Page 14 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Axel cut the ignition on his truck, sitting for a moment, staring at the front of his cabin. The witch hadn’t been there today. Not that he was hoping to see her again during his weekly trip into town. He scoffed. The day he wanted to see a witch was the day he’d officially gone mad. But that didn’t stop his eyes from darting to the table by the window. The same table she sat at last week.

He told himself it was merely her trespassing that had gotten under his skin. And the fact she was a witch. She’d used her fucking magic on him. It triggered something buried inside him and he’d lost control. He hadn’t meant to tackle her. There was no mistaking the raw fear in her eyes. A woman didn’t look like that unless she recognized the signs of aggression, which meant this wasn’t the first time someone—a male, presumably—had handled her roughly.

His jaw clenched.

This was why he lived in isolation. Why he put ‘KEEP OUT’ signs around his property. He couldn’t be trusted. The wolf in him was too ancient. If she had adhered to the signs, none of this would have happened. There were plenty of places to hike in the Thornbacks. Plenty of well maintained trails around Redding.

So… Why his property?

When he’d gone back to reclaim her broken device, he couldn’t make sense of it. It wasn’t like any GPS unit he’d seen before. It was something else entirely. More…scientific in nature.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have smashed it.

Sighing, he climbed out of his truck and slammed the door, opening the bed to remove his groceries. He stored them in his cabin, then grabbed his supplies from Pine and Iron and stomped off in the direction of his workshop.

The weather held a slight chill as autumn approached. The breeze tickled his skin and he caught a faint whiff of chamomile and honey. It carried the distinct zing of witch blood. He paused and sniffed again but the smell was gone. He could have sworn…

No, he shook his head, clearing the scent from his nose. There was no way. No way she was brazen enough to disregard his warning. Not after what had happened last time.

Letting out a low growl, mostly in irritation, he deposited his supplies and went back to the truck. He closed up the bed just as the scent teased him again. He stood a full minute, motionless, his hands gripping the back of his truck, simply breathing.

It was probably the witch blood affecting him so badly. Or so he told himself. He’d been forced into close proximity with witches several times after what had happened, but he’d never reacted quite like this.

He inhaled and felt his pupils dilate, so he counted to ten. It didn’t help.

“Daft woman.” Cursing under his breath, he stomped off in the direction of the smell.

A thousand scenarios crossed his mind, of what he ought to do when he found her. Would she use magic again? He hadn’t been lying. If she tried it, the wolf in him would react. It wouldn’t be pretty.

He traced the scar across his face.

Fifteen thousand acres was a lot to most, but he needed the space. The turnout point she’d used placed her about two miles from his cabin. He assumed it was where she’d parked again.

Knowing he’d cover more ground as a wolf, he removed his clothes. Then he let the change take over. The shift was fast, faster than it was for young wolves. He snatched up his clothes in his mouth and took off, covering the distance at a faster pace.

It was easier to see like this, too. Even though his mutilated eye cast the world in a blur, albeit a sharper blur. One that made it easier to navigate the uneven ground, littered with rocks, forest debris, and fallen trees.

When he was nearly upon her, he dropped his clothes, shifted back and got dressed. He used his nose to find her. The scent of chamomile and honey was stronger here. He tried not to let the distasteful essence of witch poison it.

His steps were silent as he came upon her.

For a moment, he just watched her like he’d done before. She stood in the middle of a small clearing, her bottom lip between her teeth, staring down at a device in her hands. Identical to the one he’d broken. Did she have a whole damn collection of them?

His eyes traced her. She was curvy in a nice way, with an alluring hourglass figure. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than his, with more gold and red in the strands. She had a soft, round face and large, hazel eyes.

It was a shame she was a witch, really. He might have found her attractive. More than he’d found anyone in a very long time. Not that he was interested in that sort of thing anymore. And why the fuck was he even thinking about that right now?!

He stepped out into the open. “I thought I told you⁠—”

She sucked in a gasp and dropped her device.

“—not to trespass on my property, witch.”

“Oops.” The little breathy word was out before she backed up a step, taking in his livid expression. He let her see it. Let her see how much he hated her kind. How little tolerance he had for people who didn’t respect boundaries.

“Starting to think I didn’t make myself clear.” He reached for the knife at his belt, pulling it free. For theatrics, mostly. He didn’t think he would need to use it. Hoped he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t dare attempt to harm him with magic, would she? If she did, he’d be ready. No witch would ever hurt him again.

Her eyes widened, dropping to the blade.