Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(42)

“I’m going to put Beatrice in your room,” Samantha said to Jeff, her fingers locked tight around the handle of the cat carrier.

Inside, Beatrice hissed at her new surroundings.

“I’ll be up in a second. Let me get Baptiste settled real quick.” He kissed her cheek tenderly, his fingers lightly gripping her waist. “I am glad you’re here.”

Samantha sighed. “I guess I am, too.”

The wide staircase wound up to the two floors above. It was a steep climb and she felt a little winded when she reached the third floor where Jeff’s room was located. She could have taken the small elevator that was off the dining room, but it freaked her out because of its size. It wasn’t much larger than a broom closet. At least Jeff’s room was quite large, consisting of a sitting area and actual bedroom with an attached bathroom.

Once inside the room, she shut the door, set the carrier on the floor and opened it. Beatrice glared at her, obviously not appreciating the change in location.

“This is our new home,” Samantha said, the words filling her with both dread and pleasure. She actually liked the room with its tall windows, large bed, and antique decor. But it wasn’t her room in her house.

Beatrice’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she didn’t move.

“C’mon, surly kitty. Come out.” Samantha bent at the waist to stare at her cat. “It’ll be fine. I think.”

The bedroom door opened and Samantha quickly straightened. Jeff slipped inside carrying her two overnight bags. She’d packed them on a lark soon after the events in the graveyard in Fenton. Her father had always taught her to be prepared. One was filled with clothes and toiletries for Samantha; the other was for Beatrice.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff said, seeing her expression. “I really am, Sam.”

She didn’t mean to cry, but tears sprang out before she could shut them down.

Dropping the bags on the floor, Jeff rushed to her, swept her up in his arms, and held her tenderly against his body. “Sam, I will do everything I can to protect you. I swear it.”

Samantha snuggled into his chest, her face pressed into the hollow of his throat. “I’m so sorry I’m intruding on your space.”

“Sam, you’re not!” Cupping her face, he smiled down at her. “I’m actually really happy you’re here. I’ve been wanting you to move in since this all started, but I knew you wouldn’t want to give up your place. That’s why I asked Aimee to ward your house.”

Samantha sniffled. “I’m not a big ol’ nuisance?”

“No! Not at all.” Jeff gave her an incredulous look. “C’mon, Sam, you know how I feel about you. I love you. Even if The Summoner wasn’t breathing down our necks, I’d still hope that you would end up living here with me one day.”

“Really?” She felt foolish for asking, but she needed to hear Jeff’s answer. Maybe she was still smarting a bit from Cian’s betrayal, or maybe she just wanted Jeff to remind her how much he loved her. Every time she looked at Jeff, her heart felt so full of love for him, she wanted to know he felt exactly the same way. She’d never felt so completely enamored with anyone before. Not even Cian. The feelings she had for Jeff felt like forever.

“Yes, really, Samantha. This isn’t a casual thing for me. I want us to be building a life together that will last.”

“Oh, Jeff! Me, too!”

Jeff’s kiss was sweet, yet searing. It was everything a kiss should be and she melted into it. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she returned the ardent touch of his lips. When they finally parted, they were both breathless.

“So the world is coming to an end,” Jeff started.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe. But it might.” Jeff stared into her eyes, his fingers gently caressing her flushed cheeks. “I want us to spend every moment we can together.”

“Because the world might end?”

“Because I love you,” Jeff answered.

A fresh burst of tears, this time happy ones, flooded her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed kisses to his neck. “I love you!”

There was a loud thump nearby.

Jeff and Samantha separated immediately, both tensing.

Beatrice stared at them from the center of the bed, then began to clean one paw.

They both burst into laughter.




Cassandra watched her girlfriend worriedly all the way to Jeff’s house. Aimee kept silent throughout the trip, but Cassandra could tell she was very upset. As soon as Jeff unlocked the front door of the Victorian house and let the group in, the witch immediately headed toward the pantry where the magic supplies were stored. Cassandra followed.

“Aimee?”

“The ward failed,” Aimee muttered. Grabbing her long hair, she twisted into a bun on top of her head, then placed her hands on her hips while glaring at the jars and bags lining the shelves.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassandra tried to formulate a good reply to Aimee’s comment, but couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound trite. The ward had failed. Epically. Aimee wasn’t used to failure, so Cassandra knew she was smarting. After a few tense beats ticked by, she decided to opt for another approach.

“Amaliya landed on the ward and it held her out. I wonder what that means?”