Page 54 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

Or did Reynard simply change his mind about us once there was a bit of distance? But I cannot believe that, not with this terrible feeling that I can’t shake, that my heart is breaking over and over without him beside me. I suppose it’s a good thing that he never bloodbonded me or else I would probably be going insane right now and not just miserable. And would it really kill him to pick up a phone and call? We didn’t exchange numbers, but my mother is widely listed, and she could have put him in touch with me.

I just wish I knew what’s going on.

And if Reynard still looks as he did when I last saw him. He had still been recognizable but his body larger, the muscle bulky rather than his casual elegance with large hands tipped in long, curved claws several inches long. Even his facial features had shifted, becoming broader and sharper, sporting small horns on his brow along with four larger ones that curled back like a protective crown over his head. Even the faint shimmer of skin that almost resembled scales caught between gray and blue had caught my attention. It was almost demonic rather than vampiric.

No, I reconsider, not demonic.He almost looked like a dragon.

Either way, I want to hear all about it. But more than anything I just want Reynard here with me.

Yawning, I pull a fuzzy throw blanket over my shoulders as I walk through my living room in flannel pajamas and slippers. It’s not fashionable, especially since its well into November now and I am wearing a black sleep set decorated with grinning jack-o’-lanterns and googly-eyed bat slippers, but I’m not quite ready for the Hallow nights to be over and certainly not ready for the headlong pitch into the winter solstice season. Though this morning it certainly feels a hell of a lot closer. It’s not just chilly like autumn in the mountains in this part of the country. It is downright cold.

Pulling the blanket up higher until it covers my head, I peer out the window gloomily. I sigh at the sight of dusting of white powder over everything outside. I’d better get the rest of the stock mailed out before the roads snow in. There won’t be much coming and going after that. It is one reason that my cabin not only has several backup generators in addition to solar panels but also two large ice chests in the basement. I will be holing up for a good three months before any of the local plows from the nearby town make this far out.

I understood that when I built this property and stocked it well. The tradeoff for peace and quiet is worth it, and besides, I know how the road literally disappears and the conditions get treacherous with regular white out snows along with capricious, snaking roads. Everything looks pretty much the same once the first big snow comes. Once that happens, I doubt even a vampire will be able to find their way out here, not even one with wings since the uninterrupted forests tends to all look very much the same.

Maybe it’s time to accept that Reynard is not coming. After all, the city is only a couple of hours away and our horses are all under the hood.I give my head a shake to clear it.That’s depressing. Enough of that. There is still a week or so before the bad weather usually hits.

Beast sneezes at my feet, drawing my attention down to him to note that he’s looking and up me intently. I grimace. Of course, damn it.

“Make it quick.”

I open the front door for him, stepping back to let him dart through just as a blast of cold air snaps through the cabin. I keep an eye out for any opportunistic predators—and glancing around in vain for some sight of Reynard—as he does his business and then races back inside, but I nearly groan in relief when I can shut the door against the bitter cold air. Refusing to look again at the depressing view of snow as I pass the window, I follow Beast back to my kitchen.

Within minutes, he’s happily eating the fancy kibble his spoiled ass enjoys and I’ve put on the strongest coffee I own to brew. The pleasant smell of coffee quickly fills the kitchen as I pull out the pumpkin spice creamer from the fridge. I scowl at it as I give it a little shake.Well, fuck.

Setting it on the counter, I head back to the second fridge in the pantry and curse as I see that my stock of backup creamers in there does not include any other pumpkin spice ones. Somehow, I had grossly miscalculated my pumpkin spice usage. Had I been drinking more coffee since I returned home? It’s possible. I know I have been miserably cold without Reynard’s warmth near me. In the mornings I wake up cold and not wanting to even move. It was even worse this morning. And I’ve been nursing hot cups during the day whenever an extra chill fell over me.

I guess I have.

I grumble quietly as I pour the dark brew into my favorite mug that proclaims me the wickedest of witches—a gag gift from Paige several solstices ago—and pick the creamer up from the counter with a sigh. I will have to drink this cup extra slowly to savor the pumpkiny goodness. I may be the most basic kind of a witch for loving the stuff, but it makes me sad that, along with the snow, it is yet another reminder that the seasons are changing, and Hallows’ Eve is falling further behind me.

As I sip my coffee, my phone dings on the counter beside me, and I glance over at the app alert. Full moon. Crap.

Although the app gives a technical time and date for the exact moment the moon is full, werewolf biology, like witch magic, works within a three-day span. Which means that last night was the first night of the full moon and I need go out there to check the traps. As much as I loathe going anywhere in the winter, they’re even less inclined to head far from their pack territory unless necessity compels them to hunt. Regardless they never wander near enough in the winter to catch my scent and go into rut. Thank the gods too because I sure as hell don’t check the traps when there’s several feet of snow on the ground. But this morning I must.

Draining my coffee, I set the mug aside and stumble back up the stairs to my room to get dressed. Thankfully werewolves don’t stand on ceremony, and I feel no need to dress up to remove them from any of the traps. Dragging on a pair of black sweatpants and a bulky red sweater with my thickest pair of knit socks and gloves, all that’s left for me to do is shove my feet into my boots, pull on my coat, and grab my werewolf rescue device—a very long rope—before I’m heading to the door.

I whistle for Beast as I step outside, and as usual he comes charging out with only a mildly interested look in my direction. He has been clinging closer to me than usual lately as if sensing the slow dive of my energy, so it’s no surprise that rather than wandering ahead he circles close, his little tail wiggling as he sniffs at random lumps of snow. He enjoys the first snow of the season but will not be so thrilled when I pull out the winter booties and doggie coat for him.

“Come on. Let’s go rescue a werewolf,” I sigh because there’s bound to be one. There almost always is.

Hunkering into my thick coat, I stick my gloved hands into my pockets and make my way to the first of the traps. It is happily empty, as are the second and third ones. A naked man stares up at me sheepishly from the fourth, however, as Beast peers down at him from the edge of the hole.

“Sorry about this!” he hollers up, the corner of his mouth kicking up as he grins.

I shake my head at him with exasperation, because I know I’ve pulled this same werewolf out of the holes around here more than once, and step back to twist my rope around the nearest tree. He catches the end I toss down, and I back away from the edge, anticipating his quick climb. I don’t need to encourage any more flirtation that tends to come naturally to the males I haul out.

I arch an eyebrow and point in the direction of the northeastern border of my land. “I think you know your way out. I’m pretty sure your alpha will be out there, per usual.”

His grin widens. “But of course. He knows that there are few temptations as sweet when we hunt down this side of the mountain.” His tongue strokes over his lips. “Maybe it would save a lot of trouble if you came into the woods some full moon. It would be a lucky male who catches and knots you.”

“Thanks, but hard pass. I’m already spoken for,” I reply with a casual wave.

He gives me a long, assessing look, his lips pinching slightly. “Must be recent. Congratulations. You should tell him to stick closer to home. There are no scent trails around here, and something chased me halfway through your territory before I fell in that pit. I heard a crash nearby, and it was thrashing around earlier this morning, so I think it is probably in one of the other holes close to this one. I could go check with you if you like.”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. If it’s something unpleasant that hasn’t figured out a way to get out yet, I can just seal the hole until I can get officials out here to deal with it. Better that it’s someone legally recognized,” I add with a tiny smile. Gods certainly know that we ended up with a whole host of new and complicated laws when the nonhuman world stepped out of hiding. “But thanks for the heads up.”

He nods. “Okay then. If you change your mind and want some of the pack down here, the alpha’s number is listed on the Ogaldrun pack website.”

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