Page 22 of Bewitched by the Werewolf (The Bewitching Hour #5)

I’ve received my fair share of injuries in my life; broken bones, black eyes, a few knife wounds, and none of them hurt as much as this damn arrow wound.

Most were healed within minutes or hours thanks to our advanced healing and fairy dust, but this wound lingers.

It stings and is tender to the touch. I’ve used fairy dust on it twice and it seems to be helping but not any faster than Neosporin on a stab wound.

It just won’t heal completely and I have no idea why.

I still have the black metal projectile that created the injury and there has to be something special about it that I can’t see. Something on it that’s causing this.

With my limited knowledge on the subject, I take it to the one person with a vast knowledge on many subjects.

Fynn is at home when I track him down. He has a massive collection of books containing mostly knowledge and history of non-humans.

As a mere, he likes to collect things. His preferred collection is information.

The unedited history of non-humans from non-human points of view, rather than the tainted mythologies humans have written about us.

If anyone will know why my wound isn’t healing, it will be him.

I knock on his door and thankfully he answers. He doesn’t always like guests, prefers to study and work in peace. Fynn opens the door and greets me in his human form with a polite nod. It would be difficult to open the door if he were in his true form with a tail.

“Sheriff Evans, how can I help you today?”

“Hi Fynn, I was hoping you could help me with an issue I’m having. A private issue,” I say in a quieter tone. I trust Fynn to be completely confidential. He is the literal opposite of Dottie when it comes to gossip. He likes his privacy and I respect that, so he respects mine.

“Of course, please come in.”

He waves me in and I enter. We step into his living room just off the entry to talk.

I know he has a massive library filled to the ceiling with books that takes up most of his home, but he retains a few general use rooms for the occasional guest. It’s decorated with a dark brown leather couch and armchair and matching wooden furniture.

Some might assume a mere would prefer nautical themes with blue and white stripes and seashells, and some of them do.

But they’re like everyone else and have their own personal preferences. Fynn’s is librarian professor.

Fynn gestures to the couch offering me a seat.

“No, thank you. I just need to know what could do this.” I unbutton my shirt and slip it over my shoulder to show him the partially healed wound on my upper chest between my clavicle and shoulder.

It’s red and tender but sealed and not bleeding.

“It won’t properly heal even with fairy dust, and I don’t know why. ”

“Interesting,” he says stepping closer and slipping on his glasses to get a better look. “When did this happen?”

“Saturday night.”

“And you shifted and applied dust to it immediately?”

“Yes. Twice.”

Fynn hums and gently brushes a finger over the pink scar tissue. “And what caused this?”

“I was shot—”

“Shot?!” he exclaims and reals back, eyes widening.

“With an arrow. Don’t worry there’s no threat to anyone but me, apparently.”

He nods and goes back to inspecting my wound. “Do you still have the arrow?”

“Yes.” I pull the eight-inch rod from my back pocket unwrapping the cloth around it and handing it to him. “I think there might have been something on it, but I don’t know what.”

Taking it, he holds it up to the light, spinning it in his fingers.

There’s still smears of blood on it since I didn’t want to clean it in case there is something on it.

Again, he hums in thought. I’ve learned Fynn does not like to be interrupted when reading, researching, inspecting or speaking.

It’s best to just be patient and quiet and wait for his conclusion.

It’s usually correct so it’s worth the patience.

Fynn sniffs the arrow and wrinkles his nose. “I suspect it’s wolfsbane. One of the myths the humans got right when it comes to shifters. For some reason it doesn’t agree with your blood. Seeps in like a poison to weaken you. Which can cause the slowed healing.”

“So, I’ll be fine?” I ask tentatively, hopefully. Because this pain in my shoulder is seriously annoying.

“Yes. It’ll heal, just slowly. Let the wolfsbane leave your system and you’ll heal up good as new.”

“There’s nothing I can do to speed it along?”

“Not if you’ve already used fairy dust. Sadly, this is just one of those things we can’t control.”

A bit like my inner beast. He’s not that easy to control either.

Fynn hands the arrow back to me and I rewrap it, shoving it in my back pocket. I do not need any more of that getting on me. I look back up to catch Fynn frowning at me.

“Is there something I should be aware of? Or someone I should be looking out for? A crossbow bolt covered in wolfsbane is not the average hunter’s tool. It’s specific.”

“There’s nothing to be concerned about. It was a one-time event that won’t happen again. A misunderstanding of sorts.”

Fynn studies me for a moment, contemplating my excuse.

I don’t know for sure that it is a one-time occurrence, but I’m sure as hell going to do my best to make sure it is.

Tess will not be shooting anyone else with a crossbow if I have anything to do with it.

As long as I keep eyes on her and make sure no one shifts around her trailer, including myself, it won’t happen again.

She’s literally becoming a pain in my ass, but that’s not going to stop me from protecting this town.

Even if she smells like the Garden of Eden’s forbidden fruit, I will not be tasting her.

~

The following day my shoulder still smarts but a little less than yesterday, which is a good thing.

If I need to contain any out of control or stray shifters on the eclipse, I would prefer to be at full strength when I do so.

As long as I steer clear of Tess’s crosshairs, I should be fine.

Staying out of her sights might be easy enough, but staying away from the female is more difficult.

Not only because I have to keep an eye on her at all times to ensure she doesn’t find any evidence of non-humans, but because I can’t seem to keep away.

My obsession with her is becoming bothersome.

I can’t focus on anything without thoughts of her invading and taking over completely.

Everything I read or situation I find myself in, I manage to redirect to thoughts of her.

Like eating breakfast at Morning Star , I end up wondering what her favorite breakfast food is and if she likes to be served it in bed.

How she likes her coffee, and if I know how to make that coffee.

My skills with a cappuccino machine are nonexistent.

The only coffee I know how to make is regular, brewed in a pot.

It’s intrusive thoughts like this that continuously increase my frustration with her continued presence in town.

If she would leave on her own, it would make things simpler.

Put me out of my misery. Though, I’m not sure how long it would take for my desire for her to wane.

It’s…disturbingly intense ever since I caught her true scent. It’s also maddeningly confusing.

This level of attraction and desire is what I would expect to feel in a mate pull, but once again I have to remind myself she is a human.

Humans cannot be mates to shifters. It’s impossible.

We can mate with half-breeds, but a mate bond has never been formed, or been known to form, with a person who wasn’t at least half non-human.

Not for the first time, I consider giving into my need and sate my desires with Tess. I may not have relationships with humans but that doesn’t mean I can’t have sex with one. Maybe then I’ll realize she’s just another human and I’m just abnormally horny because of the blood moon.

I sit in my brother’s office for our weekly meeting and all I can think about is Tess loose in town doing who knows what, speaking to god knows who, poking around searching for evidence of werewolves.

That, and I want to inhale her scent again.

That crisp spicy apple scent that elicits inappropriate thoughts.

Rolling my still aching shoulder, my knee bounces uncharacteristically as I sit impatiently waiting for Hunter to get this meeting over with so I can go find Tess.

This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.

“Everything okay, Ryder?” Hunter asks, drawing my attention away from thoughts of Tess.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You seem on edge more than usual. Something wrong with your shoulder?”

I roll my injured shoulder again trying to act like it doesn’t hurt every time I lift my arm above my head. “Hurt it on a run over the weekend. It’s nothing. Already healing. Don’t worry about it,” I try to reassure my brother.

Hunter eyes me suspiciously, no doubt scenting my agitation. “Seems like more than that is bothering you. Anything I should know about? Maybe that girl you mentioned before? The one snooping about.”

Damn it . I was hoping he was too preoccupied with Lottie and Vincent to worry about Tess.

I should have known he’d eventually ask about her.

He’s a good alpha and brother, concerned with the safety of his pack and family.

I growl in frustration thinking of Tess and everything about her that’s bothering me.

“I’m handling her. She’s more of a nuisance than I thought she would be, but nothing I can’t manage.”

“Who is she anyway? Why is she here? No one else seems to be talking about her, which is concerning with how gossip works in this town.”