Chapter 1
One
Mornings after a spell of that size always hit a little like a hangover.
The only real difference this time is that I’m not at home, so I don’t know if I’m going to have the herbs I need.
The sun slanting through the window is brighter than it should be, but after three weeks of non-stop rain, it looks like the dryness that graced children’s trick or treating last night has decided to stick around, and we’re going to have a sunny Sunday.
The chilly beaches will be crowded, and the parks likely flooded with sugar-high children too. I can almost hear the noise…
Groaning, I stretch against smooth skin and consider suffering through it, if it means I get to stay where I am, asleep in a dog pile of delicious men.
Four men who should have spent all of last night as werewolves, but who trusted me enough to participate in a spell that stripped them of the most commonly known side effect of their curse.
Werewolves without their mandatory moon-changes were still werewolves, and even if these ones were a warm tangle around me—one I’d like to sink into and stay with—the morning after a full moon would hit them like a hangover too.
That stretch makes my head spin, and I need to get something into my system before it gets worse.
I slide out from underneath Joshua’s arm, and make my way around them, stepping carefully between Chase and Thomas. They look so peaceful, so harmless. No one would guess they were slaves to the full moon—well, up until last night. Even Johnny looks like a gentle giant right now.
I snag a t-shirt from a pile of unfolded—but thankfully clean—laundry piled on the couch, and slip into it as I make my way to the kitchen.
Wandering a strange house in nothing but my skin isn’t my idea of a good time. And when I pass through the open doorway to the kitchen, I’m glad I grabbed it.
It’s brighter here.
The windows to the porch and back yard have no curtains. There’s too much white in the space, bouncing all of the light back to stab at me a little harder.
I stop beside the island and try to get my bearings. The cabinets are old—not what I expected from their werewolf carpenter owner—and there are so many of them. I don’t even know where to start.
“Scarlette?”
I turn to see Johnny filling the doorway.
He’s a big man. The kind that looks like he compulsively goes to the gym, but his pale green eyes always hold a touch of sadness, and maybe a little fear.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He’s pulled on pants, but he’s not wearing a shirt—the one I’m in is big enough, it’s probably his.
Crossing the short distance to me, he brushes his fingers over my collar bone “What do you need?”
“Rosemary. Honey. And coffee.” Lots of coffee.
Leaving me with what seems like a reluctant sigh, he pulls a plastic bear from its hiding spot beside the toaster and asks. “Will dried work, or does it have to be fresh?”
“Honestly, either would work right now. I’ve got a wicked spell hangover and I can feel the oncoming headache.”
He moves past me, opening a cupboard beside the fridge. It’s crammed with plastic jars with red caps.
Three of them land on the counter with a clatter before he turns, to hand me the half full plastic jar of ground rosemary. “It might be expired.”
“I just need something to hold me over until I get home.”
Something like confusion passes over his face as I pop the cap and inhale. The rosemary will work—it’s already started to soothe. The wolf…
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I go to the refrigerator and he turns to the coffee pot, still scowling.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.” The fridge is stocked with meat—not surprising for a post full moon binge.
“I just… I was being silly.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He looks at the tiled floor and smiles, but it’s an embarrassed, tiny thing that tugs at his lips, futilely trying to show itself. “I thought you’d stay.”
I finally find the cream—so pleased it’s not the synthetic flavored stuff.
“We all have lives to lead, Johnny,” I place the creamer on the counter beside the rosemary and press a now-cold hand to his chest. “We can’t ignore them, just because we’d rather be—”
I hear the clatter and screech of the door handle and flinch, turning sharply enough it hurts my head.
“Good morning!”
The little old lady who has just dragged the back door open lets out a squeak of surprise and blinks at me. “Oh!”
Anger passes over her wrinkled brow for a moment, and then it disappears and she smiles widely at Johnny before setting a bag down on the island. “I was just headed into church, wanted to see if any of you boys wanted to join me today. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Mrs. Miller,” Johnny says her name instead of ‘good morning’ and his words are definitely more of a growl than a greeting. “We’ve asked you before. Please knock before you come in.”
“Oh nonsense. What are neighbors for if they don’t check in on each other?” Again her gaze slips to me and there’s something cold in her tone.
She looks like the kind Christian grandmother type. A vigilant warrior looking to save souls.
I wouldn’t try to stop her.
The way she looks at Johnny, I have no doubt she thinks of these “boys” as her adopted children and here I am, a vile snake in their pure sheets.
I managed to not laugh.
Those sheets were plenty filthy before I got here.
Johnny needed to get her out of here before she realized he wasn’t the only one I slept with last night.
“I’ll just ask Thomas.” She started for the doorway to the living room, and thankfully, Johnny had the good sense to intercept her.
Massive as he is, there’s no chance she’d get around him. But her new position gives her a full view of me, and she inhales sharply before turning away—my bare legs, apparently, too much for her.
I take the opportunity to pour coffee into the two mugs Johnny pulled down for us, and I listen to him slowly back her out of the house as I fix mine… three dashes of rosemary, more cream than I would normally use, a generous squeeze of honey, and a few words while stirring clockwise.
One long drink later, and I start to feel like myself again.
“Sorry about her,” Johnny says, looking sheepish as he puts the creamer back in the fridge and drinks his coffee black. “She’s pretty much convinced we need a mother, and as none of us have been mean enough to tell her to get lost…”
“It’s fine. I’m sure she’ll pray for you all today.” And I have a feeling she’ll pray that her God would smite me. “But maybe you should be better about locking that door. Especially on full moon nights.”
He picks me up, setting me on the counter and I shiver as the cool tile touches my skin.
He steps close, the position spreading my legs and placing mere inches between us. I could just imagine telling him to take me, here and now… and having Mrs. Miller come back in an attempt to defend his virtue, only to get an eyeful.
It’s terribly tempting, but when Johnny nips my lower lip, I know he isn’t thinking about sex.
“That’s not the door we worry about on the full moon. And we don’t have to do that any more, do we?”
“Not for a while.”
His brows pinch, but before he can question me on timelines, the others stirred in the living room.
Joshua joins us first. He’d put boxers on late last night, but they were gone now, the cargo shorts he wore were slung low enough I could be sure of that.
“Good morning,” he says as Johnny moved out of the way.
His big hand grasping the back of my head, he pulls me forward, kissing my forehead before moving to the refrigerator and pulling out four enormous steaks. “Do you want one?”
“No thanks. I’m actually a vegetarian.”
Hand over the packaging, he freezes. So does Johnny, and the other two who’ve just appeared in the doorway.
“Seriously?” Thomas asks, a wry smile on his pretty face.
He still reminds me of a human golden retriever. Today, he’s in running shorts and tennis shoes. An old football championship t-shirt half way over his chest—he tugs it down as he steps fully into the room.
“Yep, since I was ten.”
“Do you want us to…” Joshua looks from me back down to the meat, almost as if it’s started to slither.
“Remember, I know what you are, and I know what you need. I’m not offended by the carnage in your fridge.”
There’s a lull as Chase grabs a cup of coffee, and Joshua starts seasoning their breakfast.
Johnny fills the void. “Mrs. Miller stopped by.”
Thomas cringes and Chase’s face sours. I don’t see Joshua’s reaction with his back to me.
“I don’t think I was a welcome sight.” I say before taking another drink of the coffee. “Think she’ll bring her priest home to exorcise me if I’m not gone before she gets back?”
“She has granddaughters of an ‘acceptable age’—her words, not mine. I think she has plans for us.” Thomas rolls his eyes as he sits at the table tucked into the corner.
“For three of us,” Chase corrects, running a hand through his blue-black hair and adding a ton of sugar to his coffee. “There’s one person living in this house she’d like to see relocated.”
Joshua doesn’t turn around when he says, “She thinks he’s gay.”
“I apparently look the part.” He flashes me a hollow smile. “Which would be fine, if she wasn’t a proponent of conversion therapy and praying the gay away.”
Leaning across the counter to him, I press a soft kiss to his lips and smile at his wide-eyed expression when I pull back. “I like how you look.”
I’d guess he didn’t fit Mrs. Miller’s definition of masculinity due to a combination of his slight build, long dark hair, and pale skin that made his eyelashes look fake. Add to that his piercings and the fact that he tended to wear weirdly colored belts…
The smallest of the pack, Chase looked like he was still in college.
But when I researched the pack to convince them to do last night’s ritual, I’d been surprised to find that he was over forty. It was a marker that he might be the one turned longest ago.
“Is there something wrong with her granddaughters?” I ask, not sure I actually want to know.
“Wouldn’t know,” Thomas says. “Never met them.”
Joshua shoots me a glare. “And I think we all need to have a long talk before any of us start talking about dating other people.”
He steps out back and I hear the screech of a barbecue opening.
Three days ago—when I’d decided to offer the part of the spell that had bound their transformation to me—I hadn’t really thought about what would happen afterward. Some part of me assumed we’d go back to the lives we’d lived before and maybe one or two of them would drop by occasionally…
Joshua comes back, warming grill fully visible through the windows. His gaze pierces me. “How did you see this going?”
“Because I, for one,” Johnny says, a little more firmly than I’ve heard before. “Would like to keep seeing you.”
I meet his eyes, and he adds. “On a consistent basis.”
“We all would.” Chase says, refilling my coffee cup. “It seems a little silly to say ‘exclusively’, but…” he shrugs, and I don’t know what we’d call it either.
“Last night was intense.” I don’t know if we should make any commitments. And being with them would only pull them into the path of my coven… Something that could put them in more danger than the full moon. But, “I’m willing to try it out. If we pump the brakes a little bit.”
“What would that mean?” Joshua’s jaw is tight.
“We can hang out, in varying numbers, and go on dates or whatever, but… I’m not your girlfriend.”
Thomas nods as though it’s perfectly acceptable, but the other three frown.
“You guys are all very different, strong personalities. Who knows how well ours will mesh outside of ritual sex?”
That wins Joshua over to my side, but I have a feeling Johnny is going to take even more convincing than Chase.
“Hey,” I hook a finger in Johnny’s waistband and pull him to me. “I’m not telling you to get lost, I’m just saying… you don’t know the baggage I come with, so don’t even think about asking me to move in.”
The way he bites his lower lip makes me think that was exactly where his thoughts were headed.
He is the youngest of the four, and I have a feeling the world hasn’t beaten the fairytale magic out of him yet. I certainly don’t want to be the one to do it.
I get a tingling feeling at the base of my spine, and I wince. “I have to take this call.”
The sound of Ventura Highway echoes from the other room and I hurry in, digging my phone out of my bag.
“Hi Mom.”
“You’re not at home.”
“I’m sure you didn’t forget. It was Samhain… I was with friends. It made sense to not drive afterward.”
There’s a pause. The moment is dark and empty and I guess what she’s going to ask before she does.
“You haven’t joined another coven have you?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say “of course not”, but that quick of a denial will only make her think I’m going to come back.
“None of the local witches want the hassle. Too many ghosts from all our pasts.”
And joining another coven would sever the last tiny strand that connects me to hers. And as long as my mother has that connection to me, she can protect me. At least… that’s why she claims she voted against my “removal.”
“Speaking of buried things.” My mother sighs and I feel the full weight of it through the phone. “I can’t get away today. Will you please go to the Carraway plot and make sure your grandmother is still sealed in tight? One of the canary feathers caught fire this morning.”
“Of course.”
The Carraway plot is in the middle of the forest, a short hike from the ugly golf course they’d built in the dunes years ago.
My grandmother was interred there for crimes I’d been warned against… without actually being told what she’d done. But if she woke, I’d guess—even if she’d been an innocent woman going in—she’d be hell bent on revenge, and a witch with a vendetta was the last thing any of us needed.
“Good. Thank you.” My mother’s short response tells me my father has come into the room. Any talk about his mother is officially over. “I know it’s months away yet, but please consider coming up for the Yule celebrations this year. Everyone misses you.”
“I’ll think about it. Tell papa I love him. I’ll let you know if anything’s… moved.”
When I hang up, I take a moment to breathe. The Carraway Plot is one of my least favorite places. And I’d rather not have to go there this close to such a powerful moon. But needs must, and family secrets are best kept buried.
When I get back to the kitchen, everyone’s at the table except Chase. He is arranging items on the island, beside a blender. “Do you eat eggs?”
“Occasionally.”
His face brightens. “Do you like pancakes?”
“Sure.”
“Good, because it’s the only thing I could think of that we had everything for in the house that wasn’t basically handing you cold cereal.”
He starts spooning dry ingredients into a small bowl, not using any measuring devices, and the liquid ingredients—along with bananas—go into the blender.
“He makes them all the time.” Joshua says, waving a fork with a chunk of stake on it at us. “I think he could measure it out without even looking.”
“Not going to try.”
Less than thirty seconds later, the blender has buzzed a handful of times, and he takes the pitcher to the stove, pulling out a cast iron pan that had been warming in the oven. The entirety of the batter goes in and I watch it start to bubble immediately as he puts the pitcher in the sink with the water on.
“That’s a big pancake.”
“Only way I know how to make them,” he says with a chuckle a moment before squirting dish soap into the blender and setting it back on the base. “I’ll deal with that later.”
Snatching the honey bear from the island beside my coffee, he squeezes out a pattern that I could have mistaken for a sigil, if I thought he’d put any thought into it.
He flips the pancake and it’s a gorgeous golden brown.
“Looks delicious.” I press a quick kiss to his cheek and he blushes.
He pretends to swat at me with the spatula. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”
Snatching my coffee, I step around the island and get another good look at the three men at the table.
No one in their right mind would mistake them for brothers, but they’re so used to each other that they’ve lost some of that stiffness…
Wolves are volatile creatures.
Packs are obsessed with power and control.
No one in this house is competing with anyone else. It hasn’t entered their mind.
Maybe getting my werewolf facts from witches isn’t a reliable source.
Joshua stands and nods for me to sit. “The table’s only big enough for four and you did most of the work last night.”
There’s an empty seat, but I have a feeling Chase hasn’t eaten yet. And Joshua’s the first one I’d expect to offer up his chair.
Joshua’s normal place is the side of the built-in bench with his back to the window, with Thomas on the other side of the built-in corner seat, Johnny on his right, and Chase across from him. Packs like this have routines—even if they don’t always notice them.
They fall into patterns that are easy for someone on the outside and in the know to see.
Chase opens the microwave, and when he comes to the table, it’s with my enormous pancake and his enormous steak.
“If it’s not perfectly crispy on the edges, I want you to tell me so I can get it right.”
That is not a promise I’m going to make.
Luckily, Joshua hands me a bottle of boysenberry syrup before I might have to. I thank them both and dig in as Thomas reminds Joshua that someone’s coming over this afternoon to look at their buggy water heater.
“Why can’t you meet him?”
“Practice,” he says with a shrug.
“On a Sunday?” I ask.
Thomas looks at me and shrugs. “It’s a small town. And as someone who grew up in a small town, I can tell you, the ‘football is everything’ mentality transcends all other regional and state quirks.”
I keep eating as Joshua grudgingly agrees—he and the plumber don’t get along, as far as I can tell. Chase has to work later, slinging drinks at one of the two places that stay open after nine pm on the weeknights and are open Sundays. And Johnny…
“I’m off for two more days.” Something in the way he says it, tells me he’s not on vacation. But I don’t ask. I just push my plate forward stuffed full and let Thomas pull me along the bench seat until I’m pressed up against him.
“What about you?” Johnny asks. “What do you have to get done today?”
“Another day, another cemetery.” I drop my head against Thomas’ shoulder. “This one is not going to be anywhere near as fun.”
“I’d hope not.” Thomas’ whole body vibrates beneath me.
“Need help?” Johnny asks and I shake my head.
“Sadly this is not a group project. It’s a Carraway Plot.”
“Is that a witch thing?”
“Yes. It’s where you put things that really need to stay buried.”