Page 1 of Witchy Woman

Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time

There’s one thing in my life that I am absolutely clear on.

I do not want a soulmate.

It doesn’t matter that my family is ‘blessed’ by some long-dead witchy ancestor, so I have one by default. It doesn’t matter that I’ve already met him.

I have free will, and I don’t want a soulmate.

I’m quite happy not dealing with any of the excessive drama that seems to follow the entire concept of soulmates around like a cloud.

It’s only been a month since Noah got kidnapped and it practically destroyed Hazel. And that’s without even mentioning the death of my father, who was literally killed by a warlock because he was my mother’s soulmate.

Soulmates are more trouble than they’re worth.

Grandma never met her soulmate and she’s just fine. And I’ll live without mine and be just fine.

Despite the fact I think about him constantly.

Especially when I’m here at the witches’ market where I first met him, when I delivered a package from my grandmother to his booth. My boots crunch on the semi-frozen ground. Winter is fast approaching in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, and I’m expectingour first snowfall any day now. Regardless of the cold—and any daydreams about a soulmate I don’t want—I’m not wasting the opportunity to come to the magic market.

On any given day there’s between twenty-five and one hundred booths selling anything I could imagine. Fashion, accessories, spellbooks, food, herbs, talismans, art. The possibilities are endless. The smells should clash with each other, but somehow they form a cohesive scent that has a warm, wintery, spicy undertone. It’s comforting.

The market is a little threadbare as we go into winter. Makes sense, really, but it’s a shame to see it less busy. It’s easier to get lost when there’s a crowd to get lost in.

“There’s my Goldilocks,” a rough, gravelly voice says in my ear.

And there’s the reason I would like to be lost in a crowd.

Ash Cedar.

The scent of warm fires, evergreen trees, and musk hits me as he leans in so close I can feel his breath tickle my ear. My soulmate.

Not that he knows that. Or ever will, if I have any fucking say in it.

“Can I help you?” I ask, resisting turning to face him.

“I haven’t been told I’m an overgrown brute today,” he chuckles. The warmth of his body is overwhelming, making me want to lean in and soak it up like a cat in the sun. “I missed it.”

“Surprising considering how insufferable you are.”

“There it is.” He circles me, coming to a stop in front of me.

He’s a gigantic bear of a man—lumberjack-core to the extreme—so it almost hurts my neck to look up at him. But I want to make eye contact. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Even if it’s difficult not to notice how his black Henley strains against the muscles of his arms and chest.

I cross my arms, matching his emerald-green stare with one of my own. “Is there anything else I can help you with or did you just need to satisfy your degradation kink?”

His face lights up, a broad smile erupting underneath his short beard. “Say ‘kink’ again, Goldilocks.”

“You’re disgusting. And predictable. Boring, even.” I quirk an eyebrow. “I could forgive the rudeness, but being boring? I can’t forgive that.”

There’s fire in his eyes. “The last thing I am is boring.”

The dark timbre of his voice, the promise behind his words, chases my annoyance away, replacing it with pure heat. He would make me melt in his arms in moments, of that I have no doubt.

But I don’t melt. And I don’t do soulmates.