Page 6 of Bewitched by the Werewolf (The Bewitching Hour #5)

Hunter and I may live in the same house but we rarely spend our off time together.

I think it’s because we spend so much of our work time together.

We like our space, or I should say I like my space.

As such, I haven’t had a chance to ask him about the lights in the cabin last night.

He’s an early to rise kind of person and by the time I was up and having breakfast when normal people do, he was already long gone.

I’ll just have to bring it up later when we have our weekly meeting where we go over whatever needs going over.

Since nothing major rarely happens in Snowberry, a once-a-week meeting is all we usually need.

The entire day I’m walking around with a prickle up my spine and no explanation as to what it is. Shifters have a sixth sense for things like this. I can tell there’s something, it’s not bad, it’s not good. But I have a feeling it’s going to change things around here.

Everywhere I go I’m on high alert, checking faces, distinguishing scents, looking for anything out of the ordinary beyond Roman the elf staying at the motel.

I catch a whiff of mint again at Dottie’s but can’t place it.

It’s a faint lingering scent, it’s pleasant but unappealing.

Dottie was uncharacteristically unhelpful during lunch.

Not in the sense that she didn’t talk, I think it would be a cold day in hell when Dottie stops talking.

She just talked about nonsense, pointless things.

Non-stop. I couldn’t get a word in edge wise.

From the moment she walked up to me to the moment she left I never spoke.

It’s like she was trying to fill the space so I couldn’t speak.

She was animated and excited about something but not the drivel she was droning on and on about.

I wonder if it has something to do with my sense of unease and trepidation? Sooner or later I’m going to figure out what I’m sensing. It’ll drive me crazy until I do, and as sheriff it is my job to pursue anything that could affect the non-humans I protect in Snowberry.

I walk a circle around the main part of town to get a sense of the mood.

There are no sour scents or agitating sounds.

Everything appears normal, but appearances can be deceiving.

I walk back to city hall where both the sheriff and mayor’s offices reside, mine to the right and Hunter’s to the left.

I don’t bother checking in at my office and head straight to Hunter’s first. Donna, his assistant and Dottie’s partner in gossiping crime—an unpunishable crime unfortunately—greets me as I enter.

“Afternoon Sheriff Evans.”

“Afternoon Donna. How are things?”

“Besides the troublesome elf, everything is as it should be two weeks prior to a blood moon.”

Which means there’s excitement and chatter, as well as early birds arriving for the eclipse.

Some shifters like to make a trip out of it.

Being able to stay in a town primarily consisting of non-human residents with hundreds of uninhabited acres for running, is extremely appealing.

Especially to older shifters who have nothing but time on their hands and young spry shifters who are too energetic and unruly to shift in highly populated human cities.

The population will slowly increase leading up to the blood moon two weeks from today, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.

Donna brushes a strand of light brown hair behind her ear and puts on her flirting face.

She’s a mere and at least a hundred years older than me possibly more but doesn’t look any older than late forties maybe fifty, but like a spry fifty.

Mere’s live longer than shifters so in our strange way of aging we look similar in age.

Me a fifty-five-year-old shifter who looks thirty and her a nearly two-hundred-year-old mere who appears in her forties.

I don’t really know her specific age since she won’t tell me how old she really is.

Doesn’t stop her from flirting with me every time I come to see my brother.

Like shifters, mere’s have a human form they can shift into. Currently, Donna is in her human form appearing like any other human. Any non-human looking at her wouldn’t know by appearance alone she’s a mere. They would have to scent her or read her aura to confirm her species while in this form.

She’s attractive enough, but her scent doesn’t call to me.

Not like a mate’s scent would. I’m no monk but I don’t see the point in starting a relationship with a female who isn’t my mate.

Shifters are one of the few non-human species who have true mates.

A partner made just for them, their other half.

Their scent the most enticing and delicious thing a shifter will ever smell, enough to make them crazy with lust, protectiveness and possessiveness.

Our mates are ours and no one else's. Once a mate bond is formed, it never breaks until death. We are shown our mates, we don’t choose them like other species do.

A male would be crazy to deny a mate once found.

It’s been done, but very rarely. I personally would never ignore my mate once I found her.

I give Donna my best attempt at a smile which isn’t much. She knows I’m not interested yet that doesn’t stop her from trying. Mere’s don’t have mates, they’re more of a group or pod when it comes to partners and generating offspring. I don’t share.

“Is my brother in his office?” I ask, trying to move this along.

“Yes, he’s waiting for you. Go right on in. I’ll be here when you’re finished.” She winks at me, and I just shake my head in amusement. It’s the same thing every time. I don’t mind though, it’s all in good fun.

Striding past her desk I pass my brother’s second assistant Levi’s desk as well.

Why the mayor needs two assistants, I have no idea.

One is more than enough for me. As a matter of fact, I would prefer to have none, but Edith is responsible for handling the phone lines and that’s something I definitely don’t want to deal with.

I don’t knock before I enter, he knows I’m coming.

My brother’s office is large and filled with fancy furniture, far more impressive than mine.

I guess who ever designed the offices figured the sheriff wouldn’t be spending as much time behind his desk as the mayor.

As he, or she, shouldn’t. A sheriff should be out patrolling and with the people most of their time.

I may be a man of few words but I’m good at my job.

“Hey Ryder, give me a minute. I’m almost done.”

Hunter sits behind his massive wooden desk and I take up a seat across from him, my back straight and feet firmly planted on the ground in case I need to move quickly.

With that unknown sensation still tickling at my mind I can’t be too prepared.

I sit patiently waiting for Hunter to finish whatever it is he’s doing on the papers in front of him.

I have no desire to deal with paperwork and don’t bother asking what he’s working on.

He finally looks up at me and pushes the papers to the side. “There is way too much paperwork involved in this job.”

I nod in agreement. There’s probably more excess paper in our jobs since we like to keep everything off the computers and internet. One more way to keep our town hidden and off the grid. Rule number one when living off the grid is; do not leave a digital footprint.

“Good thing you have two assistants to help with all that paperwork.”

Hunter glares at me and a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Did you just make a joke?”

“Joke, blatant observation. Same thing.”

Hunter chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at me.

His ink black hair perfectly styled and coifed, barely shifts out of place.

We’re similar in height and hair color but practically nothing else.

I take far less time to maintain my hair, trimming it when needed but otherwise ignoring it.

Where my brother is personable and chatty always smiling and friendly, I’m a little rougher around the edges.

I lack the grace and fluidity of conversing he easily possesses.

Fluffy words, long drawn-out explanations, and reading between the lines is pointless.

Say what you mean, get to the point. Be precise and clear. That’s my motto.

“Have you spoken to Ginger today? Or yesterday?” he asks. Not sure what our little sister has to do with anything, other than her possibly finding traces of us on the internet somewhere.

“No. Why?” I reply. I did actually see her last night but we didn’t exactly “talk.” Words were exchanged in passing but nothing more.

“Something is going on with her and I can’t figure out what it is.”

Hunter leans forward and steeples his fingers together in concentration as he does on many occasions.

I think he believes it makes him look more professional or commanding perhaps.

Taking on the role of alpha and mayor at only twenty-five can be a daunting task for anyone.

I think he’s managed it skillfully, far better at it than I would ever have been.

Sometimes I get the impression he still doesn’t believe me when I say I don’t mind that my younger brother became alpha over me.

It was never meant to be me and we both know it.

I think he still requires a little convincing every now and again.

“Did you ask her?” I inquire, because to me that would be the quickest way to find out.

“Of course I did. She said it was nothing. Which, in female speak, usually means it’s something. But I can’t prove it.”

“I could ask her if you like.”

I’m not the best at brotherly talks and emotions, but sometimes when I ask, she’s more willing to answer than beat around the bush. With Hunter, she can talk him in circles with her slyness. I don’t put up with that or understand half of it so it loses the appeal.