Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards

Chapter 1

Lochlan

“IS IT NOW TABOO TO WEAR CLOTHING TO EQUINOX EVENTS?” —THE WEEKLY HEX

“The witches are already naked,” Lochlan groaned into his phone.

On the other end, Becket crashed to the floor with a grunt, probably tripping over his own feet in excitement.

Naked anything tended to short-circuit his friend’s brain.

Lochlan rolled his eyes and stepped behind a bush of honeysuckle to hide from the jiggling boobs and flopping dicks.

The late-blooming flowers and their vivid orange colors did nothing to lessen his annoyance at having to attend a Mabon celebration alone.

“You’re shitting me. Isn’t the sun still out over there?” Becket asked. “Who’s naked?”

“Maybe if you didn’t miss your train you’d know.”

“How many witches are we talking about?”

“Beck,” Lochlan grumbled. A few of the blooms wilted with his mood. He took a breath and stroked the petals back to life. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you weren’t going to be here.”

“Go home then,” Becket said over the sound of a suitcase zipping. “I’ll be there in five hours—we can have a nightcap.”

Lochlan should have known better than to trust his friend to catch his train back to Stella Rune, let alone make it to the celebration on time.

“I was going home, but Nancy from Magical Resources spotted me in the parking lot and she’s a gossip.” He glanced over his shoulder toward a middle-aged woman who was talking animatedly to Ben from accounting—who, like many of the witches, was already naked.

Lochlan tugged at his collar, feeling the gentle warmth of heating spells and the weight of glamours thick in the air.

Most attendees had arrived preheated by liberal amounts of spiced mead consumed during private celebrations at home.

Being naked wasn’t a strict requirement, but when you combined alcohol, tradition, and supernaturals’ love for anything fun and primal, clothes simply became optional.

Which was exactly why they gathered in a specific section of Stella Rune’s park.

Regulars—non-magical humans—weren’t supposed to see magic, much less naked nymphs dancing.

Most regs lived in blissful ignorance, and those in charge wanted to keep it that way for their safety.

Allegedly. Only regs who married into a supernatural family were allowed to know the truth.

It was a rule, and though Lochlan wasn’t sure he always agreed with it, he could see how it might keep everyone safer.

He turned his attention back to the honeysuckle, bringing a few more buds back to life while healing others caterpillars had chewed on.

“I hate coming to these parties.” He usually worked from home, but his boss had forced him to attend to network. He was the lone archivist of the Videt; there was no need to make connections over drinks and nudity. And if he did, no one would remember a thing by morning anyway.

“I know, I’ll make it up to you,” Becket said, breaking him from his thoughts.

“If you don’t, I’ll hide leadwort in your bed and underwear drawer.”

Becket’s deep laugh brought him a little comfort. “I’m guessing that’s some kind of plant that makes you itchy?”

“It’s a Plumbaginaceae.”

“I deal with stars Lochlan, I have no idea what a plumbie-whatever is.”

“We’ve been friends for almost eight years.

” Lochlan sighed, realizing how often he’d listened patiently while Becket talked endlessly about stars, planets, and constellations.

Clearly, plants hadn’t quite made the same impression in return.

“It’s a blueish-purple flower. The oil from it can cause blisters. Or vomiting, if ingested.”

“Lovely. So much for being friends for almost eight years then.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s your mom doing?” He had wanted to go with Becket, to sit with her, cook, fold laundry, do anything at all. Just like she’d done for him since his freshman year of college. But work had gotten in the way.

“She tripped my stepfather with her crutches this morning. I’m still not sure if it was an accident or not. Probably not, considering he said he was thinking about trading her in for a model that ran better.”

“That’s not very funny.”

“Mom didn’t think so either. But she’s good other than that.

” Doors slammed in the background. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make my train.

I’m leaving for the station now and I don’t have any clients in the morning, so you have me all to yourself.

Go make some rounds for the lords in power and head home.

I’ll call you when I get in. We can go from there. ”

“I’m expecting top shelf bourbon.”

“Only the best for you.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Lochlan peered around the honeysuckle bush, taking in the scene before him.

The equinox celebration was in full swing—joyful music swelled through the crisp evening air, lively banter carried from clusters of supernaturals, some clothed, some decidedly not, and the bonfire roared, painting the sky in hues of orange and violet.

Tables sat a safe distance from the flames, crowded with dishes and half-finished drinks, giving people a place to eat and rest between dances.

Despite the revelry surrounding him, Lochlan would rather have been home with his dog, Jade, tackling the set of old diaries he was restoring.

Though, if he was being honest, that felt lonely. No offense to Jade.

Historically, Mabon was a time for gratitude: a celebration of the harvest and preparation for the coming winter. Witches had come a long way from thatched roofs and no plumbing, but the spirit of the season remained unchanged. So, he’d celebrate, make his rounds and head home.

Lochlan scanned the crowd, searching for anyone he could tolerate small talk with, when the flicker of deep red hair caught his eye. A sudden, senseless ache filled his chest as he recognized the woman it belonged to.

Nia, the Duchess of Charity, stood in the shadows on the far side of the bonfire.

Lochlan had never officially met Nia, though he’d seen her often. As the only archivist in the area with a knack for repairing books, he frequently helped the Stella Rune bookshop, New Chapter, restore old volumes, and the shop was located in the same building as her offices.

Nia was stunning, driven, and always in motion.

What Lochlan—and everyone else—admired most was the way she inspired people to care.

To donate when they could. To show up. She fought for housing access, food equity, and the kind of rights most people didn’t even know were being stripped away.

Nia stood for everything he struggled to believe in: hope, connection, belonging.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to walk past her office without stopping.

Now, in the fading light, her hair caught the fire’s glow, and her presence pulled at something in him he couldn’t name.

Nia turned.

As their eyes met, Lochlan felt an inexplicable familiarity, as if some thread of connection had existed between them long before this moment.

He didn’t know if it was fate, magic, or his imagination.

He only knew he wanted more than this quiet glance.

It was a need that unsettled him more than the thought of approaching a stranger.

He stepped out from behind the honeysuckle, his focus entirely on Nia, and walked straight into naked Nancy.

“Lochlan!” Nancy looked delighted as she grabbed his arms to steady herself. “I thought that was you in the parking lot. I haven’t seen you since that cauldron explosion in the staff bathroom. How have you been?”

He kept his gaze above her chin but the blur of so much skin haunted his periphery.

“Erm,” he choked on his words before he could form a greeting.

“My, I cannot believe you are here. Listen, I have this nephew, and I know you haven’t seen anyone in a while, right? I could set up a coffee date. Just casual.”

“Well…”

“Janet!” Nancy waved at someone and Lochlan looked for his escape as three naked women surrounded him. “Look who’s here. Our prince!”

“Lochlan, I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” said Janet, who also worked in Magical Resources.

Unlike Nancy, who handled community outreach, Janet was in charge of keeping the town’s long-term glamours stable.

“Susan, didn’t you say your granddaughter just graduated summa cum luna or whatever it was. She’s single.”

Since Lochlan was looking anywhere but at the woman who’d just joined them, he didn’t know if it was Susan from accounting, or Susan from the tourism department.

He prayed to the goddess for mercy and a way out of this conversation before it turned into a matchmaking catastrophe.

Just then, a tray of spiced mead passed by, heading away from him and the cluster of unclothed women.

“It was good to see you,” he said, seizing the opportunity to escape, “please excuse me while I grab a drink before the dancing starts.”

“The dancing has already started!” they complained in unison, but Lochlan was already slipping through the crowd, focused on the man bringing drinks to another group. After he placed his order, he found a table with mostly clothed supernaturals.

Lochlan had nothing against nakedness at celebrations—or in general.

It was more that he didn’t know where to look, how to react, or how to avoid making a misstep.

When he’d left home at eighteen and traveled to Stella Rune from Dover, he had been thrust into witch life and hadn’t found steady ground in the eight years since.

Nia crept into his thoughts, slipping past the guard of his better judgment.

She made it look easy, as if she’d always known who she was. Like she didn’t have to try. He scanned the gathering, but she was nowhere to be seen. The ache that had spread through him, the glint of something new—something he hadn’t felt before—faded to a dull longing.

His drink arrived, a welcome distraction. He’d let himself finish it and then he could leave the chaotic field and put the night behind him. Or at least pretend to. He doubted anything would make him forget Nia.

The way she made something in him stir.

The way she made him want.

At least his boss would be satisfied; tomorrow, he’d scribble a brief note, seal it, and send it off with the next available messenger cat to confirm he’d attended, had his drink, and fulfilled expectations.

Nothing more, nothing less.

He downed the chilled liquor and a distinctive fizz tickled his throat.

It tasted like bourbon, but bourbon didn’t make the world feel more colorful or hazy at the edges.

The warmth spread fast, loosening the quiet caution within him.

Strange. He didn’t hate it. In fact, he liked the way it softened the world.

Suddenly, he wanted to stay a little longer.