Chapter Five-Evie
In the Pine Barrens
With a few whispered words and a flick of her manicured fingers, Donny lit the fire. It crackled to life in the clearing like it was personally excited to see us.
I peeled off the rest of my clothes faster than a stripper on a time crunch—dignity long gone and modesty overridden by magical protocol.
Look, it’s hard to feel embarrassed about nudity when you’ve done it every month for the last decade with the same two women who’ve seen you cry, rage, bloat, and curse your bra into flames at least once.
I glanced at Bella—who gave me a knowing grin and a bounce of her blonde curls—and then at Donny, who nodded sharply like a general preparing to go to war.
Naked war.
This was it.
Our ritual.
Our purpose.
We were the Castor’s Corner Witch Trifecta.
Three best friends.
Three magical misfits.
Three Witches bound to protect our supernatural small-town haven from anything and everything that might try to slip in uninvited.
Ghosts, Goblins, telemarketers—you name it.
Sure, we all had different strengths.
Donatella was the badass beauty guru with razor-sharp spells and a matching attitude.
Maribella was the culinary conjurer with frosting in her veins and a killer right hook.
And I was, well, me—but when we came together?
We were magic. Literally.
We danced, we chanted, we sang our power into the night air, letting it rise like incense into the stars.
I always felt self-conscious about this part—dancing was not my love language.
I was more accidental hip check than graceful enchantress.
But tonight, I found my rhythm.
The magic hummed through me like a melody I’d always known but only remembered during these moments.
My body moved in sync with the others, our magic overlapping and intertwining like chords in a song.
Mine was a cool, steady aqua with hints of shimmering lavender.
Bella’s came out in bright pink streaks edged in glowing white.
Donny’s magic sparkled gold, like a glitter bomb had gone off in a bottle of champagne.
Together, we painted the sky with color.
The bonfire rose higher, fed by our spellcasting.
Our lights swirled around us, flowing from our fingertips into the flames, rising to form a protective dome over our town.
A beacon to Gaia.
A warning to outsiders.
We were doing it.
Strengthening the wards.
Keeping Castor’s Corner hidden.
Keeping everyone safe.
I was in it. Fully present. Fully powered. Buzzing with purpose and pride.
I loved this part. The trance-like state where it felt like even the trees were humming approval, the fireflies pulsing in sync with our chants, the whole forest breathing with us. Magic whispered across my skin like warm mist.
I tilted my head back, eyes closed, and belted out the chant:
“Gaia, grant us
Space to be,
Keep the outsiders out,
We offer thee
Our hearts and devotion,
To truly be
The corner where casting
Is done freely.”
Okay, fine.
The rhyme was a little fourth-grade poetry contest, but whatever.
It worked.
And hey, at least I didn’t drop an f-bomb mid-spell this time.
Nonna would’ve zapped my left cheek if I rhymed shit with lit again. And not in the fun way.
Anyway.
The magic swelled. The colors spun. I was riding the high, wrapped in moonlight and the power of sisterhood and sparkles when—something shifted.
Not just in the air.
Not just in the earth.
In the spell.
There was a ripple.
Something foreign.
Earthy. Electric.
Not ours.
I felt it—it was an energy that didn’t belong to the Trifecta.
It wasn’t malevolent.
It was vibrant.
Wild. Intrusive.
Alive in the way only the deeply confident or incredibly clueless could be.
And there wasn’t just one source.
There were three.
Simultaneously, Maribella, Donny, and I stopped mid-gyration.
The fire still roared behind us, casting glittery shadows across our bare skin.
We locked eyes.
The energy pulsed again.
And then—together, as if choreographed—we turned.
Standing just outside the glow of our bonfire, watching us like they’d stumbled onto a live-action fantasy calendar, were three of the hottest men I had ever seen.
And I don’t mean hot like attractive in a rugged, lumberjack-adjacent way.
I mean HOT.
Capital H, capital O, capital T.
But more like HOLY-HELL-WHAT-EVEN-ARE-THEY HOT.
They looked like they’d been carved out of midnight and muscle.
All broad shoulders, wicked jawlines, and simmering supernatural energy.
One had thick tousled hair and storm-gray eyes that locked onto me like a predator spotting its favorite snack.
Another leaned against a tree like it owed him rent, exuding cocky confidence and low-key danger.
The third, well, he had the kind of slow, smoldering gaze that made my inner thighs consider filing a formal complaint.
“Holy—” I started, the word dying in my throat.
“Gaia,” Maribella breathed, eyes wide as saucers.
“Have mercy,” Donatella muttered, sounding almost reverent.
There we were—completely naked, mid-ritual, magic practically dripping off us like glitter and pheromones—and these three supernatural smoke shows were staring at us like starving men at a fried chicken buffet.
And just like that? Realization dawned.
We weren’t alone.
The spell had been breached.
The wards cracked.
And if I wasn’t mistaken, fate had just RSVP’d to our moonlit naked dance party.
Shit was about to get very complicated.
But before I got into that, I needed to understand what I was looking at.
Man #1 stepped forward—tall, broad, and built like a professional rugby player who moonlighted as a Greek god.
The kind of man who could carry three kegs, fix your roof, and ruin your life with a smile. I bit back a groan.
I had a thing for muscular men. Who didn’t?
But this one? He was a walking, talking, six-foot-something-tall mistake in the making.
He had tousled dark brown hair, sun-kissed skin, and eyes that glowed.
Silver. Freaking. Eyes.
And they were locked on me like I was the last slice of birthday cake at a coven sleepover.
His grin? Wolfish. Dangerous.
The kind that said, I will ruin your panties and then your peace of mind.
Good Gaia.
I was naked.
In the woods.
And clearly not getting enough action.
My libido perked up like it had just been called off the bench.
No. Down, girl. Not the time.
Maybe I’d try Windr after all, even if magical dating apps gave me hives.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do casual to save my life.
I fell hard, got weird, and usually ended up hexing their toothbrushes after they ghosted me.
So, I stuffed my carnal instincts into a mental broom closet and turned my attention to his companions.
Bachelor #2? He was the biggest of the three, with dark hair dusted with gray and a neatly trimmed beard.
His warm brown eyes were calm, kind, and dammit, Daddy.
He radiated protective energy and smelled faintly of cinnamon and competence.
And Bachelor #3 had messy blond hair like he’d just run his fingers through it for fun, and green eyes that sparkled in the moonlight—like a forest sprite who bench-pressed trees for fun.
He looked adorably bewildered by our state of undress.
Then the first one—the silver-eyed panty-melter—opened his mouth.
“Excuse me, the name’s Jaxson,” he said, dripping with Southern charm and a sinfully sexy smolder, “and I was wonderin’ if you could help us? Is this Maccon City?”
Oh no.
Oh no no.
The other two at least had the decency to avert their gazes, but not this guy.
He kept his laser-focused eyes on me, drinking me in like I was a triple shot of espresso on a Monday morning.
My entire body lit up like it had just been plugged into a magical power grid.
And I hated it.
Kinda.
“No. This is not Maccon City. You’re in Castor’s Corner.
I’m Evelyn Castor—mayor and pissed-off citizen—and unless one of you brought a fire extinguisher, a peace offering, or a damn portal key to reverse a magical disaster, I suggest you stop smiling and start explaining,” I snapped, annoyed at him, at fate, and mostly at my own body for being so damn interested.
I let my hands settle on my hips, resisting the urge to grab a robe—or a pitchfork.
“Well? Care to tell me what the fuck you’re doing on protected land?”
Sure, I was furious about the invasion—but honestly?
I was more pissed at him for knocking me off-balance with that stupid smolder and sinful drawl.
That man should come with a warning label.
Or at least some sort of magical bell so a girl could mentally prepare.
I stepped in front of my girls—because apparently, I was the naked human shield now—and lifted my chin.
Defiant. Fierce. Utterly exposed, but still the boss.
Not that he was even looking at them.
His silver gaze was all for me.
His friends, however, were not-so-subtly eyeing Bella and Donny like fated mate energy was just wafting on the breeze.
Ugh. Whatever.
It wasn’t like I was flattered by his covetous gaze or anything. I wasn’t about to blush like some flustered fairytale virgin.
I had nothing to be ashamed of.
This was my magic, my moment, my body.
He could look all he wanted, but I wasn’t backing down.
I squared my shoulders and scowled. “Well? What are you looking at?”
He smiled slow. Too slow.
Like he knew he was dangerous and liked it that way.
“Perfection, Darlin’. Pure perfection,” he said, voice so rich and slow it might as well have been poured over hotcakes.
I shivered.
Gaia help me, the man had a Southern accent as thick as molasses and ten times as sticky.
I was weak.
Physically weak.
I clenched my jaw to keep from swooning right into the bonfire.
“But what the Goddess are you doing here? This is sacred land,” I snapped, a little more breathlessly than I wanted.
“It sure is,” he agreed.
Of course, he’s obnoxiously cute, too.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” I added.
He gave a slow blink and shrugged like a rogue cowboy with no shame.
“Honey, if I stopped starin’ at you, they’d revoke my man card. Now, what are you girls doin’ out here, dancin’ in the moonlight?”
I snorted.