Page 29 of The Witch's Werewolf
But Jack worships his father and can’t wait for his approval.
Timber stumbles backward in pretend fright. “Please don’t eat me, Mr. Werewolf!” Timber cries.
Jack scream-giggles at his father’s antics. Timber picks up our son and looks over his faux fur costume.
“Looking good, kid. Have fun tonight.”
Jack pouts. “Can you take me trick or treating?”
Timber and I exchange a look. Halloween is tricky. Timber always errs on the side of safety, and usually disappears by 6 p.m.
Timber has never hurt any humans since that night with Toby Cook. Toby, meanwhile, never found out what attacked him that night. People did find out about his aggression with women, however. Grandma Morgan encouraged me to get a hold of the security footage from the street in front of the bank, and take it to the police. The police said they couldn’t do anything since he hadn’t actually put his hands on me. But someone, I couldn’t say who, leaked the footage to the newspaper. And suddenly a lot more women became a lot more vocal about their own experiences with Toby. Let’s just say I got very, very lucky.
After a stint in prison, Toby is a model citizen in another state. According to the rumor mill amongst the elder witches, he’s been behaving. That might have something to do with women not going anywhere near him due to the mysterious smell that he just can’t get rid of. I’m sure the elder witches had something to do with that hex, but they’ll never admit it.
As for Birchdale, our the new mayor is one of Toby’s former victims. And once a month, Grandma Morgan and I lead a magic club, where witches and non-magical people mix and share resources. We teach them how to responsibly do protection spells, money jars and simmer pots for positive vibes. They teach us things like basic self defense without the use of magic. Or a kickass banana bread recipe. It’s one of the highlights of the month, and it’s introduced a lot of new friendships for both me and for Alma.
“I can take you to GiGi’s house.”
“Okay! And Uncle Finn?”
Both Timber and I laugh at this. Finnegan hates trick or treaters. He insists on placing wards on his house every year tokeep them away. But somehow, he gets more and more visitors every year.
Timber and I think Alma is messing with him by doing the opposite of a warding spell, but neither of us is going to tell Finnegan that.
Together, we walk the short distance to Grandma Morgan’s house. Timber and I moved up to Colony Hill a few years ago, deciding that was the safest option for a werewolf and a witch to raise a family.
“GiGi!” Jack cries when he sees her in the group of elder witches preparing for the Samhain bonfires.
Grandma Morgan and the others have special games they play with the youngest trick or treaters, which gives Timber and I a moment to connect before he takes off into the woods. Tonight, the game is predicting the future with floating walnut boats and candles.
“Hi,” Timber says, pulling me behind a large oak tree.
“What are you doing?” I laugh teasingly.
My husband wraps his arms around my middle and kisses my shoulder. The oversized peasant blouse hangs loosely over my shoulders, showing off the mark.
“Marking my wife before I have to leave,” he says, dragging his lips over the “T.”
It might seem ridiculous, but I love how he grows more and more possessive of me as the years go by.
I never believed in werewolves before I met Timber.
But now, looking back, I think a part of me always believed in them.
I knew I had been waiting for someone special. I just didn’t know how special.
I shiver in his arms.
“Better cover up. I don’t want my wife getting cold without me there to warm you up.”
I trace my fingers down his chest, playing with the buttons at the front of his flannel shirt. “Jack’s spending the night with GiGi after trick or treating. Come find me before dawn and warm me up with your fur.”
Timber growls and captures my lips with his.
“I will if you promise to stay put and stay safe.”
“I promise to try.”
