Page 28 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

TWENTY-EIGHT

T he unexpected poetry from such a serious man stole her breath. Before she could respond, wind swept across the station yard, carrying autumn’s bite. Molly shivered.

Warrick moved without hesitation, his arm sliding around her shoulders. The casual gesture shouldn’t have felt so significant, but heat cascaded through her body at his touch, her magic stirring in response.

“Cold?” His voice rumbled near her ear, sending another shiver that had nothing to do with temperature.

“A little.” She attempted a simple warming spell—a charm performed countless times during winter baking sessions.

But her magic, amplified by Warrick’s proximity, surged beyond control. Golden sparks erupted from her fingertips, swirling around them like fireflies, creating a glowing cocoon of warmth that reflected in Warrick’s eyes.

“Sugar sticks—“ Molly gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean?—“

“Don’t apologize.” His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders. “It’s beautiful.”

In the golden light, the angles of his face softened. The sparks transformed his eyes from amber to molten gold, revealing flecks of bronze she’d never noticed before. His gaze dropped to her mouth, hunger flickering across his features.

Molly’s heart stuttered, then raced. Her skin prickled with awareness, magic humming through her veins. The air between them crackled with more than her wayward spell.

Warrick leaned down, hesitating a breath away from her lips. The pause stretched between them—a question, an offering of choice.

Molly rose on her toes, answering the unspoken question by pressing her mouth to his.

The contact sparked through her body like lightning grounding. His hand slid from her shoulder to cup her cheek, thumb tracing her jawline as the kiss deepened. His mouth moved against hers with restrained hunger as if holding back the full force of his desire.

Her magic responded to the surge of emotion, golden fireflies spinning faster, brighter. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself as the world tilted beneath her feet.

This was nothing like the casual kisses she’d exchanged over the years. This felt elemental—earth meeting fire, root touching flame.

The station’s alarm shattered the moment, its piercing wail slicing through the night. They broke apart, Molly’s chest heaving as if she’d run for miles.

Warrick’s eyes had darkened to burnished bronze, frustration etched in the tight line of his jaw. “I need to check?—“

“Go,” she nodded, stepping back as her magical fireflies dispersed.

She watched him stride toward the entrance, power evident in each movement. Her lips tingled, the taste of him lingering—cedar and spice and something untamed. Her fingers trembled slightly as she touched her mouth.

This changed everything. Pretense had evaporated in the heat of that kiss, leaving uncomfortable truth exposed. Whatever game they’d started playing with “fake dating” had transformed into something far more dangerous.

The station door opened minutes later. Warrick emerged, his expression thunderous.

“False alarm,” he called as he rejoined her. “Third this week. The system triggers without cause.”

“Convenient timing,” Molly noted, grateful for the shift back to their investigation despite her racing pulse.

“Extremely.” His eyes lingered on her mouth before returning to her eyes. “Let’s check the final ward.”

They continued their circuit, the aftermath of their kiss charging the silence between them. At the last crystal, Molly noticed something new—a pattern etched into the stone’s surface.

“Warrick, look.” She pointed to the faint markings. “The interference follows a sequence.”

He crouched beside her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. “You’re right. It pulses in a pattern, almost like code.”

Molly pulled her journal from her purse, recording the sequence. “Let me check the others.”

They revisited each crystal, confirming the same pattern appeared throughout. Warrick cross-referenced recent station incidents.

“The pranks increase with the waning moon,” he observed. “The signature strengthens after each incident.”

“This pattern seems familiar, but...” Molly tapped her pencil against the page, frustrated by the elusive memory.

Warrick closed his eyes, his posture shifting subtly. When his lids lifted, his eyes gleamed with predatory focus, pupils elongated slightly—more tiger than human.

“There.” He pointed toward an area near the garbage bins. “The magical residue concentrates in that spot.”

“You can sense it from here?” Molly moved toward the location, impressed by his abilities.

“My tiger perceives energy patterns humans miss entirely.” His voice carried a rougher edge, his shifter nature closer to the surface.

Molly knelt on the concrete, placing her palm flat against the surface. “Revelio Essentium,” she whispered, invoking an ancient flora witch spell.

Blue light sparked beneath her fingers, spreading outward before coalescing into a distinct triangular rune with curved edges. The symbol pulsed with malevolent energy.

“The saboteur’s signature!” Molly’s excitement bubbled through her. “Once we identify who created this, we can prove their involvement.”

“Can you capture it?” Warrick knelt beside her, close enough that his arm pressed against hers.

“Better.” She flipped to a clean journal page, pressing it against the glowing mark before murmuring another spell. The symbol transferred to paper, continuing to pulsate. “Magical evidence, impossible to forge.”

Their eyes met over the glowing page. Without thinking, Molly raised her hand for a high-five. Warrick completed the gesture, his large hand enveloping hers, then turned the casual celebration into a lingering hold.

His thumb traced circles on her palm, sending sparks of sensation up her arm. “We make quite the team,” he murmured.

“Witch and tiger,” she agreed, suddenly breathless again. “Magic and strength.”

“Intuition and experience.” His fingers threaded through hers, the simple connection igniting another wave of awareness.

The ease of their partnership struck her—how naturally they’d fallen into complementary roles without discussion. For someone who prided herself on independence, the realization that they functioned better together unsettled her deeply.

Movement at the station’s perimeter caught her attention. A silhouette lingered near the fence, partially hidden in shadow. The figure shifted into moonlight—Gus Niles, arms crossed, a smug half-smile playing on his lips as he watched them.