“Wow,” she says, hurt shifting in her eyes.
“That’s not what I meant, Sara,” I say softly. “I’m asking if you’ve considered mating.”
A blush blossoms against her cheeks like an opening rosebud, and she glances away to hide it. When she composes herself, she says, “I like him, Jinx. I really, really like him.”
“Have you told him?” I brush the dirt off my hands. My nails are stained green, but it’s nothing a good hand-washing won’t fix.
“Not yet.” She bites her bottom lip and looks to the men. The setting sun illuminates her red hair. “I don’t know if he’ll feel the same way.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, awed beyond belief. “You love him!”
“Keep your voice down!” she hisses.
I grip her upper arm and tug her to me. The conversation reminds me of the same one we had right before Jacob and my first date. “You love him,” I say softly close to her ear. “You love him, and you’re terrified he doesn’t love you back. That’s what this is, isn’t it? He has a reputation that intimidates you.”
She pokes me in the side. “Glad you’re being so dramatic.”
“It is!” I laugh, then sober at the true worry in her expression. I wrap my fingers gently around her free hand and squeeze lightly. “Sara, he came here with you. He followed you, knowing he wasn’t welcome. Knowing he’d be hated. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same way about you.”
Hope colors her cheeks darker. “You think?”
“What are we? Twelve?” I snark. “A blind person could feel the attraction between you two.”
She glares. “Says the skinwalker who is happily mated.” She peeks at me from under long lashes. “You are, right? Happy?”
The breeze chills my teeth exposed by a smile. I look back to the shifter in question, only to find his heated gaze already on mine. I get the feeling they both can hear our conversation because Cinder looks at Sara the same way. Thankfully, Sara isn’t facing them to see their reactions.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “More than happy.”
A thrill travels through me, a thrill that isn’t my own but sidles up to the warmth traveling through my veins and straight into my newly-mended heart.
“I love him,” I say. The words sink to someplace deep inside him, and he resumes putting the finishing touches on his pumpkin, a smirk tucking the corners of his lips.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jacob Trent
“All Hallows’ Eve is a sacred day for us witches,” Marian says to me. She and I are watching and waiting for all of the witches to gather in the living area. One by one, they dash into the room as if they had been busy and forgot the time. As far as I can tell, witches look forward to this day all year round. Why they’re late for All Hallows’ Eve is beyond me.
Chatter fills the space, quiet excitement for the main show.
“But it would seem it is not as sacred for Jamie as it once was,” she confides.
I lean against the fireplace mantel while Marian hunches next to me, warming her hands by the roaring fire. The flames crackle and pop, a soothing sound that reminds me of home.
Jinx, Sara, and Cinder are squished together on a couch, resembling bickering siblings, but I can see the hurt in Sara’s eyes as she occasionally regards the door and the vased flowers on the coffee table. Sara’s mother hasn’t shown up, and the coven has no plans to wait for her.
“It is said,” Marian continues, “this day is when there’s more magic in the air than in our veins. This is the day our motha’ was created.”
“Myla?” I had heard about the tale of the firstborn witch before the Realms War had begun.
“No, child.” My heart warms at the endearment, and I settle against the mantel to listen to the story.
Until now, Marian has only called me ‘alpha’ or ‘shifter,’ reserving the word ‘child’ for her most favorite people.
“It is the day the fee were created by the Divine. The original fee. Our motha’ was Myla’s motha’, Erline, fee of the Earth Realm. Today is the day of her creation, many, many moons ago.”
“Is that so?” I ask distractedly, glancing at Jinx. Since I heard the words she had said in the garden as clear as the birds who had been swooping and chirping in the sky, I haven’t been able to think of much else. She’s happy being with me. Said it like a prayer sent in the wind.
Marian glances up at me, lifting an aged and grey eyebrow. “We neva’ had a shifta present, that’s for sure. I reckon it’ll be more interestin’ with ya beasts around.”
“Anything I should expect?” I ask, curiosity finally peaked. This is part of my mate’s heritage, after all, things I should be learning, especially if I’ll be around this coven for the rest of my life. Somehow, over the course of the day, the witches have oddly accepted Cinder and me. I hadn’t expected it.
Marian grins mischievously. She digs in her dress’s pocket and pulls out a vial. When she uncorks it, the awful smell of the sagebrush potion Sara had been brewing in the garden rolls my stomach. She sprinkles it over the flames, and they hiss their displeasure. The hiss becomes a keening sound, and I clench my jaw to it. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long, but the orange hues of the fire become black – as black as a writhing night sky.
I blink, surprised.
With a glance around the room, Marian raises her arms to the group. The cane lifts with her, and the fire reflects off its nicked wood.
I snap my gaze to Jinx, warily anticipating what I’m about to endure. Her eyes twinkle, and pure joy slithers in our bond. The joy is infectious, and I find myself grinning.
All around us, floating jack-o’-lanterns spin and hover about above our heads, their faces lit by the tea candles within them. The candles and the fire are the only sources of light in the room. The corners are heavily shadowed, but the webbing sandwiched between the walls’ corners glow.
A draft fills the room, carrying whispers with it, and as Marian’s hands raise higher, my wolf stirs. Magic thickens the air, an invisible, almost humid magic that pricks at my instincts.
“Welcome, witches – and friends – to All Hallows’ Eve.” Though her voice is quiet, Marian’s words rattle the room. The floor quivers below my feet. I don’t know what else she says. I don’t know because the power of the woman beside me pulses against every fiber of my being. I cross my arms over my chest and dig my nails into the skin to stave off the urge to shift.
I haven’t felt such power since Katriane DuPont’s at the Realms War. It doesn’t match hers, but it’s a startling comparison. A force to be reckoned with. No wonder not a single witch questions Marian’s authority. Her voice alone could make the earth tremble.
Cinder’s eyes are glowing, and he grips the cushion of the couch tightly.
Steady, I send him through mindspeech, a command to his wolf. Sara, having noticed Cinder’s discomfort, grabs his hand before he can shred the cushions, and interlaces his fingers with hers.
At the same time, everyone’s attention darts to the ceiling expectantly. Louder and louder, the voices grow. The spirits pour into the room with more being added by the second. Children, women, men, animals. Trails of gold and red and orange ooze through the ceiling and streak across it like colored wind, illuminating the peeling paint and splotchy water stains. They sparkle in a way that resembles Jinx when she skinwalks.