The Witching Moon: The Witches of Redwood Falls - Book 1

by Janelle Daniels

  Halloween morning dawned as formidable as Drake’s mood. Thunder and lightning pounded the earth as the wind taunted the forest. Leaves scattered the floors, their fall jewel colors signaling the Beaver Moon that would occur in one week. There wasn’t a need for hunters to set their traps to stock up enough fur for the winter, but that didn’t matter. November’s full moon was still called that, and probably always would be.

  Walking down the street to Poppy’s cottage, he breathed deeply, absorbing the pungent air. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. It was too windy for one anyway. The deep hooded coat he wore protected him just fine. Besides, what would a little rain hurt anyway?

  He could taste magic in the air. Halloween was a day that called for it, for the mystical things of the night to have their time on earth. He’d been friends with Poppy since childhood, and there was no way he could deny the existence of magic. How could he? It wove through the blood of the woman he loved. It was as much a part of her as the gold in her hair, the moss color of her eyes, the gentleness of her heart, and the quickness of her mind. He wouldn’t change her for anything.

  Her ancestors were founders Redwood Falls, and their legacy had been passed down from generation to generation. Her power was a gift, but also a responsibility. And Poppy lived up to her birthright.

  He leaned a hand against a tree, a familiar ache spreading through him. He loved her, but would never have her. Because of magic. Because of the prophecy. He wasn’t fool enough to discount it, but it grated all the same.

  Magic didn’t rule him. He was a man of this world, a man with passion, with direction, with desire. He knew what he wanted, and that was Poppy. Since he’d been old enough to realize it, it had only ever been her.

  But they weren’t meant to be. No matter how close they’d gotten, no matter how much he’d wanted to be with her, she’d always pushed him away. She was promised to another. It didn’t matter who that person was, it only mattered that it wasn’t him.

  His fist clenched, the tree scraping his fingers, but he didn’t care. What did that small annoyance matter when it couldn’t come close to the pain in his heart?

  Why was he even here? Why had he said he would help her today? He should turn around. Just leave. Pack up his stuff and head out of town. He didn’t have to watch this happen, he didn’t have to watch her fall into the arms of another.

  But he would. He couldn’t leave. Not like this. Not without seeing her taken from him with his own eyes. He wouldn’t abandon her no matter the cost to himself.

  He pushed from the tree, his steps quick, determined. He may not be her soul mate, but she was his. And no matter what happened, he’d be there for her.

  He walked in without knocking. The habit so ingrained, he didn’t think about it. Hanging up his dripping coat, he called out, “You in here?”

  “Yeah, come back to the kitchen,” she called out.

  The air smelled like a mixture of spices, strong, potent, but still pleasant. He couldn’t place which ones they were. Even after all this time, she’d been unable to teach him.

  There was history here. With every step he took on the dark wood floor, a memory came to him. His eyes narrowed on the freshly polished planks beneath his boots. Poppy polished the floor four times a year, but it wasn’t time for it yet. He didn’t need to ask why she’d broken her routine, why the whole house was recently dusted, or why a full bouquet of hot house flowers rested in her grandmother’s vase on the entry table.

  She was expecting to bring someone home tonight.

  His gut clenched. She’d bring him here, of course. They couldn’t stand in the circle all night. The thought of them together, here, cut him to the quick.

  Needing a breath, he leaned against a wall, dragging in air. He didn’t want Poppy to see him like this. To see what a wreck he was.

  His head jerked up when she peaked through the kitchen door down the hall he was falling apart in. “You coming?”

  “Yeah.” He tried to sound casual as he brushed his hands on his pants. “Smells great in here.”

  “Raspberry leaf.” He raised a brow and she shook her head softly before turning back to her work. “It’s calming.” She picked up her pestle and crushed dried leaves of some sort into the mortar.

  He rounded the counter, hunching to see her working beneath a rack of drying herbs. “What are those?”

  “This and that,” she evaded. “Just restocking my supplies.”

  He tucked a blond curl that fell forward behind her ear and her motions slowed. She was so beautiful. Her hands were so soft and delicate you’d never imagine the strength they possessed. He’d imagined them all over him.

  He closed his eyes, cursing himself. Don’t go there!

  “I didn’t realize you were low on anything. Do you need me to pick something up?” he asked, hoping to distract himself.

  She blushed. “Actually… no.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  She ground a little faster. “I just need to keep myself busy.” His fist clenched under the counter top.

  “Do you want some help?” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t mind you putting me to work.”

  She looked at him then. Really looked at him. Her eyes softened. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Drake.”

  “You won’t ever have to find out.” He’d said the same things many times, but this was the first time he felt a twinge of doubt. Could he stay here and see her with another man? He wanted to think he was stronger than that, better than that, but he knew it he wasn’t. It would break him to see her with someone else. To see another man hold her, kiss her, as he had never been able to do.

  Her voice was so soft, he almost didn’t hear her ask, “Promise?”

  He turned away, muttering a curse. She gasped and his eyes sliced back to her. “I’m not made of stone, Poppy. No matter how much I’m trying to hide it, this is killing me.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He rounded the counter, gripping her arms. “Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want him. Tell me you wished you never heard the prophecy, that you don’t believe it. Damn it! That you’re frustrated and hurting as I am.”

  “Drake…”

  He jerked his head. “No. Don’t. Just don’t say anything.” She rubbed her red lips together, bringing him to his knees. “Don’t do that.”

  Her fingers stilled. “Do what?”

  “Your lips. I’m barely keeping my hands off you as is.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Why?”

  “You know why.” Her eyes turned wary, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “You’ve always known why. I love you, Poppy. I’ve loved you forever. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted and you’re all I’ll ever want.” He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’ve held back for years because it was what you wanted. But I can’t any more. Tonight you’ll meet him, but you don’t have to. You don’t have to go.”

  She shook her head in denial, but he cut her off. “It’s your choice. You can go and meet a faceless man, one you don’t know, one who doesn’t love you. Or you can stay here and be with me.” She gasped, trying to yank her hand away, but he held it firm and pressed it against his heart. His eyes blazed into hers. “Stay with me. Choose me.”

  Her chin shook, tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to turn away, but he held her, couldn’t let her go.

  “I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t, Drake. I can’t outrun this, I can’t ignore it. Whoever’s there tonight, he’s the one I’m meant to be with.”

  “You’re meant to be with me,” he growled.

  “No.”

  “How do you know? How do you know it’s not me?”

  Her eyes searching his face, looking but not finding what she needed. “I just do. The prophecy says things about him. Things that aren’t you.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

  His gut twisted. She’d never told him exactly what the prop
hecy said, and he’d never asked. He hadn’t wanted to know any of it. But now he did. “What does it say?”

  Tears tracked down her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  He nodded once. There wasn’t anything else he could say. He’d given her everything, all that was inside of him, but it hadn’t been enough. It never would be enough. He wasn’t the man from the prophecy.

  She stumbled away and sagged against the back of a chair once he released her. He looked his fill, knowing she would haunt his dreams forever. “Good luck tonight. I hope he’s everything you’re hoping for.”

  Her lips pressed together, and he couldn’t take the stabbing in his heart any longer. He walked away from her, from everything he’d ever wanted because it was what she wanted.

  He couldn’t force her to love him, to choose him. No matter how much he wanted her, it had to be her choice.

  And she chose the prophecy.

  Chapter 2