Page 106 of Hungry As Her Python

I was in my happy place—testing new recipes, perfecting the old ones.

Apple cider donuts?

Divine.

Pumpkin muffins?

Basically an edible hug.

And not to brag (okay, maybe a little), but I made them better than anyone else.

Not conceit. Just facts.

But even better than all my plotting and planning for the season was the fact that, deep inside me, I felt settled.

For the first time in years, my magic wasn’t fizzling or sputtering from stress—it hummed.

Warm. Steady. Certain.

Petyr, my ever-snarky Domovyk, had been helping me sharpen it too, teaching me old-school Witch tricks and whispering supernatural secrets I didn’t even know existed.

(Seriously, some of those recipes from the old grimoires? Wild. One of them involved pickled frog toes. Don’t ask.)

But most of all, I was grounded because of him.

My husband.

My mate.

My ridiculously sexy Snake man who I simply could not get enough of.

Conrad completed me in every way—mind, body, soul, and occasionally, snack preferences.

Seriously, it’s hard to find someone who understands the true glory of ingredient combos like peanut butter bacon and lemon rose petal.

Anyway, I loved every second of our life together.

He was supportive in ways that mattered, and thoughtful in ways that floored me daily.

Flowers in my kitchen.

Notes tucked in my apron pocket.

A new whisk charmed to never clump batter.

And yes—I still had my girls.

The Witch Trifecta of Castor’s Corner was as strong as ever.

Sure, we’d all gotten ourselves hitched to our fated Shifters, and yeah, our lives had changed in big ways. But the core truth hadn’t shifted.

We were still besties.

Still cousins.

Still the magical chaos unit this town didn’t deserve but desperately needed.

Things had actually been calm lately.