Page 16 of Bewitched By the Voodoo King (The Bewitching Hour #7)

Several people stopped to visit and talk with Rune as we walked out of the compound, and even as we ventured farther from the coven, he was still recognized.

He was like a local celebrity. Which made sense, I guessed.

His face was a marvel, and he had the magic to back up his scowl.

He would nod acknowledgment and ask “how’s ya mom and them?

”—whatever that meant— he literally asked everyone it, and if he didn’t…

they would. It seemed like a term of endearment of some kind.

But I could hardly focus on any of that as I was trying my hardest not to melt in the heat, not to mention the fact that I could hardly keep up with the man who had a stride of a football field.

A short walk to Rune and a short walk for me were very different.

His long legs carried him much farther and faster than my little legs did, so that meant I had to put forth a lot more effort to keep up with him—I was dying.

By the time we got to the little shop, I was covered in sweat and out of breath. It didn’t help that the air was so heavy here with humidity; it felt like I was treading through it, rather than walking down the street. I practically gulped in the air conditioning as Rune opened the door for me.

The smell of coffee and pastries baking smacked me in the face, and it almost made up for the miserable commute.

I stopped and looked around, taking it all in—the checkered flooring, vintage signs, and even the stools next to a bar top on the opposite side of the room.

It was probably one of the cutest places I’d ever been to.

Charm floated in the air around us and wrapped around my body like a warm hug.

“Why don’t you find us somewhere to sit, and I’ll order?” Rune’s eyes skipped over my body, and I just knew he was judging me and all the sweat. I couldn’t help it.

“If you judge me for one more second, I’m going to throw a beignet in your face.

” I stuck my tongue out at him, and his lips turned up for the first time since we’d left the coven.

Why did he have to look at me like that?

It made me hotter than the heat outside.

I looked away from his amused gaze and took a deep breath.

I found a small two-top table near the window and sank into the seat with a groan.

The air conditioning kissed my skin, and I tried to discreetly pat down my face with a napkin before anyone else saw me looking like I’d just emerged from the depths of a swamp.

Which, to be fair, was kind of what it felt like.

I watched Rune chat with the girl behind the counter—who obviously knew him and smiled like she was one second away from writing her number on a napkin.

He returned with two iced coffees and a small tray that made my soul ascend. Seated in the middle of the tray were a couple of paper bags and a canister with white powder in it. Powered sugar, I hoped.

He picked up one of the bags and then started dumping the white powder into it before he rolled up the top of the bag and shook it.

I followed his movements, completely unsure of myself.

He opened his bag, and I did the same. We stared at each other as we both took a bite, and my face flamed as a moan escaped my lips.

Powdered sugar erupted in the back of my mouth as the warmth of the pastry seemed to coat my soul.

“Marry me,” I whispered down to the puffy beignet. I blinked as I looked up at a very amused Rune and corrected myself, “I was talking to the beignet.”

His grin only continued to stretch across his face, and my stomach bottomed out. “Uh-huh. Sure. I can’t believe you’d propose on the first date.”

I raised a brow. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t propose to a beignet on a first date? You’re out of your mind.”

He shook his head and chuckled softly before he reached forward for his iced coffee. Then his words registered, and I almost choked. Our first date. This was our first date.

Instead of letting me stew on his words, he changed the subject slightly. “You really do like food. Or rather, baked goods.”

I looked down at the powdered sugar coating my fingers and some of my lap. I was really glad I hadn’t worn black today. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

I could practically hear the gears spinning in his head, but he didn’t press, and I didn’t elaborate.

We ate our delicious morsels in comfortable silence, and I wondered if I’d revealed too much.

Did witches say they were good at their magic?

Did they consider that their only hobby?

I had no idea. I felt like a fish out of water.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, if you’re only good at one thing… at least it’s something that makes people happy.”

His voice was casual, but the words landed deeper than I expected. I looked up, surprised, and caught the barest hint of sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t a compliment thrown out of pity—it was real. And coming from him, it felt almost sacred.

“I like making people happy,” I admitted, a little shyly. “Even if it’s just with muffins.”

I dusted my fingers off with a napkin and reached for my coffee. “So, is this where you tell me what kind of work we’re actually doing today? Because I know you didn’t just bring me here for sugar therapy.”

And it wasn’t just our first date… Yes, it could have been those things, or it could have been to show me off to the coven like he’d suggested, but there was a feeling in my gut that said otherwise.

He smirked. “Sugar therapy was a bonus.”

“Then what’s the main event?” I asked, raising a brow.

His expression shifted—more serious now, more like the Rune that stalked around the compound. “I want to take you to the edge of the coven grounds. Into the woods.”

I blinked. “The woods?”

“To see if your magic can sense anything strange. Patterns. Wards. Traces of wolves.”

My stomach twisted. Not because of fear—okay, maybe a little fear—but more from the pressure. I didn’t have magic. Oh ancestors, I wouldn’t sense anything. But I couldn’t tell him that, at least not yet. We’d had such a good first date, I couldn’t ruin it with my lack of magic.

My lack of magic ruined everything…

So instead, I nodded and popped the last bit of beignet into my mouth as I pretended I wasn’t falling apart inside. “Well,” I said after swallowing, “if I get eaten by a wolf, promise me you’ll name a pastry after me.”

“Anything for you,” and foolishly, my heart skipped a beat.

Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve—Barataria Preserve was what the sign read as our vehicle pulled off onto the side of the road.

We’d traded out the loud city for the quiet, kind of creepy, bayou.

There wasn’t a soul out, which was convenient but also scary considering the dark cloud rolling in overhead.

I closed the door softly behind me as I climbed out of the vehicle. I was honestly surprised Rune owned one. It wasn’t anything fancy, he said it was his dad’s and that his was in storage somewhere, as he usually didn’t need to use one.

“This seems kind of far,” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “Why would the wolves travel all the way to the heart of New Orleans from here?”

I knew the wolves didn’t exactly have traffic in the woods, but it had to take them a while to get to the city. Rune ran a hand down his face. “Well, these wolves have some kind of magic because they’re getting through the boundary.”

My eyes skipped over the air around us, and I nodded—completely naive to another thing. I hated this lack of magic thing.

Rune smirked. “You can’t see the wards, but they’re there. My father’s father had them established a very long time ago, with witches all over the country. They don’t keep us in, but they do keep bad juju out. Any ill intent of the magic community isn’t allowed to pass through.”

His eyes skipped over the tree line before landing heavily on me. “That’s how it is for all covens. Even yours back home.”

Gulp. I shrugged. “I guess being the baby of the family never did me any favors.”

His eyes remained on me, though he didn’t say anything for a beat.

“So do we go through them or?” I didn’t know what to say.

He blinked out of whatever thoughts he was stuck on and nodded once. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t like leaving the coven in the hands of Louis for very long.”

Uh oh. “You don’t trust him?”

Tension left his shoulders as he chuckled. “It’s not that at all. He’s just a hot mess and loves to rile people up. If we stay gone too long, the whole coven will be chaos when we get back.” He shrugged. “It’s his nature.”

His jaw tightened as he took a step forward, all of the tension entering his body again. I followed Rune down a path between massive cypress trees and watched my feet. I knew there had to be alligators around these parts; I wasn’t stupid.

The deeper we walked on the trail, the more the atmosphere shifted.

The air grew thicker—heavier—with that distinct earthy, musky smell of swamp water and moss.

Spanish moss hung like ghostly veils from tree branches, and the sound of insects rose in a steady, hypnotic hum.

Every so often, I swore I saw something ripple across the water beside the trail.

Every time I swore I saw it, I slouched my body closer to Rune, but I refused to make a sound; I didn’t want to look like a wimp.

After all, I was here to save the day, whatever that meant.

Rune walked ahead of me, calm and focused, his boots crunching against the boardwalk like he’d done this a hundred times before. I tried to match his steady pace, but my nerves were starting to fray.

“This place is… haunted,” I muttered.

He didn’t turn around, but I could hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s not haunted. It’s alive.”

“Great. Because that’s not creepy at all.”

“I mean it,” he said, slowing just enough for me to fall in beside him. “This land remembers. Magic lingers here longer than in the city.”