Page 5 of Knot the Witch Next Door

“Yes, an Omega from Burlington. Claudia’s certain they’ll be the perfect match. The families are actually going to meet this weekend.”

No. Deacon was mine.Mine.

He wasn’t though. Not at all, and the force of that possessive thought was frightening. Just because an Alpha was compatible with an Omega didn’t make them good together. Deacon likely thought I was just another little sister, and there was no way he would be interested in mating with me.

“Isn’t matchmaking outdated? I’m sure Deacon wouldn’t go for such a thing.” The eyes I was carving were too uneven and jagged, but so were my frantic thoughts.

“I think arranged marriages are outdated,” my mom agreed. “But Claudia’s family is very traditional. It won’t work if they aren’t compatible, and there’s only a small chance of that. Besides, I trust Deacon knows what he wants and will make the best choice for himself despite his mother’s plans.”

“He is stubborn. I remember that much.” At least my mind could be set at ease on one level knowing that Deacon wouldn’t do something that huge just because his mother wanted him to. She put a lot of pressure on her children, but he followed his own path, and I admired him for it.

Yet what if he was compatible with the Omega from Burlington? What if she was pretty and charming and normal unlike the Halloween crazy witch who lived next door? I couldn’t compete with normal. Not that I wanted to be. I loved my weird self.

The problem was: did I want Deacon to love my weird self too?

CHAPTER FOUR – Deacon

“Deacon!” It was the third time my mother called me. I knew very well she could see I was handling hot iron and couldn’t just put it down to see what she wanted. But when mother wanted something, everyone jumped.

I cooled the piece I was working on in the bucket of water, and once the steam had stopped, I set it carefully on the counter and lifted my face mask as I turned to face her. “Yes?”

Mom stood in the garage door that led to the house. Her arms were folded and her impatience clear. “I asked if you got your suit pressed for dinner on Saturday.”

I fought to not roll my eyes. “The suit is still in my closet in the dry cleaning bag from last time I’d worn it and had it cleaned.” A suit that was more than three years old and would in no way fit me anymore. Not that I was going to tell her that. Dressing up for dinner in our own house was ridiculous. I didn’t care who our guests were; not that I knew who they were anyway. “I’ll remove it from the bag tomorrow, so it can air out. It’ll be fine.”

“Good. Everything must be perfect.” Mom started to turn and then looked at me pointedly. “You will remember to be ready early. Our guests will arrive around five o’clock. Don’t make any other plans for the weekend.”

The whole weekend? It was only one meal. “I’m going with Rose and Sam to the Price Orchard and Farm for the photo shoot. We’re leaving at noon. I can’t imagine it will take more than a few hours.”

“Ah yes, the pre-wedding photo shoot. Who did Rose end up hiring to do it?” Her phone was fast in hand as she texted. “These need to be just right for the thank you cards and the table centerpieces.”

Leaving her to my sister’s wedding stuff, I turned back to the twined iron ring cooling on the counter. I’d set up my portable forge in the garage that morning with a very particular project in mind. The piece was looking good, but it was still misshapen, especially with having to set it down too soon. Another hour or two, and it would be just right.

“Dear Lord!” Mom burst out with the most horrendous curse I’d ever heard coming from her, and I startled, turning around with worry. “She has Carmilla doing it? That girl is no professional.”

I sighed as she marched back into the house, closing the door behind her as she called my sister.

Carmilla.

A smile lifted my lips. I’d agreed to go with Rose and Sam to help out, but I hadn’t known Carmilla would be there. Now Saturday was looking fantastic.

I remembered chasing her through the corn maze at the farm. My sister would get scared, but Carmilla was fearless. It wouldn’t surprise me if she convinced Rose and Sam to do the shoot there as she’d always loved the place.

I lowered my mask with a renewed focus. I’d get this trap door ring finished and installed on the tree house by the end of the day. The paint was already waiting in the corner of the garage, and I’d sawed a few boards to replace the cracked ones. I only had to finish this piece as my final surprise for Carmilla.

After two more interruptions, I polished the ring with its witch’s hat ornament. I attached it to the hinge and installed it on the tree house door. Once the boards were fixed, I painted the walls inside with a lush autumn orange. I’d taken a box of glow in the dark stars from Kat’s craft supplies and stuck those to the uneven tree house ceiling.

What would Carmilla think about it? I wanted to be there when she first saw it. To see the joy on her beautiful face and to marvel at the sparkle in her eyes.

But I also wanted it to be a surprise.

I returned to my house with a war brewing inside of me. Should I go over to the Rookwood house and invite Carmilla out to see the tree house, or should I just let it happen and wait to hear about it? I craved to be there to share in her happiness, knowing I was the one who brought it to her. I wanted to be the one to make her smile every day for the rest of her life.

It was ridiculous for me to think these things. We had grown up together, but we didn’t know each other as adults. The most of what I knew of Carmilla was filtered through Rosemary, and she never had a bad thing to say about her, but that surely couldn’t be the full picture.

Last night, I woke several times with my dick hard and throbbing. Dreams of fucking Carmilla every which way dominated, but there were also the ones where we made a life together, had beautiful children, and I held her in my arms every chance I got. Just taking care of her and being together, that was my version of heaven.

Rosemary’s irritated snap brought me back from dreamland as I walked into the kitchen. “Mom, I’m not having a newspaper reporter take the pictures. I’ll not be seen as an editorial piece.”

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