Page 35 of The Witch's Shifter
“Are you hungry?” Aurora asks. “I was just making some breakfast. Come on.” She waves for me to follow her, and I do just that.
When I step into the kitchen, I expect to find the red-haired one seated at the table, but it’s empty. I cast my gaze through the window, but he’s not out in the garden either. All I see are a few chickens pecking the ground and leaves falling gently from the aspen trees.
“Where’s the knight?” I ask.
“He’s not here. After all this time, he really needed to get back to the guardhouse. He’s stationed in Faunwood, if I didn’t already explain. Go on, sit down. Do you like apple-cinnamon bread?”
He’s not here? He left mealonewith the woman carrying his child?
Either he’s a fool, or we’ve turned a new leaf, even if I still don’t like him all that much. Hedidcome after me though, and that’s worth something, even in my book.
“I like everything,” I say, then sink into a chair with a sigh.
“A man after my own heart.” Aurora giggles to herself as she puts a few slices of bread onto a platter, and as I watch her, I’m overcome with the need to be closer to her, to nuzzle my face into the side of her neck and run my fingers through her hair. But maybe that’s just the mate bond talking. There’s a lot to this that evenIstillhave to figure out.
Growing up in the pack, we’re all well aware of mate bonds and how suddenly they form, but having never felt one for myself, I feel a bit like I’m running blind through the forest, without even my sense of smell to guide me.
My gaze roams over the smooth column of Aurora’s throat, as of yet unmarked. If she truly decides to accept me, to bond with me, that neck will soon bare my mark. The very thought ofit, of sinking my fangs into her throat, has me hardening in my trousers. I shift to hide my legs beneath the table just as Aurora sets a steaming platter of bread, butter, and fresh blackberries before me.
My eyes widen. The scent of apples and cinnamon curls up my nose, so potent it makes my mouth water. “Do you cook like this all the time?”
“Usually.” She places a hand on her belly while sinking into the chair across from me. “I enjoy it. There’s not much that brings me more happiness than watching people I care about enjoy my cooking.” Her smile is so soft and warm that it takes my words away.
Does she consider me one of those people? Someone she cares about?
I scarf the food down before Aurora’s tea has even had time to cool. After popping the blackberries into my mouth, I lick my fingers clean of their juice. Aurora giggles again, such a light and airy sound, and shakes her head at me.
Sitting back in my chair with a contented sigh, I tip my head at her. “So, what are we doing today?”
Aurora blinks at me. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been nothing but a burden since you found me in the woods. And I’d like to change that. So tell me, what can I help you with?”
The surprise in her expression slowly shifts to excitement. It makes her green eyes twinkle. “I know just the thing.”
AND THAT’S HOW I END up out in the garden, on my knees in the dirt, helping Aurora harvest her crops. I don’t havemuch experience with gardening—back home, in the pack, my primary role was hunting. The gardening is mostly left to the older members, those whose bodies are no longer fast or strong enough to support us on hunts. It feels a bit silly now, realizing I’ve never pulled something so simple as a carrot or a beet from the earth.
My hand wraps around a bunch of fluffy-topped carrot stems, and as I pull them from the soft brown soil, revealing vibrant orange tubers, a feeling of satisfaction washes over me. I’ve had no part in growing or caring for these crops, yet I still feel a rush of excitement each time I unearth something new from the soil. It’s almost as satisfying as being the one to make the kill on a hunt.
“How do you know how to grow all this?” I ask Aurora. She’s working on harvesting a nearby garden bed—potatoes, from the looks of it—and pauses to look over at me.
“I’ve been working in the garden for as long as I can remember.” A wistful look comes over her face as she sits back on her knees and rests a hand on the bump beneath her brown cotton dress. “This was my auntie’s cottage. She built this garden.” Her gaze sweeps around the area surrounding us. “Whenever I visited her, we’d be out here together for hours, sowing and weeding and harvesting. Not to mention I’m an earth witch”—she reaches up to touch a strand of forest-green hair—“so it comes naturally to me.”
I never even asked why her hair is that color; I suppose I assumed it had something to do with her being a witch, even if I didn’t know the details—I know very little about witches to begin with. Seems we have a lot to learn about each other.
I reach for another bunch of carrots. They slide free of the soil with little resistance, and I brush the clumps of dirt away before settling them into the basket on the ground beside me.
“What about you?” Aurora asks.
I look over at her. “What about me?”
She leans forward again, hands diving into the soil to dig up potatoes like they’re buried treasure. “What do you like to do? Do you have hobbies?”
Hobbies? I have to think on it for a moment. In the pack, we spend about as much time in our wolf forms as we do in our human forms, and with that comes a feeling of instinct, of being rather than thinking, of feeling everything without needing words or to process the complex emotions humans have. It’s a raw, natural way to experience being alive.
In my human form, my brain is always busy, always spinning and contemplating and wondering. But when I’m a wolf, all of that falls slowly away, leaving me completely in tune with nature and its never-ending cycles.
All that to say I’ve never really developed any hobbies, at least not in the way Aurora seems to expect.
