Who's that witch?
tHE TREAT
SETUP: AFTER THE BIG BREAKUP, VI VOWED TO NEVER AGAIN LAY EYES ON LINCOLN THORNE, AND AS FAR AS SHE KNOWS, SHE HADN'T. BUT HALLOWEEN HIJINX—AND A MASKED MASQUERADE PARTY—PROVIDE THE PERFECT BACKDROP FOR A MAGICALLY MYSTERIOUS MOMENT...
vIOLET
Clutching her zip-up hoodie closed, Vi skirted around the dancing horde of Norms and Supernaturals and carefully avoided direct eye contact while searching for the perfect hiding spot. She’d tried everything to get out of Athens’ annual Hallo-palooza Festival, and had almost succeeded until Rose played the I Haven’t Seen You In Forever card.
When you’ve sharded a womb for eight months, you get used to doing things together and that’s exactly what the Maxwell triplets did for the first eighteen years of their lives. The four-year span for college had been a true test in cellphone bandwidth, and now it was time for even less traveled pathways.
Adulthood.
For Rose, that meant Prima studying with Edie twenty-four seven, and for Olive, law school. Vi’s path was a bit more uncertain, even armed with an unused business degree. All she knew was that whatever path she followed, it would be one that pointed away from Athens, New York.
“I thought I banished that sweatshirt to the basement?” Rose’s disapproving voice had Vi spinning.
Damn it. The second she let her guard down…
“And I may have retrieved it before leaving Mom and Dad’s,” Vi said, clutching the hoodie tighter. “And if you try and banish my sweatshirt again, you’ll have to send me right along with it. Go on. I’m prepared.”
Rose smirked knowingly. “Nice try, sis, but you’re not getting out of tonight that easily.”
Vi groaned. That’s what she had been afraid of.
Of course, Rose didn’t have anything to fear because she seriously rocked her Sexy Sarah Sanderson costume. In varying shades of deep reds and lacey dark purples, Rose’s dress couldn’t have been any better suited for her curves than it already was, the bustier lifting The Girls to impressive heights.
Even Olive, who’d managed to sneak away yet again undetected, looked amazing as sexily sassy Winifred. But Vi? She felt like the world’s most awkward ‘Sexy’ Mary Sanderson, and that sweatshirt was her last defense from being the talk of town yet again.
“Just give me this one time,” Vi pleaded, already knowing she’d fail. “It’s a sweatshirt and it’s October. No one will think anything of it.”
“I will. And it’s not a sweatshirt. It’s a security blanket and it’s time to let it go, Vi. Seriously. You look freaking amazing in that dress.”
“You mean what little of it that’s here?” Because it was a hell of a lot less than she’d ever wear in public. Especially a public she’d grown up with, because everyone born in Athens came home for Hallo-palooza.
Mostly everyone.
Everyone except a certain broodingly gorgeous wolf shifter who was too busy playing Alpha of the North American Pack to care about an outdoor masquerade party. Or Athens in general, because after high school graduation he avoided the place at all costs.
All year round.
His absence was one of the reasons why she agreed to wear Rose’s ridiculous themed costumes out in public in the first place.
Olive appeared with a poof of Magic. “How much time until we can consider our time served? I have about a million chapters to get through before my exam tomorrow.”
“Not you, too,” Rose complained with a sigh. “Can’t we just enjoy the night and the fact that we’re all together. Finally? We’ve all been so busy. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a while.”
And cue quilt-attack.
Vi sighed, and grudgingly shrugged from her hoodie. “If anyone gets too close to me in this get-up my boobs will take them out. This bustier is no joke.”
“You look incredible,” Rose gushed.
“If you’re forcing me to go without my security blanket, I need a drink.”
Her sisters chuckled as they headed toward the apple cider punch to serve themselves extra tall drinks. One whiff and it was obvious the serial Punch-Spiker struck again. Every year, for as long as Vi remembered, someone spiked the punch. And not with any regular ‘ole alcohol. Norm liquor—even the hard stuff—didn’t do much in giving supernaturals a heady buzz.
But the Punch-Spiker’s secret ingredient?
It did the trick, lowering inhibitions, and raising the stakes.
Vi took a small sip to gage the strength, and then proceeded to down a much larger one. Both sisters shot her amused looks. “What? I need a little liquid courage if I’m talking to Mom tonight about The Thing.”
The Thing: aka, not returning to Athens like an obedient, magicless witch and instead, renting a New York City studio, getting a job at the local bar, and adopting a cantankerous Main Coon.
Her one and only card to play was that Olive wouldn’t be too far away as she attended law school, and Rose’s Prima training would take her into the city a lot. There’d be family nearby, and even if there wasn’t, she was twenty-one years old for goddess’s sake. Old enough to drink the Hallo-palooza spiked punch, have a hot and heavy affair with a stranger, and walk into a sex toy shop.
Olive and Rose stared at her with varying expressions of shocked humor.
Vi cursed. “I said that last bit out loud, didn’t I?”
“A sex toy shop?” Rose teased, lips twitching.
Olive pushed her glasses onto her nose, and chuckled. “I want to hear more about this hot and heavy affair with a stranger. Someone here?”
“It wasn’t an actual stranger. It was a metaphorical one.”
“It could be real one.” Rose scanned the party before stopping. “How about him?”
Olive and Vi glanced to where she pointed to Mr. Griffen, one of their grandfather’s old friends, and the owner of the local bakery.
Vi snorted. “May-December romances are all well and good, but not that May-December.”
Behind her mask, Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about Mr. Griffen. I’m talking about the guy talking to him.”
“If he’s talking to Mr. Griffen, chances are that he’s from here and that’s a big bowl of nope.”
Being the Magicless Maxwell, the first Firstborn unable to fulfill her duty as Prima, didn’t win her any popularity contests growing up. If Mr. G’s friend had grown up here, chances were high that he’d tormented her growing up. It was a sad reality, but it was her reality.
And it was sad, because the six-foot-some-inched man talking to Mr. Griffen would’ve definitely fit the hot affair with a stranger role well.
Dressed in an all-black tux that didn’t disguise his broad shoulders and trim waist, the stranger’s commanding presence drew eyes from everywhere and everyone. And he stood, oblivious, all his attention focused on the older man in front of him.
Vi couldn’t take her eyes off him, a fluttering sensation tickling her stomach.
She couldn’t look away, even when his gaze slid her way…and held.
That fluttering turned into a horde of caffeinated butterflies…and she thought maybe that hot affair with a stranger idea wasn’t such a bad one after all.
When you’ve sharded a womb for eight months, you get used to doing things together and that’s exactly what the Maxwell triplets did for the first eighteen years of their lives. The four-year span for college had been a true test in cellphone bandwidth, and now it was time for even less traveled pathways.
Adulthood.
For Rose, that meant Prima studying with Edie twenty-four seven, and for Olive, law school. Vi’s path was a bit more uncertain, even armed with an unused business degree. All she knew was that whatever path she followed, it would be one that pointed away from Athens, New York.
“I thought I banished that sweatshirt to the basement?” Rose’s disapproving voice had Vi spinning.
Damn it. The second she let her guard down…
“And I may have retrieved it before leaving Mom and Dad’s,” Vi said, clutching the hoodie tighter. “And if you try and banish my sweatshirt again, you’ll have to send me right along with it. Go on. I’m prepared.”
Rose smirked knowingly. “Nice try, sis, but you’re not getting out of tonight that easily.”
Vi groaned. That’s what she had been afraid of.
Of course, Rose didn’t have anything to fear because she seriously rocked her Sexy Sarah Sanderson costume. In varying shades of deep reds and lacey dark purples, Rose’s dress couldn’t have been any better suited for her curves than it already was, the bustier lifting The Girls to impressive heights.
Even Olive, who’d managed to sneak away yet again undetected, looked amazing as sexily sassy Winifred. But Vi? She felt like the world’s most awkward ‘Sexy’ Mary Sanderson, and that sweatshirt was her last defense from being the talk of town yet again.
“Just give me this one time,” Vi pleaded, already knowing she’d fail. “It’s a sweatshirt and it’s October. No one will think anything of it.”
“I will. And it’s not a sweatshirt. It’s a security blanket and it’s time to let it go, Vi. Seriously. You look freaking amazing in that dress.”
“You mean what little of it that’s here?” Because it was a hell of a lot less than she’d ever wear in public. Especially a public she’d grown up with, because everyone born in Athens came home for Hallo-palooza.
Mostly everyone.
Everyone except a certain broodingly gorgeous wolf shifter who was too busy playing Alpha of the North American Pack to care about an outdoor masquerade party. Or Athens in general, because after high school graduation he avoided the place at all costs.
All year round.
His absence was one of the reasons why she agreed to wear Rose’s ridiculous themed costumes out in public in the first place.
Olive appeared with a poof of Magic. “How much time until we can consider our time served? I have about a million chapters to get through before my exam tomorrow.”
“Not you, too,” Rose complained with a sigh. “Can’t we just enjoy the night and the fact that we’re all together. Finally? We’ve all been so busy. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a while.”
And cue quilt-attack.
Vi sighed, and grudgingly shrugged from her hoodie. “If anyone gets too close to me in this get-up my boobs will take them out. This bustier is no joke.”
“You look incredible,” Rose gushed.
“If you’re forcing me to go without my security blanket, I need a drink.”
Her sisters chuckled as they headed toward the apple cider punch to serve themselves extra tall drinks. One whiff and it was obvious the serial Punch-Spiker struck again. Every year, for as long as Vi remembered, someone spiked the punch. And not with any regular ‘ole alcohol. Norm liquor—even the hard stuff—didn’t do much in giving supernaturals a heady buzz.
But the Punch-Spiker’s secret ingredient?
It did the trick, lowering inhibitions, and raising the stakes.
Vi took a small sip to gage the strength, and then proceeded to down a much larger one. Both sisters shot her amused looks. “What? I need a little liquid courage if I’m talking to Mom tonight about The Thing.”
The Thing: aka, not returning to Athens like an obedient, magicless witch and instead, renting a New York City studio, getting a job at the local bar, and adopting a cantankerous Main Coon.
Her one and only card to play was that Olive wouldn’t be too far away as she attended law school, and Rose’s Prima training would take her into the city a lot. There’d be family nearby, and even if there wasn’t, she was twenty-one years old for goddess’s sake. Old enough to drink the Hallo-palooza spiked punch, have a hot and heavy affair with a stranger, and walk into a sex toy shop.
Olive and Rose stared at her with varying expressions of shocked humor.
Vi cursed. “I said that last bit out loud, didn’t I?”
“A sex toy shop?” Rose teased, lips twitching.
Olive pushed her glasses onto her nose, and chuckled. “I want to hear more about this hot and heavy affair with a stranger. Someone here?”
“It wasn’t an actual stranger. It was a metaphorical one.”
“It could be real one.” Rose scanned the party before stopping. “How about him?”
Olive and Vi glanced to where she pointed to Mr. Griffen, one of their grandfather’s old friends, and the owner of the local bakery.
Vi snorted. “May-December romances are all well and good, but not that May-December.”
Behind her mask, Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about Mr. Griffen. I’m talking about the guy talking to him.”
“If he’s talking to Mr. Griffen, chances are that he’s from here and that’s a big bowl of nope.”
Being the Magicless Maxwell, the first Firstborn unable to fulfill her duty as Prima, didn’t win her any popularity contests growing up. If Mr. G’s friend had grown up here, chances were high that he’d tormented her growing up. It was a sad reality, but it was her reality.
And it was sad, because the six-foot-some-inched man talking to Mr. Griffen would’ve definitely fit the hot affair with a stranger role well.
Dressed in an all-black tux that didn’t disguise his broad shoulders and trim waist, the stranger’s commanding presence drew eyes from everywhere and everyone. And he stood, oblivious, all his attention focused on the older man in front of him.
Vi couldn’t take her eyes off him, a fluttering sensation tickling her stomach.
She couldn’t look away, even when his gaze slid her way…and held.
That fluttering turned into a horde of caffeinated butterflies…and she thought maybe that hot affair with a stranger idea wasn’t such a bad one after all.
LINCOLN
He couldn’t look away.
He’d done a damn good job of ignoring the curious stares throughout the night, but his inner Wolf finally won. During a slight lull in his conversation with Mr. Griffen, Linc glanced to his left, his gaze colliding with a gorgeous pair of eyes and their stunning owner.
Even with a dance floor and dozens of couples between them, he felt her gaze on a deep, visceral level. It was both unnerving and intriguing…and a sensation he hadn’t felt in a damn long time. Not since a certain pretty witch who had the mouth of a Navy Seal.
But no way would Violet Maxwell be caught dead at Hallo-palooza.
Doug Merlot and his husband danced their way into his line of sight, and when they moved out of it, the sexy as sin Sanderson sister was no where to be found. The smart thing to do would be to go on with his night, talk to a few Pack members, and then head back to the city. As the Alpha of the North American Pack, there was always some crisis that needed averting.
And yet he found himself parting ways with Mr. Griffen to go on the hunt for a gorgeous witch. Guided by both his human and Wolf senses, as he tracked her route through the festival, telling himself it wasn’t stalkerish.
As soon as he got close, he found himself back to square one.
“You look like you’ve lost someone…” The low, sexy voice had Linc spinning around.
And there she stood…his sexy Mary Sanderson.
A coy smirk played on her pink lips as she leaned against the pretzel stand. Even with the purple and gold mask hiding half her face, he could sense her amusement.
“And it appears I just found her.” He couldn’t help but return her grin with one of his own. “You’re a pretty elusive woman.”
“It’s habitual. It makes it easier to avoid people that I don’t want to run into.”
“And does that include me?” he teased flirtatiously.
“I don’t know you, so it’s hard to know if I should be avoiding you.”
He chuckled. “Very good point. But let me assure you, you shouldn’t. Why don’t I grab us some apple cider punch and we can remedy not knowing each other?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why ruin a good thing?”
“Not knowing me is a good thing?”
“Or you not knowing me. Either way you want to look at it.”
He sensed her belief in her words, and that bothered him a whole hell of a lot. Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to know this woman. His Wolf sat up and practically whined with the need to know her, too.
“Okay…so no names.” Linc’s gaze strayed past her to the Ferris wheel. “What do you say to high-rise rides?”
Her gaze followed his and she tapped a long fingers against her pink-tinted lips. “I could go for a spin.”
Muting his inner Wolf, who practically preened at her acceptance, Linc let her lead the way to the ride, where the attendant guided them into the next open car. The small red bucket put them side-by-side, every shift of her arm against his sending a zing of awareness to Linc, Jr.
As they rose higher into the sky, he scanned the horizon and over the star-filled sky as he searched for something—anything—to say. Talking to women had never been a problem for him and yet his tongue may as well have been tied into a knot.
“So…come here often?” Mary’s sexy voice dropped into a teasing purr.
He laughed, and shortly after, so did she, the sound almost musical to his ears. “What about you?”
She wrinkled her nose.
He chuckled at her noncommittal answer. “Okay, so no names and no talk about home-bases. Got it. So what do we talk about?”
“Why don’t you tell me what—or who—you’re supposed to be?” She eyed his tux. “Not that you don’t look great, but…”
“That’s because I’m not wearing all of it. Hold on…” He searched his pockets before pulling out a pair of black tinted sunglasses. He tucked them on his nose over his masquerade mask and flashed a small smirk, shaking his hair to it hung around his jaw.
Mary threw back her head and laughed. “Neo? From the Matrix?”
“Bingo. You know your movies.”
“Actually, I know my Keanu Reaves.”
“And unless I’m mistaken—and that doesn’t usually happen—you’re a Sanderson sister. And can I say, a very sexy one. I always did have a soft spot for Mary.”
She snortled. “Sure.”
The wheel rotated again before slowing down, and way before Linc was ready, the attendant was unlatching their car. Linc reached out a hand to help Mary down, and on contact, that zing of awareness zapped through it.
Behind her mask, her eyes widened.
She’d felt it, too, and while it peaked Linc’s interest, it seemed to do the opposite to her. Her gaze shifted left and right, making her look like a dear in headlights and ready to bolt.
He opened his mouth to suggest that they go somewhere more private when he scented the arrival of his best friend and Second-In-Command. The jig was up, and it before long, it would be back to work. Back to being the Alpha.
“Why don’t we…” He glanced at the now empty spot where his Mary had stood.
“Damn it.” His gaze flew around the area, praying for a glimpse of gold and purple…and nothing.
Not a damn thing.
“Alright, man,” Adrian stepped up, a mug of spiked punch in his hands. “Playtime’s over. We made our pitstop and now it’s time to get back on the road. What are you looking for?”
“Not what…who?”
“Okay, so who are you looking for?” Adrian, his SIC, asked.
“Pretty sure it was the woman of my dreams…”
Adrian snorted, glancing down at his empty hands. “Alright, dude. How much of this spiked shit have you drank while I left you alone?”
“Not a damn ounce.”
His friend looked at him with disbelief, and hell, he didn’t even believe himself. Despite knowing the fuzziness in his head wasn’t due to the spiked cider, Linc couldn’t think of another reason why the world spun around him.
And why a sexy, sinful Sanderson sister was right in the middle of the axis.
He’d done a damn good job of ignoring the curious stares throughout the night, but his inner Wolf finally won. During a slight lull in his conversation with Mr. Griffen, Linc glanced to his left, his gaze colliding with a gorgeous pair of eyes and their stunning owner.
Even with a dance floor and dozens of couples between them, he felt her gaze on a deep, visceral level. It was both unnerving and intriguing…and a sensation he hadn’t felt in a damn long time. Not since a certain pretty witch who had the mouth of a Navy Seal.
But no way would Violet Maxwell be caught dead at Hallo-palooza.
Doug Merlot and his husband danced their way into his line of sight, and when they moved out of it, the sexy as sin Sanderson sister was no where to be found. The smart thing to do would be to go on with his night, talk to a few Pack members, and then head back to the city. As the Alpha of the North American Pack, there was always some crisis that needed averting.
And yet he found himself parting ways with Mr. Griffen to go on the hunt for a gorgeous witch. Guided by both his human and Wolf senses, as he tracked her route through the festival, telling himself it wasn’t stalkerish.
As soon as he got close, he found himself back to square one.
“You look like you’ve lost someone…” The low, sexy voice had Linc spinning around.
And there she stood…his sexy Mary Sanderson.
A coy smirk played on her pink lips as she leaned against the pretzel stand. Even with the purple and gold mask hiding half her face, he could sense her amusement.
“And it appears I just found her.” He couldn’t help but return her grin with one of his own. “You’re a pretty elusive woman.”
“It’s habitual. It makes it easier to avoid people that I don’t want to run into.”
“And does that include me?” he teased flirtatiously.
“I don’t know you, so it’s hard to know if I should be avoiding you.”
He chuckled. “Very good point. But let me assure you, you shouldn’t. Why don’t I grab us some apple cider punch and we can remedy not knowing each other?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why ruin a good thing?”
“Not knowing me is a good thing?”
“Or you not knowing me. Either way you want to look at it.”
He sensed her belief in her words, and that bothered him a whole hell of a lot. Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to know this woman. His Wolf sat up and practically whined with the need to know her, too.
“Okay…so no names.” Linc’s gaze strayed past her to the Ferris wheel. “What do you say to high-rise rides?”
Her gaze followed his and she tapped a long fingers against her pink-tinted lips. “I could go for a spin.”
Muting his inner Wolf, who practically preened at her acceptance, Linc let her lead the way to the ride, where the attendant guided them into the next open car. The small red bucket put them side-by-side, every shift of her arm against his sending a zing of awareness to Linc, Jr.
As they rose higher into the sky, he scanned the horizon and over the star-filled sky as he searched for something—anything—to say. Talking to women had never been a problem for him and yet his tongue may as well have been tied into a knot.
“So…come here often?” Mary’s sexy voice dropped into a teasing purr.
He laughed, and shortly after, so did she, the sound almost musical to his ears. “What about you?”
She wrinkled her nose.
He chuckled at her noncommittal answer. “Okay, so no names and no talk about home-bases. Got it. So what do we talk about?”
“Why don’t you tell me what—or who—you’re supposed to be?” She eyed his tux. “Not that you don’t look great, but…”
“That’s because I’m not wearing all of it. Hold on…” He searched his pockets before pulling out a pair of black tinted sunglasses. He tucked them on his nose over his masquerade mask and flashed a small smirk, shaking his hair to it hung around his jaw.
Mary threw back her head and laughed. “Neo? From the Matrix?”
“Bingo. You know your movies.”
“Actually, I know my Keanu Reaves.”
“And unless I’m mistaken—and that doesn’t usually happen—you’re a Sanderson sister. And can I say, a very sexy one. I always did have a soft spot for Mary.”
She snortled. “Sure.”
The wheel rotated again before slowing down, and way before Linc was ready, the attendant was unlatching their car. Linc reached out a hand to help Mary down, and on contact, that zing of awareness zapped through it.
Behind her mask, her eyes widened.
She’d felt it, too, and while it peaked Linc’s interest, it seemed to do the opposite to her. Her gaze shifted left and right, making her look like a dear in headlights and ready to bolt.
He opened his mouth to suggest that they go somewhere more private when he scented the arrival of his best friend and Second-In-Command. The jig was up, and it before long, it would be back to work. Back to being the Alpha.
“Why don’t we…” He glanced at the now empty spot where his Mary had stood.
“Damn it.” His gaze flew around the area, praying for a glimpse of gold and purple…and nothing.
Not a damn thing.
“Alright, man,” Adrian stepped up, a mug of spiked punch in his hands. “Playtime’s over. We made our pitstop and now it’s time to get back on the road. What are you looking for?”
“Not what…who?”
“Okay, so who are you looking for?” Adrian, his SIC, asked.
“Pretty sure it was the woman of my dreams…”
Adrian snorted, glancing down at his empty hands. “Alright, dude. How much of this spiked shit have you drank while I left you alone?”
“Not a damn ounce.”
His friend looked at him with disbelief, and hell, he didn’t even believe himself. Despite knowing the fuzziness in his head wasn’t due to the spiked cider, Linc couldn’t think of another reason why the world spun around him.
And why a sexy, sinful Sanderson sister was right in the middle of the axis.