Chapter 16

Tanner

What the hell am I doing wrong here?

Must be something, with the way Kate’s been looking at me.

No. No. No. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was standing aside. I was giving Kate … space to be with Brooks. With Marlowe. And then he lost her to that fucking tree. Not gonna happen ever again.

I don’t need her more than a step or two away from me at any given moment.

Kate whirls around from her spot in front of the toilet, giving me a look.

“Can I please just use the toilet in peace?” She grabs onto her hat brim with both hands and then curses when the brand-new teeth cut her. “The hell?” A long tongue snakes through the stitching on the edge of the brim, licking the blood from her fingers and giving Kate shivers all over.

I grin as her body erupts in goose bumps, and her hair stands on end.

“So cute. A tongue?” I wink at her, but she isn’t looking at me, white-faced and still as her newly sentient hat cleans her fingers off with careful curls of its demon tongue before withdrawing back into the fabric and disappearing. “Were you trying to mimic my shadow?”

Kate turns to look at me, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to use the bathroom. Please leave.”

I cross my arms and give her a look, stepping into the doorjamb and turning. There. Now I’m only looking at her out of the corner of my eye. Not sure if she can feel it or not, but we’re being stalked. The Hag Wytch could show up at any time.

My wife could fall through the Witch’s Tree. Again.

I can’t believe I let it happen once.

It makes me feel absolutely feral when I think about it. I could kill Marlowe. I could leash Kate to me. I’m still trying here. This is me trying.

“Better?” I ask, and then I turn to stare at the wood jamb across from me, closing my right eye for the illusion of more privacy. Doesn’t work.

I hear footsteps, cracking my right eye and turning to see Kate standing in front of me. She looks contemplative, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to one side. Her orange and black braid swings, and I see her shadow’s horns rise up over her head.

“Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?” I tease, leaning down and pressing my nose to hers.

She exhales and jerks back, nearly stumbling over the rug on the floor. My smile twitches, like it might plummet into a frown. You’ll comfort Marlowe. And you’ll play sex chess with Brooks. Why? See? I am doing something wrong. Still.

“Are you okay?” Kate asks, reaching up with both hands and taking my face in hers. “If you’re not upset about your dad, is it something else? I see you do this alot, disappear into your head. Walk away like you need space.”

To say I’m surprised is … well, that’s not true. I’m not just surprised. I’m stunned. Blindsided.

Kate is cradling my face in her hands, eyes half-lidded with something other than lust. Sorrow? Affection? What the hell?

“Am I okay?” I repeat, cocking my head to the side and forcing my mouth into a cocky half-smile. It works on Kate. I see her skin ripple, watch her bite her lip. She shakes her head, like she’s trying to throw off her reaction. She stops and looks at me again, and the sorrow is back.

I stop smiling.

“Why do you do that?” she asks, frowning as hard or harder than I am. “Flirt with me like that. Because you decided to? Because you’re just used to flirting with anyone? Because you want to flirt with me ?”

I don’t know what to say to that. Nobody’s ever asked me if I was okay like that, like my answer mattered. I’m momentarily tongue-tied. I can see my shadow on the wall, demon tongue twisted into a knot.

I turn and step forward suddenly, snatching Kate by the shoulders and throwing her a little harder than I meant to into the wall. Her breath comes out in a rush, but her hands somehow manage to stay on my face. She grips me in tight fingers, trying to make eye contact.

I’m panting. Can’t breathe. I try to kiss her, and she turns her head.

Ouch.

“Tanner, if you want to be my husband, you have to be honest.”

I step back, releasing her, but she doesn’t let me go. Then it’s her throwing herself into me and it’s so unexpected that I stumble back and slam into the wall with Kate hanging off of me. Her arms are around my neck, clinging possessively.

It’s seriously fucking odd to be the one that’s being chased. Not that I’m unused to women coming after me like this, but … not from Kate.

“I told Marlowe that I wanted him emotionally available,” she says, letting go suddenly and holding her palms up in surrender. I hate that she even brought him up. I gnaw at my lip. Dig my hand into my pants to fix my cock and end up with pre-cum smeared on my palm.

With a sigh, I wipe it on the thighs of my jeans. They’re already ruined. I’ll have to change.

Kate flushes red and then looks around like she’s checking for escape routes. All that does is make me frown harder. If she’s interested, why is she acting like she’s not?

Because she doesn’t trust you.

And for good reason.

I’ve probably made a lot of girls feel just like Kate, like I actually liked them.

All lies.

God, I’m a piece of shit. Kate will only give so much, and this isn’t something I want to mess up. I have to do it right, make sure it’s genuine. Make sure I pick the right moment for every step of this relationship.

“Sure you don’t want me to fuck you on this counter?” I point at it with a dirty finger, and she swallows twice before answering. Her nipples pebble when I lift that finger to my mouth and suck it clean. “Brooks is still working on that pumpkin bread. We can’t leave until it comes out of the oven. There’s time.”

“Is there any semen in that pumpkin bread?” she retorts back at me, color high on her cheeks and in her forehead. I can smell her from here, arousal and frustration. It’s mixed with nutmeg and cloves on the warm air, a comforting scent that I swear I’d forgotten during my time in the woods. Like autumn or something.

“Not in this batch. You want some? Bet the boys and I could whip that right up for you.”

“Stop it, Tanner!” she yells at me, and my eyes go wide. I fold my arms, tilting my head. My hat slides over one eye, one wolf ear pricked while the other lies flat. I can see myself in the mirror, with silver coins and blue sapphires for eyes.

Still can’t get over the difference from last year until now.

I am not the same person.

Now Brooks, he’s the same person. Marlowe is an entirely different person. Me? I’m a better person.

“Stop what?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“If you just continuously hit on me and then excuse yourself afterward like you’re not a part of the group, it feels like you’re lying to me.” She’s panting now, reaching up to shove orange bangs from her sweaty forehead. Her hazel eyes shift to the side, and her hat sprouts a new tongue to lick her face clean. She swats it off with a huff of irritation before looking right back at me. “You seemed so easy at first—and maybe that was the point. You’re used to being easy, aren’t you?”

I blink down at her, flattening both of my ears. Our shadows are swatting at each other with clawed hands. Can’t tell if it’s playful or combative. I take a step back and raise an eyebrow.

“Easy?” I repeat, unsure how to respond to that question. I furrow my brows, still frowning.

“See?” Kate says, reaching up to poke that spot. My skin flushes, and I curl my hands into fists to keep from grabbing her. I shouldn’t resist. I should just fuck her. She loves that. “This is the realest expression I’ve ever seen on your face. You can’t be more closed-off than Lo, right? Than Brooks?” Kate is peering at me now, almost like she’s pleading.

I grin back at her, trying to comfort her. It feels like she’s asking me to be her partner, to help her out with the other men, with the Hag Wytch, with everything. I cup the side of her face and lean down, but even though she bites her lip, she also averts her eyes.

“I’m right here, Kate. I’m not even going to let you take a piss without me. How’s that for dedication?”

She only stares at me, like she’s waiting. I sigh.

Hitting on women worked in the past. I told myself that if we caught ourselves a North, the best thing I could do was use all the practice I had on the woman that was finally mine. All the hot looks and the lip biting, the whispering in her ear, kissing her neck, running my fingers through her hair. All the moves I know women love.

I don’t know that I always mean to do it. Can’t help myself. It’s like a permanent default. It’s how I’ve always gotten my way, what I’m used to doing.

I had no one and nothing, and I’ve chosen Kate to be my everything.

Doesn’t that account for something? All I’m trying to do is open the door here. I’m trying.

I’m working on the coven thing, and so is Kate. She’s doing a good job, exactly what we asked her to do: get to know all of us. Accept us. Belong to us. And here she is.

How can I be upset? It makes me feel disgusted with myself. What the hell is wrong with me? She likes these other guys and they treat her like shit; she’s treating them better than they rightfully deserve.

Women used to fall for me, and I’d ignore them. Now, I’ve decided to fall for this one and she’s unhappy about it.

I can’t let her see any of these emotions on my face. These are all my problems to deal with.

I make myself smile again, turn her around, and slap her on the ass. She gasps in outrage.

“No point in arguing, kitten. I should be more up your ass, not less. If I had been, you wouldn’t have gotten through the Witch’s Tree on my watch.”

“You sound like Brooks ,” she snaps back at me, yanking her dress up and getting on the toilet to pee. I turn away, working my jaw and trying to keep it all in. None of this shit is her problem.

All she needs to do is show up. Stay with me. She can’t run. That’s my only condition.

I am goddamn serious about it, too. Deathly. She isn’t fucking leaving.

“Hey,” she whispers after standing up and fixing her dress. Kate pauses by the sink to wash her hands, but I can see her studying me surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye. She’s admiring my body, the breadth of my shoulders, the strength in my arms. Her face turns red again as she looks back at the sink. “When I fell into the Witchwoods …” she trails off, and I cross my arms, lounging like I don’t care what she’s going to say.

I do.

I’m curious.

“You were the furthest from the tree, but the first one inside to get me. Somehow, I knew you would come.” Kate finishes washing her hands and then dries them on a black towel. “Was there even a single second of hesitation? Even one errant thought?”

“Nothing,” I say, and my voice has turned to ice.

Kate’s attention whips to my face, and I wonder if she can see the Witchwoods monster that I am underneath. I’m still the man that beat Marlowe until he couldn’t stand, ruined him in the forest and broke his body to pieces. I shot him with an arrow.

I’m as guilty as Marlowe Waverley. As guilty as Brooks McDowell.

“Not a single thought,” I emphasize before stepping back and waiting for Kate to follow.

Tough thing about a disagreement like this: we have nowhere to go. We’re bound together. I will force her proximity, argument or no argument.

It’s just so much easier to smile.