Page 45 of Hungry As Her Python

“Shut up,” I muttered, kicking off my shoes before my feet staged a mutiny.

“She’s just jealous ‘cause we were talking dongs, and she hasn’t seen one in a while, right, Bella?” Donny said, smirking like she’d been waiting all week for this moment.

“FYI, Ryan is packing, ladies! And in a Bear-sized way. So, Bella, how long’s it been since you’ve seen a good ding-dong? We talking months or years?”

“Heifers,” I grunted, peeling my socks off with the kind of grim determination reserved for marathon runners and women trying to get out of Spanx.

“Not that long. And if you two are done talking about your men and their puny wangs, can we get down to business? The moon is rising, and we are one month from the summer solstice.”

“They do not have puny wangs!” Evie snarled—literally snarled—at me, her upper lip curling like a Wolf about to pounce.

I blinked.

Well.

That was a lot.

“You okay there, Cujo?” I asked, because apparently my mouth had no self-preservation instinct tonight.

Her eyes widened like she’d just realized she’d barked at me—almost literally—and she immediately softened.

“Um, sorry about the growling,” she muttered, her hand drifting to her stomach like she was checking herself for signs of lycanthropy.

I gave her a curious look but didn’t press. I was too busy shucking my clothes with the speed of a chubby girl who knew the night air wasn’t going to get any warmer.

And yeah, my cheeks were on fire.

Was it because of the frustratingly short yet toe-curling kiss I’d gotten from Conrad like seconds ago?

Was it embarrassment at having my best friends dissect my non-existent sex life in high-definition detail?

Or was it just the fact I’d sprinted across town on a motorcycle with a hot Snake Man like a Witch with her broom on fire?

Probably all three.

“Ease up, Evie. We’ve got work to do,” Donny said, her tone carrying that bossy-big-sister energy she liked to whip out whenever she thought one of us was about to spiral.

That was the thing about us—no matter how much we teased each other, we had each other’s backs.

I might want to occasionally strangle them both with a festive ribbon, but I wouldn’t trade either of them for the world.

“Sorry, really, guys. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Evie said softly, her eyes shadowed.

“That’s okay,” I said with a shrug and a grin to make sure she knew I meant it. “I didn’t mean to be almost late.”

That seemed to reset the mood.

We all shifted into work mode, the air thickening with the warm hum of our combined magic.

This wasn’t just a monthly ritual—it was our duty.

Our privilege.

Evie, our de facto leader, was a veritable Seer Witch.

She could catch glimpses of the future, though personally, I wasn’t convinced it was as much of a gift as she claimed.

If I knew a pie was going to burn before it did, sure, that would be useful—but seeing every tragedy on the horizon?