The Witch and the Werewolf

by Michele Hauf

  “How’s Peanut?”

  “Sleeping like an angel,” she said bravely.

  “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  Hurt that he’d suggest such a thing, she had to mark it off as his feeling badly for not having shifted. Again.

  “I want to stay with you, lover. Always. I want to climb in bed beside you and feel your skin against mine.” She leaned forward and caught his gaze. Moonlight gleamed in his pupils. Only there did the moon possess him.

  “When you look at me like that,” he said, “you make me feel like a man. Like you’ve never seen me with baby spittle on my shirt. Or raging because I’m frustrated. Or even down because of...this. You make me feel sexy, Mireio. And whole. You make me want to live.”

  She touched his mouth then, feeling the quiver of his struggle. Moving around in front of him on the step, she slid between his legs and gave him the gaze that made him feel like the world.

  “You are a man,” she said. “You are my man. You are strong and proud. You are so patient and flexible. Kind and wise. You make me feel protected.”

  “Will you...” He glanced aside, and she stroked his hair over an ear. But he couldn’t look back up at her. “Will you stay with me...for all of this?”

  Tears spilled down her cheek and she nodded, knowing exactly what he was asking of her. She would never abandon him. The idea was inconceivable to her. He needed her. He needed a hand to hold his. Someone by his side, for good and for ill.

  “You don’t have to ask,” she said. “I’m here, Lars.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “And you are here.”

  He bowed against her, cheek brushing hers and head landing on her shoulder. And she held him while the crickets chirped cautiously and the moon continued to taunt at its trick against the werewolf.

  Chapter 16

  The morning was no better to him than the night had been. Lars woke hugging his allotted eight inches of bed and rolled off, glancing over to spy on Mireio, who had claimed her usual queen’s portion of the bed. He had to smile at that. But when he straightened to stand, his back tweaked. He winced. Wandering over to the stove to put on a pot of coffee, he even felt the arches of his feet ache. It was as if he’d climbed a mountain wearing poor equipment.

  He stretched up his arms and did a few twists. Man, he felt exhausted.

  Coffee. He needed plenty. He flicked on the burner and put on a kettle of water, then noticed that Peanut stirred in the crib. He walked over, feeling as if he were an old man struggling against aging muscles, and looked over his smiling son. The kid never woke grumpy. Always that bright smile. So happy to be found, even though Lars suspected his diaper was mush. Which, when he thought about it, was the likely reason for his glee at finally being noticed.

  Grabbing a clean diaper, and lifting Peanut, he wandered over to the blanket still spread on the floor before the couch. When he bent, his back again tweaked and he stumbled forward. One hand slapped the couch and he just managed to tug up Peanut to his chest like a football and roll to his side before he hit the floor. The baby giggled, but Lars squeezed his eyelids tight. That could have been a nasty spill.

  He glanced over to the bed. Still sleeping. She hadn’t seen his mishap.

  “Your old man is feeling his thirty years today, Peanut,” he whispered as he changed the infant’s diaper. “I sure hope whatever it is I have, I didn’t pass it along to you. Whatever you do? Live life. Don’t waste a moment, okay? Make memories and...”

  He glanced over to the bed again. “And...yes. Make memories all the time. Don’t let death beat you to the end. Race that fucker.”

  With a determined nod, he knelt, fighting the pull of his sore muscles as he arranged Peanut under the baby gym. “I’m going to tilt back some coffee, then we’re going to make some memories today. What do you think of that?”

  Peanut kicked his legs vigorously and his fist pumped.

  “That’s what I thought. Good idea, right? How are you taking your milk this morning? Fresh from the fridge or with a splash of warm water in it? You know that cold stuff puts the hair on your chest? It does.”

  He wandered to the stove to check the kettle, which was already at a low boil. All he had left was some instant coffee, but that would serve. Stirring up the brew, he sipped. Heat trickled down his throat and warmed his gut.

  What to do today that he’d always wanted to do? He had never been a man of great and wild dreams. He lived a simple life; he took the days as they came to him.

  But life as he knew it had changed. And he wasn’t going to sit around and let his body fall apart and then suddenly drop dead. He needed to grab life and enjoy it.

  “Kayaking,” he decided. Dean had a couple yaks stored in the compound shed and he’d wanted Lars to try them out. “I’ll give Sunday a call and ask her to watch the babe.”

  * * *

  The lake was smooth as glass, for the wind had taken the day off. Mireio skimmed her fingers in the water, drawing up the energy and feeling it invigorate her entire system. As a water witch she drew her power from the wild vibrations humming in the lake. Felt like a jolt of vitamin B straight to the cortex.

  She’d worn her swimsuit beneath a life vest and almost felt compelled to jump off the kayak and into the dark depths, but Lars was paddling quickly and it was all she could do to keep up with him.

  “Slow down!” she shouted to the wolf, who stabbed an oar into the water to spin himself to face her. “I need to enjoy this,” she said. “Or are we still participating in the race portion of the event?”

  He chuckled and paddled up to her, gripping the edge of her kayak to hold them together. “Sorry. Got carried away. You going in for a swim, Miss Mermaid?”

  “When we get closer to shore. I brought my phone along, so I don’t want to lose it if I dive in.” She clicked a few shots of him with the camera. The man’s smile was easy. And those dimples were worth a thousand flashes. “This lake is beautiful. I’ve never been here before. And we have it all to ourselves!”

  Lars laid the oar across his kayak and leaned in. She met him with a kiss. “Wow, that one zinged me.”

  “Yeah? I’m in my element here on the lake.”

  “So what would sex with you be like in the water?”

  “I do have a very large tub at home that will fit two people.”

  “Challenge accepted,” he said.

  And then she remembered that maybe she could beat him at a race.

  “Race you to the shore?” She pointed to the distant shore that must be a good three or four hundred yards away.

  “So now you want to race?” He eyed her curiously. “No magic involved?”

  She pouted.

  “All right. Let’s see what the witch can do. But I get a head start.”

  “Go for it.”

  As he turned around and began to paddle off, Mireio pressed her palms to the water’s surface on each side of the kayak. Calling on the water elementals and summoning a swift wind from the depths of the forest edging the lake, the kayak soared forward. Quickly. It took only a few seconds to catch up to Lars, and pass him by.

  She waved and blew him a kiss. Arms spread out she tilted back her head as the rush of air breezed over her face and blew back her hair. Headed straight for shore, behind her she heard Lars cheer for her.

  The kayak docked softly in the sand and she pushed it up and set her phone on her bag, which contained a towel and dry clothes. Instead of getting dressed, she waded into the water and dove, swimming out to meet Lars, still fifty feet off. She surfaced near his kayak and treaded water.

  “Sing to me, mermaid,” he said, setting his oar aside.

  “You know if I sing to you, you’ll become enchanted and fall in. Then I’ll kiss you and drag you to the depths.”

  “Soun
ds like a sweet way to go.” He bent to kiss her.

  But Mireio suddenly realized what she’d just implied. That she could drown him. Why had she said such a cruel thing? The last thing they should talk about was death.

  Lars opened his eyes, still waiting for her kiss.

  She tapped his lips with a wet fingertip, then pushed away from the kayak, swimming on her back. “Race you to shore!”

  He beat her this time, though only by a hair. But he was cheating, not even paddling very much. She met him in the sand as he dragged up the kayak and only then did she feel okay to kiss him. Away from the depths.

  He lifted her and she wrapped her legs about his hips, keeping the kiss. Their connection always started easy, then picked up to a deep and delving intimacy that soared through her every nerve ending, brightening her soul as if with a million volts. Nowhere else did she feel as if she’d found her place but in Lars’s kiss. His mouth. His soft, sexy beard. The skim of his mustache beside her cheek as he moved to whisper at her ear.

  “Today has been a good day.”

  “Best day ever,” she agreed. “Thank you for giving the mermaid a chance to swim.”

  “I haven’t forgotten the bathtub challenge.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “You want to get something to eat?” he asked as he loaded the kayaks into the pickup bed. “Someplace fancy?”

  “Fancy?” Mireio looked over their attire. Lars wore long swim trunks and a wrinkled T-shirt. And she wore a sheer swim cover-up and sand-covered flats. And she was pretty sure her hair would dry a disaster. “I’m dressed for McDonalds, though I crave steak and potatoes.”

  “We’ll swing by your place and let you change. You think I’ll pass muster?”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve but to smile at the hostess with your pearly whites. Flash those dimples, and give a suave rub of your beard, and you’re in. Anywhere.”

  “What if it’s a host?”

  “Same result. Trust me.”

  At her place, she slipped into a flowered sundress that fell below her knees but fit her body like a hug. Flats felt appropriate with the dress, even though it would make her look as though she was a child standing next to Lars. She didn’t care.

  Skipping outside to where he waited by the truck, she saw Mrs. Henderson had discovered the hunk and was chatting him up.

  When Mireio approached Lars, he said, “Your neighbor has been doing some research online about the Sasquatch. She thinks it only comes out on the night of the full moon.”

  “Oh. Did you see it again last night, Mrs. Henderson?”

  “I did not see it. Exactly. But I did hear some mysterious rustling in the cornfield behind our houses. It was a very particular rustling.”

  Mireio and Lars exchanged winks.

  “Particular rustling. Hmm,” Mireio said. “You should be careful, Mrs. Henderson. I certainly hope you don’t go outside after dark.”

  “I would never! But I do have my camera set up on a tripod now so I can take pictures from the window. Your Lars was telling me he didn’t think Sasquatches were a danger to humans.”

  “Is that so?” She clasped hands with him and he squeezed her fingers quickly and added another wink. He was feeling fine today, and she loved that he’d been able to enjoy the day and not fall into a funk. So this teasing she encouraged. “I imagine they are more afraid of us than we them.”

  “Oh. Do you think so?” Mrs. Henderson’s eyes widened as she peered beyond the houses toward the backyard. “I wonder what they like to eat? I might leave out some lettuce.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Henderson,” Lars said. “You stay safe inside. Don’t try to approach the beast if you see it again. In fact, give Mireio a call and I’ll come over.”

  “You will?”

  Again, he winked. “Promise.”

  “You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that I’ve such a big strong man willing to protect me.”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Henderson. We’re on our way out for supper. See you later.”

  The neighbor stood curbside, watching them drive off, and only when they’d turned the corner did Mireio laugh. “She’s got a crush on you.”

  “You think? But what would she do if she learned I was her Sasquatch?”

  “That’s not going to happen, is it?”

  “Fingers crossed.” He crossed his fingers and drove toward uptown Minneapolis for seafood on the rooftop at Stella’s Fish Cafe.

  After eating, they strolled, hand in hand, back to the truck in the parking ramp near the Lagoon movie theater. Mireio decided that since Lars was in such a good mood now might be the time to toss out what she’d wanted to suggest to him since seeing him so down about being unable to shift.

  She turned and walked ahead of him, backward, and he slowed and grasped both her hands. “I’m going to say something to you,” she said, “and I don’t want you to react. Just think about it a little before you rush out with a quick no. Promise?”

  “I’m not sure I should make a promise when a witch says something like that to me.”

  “Please?”

  “What is it?”

  They stopped before the parking ramp building. The moon was high, and neither had mentioned anything about the fact it was the day after the full moon and that Lars should want sex right now in order to stave off the irresistible urge to shift.

  “What would you say about letting me and Valor and Geneva work a healing spell on you? Now listen. Valor and I are not expert healers. But Geneva has some amazing talents. And we witches simply cannot bring back the dead. But maybe our healing skills could help you. In some way? Would you be willing to give it a go?”

  He tilted his head, fixing his gaze on hers. When his jaw tensed, she expected a definite no. So when he nodded and said, “Okay,” she plunged into his arms for a hug.

  “Thank you. I want to take care of you,” she said.

  “I know that. If a bunch of witches want to work their witchy magic on me, what’s there to lose?”

  “Maybe your pants.”

  “What?”

  She led him into the building’s shadows and walls of concrete cinder blocks. “The healing works best in water. We’ll plop you in my tub and see what we can do.”

  “I thought we had a date to get it on in the tub?”

  “It’ll happen. But first let me try this? I’ll give them a call and we can do it tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, Sunday’s got Peanut until morning. I figure we should take advantage of the free time while we can.”

  Lars sighed and nodded again. “I’m in.”

  Chapter 17

  Valor and Mireio were busy blessing the bathroom with sage and witchy chants, while Lars stood by the big round marble tub. He felt out of his element, and was a little freaked by the suggestive looks the third witch, Geneva, was giving him. Sleek black hair hung straight to chin level and she wore some kind of fitted yellow silk dress that gave her a cosmopolitan flair, yet Mireio had told him she was as Scandinavian as the rest of them. With a finger to her red-lacquered lips, her bright sapphire eyes took him in.

  The tub had been filled with warm water and sprinkled with Epsom salts. Now Valor began to tap some sparkly dust into the water, which she explained to him was actual faery dust courtesy of her boyfriend, Kelyn Saint-Pierre. The Saint-Pierres were a family of wolves, a vamp and a couple faeries. Lars had never met them, but he was aware the eldest brother, Trouble, lived up to his name.

  “You can get in now,” Mireio said to him. She clasped his hand and hugged up against his side. Her blue eyes beamed up at him with such wonder and respect Lars always experienced a second of disbelief that he’d actually found a woman like her.

  “Uh.” He eyed Geneva and she winked at him. Whispering
to Mireio, he said, “You know I go commando, sweetie. I’m not sure about this.”

  “You don’t want to get in with your clothes on. And garments will only impede the magical energies. Go ahead. They won’t watch you undress.”

  “Oh, I’m watching,” Geneva said as she circled around to the vanity where the witches had set candles and incense and crystals and all sorts of mysterious magical accoutrements. “Strip, big boy.”

  “Geneva,” Valor admonished. She finished the circle then walked to the doorway. “We’ll stand out in the hallway, Lars. You two let us know when you’re ready. Come on, Geneva!”

  The witch pouted and slowly glided toward the door, yet when out in the hallway, she kept the door open and, even though Valor turned her to face away, she cast a thick-lashed wink over her shoulder.

  “Ignore her,” Mireio said. “She’s not interested unless your bank account has a minimum of ten figures. Besides, she’d have to go through me to get to you, and she knows that’s not worth the fight.” She helped him tug up his shirt and then unbuttoned his jeans.

  Lars caught her hand over his waistband. “I can do this.”

  “I know. But I’m always so eager to get your pants off, lover.”

  “Not around those two,” he whispered.

  “Are you going all Mr. Shy on me again? They’ve seen naked men before. And you have so much to flaunt.”

  “You’re not making this any easier,” he said as he shoved down his jeans and stepped out of them, now completely naked. A glance spied Geneva and she was looking right at him. Her brow arched and she dragged her tongue along her lips. Lars clasped his hands before his cock, which, despite his embarrassment, was quickly growing erect. “I knew there was something about witches that should creep me out.”

  “Not me?” Mireio pouted at him.

  “Never you.” He kissed the crown of her head, then stepped into the tub. It was warm and inviting. Sinking down, he noticed Geneva was the first in.

  “Now that’s something to be proud of,” Geneva said as she clapped softly. “Bravo!”