Bewitchingly Hers (Witches of Pleasant Grove, #3)

by Jennifer Chipman

I’d always loved fall here—the nip in the air, the leaves crunching under foot—but our sunsets were something else entirely in New England. It made me wish I could curl up on my porch swing with a blanket and a cup of hot apple cider as I watched the explosion of color in the sky.

Plus, I had my familiar, my little hedgehog Nutmeg, to keep me company.

“Soulmates aren’t that common,” I tried to remind myself. “Just because Willow and Luna somehow found theirs, doesn’t mean⁠—”

I’d never loved being alone at night—probably why my house had a deadbolt and spells cast on it. It was also the reason I refused to watch horror movies.

I hadn’t even known they were real until the Clarke sisters both fell in love with a pair of demon brothers last year. I’d always thought they were a legend, like werewolves and vampires. Things that our elders spun tales about to scare us into obedience, not because they actually existed in the real world.

My mate’s hand was pressed against my face, and I was keenly aware that nothing had ever felt as right as her touch. How was that possible? I’d always heard of what it felt like, but never imagined…

And she was a witch. However that was possible, I didn’t understand. Wolves always mated wolves. But I could see the gold, faint thread between us, could feel her at the other end of the bond. And she smelled like… she smelled like mine.

The room smelled like her. Like apples with a hint of cinnamon and something sweet.

While I wasn’t a bad barista in any sense of the word, nothing compared to Willow’s coffee. Mostly because of her affinity with making potions, and what was a cup of coffee but a brew of caffeine? They were like magic, pepping you right up.

Thirteen was a lucky number for witches. It was one we associated with powerful energies, which made it the ideal number of members in a coven.

And yeah—I couldn’t deny that I wanted something like that for myself. A doting husband, someone who loved me and fretted over me.

I didn’t smell any other males here, which satisfied me more than it should have.

An alpha wolf who found their mate was prone to jealousy and was known be quite possessive. We didn’t share. When a wolf bonded with their mate, it was for life.

I’d never slept so peacefully. Warm and surrounded by the coziest smell of all time—like spice and leaves—I was more content than I’d ever been.

Well, what she didn’t know is that I would fight for her. No matter what it took, I wasn’t giving up—not yet.

“I’m not a werewolf, though. Just a shifter.”

“Werewolves aren’t wolf or human. They’re something other. Forced to change during each full moon, feral and rabid. Shifters were… blessed, if the stories are true, by a coven of witches many millennia ago. In exchange for use of our lands for their ceremonies, they gave us the ability to shape-shift into our wolves at will. No full moon needed.”

We’re all being persecuted by humans. Isn’t it better to have strength in numbers? To have a town like this be a safe haven for all?”

“Wow. I didn’t peg you for a car guy.” I chuckled. “To be fair, a few hours ago, you didn’t even peg me for a guy.”

The man was a mystery, and I wanted to unravel him.

I told you, my wolf is attached. He’s a little possessive.

But then she smiled at him. And my wolf was ready to fight to the death. Like he’d throw down over some invisible gauntlet, over the small witch who had the other half of my soul.

Shutting my senses down, I focused on inhaling the clean, fresh air. It wasn’t quite the same as home—there, the air smelled of mountains, like pine and spruce trees. Here, it smelled earthier, with more oak trees, elm trees and beech trees dotting the skyline.

I opened the door in time to watch as the huge, dark red wolf bounded through the air—and then it’s form shifted, turning back into man. The transformation was surprisingly graceful in a way I would have never expected.

“Enjoying the view, little healer?” He smirked, flexing his muscles.

Pacing back and forth, he raked his fingers through his hair, messing up the dark red strands. “I’m a huntsman.” I was pretty sure I’d heard him wrong. “A what?” “A monster hunter.”

He reached his hand over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my jaw. “It feels like I’ve known you forever,” he said, voice a low murmur. It made my heart flutter, bats practically erupting in my chest.

Main Street was illuminated by string lights and flickering pumpkins, because the moment September came to Pleasant Grove, Halloween was in full swing here. We loved it.

The only thing that might have had Halloween beat was when winter hit our little town. When a coating of snow settled across the rooftops and the horseless sleighs pulled by magic could be found traveling down Main Street. Christmas in Pleasant Grove was something else entirely.

No part of my body lacked definition—thanks to the amount of time I spent as a wolf—but I didn’t know what my mate would think. I wanted to be enough for her. Wanted this to be enough for her.

There was something extra special about holding her like this, something that soothed every jagged edge of mine when I had my mate in my arms.

I took her hand in mine. “But when I’m all in with someone, I’m all in. And believe me when I say, I’m all in, Eryne.”

Before meeting him, I used to laugh when girls called their boyfriends golden retriever types. Now, I was pretty sure I understood. Though Barrett was all wolf.

Home. What would that even look like now? Was home a place, or was it just a person? And if it was, then home was wherever she was. Home was Eryne.

“I still would have chosen you,” she said, voice soft. “You’re every dream I’ve ever had, Barrett Lockwood.”

He laughed. “I’ll be your good boy whenever you want, sugar.” Barrett winked at me, and I blushed harder.

You’re my future. My destiny. You’re the very thing I’ve been living my whole life for. Something I was working towards even without knowing it. Every step, every choice I made, led me to you.”

Of all the beings in the universe, she was mine, and I would never squander that opportunity. Would never stop being grateful that she was mine.

I felt like my heart was living outside of my body now, watching my husband—my mate—snoring softly with our newborn. My boys.