Page 6 of The Arcane Taste of the Witchwood Boys (The Witchwood Boys #4)

Tanner

I don’t give a shit about the Witchwoods or the human world or anything but Kate. Keeping her with me is the only priority I have. The entire universe could split in half, and I wouldn’t let myself lose focus.

I only care about what Kate is doing.

She hits Brooks with a sleeping spell first, Marlowe second. If I can keep her here for a few minutes, they’ll wake up. Coven magic isn’t particularly effective on its own members without consent.

I shove my iron mask up and over my mouth and nose before the powder hits, lifting my other arm to block it as I squeeze my eyes shut. I use my magic to cleanse the air, wait a few seconds, and then carefully crack my gaze. Kate seems unsure, like she doesn’t know if the charm will work.

We just look at each other.

I drag the mask down slowly and flash her a feral smile in warning.

“I don’t care if you threaten to bite my dick off. I can’t let you go, Kate.” I take a step toward her and she takes one back. She was able to pull away from me and Brooks before, so I know she’s now physically capable of kicking my ass. But she’s inexperienced. Skill should still stack the odds in my favor.

“Can you imagine it? Me eating your spirits? All three of you trapped inside of me?” Kate continues to back up, tears falling freely as she finally lets her emotions out.

She’s completely broken. Completely and utterly broken.

She sweeps her wings forward, like she’s hugging herself in feathers.

I shift forward and slide my foot onto her wingtip, leaning my weight forward and pinning her in place without her noticing.

“We will be trapped inside of you—just not like that. Come here.” I mean business.

“Damn it, Tanner! This isn’t the win you think it is!”

“Oh?” I raise my pierced brow, panting in anticipation of the hunt. Kate is the most important quarry I’ve ever tracked. “When you run, it only makes it more exciting to catch you.”

She spins suddenly, knocking me off-balance as she drags her wing out from beneath my foot. Feathers tear, and Kate cries out as she leaves them behind in her haste to get away, scrambling up the staircase.

I tackle her from behind, knowing that I might hurt her but understanding that a skinned knee or bruised palms is better than the alternative. Kate is the Hag Wytch? What the fuck does that mean? I’m struggling to understand what’s going on even as I’m also struggling to hold her in place.

She howls at me, like a wild animal, pure outrage and frustration.

Kate heaves up to her hands and knees, shocking the hell out of me when she manages to force me up with her. Yep. Forest god strength. I love being right. Goddamn it.

“Get off of me!” Kate screams, her voice echoing around the cottage. Her shout mixes with the sound of something big eating just outside our front door. Not a great sign. We struggle together, slipping in the blood that coats the floor.

I’m less careful about kicking Brooks or Marlowe in the scuffle than she is; they’ll live. My wife is such a sweet, gentle soul that she pays too much attention to whether she’s hurting them or not. I’ll take an advantage where I can get it.

“You stubborn beast of a man!” she shrieks, stumbling backwards and away from the staircase.

Our eyes meet again, dead bees and crushed skulls and powdered flowers under our boots.

“I ask for one thing, and you won’t give it to me?” I retort, trying to keep her still long enough to figure out a plan. With my coven all around me, with this sacrificial blood on the floor, what can’t I do? “ Stop running. ”

I swing my finger around and bring several of the taxidermied animals on the wall to life. Crows and owls (poor choice, maybe) and cats and bats. They come at her in a cloud of feathers and fur that she swats away with her powerful wings, like they’re an annoyance and nothing more. Inanimate bodies clatter to the floor.

Gives me the few seconds I need to run at her.

Kate is ready, grabbing me by the arms and chucking me as hard as she can into the wall. Ahhh, fuck. I’m momentarily stunned by the hit, the breath knocked out of me. No broken bones, but I’ll be bruised later for sure.

Damn.

Yep, my kitten has claws.

“I love you, and I’m sorry,” she whispers, backing up toward the staircase again. Tears stream down her face and drip off her beautiful chin as I struggle to find my feet. “I love you so much, Tanner. I love you enough to make hard choices.”

Kate turns and pounds up the stairs, leaving bloody boot prints on the steps.

I’m right behind her, chasing her through the darkness of the Witchwoods while the forest spirits peer down at us from the branches.

“ Oh, look at the East hunt! Look at the North run!”

We pass by the ruined Witch’s Tree and Kate snatches one of the brooms we left behind. She leaps onto it and takes off, her horned shadow dragging her up through the trees.

I grab another, letting my split-tailed demon shadow haul me into the dark canopy. I’m hot on her trail. I can hear the beat of her heart. I can smell her.

She isn’t going anywhere.

If it’s a chase Kate wants, then I’ll make sure to give it to her.

My renegade North abandons her broom near the street.

I can see the sidewalk now, rolling and cracking over the roots of giant sequoias. Witchwoods plants and animals litter the neighborhood, occupying roads and porches and roofs. The storybook Victorian houses across from the park have trees as big or bigger than them inside their yards, the thick canopy overhead blocking much of the creeping fog-dipped daylight.

For whatever reason, Kate continues to flee on foot. I gain on her quick, closing the space between us with long strides. She turns toward me suddenly, putting her boot in the center of my chest and kicking me into a white picket fence, turning it to splinters.

I rub my jaw as I climb to my feet, impressed with her tenacity. Didn’t think she had it in her.

Spirit orbs float above us, colorful and bright and joyous. One of them lands on the sidewalk nearby, morphing into the white shape of a ghost with no eyes. I can feel her watching us.

“You can’t kill a forest god, Tanner,” Kate declares, throwing her wings forward and sending me sprawling again. I’m up in a second, and then I’m on her, putting her on her back.

We lock our hands in a grapple, and I growl as I shove her wrists into the soft earth. A woman wearing a headlamp and walking a dog is screaming beside us. Can’t blame her. There’s a flash-toad about a half-block away. The lady has the common sense to run and take her puppy with her.

All around us, the worlds twist together like brambles. The veil drops. And still, none of that matters.

Kate is yelling at me, but with as hard as I’m having to fight to keep her down, I can’t pay much attention to what she’s saying. My only focus is holding her here long enough for Brooks and Marlowe to catch up.

Sweat drips from my nose and hits Kate’s dewy forehead. Her teeth are gritted, her pupils dilated from the adrenaline rush. Her eyes though? They’re slitted and glaring, piercing holes right through me.

It’s vaguely sexual, this fight, our half-naked bodies rubbing together. Tendons and muscles and veins and groans. We’re pressed as tight as we can get, and I bring us closer by biting onto her shoulder.

That almost does it. I feel Kate soften underneath me. She spreads her legs, grinds her pussy against me. Pleasure shoots up the length of my spine and turns my brain to mush.

Nope. It’s a trick. Damn it, Tanner.

I’m as gullible as Marlowe.

With a grunt, Kate tears her hands from my grip and shoves me off. I stumble into the side of a parked car, denting it. A massive slug is already draped halfway over the hood. It tries to slime me as I tear a small glass jar of salt from my hat, smashing it into the creature’s side. The car alarm goes off, and a purple Witchwoods badger attacks one of the front tires in response.

There’s a look of intense concentration on Kate’s face, but she doesn’t move when I rush her again. Instead, she waits until I’m in touching distance, and then she throws her wings down and launches herself up at the same time.

I leap for her ankle, but she’s gone before I can grab her, and I’m cursing my ass off … until I remember the broom.

You are in so much fucking trouble, kitten.