Page 43 of Son of a Witch

Something thumped on the opposite side of the bench. Three freshly killed chickens. Tonight’s dinner for several families.

“Don’t worry about him.” A female dunked one of the chickens into the boiling water. “He’s mine. Very protective, like a growly bear. Aren’t you, babe?” She glanced over her shoulder and made eyes at her mate.

Steele grunted back at her, the promise in his eyes one of protection and love.

“He’s just watching me.” She submerged the second chicken in boiling water, leaving it there for several seconds.

Pain lanced through my chest. Mom used to do the same to soften the feathers and make it easier to remove the down. Nostalgia held me captive as I watched the female pluck the feathers from the first corpse and discard them into the bin by the edge of the bench.

I peeled the fish skin off and sliced the flesh into fillets. “You’ve been following me too. Thought I smelled a female.” Didn’t see her, though.

She smiled at me, jerking roughly to remove the stubborn patch of plume from the chickens’ necks, under their legs and wings. “I’m good at not being seen. Fading into the background.”

“Your name?” I surveyed her.

Curved like Sarah. Plenty of flesh on her. Good for rearing pups. Only she limped when she moved to kiss her mate and calm his nervous growl. No wonder she faded into the background. Injuries and deformities labeled her a weak and unsuitable mate in the animal world. I smiled, pleased that she found a mate who overlooked the brutal conventions.

“My name’s Heather.” She got the last of the hard to remove feathers from above the feet, threw them away, then brushed her hands down her apron.

“Nice to meet you.” I lowered my defenses at the one shifter in this place beside Sarah who showed me kindness.

Fuck. All this was too much and reminded me of my lost family. The one that never accepted me. The one my mom chose over me.

The second fish fell from my hand.

“Raze, right?” The female glanced at me.

“Yeah,” I grunted, wanting to go back to my cabin, light a fire, and sit with my thoughts for a few moments.

“Give it to me, baby.” Steele swept the chicken from her grasp and thumped the lifeless carcass on the bench. “I’ll do the bloody stuff.”

A warning to me not to get too close to his mate and the promise of what he’d do if I stepped out of line.

I chuckled. “Too many dicks swinging in the wind in this place.”

She laughed back, a high-pitched sound that restored some of my lost warmth. “Yeah, it’s a bit like that.”

Steele scolded his mate with a soft growl and pulled his hunting knife, cutting the head off the dead animal. When that didn’t have the intended effect to intimidate me, he thumped harder with his weapon. I almost laughed in his face.

She smiled at his close and protective proximity. “Thanks, honey.” She pinched his jaw. “You’re so hot when you’re possessive.”

He nipped at her fingers. “I’ll show you possession tonight.”

Her cheeks stained pink, and she limped over to slap him on the ass.

Animals didn’t get embarrassed about showing affection or mating. Me, either. Especially when my team and I had to steal every chance we got with our mate, out in the open or not.

Heather cleared her throat and leaned back on the bench. “I’m an outsider too. Well, I was. Sick and weak. Overlooked.”

A quick glance at her knees told me everything I needed to know. Swelling. Infection, maybe. Inflammation of the joints. Rare for shifters to not heal. Not unheard of though. Some got incredibly diluted genes and never gained the ability to shift. I suspected she was one of them.

“You don’t heal?” I didn’t point out the obvious to avoid making her feel insecure.

“Slowly.” She glanced at her mate. “I couldn’t shift either, until I—”

“Mated,” Steele got in for her and her blush deepened.

“Never heard of that.” I got started on the second fish.

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