Chapter 19

Kate

Nobody wants to go to the spa after our outing to Fern Canyon.

I can’t say why. Maybe it’s the murky awkwardness in the truck that’s half sexual tension and half … all of the other things going on. With Brooks, there’s a stalemate between us concocted of dominance wars, bullshit, and misunderstandings. With Marlowe, it’s … if we went back in time, and I saw you in the Witchwoods, I’d … let you go.

I almost screamed at him that under no circumstances should he ever let me pass by in any universe, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch considering the relative newness of our relationship.

And then … there’s Tanner.

It was so easy with him. So easy. And then I had to go and ask him if he was in love with me? Why did I do that?

He’s awake and making coffee the next morning, shirtless and beautiful in my vintage kitchen. I’m struck by the sight of him, sunlight falling over his dual-colored hair, catching on the gold and making it shimmer. Ebon sits on his shoulder, wings tucked in close, hopping back and forth as she examines what he’s doing with the coffeepot.

She spots me before he does, turning her head to look at me and staring with six glowing purple eyes. I put a finger to my lips, as if she actually knows what that means. I sneak forward in my fuzzy socks, and I throw my arms around Tanner from behind without thinking too hard about it.

Having sex with him is one thing. Touching him like he’s … my dark-avowed coven husband? A whole different experience. He tenses up at first, but quickly realizes it’s me, reaching up to pull one of the stolen earbuds from his ear. He’s listening to music—using my phone. This means that he’s not only stolen my headphones but also my phone and learned how to use it all.

“You’re impressive, for somebody that time traveled from 1988 to this hell we call the present.” It’s a joke, of course. I’m not sure the eighties were any better; each era has its issues for sure.

“All I know is your password and that I should touch the green circle to start music. That’s about it.” Tanner turns around but when I try to step back and drop my arms, he grabs on and holds them in place, essentially spinning inside my embrace.

His eyes are fixed on me, his big hands coming to rest on my upper arms. I like the weight of them through the long-sleeved sweater I’m wearing, the heat. The back door is open, and even though it’s gearing up to be a hot day (in terms of Eureka weather which means like mid-seventies), it’s relatively cool right now.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, nice and direct. I wish I could shrivel up like the weird flytrap that spontaneously grew from the side of the refrigerator and died just now. Its wrinkled purple carcass falls to the ground with a splash of glitter, and Ebon swoops down to scoop it up in her beak, cawing at us before she takes off out the back door.

Flick trots in, panting, like maybe he already got to play frisbee or something before I even woke up. How can I compete with that? I should just accept that he’s our dog now.

“Why would you think that?” I ask as I actively avoid that penetrating stare of his. I stare at the fridge instead as he slides his hands down my arms to grip my elbows. “Seems more like you are avoiding me. ”

“You put pillows between me and you last night. Pillows between you and Marlowe. I won’t even ask what the hell is going on with Brooks because Lord knows he probably started it.” Tanner pauses, like he’s just thought of something in particular. “You know, he did bring something interesting up yesterday—”

“I’m not averse to sleeping with you guys,” I growl out, forcing my gaze back to his in a sudden burst of strength and determination. “I didn’t say that I was. I told him that he didn’t like me, and he never denied it. So, I said that I’d fuck him whether I liked it or not. I didn’t say that I definitively did not like fucking him.” I’m huffing when I finish, cheeks flushed and nose perked to the scent of fresh coffee.

Caffeine will solve all my problems.

I try to pull away from Tanner, but he grips my wrists before I can.

We stand there looking at each other in my grandma’s kitchen, and I can’t help but wonder what she’d think of all this. She’d be excited for me. Thrilled by the idea of magic. Mesmerized by the thought of starting a coven. Knowing her, she’d seek out my friends and try to join theirs. Or jump back in the Witch’s Tree to make a coven with Detective Gilley and Viv, the K9 handler.

“Okay, avoiding Brooks, I get. Marlowe … well, shit, I didn’t peg him for an obsessive stalker loverboy type, but there you go. Avoid him as much as you want.” Tanner flicks his tongue against the edge of his lip and leans down so that I have to go cross-eyed to stare at his mouth. Which … I do. I stare at it and then look back up at his eyes, at those dilated pupils, those dark lashes. “Tell me: what am I doing wrong, Kate?”

“You—” I try to pull away from him again, but he grips me even tighter, walking me backward until my ass bumps the edge of the table. “Listen, if I don’t want to have sex with you, I don’t need a reason.”

“Oh? You don’t want to have sex with me?” Tanner releases one of my wrists and then flicks up my sweater, exposing one of my taut, pebbled nipples. “Should I see how wet you are, too? Get a definitive answer to that question?” He’s grinning as I yank my sweater back into place, flushing all over in a mixture of excitement and frustration. “What the hell did I tell you? If you touch me, I take you. Did you forget?”

“You said that offer was null and void,” I counter before realizing what agreement he put in its place.

“True. I said that I wouldn’t even wait for you to touch me, that I’d just fuck you whenever I wanted.” Tanner slams his palms down on the table on either side of me, putting his lips up against my ear. I shiver at the sound of his voice, deep and rife with confidence. Strong. Sure. “I do want , Kate. I want so hard.” His voice shivers with the edge of a growl. “So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Right here. Right now.”

He breathes in deep, his nose against my hair, his right hand sneaking over to grip my left hip. I exhale so violently that his hair ruffles in the breeze, and he laughs.

“Tell me, Kate. I want to know why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” I groan, but that’s not true. I am. I’m avoiding him and Brooks and Marlowe, all for very different reasons. Some of those reasons have more to do with me than the men.

“ I don’t think I would, if it was you.”

Yeah, I’m only avoiding Marlowe because I’m intimidated by the rapidity with which our relationship has progressed. He was easier to handle when he was just a cranky prick all the time.

Tanner leans back and then, annoyingly, he stands up and turns away, busying himself with pouring two cups of coffee.

I frown.

That’s it?

He’s not going to fight harder on this?

“Thanks,” I grumble as he hands over a mug, already prepared with milk the way I like it. I sip carefully, eyes narrowed over the rim.

“Don’t think we’re done here,” Tanner assures me, glancing over his bare shoulder like he could sense the indignant stare I was giving him. “I just thought you’d want to deal with her first.”

“Her?” I ask, as I realize that Flick is barking in the backyard. Happy barks though. Friendly barks.

Georgia appears in my back door with a frown on her face, a bottle of wine in her right hand.

It’s eight o’clock in the morning.

She walks in without saying a word, slams the bottle on the table, and then digs through my cabinets until she finds her favorite cup. It’s a plastic, stemless wine glass (very classy), and it reads Where Y’all At? She pours the red wine into it. Glug, glug, glug.

I clear my throat, and only then does she look up at me, big purple circles under her eyes.

“All of the shit I’ve seen since we got back …” She hesitates, looking over at my fridge and the mushrooms growing from the top. Back outside, at the black cat with six eyes that’s sitting perched on the railing of my deck. Back to me again. “What the hell, Kate?”

“It’s Witchwoods stuff,” I tell her, wishing I’d explained things better when she was here with Fernanda and Tacy. I was waiting for her call, letting her process everything, but maybe I shouldn’t have put this off for so many days? “It’s mostly harmless.” I pause. “Except for, you know, the Hag.”

“Right.” Georgia is still staring at me as she lifts her glass to her lips, brown eyes sliding over to Tanner. He’s leaned back against the countertop, sipping his own coffee and studying me like he’s planning his next move.

He didn’t not screw me against the kitchen table out of a sense of propriety. I can tell that he doesn’t give a shit about Georgia, that he’d have done it anyway and made her wait. I’m being left to sweat it out in an attempt to shake the truth loose.

I should just tell him. I can’t stand when characters in movies cause problems for themselves because they simply won’t speak up. It’s just … I’m embarrassed. I’ve been so lonely and so sad and now, I’ve got an insta-family and I don’t know how to react. I want Tanner to fall in love with me. I don’t expect him to be there yet, but when he said what he said, I … got lost in the fantasy.

Crap. That’s exactly what I should say to him, huh? Damn it. I hate when I argue with myself, and then win the argument. It’s annoying.

“The Hag,” Georgia repeats, pulling out a chair and slumping into it. “I see that stupid owl everywhere. In glassware. Windows. Metal trash can lids.”

I nod, taking the chair beside her. My friend looks tired. Can’t say I blame her. It’s exhausting to have your entire worldview and reality rewritten overnight. I want to reach out and take her hand, but …

Being lonely isn’t a choice; it’s a byproduct of modern life. Or maybe just of life in general? Anyway, I can’t suddenly force strong relationships, but I sure as hell can nurture the ones that I have. I can make efforts in an attempt to change my circumstances—just like I did when I chose to visit the Witchwoods. That was a choice, and choices are what shape the future, not the hand of some unseen force called fate.

Tanner’s watching me as he sips his coffee, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts. When I reach out and take Georgia’s hand in mine, he smiles and hides the expression behind his mug. My friend squeezes my fingers back, closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair.

This is it, the moment where I have to tell her the truth. The longer I keep it hidden, the worse it becomes.

“I need to tell you something,” I begin, which is probably the worst possible way to broach this subject. Nothing good ever starts with those words and Georgia knows it. Her eyes fly open and she turns a look on me that makes me fidget in my chair. When I move to pull my hand away, Georgia squeezes my fingers even tighter.

“Katelynn Poppy,” she warns, holding me in place with that stare of hers. “Is whatever you’re going to tell me about to ruin my day? Because I had a neon green snake with two heads slither off my headboard and into my hair this morning. My patience is limited and very, very thin.”

“The first group breakfast we had after I came back from the woods …” I pause to drink some coffee, just for fortification purposes. “Brooks used a memory loss spell on you. And Fernanda. And Tacy. Oh, and Tacy’s boyfriend, the one with the van.”

“Jared,” Georgia says, and then she groans, pulling her hand from mine and putting her elbow on the table. She rests her face against her palm and mumbles words at me. “Why?”

It’s not the question that I expected her to ask.

“Because the last thing we needed was more people putting their hand in that goddamn tree.” Brooks appears in the kitchen doorway, dressed for work in a tight white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the jeans he bought from the thrift store. He’s wearing his Witchwoods boots, the eyes on his hat blinking randomly, a sea of glittering red irises.

Georgia lifts her head to look at him, the edge of her lip curling slightly. She doesn’t like any of these guys, but she really doesn’t like Brooks. I get it. I’m still on the fence with him myself.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me it was for my own good?” Georgia laughs, leaning back in her chair and sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder. She takes another sip of her wine.

“On the contrary, I was going to apologize and take full responsibility for what happened. Kate didn’t know enough at the time to make a decision either way. Even if she had, I’m the leader of this coven and all mistakes are mine.” Brooks walks into the kitchen, resting a hand on the back of a chair. He glances at Tanner who sets his mug down so that he can sign with those big, beautiful hands of his. I could watch hours of that, these three men with their magic-kissed hands signing to each other.

“Why?” Georgia repeats, looking at Brooks instead of at me. She’s a South; he’s a South. I have a feeling that if she does decide to form a coven with the other girls that she’ll be just as bossy, just as much of a leader as he is. “Did I see something I shouldn’t have?”

“Just a dead rabbit,” Tanner says, setting his mug aside and grabbing his bow off the counter. He stalks toward the back door, crouches down, and then fires a shot into the grass. I hear something scream, and then the sound abruptly cuts off. He stands up and grins, heading outside to retrieve whatever it is that he’s just killed.

“A dead rabbit?” Georgia asks, giving me a look.

“A Witchwoods rabbit,” I tell her, reaching up to touch my hair. It’s all tangled, even though I braided it last night. Surely there’s a spell for that? I almost ask, but then I know what Brooks’ response is going to be. Sure, we can do a spell to keep your hair nice. Right after we triple the size of our bed. Oh, and after we bind the Witch’s Tree. “Tanner did … well, what he just did at the cafe.”

“My mind is my own,” Georgia states, still looking at Brooks. “You don’t get to make choices for Kate or anyone else—especially not me.”

Brooks’ mouth edges up into a pretty, little smile.

“If I think making choices for you or Kate or anyone else is what’s best, then I’ll do it. However, in this case, I was wrong. And, if you form your own coven, then I’ll stay out of your business.”

“Kate, what the hell?” Georgia breathes, turning to me. “He’s awful. ”

“He’s—” I don’t know how to respond to that. He is sort of awful sometimes. Brooks is looking at me now, but I refuse to return his stare. Then Marlowe walks in, yawning and scratching at his taut lower abs, my cat curled up in his right arm.

Also, he’s naked.

Naked.

Marlowe freezes, noticing Georgia at the table, and then turns right around and hauls ass out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Did he just …?” Georgia doesn’t finish the sentence, reaching up to press her fingers against her temples. “This is why you guys are viral right now.”

“Because they don’t wear shirts?” I reply, trying to make a joke out of it. Brooks is still staring at me, and I know that Georgia hasn’t forgotten the idiotic things he just said.

Marlowe only comes back once he’s got clothes on, witch hat askew on his hair, traitorous cat still tucked under one tattooed arm.

“ I don’t think I would, if it was you.”

Ugh. Please no. Fuck these intrusive thoughts!

“Did one of your friends get eaten by the Hag?” he asks casually, opening the fridge in search of more cold brew. Stix, that evil black feline, is cuddled up to him like he’s her soulmate. “I would assume that’d be the only reason you’d show up here so early in the morning—unannounced.”

“I texted her twenty times, you prick,” Georgia snaps back, and then she looks at me with accusation clear in her eyes. Tanner stole my phone! I want to tell her that, but I think that’d only get me into worse trouble. “Put a leash on these bros, Kate.”

“Kate’s the only one who likes to wear a leash,” Brook retorts easily, and somehow, the vine that’s hanging in the basket in the kitchen corner lashes out and slaps him across the cheek. He puts a hand up to his face, like he’s as surprised as I am.

“Thank you.” Georgia seems satisfied that he has a small, bleeding cut on his gorgeous, chiseled, slightly stubbled cheekbone. Fuck. I wish I wanted to do something other than lick the blood off. I hate him. “Let’s just say that if I ever find out something like that has happened again, I’ll be upset. Just this once—for the sake of brevity and efficiency—I’m letting it go.”

Brooks snorts, and this time, the vine snaps him in the ass. Now that really gives him pause. The look he throws me is nothing short of murderous.

“Remember what I told you?” I smirk. “Act like a leader if you want me to treat you like one.”

“You think that was a spanking?” Brooks turns all the way around and leans down, one hand reaching past my right shoulder to grip my chair. His green eyes are intense, the sigil on his chest glowing. Georgia makes a sound of either surprise or disgust, I’m not sure. “I’ll bend you over and show you a goddamn spanking.”

Okay, now I know for sure that Georgia is gagging. She makes a mock vomiting sound as Brooks keeps his eyes on mine, narrowing them in response. He clenches his teeth and stands up, acting like he didn’t just threaten to spank me.

Marlowe is standing on the other side of the table now, my cat draped around his shoulders like a mink stole. She’s making biscuits on his massive shoulder.

“The cat distribution system is officially broken,” I murmur, and somehow that stupid sentence diffuses a lot of the tension in the room. I turn to Georgia, expression set, hand clenched tightly around my mug. “I’m sorry that I let that happen to you, the memory loss thing. I should’ve tried harder to stop them.”

“Kate, you also just learned that magic exists. You’re not an expert, and I don’t blame you for not knowing all the rules.” Georgia finishes just as Tanner waltzes in with a dead … not-rabbit slung over his shoulder. Blood drips down his chest, and he looks entirely wild and unfit for polite company.

Holy shit.

“Georgia’s been seeing the Hag,” I explain to Brooks, doing my best to keep my voice steady. There’s a liquid heat inside of me, something coiled and clenched. I want to come unfurled around these men—around my coven. I want blood to drip from my chest, and I want a quick, hot fuck on the kitchen table without having to talk about it first.

How do I facilitate us getting to that point?

“Form a coven.” Brooks pours himself some coffee as Tanner picks up his mug and heads outside again. He hangs the animal from the old clothesline rod out back and uses a knife from his belt to dress it down.

In my backyard. With a bow slung over his shoulder. Barefoot. Shirtless.

“How big of a commitment is this?” Georgia asks, ever the shrewd one in our friend group. If she’d been in the Witchwoods instead of me, I’m not sure that she’d have made the same choices. I have this niggling suspicion that she would’ve demanded to cast all the spells the hard way. As in, no sex. She definitely would’ve kicked these men to the curb as soon as she exited the tree. “Are we stuck with each other forever? I’ve noticed you barely let Kate walk into another room. Or is that just your abusive tendencies coming out?”

Brooks cuts a grapefruit in half, plates it, and spoons some sugar over the top. He drops the plate down in front of me with a spoon beside it.

“Eat.” He looks at Georgia over my head. “If you want to cast big magic then yes, you’ll need to stay in close proximity to one another. If all you care to do is cast a protection spell so that you don’t get eaten by the Hag, then so be it. You won’t have a North anyway, so you’ll be limited from the get-go.”

A North.

My mind slips to the teenage girl from the farmer’s market, and I nibble at my thumbnail in thought. No, no way. Don’t get that poor girl involved with this mess.

The Hag Wytch is definitely interested in our coven. I wasn’t sure at first, but I am now. Why lure my friends to the Witchwoods when, if all she wanted to do was eat, she could’ve sung her lullaby for anybody? She could’ve easily eaten the two police officers, too. They’ve been in the woods for weeks without the protection of the cottage.

“It’s a huge commitment—even a non-sexual agreement is binding.” Marlowe wets his lips and then sits down in the chair across from me, stirring his iced coffee with a metal straw. He looks up and our eyes meet and, for whatever reason, I want to believe him. I want to believe that he really would let me go, that he’d sacrifice his chances of escaping the Witchwoods in order to protect me. Just like with Tanner, only time can make an honest man out of him. Or a liar. Time could do that, too. “We’re working on closing the gate ourselves. Just keep those hag stones on you and deal with it until it’s done. If I were you, I sure as hell wouldn’t start a coven with someone I wasn’t close to or in love with.”

He takes a sip of his drink, reaching up with his free hand to scritch my cat on her biting head. She nips his fingers, and he almost smiles. So … he likes to be bitten? I shake my head and close my eyes, refocusing myself.

“He’s right: we’re almost there. How many days would you guys say we have left?” I open my eyes again, grudgingly picking up my spoon and digging into the grapefruit. He doesn’t like me, but he’s feeding me? He doesn’t like me, but he wants to spank me? Brooks and I might be having miscommunication issues as well.

Great. Good to know. All I have to do is be the bigger person, flay my chest open, and expose my raw, bloody heart in order to clear up our misunderstanding. He thinks I don’t like them touching me. What an idiot.

“A week,” Brooks replies easily, pausing as Tanner comes in and pulls a cast-iron skillet out from the drawer beneath the stove. He tosses in some olive oil and then … a few small steaks. Nice and fresh.

“Steak and eggs sound good to everyone?” he calls out over his shoulder, smirking when he sees the grapefruit in front of me. “I’m not a chef, but I’m a damn good hunter. I’ll keep you fed, kitten.”

Our gazes lock as I slip a ruby red triangle of grapefruit between my lips. Citrus and sugar on my tongue. Bitterness. I swallow and then wet my lips.

“I’m not eating an animal from another world.” Georgia stands up, draining her wineglass. “Thanks, but no thanks. You think you’ll be able to bind this gate, and it’ll all be over?” She doesn’t sound like she believes that.

“No.” That’s Brooks again. “Marlowe is optimistic, always has been. It won’t be that easy, I’m sure.”

I see Tanner’s dark frown before he turns back to the stove. I catch Marlowe’s violent scowl. Brooks turns all the way around to face us, a spoon in his hand, a piece of grapefruit sitting on it. He slips it into his mouth and savors it while staring at me. I try my best not to think about him coming all over my tits.

Doesn’t work.

I’m thinking about it. He’s thinking about it. I shift and my thighs rub together, nerve endings on fire.

“What do you think, Kate?” Georgia asks, focused on me instead of the guys. I appreciate that.

I give the question some thought, the sound of sizzling … Witchwoods something cooking on the stove. It smells surprisingly good. I figure I’ve already eaten mystical creature stew in another world, so why not indulge in this, too?

“I don’t know enough to say,” I admit, because it’s true. When it comes to navigating the human world, I’m best equipped to make decisions for the group. When it comes to the Witchwoods and the Hag? I have to defer to the guys, much as it pains me. “But Marlowe is right: forming a coven is a big deal. It’s like … getting married.”

Georgia’s eyebrow twitches, and her disapproving stare sweeps the men in the room with us. She’s having trouble concealing her disdain.

“It only feels like getting married if you’re sexually attracted to the person in your coven.” Marlowe leans back, crossing his arms and ignoring the frantic biscuit-making that’s taking place on the shoulder of his hoodie. Stix, you are dead to me. Both of my pets are traitors. “Sexually attracted and you like their personality.”

He stares right at me when he says that, and I stare right back.

Tanner cracks some eggs into the pan as Ebon reappears, perching on my shoulder instead of his. My dog trots in after, curling at his feet. Brooks is, well, Brooks.

“I imagine that for you, it’d feel like binding yourself to sisters or something.” Brooks shrugs, like it doesn’t matter much to him either way. “Marlowe and Tanner are like comrades to me. I might not like them, but I’d die for them.”

“Please. I’m your best friend.” Tanner plates three eggs and the largest steak, setting it down in front of me. I’m not sure that I can eat all of that, but I appreciate the thought. “We get along great.”

“When you follow orders, we get along well, yes.” Brooks sets his coffee aside. “Do whatever you want, but I highly encourage you to form a coven. If we want it done quick, we’ll need a sacrifice. We can provide one for you, but—”

“A sacrifice?” Georgia and I ask at the same time.

“Could you clarify that for us?” I add, giving him a look. “A sacrifice? Like … the snake that I killed?”

Brooks snorts, accepting a plate of food from Tanner.

“Thank you.” He surreptitiously adds some salt and pepper which I find amusing. “No, not like a snake, Kate. Like a person.”

I choke on my coffee as Georgia laughs. Nice that she finds the idea of human sacrifice funny.

“Well, that seals the deal for me.” Georgia smiles, but it’s one of her double-edged smiles that means business. “I’ll wait and remain cautiously optimistic. I’m not ready to commit homicide, thank you very much.”

“We’ll provide the sacrifice,” Brooks repeats, picking up the coffeepot and refilling my mug. Um. What? I give him a look because I’m nothing if not suspicious. He doesn’t like me, but he refills my coffee? It’s starting to look like I can reform these witchy stalkers into proper boyfriends. “Somebody who has it coming, some kid diddler or something.”

“We can use a truth charm, make sure he’s guilty before we off him. A guilt-free human sacrifice.” Tanner gives Marlowe a plate of food and then cocks his head in Georgia’s direction. “Last chance for breakfast.”

“I’m good, thanks.” She turns to me and takes both of my hands in hers. “We’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, yeah?” I nod and she smiles, moving over to the sink to pour the rest of her wine down the drain. She checks her phone. “Tacy is outside, but I’ll meet her in the driveway. Let you guys get to work. The Pink Lady looks amazing, by the way. Drove by it this morning.”

Georgia plants a kiss on my forehead which gives me all the warm fuzzies, and then she waves over her shoulder as she makes her way to the front door and steps outside.

The tension thickens like fog off the bay.

“Kate.” It’s Brooks. Commanding. Rude. Demanding my attention. He storms over, yanks my chair from the table, and turns it so that I’m facing him. One hand on either side, strong, corded arms pressed against my shoulders, eyes fixed on my own. I refuse to take a breath because then my chest might expand, and I might end up touching him. “I like you.” He takes a breath for us both, closing his eyes. Chest expanding. Lips brushing my hair and, through his shirt, just one hard nipple brushing my cheek.

I exhale even further, emptying myself completely.

Then, next, as if the words are physically painful to him: “I like you very much.”