Page 6 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Actual seasons!

I made my way across the quad. It was peppered with students. Some sat at picnic tables with textbooks open. Others lounged in the grass, chit chatting. I bit my lip, nostalgia taking over.

My student days had been far more carefree. Part of me missed that. Missed the structure of taking courses and turning in assignments. Waiting in nervous anticipation to see test scores. Late night cram sessions before exams. The camaraderie that came with knowing everyone else was on the same boat.

I exited campus, coming out onto Main Street. One of the great things about RCC was its location. It had been built around the town, merged in a way that made owning a vehicle completely unnecessary for me. Though I did have one, I barely used it to get around.

Striding down Main Street, I let myself take it all in. Redding looked like a postcard for every small town in existence. Having come from Walton, one of the biggest cities in the country, it promised a way of life I was completely unfamiliar with, but already falling for.

I quickened my steps until The Roost came into view, a local coffee shop I discovered my second day here. Just thirty seconds inside and it became an instant favorite. The kind of place I wanted to visit every day.

The bell jingled overhead as I stepped through the door, immediately enveloped in warmth and the rich aroma of coffee and baked goods. There were exposed beams, mismatched furniture, and soft string lights that made it feel like someone’s cozy living room rather than a business. I exhaled, immediately relaxing. Spotting my favorite table near the window—mercifully empty—I made my way toward it, pulling my bag over my shoulder and setting it down before heading to the counter.

Iris saw me and her face lit with a smile. She was petite, with a healthy number of piercings, and a sleeve of colorful tattoos on one arm. Her black hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she’d gone with an alluring shade of red lipstick today. “Back again?”

“You know I can’t stay away,” I teased.

“Few can. What would you like today?”

I glanced at the case. “How about one of those orange scones? And clotted cream if you have it? And I’ll do an herbal tea, since it’s a bit late in the day.”

“Sure thing. The vanilla chamomile is a good one.”

“Perfect. Let’s go with that.” I handed over my card, putting my info into the tablet on the counter and adding a tip.

“I’ll have it out to you shortly. Oh, did you get the step ladder I left on your porch?”

“Yes, it was a godsend. Thanks again.”

I needed it to hang some of my wall art. Like any good neighbor, I’d gone next door—where I’d found Iris. Turned out that she wasn’t just the barista here at The Roost. Something I was beyond grateful for.

“Great, you can just tuck it against my porch when you’re done. Take your time.”

“Will do. I appreciate it.”

I slipped back over to my table and began setting my things out, then powered on my laptop. I had another lesson plan to create. I hoped to stay several weeks ahead, just in case I got sick. Veteran instructors could reuse lesson plans, tailor them from year to year. Since this was my first year with my own courses, it was going to be a lot harder.

Iris came over with a massive scone and cup of tea. I shuffled my things around as she set both down. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks.”

She moved over to check on a couple of patrons. They sat in the overstuffed armchairs by the gas fireplace. One of them had a book, the other had a laptop on his lap, working.

The door chime rang and I happened to glance up. I did a double take as a pair of broad shoulders filled the frame. My mug of tea froze halfway to my mouth.

It was him!

The feral werewolf.

I’d thought about him approximately four million six hundred and twenty seven times over the past week and a half. Mostly of how much I hated him. How I would blame everything on him if I couldn’t find the witchbone knife. If I couldn’t get my magic back.

I’d also spent plenty of time thinking about how unfairly handsome he was, despite his cold, off-putting demeanor. Why? Why did the handsome ones have to be assholes?

He took two steps into The Roost, then his head snapped in my direction. When his eyes locked on mine, the distance between us stretched taut. I refused to cower. This wasn’t his property. He had no power over me here.

What was he going to do? March over and throw me over his shoulder? Hem and haw? Tell me I needed to leave town?

I glared at him. His expression didn’t change. He blinked, then turned away like he’d never seen me before, like he had no idea who I was. I gaped at his back. His audacity!