No way.
Continue the series today!
There you have it! This short story leads you right to the moment at the end of the first book, when Shea arrives at Colt’s Bumptown after Cilla tossed him out of Evangeline’s window. In Season of the Witch, coming out on Valentine’s Day, we’ll pick up four months later—and see how the two of them find their way together after this rocky start!
And, since you’re still here, why not click to the next page for a sneak peek?
Seas
on of the Witch
Sneak peek at the second book
She didn’t greet him. It was obvious that he wasn’t welcome in her territory. Too bad that Colt was a born alpha shifter who spent his entire life as part of a pack. Gauging dominance, establishing hierarchy, following strength… it came as easily to him as healing came to this witch.
Plus, his wolf was more powerful than her witchcraft. They both knew it. So while Shea wanted him gone, she didn’t try to kick him out.
Instead, she kept on staring until Colt felt his hackles—among other parts of his out-of-control body—start to rise.
“What?” he said gruffly.
“Passion flower.”
What?
Colt blinked. “What did you just call me?”
“Or rhodiola,” the witch mused. “I think either one of those would be good for you. Wait. Can you take herbs?”
“Me?”
“I guess. Well, para wolves. Most of my customers are human, some witches, too, but I’m not sure about you shifters. Do you think it would help?”
She was trying to sell him some of her worthless natural medicines?
“You’re kidding, right?” Colt snorted. “Come on. Humans? Sure. I can see them falling for that vitamin/herbal remedy bullshit racket. They don’t know that it’s just fancy grass in a capsule. And witches… well, I don’t know why witches do anything they do, but I don’t think they’ll do shit for me.” He jerked his chin over at her. “Okay. I’ll bite. What do you think they’ll do for me anyway?”
She uncrossed her arms, placed a hand on each hip. “I thought they might help with your anger management and your stress issues.” Then, under her breath, she added, “Too bad it won’t do anything for your dickish personality. If there was a supplement for that, I’d make a killing.”
Any good feeling he had just being in her presence disappeared in a heartbeat.
“Oh? I’m a dick because I don’t think the grass you sell here works miracles?”
“No,” she said honestly. “You’re a dick because you’re judgmental and you think anything to do with my kind of Para is a waste of time.”
Colt growled deep in his throat, one part pissed, the other part embarrassed that his… well, his almost-mate had pegged him so perfectly.
“Am I wrong?” she dared him when he didn’t argue back.
As her witch’s eyes seemed to darken, the vivid purple turning plum-colored, Colt felt the hairs on his arm start to stand on end. The air crackled with barely repressed magic—and that wasn’t all. Breathing deep, he caught a whiff of something dark, something syrupy.
Great. He’d offended her to that point that he managed to cause a crack in Shea’s shields. A sliver of her masked scent tickled his senses, enough to make his cock harden even further. Even tainted with her annoyance and her frustration, Colt felt drawn to her… which was exactly why he had to fall back, putting more space between them.
The apology was halfway to his lips before he swallowed it. She’d only look hurt, assuming he didn’t mean it—or, worse, that the instincts that insisted that she was his mate were compelling him to pretend he was sorry.
What could he say?
What could he do?