“These are the best pecan waffles I’ve ever had,” I said with a moan of pleasure.
Dylan’s hand edged across the table, and I held my fork in a threatening manner. “Don’t even think about touching my bacon or I will stab you,” I warned, only half-joking.
He gave me an innocent look of surprise. “Maybe I was planning to hold your hand.”
“Ha! I saw you eying my bacon, so don’t bother denying it.”
“You aren’t eating it,” he argued. “It would be a shame to let good bacon go to waste.”
“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you, but no one steals my bacon, got it?” I said, waving my fork in the air to bring my threat home.
Dylan laughed. “Fine, be selfish with the bacon.”
“You had your own bacon, so you don’t need mine.”
“I had no idea you got so violent about bacon.” He grinned.
“Her familiar is a pig, and he makes her feel guilty when she eats any pork,” Dylan explained.
“Trevor never told me about that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a witch with a pig as a familiar before,” I mused, and it was true. There were some pretty unusual familiars, but most had cats or owls because they were more traditional.
“Doesn’t Melina have a turkey vulture?” he asked.
“California condor,” I corrected.
“Even scarier looking,” he said.
“Mel’s not like other witches,” I explained. “Her mixed heritage isn’t the only thing different about her.”
“How come you don’t have a familiar?” Dylan asked as if it hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that I didn’t have one. “A familiar would increase your power.”
“Not everyone has a familiar.” That was true enough. For whatever reason, warlocks couldn’t bond with a familiar. I actually didn’t know of any other female witches without familiars, but there had to be others.
Dylan raised an eyebrow because he probably didn’t know any female witches without familiars. Even witches who weren’t in good standing had familiars.
“Obviously, my mom couldn’t have gotten a familiar for me because she’s not a witch.”
“And your father can’t because only the women of our kind can select familiars,” Dylan said, as if he’d suddenly figured it all out. “Your father should have asked one of his female relatives to take care of it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I said, and it wasn’t really. “Maybe I’ll get a cat one day and pretend he’s my familiar.”
When Dylan looked like he was about to say something sweet, I interrupted him. “Is this just a plot to make me too sad to eat my bacon?”
Dylan looked like he was going to ignore my attempt to change the subject, but thankfully, he gave me a lopsided grin. “Is it working?” he asked, walking his fingers across the table toward my bacon.
I lifted my fork and eyed him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Dylan laughed. “Why did I have to pick such a cruel witch?”