Page 22 of The Witch's Werewolf
But as I stalk back to Finn’s car, all I can think about is how she tasted last night. How she moaned. How her delicate fingers felt in my scruff. And how she screamed my name when she came.
Things could be good with her. They could be so good, but I have to get past tonight. Get out of the moon phase and come back down to earth.
It’s the only way to get to know her as a person. Because even in my human form, this time of the month still clouds my judgment.
As evidenced by the fact that I spend the rest of the day parked in front of the candle shop, and later, on her street when she goes home.
What will happen when I transition in the wild once again?
I’ll be seen by people on the lookout for the rabid dog, and that’s only going to lead to destruction.
And maybe that’s the best thing for all of us.
Better to be dead than live a cursed life and allow this incredible witch to be tied to me forever. Envisioning a future with Cherry, all I can see is her having to deal with my quirks and complications every month. Three days each month of me dragging home random carcasses from the woods. Three days of my insatiable lust with no foreplay. Not to mention the howling.
She doesn’t deserve that.
Cherry deserves to be free.
Chapter
Six
Cherry
I tellmyself that I’m leaving my door unlocked for Alma’s sake.
If something happens to me—vampire attack, werewolf attack, demon, lich, swamp monster, what have you in this town—I want her to be able to get in instead of busting down the door with magic. Door hinges are especially tough to fix after a magical battering ram.
That logic might not be sound, but it’s all I have.
I’m leaving the rest up to fate.
Hey, at least I’m staying home, just like Timber told me to do.
I fill my time with researching about werewolves. I learn all about the mating rituals. Marking. Knotting. It’s primitive and wild. Deeply fascinating stuff.
Would I let Timber do those things to me?
I spend the rest of the evening tidying up the cottage, putting those thoughts aside.
To my astonishment, the answer is yes.
But how did I come to this point?
Needing to give my anxious brain something to refocus on, I deep clean the baseboards and remove all dust bunnies from under my bed and the sofa.
Will Timber come scratching at my door tonight? Will he bust through a window? Does a werewolf know how to use a doorknob?
I can’t help but laugh at myself.
Through the kitchen window, the moon is rising, clear and bright for the third night in a row. Tonight begins the moon’s waning, so the influence won’t be as intense, I tell myself.
Sweaty from cleaning, I decide to shower while I wait for Alma to show up.
She texted a while ago saying she had some things to talk about with a friend, which I understand.
I miss my friends in New York, but I haven’t kept in contact with them. They’d want to know what I’m up to, and how do I explain that I’m studying full-blown witchcraft and not just the WitchTok influencer version of the craft? It’s far more complex than “A lot of you have been asking how to buy sustainably sourced white sage for smudging.”
