Page 98 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“Meaning what?” I asked as Caine lifted up the edge of his lip in a growl. Lulu’s eyes snapped to his, and I put a hand on his knee to soothe him. Just like the last time we were here. “You have a daughter. Surely you’ve had a lover before?”
“I’ve had hundreds,” Lulu said, entirely unashamed. Not that she should be. But like, why was her sleeping around totally fine and normal, but I was weird for wanting four husbands? To each their own. “As did Hex.”
I cringed at that and gritted my teeth.
Right.
Thanks for the reminder of his man-whoring ways.
“Whatever Hex did in the past is irrelevant,” I said, pausing as I realized that Caine had already made my plate and handed it over to me. I took it with a silent smile and cleared my throat, acting as if I weren’t pleased by that. You know, for dignity’s sake. “I suppose the fact that he won’t feel trapped is a bonus. He tried the wild dating world and landed softly in the Family Spells.”
I poked at the cranberry sauce with my spoon (and it poked back) as Hex turned a look on his grandmother.
“Don’t provoke Graceley,” he warned as she turned toward him again. “You’ve already done enough.” Hex slapped his palm on the cover of the book, and the eyeball closed tightly as if cringing. “I’ll consider this album the first part of your apology.”
“Don’t contact your mother, Hex. I won’t stop you, but you’ll regret it if you do.” Lulu ignored him and set about digging into her food.
“As for the next part of your very long ‘I’m sorry’ process, I’d like to pack my apartment up.”
Lulu went very, very still, her gaze on her food, her familiar wrapped around her neck. The house shifted and creaked in distress.
“You’re packing?” she clarified, and Hex sighed.
“I’m moving out.” Hex didn’t clarify, but he didn’t have to. Lulu Sorciere knew exactly where Hex was moving to.
“I can only protect you for so long,” she continued, lifting her gaze back to Monster. He smiled at her, sitting there in his designer clothes—how he’d obtained them, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know—with an empty plate before him. He wasn’t eating either. “Violet’s family isn’t going to wait on the sidelines. You understand that, right?”
“Are you going to let me pack my stuff or not?” Hex whispered again, focused on his food and not his grandmother. She sighed and used magic to pick up a brandy bottle, unscrew the cap, and dump a good portion of it into her eggnog.
“Could I stop you?” she queried, and I felt like there was something unspoken there.
“Only if you summoned me,” Hex added with a wry smile, and then he was shoving up from his seat and storming off in the direction of the kitchen. After a split-second, I pushed back my own chair and took off after him.
He hesitated briefly at the back door before opening it and continuing outside, under a trellis covered in blooming wisteria. Out of season, no doubt, but witch gardens were always in bloom.
Hex opened another door, led me through what appeared to be a large spell chamber, and up a spiral staircase to his apartment.
As soon as he opened the door, that cinnamon and sandalwood smell of his overwhelmed me. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the apartment was in relatively good order with plush leather sofas, decorative throw pillows, and, when I peeked inside one of the cabinets, fully stocked with spellcasting supplies.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said with a bit of a sharp grin. “Grandma took care of the shopping.” He pointed at the cupboard before retreating down the hall to a bedroom. There were some clothes on the floor, and the bed was unmade, but otherwise, not too bad.
“She clean for you, too?” I asked, just before the clothes began to magically lift themselves from the floor. With a flick of his finger, Hex sent them into a hamper at the same time a broom lifted from the corner and began to sweep the floor. “Or not.”
I stared at his bed as he retrieved some duffel bags from the closet and began to fill them with clothes from his dresser. When he caught me looking, he paused and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said, inclining his head at me. I met his eyes and wet my lips.
“How many girls have you brought back here?” I asked him, and he lifted both brows, glancing toward the messy sheets before looking back at me.
“You think Lulu would allow me to bring women here?” He shook his head and laughed, reaching up to rub a hand over his jaw. “None. Never in a million years would she have allowed that. I was more of a … hotel sort of a guy.”
