Page 9 of The Witch’s Shifter (Season of the Witch #3)

Aurora

AFTER I’VE FILLED FOUR BOWLS with vegetable soup and have placed a hulking loaf of bread in the center of the table, I step back with a contented sigh.

Not that the men look all that content. On the contrary, they look about ready to crawl out of their skin.

Now clothed from the waist down, Faolan lifts the bowl of soup and gives it a sniff. “What is this?”

“Vegetable soup,” I say. “All harvested from the garden.”

He sniffs it again. “No meat?” he grumbles.

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it,” Rowan says. He’s leaning back against the counter, a bowl of soup in his hands. He tried to put his sword on the countertop behind him, but I insisted he take it back into the parlor. I’m determined to have a peaceful meal.

Faolan narrows his eyes with a low growl.

Meanwhile, Alden rips a chunk of bread off the loaf and watches the two of them with wary eyes, like he’s ready to jump between them should they decide to attempt to kill each other atop the kitchen table. At least it doesn’t wobble anymore.

Ignoring them, I take a sip of soup and let out a tiny sigh. It’s full of potatoes, carrots, spinach, and fresh onion. The broth has a hint of rosemary and thyme, and the nutmeg I added gives it a slight dash of sweetness. I cut my own slice of bread, slather it with butter, and take a big bite.

There’s nothing better than hot soup and warm crispy bread on an autumn evening. I’m not sure anyone could convince me otherwise.

Still grumbling to themselves, Rowan and Faolan start to eat. Despite his earlier concern, once Faolan takes a sip, there’s no stopping him. He devours his bowl in a few big gulps, then looks up at me where I’m seated on the kitchen counter beside Rowan. “Is there any more?”

Before I can stand up, Rowan takes Faolan’s bowl, slops two more ladles of soup into it, and shoves it back into his hands, almost spilling it. I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t look up at me.

Alden is taking this much better than Rowan is.

Maybe it’s because he’s already been through this once with me, or maybe it’s because his child isn’t currently growing in my belly.

Whatever the reason, Rowan is being uncharacteristically abrasive, and it’s only serving to inflame Faolan further.

I’ve got plenty of questions for the shifter, but if Rowan keeps it up, I’m not going to get any answers out of him.

We finish our dinner in relative quiet, and once we’re done, I hop down from the counter and wave at Faolan. “Let’s go check your bandages. Rowan, Alden, would you mind cleaning up for me?”

Rowan’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to object, but I sweep out of the kitchen and into the parlor before he can say a word.

The sun is sinking, and dark shadows cling to the corners of the room.

As Faolan eases into the parlor behind me, I draw the drapes closed, already feeling a hint of chill starting to creep across the windowpanes.

“Take a seat.” I gesture to the couch. “I’ll just get this fire going.”

Without a word, Faolan crosses the room and sinks onto the couch.

While he gets settled, I toss another log onto the fire.

A tingle goes down my back. It makes me glance to my left, where Rowan is standing in the foyer, glaring into the parlor.

I arch a brow at him, and he reluctantly takes a step back, but I know full well he’s not going far.

And I’m okay with that. Better than okay, really.

It’s heartwarming, knowing how badly he wants to protect me.

I just need a bit of space and a moment to talk with Faolan alone—or mostly alone, though I know Alden and Rowan will be listening in.

And Harrison’s ears will undoubtedly pick up on our conversation as well; he must’ve snuck back in at some point, because he was crouched on the stairs when I passed through the foyer.

Orange flames flicker to life in the stone hearth, fed by the added log, ready to devour it whole.

Heat tickles my face, and with a sigh, I stand and turn to face Faolan.

My back is aching tonight, and the stress these men are causing me sure isn’t helping any.

I could use a warm bath and one of Rowan’s massages.

In this light, Faolan’s blue eyes appear much darker, the icy flecks no longer visible. His hair falls over his shoulders like a waterfall, perfectly straight and glossy despite the three days he spent lying on my couch.

Slowly, tentatively, I move toward him. He watches as I sink down beside him on the couch and lift a hand. “Can I remove your bandages?”

His gaze flicks to my hand, then back to my eyes, and he nods.

With utmost care, I begin unwrapping the bandages from his shoulder, chest, and neck.

I move slowly. Faolan winces as I pull them away from his red-rimmed skin, but he doesn’t protest. When all the bandages have been stripped away, I get a good look at his injuries in the firelight.

The wounds to his chest and shoulder look like deep gouges, tracks dug into his skin.

The one on his neck is different though. It looks more like...

A bite mark.

Why didn’t I notice that before? Maybe because I was so focused on stopping his bleeding and getting everything clean and bandaged.

“Would you tell me how you got these?” I ask, leaning away from him and placing my hands in my lap.

“I was in a fight.”

I arch a brow. “With whom?”

He shrugs one shoulder, but the movement makes him wince. Though the injuries are healing, it’s obvious they’re still bothering him.

“One moment,” I say as I stand from the couch. “I’ll be back.”

I leave Faolan in the parlor and return to the kitchen, where Rowan is leaning against the doorframe and Alden is wiping crumbs from the table.

“What are you doing?” Rowan asks, brows drawing low over his green eyes. “You shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“Rowan,” I say softly, putting my hands to his chest. His heart pounds furiously beneath my palms. “I know you’re worried, and I know he’s dangerous, but please try to calm down. You’re right here if anything happens. Just let me speak with him, okay?”

He softens beneath my hands as I rise onto my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. Then I turn and give Alden a kiss on his bearded cheek as well.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him. He grunts in response.

Fetching my mortar and pestle and a few jars of herbs—white willow bark, devil’s claw, cat’s claw, and yucca—I begin to concoct a potent pain reliever. Once I’ve crushed them all down, I spoon them into a cotton tea bag, drop it into a cup, and pour steaming water over it.

With Rowan’s eyes burning a hole in my back, I leave the kitchen and step into the comforting warmth of the parlor.

Faolan is sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched over slightly, staring into the flames. The firelight dances across his face, illuminating the sharp cut of his cheekbones and brow bone. He sits up when I walk in.

“I’ve made you a tea. It’ll help with the pain.”

He reaches for the cup and gives it a tentative sniff. Then his lip curls up in disgust.

“It smells terrible.”

“I know.” I sink onto the couch beside him and let out a tired breath. “But it’ll offer some relief.”

Though he doesn’t appear convinced, he gives me a small nod. “Thank you... Aurora?”

That’s right, I never told him my name. I suppose he just heard Rowan call me by it.

The cup is still steaming when he lifts it to his lips and gives it a small sip. By the look on his face, you’d think I was asking him to drink warm mud. It almost makes me laugh.

After swallowing some down, he places the cup on the low table.

Then he turns to me, and I suddenly feel very small beside him.

He’s at least Alden’s height, if not taller, but his body is leaner, longer, bound in muscle.

My eyes sweep across his chest, his broad shoulders, his defined arms. Every part of him looks chiseled and cut, like he’s never had a slice of apple-cinnamon cake in his life.

We should probably change that if that’s the case.

“Why did you help me?” he asks, drawing my gaze back to his.

“Because you were hurt,” I say simply.

“Do you always help injured creatures?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like to see suffering.” I tilt my head at him, trying to understand what he’s getting at. “If I can help, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

“The inevitable being . . . ?”

His eyes are cold and hard when he says, “Death.”

“So, you wanted me to leave you out there in the cold to die? Is that what you’re saying?”

He lifts his uninjured shoulder in a shrug. “Where I come from, weak is the worst thing you can be.”

“And is that what you think you are? Weak?”

This time he has no reply for me. He just turns his gaze back to the fire. It seems he’s not willing to spill his secrets so easily.

After some time of listening to the wind blow and the flames crackle, I sigh. “Tell me what you meant when you said I’m your mate.”

Without turning to look at me, he replies, “What is there to explain?”

One of my brows arches as a bolt of irritation goes through me. “Plenty. I wasn’t aware shifters could mate with witches.”

“Witch,” he mumbles, finally turning toward me. “I wondered what you were. You don’t smell quite...” He sniffs the air. “Human. Close though. And there’s something else.” He sniffs the air again, but I scoot slightly away from him, a bit discomforted by his keen sense of smell.

“What does this mean?” I ask by way of distracting him. It works, thankfully. He sits back, easing himself into the cushions. The couch looks so tiny beneath him.

“How much do you know?” he asks. His voice is softer now, not so sharp. This is why I needed Rowan to give us a bit of space.

“The basics. Only what we were taught at Coven Crest.”

“Coven Crest?” He arches a thick black eyebrow.

“An academy for witches and warlocks.”

His lips quirk into a smirk. “I didn’t know there was such a thing. And what did they teach you about us?”

I take a moment to dig the lessons out of my brain. “That you’re born this way.” I gesture to him as the fire dances in the hearth. “That the first shift usually happens around fifteen. That it can take many years for a shifter to control the transformation. The basics.”

“And what of the mate bond?” His voice dips low. “Did they teach you of that?”

When he says it, the word mate , my heart patters, and for some reason, my cheeks get a touch warm. “I know it’s instinctual. And you can’t change it, even if you wish to. But I thought...” I glance down into my lap. “I thought it only happened between your kind.”

“Usually. But I’ve heard stories.” The couch cushion shifts. Then Faolan is reaching toward me, snagging a lock of my hair and twisting it around his forefinger. The contact makes me catch my breath. “Never about a witch though. This is a first even for me.”

“Are you...” I swallow, trying to stay focused as he keeps spiraling my hair around his finger. “Are you sure about this? Is it possible you’ve got it wrong?”

Before I can move, he leans forward, and my body goes rigid as his nose brushes the column of my throat. Breathing in deep, he traces my neck up to the shell of my ear. The gentle touch sends tingles through my body and down low into my belly.

I’m so glad Rowan isn’t standing in the doorway right now. If he saw this, I’m sure his sword would be about an inch away from impaling Faolan’s heart.

“Your scent...” He pulls back just far enough that I can see his elongated canines poking out from beneath his lips. “It’s the most enticing thing I’ve ever smelled. Like it was made for me. Like you were made for me.”

His words make heat flood my veins. When I break eye contact and glance down, I find Faolan’s borrowed trousers pulled tight, his length straining against the material.

“I’ve made no mistake,” he says slowly. “You’re my mate.” There’s a finality to it, and though he’s still a stranger, I believe him.

But I still don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

Someone clears their throat loudly behind me.

I scoot away from Faolan at the same time he lets out a rumbling growl, his focus shifting to something over my shoulder.

“You’re interrupting, knight.” The sharp edge has returned to his voice.

“And you’re a guest here, wolf. So watch yourself.” Rowan’s sharp-eyed gaze flicks to me briefly when I turn to look at him. “Are you all right?”

I nod and give him a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Something changes in the air then. When I turn back to Faolan, he’s wearing an expression of confusion. As Alden steps into the doorway behind Rowan, broad arms crossed over his chest, the confusion turns to anger.

“Wait,” he says, voice low. “Are you...?” His blue eyes find mine, swirling with something I don’t quite understand. “Are you mated to these men?”

His choice of words makes my cheeks flush warmer than a moment ago. “Well, I’m not sure I’d say we’re mated , but—”

Faolan leaps to his feet, knocking the low table away so forcefully that he spills the cup of tea I just brewed for him. I let out an involuntary gasp at the sudden crash and jolt back on the couch.

“They’ve touched you ?” His eyes are blazing blue fire.

“I’ve done more than that,” Rowan says as he steps into the room. His gaze flicks to my stomach, and Faolan’s follows.

He sniffs the air again. “You’re . . . ?”

This time when Faolan meets my stare, he looks crushed, anguished. And though I only just learned his name, only just learned what his voice sounds like, it physically hurts to see him in such pain.

“Faolan,” I say, standing and reaching for him.

But before I can touch his hand, the sound of cracking bones fills the parlor, accompanied by the tearing of fabric.

“Aurora!” Rowan is there suddenly, wrapping his arms around me, shielding me as Faolan’s body contorts in a series of twisting movements. He pulls me back a few steps, pushing me behind him as Faolan lets out a single strained cry.

Then the transformation is complete.

The black wolf standing in the parlor truly is a beast. Its teeth are pure white in the firelight, its lips pulled back in a snarl.

It’s so big, it makes the room look like a child’s playhouse.

The wolf throws its head back and lets out a howl, the sound so lonely and mournful that it brings moisture to my eyes.

Why does it pain me so?

Then, despite the wounds covering his body, Faolan turns and throws himself through the window in the parlor, shattering the glass and ripping the drapes down in one violent movement.

It’s so loud and chaotic that I let out a yelp, and Rowan wraps his arms about my body, holding me safe against his chest.

A crisp wind rushes in, so sudden and powerful that it blows the fire out, leaving me, Rowan, and Alden standing in darkness.

Once more, a howl breaks through the night, echoing over Brookside as it fades into the distance.