16. Wisteria

Iwake up the next morning in my own bed, feeling thoroughly as if I've been pummeled by a blunt object. Which technically, I have–the blunt object in question being attached to the man back at the Silver Lake Lodge whose bed I finally left in the very early hours of the morning.

He fucked me in the shower, making me come twice more before he finally pulled out and finished himself off against the tiles, and then, as I was about to get dressed afterwards and head home, I ended up on the bed again.

He was insatiable. But then again, so was I. Even now, blinking awake to the sunlight streaming through my curtains in my own room, I can feel the stirrings of desire again.

I roll over, burying my face in my pillow. My entire body aches. Between my thighs, I feel more bruised than the morning after I had sex for the first time. And I need to be at the shop in an hour.

I could text Penelope and tell her I'm not coming in today, and to just work on the inventory of everything.It's tempting. I could soak in a hot epsom salt bath, curl up in a pile of blankets, read a book or catch up on a show or any number of things that I haven't indulged in for a while. After all, I am the boss now. I can take a sick day if I want–but I know I shouldn't. It looks bad for me to already stay home when I've barely been running the shop for a few days–not even running it, really. We're not even open. I've just been taking stock of things and learning how to run it.

With a groan, I sit up, running a hand through my tangled hair. I washed it in the shower, only for Eli to tumble me so thoroughly across the bed after that it dried in an absolute mess once I got home.

Eli.A warmth fills my chest at the memory of the day before. It hadn't gone at all how I'd expected. I hadn't expected it to be romantic at all–I'd gone into the afternoon eyes wide open, expecting a hookup as blunt and to the point as any sexual encounter I've ever had before.

But it wasn't anything like that. Eli wasn't what I expected, either. And in the moments when softness peeked out from behind his rough exterior, I saw someone who I actually like. Someone who can be gentle, thoughtful, even, who clearly has a past I don't understand but that has kept him from letting others see those glimpses of softness. I'm not sure why I'm the one who managed to peer into those cracks, but I saw someone entirely different from any other man I've ever known.

Someone I'd like to know better.

Someone who volunteered the truth about himself when I've still kept mine a secret.

Guilt floods through me, making my stomach tighten on an anxious cramp. I'd promised myself that I'd tell him the truth before anything happened between us, but I didn't. And now, I don't know how I can tell him without it seeming as if I'm lying intentionally. Especially when he came clean about being a shifter, giving me the perfect opportunity to ‘fess up to being a witch. Him admitting that he should have told me first even gave me the perfect window to get away with not having said something before–I should have told you this, too, but everything got away from me. I'm a witch, but it doesn't mean anything when it comes to us, the superstitions aren't true–

But I didn't say anything, and now it's not a mistake or an oversight any longer. It's on purpose.

What I should do is come clean anyway, or if I can't do that, just cancel our second date. But the moment I think of not seeing him again, of telling him that last night was fun, but we can't do it again, I feel a jolt of pain in my chest that makes me catch my breath. It physically hurts, as if not seeing him again could be an actual injury.

I've never felt this way about anyone, and it scares me a little.

It's an infatuation, that's it,I tell myself as I pry myself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, taking a look at my rumpled appearance before turning on the hot water to take another shower. Washing my hair again and blow-drying it is probably the only thing that's going to save me at this point.

I text Penelope when I get out of the shower, letting her know I might be running a little late. That's fine, I'll just start on the inventory! is the cheery response that I get back, and I send her a thumbs-up, tossing my phone on the bed as I start to get dressed.

Allof me aches. The shower helped, but I wince as I pull on a pair of loose black sweatpants, my hips complaining with every motion. I feel soreness in places that I never knew it was possible before.

I pull on a heather grey long-sleeved shirt, shoving it up to my elbows and scraping my hair up into a loose bun on top of my head. There's nothing particularly attractive about my outfit, but no one is going to see me except Penelope, and right now I care more about comfort than anything else.

What is Eli doing right now?The thought springs into my mind as I walk into the kitchen, going through the motions of making coffee and sprinkling granola into a bowl of yogurt. He's probably getting breakfast in the lodge's dining room, and it strikes me as oddly sad. From what it sounded like, he's lived his whole life this way–moving from place to place, subsisting on hotel meals and takeout, never staying in the same spot for very long. It sounds like a very lonely existence.

Or maybe one that he's chosen for himself.I chide myself a little as I sink down at the table, wincing once again. I barely know him–I can't project emotions onto him that I'm not even sure are accurate. For all I know, he doesn't want any other kind of life. It's not as if he were forced into it–he's been around for over three decades, and he could certainly have changed his lifestyle on his own if he wanted to.

And I'm not going to be the one to change him. Not that I want to, I reassure myself hurriedly, spooning yogurt into my mouth and chasing it with too-hot coffee. Last night was a fun experience, and one we're planning on repeating, but not one that's going anywhere. Eventually Eli will move on, both from me and from Bayton, and I'll stay here in the new life that I'm creating for myself.

Unexpectedly, I feel that pang again, as if something were tearing inside my chest at the thought. I swallow the rest of my coffee, doing my best to ignore it. Eli fucked me senseless last night, so it's only natural that I'd feel some attachment the next day. I've never been very good at one-night-stands. But that doesn't mean I have to give in to the ridiculous emotion.

I call an Uber to go to the shop–I don't think I can walk the whole way after last night–and it's that same silver sedan. I can't quite get over it–I'm so used to the city, where you'd never see the same Uber driver twice, but here this one kid is apparently Bayton's whole taxi service.

"What made you decide to do this?" I ask him curiously once I'm settled into the backseat, waving my hand to indicate the car. "Do you just like driving people around?"

The kid shrugs, pulling out of my driveway and out to the road. "I'm saving money for college. And there's so many tourists from everywhere, it's interesting to hear where they're from and why they're here."

"Why do they usually say they're here? I run the apothecary in town–Helpful Herbs," I add quickly. "It's good to know what customers might be looking for."

He shrugs again, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. "Something magical, most of the time. They want to interact with shifters, or witches, or other species that they only read about in fantasy books in their real world."

"Those exist out in the ‘real' world, too." I bite my lip, thinking of all the years I spent in Seattle, pretending to be mundane. To be something acceptable. Something tightens in my chest when I remember how Eli still doesn't know. How I can't bring myself to tell him, because even here, I'm afraid of losing something on account of what I am.

No matter how brief it might be, I've found something magical here. And I'm still afraid of losing it.

"I know." The kid refocuses his gaze on the road ahead of us. "But they don't seem to get that. They think we're all just located here, like a magical safari for them to explore at their leisure."

There's a touch of bitterness in his voice, and I look at him, wondering what he is. What thing he'll have to hide, in order to go out into the world and live out whatever dreams have encouraged him to drive tourists around his hometown. I look at him a little more closely than I have before, and I see a glimpse of pointed ears, peeking underneath his long-ish brown hair.

Elven, then. A pang grips my chest–he'll have surgery then, before he goes to college, to take away the points. Most elven-kind don't go out into the world for exactly that reason, although I've met one or two. One half-elven girl was at the support group I went to in Seattle–her ears had been badly cropped, and I saw a glimpse of the scars.

"You could stay here, you know," I venture. The thought of it hurts my heart–it can't be undone. It's not like a shifter trying to conceal their nature, or me keeping my magic a secret. He'll have to remove a part of himself that can never be replaced.

He shoots me a look in the rearview mirror, one that tells me I've overstepped. He says nothing, and I know the conversation is finished.

The silver sedan pulls up next to the sidewalk, and I slide out, adding to my tip in the app as I close the door behind me. I can see Penelope already inside, a pen tucked in her messy blonde bun as she looks at a list on the counter, and I unlock the door and step inside.

She looks up immediately, a bright smile wreathing her face. "You look tired," she says, and then winces. "Sorry. I mean–you look fine. Just–"

"I know what you mean." I give her a lopsided smile, retreating to the back of the counter with my own list. I am tired, and the chat with the Uber driver brought my mood down more than a little. It's a stark reminder that while I've insulated myself in a place where I no longer have to fear others knowing what I am, the world at large has remained the same.

Except when it comes to the man you're sleeping with, apparently. You're still afraid of him knowing what you are.

But every time I imagine telling him, all I can see is a vision of his handsome face contorting in horror as he backs away from me, every moment we've had together suddenly colored with regret and marred by him wondering if I cast some spell over him, instead of him truly wanting me.

"Wisteria." The sound of Penelope saying my name several minutes later breaks through my thoughts, spoken as if she had said it more than once. I look up quickly, and see that she's standing there with her head cocked, a faintly amused and quizzical expression on her face. "What were you up to last night? You look like you're a million miles away."

Reflexively, my hand goes to my neck, wondering if Eli left a hickey or beard burn there. Penelope laughs, a delighted giggle as she sets the list down.

"Okay, spill," she says, crossing her arms over her thin black sweater, under her small breasts. "It must have been good, to have you acting like this."

"You barely know me," I murmur crossly, standing up from behind the counter. Crouching down and going through the understock of bagged and dried herbs has my sore hips screaming at me. "Maybe I'm always like this."

"I know people." Penelope shakes her head. "I'm very attuned to them, that's what makes me a good divination witch. And I know very well that this isn't how you usually are. The way you've been all the other days we've been here at the shop is how you usually are. I think I'd be able to figure that out even if I weren't a witch."

You're my employee, so it's none of your business.The part of me that's a little crabby and very guilty nearly lets that slip, but I bite my tongue, taking a breath. That's not the kind of shop I want to run, where there's that kind of distance between us. I'd rather be friends with Penelope, especially considering the fact that I don't have any friends here yet. The idea of having a friend here running the shop with me has been an alluring one since the first day I found out she worked here, and I don't want to ruin that just because my mood is all over the place today.

Penelope narrows her eyes at me. "Is it him? That shifter guy who came in here the other day? The one with the broody eyes and the drawl and–"

"Yes." The word comes out before I can stop myself, because a part of me wants to talk about it. I feel confused and distraught and anxious and excited all at once, and surely it's better to air all of that out with someone instead of keeping it locked in my head, churning around endlessly. "We went on a hike yesterday."

"A hike." Penelope rolls the word around in her mouth, as if testing it for some double meaning. "Is this a euphemism I'm not aware of, or–"

That does make me laugh. "No, we really went on a hike."

Penelope makes a little hmm sound behind her lips, still eyeing me. She sets down the list, crossing over to the counter where I'm standing and hoisting herself onto the edge of it with a quick, graceful movement that I'm very sure I could never replicate. But I'll also never be as lithe and graceful as she is, either. "So how did this happen?" she asks curiously. "Because when he came in here and you asked him out for a drink, he said he ‘wasn't the datin' type' and left on that note." She over-emphasizes Eli's drawl, deepening her voice, and my cheeks flush as I choke back a giggle at that.

Something warm unfurls in my chest. I'd been hesitant to open up to Penelope because I've never been able to open up to anyone. I've never had a real friend, someone who could know everything about me and still stay my friend. Even the others at the support group were there to unload their own misery, not forge connections with someone else outside of that musty room. But I realize that if I let myself, I can have a real friend here. She's clearly trying to be exactly that, and I only have myself to blame if I can't relax enough to let it happen.

"I went to the Howling Moon that night," I admit. "And asked him out again. I told him it was fine if he didn't want anything serious, that I didn't either. And he agreed to go out, but said he didn't really want to do dinner or drinks, that working in a bar five to six nights a week made that unappealing. So he invited me to go on a hike in the woods with him. Behind Silver Lake Lodge."

Penelope presses her lips together in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing. "So you went out into the woods, with a shifter who was basically a stranger, and who made it very clear he just wanted to fuck you and nothing else?"

I roll my eyes at her. "I did realize the situation around the time that I showed up to the lodge. But I didn't think he meant me any harm." I hesitate. "He didn't tell me he was a shifter, at first. I only knew because you said."

Penelope frowns. "Did you tell him that you're a witch?"

I shake my head, that guilt churning in my stomach again. "I was going to, when I went to the bar. When I asked him. But I–I couldn't."

"Why not?" Penelope's voice is gentle.

"Because I wanted it. I wanted him. And I couldn't stand the thought of him rejecting me once he found out." I can hear the guilt and misery in my voice, with it out there like that now, point-blank and hanging in the air between us. "I know that makes me a terrible person."

"Not terrible. It's understandable. Probably not advisable, but if you were only going to see each other once–" Penelope pauses. "When did he tell you that he's a shifter?"

"In bed. After," I mumble, my cheeks heating. I can't quite meet her eyes–I've never had a friend to gossip about things like this with before, and it feels a little awkward.

"Hm. So he kept that under wraps too, until he'd gotten you in bed."

"He said he meant to, but he–we–got overwhelmed." My face is flaming now. "In the woods. And then once we got back to the lodge–"

"You fucked in the woods!" Penelope almost crows, her eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. "Okay, you have to tell me everything."

"We didn't–we just fooled around. In the woods, I mean."

"What do you mean, fooled around?" Penelope's gaze narrows, and that's the moment I realize that she's going to want to know every detail that I'm willing to give.

It's a little embarrassing, but also oddly freeing. It feels good, having someone to talk this out with. To get it all out of my head before I drive myself insane.

"He–" I gesture downwards with my hand. "To me."

"Fingers? Tongue?" Penelope laughs with delight when I stare at her mutely. "He ate you out in the woods? God, I need to find a boyfriend like that."

"He's not–" I let out a breath, rubbing my hands over my face. "It was supposed to be a one-time thing."

"Supposed to be?"

I bite my lip, glancing at her. "It was–nothing went the way I expected it to. I figured the hike was going to be brief, just something for him to make it seem like he wasn't only trying to get me in bed–put some respectable polish on the whole thing, I guess, even though we both knew what it was. But then we got out there, and–"

"And what?" Penelope presses, leaning towards me. It's clear that she's fully invested in all of this.

"There was a blanket. And a picnic lunch. By a lake. It was all very romantic. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, actually."

Penelope frowns. "Like he wanted it to be a date? But he said–"

"I know. The thing is–" I lean forward with my arms on the countertop, looking across the shop to where Eli was standing, just a couple of days ago. Where he told me he had no interest in dating anyone. "It seemed like–like the entire time, he was as confused by his own actions as I was. Like he'd done all of it without really understanding why, like some kind of compulsion. He said he'd never been on a date with anyone," I add. "That he always just goes from town to town, hooks up with whoever crosses his path, and then keeps moving. It was like that was the first time he'd ever done that, and he wasn't even sure why he was doing it."

"I don't know if that's sad or romantic, or just weird." Penelope looks at me pensively. "That sounds like an exciting life, though. I don't know–maybe he really likes you, and wanted to impress you without realizing it."

"He said he wanted to see me again." I bite my lip. "I get the impression that's not a usual thing for him. Making plans like that."

"Are you going to tell him?" Penelope raises an eyebrow. "Before you go on another not-date?"

"How can I?" I look at her helplessly. "The time to tell him was when he confessed to being a shifter, when he said that he should have told me beforehand but was letting me know before anything else happened. That was my cue to say that I'm a witch. But I didn't, and now it feels like I'm intentionally keeping something from him."

"You are," Penelope says bluntly. "Which is no way to start a relationship."

"It's not a relationship." I can hear the defensiveness in my own voice. "It'll be one more time, and then we probably won't see each other again, not like that. He's not even staying in Bayton."

Penelope gives me a disbelieving look. "Wisteria, I saw you walk in here today. That man railed you so hard you can barely walk. You're glowing like you got a Hollywood beauty treatment but your mood is all over the place. You have all the hallmarks of having gotten amazing dick without knowing how long you're going to keep getting it. You can't tell me that you're going to fuck that gorgeous mountain of a man one more time and then stay out of his bed while he's still in town. And it sounds like he feels the same way about you, if he's making plans he doesn't usually make." She cocks her head. "How long is he staying for?"

I shrug, feeling a little disheartened. "I don't know. He didn't say, just that he's planning on moving on eventually. Probably not all that long, based on how things have gone for him before."

"So it could be months."

"Maybe. But I doubt it."

"But you don't know." Penelope presses the point, and I let out a sigh.

"Why does it matter?"

"You really think one more time will be enough?"

Truthfully, I know she's right. I think of the night before, of Eli's body above mine, behind mine, of all the ways he touched me and all of the things we still haven't done, and I can imagine that one more night might not be enough for either of us. The warmth in my face increases, and Penelope nods sagely, as if I've answered something for her.

"Even if it is enough," she says gently, "if he stays in town for longer than another week or so, you're going to keep running into each other. And people talk. They'll get to know you, and they'll talk about you. He's going to find out eventually."

"I can't–what if he hates me? Especially now that we've slept together and I haven't told him–"

"Is it better for him to hate you after the fact? When it's over? Will that make it easier?"

Yes. No. "I don't know," I whisper, because I truly don't. All I know is that the thought of seeing disgust on Eli's face when he looks at me makes me feel sick. The thought of him rejecting me makes my eyes burn, and it reminds me of why I probably should never have done this in the first place. I'm not built for this kind of thing, for something so casual.

But now that I've started with him, I don't want it to end yet.

"He obviously felt comfortable enough with you to share what he was," Penelope points out. "If he had reason to think that you didn't know after you'd already had sex, then he had reason to think he could have hidden it if he wanted to."

At this point, I feel sure that my face is going to be a permanent shade of red. "So you know, then. About their–"

Penelope laughs. "Their knots? Yes, of course. All shifters have something interesting going on down there. That's the wolf shifters' claim to fame."

A part of me still can't believe we're having this conversation, and the other part can't help but be wildly curious. "Have you ever–"

"Fucked a wolf shifter? Or a shifter in general?" Penelope's smile is devious, and now I'm sure that my blush is permanent. "No to the first, yes to the second. The knots scare me a little, to be honest. Some women are really into it–but if he decides to try to go all the way with it–"

I can feel how wide my eyes get. "What do you mean?" I have a sudden memory of Eli buried inside of me last night, pressed so tightly against me that it felt almost as if–

There's no way. That's not physically possible.

Penelope's face gets that particular look, the one that someone has when they're about to explain a topic to you at length that they know a lot about. "You know shifters have like–mating cycles tied to the moon, right?"

"Vaguely. I didn't spend a lot of time reading up on shifter reproductive habits." I frown at her. "I don't think that really applies to Eli and I, though–"

"I mean–" Penelope laughs, shrugging. "It's just a drive, like anything else having to do with sex. For them, it's tied to the moon. Right before and the day of, they're ravenous. Any time male and female shifters are together, there's a possibility she's getting knotted if she's down for it–but right before and the day of the full moon, it's just about impossible for a male shifter to stop himself. It–locks them together. They'll be stuck like that until he's come enough times for it to soften, and then they'll be able to part again."

I stare at her, a sudden warmth uncoiling deep in my stomach and spreading through me at the thought. It sounds terrifying, based on what I saw when Eli was naked with me last night–and also incredibly hot. The idea of being that close to him, locked together, fucking over and over with that kind of driving unquenchable need–

A shiver runs down my spine. "And you've never done it?" I whisper.

Penelope shakes her head emphatically, like I just asked her if she wants to go run a marathon tomorrow. "Absolutely fucking not. Human women can't take a knot. Female shifters during that part of the moon cycle have a natural way of their bodies changing, making it so that they can. There's pheremones involved, all of that kind of thing. And if there's a mate bond, an alpha wolf's bite can cause some sort of natural response–make it even easier for her to take it. But a human woman would be ripped apart. It's just not possible."

There's absolutely no reason for me to feel the sudden wash of disappointment that runs over my skin. From what Penelope said, it sounds like an intimate thing. Something that wouldn't even come up for Eli and I. But the idea that it's impossible makes my chest ache for some inexplicable reason.

"Mate bond?" I focus instead on questions, on trying to understand the rest of this. That's one of those things I've vaguely heard about, but once again, don't have any real knowledge of. "That definitely doesn't sound like something Eli would want." I laugh wryly, trying to make light of the whole thing. I hadn't really realized, until this conversation, just how much of a divide there is between him and I.

"Oh, if he's the kind of drifter he sounds like, he's definitely never bonded with anyone like that. Shifter mate bonds are supposed to be for life. Usually it's more of a ceremonial thing–you know, like a human wedding. That's where the whole knotting thing comes in, even though some wolves do that with women who aren't their mates. And the alpha bite, which I don't think anyone does unless they want to bond. But supposedly–" Penelope leans closer, as if she's imparting some secret, "supposedly there's a type of mate bond with shifters that's unavoidable. It's not a decision, and it can't be reversed. It just–happens, and the two people involved in it can't stay away from each other. They're insatiable, ravenous. If they try to avoid it, it's like–I don't know. The worst heartbreak you've ever felt, apparently. It ruins you forever for anyone else. But again–all of that only happens between shifters."

"How do you know all of this?" I lean back against the counter, feeling overwhelmed. There's a lot about it that I didn't know. And it sounds as if it's a good thing that neither Eli nor I want anything serious–because how could it ever be? All of the things that it seems are important to a shifter in a relationship would be impossible for he and I. If he wanted love, he'd find someone compatible with him. This is just lust.

It feels like both a relief and a disappointment to realize it.

Penelope shrugs. "I've lived in Bayton Heights for a long time. I thought it was interesting. And truthfully–having a romantic run-in with a shifter made me really curious about all of it. So now you know."

"Now I know." I echo it quietly. "You said there's a cycle–what's it like right after the moon?"

"Apparently their libidos drop right after. It's like a frenzy the day of and twenty-four hours after the full moon, and then it goes back to normal, maybe even less." She grins wickedly at me. "He must have really been into you, to be so wild that he left you practically limping the next day."

"He was." I look out of the window, feeling suddenly strange about all of it. Eli had been ravenous last night, like he couldn't get enough of me, like he couldn't stop. Like it took everything in him to let me leave, when just days before he'd said he wasn't interested in anything more than a quick fling. I've never had anyone want me like that. It was intoxicating.

But also, apparently strange for a shifter this time of the month.

Maybe he's just more virile than most. Or maybe you're just really his type. I find that hard to believe, but maybe that's just my own self-worth talking.

"So when are you going to see him again?" Penelope asks, and I feel that tug of anticipation in my chest, despite all of this.

"I'm not sure. We didn't set a date. Just–soon, I think."

"And are you going to tell him?" she presses, and I wrap my arms around myself, feeling that quiver of anxiety again.

"I don't know." My voice is quiet. "Does it really matter? All that stuff you just told me means that we're incompatible in every way romantically. Even if he wasn't someone who has no intention of getting wrapped up in a relationship, all of that makes it sound impossible."

Penelope made a scoffing sound. "It's not impossible. It just means some things can't happen."

"Those sound pretty important. An entire physical element of their sex life? A bond that is like their version of marriage? Why would anyone get into a relationship with someone when it completely removes an entire part of their potential–"

"Slooow down." Penelope throws up her hands, shaking her head at me. "Just because you're in a relationship doesn't mean it's going to be forever, or that you're headed for marriage. It just means you're having fun for a while."

I bite my lip. "That's the problem. What if I start to fall for him? I don't think I'm very good at the no-strings attached thing. And if I don't tell him–"

"That's why you should." Penelope huffs out a sigh. "He'll understand. If he's hesitant at first, he'll see eventually that all of that stuff about why shifters should fear witches is just old superstition. Surely he's smarter than that. It's all nonsense. And if he was nervous about telling you the truth, he'll understand why you're anxious to tell him."

I nod slowly. "Maybe. But there's no eventually about it. It's just one more time."

Penelope snorts, turning back to her list. "Sure. On that note, what should I order for lunch?"

She doesn't press the issue again, and we spend the rest of the afternoon doing busy work, getting ready to re-open the shop in two days. But my stomach is still in knots, a mingle of anxiety and anticipatory butterflies, my thoughts a tangle of everything Penelope told me.

One thing is clear–ultimately, Eli and I are incompatible. But we were never supposed to last.

And I don't want this to stop until it absolutely has to.