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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“I’m more of a beast than you think.”

Allen’s words reverberated in her mind as Lilac stared down at the unconscious naked man lying in the wolf-shaped crater in the snow. Steam lifted from his tan skin and swirled away in the wind. His golden hair was almost the same color as his wolf’s fur.

“You’re mine, Lilac.” By the Green Mother, that should’ve been admission enough. Lilac had read her fair share of romantasy, thanks to Edith, lived with both feet in the paranormal world as a witch, and still she’d been blind to all the hints. The signs, they’d all be there—his uncanny reflexes, his speed, his accelerated healing, the fact that she’d known he was hiding something about his past—she just hadn’t been looking for them. Hadn’t thought a shifter would be stupid enough to show his face in the one place forbidden him: Annesley Valley, the ancestral home of the Hawthornes.

What was he doing here?

Lilac threw the thought away. It wasn’t important now. He had taken a strike from a witch duel for her. Had shifted—signed his own death warrant—to protect her .

Voices on the wind, Boar and Rose’s, spurred her into action. She called upon the dregs of her magic and faced the practitioner and the hedge witch.

Prue Stonewell was unconscious. Completely knocked out, her lips already losing their color from the cold of the storm. Talia, on the other hand . . .

The practitioner’s brown eyes were as round as jasper cabochons, her hands covering her mouth to shield her gasp. “H-he’s a shifter? What kind of wolf was that ?”

Lilac sprang over Allen’s body and seized the young woman by her upper arms. “You’ll say nothing, Talia. Swear it .” She had never called magic to anywhere but her hands before—that was only something the strongest of the Hawthornes could do—but in this moment, she saw the green light of her power in her eyes reflecting in Talia’s fearful ones.

“I swear,” the practitioner cried.

“On your life,” Lilac hissed.

“Yes. Yes, of course!” Talia pulled away, terrified.

Lilac let her go, immediately turning back to the wolf shifter. The caretaker. Allen . His skin had lost its flush, the heat of his wolf having faded away, but he showed no signs of rousing. He’d freeze out here. Frantically, she searched around in the dim afternoon light for his clothes.

He shredded them when he shifted, remember?

Oh, right. By the Green Mother, her thoughts were a mess. She was trembling too, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

Distantly, she heard someone hail her, but her attention was on something fluttering in the snow like a trapped moth. A photograph?

Lilac pinched the edge and drew it slowly out of the snow so it wouldn’t tear. Her heart, which had been risen into her throat to strangle her with panic, deflated like over-proofed bread dough, sinking into her stomach .

The photograph was of her . And it wasn’t recent. How did Allen Sharpe, who had never been to Annesley Valley before two weeks ago, have a picture of her dated from three years ago?

“Lilac!” Boar shouted.

She stuffed the photograph into her pocket and whirled to face her brother.

Rose was leaving Talia to check on Prue, and Boar was already shrugging out of his jacket, a stunned look on his face as he regarded Allen’s unconscious naked body. “What happened? Why is he naked?”

“He got hit with an incendiary spell,” she lied easily. Too easily.

She should’ve outed him as the shifter he was as any good Hawthorne would do, but Grandmother had taught her not to be rash. That same lesson was now undermining the matriarch’s rules, and the irony wasn’t lost on her. Lilac had fallen, hard , for the shifter. And while her heart burned with betrayal and loss and why did he have her picture , she couldn’t give him up. Couldn’t forget the way he had made her feel, how he had seen through the beautiful weapon her grandmother had crafted her into and to the true woman beneath.

Lilac wouldn’t abandon him. Not until he explained himself.

“An incendiary spell?” Boar asked, incredulous. “He should be missing more than his clothes. Like, his skin.”

“By all means, Boar, please tell me what happened when you weren’t here to witness it yourself.”

“Lilac, that’s not what I—”

“Prue attacked me,” Talia wailed, jerking Boar’s attention from his sister. “Mistress Lilac tried to stop her, a-and Allen sacrificed himself—Oh, Mab, is he alright?”

“He needs to get out of this snow,” Boar muttered, wrapping the unconscious man in his jacket. Then, to Talia: “Why did Prue attack you? ”

“Why do you think?” Lilac demanded. “She confronted her about the ill-wishes! Talia was defending us .”

“She’s still alive,” Rose said, drawing her fingers from where they’d pressed into Prue’s wrinkled neck. “Whatever spell she cast must’ve backfired and knocked her out.”

“Rose, Lilac, you get Prue up. She’s coming with us.” Boar hefted Allen into his arms and staggered once in the snow to get his balance. The shifter wasn’t as burly as the witch was, but he was still thick with muscle. “Talia, get yourself home. We’ll be in touch.”

Talia nodded so profusely Lilac thought her head would wobble off her shoulders.

“ Now ,” Boar prompted.

With a squeak like a terrified rabbit, Talia turned towards the village and bounded off.

“You could’ve thanked her,” Rose snapped, wrangling one of Prue’s arms across her shoulder. “Lilac, get over here. She’s not exactly light.”

Lilac helped her sister lift the hedge witch, marveling how the pointy witch hat remained on Prue’s head even as it lolled against her chest. With one trudging step after another, the two sisters dragged the hedge witch back up the hill and into the Hall.

The decorations that hadn’t transformed into murderous evergreen vipers seemed to have lost all their sparkle and cheer. The ornaments seemed dull, the bows sad, and the fire in the massive hearth popped and sizzled gloomily. It was as if the entire Hall was depressed that its caretaker had returned in such a sorry state. Maybe it truly was.

Grunting, Boar set Allen down on the cold hardwood floor, but only for a moment. He extracted a seed from the vial in his pocket, and as a sapling grew, Boar shot a pillar of green magic at the cluster of garlands that had tried to strangle him. Every bough, needle, and cone was swept up and launched into the hearth. The flames burst with light and heat as they devoured every last trace, perfuming the air with pine and spruce.

In the meantime, the sapling had grown, its branches enveloping the unconscious caretaker. Lilac watched in wonder as the tree grew and stretched, arcing over the second-floor balcony towards Allen’s room. The door opened of its own accord, or perhaps from the will of the Hall, and the poplar tree disappeared inside, presumably to lay Allen on his bed.

Boar turned back to his sisters. “Rose, you go and look after him—”

“I’ll go.” Lilac slid out from under Prue’s arm. Her brother lurched forward, catching Lilac’s half of the hedge witch before Rose could buckle under the cumbersome weight.

“But you don’t even like him,” Rose protested. “That’ll be a great way to wake up, staring right into the eyes of someone who loathes you. Joy!”

“He saved me,” Lilac gritted out. “I’m staying with him, and that’s that.”

“What were you doing out there, anyway?”

“I’ll admit I was surprised to find you gone and not with us,” Boar grumbled.

Lilac blinked, registering the hurt tone in her brother’s voice. She refused to be sorry, especially after he had embarrassed and demeaned her ever since leaving the manor. “He made sure you were in good hands before running off after the person who attacked us. Him, a human ,” she made sure to enunciate, “going after the likes of a hedge witch like Prue Stonewell. I wasn’t going to let him do that by himself.”

“That was very brave of you,” her brother said seriously. “We all know you get jittery in a fight, and still you ran off to help someone you don’t even like.”

“He’s our caretaker,” she mumbled .

“And now it’s our turn to take care of him.” Boar nodded. “Go. I’ll put Prue in the holding cell until she wakes up. Rose, you’re on tea duty. We all need something hot after this.”

“Forget the tea.” Rose snorted. “I’m making hot toddies à la Rose with lots of orange, honey, and enough cognac to knock out a moose.”

As her siblings diverted to their tasks, Lilac climbed the stairs at a sedate and measured pace until she could no longer hear them. Then, she lifted her skirts to her knees and pounded up the remaining steps and fled down the hall to Allen’s room. The poplar tree had set him down in the center of his bed and drawn the bed sheets and comforter up to his chin.

Trembling, Lilac approached and gently swept her fingers through his hair. It was surprisingly dry, his scalp warm.

Shifter heat .

The romantasy books of the mundane world always said they ran a bit hotter, and so much of their lore had already been correct.

The contrast of his heat and her cool fingertips sent a shiver down her spine. By the Green Mother, she was freezing . Her wet dress clung to every inch of her, not to mention her wet hair. She must look like a banshee post scream-fest or a selkie fresh from the ocean. In short, an absolute wreck.

Lilac glanced over her shoulder, chewing down on her bottom lip in thought. Her room was directly across from his, separated by two balcony railings and a vast amount of air, but it seemed impossibly far. He could wake at any moment, and she needed every second alone with him that she could get. She had to know his heart before the others found out what he was.

With a huff, she crossed over to his wardrobe and yanked out a navy-blue sweater and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Then she hustled to his adjoining bathroom.

The man was impeccably neat and sparse with his hygiene products. There was nothing superfluous, except for his small bottle of cologne, and everything was positioned in such a way for optimal use. Lilac made sure to put everything back just as she’d found it, a more challenging task than she originally thought since her brain couldn’t seem to function right after smelling his cologne. Smelling him , and reliving every memory they’d made in the attic in rapid-fire succession.

But the familiar feel of the cologne bottle, so much like the ones she used for her potions, brought her world into a sharper focus. Trembling again, she set the bottle aside. She had come to Hawthorne Hall for her future as a potions master, though fate or destiny had deigned to throw a green spark and Allen Sharpe into the mix.

‘Two paths can become one, though the road narrows. For the strong of heart, the love outweighs all sorrow.’

By the Green Mother, she was feeling sorrow right now. Was it worth it?

Strangely, it was Grandmother’s teachings that gave her solace. The composure to swallow her grief, exit the bathroom, and perch herself on a chair she dragged beside Allen’s bed. She would listen to his explanation, then she would decide.