Page 95 of His Whispered Witch

“No more inspirational speeches for donkeys? That’s what you’re saying?”

“I mean, they love you. They’re used to it. I’m just saying it’s not having the effect I think you want to have.”

Asher snickered and relented, pulling up the gate and walking behind the herd to tap their hindquarters to get them moving. “Okay, fine.”

She waited beside the door as the donkeys streamed out, then laced her hand with his as they headed down the green toward the festive balloons set up at the front of one of the racetracks.

There were four dozen people spread out on the lawn beside the track, not just his relatives, but also the Abbott coven, and even the rival pack of Dukes who were enemies fifty years ago and were now in-laws.

They were still mostly in their own groups on the hill, but his wolf acknowledged the family ties.

“I’m going to go talk down the colt,” Penn whispered, kissed his jaw, and slipped away.

She’d slipped seamlessly into the Scott Ranch horse business. With two hundred head on the land, there was probably never going to be a lack of work, but the surrounding farms had immediately begun to send for her as well. She’d protested that she thought West Virginia was going to be even more insular than Colorado, but he had to remind her that she was on the inside. When word got around that the Scott stables had brought in some fancy animal psychologist, they all wanted in on it. Her days were full, and she loved it.

He got the donkeys set up on the starting line and resisted the urge to wax poetic about their new job freaking out frisky stallions a little but not too much.

Would you?he asked, and the wolf obliged by flashing in his eyes until they froze.

He always asked now and didn’t order. He knew most shifters had to play dictator in their own system, but that didn’t work for either of them.

Moira and Paul strolled by, and Moira waved something. “The best yet!”

Asher frowned until he recognized the waffle in her hand.

He’d gotten up at four in the morning to make a celebratory breakfast instead of grits for their morning meal. Kathleen had called him insane.

It was the one point of contention with the wolf who had thought that all the experimenting with disgusting food would be over now that they were home, but Asher found himself in the role of pack cook along with his aunt. She’d protested wildly that she didn’t need the help, but the first time she got to sleep in for two days in a row, she promptly handed breakfast to him. Nothing tasted as good as the fire-roasted dishes he made in that cabin, but he loved that he was no longer cooking for himself.

The first night he made curry, Malcolm had threatened to finally take him out, and he toned down the spice after that, shocked to realize how much his tolerance had built up. He was slowly increasing the levels now. He’d get them closer, though their hyper-sensitive shifter tongues would never be able to tolerate the authentic recipes.

He took his position in the starting line behind his row of donkeys as Penn led out Excalibur.

The colt was rapidly losing his knobby knees as he sprouted up, but he was still as frisky as a newborn. No one would be riding him. They wouldn’t try to break him—put a saddle on his back—for another year. This was mostly for desensitization and fun.

At the last moment, Penn swung Oz down from her shoulder where the little lizard had been perched to join the four donkeys and the stallion at the starting line.

“You’re going to get stepped on,” she said, though she didn’t sound worried about it.

“Is that everybody?” Malcolm called, and Asher half expected Moira to show up with one of her snakes.

She’d taken the viper away to her snake house. It had taken Asher two months to visit and see the animal that had causedhim such grief. It was a regular black snake. Moira had even taken it to a vet to see what, if anything, was different about it, but the vet didn’t run screaming from the room at the thousand-year-old serpent. It was a normal asp, an adult of uncertain years.

“And on your marks, get set, go!” Malcolm said.

“Go, go, go!” Asher added when the donkeys didn’t move. Immediately, they trotted forward.

Excalibur took off like a shot, overtaking them and then heading off the track into the middle of the field to run around in his own circles. The bearded dragon panicked and climbed Penn like a cloth-covered tree to perch on her head.

The assorted crowds laughed and cheered as the donkeys ran out of steam fifteen feet from the finish line and started wheeling about as well.

Asher burst out laughing and had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Malcolm clapped a hand on his back, and he stood back up.

“I haven’t heard that in fifteen years,” Malcolm whispered.

Asher grabbed him in a squeezing hug and pounded him on the back, mostly to avoid the look in his eyes. “Thank you. I know I said it before but thank you.”

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