Page 31 of Claimed By Her Monsters

I show him the inside of my wrist and when I see it, the clover birthmark, tears come to my eyes. I trace the leaves with unsteady fingers.

Red. Black. Green. White.

Each leaf is a different color.

“We are complete,” I tell my mates.

Alister. Mick. Caspian.

“We are complete,” they echo back, with shaky smiles and love shining in their eyes. For me. For each other. Together, as one, we will stand against the darkness.

“What do we do now?” I bounce on the bed. “Go fight the Tall Hat Man, take over the world.” My gaze drops, shy as I whisper, “Have sex?”

Mick’s stomach rumbles then, and he claps a hand over it.

We all laugh.

“I’m hungry for you, my queen.” Mick ducks his head. “But also hungry for food. Maybe a midnight snack first?”

“Besides,” Alister bumps his shoulder into mine, “I still need to beat you at Monopoly.”

“You wish,” I counter, feeling more myself than I ever have before, and it occurs to me, I have it all: my memories, my power, my mates. Emily Dickinson once said, “Where thou art, that is home.” That’s what these men are to me. My home.

I hop up from the bed and taunt, “Your ass is mine, Alister. I’m going to own you in Monopoly.”

He laughs, sharp teeth glinting. “You already own me, little witch.”

“You own us all,” says Mick.

“Always,” adds Caspian.

The storm abates, rain easing into a gentle patter. The house exhales; floorboards settle and doors sigh shut. In the hearth, flames twine anddance in a slow waltz. Together, hand in hand, we head downstairs toward snacks, a board game, and a future we’ll face as one.

THE END

Sneak Peek from Book Two of the Clover Witch Series.

A just-for-fun teaser of what could come next for Madison and her men.

Alister trails a finger down my spine as we start down the stairs, spelling letter-by letter,L. O. V. E. Y. O. U.I laugh under my breath, so the mysteryYwasn’t yoga or yurt. It was part of a promise, momentarily forgotten but never lost.

We’ve reached the last step when the doorbell rings. I freeze, premonition tingling. For a minute I almost tell them to keep the door shut, that we don’t want to know what lies on the other side, but Mick is already there, swinging it open.

A hulking man stands at the doorstep with the full moon high behind him. In a thick Scottish accent, he says, “Mick. My brother. The pack needs its leader. We’ve been attacked.”

Mick goes rigid, every muscle strains. He lifts his nose and scents. “Blood of my kin has been spilled. I smell it on your clothes.”

The man falls to his knees, bows his head, and sobs, “Yes, my king. It is so.”

“We’ll hunt them down,” growls Mick, fury in every word. Then he softens, turns back to me. “But how can I leave you, Clover Witch? When I’ve just found you again?”

I move forward to stand beside him. “You won’t go alone. We’ll come with you.” I wave toward Alister and Caspian, already knowing they won’t part from me willingly.

The werewolf on the doorstep stares at me and trembles. He speaks in an awed whisper, “The Clover Witch has awakened. Please, my lady, come quickly.”

I incline my head like the queen I am, old habits slowly coming back to me. One last glance at the living room with the empty margarita glasses, the silver shoe token, and the fire that flickers a sad goodbye.

I turn to my mates, three men that match me, complement me in every way, and I tell them, “Come, my loves. It’s time to play a different game.”

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