Chapter 1

Kate

My eyelids are heavy when I try to pry them apart, but the urge to wake is stirring in my lower belly. I’m groaning and biting into a pillow as I come to, already halfway—or most of the way—to an orgasm.

Tanner is on top of me, pounding into my pussy from behind. I’m on my stomach with his palms pressed flat to the mattress on either side of my head, his knees against the outsides of my thighs. My legs are pressed firmly together, his strong form straddling them, locking me in place.

I’m tight. I’m so tight. But so wet.

It feels so good.

I’m staring at his right hand, my cheek half-buried in the soft, clean lavender-scented sheets (that’d be Brooks’ doing). Tanner’s fingers dig into the floral pattern, wrinkling it, clutching it with ink-slashed digits.

He’s sweaty from fucking me, and I love it, his hardness and his heat.

“You told me to be selfish, Kate,” he whispers, body curled over mine so he can press a kiss to my lips. It’s fleeting, and I want more. I clench my own hands, the sharp claws at the ends of my fingers a match to the ones on his.

Just two witches in heat.

“This is you being selfish?” I whisper back, just before Tanner slides first one hand and then the other over to grab mine. He curls our fingers together. “Fucking me awake? Because it’s what I want, too.”

His laugh ripples through him and into the shadow on the wall, whipping its double tails around to encircle the room. My own shadow is underneath me, her horns curving over the pillows scattered above my head; they’re a tumbled mess from all the shaking.

“No, this is me being selfish.” Tanner grabs onto my shoulder to hold himself in place as he rams into me so hard that the headboard slams against the wall. My eyes start to roll back from pleasure, and then with a shudder and a curse, Tanner plunges deep and comes. His witch nails dig into my shoulder, leaving small pricks of red in their wake.

Tanner rolls off of me and lands on his back to my right, laughing. He has one arm over his eyes, blocking out the light. Or my wide-eyed expression. Probably that.

“You’re not … going to leave me like this, are you?” I whisper, but he just shakes his head. Panting. Wet all around his hips and thighs. It’s hard not to look at the shimmer across his pelvic bone that’s either sweat or cum or me. Ugh. He asked me if I liked assholes. I was curious if he might try to roleplay as one.

“Good morning, Kate.” Tanner’s words are a husky rasp, his beautiful lips curved at the edges in a knowing smile. He’s leaving me to sweat it out on purpose, his seed dripping down my thighs as my body clenches in frustration around nothing.

“Good morning,” I say it softly, watching him carefully as he slides his arm away from his eyes. If he doesn’t want to finish me, that’s okay. It’s fine. I can take care of myself. My hand slinks down the sheets in search of my clit, but he grabs my wrist before I can get there.

“What do you remember from last night?” Tanner asks me, face serious all of a sudden. My stomach cramps from the intensity of my need as I shift in discomfort. His attention moves down, over the scoop of my ass and the way my right knee is splayed out, touching him.

“The three of you in the hot tub.” I blush. That was fun. Really fun. It was … wow. Then I passed out in hot water and steam and that’s it. “The drive home is a blur.” I pause for a minute, shifting my thighs and watching Tanner’s throat move as he swallows.

He releases my wrist and runs his hand down his neck, still staring at me from eyes of ice and fog. I maintain my original position: I’m probably lucky that Marlowe’s the one that found me in the woods.

“Would you have assaulted me?” I ask Tanner, and it’s hard to get the words out. Especially since what I really want is more sex. But the question comes out of nowhere, and I can’t seem to feel sorry that I asked it. If he’s going to be honest with me, now’s my chance to find out. “If you’d found me in the woods instead of Marlowe.”

Tanner frowns, dropping his hand to the bed.

“I would’ve thrown you over my shoulder and walked you back to the house, kitten.”

My own hand continues its southerly direction across the sheets, but Tanner doesn’t stop me this time. I pause with my arm by my side, not bothering to sneak my hand under to find my clit. I’m still hoping that he’s going to take care of me, that he can’t resist the urge.

There’s this fierce desire in Tanner to possess me, a hunger that’s more fervent than anything I’ve seen in him before.

It’s in the tense set of his shoulders, the way he works his jaw, the dilation of his pupils.

It’s in his shadow as it drifts over my skin like black fog.

“And then what?” I whisper, and Tanner flicks his tongue against the corner of his lip. He doesn’t like this conversation, but he’s willing to have it. A dash of gray morning light turns the scar on his face silver.

“Trapped you there, waited for you to talk.” He gets up onto all-fours and crawls back over me, his heat making me shudder in relief. I needed him here. Wanted him here so badly. “Wasn’t an option with Marlowe. He would’ve bitten his own tongue off and swallowed it if he didn’t think I might kill his friends.”

I never asked about Marlowe.

Tanner nudges my legs apart with his knees and thrusts into me, a satisfied sigh escaping him when my ass comes up and pushes aggressively back against his hips.

“You think I’m any less stubborn?” I pant as he curls his fingers around my hip and rolls his body against mine. It’s wet and loud and it’s good.

“You would’ve started talking to me.” Tanner takes my hair in his fist, tugging on the black and orange braid until I rise up on my palms. I brace myself as he fucks me, sweeter than he means to be. “You didn’t care half as much as he did about getting back here.”

That’s the end of the conversation. He tightens his grip on both my hair and my hip, working himself inside of me until he comes a second time. I squeeze my eyes shut, convinced he’s going to leave again.

He doesn’t.

He keeps his dick seated inside of me, reaching under me and using the mixed liquid from our bodies as lube to touch me.

I bite onto the sheets as Tanner rocks his hips, working his fingers against my clit as he nips gently against the side of my neck. His stubble rubs over my skin, making me moan and writhe under him.

Waking up now is nothing like it was before I went into the Witchwoods.

My entire life has changed.

“Make me come, Tanner.” I grind hard against him, and he drags his hips against my ass, holding his pelvis tight to mine. He murmurs encouragement as I pant and stretch and wriggle underneath him.

“You’re doing so fucking well, Kate. You’re incredible at this. A natural. You know how to be fucked as well as I know how to fuck. I don’t say that lightly, kitten. You hear me? You’re perfect wrapped around me like that.”

It’s his words more than anything else that get me. I’m huffing sharper, brighter, louder breaths.

And then it’s over.

I’m digging my teeth into the pillow, eyelids fluttering, muscles quivering all over. I collapse under Tanner, and he follows me down to the mattress, bracing himself on his forearms as I shake and tremble beneath him.

He rides out every last second of my climactic aftershocks.

I turn onto my back and he lets me go, but not by a lot. He stays where he is, posted on all-fours above me. A bead of sweat drips from his nose and hits me in the breast, sliding down my nipple. We both make a sound at the sight of it.

“That was wonderful,” I admit with a happy flush, and he offers me a very accommodating smile in return. Tanner drops his face to the side of my neck and kisses all the sore, bruised places on my throat. From teeth and tongue, the gentle impressions of strong fingertips. “Mm. Can you get me the salve?” I murmur, already half-asleep again.

“No,” he tells me, almost sternly. Tanner presses a gentle kiss to my hair, nuzzling me in a way that’s very sweet but also very telling. If I try to get up right now, he won’t be pleased.

“What do you mean no ?” I grumble, turning my head to look at him again.

“You’re not erasing the proof that last night happened.” To emphasize his point, he runs his tongue up my neck to my jaw, and then nips my ear. “I’ll heal all your wounds, Kate, but this is different.”

“You want me sore, so I can’t have anymore sex? Got it.” I sit up as Tanner collapses onto his side, watching with hooded eyes as I climb gingerly off the bed. My legs are a little shaky, but I don’t actually feel any soreness even though we went hard last night and again just now.

Is it the magic lube keeping me hale? The fact that I get so aroused, I’m basically jelly in the arms of the Witchwood Boys? I have no idea. Luck? Skill?

I don’t have an answer. I grab sweatpants and a shirt, tossing a set of the same in Tanner’s direction. He accepts the pants, refuses to put the shirt on. Shocking.

“By the way, if this is you acting like an asshole, you suck at it. Don’t even try.” I yank my pants on as he swings his legs off the bed and unfolds his huge body in front of me. My throat closes up, and I hurry to slip the shirt on.

“No, no, I’m not acting like an asshole. ” He lifts up his hand, tattooed side facing out. I see the wolf, the ram’s head, and the moon inked into his flesh by magic. He snaps his fingers and the lock on the bedroom door clicks, like maybe it wouldn’t have opened for me if I’d tried it first. “I’m just doing what I want to do. However that comes across, well, it is what it is.” He points at me, and his own smile is vicious. “If you thought you had trouble getting space from me before, well, honey, it’s done now.”

“It’s done?” I echo, blinking rapidly. “What does that even mean?”

Tanner smiles, but he doesn’t answer.

I realize we haven’t had a spare moment to talk since our argument in the front yard of the Pink Lady mansion, but did something happen last night that I don’t know about?

Wytch. A dark whisper in the back of my mind. Wytch.

Come here, witch.

Tanner walks me to the bathroom, brushing his teeth beside me. Combing his gold and black hair. Shaving himself smooth. Watching me in the mirror.

I want to clean up a little, but not while he’s staring at me the way he is.

That’s dangerous. We’ll never leave the house.

He moves past me to the bathroom door, opening it to an enthusiastic greeting from our dog. Flick spins in a manic circle and then rockets down the hallway and back again. Ah, the joys of owning a herding breed.

The house smells amazing, like fresh coffee and bacon, maybe some eggs. Is something baking? I inhale and stretch my arms over my head, letting my satisfaction and my joy wash over me.

“Want to hear something funny?” Tanner asks, waiting for me to step into the hallway before he does. He’s got the dog’s orange frisbee spinning on his finger as we walk.

“I’d like to know what it’s done means. Why would I want space from you anyway?”

I fold my arms and lift a brow, pausing in front of the open bedroom door.

“So you do like it when I follow you into the bathroom.” Tanner gets way too close to me, his shadow looming over mine, its tails constricting my silhouette. I can almost feel it, the tension around my waist, around my throat. I exhale sharply, and he laughs.

Flick bounces in place until Tanner tosses the frisbee over the railing to the first floor. The dog flies down the stairs like he’s got wings. There’s a vicious snarl as Flick attacks the orange disc and gives it an adorable death-shake.

“What happened last night?” I demand, because there must be something I need to know about.

“Your ex confronted us in the parking lot.” Tanner shifts back, but only an inch or two. He reaches past me to snag our hats off their hooks, tossing mine on before he adjusts his own with two big hands on the brim. His wolf ears are cock-eyed. “Something about seeing you unconscious and slung over my shoulder really set the man off.”

I close my eyes as my hat grows a mouth on the left side of its brim, tongue snapping at Tanner. I taste the sweat from the hollow of his throat as well as his emotions. Violent. Gentle. Violent.

Whoa.

“Where is he buried?” I ask, my heart constricting. Nathan might’ve been a low-key douche, but we were childhood friends. He was my first boyfriend and—

“Please. Would we ever do something like that to you?” Tanner ruffles my hair with his hand and then gestures for me to move down the stairs. He matches each of his steps to my own, his wolf ears swiveling to take in as many sounds as possible. I know he’s worried about the Hag Wytch, about something happening like it did at the Witch’s Tree. But this is extreme.

He’s definitely keeping something from me.

All we did last night was have group sex, so we could procure another ingredient for the gate binding spell. Nothing special. Not just that and you know it, Kate. That was—as odd as it sounds—a lovemaking orgy.

Shit. I feign nonchalance. Yeah, I took three guys at the same time. It’s all good. I’m good.

“If he isn’t dead, then what happened?” I ask, the pair of us continuing to descend the steps side by side. My heart thumps a little. Flick returns the frisbee, and Tanner tosses it across the living room again. His monster crow, Ebon, sweeps in, circles above the both of us, and settles for landing on the grandfather clock across the room.

“We made him impotent for a year. It’s the least of what he deserves.” Tanner breezes through the statement like it’s nothing.

“You made Nathan impotent for a year?” I repeat, and he struggles not to smile. It doesn’t last. Tanner only nods and then turns away, pausing outside the kitchen to usher me in first. “Why? What did he do?”

“He’s … you know, got a mouth on him.” Tanner watches me like he’s hunting, eyes skimming my body as I pass. I shiver under that heated stare, trying not to draw the suspicions of the other two men. The Eastwoods’ cum is ruining my sweatpants as it drips out of me. No big deal.

I pad into the kitchen to see that the round table in the center has been set for breakfast like a 1950s housewife has attacked the place. Tablecloth. Small vase stuffed with glimmering Witchwoods flowers. A tower of sourdough toast. Miniature jams with tiny spreading knives tucked carefully inside of them. Butter in a glass tray. A stack of pancakes. A plate of bacon and sausages. Orange juice. Fresh coffee.

I turn to see Brooks pulling quiches out of the oven with a mitt. He has one of my grandmother’s cookbooks spread open on the counter beside him. He’s not looking at me, but both his shadow and his hat are locked on. Antlers and red eyes on black cones. Marlowe is busy setting out plates and silverware, his hat covered in orange snapdragons. His shadow is yawning, wings curled tight.

Awareness snaps over them both, their combined focus cracking like lightning across my exposed skin.

“Has anyone seen my phone?” I choke out, because I’m too flustered to come up with a better greeting. Also, I can’t avoid social media forever. I need to know what that video from last night was. Witchwoods Boys LIVE S— is not a great title for anything.

Marlowe tugs my phone out of his pocket, flashing it at me before putting it back. In his pants. I’d be more annoyed with him if I hadn’t walked into this.

“What a nice breakfast.” I keep my tone pleasant, like a shirtless Tanner isn’t stalking me from behind. His focus is sexy. If he thinks his attention will bother me, he’s wrong. I’m glad that I told him to stop pretending. “Brooks, thank you for cooking. Marlowe, setting the table is appreciated.”

I ease into the room and turn, meeting Tanner’s eyes again. They’re inscrutable and dark, but he’s also smiling. It’s a disturbing combination. What are you thinking? I can’t see inside your head, East.

“Tanner is responsible for the dishes.” That’s how Brooks responds, wearing a pair of pants with suspenders that aren’t hooked. They just hang at his sides, and I wonder if he’s really planning on wearing them today.

Oh. Wait.

The cemetery.

Of course he’d wear something nice. Something very old-fashioned, too.

“Thank you,” I say, to all three of them. “Just let me know what my contribution should be.”

Marlowe laughs and looks up at me from under heavy, hooded lids. The snapdragons on his hat turn pink, like a blush. Then they go lascivious red, and I sense a quip incoming.

“You gave your contribution last night.” He tosses the final fork onto the table and then puts his palm beside the place setting, leaning down on one hand. With his other, he picks up a piece of toast. It was made in the oven, I’ll bet, since we no longer have a toaster. I have a very greedy hat. Marlowe takes this weirdly adorable little bite from one corner.

My body throbs, and I remember how not adorable all three of them were last night.

I throw myself into the northmost chair, and Tanner picks up my coffee mug without asking. He fills it for me, adds the milk, sets it in front of me. Georgia would hate all of this pampering. She’d find it patronizing and infantilizing.

I … shit, I like it.

“If you’re implying that I pay for niceness with sex, then I take back all the nice things I said about you last night.” I pick up my mug as Brooks places a fresh quiche on the plate in front of me. I look up at him, and all six eyes on his hat blink down at me.

“Nice things?” He stares up at the ceiling with his own eyes, like he’s searching for a thought. Or maybe he just sensed that a glowing fern tendril was about to sprout directly from the ceiling above him. A bit of plaster dust crumbles down, and Brooks catches it in a palm before it can dirty the table. The Witchwoods is certainly making its mark on this world. “Definitely take back all of those nice things.” His eyes drop back to mine, and he smirks. “How’s your ass this morning?”

“Your magic lube did the trick. I’m not even sore.” I take a sip of my coffee, and somehow it tastes better than usual. Maybe because I didn’t have to make it? Tanner scrapes his teeth over his lip, like he can tell what I’m thinking. His attention drops to my crotch, and when I look down, I see that there’s a visible wet spot on my white sweatpants.

I force myself to take another drink of coffee, the way Brooks does. Like I’m entirely unflappable. Marlowe snorts, unconvinced by my chill attitude. He can see the wet spot, too.

“Magic lube? I got that out of your nightstand drawer.” Brooks’ lips twist into a sexy, confident smile, and my heart lurches strangely. “We just got you nice and wet and loose, my love.”

My love?! He … it’s a turn of phrase. That’s it.

“Loose?” The word doesn’t sound very sexy. More casual coffee sipping from me.

“The more aroused a woman is, the looser she is.” Marlowe looks up from buttering a piece of toast and sighs at me. “Don’t make me mansplain this shit. That’s just sad—for you, Kate. Sad for you.”

“Where did you learn the term mansplain?” I demand, and once again, he lifts my phone out of his pocket as Tanner takes the seat on my left, hooks his foot around my chair, and tugs me closer to him. I hold my coffee mug carefully so that none of it splashes out.

“Did you hear what I said?” Marlowe replies, but I did. I heard him. I know what the guys mean. I guess I just didn’t … right. They used foreplay to rile me up, and maybe that’s the reason I’m not sore at all. God. Nathan sucked, didn’t he? Nathan sucked big time. I’m glad he’s impotent.

“Give me my phone back.” I hold out my hand, but Marlowe hesitates.

Alarm spikes my blood, and I stand up suddenly, nearly spilling my coffee again.

“What is it?” I ask him, feeling panic hit me like a ton of bricks. “That drone, they got footage of me and Tanner in the yard, didn’t they?”

“Only a little,” is how Marlowe responds, flinching. Neither Tanner nor Brooks understand how fucking horrible this is. Only Marlowe gets it.

I put my coffee down and scramble around the table, taking the phone from him and clicking the YouTube video that he has pulled up. I do not look to see how many views it has.

There’s just a little snippet, the barest flash of me and Tanner on the grass together before we get up and fix our clothes. Ebon then crashes into the drone and the whole thing plummets to the ground. That’s weird enough, that some random crow would attack a drone. Even weirder is that this isn’t the only video.

There’s … another one. From the hot tub place. I almost throw up right there on the kitchen floor.

The tree limbs block most of the shot, but it’s pretty clear that four witch hats are sitting on the ground beside the hot tub while four bodies entwine on the opposite side.

I quickly scroll to the comments, and my blood chills.

Go check out that urban explorer guy’s video. He flew from Germany to see the Witch’s Tree and then was too scared to get close to it. It’s magic, I’m telling you.

Next comment.

Did you see the anti-hoax girl’s vid? She isn’t afraid of anything, and that place made her cry.

Another.

Doesn’t it seem weird that nobody can approach them? Like, even people who flew all the way over there in search of interviews?

Newest comment.

Have you ever played DnD? I sense a spell of foreboding. LOL.

I drop the phone to my side, staring at the three witch men as they stare back at me.

“There’s a sex tape of us online.” My voice is dark with the horror of such a thing.

“We’ll use a spell to remove it,” Brooks says with infuriating calm, plating three other quiches, and then taking his own seat at the table. He tacks on a disdainful, “after we take care of everything else.”

Brooks uses his fork to cut into the quiche as Marlowe mixes two different kinds of jam together and Tanner piles bacon onto his plate. Quicksilver eyes lift to my face, and the very edge of his lip twitches. If he finds whoever uploaded that video, they are fucked.

“We’re going to kill whoever’s responsible for spying on us,” Tanner admits, shrugging and digging into his food. I don’t think it’s a joke either. I really do believe that he’s serious. “Sorry, kitten. I know you hate violence, but it’s happening.”

Marlowe is frowning, brow pinched, watching me like he’s gauging the strength of my reaction. Like he’s worried about my feelings.

“A sex tape, Brooks. A tape of us, having sex. People can see us having sex.” I’m pacing slightly. “ Can a spell actually remove content from the internet? Listen, you old dinosaur, I don’t think you understand how big of a deal this is.” I’m shaking. I … I suppose I thought I was being a little paranoid last night. My intrusive thoughts were right. Sex tape.

I have a sex tape on the internet. Luckily for me, magic is invisible to anyone who hasn’t been in the Witchwoods. The glowing, the magic wind, that stuff, it’s all blissfully missing for almost everyone. Remember the girl at the farmer’s market? She could see it.

Doesn’t matter. That part doesn’t matter.

I might be experimenting in the bedroom with these guys, but I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else to watch us. Last night was private and special and … dirty . Thankfully the video isn’t great quality, and it’s pretty hard to see through the trees, but that’s just amping up the intrigue.

We’re so viral that we are internet culture at the moment.

This is not helping. This is making it so much worse.

“I know exactly what sort of deal this is. I’ve adapted quickly, Kate.” Brooks is quietly eating his quiche like he’s completely unaffected by any of this. If he understood, he would be affected. “I’m fairly certain it was your ex-boyfriend who filmed us,” he says calmly, shocking the hell out of me. “Not setting him on fire last night was a mistake. I should’ve followed my instincts.”

Oh. So Brooks is bothered by it and trying to control his emotions.

But then … Nathan? Nathan filmed us. I don’t want to believe it.

I wouldn’t let the guys murder him, but if he is responsible, we’ll have to do more than just make him impotent for a year.

“What about you?” I gesture at Marlowe as he uses his knuckle to swipe jam from his jaw. He licks it off while staring at the table, and all of the flowers on his hat die all at once. Red petals drift to the floor as he lifts black eyes to mine.

“I’m fine, Kate. You are the one I’m worried about.” Lo curls his lip, and I allow my hat’s tongue to polish off the speck of jam that he missed. Blackberry and strawberry and he’s fucking pissed. All three of them seem to value their privacy as much as I do.

I stop pacing and turn to face the table as a thought occurs to me.

“If too many people press against the spell of fear in the woods, does it degrade faster or will it still last a month? Should we renew the spell sooner?” I ask, trying to cover my bases here.

“I thought you were the boss in the modern world?” Brooks retorts, taking another bite of quiche and closing his eyes, like he thinks he did a nice job with the crust. It does smell really good. “Why don’t you tell me what to do?”

“Fucking prick.” Marlowe says it for me, fixated on my wet crotch all over again. Tanner loves that, catching Lo’s eyes. They’re briefly distracted by one another as I scoot behind my chair to hide it. “Yeah, it degrades,” Lo continues eventually. “The sex tape will bring hordes, won’t it? Onto the house as well as the woods.”

That’s right. The foreboding spell. We’re going to have to keep casting both spells? Yes! My cheeks flush pink, and all three men shift toward me. They can tell I’m excited about something. Just so long as they don’t know I’m imagining repeats of those spell requirements.

Kissing in the sunlit living room. Bukakke in the woods.

I try to act casual, sliding my hands into my pockets. But I’m not casual. I’m not. I don’t pull off the casual look—especially not when I cast a shadow with horns, her back arched in pleasure on the wall behind me.

“Holy shit, kitten,” Tanner grumbles, rubbing his hand over his face. “Don’t do that. Yeah, I’d love nothing more than to fuck you all day, too, but we can’t let the Hag catch us with our pants down.”

They … got it. Even without me saying anything. They know I’m turned-on and why. Damn it.

“You’re adorable, Kate,” Brooks tells me, which just makes me irritated. I try not to obsess over Marlowe. I caught a glimpse of him leaning back, an obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

“If you want to be the leader then lead .” I wiggle my phone at Brooks. “I don’t want our video to be seen by anyone else. Is there really magic for that?”

I’m genuinely asking. I need to know. But somehow, I’m sure it’s too good to be true. Magic can’t solve every single problem in my life. I have to be realistic in what it can and cannot—

“Absolutely.” Brooks is terribly smug about it. “There’s a spell in one of my books, a mass mind erasing spell. It was triggered by reading a book in the past, but I don’t see why we can’t adapt it to this. We could make it so that anyone who watches the video forgets and never mentions it again.”

My eyes go wide, and I end up throwing my arms around his neck. Around Brooks’ neck. I’m hugging Brooks. He puts his own hands on my waist, holding me in a firm grip. I lean back to look at him better.

I’ve got eight eyes on me now, his hat and his poison-green irises. I retaliate with my hat’s tongue, tasting his emotions on the air. Confidence, affection, and … sorrow? Hmm.

“Right. Okay. So. We should … probably still visit the cemetery and try to bind the gate first?” I would almost rather block the video than close the gate, but I can’t let the Hag Wytch end my life when I’m really fucking excited at how it’s finally starting. This is fun. This adventuring shit is honestly fun to me. “Probably still dig up … that body.”

“Dig up Daddy Dearest?” Tanner asks with a laugh. “Oh, don’t look so down, kitten. I promise you: I have no hidden trauma. I hated the guy, and I’m glad he’s dead. The world is better off without him.”

I don’t tell Tanner that he sounds bitter. Guess we’ll see how he reacts.

Then I think about my dad. He’s not even that bad, more like a douche than anything else. If he died, I know I’d feel like I had to grieve, like I was obligated. Not sure that I would though.

“Visit the cemetery and dig up Tanner Skye Senior. We should do that first?” I’m giving Brooks a look, and he sighs, reaching up to stroke his hand down my hair. I love the way it feels when he touches my braid.

“That mind erasing spell requires a week of … well, it’ll take a week.” His mouth twitches. “I’m as tempted as you are to say to hell with it, and spend the next seven days inside of you, but we just can’t. We need the Hag gone first. Trust me: if your life wasn’t on the line, I would get the video down first.”

I believe him.

This is why being the leader sucks. I don’t want that responsibility. Neither choice was a good choice, but one was better than the other.

I stand up and he slides his hands over my hips before letting me go. Time for quiche. I sit down and cut a piece, knowing before it even hits my lips that it’ll be good.

Oh.

It’s more than just good, it’s … fuck.

I look up at Brooks, wide-eyed, and he smirks at me.

“Didn’t I tell you?” He pushes his empty plate aside, resting his elbows on the surface, and then clasping his hands. “My sister refused to learn to cook. My mother was an unconventional woman. She taught me instead.”

I’ll admit that it’s an unexpected quality in such a domineering asshole.

“Miriam keeps texting your phone.” Marlowe sips his iced coffee, watching me from the western side of the table. Behind him, beyond the walls of this house, lies the ocean. With the back door cracked, I can smell salt on the wind. “She’s obsessed with the idea of having us to her place for dinner. Probably scheming with Dennis over how to tell my parents.”

I grab my phone and glance at the text messages. Yep. Right there. Marlowe used my phone to reply to Miriam. I’m impressed. His response reads: don’t fucking contact me unless I contact you first.

“Did you really have texting back in 2004, or did you just learn by watching me?” I’m teasing, and he knows it. This is our thing, apparently.

“We’re from different decades, Kate. We’re not stupid.” Marlowe snorts at me and shakes his head, but he isn’t angry. I can tell that he’s into me, and I don’t know how to fully process that. “Brooks?” He turns his head suddenly, like he’s tearing himself away. “Tonight? Tomorrow? When are we doing this goddamn spell?”

“We’ll do it in a few days; the brew needs to rest with this one. I’ll cook it up tonight.” Brooks watches me while I eat my quiche in cum-soaked sweatpants. Salt fog, coffee, and bacon. It’s a lovely morning if you don’t think about millions of randos enjoying a video of us— “Cast-iron pots work fine, but I’d love a proper cauldron. Any idea where we can get one?”

My mouth twitches as I stab at my food.

“You’re the leader, right? Why don’t you tell me where we can get a cauldron?”

Brooks’ runs his tongue over his teeth as he studies me, hands still clasped.

“You love to be spanked, don’t you?” he asks, but I still don’t look up.

“You love to be choked, don’t you?” I retort, but I didn’t really get him with the vines last night, did I?

“Sometimes. Ask me again after some foreplay.” Brooks continues to stare at me while I blush. “Do you have a black dress to wear to the cemetery?”

I look up and I see that it’s not Tanner I need to worry about today.

It’s Brooks.

Brooks is upset.

Brooks’ entire family is dead.

This man went into the Witch’s Tree two years ago and came out to a different world. He came out alone. He came out after chasing his baby sister, a sister that he then lost to the Hag.

A little sister that was eaten.

I’ll be a little nicer to him today.

“Nothing appropriate. I’m sorry. I can do a black sweater and some slacks?”

“Do you have an in appropriate black dress?” Brooks asks, his mouth lifting a little on one side. It’s a lot from him, to even smile that much. “I’d take that.”

“I’m not wearing a little black dress to the graveyard,” I tell him with a snort, and then he’s not smiling anymore. He’s frowning down at me.

“Like hell you won’t,” he says, and I decide that I no longer like him. “I would rather be overwhelmed with feelings for you than find myself crushed under the weight of despair for my family.”

“You’re manipulative,” I murmur to him, and he is.

He’s also serious.

“And about Miriam,” Brooks adds, looking over at Marlowe. “If you want us to have dinner with her and Dennis, that’s fine with me, but it’s not going to be a regular thing. The pair of them make you miserable.”

“Obviously,” Lo growls out, but Brooks plows on while Tanner reclines in his chair to watch. There’s a story here that feels like it belongs to the three of them more than it does me. I want to know everything.

“Couple of dinners is fine, if you feel the need to curse them or something.” Brooks does the asshole coffee-sipping thing. “But they are not our friends.”

Marlowe opens his mouth, but no words come out. He purses his lips and then scowls.

But he knows that Brooks is right. It’s never easy to admit that.

Silence. Ceramic mugs on wood. Forks on Gram’s china. Sipping.

“You think the tree will still work on moonless nights when we’re done?” Tanner sounds like he’s been thinking about this for a while, one finger absently tracing the coven sigil scarred into his chest. “Or will it be closed forever?”

“Does it matter?” Brooks sets his coffee down and lifts his gaze to the sliding glass doors behind me. “If the gate is closed, and she is trapped in the woods, it’s a success.”

I look over my shoulder and spot the Hag Wytch beside my reflection.

Somehow, I swear that she’s looking right at me.

Flick charges the door, paws slamming into the glass and startling the ancient forest god. She spreads her wings and takes off with powerful flaps while my dog spins in a wild circle, barking at her until she’s gone.

“At least she’s still running away,” Tanner murmurs, but when I look back at him, he pretends to be relaxed. “Grab that inappropriate little dress, and let’s go.” He stands up, holding out his hand.

I’m not going to be allowed to go upstairs and change by myself, am I? It’s like we’re back to day one. No closed or even cracked doors. Everything wide open. The Witchwood Boys on me all the time. Yes.

I wet my lips and stand, accepting Tanner’s hand.

Time to get ready for the cemetery.