Page 74 of Hungry As Her Python

“No! My Witch cries. The Snake dies!”

Then—zap! A jolt of magic zipped through the air leaving the three of us sneezing for thirty seconds after.

“Bella, you need to call him back—achoo!” Evie sneezed.

“What?” I sniffled, sitting up.

Too late—Petyr was gone.

“Uh-oh,” Donny murmured, swiping under her eyes with her sleeve. “I better tell Ryan to let Conrad know.”

“Don’t let that Snake know anything!” I barked, but my voice cracked halfway through.

“Honey,” Donny said, fixing me with her listen to Auntie Donny face, “your Domovyk is about to try and cut his ball sack off. Now, I know you’re mad at him but trust me—you want that ball sack right where it is.”

I gaped, then slumped.

“You’re right. Call him.”

“Honey?” Evie said, giving me that cautious tone people use when approaching a feral cat. “Can you tell us what just happened? We thought maybe it was a rocky start, but why are you fighting with your mate?”

“Will everyone please stop saying that? He is not my mate!”

The two of them exchanged a look—eyebrows up, lips pursed—and then the heifers started laughing.

“What is so funny?” I demanded, heat rushing up my neck.

“You,” Donny gasped between cackles. “You keep saying ‘he’s not my mate’ but it’s written all over your face, Hells Bells. You’ve got it bad.”

“She’s glowing,” Evie added helpfully. “Like, legit magical glow. You look like a lightning bug in love.”

“I do not glow!” I said, horrified.

“Uh-huh,” they chorused, smirking. “Sure you don’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Two-Bella

At The Tasty Tart

“Oh, honey, of course he is your mate.”

Donny snorted.

Evie rolled her eyes like I’d just told her water wasn’t wet.

And Petyr, he growled from over in the corner.

“That very first night, I saw the two of you together and I know you felt it too. Hell, me, and Jaxson did too. I was just fighting it. But I thought you were smarter than me, Bella,” Evie said, patting me with the hand that was thankfully not covered in her special donut filling.

“You, wait, you think I’m smarter than you?” I blinked at her, floored.

Look—I’m blonde.

I can bake like a goddess, and I can charm a soufflé into rising with my voice alone.

But book smart like Evie? Not exactly my lane.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mouth-breather dumb, and Donny is quick as a whip.