Page 33 of The Witch’s Shifter (Season of the Witch #3)

Aurora

DESPITE TOM’S GENEROUS OFFER, WE only picked one pumpkin each, plus a tiny gourd for Fletcher, who’s now asleep in his swaddle against Selene’s chest, drifting in milk-induced dreams. The men challenged one another to a biggest-pumpkin competition, and Wyland was the victor, having picked a pumpkin almost twice the size of his head, so I suppose he gets bragging rights for the rest of the week they’ll be here visiting us.

Plus I’ll get to make lots of baked pumpkin goodies: pie, breads, cookies—we’ll be drowning in pumpkin until Yule.

Which reminds me of how quickly the days are passing.

I don’t want to think about the week ending. Selene has already been here for two days, and my stomach feels sick at the idea of her climbing back into a carriage and heading home to Wysteria. I’ll miss her so much once she leaves.

We’re seated on a bench near one of many fires burning through the village, the flames casting beautiful warm light flickering over the cobblestones as the sun starts to descend toward the horizon.

Rowan took my mother to get spiced cider —he seems to have taken an odd liking to her, and she to him—and Alden and Wyland are off at the ale table.

That leaves me, Selene, and Fletcher sitting quietly as the flames dance.

The market square is being slowly cleared of carts to make room for dancing, and the fiddler is already tuning up. I keep glancing in that direction, waiting for the rest of the troupe to assemble.

“You’ve always loved to dance,” Selene says, calling my gaze back to her as she smiles.

Her long silver hair hangs loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes look mystical in this light.

A vial of water dangles from a silver chain about her neck—moon water, I know.

Without it, Selene feels tired during the day, like a nocturnal creature forced to rise with the sun.

She’s worn moon water around her neck since we were girls, and it brings me comfort to see it now, like perhaps the distance really hasn’t made us strangers to each other, as I feared it would; no matter the miles between us, we are still sisters, and nothing will ever change that.

“I have,” I say, perhaps a bit wistfully.

Rowan is keeping my mother busy, which is such a blessing I don’t want to interrupt, and Alden is so enjoying his time with Wyland and the other men that I wouldn’t feel right pulling him away.

It feels like all he does is work—for me, for the villagers, for his sister—and I want him to take this time to laugh and relax, not to feel like he has any burden on his shoulders, capable though they may be.

Perhaps Lydia is around here somewhere and can be convinced to join me for a twirl about the square.

“Then perhaps,” says a rough voice from over my shoulder, “you’d be willing to share a dance with me.”

My heart leaps into my throat. Next to me, Selene widens her eyes, and her lips pop open.

I turn slowly and look up into a pair of glacial-blue eyes framed by silky black hair. My breath almost gets caught in my throat.

Is this real?

“F-Faolan. You’re here . . .”

He’s wearing the clothes I set out for him, which means he’s been back to the cottage. The tunic is soft and airy, but the trousers hug his legs in such a way as to make my cheeks warm despite the chill in the autumn air.

“Yes,” he says softly. “I’m here.” His gaze flicks over my shoulder to my sister, pulling me from my reverie.

“Faolan, this is my elder sister, Selene.” I turn and gesture to her, only to find her still staring at him in a wholly obvious way. “ Selene ,” I say, perhaps a tad forcefully, “this is Faolan.”

She finally snaps her mouth closed and shifts her stare to me.

I told her all about Faolan while we sipped tea in her room at the Golden Lantern, including that I’m his mate .

She hadn’t ever heard of a witch-shifter bond either, but as she looks between us now, her lips turn up into a smile, and I think she’s liking the idea more and more.

“It’s good to meet you,” Faolan says, though it comes out strained, like the cordiality feels odd in his mouth. He certainly doesn’t have Rowan’s honey tongue, but it’s charming all the same.

“Likewise,” Selene says. “I’m glad to meet you face-to-face. Aurora has told me much about you.”

At this, Faolan shifts his boots upon the cobbles and looks down at me, seeming unsure.

“All lovely things,” Selene clarifies. Her voice makes Fletcher wriggle and yawn, and she rubs him softly on the back.

The musicians begin to play, effectively saving me from this awkward encounter. I stand swiftly and give Faolan a smile. “I’d love to dance with you.”

He holds out a palm, and when I put my hand in his, I note the small scrapes along his skin. From running through the woods, perhaps?

His skin is warm even in the cool air, reminding me of his higher-than-normal body temperature, like a fire smolders inside him at all times. It makes me shift closer to him as he guides me toward the square, where other couples are already gathering for the first dance.

As we walk, some of the villagers stop and stare. They’ve probably gotten used to seeing me around with Alden and Rowan, but with yet another man in the picture, and me five months pregnant...

I know how it must look to them, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when Faolan is looking down at me with his vibrant blue eyes, black hair hanging like a veil around his sharp cheekbones, his hand keeping mine warm and safe.

I’m just so glad he’s back and that he’s here, with me.

At the edge of the square, Faolan hesitates, breaking my stare to look warily toward the couples preparing to dance.

“Is there dancing in the pack?” I ask softly.

Speaking of his home makes him soften, even for just a moment, and his lips turn up on one side. “Yes, but they’re not”—he gestures with his free hand—“like this.”

“Not like what?”

“So... I don’t know.” His hand clenches, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “So... rigid .”

Now I look at the couples more critically, and I see what he means.

The men and women are lined up across from each other in two straight rows, looking giddy and excited for the first dance to begin.

He probably doesn’t know any of the village dances, which are popular here and in other cities, like Wysteria.

Having lived in the Emberstone Mountains all his life, I can’t imagine he’s up-to-date on his reels and jigs.

“We will dance on our own, then,” I announce, squeezing his hand in mine.

Faolan glances down at me. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, I tug him toward the far end of the square, where we can dance freely without getting in anyone’s way.

The firelight still reaches us here, but just barely, sending dark shadows cutting across Faolan’s face.

He looks a bit otherworldly in this light, and I know if he were to grin or snarl, his sharp canines would reveal themselves, white as snow against his umber skin.

The musicians start to play, and my heart patters in time to the drum.

Right now, I couldn’t care less about dancing with the other couples; all I want is to dance with him .

One of Faolan’s hands slips around my waist, and he lifts the other high.

Despite the lively rhythm and the clapping of the gathered onlookers, he moves me slowly, as if to a melody only he can hear—a melody of wind through the pines, of the whisper of paws through deep forest grass.

He twirls me once, making my skirt lift around my calves, then guides me back in.

This time, I step in close, and he tenses up for a second as I press my ear against his firm chest.

“Where were you?” I whisper. “Why did you go away?”

With his hearing, I’m certain he’ll have no trouble discerning my quiet words.

Beneath my ear, his chest rises and falls with a sigh. “The woods. I needed... time.” There’s a pause, then another sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have spoken to you, told you what was going on.”

I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. They look troubled.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” I squeeze his hand in mine. “I’m the one who should’ve been more considerate.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I find my family gathered at the edge of the square.

Wyland has his arm over Selene’s shoulders, and Rowan looks to be trying to convince my mother to join the dance, but she stands firm as a statue, arms crossed resolutely over her chest. Alden is there as well, sipping on his ale, cheeks flushed and dark eyes shining.

“This all must be incredibly overwhelming,” I continue. “It was thoughtless of me to try to drag you into it all.” Now I’m the one to sigh. “Please forgive me.”

There’s a gentle vibration from deep in Faolan’s chest, and when I look up, I see that he’s laughing. “You are much too good for me,” he says, but his voice is lighter now, and the look of worry creasing his brow smooths out until it’s no longer visible.

He twirls me again, making me giggle, and this time when he pulls me in, he bends low to press his lips to mine.

And I swear I can still taste the forest on them.

My hands creep into his long hair as his arms loop around my waist. I deepen our kiss, digging my fingers into the back of his neck.

His sudden absence left a hollow spot in my chest, a gap even Alden and Rowan couldn’t fill. And it made me realize how badly I want him around, how I want to be part of his life, and how I want him to be part of mine.

Maybe I’m ready to be his, whatever that might mean. Ready to be his mate .

Gently, like a caress, I draw my tongue over Faolan’s bottom lip. He growls against my mouth, arms tightening about me.

“Unless you’d like me to take you right here,” he whispers, “we’d better stop.”

Heat pulses between my thighs, and I can scarcely control the desire sweeping through me. But he’s right; now is certainly not the time, nor is it the place.