Page 34 of The Witch’s Shifter (Season of the Witch #3)

Perhaps when we get home later . . .

A round of applause goes up around us, and I step back from Faolan, hoping the distance will help me get my head straight. His gaze slides over me, to where my family is assembled, and he seems to steel himself. His hands curl into tight fists.

“I think I’m ready to meet your mother now.”

My eyebrows rise. “Are you sure? You don’t need to, truly.” When I laugh, it comes out sounding more nervous than I intended. For some reason, I’m uneasy about him meeting her, like she might say something that’ll send him running into the woods again. “She can be a bit—”

“I’m sure.” He straightens his shoulders, looking as sturdy and immovable as the Emberstone Mountains themselves.

I swallow hard, and the heat between my legs turns cold immediately. “All right.”

We cross the square, and everyone’s eyes focus on us as we approach. Most of the looks are cheerful—though Rowan’s smile looks a tad forced. My mother’s purple gaze sweeps quickly up and down Faolan, then settles upon me, making my skin itch.

“Mother, Wyland,” I say as we stop in front of them.

“This is Faolan.” I glance up at him, and though the worried crease has now returned to his brow, he doesn’t try to run off.

So far, so good. “Faolan, this is my mother, Evelyn, and my brother-in-law, Wyland. And of course, you’ve already met my sister.

Oh! And I can’t forget Fletcher, my little nephew. ”

Faolan nods once. “Pleasure,” he says, voice gruff and deep. It may just be one word, but that’s good enough for me. I’m so proud of him. He really didn’t want to do this, but—

“Aurora,” comes my mother’s voice, and my spine goes rigid immediately. “I’d like a word with you. Alone.”

Oh no.

Rowan and Alden both look at me, the happy expressions falling from their faces. Beside me, Faolan’s body tenses up, and I feel a subtle wave of heat roll off his skin. Reaching down, I give his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Of course,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. To the others, I announce, “We’ll be back shortly. Wyland, I want a dance with you next.”

Selene’s silver eyebrows slope down, and her lips pull into a frown. As I pass her, she whispers, “Do you want me to join you?”

I shake my head, then lean down and press a gentle kiss to Fletcher’s baby-soft head. Whatever my mother wants to say, I can handle hearing it alone.

Selene nods. She steps back, but I feel her eyes— everyone’s eyes—on me as I follow my mother away from the square.

We stop on the side of the road. From here, I can see Niamh’s apothecary, with candlelight flickering gently in the windows, and the little Faunwood library, though it’s sleepy and dark.

“So...” I try not to sound small, and I force myself to meet my mother’s gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”

Mama casts her eyes around, probably ensuring no one is within hearing distance, and then levels her eyes on me. “You must stop this at once, Aurora. It’s...” She waves a hand, searching for the right word. “ Unnatural. ”

My stomach gets hot. “What’s unnatural?”

I know of what she speaks, but I’m not going to make it so easy on her. If she wants to question all my life choices, she should at least be comfortable enough to speak them aloud.

She doesn’t skip a beat—not that I expected her to. She’s never been nervous to speak her truth, even if it slices those around her to the bone.

“Being with multiple men. First Alden, then Rowan, and now... him .” Her purple eyes flick toward Faolan, and even from here, with the evening darkening around us, I can see him watching us intently. I’m not sure if knowing he’s watching makes me feel better or worse.

“It’s not unnatural,” I say. “It’s just not... traditional. But I’ve never done what’s expected—you know that.”

My mother lets out a quiet laugh. It sounds tired and humorless, and something about it makes me feel very, very small.

It reminds me of living under her roof, feeling like a constant disappointment.

I don’t like the familiar feeling creeping inside me.

I left Wysteria for a reason. No part of me wants to return to the life I had before—to the life I lived with her .

“It’s just not right.” She shakes her head, lips puckering like she just tasted something bad.

“How would you know what’s right?” I snap, the anger inside me growing to a simmer. “You don’t know any of these men. You don’t even know me .”

This elicits a harsh glare. “You think I don’t know you? My own daughter?”

“No,” I say. “I don’t. You barely write, I’m quite certain you didn’t even want to make this trip to visit me, and now here you are, questioning all my choices.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

Ah, there it is. Mama has a way of throwing knives and then acting like she’s the one trying to shield me from the blades.

“Protect me from what?” I cross my arms over my chest, and my mother’s gaze flicks down to my belly, which is just visible beneath my autumn dress.

Inside me, Rowan’s child grows with each passing day, reminding me of the love we made beneath the summer trees, the first time I tasted sweet strawberry wine upon his lips.

“Yourself. You’re behaving like a coquette. Are you truly so desperate for attention? And to allow yourself to become pregnant .” My mother clucks her tongue, unawares to the pain ripping through my chest. “It’s irresponsible, to say the least. I raised you better than this.”

“You’re not . . . happy for me?”

Now I remember her face when I asked if she wanted to see the baby’s room, the easy grace with which she rejected my offer, like she couldn’t care less. And to think this woman is my child’s grandmother.

“Happy for you?” She shakes her head, and the distant firelight sends the silver flecks in her eyes shimmering. “No. I’m concerned for you—and that child. What kind of life will this be? It’s messy. An inappropriate living situation to bring a child into. Do you even know who the father is?”

My fingers curl into trembling fists. “Yes, I know who the father is,” I say, but the heat has gone from my tone.

Tears brim along my low lashes, turning the pinpricks of distant firelight into starbursts that try to blind me.

“And this child will have a beautiful life, one full of love and support and acceptance . They will have everything you refused to give me. And they will have a father who doesn’t leave them, who doesn’t make them feel like nothing . ”

A look of shock crosses my mother’s face.

“I can’t stand you,” I whisper as tears escape my eyes and track down my cheeks. “I want you gone. I don’t want you anywhere around my family.”

She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

For the first time in my life, my mother is speechless. But it doesn’t stop my tears.

Turning, I flee from her, running away from the square and down Hillock Lane toward the Golden Lantern and the now-quiet pumpkin patch. The farther I go, the harder I start to cry.

Of all the hurtful things she’s said to me in my life, this might be the worst. She was so excited when Selene announced her pregnancy, so willing to be part of the baby’s life.

But she wants nothing to do with my child’s life. Nothing to do with me.

And it shouldn’t hurt like this—after all, I have Harrison and Alden and Rowan, and maybe even Faolan—but it still does, still digs beneath my ribs like briars and pricks me in my most vulnerable places.

More tears course down my cheeks, blurring my vision so I have to stop and scrub them from my eyes. It’s getting harder to breathe, and I finally let myself break down, let a sob choke from my lips.

Behind me, there’s a soft rhythmic thumping. At first, I think perhaps it’s a rider in the distance, but as I stand in the dark alone, sobbing, the sound grows louder.

Until it’s right behind me.

I whirl around and let out a small gasp. I’m still not used to seeing Faolan in his canine form.

His long black fur allows him to almost vanish into the darkness, but his eyes, so bright and blue... I’d know those eyes anywhere.

“F-Faolan,” I whisper, holding out a trembling hand.

He steps forward slowly, as if trying not to frighten me.

Then he presses his snout into my palm. He’s warm and soft, and I feel immediately at ease, so comforted by his presence that I take two more steps and wrap my arms around his broad, strong neck.

He’s so tall, even on all fours, that I don’t even have to stoop; he reaches my shoulders easily.

For a moment, I cling to him, crying into his fur as he stands strong and unmoving. Then I hear voices in the distance, coming this way.

“I-I can’t go back yet,” I say. “I can’t see her. I don’t want to face the others like this...”

Faolan seems to understand. Nudging me with his snout, he pushes me toward his back, then lowers himself so that I may easily swing a leg over him and climb up.

When he rises, my toes leave the ground, and I have to twine my fingers through his thick fur to keep from falling off.

I hug him with my legs, awed by the strength of his muscles moving beneath me, the heat from his body warming me in mere moments despite the chill in the air.

He’s a thing of absolute beauty. He’s magic itself.

“Aurora?” calls a faint voice. It’s Selene. Figures are moving toward us, backlit by the firelight coming from the market square.

More tears track down my cheeks.

“I’m ready,” I tell Faolan. “Take me away from here. Please.”

And before anyone can find us, he slinks into the dark, carrying me along with him.