Chapter 10

Tanner

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re stuck on something.” Brooks is standing beside me in the front yard of the Pink Lady. Of course the owner just so happens to be some woman I went to high school with. That’s Eureka for you. Swear to God I didn’t sleep with her though.

I run my hand down my face, thankful for the spell that’s keeping the rollers and the paintbrushes moving on their own. Kate doesn’t mind magic for the gruntwork, but she’s got a strong, admirable work ethic. All the detail work, she wants to do entirely on her own.

“If she used a broom to fly, she wouldn’t need the scaffolding,” I tell Brooks. Not an answer to his question, just an observation. Kate is way up there, working on the trim that decorates the circular tower on the right side of the house.

“You don’t want to talk about it? You sure?” he asks, arms crossed, a bit of pink paint smudged on the right side of his jaw. “No part of you is upset about Kate and Marlowe?”

I let out a soft laugh, closing my eyes and wondering if we can’t take a walk down to the pier, grab a drink after work. I’d like to sit and look at the ocean for a while.

“Makes sense that they’d connect like that.” I open my eyes again, trying not to think about the Hag Wytch and our failed spell attempt. Both Brooks and I know what this means. My dear ol’ dead daddy couldn’t hack it as a proxy. If we send a live human through the tree and try again, we might get further than we did last night but we won’t get that far. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Huh. Pretty sure that’s not what I asked you.” Brooks has this all-knowing smirk on his face that’s driving me nuts. Is he trying to rile me up?

“We’re going to have to go back into the woods, aren’t we?” I ask, and that smirk disappears faster than it came on. “Go back in, close the gate, and then try to get out without speaking. And without being eaten by the fucking Hag. I don’t like this at all. Why is she so intent on Kate?”

“I have no fucking clue.” Brooks exhales, and I know I’m poking a sore spot. His mentor was eaten by the Hag Wytch. Worse: his baby sister was eaten by the Hag. We’ve tried to kill that owl with no luck. Set her on fire. Stabbed her through the heart. Caught her in a massive snare. “I don’t know what to do, Tanner. We’ll keep poring over the grimoires, but it’s starting to look like that’s our only option.”

We both pause as a mother cat with a kitten in her mouth goes trotting past. Both cats have coats patterned after starry night skies. Witchwoods cats.

“It’s not an if the Hag gets out, it’s a when. I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened yet.” Brooks puts his hands in his pockets.

We all thought that once we left the Witchwoods, that’d be the end of it. Of course it’s not. That place has staying power.

“Can I just say that I’m happy I grew up in a time period before the internet?” I tell him, and this time, he lets out a derisive little laugh and a shake of his head.

“Fuck, I can barely wrap my head around it. In my day, you just brought along a witness to prove you stuck your hand in the Witch’s Tree and that was that. Now, people videotape it? They share it with the entire world? This is a headache for us, Tanner.”

I smile, but there’s nothing to it. I’m not in a great mood. I am jealous of Kate and Marlowe, and it’s my own goddamn fault. Did she tell Brooks that she loved him, too? I watched when they were in their own little world in the living room. It’s possible that she did. They looked like they were in love that night.

“For us eighties kids, it was Polaroids.” I mime snapping a photo. “Dunno if you’re familiar with that old-timer, but it was an instant camera. Press a button, get a picture.”

“We had Polaroid cameras in the fifties, too.” Brooks snorts again and shakes his head. “If only. This viral shit is making me crazy. Once the gate is closed, I’ve got a list of fifty spells we need to cast and charms that we need to make. First thing on the list is that goddamn sex tape.”

That makes me laugh, but only because there’s nobody to suffocate with my magic. When we find whoever posted it, I’m teaching them a lesson in being a decent fucking human being.

Brooks moves away to help Kate as she climbs down the scaffolding, but I just stand there and watch, buried under my own thoughts.

When I ended up in the Witchwoods, I realized the hard, raw truth of my life.

There wasn’t a single person left behind who cared whether I lived or died. Not a single person who would be bothered by my absence, who would miss me. Not one person to buy me a gravestone the way Brooks’ family did for him. Not a soul who’d even think to hold a candlelight vigil for me the way they did for Marlowe.

Out of the three of us—the supposedly infamous missing Witchwood boys—I’m the only one who was completely forgotten.

I can change things now. I can do it right. I can be a man who’s worth remembering.

So why the hell am I screwing this up so badly? I want to tell Kate that I love her, too, but how can I trust myself? I don’t know anything about love. I’ve said those words so many times that all the meaning is lost.

Kate takes a seat at the picnic table with a huge smile on her face, a colorful bandanna on her head, braid hanging down her back. She’s wearing overalls with one side unbuttoned, showing off the tie-dye crop top underneath. Old brown boots splattered in paint. Fresh sweat glistens on her forehead as she reaches up with a gloved hand to swipe it off.

She’s sitting with Marlowe and Brooks, but her gaze tracks back to mine.

I push away from the house and come to stand near the picnic table. The conversation stops as soon as I arrive, making me wonder if they weren’t talking about me. Doesn’t matter. The four of us, we should be able to talk shit about each other.

“Call it a day and get a drink?” I ask, tucking my hands into my pockets. Kate doesn’t look directly at me. Probably still embarrassed about last night. That’d be like her, to get kinky and then blush about it. Worth it though, for me to fill that ass with cum. Who knew that Marlowe and I could fuck a girl together and like it?

That’s progress, eh?

My eyes move to Lo’s, and I find that he’s looking right at me. Neutral expression. No scowl this time. I am impressed.

He knows I’m thinking about last night, too. He’s so affectionate with Kate. I see him do it, and I want to be the one fucking doing it. Makes sense, I suppose, that loverboy would be the one to take the lead in the romance department.

“I want to look at the ocean,” I add, gesturing in that general direction. “Want to find a place on the water for dinner?”

“That sounds really nice,” Kate replies, and then she looks up and I can’t help myself.

“Who are you in love with?” I ask, and it sounds like a goddamn plea instead of the whip sharp command I thought I was giving. Yep. I’m screwed. I have fucked myself.

She meets my eyes, entirely unashamed.

“You, Tanner.” Kate smiles at me, and I feel like I’ve been punched. Brooks sighs, and Marlowe snorts like he finds the whole thing ridiculous. “I’m in love with you.”

Katelynn Poppy is drunk.

It’s cute. She’s funny as hell. She’s sitting across from me with Marlowe on her left. Fucking Marlowe. Brooks is sitting across from her, and I’m on his right. My body feels wrong, like I should be in the east, but what can you do? The table is a rectangle, one side pressed against a decorative planter box with a small plexi-glass half-wall above it to block out the wind.

The bay is beautiful this evening with the sun setting over it. Molten gold melts into the navy water, and a sea of colorful boats bobs in the harbor. It’s almost too much for my brain. Over a year spent in the Witchwoods, and something changed inside of me. I saw darkness more often than light, trees more often than people, and despite Brooks’ insistence, I didn’t think I’d ever see this world again.

“You have no idea the shit that Fernanda gets up to,” Kate slurs, picking at what’s left of her fish and chips. “She’s so kinky. She makes me feel boring and vanilla.” Kate jams a cold fry into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savors it.

I spin my beer bottle around, nowhere near the blood alcohol level that would promise oblivion. Can’t let myself get there. Brooks is going to drive us home, but still, if something happens, I need to be able to protect this beautiful woman sitting kitty-corner to me and talking nonsense.

“Boring and vanilla?” I ask, failing to keep the amusement from my voice. I’m not trying to tease her, but damn. Has she met herself? “Kate, you’re into orgies, bukkake, and somnophilia. The only time you eat vanilla is if it’s part of a sundae. Were you in the kitchen with us last night?”

“Hey.” She slaps her hands on the surface of the table, the orange of her hair picking up on the dying light of sunset. Fuck. She isn’t supposed to be this pretty. She wasn’t this pretty when we first met. And I don’t mean the Witchwoods magic changed her. It’s her personality. First time in my life that I’ve wanted to fuck somebody’s personality. “This is all new for me.” She’s slurring again as she turns to Marlowe, poking him in the center of his chest. “Y’think I did any of that stuff with Nathan?”

Marlowe bares his teeth at her. I’ve been living and working with the man for eight months, and I’ve never seen an ounce of warmth or caring in him. But when he looks at Kate? Even with an expression like that, it’s so goddamn obvious.

I work my jaw in frustration and Brooks scoffs, turning away with a shake of his head. He stares out at the water with the same level of awe that I feel in my chest. He was in the woods for more than two years.

He was completely alone for half of it.

“Don’t bring Nathan up ever again. That impotent little fuck is only lucky to be alive. I really want him dead, Kate.” Marlowe is a little drunk, too. He squints at her. “Do you ever think about killing Miriam?”

“You guys’ve spent too much time in those woods,” Kate mumbles, swaying a bit in her seat as she picks up her drink. “Murder isn’t a viable solution to problems.”

“Agree to disagree,” I reply easily, and Brooks laughs.

“To get rid of all your lovers, I’d have to be a serial killer.” Kate is finally looking at me, her gaze directly on mine. I take another sip of my beer, just enough to knock the edge off. I tap my fingers on the side of the bottle, watching as the wind sneaks around the plexiglass barrier to ruffle Kate’s beautiful hair. “What’s your body count anyway?”

“My body count?” I ask, giving it some thought. “I’ve never actually killed anybody. Not a lot of people in the Witchwoods make it past the first night. The Hag usually takes care of ‘em. If not her then something else. Gore-bear. Flash-toad. We have these tiny spiders there that can kill a grown man with a single bite.”

“Not that sort of body count.” Kate puts her face in her hand and moans. “How many people have you slept with? That’s what body count means now.”

Brooks and I exchange a look.

“What the fuck is wrong with this generation?” I ask him, and he laughs, big shoulders shaking. “Body count? Ah, hell.” I rub at my face with my hand, trying to count in my head. I never bothered to keep track, so it’s hard to say. “Brooks, you want to field this question?”

“I’ve only slept with three women besides you, Kate. You and I have the same ‘body count’.” Brooks snorts at the term, but all he’s done is buy me time. Kate is still staring at me.

“I never bothered to keep track. Nothing mattered to me, not even myself. I didn’t have enough brains in my skull to think ahead or consider what sort of future to look forward to.” I shrug one shoulder, but Kate leans in, offering a tantalizing view of her breasts. She really has the worst taste in clothes, but somehow that’s sexy to me. Her bad fashion makes my cock hard. How do I explain that? I just want to strip her down until she’s naked. She looks best like that.

“Did you do kinky stuff with them?” she asks, cocking her head slightly to one side. Ebon lands on her shoulder, and Kate just chuckles, lifting a French fry up and feeding the bird. Suppose that’s one good thing I got from my prick of a father. He taught me everything he knew about birds, information and skills I never cared about until I was trapped in a magical forest. “Like the stuff that we do?”

Now that makes me laugh.

“With a one-night stand? Are you fucking kidding me?” I take another drink of my beer, loving the way Kate’s braid slides over her shoulder and nearly falls into her tartar sauce. If Marlowe hadn’t caught it, she’d have been in desperate need of a hair wash. He pushes her hair back, but she doesn’t look at him.

Just me.

I finish off my drink just in time for the waiter to stop by so I can order another. Kate also orders another drink, but I’m not sure if I should let her have it.

“So … that’s a no then?” she asks, and I laugh. God. Is she jealous?

“You know.” I put my forearm on the table and then I lean in too, just to get a little closer to her. “The only person who’s slept with me in the past forty years is you. Nobody even remembers me.”

Kate hiccups, and her cheeks turn pink.

What the hell? How can I want to hold her tight and also pin her down and rail the fuck out of her at the same time? I sit back and run my fingers through my hair.

“Mrs. Madsen remembers you,” she says gently, but something about my statement hit her hard. I don’t know why. I feel bad about saying it, even though it was meant to make her feel better.

Deep breaths, Tanner.

I can throw Kate over my shoulder, take her to bed, show her a good time. This emotion shit? I don’t even know where to go with it. I have zero experience. For a brief second, I’m glad that Marlowe’s there to feel things with Kate. Brooks is too hard-up. I’m too … whatever it is that I am.

Kate hiccups again and, when her drink comes, I steal it from her. Neither she nor Marlowe needs more alcohol.

“Hey, that’s mine.” She’s pouting now, and all I can do is sit there and flick my tongue against the corner of my lip. What the fucking fuck is that? She’s so hot right now. I want to take her home and spank her ass, and then make love to her, and then fuck her in the mouth, and then cook her pancakes again.

I work my jaw, but when she lunges for the drink, I pull it out of reach.

Kate’s making a face at me, puffing air into her very pink cheeks.

“Time to go?” Brooks asks, sounding bemused. “You’re adorable, Kate, but you’re drunk off your ass.”

“You be quiet, you bossy dick.” She slumps back into her chair with a groan, rubbing at her face with both hands. “Ugh. Why couldn’t the spell have just worked? This is fun. I … really like spending time with you guys. Imagine if it had worked? We could just focus on the business and fixing up the house.”

Neither Brooks nor I say anything, so Marlowe fills in the space for us. He’s still got a lot to learn, too. Maybe he doesn’t understand the implications yet, huh? Back to the fucking Witchwoods we go. Assuming that the spell Brooks is cooking up doesn’t close the gate with us on the other side. He thinks that we’ll be okay if we don’t speak, but he doesn’t know shit. It’s all theory at this point.

“How many kids should we have?” Marlowe asks, and he’s a little bit pouty, too. “I want two. So two each? Six?”

Kate is staring at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Is there a spell to switch bodies or something?” she mutters, her vowels long and low and slow. I take a sip of the drink she ordered, but it tastes like liquid candy. I can’t do it. I’m calling uncle. “If you want that many kids, you can get pregnant with some of them.”

“There’s a spell to switch sexes,” Brooks says with this cocksure little grin. “We could make things happen like that.”

Kate’s eyes brighten up, but Marlowe is gagging over there.

“Fuck no. I don’t want to be pregnant. I’d rather have zero kids.”

She elbows him in the side, and he grunts but doesn’t retaliate. Far too drunk for that.

Kate’s gaze slips back to mine, like there’s something she wants to say to me.

I decide to find out as we walk back to the car. Brooks is supporting Marlowe because Marlowe would never let me do the supporting. Okay by me. I’ve got my arm wrapped around Kate. I would’ve just carried her, but she doesn’t want me to. She insists on stumbling down the sidewalk with my help.

“I want to talk to you about some stuff,” she murmurs, and I give a little laugh.

“You sure this stuff can’t wait until tomorrow?” I ask, but she shakes her head emphatically, braid flying around and slapping me like a whip. Oh, I like that.

“No.” She stops walking and tries to turn and face me. Nearly falls over. I catch her by putting my hands on her hips, and she gives me the cutest little drunk face I’ve ever seen in my life. “There’s a lot. I’m just going to lay it out.”

“Mm-hmm.” I cock a brow at her and wait. “Go on, kitten. I’m listening.”

She lifts her chin, but she’s still got droopy eyes and a bit of a sway going on.

“I’m going to regret this in the morning,” she mumbles, her gaze drawn to a glowing banana slug in the parking lot next to us. It’s as big as a car, bright yellow with brown spots. If you fall in the woods near one, it’ll try to slime itself over your body and digest you while you’re still alive. Luckily, they’re slow and stupid, and you can just stab the soft-skinned fuckers. Kate tucks her hair back behind her ears, and her bandanna comes loose. I catch it when it falls, tucking it into her front pocket as she gapes up at me with rapid blinks. “Whatever you want to do to me, I want it. I have no limits.”

“Mmm.” It’s the only response I’m capable of. She’s too drunk for me to take any of this seriously. “I’m thrilled to hear that. You sure though? Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow?”

“Use a truth spell on me.” She points at herself, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “I’m serious. I’m … I want to try stuff with you.” Her eyes shift to the side, back to the giant banana slug again. It’s no threat. We’d have to stand still for thirty minutes for the damn thing to get to us. It’s heading right for a homeless guy, but I honestly don’t give a fuck. I’m kind of a prick like that. My coven matters. Mostly, Kate matters. “Like what you said the other night … with no safe words …”

“Ahh, yeah. We definitely need to talk about that while you’re sober. Torture by orgasm is a big deal, little kitten. Like I said, you have claws but you’re fluffy as fuck, too.”

Kate works her jaw, just like I did earlier. She’s annoyed with me. Don’t care. I like her too much to risk regrets in the morning.

I glance over to see that Brooks has deposited a floppy Lo on a wooden bench. A man shuffles up to Brooks and, if I’m not mistaken, threatens him. He’s got a knife in his hand for sure.

Huge mistake.

The man’s jacket catches on fire, and he screams as he stumbles off. Brooks waves his hand and puts the fire out. Nicer than I would’ve been. But hey, maybe that guy will think twice before trying to rob his next victim?

Kate doesn’t notice any of that. She’s too out of it, yawning and rubbing at her face with a tattooed hand. It looks good on her, all of that Witchwoods ink. It shimmers and shifts across her skin as the evening turns to night. It feels wrong to just stand here and talk. In the Witchwoods, talking outside at night is the easiest way to die.

“Tanner, I want you to know that I didn’t mean to … It’s not like I favor Marlowe or Brooks over you. I … we … you’ve been so great to me from the beginning, and they’ve been dicks. It’s not … you’re …” She groans and presses both of her palms against her face.

I exhale, keeping my hands on her hips. I want to move them over her body, but not out here. Kate is mine, and if some guy comes up and points a knife at her, then I won’t be pulling back the way Brooks did. I’ll just fucking kill him. We should go home. This isn’t the right place for a conversation this deep.

“Kitten, don’t.” I take her hands down from her face and put mine there instead, my fingers pressed against either side of her jaw. I like the look of it, my rough witch-inked hands touching the smoothness of Kate. I brush a thumb over her lips. “Let me do the work, baby. But tonight, I’m taking you home to sleep.”

She looks like she might protest, but then she sways again. Kate puts her hand to her head and groans.

“I drank too much. You’re right. We should go home.” She turns and trips over a crack in the sidewalk. I catch her waist, and she glances over at me in surprise. When I lift her into my arms, she struggles but she loves it. We both know that.

Only, let’s talk turkey while we’re sober before we head any further down that particular path.

“This is way too romance novel for me. Put me down, Tanner. I’m serious.”

“Eh, I said I needed consent for those other things. Not for this. Unless you can kick my ass, I’m not putting you down.”

She bites me in the shoulder, but the sting of her teeth through my shirt only makes me groan.

“Did you just bite me, witch?” I ask with a laugh, and that calms her down, that sound. Not sure what to make of that. She’s happy if you’re happy, dipshit. Fuck. I heft her up a little and keep walking, passing Brooks and Lo on the way back to the truck.

“I did, and I’ll do it again,” she says, but it’s definitely not a threat, so I walk a little faster. I’m not planning on fucking her when we get home (Kate’s too drunk), but if she keeps biting me, I might not be able to control myself. It’s better if we get back to the house—quickly.

“I hope we aren’t being filmed,” Kate whispers, and then I’m at the truck door and setting her down again. It’s enough to jolt her eyes open for a few seconds. She puts her hands on my shoulders and we stare at each other. “Wake me in the morning with a fuck,” she says, and then she turns away and flops across the back seat.

“You’re outmatched,” Brooks tells me, dragging a groaning Marlowe past. He opens the passenger side door and shoves our Westwoods in with little effort. Lo slumps against the door as soon as Brooks closes it, and he looks so much nicer when he’s asleep like that. Hides his poisonous mouth.

“Outmatched?” I repeat as Brooks and I head for the driver’s side.

“With Kate. Don’t even try.” He leaves it at that and hops in the front.

I climb into the back, gently lifting Kate’s head into my lap so that I can shut the door. She comes to with a yawn and heavy lids, swiping her hair back from her groggy, pink-cheeked face.

“Who are you in love with?” I breathe, leaning in close and watching her go cross-eyed as she tries to stare at my mouth.

“You,” she moans, and then she falls right back into my lap with a groan. I can’t help myself. My fingers find her hair and thread through the orange and black strands. We’re usually wearing our hats, so I don’t get enough opportunities to touch it like this.

The urge to say I love you back to Kate overwhelms me, but I can’t tell if I want to say it because she wants to hear it or if …

My body glows in the back seat of that truck, and I close my eyes.

Love at first sight, she said. Yeah. I knew it. I know it. Kate looked me dead in the eye on day two and brought up Bonnie fucking Tyler. Looking for something between us that we could share, giving me something to hold onto.

That question was like a hand, outstretched in the dark.

“What’s it mean?” I ask Brooks, keeping my eyes closed. “Us, glowing.”

He thinks about it for a minute, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in thought.

“I have no idea. My mentor never mentioned it. Never saw it in the coven that got sent home.”

I open my eyes and he meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Could be …” Brooks begins, never taking his eyes off of me. He doesn’t need to look at the road because he put his hat back on, the cone squashed against the roof of the truck. That one big eye keeps a lookout for traffic signals so he doesn’t have to. “That it’s unique to our situation.”

“Everything in the Witchwoods glows,” I remind him, and he laughs at me. I lift my brow in challenge. What’s so funny about that? It’s the goddamn truth. That forest is on fire with color, one of its only pleasant qualities.

“Then why didn’t that other coven glow? How about my mentor?” Brooks holds my gaze, and I can’t look away. He’s good at this, getting me to listen to all the things I don’t want to hear but absolutely need to.

“ Look at you,” he said on our first night in the cabin together, “it’s like you don’t want to escape. Like you have nowhere to go.”

“The glow is magic, and our magic is best when there’s a connection of some kind, Tanner. If I had to place a bet, that’s what I’d say it is: connection. ” He turns his gaze back to the road, but all of the eyes on his hat shift around the cone to stare backwards at me.

I lay my glowing hand against the side of Kate’s face.

Yeah, I don’t need to say it. I’ll earn it.

I’ll earn it.

With actions.

I’m fucking her awake in the morning for sure.

Kate is an angel in her sleep.

I lick my thumb to get it slick, and then I run it gently over her bottom lip. Her mouth is parted, and her breathing picks up at the touch.

We’re the only ones in the room; the curtains are still closed.

I reach back and flick one open, just enough for a bit of gray light to filter into the room. The color on Kate’s face changes, adding a bit of pink to her lips. She’s mostly still in shadow, but there’s a hint of her profile now.

The blankets are at her waist, baring the baggy t-shirt she put on when we got home. That’s all she’s wearing, just the t-shirt.

I bite at my lip as I run my thumb over her hungry mouth and down her chin, the curve of her bared throat. Against the high neckline. I move down the bed and pull the blankets with me. There’s Kate, naked from the waist down.

“Time to get up, kitten.” I slide my arms under Kate’s thighs and grip her hips with tight fingers, pulling her to my mouth. Hot, long lick down the outside of her. Another lick back up. Kate moans and bucks her hips, but her eyes don’t open. She’s clutching the pillows on either side of her head. Is she awake? I suck her clit into my mouth and she writhes for me. Fuck. Not sure how long I can be down here today. I want her this morning with an urgency that’s making me fucking crazy.

Kate tries to close her thighs, but I hold her still, dipping my tongue to the sweetness of her opening. Pushing in, feeling her try to ride my face. I lock my hands even tighter on her hips, dragging my tongue back to her clit. Flicking it. Pushing a single finger in.

She thrusts against me desperately, her breathing picking up again.

Kate climaxes so hard on my fingers that I have to put some effort in just to move them, to finish her with my tongue as her eyes flutter open. She’s surprised for a fraction of a second. Kate’s eyes flick down to mine, finding me crouched between her thighs and staring at her with what little self-control I have left.

I surge up the bed and she makes this noise that has me coming apart. I’m putting one hand on the pillow beside her head, using the other to guide my cock to her pulsing cunt. She’s still in the aftershocks of a climax, and I want to feel it.

“Tanner—” she starts breathlessly, and I drive into her. “Oh God.” Kate tilts her head back into the pillows, digging her nails into my arms. “Holy shit.”

I fuck her until she can’t talk, until she’s grabbing at me. Kate bucks hard, fighting me, and I pin her down, so that I can make her come for a second time. I’m panting over her but laughing, too, biting her lower lip gently and tugging on it.

“Do you see what I mean? Torture by orgasm.”

Kate says nothing, trying to catch her breath, holding tight to my arms.

I start to move again, and she groans, writhing underneath me.

“Don’t stop until you want to stop,” she tells me, and I kiss her again. Take her hands. Pin them to the mattress on either side of her head.

“Don’t say that: I will never want to stop.” My voice is a rolling growl, almost a threat.

It fucking hurts to keep going when I want to come, but I don’t let myself finish yet. I grit my teeth. I bite my tongue. I don’t think about how badly I want to fill her up, how much I want to see it drip out of her and onto our sheets.

Kate lets herself go for me, tears jiggling at the corners of her eyes.

“Say it.” I’m panting. I’m an idiot. I’m glowing and so is she.

“I love you, Tanner.” Just that, a little whisper. I kiss her and we go there again . This time, I relax my body and let myself fall with her. Hips pumping. Her legs spread wide. I slam deep and we both groan, her arms grabbing at my neck, nails in my upper back. “Shit.”

She’s cursing and laughing a little in my ear.

“Oh my God. That was … what the fuck was that?” she asks, all rosy-cheeked and well-fucked. As she should be. Obsession and sex, my specialties. And Kate loves it all. My threat of being an asshole isn’t panning out, is it? She likes it too much.

“We could go all night, see how many we could get before you stopped liking it. See how long before I stop, period.” I kiss the side of her neck before I sit up, and she shivers underneath me. Kate stares up at me with parted lips, slightly dazed. She looks content, and my lips curve up in a smile, the skin around my scar pulling tight. “Though I have a feeling your threshold might be higher than my restraint.” I run my hand over my mouth, sucking on my thumb and tasting Kate’s cunt.

“Does it feel good to come in me?” she asks, rubbing her hips against mine. I bite my lip and then lean down for her. Our mouths meet as she puts a hand on the back of my neck.

“Kate, you’re a dream.” I kiss her again, but then I pull away and stand up before we lose the day. I would love to lose our day—but not when we’re being stalked. I fucking hate being the prey. My job is as a hunter, and that Hag Wytch is getting in my goddamn way. “Does it feel good when I come in you?” I return the question and Kate flushes, sitting up and closing her knees.

“If it didn’t, I wouldn’t let you do it.” She smiles at me. “I would kill you in your sleep. Make you love me and then slit your throat.”

“Brooks told me I was outmatched by you last night.” I walk back over to the bed just as Kate turns and throws her legs over the mattress. I kick them apart and she gasps, falling back when I lean forward. But I don’t touch her. I want her to anticipate my next move. “But I don’t know if I believe that. I’m going to go all in and assume you’re not going to kill me. Come on. I bet there’s breakfast.”

There is.

Brooks made some cream cheese pastry thing. Fresh coffee. Marlowe looks fine, no sign of a hangover. He gives me a look when we walk in, and I know that he’s annoyed that I was upstairs with Kate. Doesn’t say anything though, and that’s all I can ask.

Kate scoots around me and takes her usual chair. I take mine.

“We’ll finish the Pink Lady soon, and then what happens with work?” Brooks is looking right at Kate, but she’s digging into a pastry, closing her eyes and moaning in a way that makes me wish I’d given myself multiple orgasms.

“We have other clients scheduled already, but not for a while. Not because we couldn’t book anything else, but because I didn’t think we’d finish the current job so quickly. We’re way ahead of schedule.” Kate’s lips twist up in a smile, but she’s still staring at her plate instead of any one of us. “Rather, I thought it was only going to be me painting it.”

“This work break is going to be our window to deal with the gate again.” Brooks takes a sip of his coffee, and all six eyes on his hat go wonky from the caffeine. “We should get started on the spell prep today though.”

“Works for me.” I shrug and grab a … whatever the fuck this baked thing is.

“Let’s just get it over with,” Lo gripes, crossing his arms. “The Hag was all the fuck over the glass when I got up. Every window. Every reflective surface.”

Kate nearly chokes on her food, but when all three of us stand up to help her, she waves us off.

“No, I’m good.” She takes a quick drink of her own coffee, but only Marlowe and I sit down. Brooks stays standing. “How do we close the gate? You haven’t said.”

Brooks sighs and stares her down. He doesn’t mention that the Hag is in the reflection on the back door behind her for the fucking hundredth time.

This owl bitch is going into the woods or she’s staying out here. I don’t care which, but my wife isn’t living in the same realm as a vengeful god. Not happening. I’ll do whatever needs doing.

Any sacrifice is an acceptable sacrifice—except for our Northwoods.

I decide to say it first.

“We have to go back into the woods, Kate.”