Witches Get Stitches

by Juliette Cross

  At her words, a powerful pulse of magic rocked through my body. A vision of the slivered new moon popped into my mind, hanging above us at a witch’s round in our back courtyard. Then a flash of Nico’s face, his eyes electric green, his canines extended from his half-open mouth, a vicious expression reflecting the pain of his wolf transformation.

  “Damn, why didn’t I think of that before?” I whispered to no one.

  “Think of what?” asked Jules.

  “The ink for werewolves needs to be spelled on the new moon.” I stood suddenly. “I need to go and check something.”

  Ruben stood as well. “I’ll get my men on the lookout for this pack,” he told Jules.

  As the overlord of vampires in this region, his only immediate supervisor was Jules, so he reported to her.

  She stood, too. “Thank you. I’ll alert my channels as well.”

  I left the room, quickly heading for Jules’s library, needing to get my hands on that book by Marigold Lord. It was the physical connection I needed to confirm the vision I’d just had.

  The book was a treasure trove of witch sign. Witch sign were markings we used in casting circles and spells, to channel our magic to do what we wanted it to do.

  Think of our magic as being like a remote control, and the witch sign was like flipping the channels. The problem was, I didn’t know what fucking channel to flip to for helping werewolves control their rage issues.

  Maybe that was the problem. I was too focused on controlling their highly emotional nature, when their passion—whether it was violence or lust or something even stronger—was part of their nature. Maybe that couldn’t be changed, even by strong magic.

  Because that’s what it came down to, I learned after a little light reading last night. If the wolf is threatened or someone they care about is threatened, then the only response is shift then maim. Not even in that particular order.

  There were hundreds of historical examples on the SuperNet. Since Jules was, well, Jules, I was able to study up on what others had found could help werewolves.

  Know what I found?

  Nothing.

  Because no one seemed to have ever given it a shot. I supposed it all went back to the fact that the one who actually cursed and created the first werewolf was a witch hunted by the hunter she cursed. And since every generation of witches had kept werewolves on the outer perimeter of the supernatural circle, werewolves had never had access to the kind of magic they needed. Witch magic.

  Not until me anyway. Because I was going to fix this. I didn’t give a shit if every witch and warlock snubbed their noses at me for doing it. They could all suck a bag of dicks. It was ridiculous that in the 21st century, they were still clinging to old prejudices that not only spread hatred, but also danger and violence. The only way to heal old wounds was through mercy and kindness. And one thimble full of fucking compassion.

  Nico’s face appeared in my mind. His expression was guarded despite his easy-going nature. I wanted to wipe that look from his face permanently. I didn’t want him to doubt himself. To fear himself. How horrific to even contemplate that what lived inside you could do irreparable harm to a loved one against your own will.

  I plucked the book off of Jules’s shelf, knowing exactly where it was since I’d been reading from it excessively lately. The book fell open in my palms to a page with a passage entitled Black Moon. This was another name for the new moon when it was fully in shadow, and the witch sign to call upon cleansing and transformation.

  A rightness hummed through my body, magic singing through my veins. My psychic power whispered reassurance. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  As for the incantation, my magic never failed me when the time came.

  “Thank you for that.”

  I turned at Nico’s voice in the doorway. His face was blank, but his rigid stance told me he was riddled with tension.

  “For what?”

  He blinked, a flare of tenderness sweeping from him. “For saying something no witch ever has.” He glanced down at the book in my hands. “For trying to help us.”

  Swallowing the sudden well of emotion that tightened my chest, I said softly, “I’m not going to try. I am going to help you.” My breath quickened. “I promise.”

  His gaze roved over from my eyes down my cheek to my mouth then back up, his haunted but grateful expression keeping me frozen on the spot. With a sad lilt in his voice, he said, “You already have.”

  Then he quietly left, leaving me with a hammering heart. But also new determination to use every ounce of magic I had to forever wipe away that look of painful despair from Nico’s beautiful face.

  Chapter 10

  ~NICO~

  * * *

  Mud boots. Rain slicker. A case of water.

  I mentally checked off my list as I lined up the last items I’d need for my monthly trip. I’d pick up a few snacks on the way out, but I kept the cupboards stocked with canned soup if I needed. I rarely did, letting my wolf eat his fill of the wild game in the swamplands of Bayou Sauvage.

  I rented the place from an old Cajun whose hunting days were long gone, but he wanted someone to still use the property. Of course, he had no idea I wasn’t going out to take advantage of duck or deer season. I used it year-round, every month. The perfect place, far from prying eyes. And from innocent people.

  As I chucked my hiking backpack onto the bed, my ears pricked. A soft voice and familiar scent drifted up from the courtyard. My senses knew who it was immediately. A prickle of awareness skated over my skin, drawing it tight. My adrenaline spiked and my cock twitched.

  Combing my fingers through my hair, I shook off my body’s natural reaction to her nearness. Or tried to anyway, then headed downstairs and into the courtyard.

  There she was, sitting in the grassy side yard, her pretty head bent over Fred. For a second, my heartrate spiked. I glanced over at the fountain, but then realized she couldn’t see the sculpture from where she was sitting.

  Would it matter if she did? Maybe it would clear things up. Or maybe she’d think I was a creep.

  I strode forward, trying to figure out if she was actually doing what it looked like she was doing.

  “What in the world are you putting on him?”

  She didn’t glance up but kept on painting. “OPI nail polish, Aurora Berry-alis.”

  “No. I mean, why are you putting pink nail polish on a rooster?

  “He likes being fancy.”

  I paused a second before taking a seat in the grass across from her, stretching out my legs and leaning back on my hands. “You don’t think he might want a more masculine color?”

  “Real men wear pink, Nico. Haven’t you heard?”

  This woman. She was half crazy. And I loved it.

  “Must’ve missed the memo.”

  “Well, that’s why you have a well-informed and super smart business partner.”

  “Of course, it is.”

  She finished off a—a what? Toe? Talon?—then set Fred free. Rather than run to get away, I swear the damn bird strutted past, eyeballing me as he went. He puffed up his feathers then meandered toward the fountain, pecking in the grass.

  “How did you come to domesticate a rooster?”

  She laughed. “He’s not really tame.”

  We both watched him strutting through the grass.

  “Well, he apparently enjoys pedicures and bowties. I’d say that’s pretty civilized.”

  Her smile grew warm.

  “What are you thinking?” I couldn’t help but ask. Longing to discover everything about her, I always wanted to know what she was thinking. What she liked, what she disliked, what made her laugh and smile. What made her angry or upset so I could avoid doing any of those things.

  “About how I got him. Jules had this call from a witch friend of hers. Her friend told her there was definitely some black magic being practiced in the house next door. So Jules, Livvy, and I went to check it out. We found evidence of animal sacrifice and some witch sign o
f blood spells. Dark magic.”

  My pulse lurched at the thought of her in the vicinity of danger. “Did the witch resist?”

  Husky laughter bubbled out of her slender throat. “No way. Jules nulled her the second we walked through the door. The aura of black magic was heavy, and since it’s a crime to practice, Jules didn’t wait to ask questions. When we checked out the house, I found Fred in this cage on the back patio. He was so scrawny, but he was pissed off and still haughty as ever.” She huffed another laugh. “Reminded me of an old aristocrat in one of those historical romance movies that Clara watches all the time. The ones that bluster about all snobbishly. His feathers on his head waggled furiously as he clucked at us. Anyway…” She sighed. “I took him home and fell in love with him.”

  Chuckling at that, I asked, “He’s old, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Like way older than any rooster should be. Isadora’s magic keeps him going, though.”

  Fred pecked at a bug or something in the grass in the corner of the yard. “So you and Fred have had a long relationship,” I teased, still watching him.

  “Look. I’m well aware that it’s a sad admission that my longest-standing relationship has been with an ornery rooster.”

  When I turned back, I caught Violet staring. Interesting. I wish I was an Aura like her sister. Then I could read her emotions and know what she felt for me.

  Was it the same dizzying desire that I felt? Doubtful. I expended an inordinate amount of energy restraining my thoughts and feelings for her. I’d become adept at hiding behind casual friendliness. But Violet wasn’t like that. Her emotions spilled out of her eyes and her mouth.

  Her mouth. My brain took a detour to catalogue all of her lovely features. This was nothing new, of course. If she actually knew how often I covertly stared at her without her knowing, she’d have put a restraining order on me by now. Stalking doesn’t even cover my obsession with this woman. I’ve been coveting her from afar so long the ache in my chest has become an old familiar friend.

  Still, I couldn’t stop myself from taking advantage when I could. Like now.

  At the moment, she seemed to be contemplating something quietly. I let her so that I could drink her in. The perfect slant of her jaw, rounding at a strong, feminine chin was smooth perfection, reminding me of the sleek slope of the neck and headstock of my favorite guitar. The sharper jut of her cheekbones just a little too high on her face elevated her from pretty to striking. Her smooth forehead and those feline eyes always alight with mischief. And that fucking mouth.

  I could dedicate lines, pages, entire journals of poetry to the pouty curve of her lower lip when her expression was relaxed, and how those lips transformed into the most carnal seductress when they ticked up into a half-smile. If she would ever give me the green light to cross the friendzone, she’d have to beat me off her.

  Her curious gaze traced the lines of my face then flickered away, focusing on her lap while she twisted the top of her nail polish.

  “I’ll be gone a couple of days.” I switched subjects, pretending my mind hadn’t wandered onto a lusty path.

  “I know.” She rolled the bottle of nail polish between her palms, thinking. “How long exactly?”

  “Be back Friday. But I’ll have the shop looked after while I’m gone.”

  “I can watch the shop just fine.”

  Clearing my throat, I clarified, “No, I mean, should Shane and the others come back. They should be out of the city, too, but just in case.”

  She tilted her head, the lavender ends trailing over her breasts.

  Fuck, don’t look at her breasts.

  It was hard enough to not get a raging erection whenever we were close like this, when I could smell the faint scent of body wash—lavender and lemon—and could feel the warmth of her body and hear the beat of her pulse.

  “Nico.” She jarred me out of my sensory overload. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.” She smiled patronizingly. “You do realize I could beat the shit out of you and any other guy who came waltzing through my door unwanted, right?”

  I nodded. I knew she had strong telekinetic powers, though I’d never actually seen her in action. “Still, Devraj and Ruben said they’d take care of it.” My fingers drummed on my thigh. “Just for my peace of mind.”

  Rather than make a big deal about it, thankfully, she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. Whatever.”

  “You still have my key in case you need something for Fred, right?”

  “Mmhmm.” She picked at the grass distractedly for a second. Then her gaze dropped to my forearms covered by long sleeves. “I’ll need to give you the tattoo when you return. After I have a chance to spell the ink with the new moon. So think about what you want.”

  “I will. I’ll have nothing but time to think while I’m out there.” I blew out an exasperated breath, not meaning to sound cynical but knowing I did.

  Her blue eyes flicked to mine before settling back on my covered arms.

  “Did you want to see my sleeves?” Referring to the ink.

  “Uh, yeah. If you don’t mind.”

  She’d never asked before, but she’d stared often enough, always trying to get a better look. I scooted closer, my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, then pulled my sleeves up to show her.

  She dropped her polish, then jumped up to kneel, sitting back on her heels. Leaning over, she grasped my right wrist first. “Wow.” She trailed a finger along the blank line of evergreens, towering high, then around the full moon enveloped in wispy clouds and the eyes of the wolf woven into the trees like an optical illusion.

  I had to swallow the moan of pleasure from just the tip of her finger trailing along my skin, igniting electric currents in my blood.

  If she had any idea what she was doing to me, she didn’t let on. She just let that arm go and grabbed the other, leaning even closer to the second scene, a continuation of the first arm with a cabin in the woods, a flock of ravens lifting off, and yet another wolf hidden among the trees.

  “This was Zaire’s cousin’s work, right?”

  “Mmhmm,” I managed.

  “He’s so talented. Maybe I should’ve tried to steal him,” she said on a laugh before tracing the eyes of the larger wolf again. “He looks sad.”

  I couldn’t comment. Her loose hair had fallen forward and brushed against my skin at the wrist. I imagined what it would feel like brushing over my thighs with her head bent over my lap when she took me in her mouth.

  Then her words drew me out of the gutter with a softly whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Reining in some seriously lascivious thoughts, I asked, “About what?”

  She sat back on her heels, hands back in her lap. “I guess I just never put myself in your shoes. The way it must be for werewolves. Until recently.”

  Here’s the thing about Violet. She never held back her thoughts or opinions on any topic. Not once since the second I met her, except for the obvious monster of sexual frustration sitting between us. Usually, her thoughts and opinions were delivered with a heavy dose of sarcasm or mocking humor.

  But the look on her face right now—soft sincerity—was gutting. It tore something open inside my chest. It made me want to curl around her, strip her naked, and fuck her on the lawn. Then hold her close till the stars came out while I whispered words of adoration in her ear.

  But she was still talking, and I kept perfectly still, willing myself not to reach for her.

  “I did a lot of research, and I’ve just become so aware of how insanely stupid the supernatural society is.”

  “Come again.” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Bunch of goddamn pisswizards.” She rolled her eyes disgustedly, a face I was familiar with but not when referring to the entire world of supernaturals. “I mean, sure, okay, I understand that the first, second, and maybe third, fourth, fifth generations of witches following the curse of the first werewolf would be total bigots about the whole thing. But we live in a modern age where
people are supposed to be more self-aware. You know what I mean?”

  “Maybe. Not sure. No.” My grin grew as she blew out a breath of exasperation at my density.

  “Someone should’ve helped werewolves by now. Witches should’ve made amends by now. You can’t curse an entire species just because their great, great, great, whatever-the-hell grandfather was a complete fuckface, making life a shit-show for all of his descendants.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what she did.” I was amused, not upset by her tirade. Somehow, her anger lightened my mood. “Hence, the reason I’m shuffling off to the middle of nowhere for three days every month.”

  The pinch between her brow became more pronounced. She swallowed hard as she examined my face with close scrutiny before clearing her throat.

  “Well, I’m going to fix it,” she said in that haughty way of hers.

  “Don’t doubt it for a minute.”

  “You’re making fun of me?”

  “Never.”

  “Then why are you grinning?”

  I shrugged a shoulder, unable to tell her that I couldn’t help but smile when she said she was going to conquer the world because, one, I believed her and two...two...

  I wanted Violet Savoie with every leaden beat of my besotted heart.

  Before I could answer, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. When I pulled it out and saw who it was, I had to make a quick decision. Violet glanced at the screen, my phone flat in my palm. When her eyes widened and a frown puckered her brow, I knew what I had to do.

  I answered. “Hey, Layla.”

  “Hey! You’ve been busy lately. I can’t seem to reach you these days.”

  “Sorry about that. We’ve been slowly opening the new business, and it’s taken a lot of my time.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t bother you, but Gigi misses you. And she’s been begging to talk to you. Hang on.”

  A shuffle then that sweet angel’s voice said, “Hey, Uncle Nico.”