battled for dominance, both so powerful they made it difficult to breathe.

He was going to break our bond. He was going to sever our connection permanently. Without telling me. Without asking me. Without even giving me the chance to understand why or offer alternatives.

My keys were in my hand before I'd made a conscious decision to move.

I locked the shop behind me, sliding into my car with a single purpose burning through my veins.

Our bond in my chest throbbed with my accelerating heartbeat, sending out waves of my fury and betrayal that I hoped were battering against his barriers like a hurricane.

I drove like a woman possessed, taking the mountain roads at speeds that should have terrified me. But fear was a distant concern compared to the need to confront Kane, to force him to look me in the eyes while he explained why he thought he had the right to make this decision for both of us.

The plants along the roadside bent toward my car as I passed, responding to the magical energy radiating from me in waves. Flowers bloomed out of season, trees leaned from their upright positions, vines grew several inches in seconds. I was a storm of power, fueled by betrayal and rage.

Kane's tower came into view as I rounded the final curve—a sleek spire of glass and steel rising from the pavement, surrounded by pristine gardens and security checkpoints. I didn't slow down. The gate ahead remained closed, but I didn't care. I was beyond caution, beyond reason.

"Open," I commanded, not the gate but the plants surrounding it.

The response was immediate and dramatic.

Ornamental hedges uprooted themselves, moving aside to create a path.

Flowering vines pulled themselves free of decorative trellises to wrap around security cameras, obscuring their view.

Even the carefully manicured lawn participated, roots breaking through the soil to buckle the driveway, creating diversions for the security guards who came running at the disturbance.