Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 22

~NICO~

“Just putme where I won’t be in the way,” I told Clara, now that I was standing in their private garden gated off from the rest of their courtyard. Ivy wove thickly around and through the wrought iron gate so that it felt very secluded.

Clara smiled and took my hand. “You won’t be in the way. You’re supposed to be here.”

“Am I?”

Clara was Violet’s twin, but also the opposite in every way. While Violet was direct and straightforward, Clara was enigmatic and puzzling. Where Violet was wild and untethered, Clara was sweet and nurturing. Like right now, she guided me gently around the witch’s circle chalked onto the concrete slab at the center of the garden, making sure I was taken care of.

I’d texted Violet before I came over, just making sure it was still okay, unsure if her sisters would appreciate me there. She told me that after talking it over with Clara, her twin said it would be better for me to be there. Then she promised me there was nothing to be afraid of, especially since she’d had a talk with Clara, informing her that she couldn’t dress up for the occasion and scare the hell out of me.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but Violet assured me that this wasn’t like their monthly witch’s round where they re-energized their magic. She would be leading the spell-casting and, finally, that I was wholeheartedly welcome.

Clara looked at me with a question in her eyes. “You’re a Taurus, right?”

A little surprised, I turned to her on the other side of the chalked circle. “How’d you know?”

She just smiled. “I’m thinking end of April is your birthday.”

“The twenty-seventh.” She wasn’t a psychic like Violet, so I was confused how and why she knew I was a Taurus.

“Have a seat near your birthday.” She pointed to one spot near the wheel then glanced over her shoulder and whispered to me, “I knew you’d eventually get to her. My sister’s really smart but really slow when it comes to her own heart.”

I’m sure my expression showed shock, but before I could react, she went on.

“You Taureans are always good at the long game.” Then she gave me a playful wink.

“Um, thank you? How’d you—?”

She waved a hand like she was batting away an insect. “You did the right thing. Patience and planning. When I realized you were a Taurus, my money was immediately on you.”

I shook my head at Violet’s twin, who apparently knew I’d been infatuated with her sister all along. She just acknowledged my strategy to wait Violet out.

I wish I could’ve said it was a strategy. It had been more that I was unable to let go of my hardcore obsession. And then later, when my wolf recognized his other half, there was no way I was going anywhere. Still, I felt like it was new and tenuous and fragile, so I handled this precious baby with gentle hands. I sure as shit didn’t want Violet to catch us talking about it when she came out here, so I switched subjects.

“I’m not a witch.” As if she didn’t know that. “How can my presence in the circle help?”

“You’re a werewolf,” said Violet, walking into the enclosure, holding a mason jar of what must’ve been black tattoo ink with Livvy right behind her holding two white pillar candles. “This spell is to help your kind, so having wolf magic present during the casting can only help. I’m just surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”

I nodded and took a seat outside the witch’s wheel, which was intricately chalked onto the smooth stone pavement. With careful and decorative lettering, the wheel was labeled with the Celtic seasons—Beltane, Lughnasa, Yule, and Imbolc—as well as rune symbols.

“Hey, Nico,” said Livvy with a smile. “Welcome to our round.”

“Thanks,” I said uncomfortably.

I’d never seen witches cast spells. The only one I’d seen in action using his magic was the warlock Conduit who’d helped heal members of the pack when I was with the Blood Moon brothers.

Violet set the glass jar of ink in the middle of the wheel, directly on the smooth concrete, then she leaned over me, gripped my face, and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“Was that for luck?” I whispered when she pulled back, still holding my face.

“No. That’s because I wanted to kiss your fine face.”

I laughed a little nervously, glancing at her sisters sitting in their places around the wheel, simply smiling at the two of us.

“So I guess the secret’s totally out.” I sat at an angle, stretching my legs out behind Violet. “Jules knows?”

“Everybody knows,” Livvy chimed in with a laugh. “And I do mean everybody.”

Clara’s smile widened as she stood. Lighting the end of a sage bundle, she walked around us, smudging the space, whispering inaudible words. The smoky mixture of scents filled the space—cedar, lavender, sweet grass, and juniper. Violet arched a superior brow, seemingly proud of herself about something.

“What am I missing?” I asked.

“So, apparently Violet had a really good afternoon yesterday.” Livvy pulled her feet tighter beneath her crisscrossed legs. “And she decided to come have a few after-work drinks before she met you for dinner.”

Violet had been happily tipsy when I showed up at her loft with Thai takeout last night.

“Do you want to tell him or can I?” asked Livvy, looking at Violet.

Clara set the smudge stick down in a wooden bowl filled with black sand next to the candles and ink, then took a seat next to Violet, who shrugged and said, “I’m not embarrassed. Go ahead.”

“Right when she got your text about bringing dinner over, she set her phone down, then climbed on the bar and demanded JJ turn off the music so she could make an announcement. Just so you know, at this point, Jules, Isadora, and Clara were eating in the back corner since they had some bookkeeping questions about Maybelle’s for Jules. It was a light crowd, but still, there were actual strangers present for this announcement. Anyway, Violet gets everyone’s attention and shouts to the bar full of regulars since it was happy hour.” Livvy braced both hands around her mouth, apparently mimicking Violet last night at the bar. “My boyfriend is Nico Cruz, local musician, business partner, and first-rate pussy-eater. I suggest the rest of you guys take lessons on how to do that proper if you wanna keep your girls happy.”

I huffed out a laugh while the other three were already cackling. I turned to Violet. “You said that?”

“Sure did, and I don’t regret it.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.

“How drunk were you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d only had two Blood Orange Old Fashioneds, though I think JJ might’ve put an extra shot in the second one. I was hounding him for details on him and Charlie, which he did not give to me.”

Clara sighed heavily with a dreamy look. “They’re so cute together.”

“We can get the details out of Charlie later. He’s much more likely to spill under pressure.” Livvy glanced up at the sky. “But we need to get this show on the road.”

Violet glanced up. “Yeah. Let’s move into the zone, ladies.”

“What should I do?” I asked, suddenly feeling awkward. Nervous.

“Nothing.” Violet smiled at me.

“Actually,” interjected Clara, “when it feels right, I think it’s best if you pull your wolf forward, almost into half-shift.”

Now uncomfortable, I cleared my throat, glancing over at Violet “That’s not really a good idea.”

Clara reached over and patted my hand, shooting me a wave of euphoria.

“Yes, it is. It’s exactly what we need.”

I turned back to Violet, wanting some sort of explanation for Clara’s advice.

Violet shrugged. “If Clara says so, then she’s right. Trust me.”

“I do. I trust all of you. It’s just… That could be dangerous.”

All three of their faces slid into a smile at almost the exact same moment. It was a little disconcerting.

“We’ll be fine,” Violet assured me. “Even if you fully shift, nothing can hurt us in our round. Don’t worry.”

“And how will I know when it feels right?” I asked Clara.

“You just will.” She smiled sweetly.

Licking my lips, I nodded and said nothing else. I still felt uncomfortable, but they were all completely confident in whatever was about to take place.

Violet picked up a piece of chalk and crawled on all fours to scratch a symbol in each corner. She chalked one directly in front of me. They seemed familiar, but still nothing I’d seen before in my studies of ancient runes. I spent one summer devouring everything on ancient civilizations, including the Romans, Gauls, and the Celts.

“Celtic?” I asked her.

She finished the strange symbol and smiled up at me. “Witch’s runes. It’s witch sign, to channel the right energy into the spell.”

“Did you use them last time?” I asked.

She shook her head, a frown puckering her brow. “I hadn’t thought about it till that vision I had with you. When I asked about your scar. Remember?”

“Of course.” How could I forget? She’d gone into a sudden trance, her magic a soft hum cocooning me in palpable energy.

“Ever since then, I’ve been studying that rare book on witch sign that Ruben had gotten for Jules when Mateo had that curse put on him.” Her expression was full of wonder and confidence. “And the book’s been giving me everything I think we need. Other than the visions my magic has been sending me.”

Surprised, I wondered if this was the first real step to help all my werewolf brethren. Because if this worked, it could fundamentally change the fabric of werewolf society. Possibly even the supernatural society. Over time, anyway.

The stigma of being the psychotic, violent race of supernaturals wouldn’t go away any time soon. It could still take decades, even centuries, depending how well the tattoo controlled our inner beasts.

I lifted a hand with crossed fingers, giving her a reassuring smile. Her frown faded, her expression shifting to one of resolve. Determination.

That’s my girl.

Then she sat back into her place and set the chalk aside. The three of them braced their palms on their knees and closed their eyes. In an instant, I felt the sharp punch of magic filling our small space. It wasn’t just ethereal, it was tangible. While I couldn’t see anything, there was an undeniable energy weaving into the circle, their skin beaming with a luminous glow.

The three of them remained perfectly still, an otherworldly wind lifting their hair as it wove around us. But the strongest light beamed from Violet, a halo of power circling her. My wolf growled, sniffing the air at the foreign presence, then huffed as if to a friend. I’d never felt witch’s magic like this. It was so different from wolf magic.

Werewolves were cursed. Our magic was heavy and oppressive and violent, then sometimes it flipped to tap into the creative aspect, driving us like a freight train with artistic impulses. But it was always a lashing force, pushing against the skin. Hence, the reason werewolves were so dangerous. The beast could literally leap through our skin at any moment.

But this…this was so very different. It felt like being washed with power—both airy and fierce. No less powerful than that of the wolf, but elementally different. It felt like a soft ribbon skimming across my face, which could just as easily cut down to the bone. And still, I wanted to touch it, hold it, and swallow it down, let it absorb my entire being.

It was attractive by the very definition of that word. Magnetic. A force pulling me toward it, making me want more, then I felt and smelled a scent on the stream of magic.

Violet. This was her. Not all three of the witches’ energies, but her essence whipping through the air, flowing around and through me. I swallowed the lump in my throat at the realization that I was inhaling and gulping deep breaths of my mate’s magic. It was, in a word, magnificent.

My mate.

I needed to tell her. For us, the wolf was the one who chose. From the second he sniffed her out on that rooftop bar in Austin, Texas, I knew she had to be mine. The only problem was that now that I’d finally gotten her attention, and even though she was declaring our relationship on bar tops to the public, I was terrified she’d change her mind about us.

I wasn’t sure that other supernaturals besides wolves felt that innate draw toward a mate. Her refusal to date me for two years told me that obviously she didn’t. But the wolf wasn’t wrong. And regardless of what he wanted, I wanted her. Body and soul.

Her voice echoed eerily in the circle, pulling me from my desperate thoughts.

“Goddess Divine, hear my call.” Without opening her eyes, she lifted up her hands, palms facing down over the jar of ink. “Black moon’s power holds the key. Calling your singers by destiny. Give them the right that they should wield, their power, control, a solid shield.”

Then her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, a string of French words where I only made out ecoutez and obéit. Her mouth moved swiftly, the words no longer decipherable, then she clapped her hands together, punching the space with power. Two things happened in that second. The glyphs she’d chalked, the witch sign, electrified with light and my wolf surged to the surface of my skin.

I moved backward into a crouch, not completely outside the circle, but enough so that I could leap out of this enclosure if my beast took over. My nails extended into claws, my canines slid out, my jaw widened, and my bones stretched into an agonizing slow break. My legs lengthened without changing shape entirely. I could feel the fur wanting to push through my pores.

I heaved air in and out, a ghastly panting filling the round. But still Violet and her sisters didn’t open their eyes or move a muscle. Only Violet’s lips continued to move as I reached near-panic having her so close to him. A paralyzing fear I wasn’t even aware existed sprouted to the forefront of my consciousness.

What would she do when she saw what I was? It was one thing to know that werewolves transformed into monsters. It was quite another to meet them in the flesh. I tried to resist the shift, to push him back. Just when I was sure he’d crush me under his will and burst fully through my skin, Violet whipped one hand through the air. A wind whirled in a torrent, snuffing the candles in one breath, and the sizzling magic vanished.

Staring at the ground, I let my head fall and gulped great lungfuls of air as my wolf receded. My hands were splayed on either side of a glyph that looked like a winter tree. I stared down at it, noting the remnants of magic, like fine grains of airborne glitter lifting away from the chalked symbol.

I wondered at the residue of Violet’s power vanishing into the ether, thinking it felt like a loss of something beautiful. I wanted to capture it and store it in a vial. Carry it with me always.

It wasn’t until I felt Violet’s presence at my side, kneeling in front of me and coaxing me with gentle fingers in my hair that I finally came back to myself. Looking inward, I knew that my wolf had receded, but the choking fear of rejection still hovered at the surface. A grimy, dirty sensation I didn’t want to feel.

I’d never been ashamed of what I was. I was born this way, and I wouldn’t apologize for it. But I also understood that we were considered the lowest in hierarchy among supernaturals. I’d never experienced the dread of Violet’s rejection because I never thought she’d see him, be confronted with the monster that lived inside me.

“Hey.” A whispered word of consolation, then soft lips on my brow. “You okay?”

I cringed at the sickening emotion welling inside me, at the shame of her seeing a part of me she might find repulsive. At the gutting fear of her rejection by her kind like what I’d experienced in Austin and other places.

“Yeah,” I finally said, voice rough and raspy.

Her delicate hands cupped my face, lifting my downward head. I’d fallen to my knees at some point. Felt like I was still falling.

“Look at me.” Gentle words.

Easing back onto my heels, I noticed that Clara and Livvy were gone, as were the candles and other things. Even the ink. I frowned, wondering how long I’d been sitting there. I hadn’t heard them leave, and my senses were usually attuned to everything.

“Nico.” Warm fingers stroked along my jaw.

When I finally met her gaze, there was genuine concern there. “What happened?”

Violet may have the dirty mouth of a sailor, but the truth was that she was a fucking angel straight down to her core. Her heart was encased in gold. A giving, caring soul I wanted to hold and cherish. And her beauty. I fucking ached to look at her. Those cerulean eyes—alert, watchful, compassionate. Would those eyes look at me differently if she saw what was underneath?

I swallowed hard. “Have you ever seen a werewolf in his beast form?”

“Not in real life.” Her delicate fingers still brushed along my jaw, soothing me. I tried to turn my head away, but she held me firm and forced my face back to hers. “What’s wrong?”

Licking my lips, I just told her, knowing this wasn’t something I could avoid if we were going to be together. To stay together.

“The wolf is truly a monster.”

“I’ve seen video footage on the SuperNet. And photos.”

“It doesn’t repulse you?”

She laughed. “No. Why should it?”

Why should it?

This was Violet’s unconcerned response. Unafraid, unapologetic. Not even remotely disturbed.

She scooted forward and lifted onto her knees, still stroking me with soft fingers. She arched a brow playfully then whispered, “Actually, I think it would be kind of a turn-on to see him.”

I huffed a disbelieving breath. “What?”

She played with the collar of my shirt, one finger tracing the line of my collarbone to the notch at the base of my throat.

“Nico,” she said in a serious tone, all lightness fading away before she lifted her gaze to mine. “No part of you could be a monster. I don’t care what you say. Your wolf is part of you, so I—” she stammered and cleared her throat—“I care for him as much as I do you.”

Cupping her face, I dragged her against me and swept a rough kiss against her lips, drowning her in my emotions without saying a word. She whimpered into my mouth, which only drove me to go deeper, to devour.

Wolves were hungry creatures. Werewolves were ravenous. And the only flesh that could possibly sate my need was the witch I pulled onto my lap. But for some reason, it wasn’t sex that I needed or even wanted right now. I just needed to hold her in my arms and feel her closeness, her warmth, her pounding pulse.

She straddled me on her knees and tilted her head, giving me perfect access to her throat. I groaned at her submission.

“Violet, do you know what that means to a wolf?”

She nuzzled her face against my neck then whispered in my ear. “I’ve been reading a lot about your kind. When a woman or man offers her throat to an alpha wolf who is a lover, she’s offering to be the wolf’s one and only.”

When offered by a mate to an alpha, it means even more. But I bit my tongue.

“Do you want to be my one and only?” I asked, voice rumbling rough as rock.

She pulled back, her face inches from mine. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, like a panicked bird’s wings. “Yes.” She licked her lips nervously. “And I want you to be mine.”

Staring intently, I held this moment in my memory, wanting it to burn through flesh and into the marrow of my bones. Finally, I kissed her softly, melding our mouths with gentle sweeps.

“Then I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

She exhaled a heavy breath and buried her face in my neck, hugging me tightly. I did the same, stroking slow circles on her back, feeling my woman so sweetly tucked in my arms. The magic from the round still lingered in the air, encircling the two of us with ethereal essence.

It felt like a blessing.

And our beginning.