Page 79 of Hungry As Her Python

I sat at her kitchen table, but my gaze followed her every move—how her ponytail swung when she poured the coffee, the way she bit her lip when she set my mug down like we were on opposite ends of some negotiation.

She sat across from me.

“So, I hear Petyr gave you his blessing to, um, court me.”

A chuckle rumbled from my chest.

“Yeah. Nearly broke my nose in the process, but I took it as a win.”

Her mouth twitched.

Half a smile, half a warning.

“You know I’ve been trying to come to a decision about us, and I know it’s been taking a while.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, voice low enough that it was just for her.

“You take all the time you need, Sugar. But here’s something you can’t decide and it’s this, Bella, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what if?—”

“No what ifs, Sugar. But how about we start small, okay? So, let’s just say I’m not going anywhere until whoever’s been targeting your bakery is caught. Not until you know, without a doubt, that I’ve got you. And not until you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me.”

Her breath hitched. She didn’t look away.

Didn’t tell me to leave again, and damn, I was glad for that.

The Python in me surged, the need to claim her coiling tight in my gut.

But she was human enough to be wary, Witch enough to fight me on instinct.

So I held the line. For now.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why me?”

That broke something open in my chest.

“Because I’ve been walking this earth a long damn time, Sugar. And no one—no one—has ever felt like home until you. You don’t change for me. You don’t shrink yourself. You burn brighter. And I’d fight every bastard in Castor’s Corner and beyond to keep it that way.”

Her fingers toyed with the handle of her mug, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

I knew then—pressure or not, arson or not—she wanted me here.

Which was perfect.

Because I wasn’t about to let her handle any of this alone.

I pulled a folder from my jacket and slid it across the table.

“Security cam stills. I’ve been tracking patterns—times, nights, even wind direction. Whoever’s behind this isn’t random. They’ve been watching you.”

Her brows drew together. “You’ve been keeping records?”

“Every move they’ve made,” I said. “And every move you’ve made since the night we met.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to scold me, but the flush on her throat told me she wasn’t exactly put off by the idea.

“I protect what’s mine, Bella,” I told her simply. “And you are mine. Whether you admit it yet or not.”