Page 47 of The Witch’s Shifter (Season of the Witch #3)

Aurora

ACCORDING TO FAOLAN, IT’S GOING to snow today.

I trust his instincts and senses enough not to question it despite how beautiful and blue the autumn sky is; if he says it’s going to snow, it’s going to snow.

So, with a basket in one hand and the crook of Faolan’s arm in the other, I head into the forest.

We walk through the trees slowly. Harrison is trailing along with us, though he walks on my other side and gives Faolan the side-eye whenever possible. At least they’re not hissing and growling at each other anymore.

The men have been working on Brookside all day.

With four of us in the house (and Harrison, though he takes up very little space) and a baby on the way, the cottage just isn’t big enough anymore.

And with Auntie’s approval, I felt ready to give Alden the okay.

He drew up a few blueprints, and after mulling it over and discussing it with the others, I decided on one extra bedroom and a washroom, both on the main floor right off the parlor.

Alden and Faolan have been working day in and day out, trying to beat the winter weather, and Rowan helps whenever he’s not patrolling Faunwood or helping the villagers with mischievous faerie creatures.

If only Brookside had a mischievous faerie of its own. How lovely that would be.

I want to make the men something hearty for dinner, and with autumn slowly giving way to winter, I know my foraging will soon come to an end. So, what better way to feed the ones I love than by harvesting out of the forest before it yields to the cold?

“What are we looking for?” Faolan asks as we walk. We’re both barefoot despite the chill of the earth; he seems to dislike footwear just as much as I do.

“Mushrooms.” I explain the different types I need, along with their colors so he can identify them. But as it turns out, he doesn’t need to.

“I can smell those,” he says.

One of my brows arches. “You can smell the mushrooms? Really?”

His lips pull back on one side, his smile wolfish. It makes my insides wriggle in a wholly pleasing way.

“Yes, really . Just like I can smell you right after you’ve passed through a room, or when you’ve been outside and the scent of autumn clings to your hair.

” Pausing, he reaches for my hair and pushes it over my shoulder, revealing the scar barely poking above the neckline of my long-sleeved dress.

Stooping toward me, he presses a kiss to the pink skin, and I sigh softly at the tingling left in the wake of his lips.

Locating the mushrooms is much easier with Faolan’s help, though I’ll admit it takes some of the fun out of the hunt. We fill our baskets much earlier than I expected.

“Well,” I say, gazing down at the baskets overflowing with chanterelles, “I suppose we should head back.”

“Or perhaps,” Faolan says, voice low, “we could extend our break.”

Tipping my head at him, I smile. “Trying to get out of work, hmm? What do you have in mind?”

There’s that wolfish smile again, his sharp teeth poking out from beneath his lips.

“Let’s go for a run.”

That wasn’t what I expected, but the idea of clinging to his warm black fur while he gallops through the woods makes excitement curl through my veins.

“Will you have me back before supper? I’ll need time to make the soup and the bread.”

“Maybe.” He yanks his tunic off his head, revealing his toned chest and beautiful brown skin.

“Or maybe I’ll run away with you, and we can start our own pack.

” His trousers are the next thing to hit the ground.

Now he’s standing in front of me, naked and beautiful.

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take? ”

From the underbrush nearby, Harrison scoffs. “Show-off.”

I glance in his direction, though I can barely see him through the bush he’s crouching in. “Do you want to come?” I offer.

His eyes flick to mine and narrow. “Are you insinuating I should ride upon the back of a dog? I’d rather not.”

My laughter is light and unburdened. “All right. If you’re sure.”

“Quite.”

Turning back to Faolan, I nod. “I’ll take my chances.”

He smiles.

This time when he transforms, I’m not as horrified by it as I was the first few times. Now, I see the beauty in it, the magic in his body rearranging his bones and sinew without leaving one mark behind. It’s mesmerizing.

When the transformation is complete, Faolan stands on four legs, his midnight coat sleek and stunning against the gold-green backdrop of the forest around us.

“I’ll race you back,” Harrison says suddenly.

“You want to race?” I ask, surprised he’d suggest such a thing.

“Yes.” His eyes flick to Faolan. “Unless the pup is scared.”

“What do you say, Faolan?” I ask as I walk toward him and place my hand upon his warm coat. “You want to race Harrison home?”

His response is a growl, his lips pulling back in a snarl that almost looks like a smile.

Almost.

And the emotion that sings through our bond tells me he’s up for the challenge. I think he’d be up for almost any challenge.

I grab his mushroom basket and discarded clothing, then clamber onto his back, though not gracefully. My belly is getting bigger each day, making what was once simple ever more difficult.

Beneath me, Faolan is warm and strong, like a fire to ward off the cold. With the two baskets held against my chest and one hand gripping his soft black fur, I smile.

“On your mark,” I say.

Faolan digs his nails into the soft earth, and in the bush, I can see Harrison crouching low.

“Get ready.”

Faolan’s muscles coil. I hold on tight, squeezing him with my legs.

“Go!”

With one mighty lurch, Faolan leaps into movement. The forest becomes a blur around us. My breath is stolen from my lungs, and the cool air stings my face, drying the tears that streak down my cheeks from the wind striking my eyes.

Upon Faolan’s back, I can almost convince myself that I’m flying.

When I close my eyes and tip my head back, it’s a feeling of freedom that comes over me.

I wonder, does Faolan always feel like this when he runs, when he abandons the man to the beautiful beast?

If so, perhaps we should all be much more envious of shifters, in all their many forms.

Harrison must be running along with us, but with the wind in my ears and the crunching of Faolan’s paws across the leaves, I can’t hear a thing. All I know is one moment we’re deep in the woods, and the next I’m breathless as we streak from the trees and into the sunlight shining down on Brookside.

Alden and Rowan both start at our sudden appearance. Rowan even lets out a yelp, which gives Alden a good laugh. Faolan slows, and I look around.

Somehow, Harrison is already seated on the porch, flicking his tail and looking smug with the twitch of his whiskers. How he beat us here, I have no idea. But Harrison has plenty of tricks up his silky white sleeves.

Beneath me, Faolan rumbles with an irritated growl.

I hold the mushroom baskets and lump of clothing out, and Rowan takes them, blinking at us in confusion. His long hair is pulled back in a knot at the base of his neck, and he’s got sawdust on one shoulder.

Behind him, Alden leans against the partially built addition to the cottage and smiles.

“What are you doi—” Rowan starts to ask, but then Faolan leaps back into movement, and I let out a laugh that rings through the clearing around us, making the hens squawk. “Be careful with her!” Rowan yells after us.

“We’ll be home in time for supper!” I call back to them. “Love you!”

And the last thing I see before we vanish into the trees is Alden’s smile, Rowan’s lighthearted smirk, and Harrison’s unconcerned yawn as he plops down for an afternoon nap.

Then the forest swallows us whole.

The End

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