Witches Get Stitches (Stay a Spell, #3)

by Juliette Cross

I tasted in the air, ready to erupt if necessary. I was aware she was a strong telekinetic on top of her clairvoyance, and I was pretty damn sure she was preparing to use her magic on me. Agains...

The image of Ty flashed through my mind. His wide eyes, his fear, the bloody wound opening up his throat and shoulder.

was truly lost. This was so bad. We weren’t even dating, but my emotions were a roaring avalanche of mine, mine, mine.

Almost immediately, I felt the raging heat retreating. She had no idea how close I’d been to losing myself entirely. Nor did she know how quickly she’d calmed the beast.

That was another thing about Violet. While her words were often crass and hard and profane, the timbre of her voice resonated with a raspy, musical quality that penetrated through centuries-old beastly DNA. If there was such a thing as a werewolf whisperer, she was it. Or maybe it was just me who responded to her in this way. The idea of other werewolves finding pleasure in the sound of her crooning voice lit another flame of fury in my gut.

If I could open my eyes, grab hold of her waist, and pull her into me, hug her slender frame to mine, that would be the greatest feeling in the wide, wide world. The sweetest balm to my overheated brain and body.

I’d never seen her look worried about anything. Pissed off, yes. Frustrated, yes. Furious, lots of times. But anxious about someone? Never.

“I need to figure out that werewolf spell quick, don’t I?” This softer side of Violet had me weakening further for her, wanting to cradle her close.

“Thought I was going to get to see what the real-life American Werewolf in London looked like.”

Of the two of us, Mateo has always been the cool and controlled one. I should say had always been. Until this witch put a curse on him that had changed him permanently. Sort of.

“Settle down, man.” “Where’d they go?” His eyes were full-on carnivorous gold, his voice barrel-deep. “Christ. Is this what I looked like a few minutes ago?” “Worse,” said Violet, peeking around my shoulder. “They’re not here,” I assured him, which eased his intensity by a single small notch.

“Blood Moon?” Sean snorted. “Seriously? Can we be any more cliché?”

Evie hopped up to sit on the counter, completely unfazed by her boyfriend’s frenzied behavior. “Alpha, they’re not here, so cool your jets.” Interesting that she knew when to address his wolf.

She sighed, looking a little despondent. “Apparently, Livvy posted something of an ad on the SuperNet about it.” “Already?” I snapped. “It wasn’t her fault really. I remember us talking about it, but I’d thought I made it clear I was still experimenting. I didn’t want to promote it yet.

“They’re dangerous,” I added. She huffed out a laugh. “I can handle them.” Then I dropped my voice low, taking a step closer to her. “But I don’t want you to.”

“What are they doing?” Poor Violet was so confused. There was a lot she didn’t yet understand about werewolves.

It wasn’t strange at all if she understood our true nature. When a pack of werewolves came wandering into our territory, we wanted one thing. To enforce our dominance over what was ours. Short of pissing a circle around Evie, he was doing the next best thing.

Evie’s ponytail was askew, her lips swollen, and there was a reddish bite mark on her neck. She looked sex-rumpled and sated.

I was so damn jealous my head was about to pop off. Not that Mateo had fucked Evie and marked his woman in the closet, but because I wanted to do the same to Violet.

Was it because that little display triggered her arousal in general? Or was it because she was imagining us doing the same thing? Like I was. Sooner rather than later, I was going to find out.

Ironically, Jules was the oldest of my sisters and the most powerful, but also the smallest in stature. Her short, bobbed hair, a deep shade of auburn, perfectly haloed her heart-shaped face.

“If I had any idea it could’ve endangered you, I wouldn’t have posted it on the SuperNet.” “I think you’re all blowing it out of proportion.” I ignored the huffing sound Nico made. “Yes, they were werewolves, and sorry to offend, Nico, but sometimes werewolves can behave aggressively. But that doesn’t mean they intended to harm.”

“We don’t always intend it.” Nico’s gaze burned into me. “But it happens anyway.”

“The thing is, these tattoos aren’t like spells witches can do that can be for anything they want. The way this magic works is that it targets the magic-bearer and what he or she needs the most. That’s why I didn’t want to advertise yet. I want to be able to clearly define what this is before I start telling everyone.”

“Like for Devraj, the tattoo I gave him works to quell his craving for blood. Because it’s the one thing that works against his magic of vampirism. He’s not like most vampires who enjoy that craving.”

Jules shot Ruben a look, who merely lifted an eyebrow at her. I’d often wondered if she’d ever let him feed on her when they were together way back when. She looked back to me, her steel-gray eyes cool.

“The curse put on the first werewolf by a witch,” I added with a hint of bitterness. “So it only makes sense that a witch be the one to finally help them.” “You can’t make a werewolf no longer a werewolf,” said Jules. “That ancient curse will never be broken.”

“I’m just saying that they suffer unnecessarily. And it’s because of a witch that they do suffer. One of our kind. And this whole no werewolves thing has ostracized them to the point that no witch has ever helped them. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

Ever since that first witch used dark magic to curse the first werewolf and every one of his male descendants, there had been a longstanding prejudice against them. Even in our enlightened age, it was still quite prevalent.

“Violet,” Jules said softly, “it’s not that we don’t agree with you, but this prejudice has been going on for centuries. It’s not like we can wave a wand and make it go away. Even if you’re able to help Nico and others.”

“I understand that. But just because something has been wrong since the dawn of existence doesn’t make it fucking okay.”

“Violet’s right. This prejudice against werewolves only hurts the whole supernatural community. Not just werewolves. And Violet has the power to change all of that.”

I nodded to my sister then locked on Nico’s gaze, which burned with intense adoration. My heart tripped faster.

Jules spoke with perfect calmness as always, as if I hadn’t just called our entire kind a bunch of self-righteous bigots moments before.

“Your spells have always been innate. A few words, a little flirting with the new moon, and the right divination charm just falls into your brain.”

A vision of the slivered new moon popped into my mind, hanging above us at a witch’s round in our back courtyard. Then a flash of Nico’s face, his eyes electric green, his canines extended from his half-open mouth, a vicious expression reflecting the pain of his wolf transformation.

“The ink for werewolves needs to be spelled on the new moon.” I stood suddenly. “I need to go and check something.”

As the overlord of vampires in this region, his only immediate supervisor was Jules, so he reported to her.

The book was a treasure trove of witch sign. Witch sign were markings we used in casting circles and spells, to channel our magic to do what we wanted it to do.

Because no one seemed to have ever given it a shot. I supposed it all went back to the fact that the one who actually cursed and created the first werewolf was a witch hunted by the hunter she cursed. And since every generation of witches had kept werewolves on the outer perimeter of the supernatural circle, werewolves had never had access to the kind of magic they needed. Witch magic.

Not until me anyway. Because I was going to fix this. I didn’t give a shit if every witch and warlock snubbed their noses at me for doing it. They could all suck a bag of dicks. It was ridiculous that in the 21st century, they were still clinging to old prejudices that not only spread hatred, but also danger and violence. The only way to heal old wounds was through mercy and kindness. And one thimble full of fucking compassion.

He blinked, a flare of tenderness sweeping from him. “For saying something no witch ever has.” He glanced down at the book in my hands. “For trying to help us.”

“No. I mean, why are you putting pink nail polish on a rooster? “He likes being fancy.”

“How did you come to domesticate a rooster?” She laughed. “He’s not really tame.” We both watched him strutting through the grass. “Well, he apparently enjoys pedicures and bowties. I’d say that’s pretty civilized.”

“About how I got him. Jules had this call from a witch friend of hers. Her friend told her there was definitely some black magic being practiced in the house next door. So Jules, Livvy, and I went to check it out. We found evidence of animal sacrifice and some witch sign of blood spells. Dark magic.”

“No way. Jules nulled her the second we walked through the door. The aura of black magic was heavy, and since it’s a crime to practice, Jules didn’t wait to ask questions. When we checked out the house, I found Fred in this cage on the back patio. He was so scrawny, but he was pissed off and still haughty as ever.” She huffed another laugh. “Reminded me of an old aristocrat in one of those historical romance movies that Clara watches all the time. The ones that bluster about all snobbishly. His feathers on his head waggled furiously as he clucked at us. Anyway…” She sighed. “I took him home and fell in love with him.”

I asked, “He’s old, isn’t he?” “Yeah. Like way older than any rooster should be. Isadora’s magic keeps him going, though.”

“Look. I’m well aware that it’s a sad admission that my longest-standing relationship has been with an ornery rooster.”

If she would ever give me the green light to cross the friendzone, she’d have to beat me off her.

It was hard enough to not get a raging erection whenever we were close like this, when I could smell the faint scent of body wash—lavender and lemon—and could feel the warmth of her body and hear the beat of her pulse.