Page 77 of Hexy Beast

“Believe me,” she says as she looks over at me and smiles. “I can take care of one alpha werewolf all on my own.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Effie…

Everyone is here. Leona and her (formerly) secret husband, Erik. Tilda and her boyfriend, Gil. Juniper is standing off to the side near where Nikos disappeared, her ponytail mostly still high and bouncy, while Bea has the satisfied look of a woman who just cleaned someone’s clock.

“All went well with Kyle and his friends?” I ask.

“I sent them home early without dessert,” she says, cryptic as always.

Juniper joins us with that faraway look in her eyes that she gets when she’s working on translating an ancient spell.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She blinks a few times before giving me a grin as she shoves what looks like Nikos’s medallion into her pocket. “Fine. Just doing some mental math. They have some incredibly interesting ancient runes here.”

Usually, I’d follow up to find out what she’s up to, but these aren’t usual times. For example, my dad and the man I love are currently facing off in some sort of shifter showdown while my mother rolls her eyes.

Looking around at my family and now my pack mixing and mingling, I finally understand that the Sherwood family magic didn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of being the heir when it bypassed me. It just meant that I had a different path.

I am the heart witch, and I will bring the werewolves and the witches together to take on the Council.

All this may not have been fated, but the path had already been laid, and I’d chosen to take it. I look up at Darius, and he’s looking back at me with so much love on his face that it makes my breath catch.

I wasn’t rejected. I was only waiting to meet my pack, my love.

“Is this where I’m supposed to make the outlaw-for-an-in-law joke?” Dad asks, putting some extra bear shifter gruffness into his tone.

My mom lets out a sigh. “Stop trying to scare your future son-in-law.”

“It’s a father’s prerogative,” he argues, puffing up his chest, which is massive even without the posturing.

“And a mother’s prerogative is to enjoy the way her husband looks in a tuxedo at their daughter’s wedding.”

Dad gives her a flirty wink. “You like me in a tux, huh?”

“Every man looks good in a tuxedo,” she practically purrs. “You look phenomenal.”

“Ugggghhhhhhh,” all of us Sherwood sisters groan as a single unit.

I shoot Darius a sorry-for-all-this look, but he seems fascinated and not the least bit weirded out by the family interplay. This is good, because this will be pretty much how every family get-together will go from here to eternity.

“I’ll wear a tux, but only if I get to walk my pumpkin down the aisle”—he cuts a glance at Darius, who he’s said all of ten words to and about a million about—“so I can bare my teeth at that wolf while we’re up close and personal.”

“Daddy,” I groan.

“Fine,” he says, almost looking properly sheepish. “There will be no baring of the teeth.”

Mom claps her hands together, centering everyone’s attention. “So shall we get this show on the road? Girls, I’m assuming you brought the cauldron with you?”

“Of course,” Bea says as she snaps her fingers, and the Sherwood cauldron appears in front of them.

“Shall we?” We all grab hands, and Mom is about to lead the wedding chant when she stops. “No, this isn’t right. We’re missing someone. Darius, come over here. If we’re going to be family, we might as well do all this together.”

“I’m not a witch,” he says as he hangs back.

“Neither am I, but it never gets me out of any of this magic stuff,” Dad says with a conspiratorial wink. “It’s usually fun, unless it’s one of the spells that involves frog toenails. The smell is worse than a hockey jersey after a game that goes into six overtimes.”