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[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Masterlist

COD men

Bloodmoon - Sheriff Price x Witchy Girl Aggravation - Cowboy Ghost x city girl

Slytherin Boys - no shame really at this point

White Roses - Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw Girl Red - Oliver Wood x Slytherin Girl Opposites Attract - Tom Riddle x Slytherin Girl

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 20]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: consuming alcohol, description of mildly s'xual nature, occult, touching, cursing, emotional damage, hearing voices and stuff, age gap, slow burn, mean price but then he's sweet (bear with me), mention of dark themes and violence, mention of bloodily fluids that are dark red, mention of d'ceased bodies hey there, loves... merry christmas, i guess hehe. been struggling with this chapter for a while now... started writing it early november and i just could not get it done -- still questioning (and very much hate) it. anyways, it was written in various mental states over two months, and i'm very much over some family dinner where too much spirit was served sooo the editing is questionable too. but, i hope you'll enjoyyy :)

I Hate You

I kept tossing and turning all night. 

The images of the night kept replaying in my mind. His blue eyes, the scent emanating from him, his warm touch on my neck, his lips on mine… 

There was something absolutely shameful about it. Letting a man who had been nothing but awful to you kiss you – and you enjoying it. Not to mention, according to Rosa’s hints, he was 10 years older than me – although, when he was pressing into me, I did not really notice… 

And what’s worse? He was hot, sure… But he was utterly intelligent, connecting information in mere seconds, seeing things from a realistic point of view that was deliciously alien for me, and absolutely exciting. And I hated to admit it, but he was funny too… Not in a jokester sense, not like Johnny, but he had a distinct flare, a sort of dark humor that kept me entertained all night.

Sure, he was blunt, not really seeing the beauty in choosing yellow instead of red for a background on a tarot card… But he… Something in his eyes told me, that even though he did not recognize beauty immediately, he was trying and – 

God, what am I saying?

I turned to my side. The sky was heavy grey outside. According to my phone, 5.43 am. 

I closed my eyes again, trying to catch some sleep, giving him a chance to infiltrate my mind again… 

My knee warmed on his muscular thigh, his scent rubbed off on my sweater that was now discarded somewhere on the floor, his lips twitching into a smile, and his neck… The picture of him with lowered eyelids, leaning back on my couch, letting his head fall back, exposing his neck, and the urge to bit– 

“Okay!” I sat up immediately, kicking my heavy duvet off, hands fighting with the sheets, feeling Omen glaring at me from the other side of the bed as I started to curse at the spirits. 

“It’s not funny you know!” I pushed my bare feet to the dark red rug beside my bed. “You live on the other side, hidden from most people. I have to meet this man today! Can you stop with the erotic montage, seriously?” I shook my head, rubbing my eyes angrily. 

Then I stopped. 

The house was quiet. 

“Fucking hell… I’m going to be a crazy cat lady.” I grumbled grabbing my robe and walking from the room, Omen stretching and jumping from the bed just as I stepped into my hallway. I was pushing my arms through the sleeves. “Or maybe I already am. It wouldn’t be the first in my family.” 

The steps creaked under my feet, and I shook my head, “I’m talking to myself again.” 

I switched a small light on in the kitchen, moving on the cold tile slowly, a bit sluggish, but my jaw was already clenched. Six in the morning, and my blood pressure was probably through the roof. 

My hands moved on autopilot, getting the parts of the coffee machine, putting the grounded coffee into the portafilter, then screwing it to its place. 

The quiet buzz of the machine filled the silence, and the smell of coffee started to linger in my home. Although, my eyes were fixed on the two crystal glasses that were still unwashed in my sink… 

Omen jumped on the counter, pulling me from my mind, then his little paws patted my arm as his big green eyes demanded cuddles. Weird behaviour from my crazy black cat. 

But he was too damn cute. 

I scooped him up and hugged him tightly. 

“My little demon,” I giggled as he rubbed his little black head under my chin. I gently swayed with him, holding his heavy(er) bum, cooing to him that he was getting round for the winter. “You’re gonna look sooo good on the Christmas cards,” I padded across the floor and his ears flattened on his head as if to warn me. But I just giggled, kissing his tiny forehead. 

Once the music started to play, I felt better. 

Coffee brewed, salmon readied for Omen, and I was eating brownies for breakfast. 

Time did not stop with kissing the sheriff… And I oddly felt fine. 

__ __ __ __ __ __ __

Saturday felt busy. 

I got dressed that morning, casually, some loose jeans, a black long sleeve hidden under a chunky sweater and a big scarf. I was always cold, but moving around in a coat proved to be difficult, so I wrapped myself in layers and headed out to help Rosa with her last minute preparations. 

I was more of a… moral support, if you will. Rosa arguing with incompetent people irl and on the phone, a subtle vein popping on her forehead when somebody asked something stupid, but otherwise, she was calm… I did not buy her caffeine anymore – we stuck to tea. 

Tea and brownies, to be exact. 

An agreement with her subordinates to dictate sugar and warmth into her – because magically, Rosa never barked at me. She was like a crazy, demanding boss one second, shouting at people who were clearly slacking, not really doing what they were asked to do; then she would turn to me with utterly round, warm brown eyes asking:

 “Anyways, would you like to go shopping next week? Maybe a nail salon too,” she glanced at her barely outgrown nails. But you know, you cannot exactly tell a perfectionist that they are absolutely perfect – because perfectionists will always doubt, and they always find something that they can improve. 

“Of course,” I smiled at her, handing a hot cup of tea to her which she took without thinking. 

“I’m taking a few days off next week. The incompetence tires me,” she blew gently on her paper cup, and I giggled, then I heard a calm voice. 

“You should take the whole week off, Mrs. Garrick,” we both turned, seeing Officer Garrick and… the sheriff walking, their boots crunching gravel. “You should spend it with your husband.” 

“My husband is working, Officer. What a fool,” Rosa’s lips quirked as she sipped some tea, and I was biting back giggles watching them interact. And Officer Garrick just grinned, leaning a bit over her. 

“What a fool, in fact. But I just heard he asked for a leave to spend more time with his stunning wife,” he kept the eye contact with her.

“Kyle,” Rosa gasped, her cheeks flushing red, lashes fluttering in surprise.

It felt as if I was intruding something utterly intimate, and I just had to turn my head away. My hand hid my lips as I giggled, and glanced up at the sheriff, who too, was fighting a smile, but his eyes crinkled in the corner. 

Then his blue eyes slipped to me. I was biting my lip as a giggle slipped, and his jaw was moving as if to hold back his amusement.

Icy blue eyes softened for half a second, then he averted his gaze.

He cleared his throat, big hands grabbing the collar of his vest, as he spoke. 

“Officer Garrick,” Price called his name, and Kyle ceased flirting with his wife, and after a maddeningly calm smile, he straightened his back. 

“I’m coming, boss.” The younger man smiled, then joined the sheriff on their way to god knows where. 

Laughter burst from my chest, as Rosa was red, and flustered beyond recognition. 

“I did not know that anybody could turn you docile,” I fell into step next to her, as she was trying to gain composure. 

“I’m nowhere near docile, it’s just Kyle… Ugh, Lord, he is still such a flirt. You’d think he’d grow out of it, but no…” she complained but her berry red lips quirked in the corners. “Manwhore,” she mumbled, eyes fixed in the distance. 

“Rosa!” I laughed, almost spilling my tea on the road. 

There was something thoroughly entertaining about a wife degrading her husband… And still being madly in love with him. 

Rosa and I spent our morning and early afternoon checking booths, tents, decorations and flyers. We walked by the centerpiece time and time again, and the memories kept flashing back.

I mean, I was proud of our little decoration, but it did not help that the whispers and my own mind kept wandering back to being underneath the sheriff, him looking at me as if I was glass, gently pulling straws from my hair…

I jerked my head to the side, cursing quietly, and Rosa looked at me with big eyes. 

“What was that?” she blinked, and my eyes darted at her. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“Did you just curse in Latin?” her brows knotted, brown eyes inspecting me. 

“No?” I bit my lip and she laughed. 

“Yes, you did!” her grin grew wider throwing in the line. “What, did the Sheriff kiss you again?” 

“Why would you ask that?” My head snapped towards her and now her jaw fell open, eyes grew big and I immediately knew: I fucked up. 

“Oh my God, he did!” 

“What, no!” 

“Don’t lie, Phina, I know your cues by now,” she grabbed my wrist, and she leaned closer, her eyes sparkling. “Why didn’t you tell me? I knew something was up with you! You seemed too deep in thought this morning and–” 

“Rosa, I swear,” I frantically tried to silence her. “Not this loud, please,” I whimpered and she bit her lip, glancing around, then grabbing my hand and pulling me towards a booth that was used for stacking electrical gears. 

She pushed me inside the hut. I stood like a child caught stealing cookies, as she looked at me, and crossed her arms. She was grinning. 

“Spill.” 

“No, Rosa,” I sighed and collapsed onto a box, and she was utterly entertained. “It was nothing… We… I don’t know, I was helping him with some runes or whatever, and convo turned casual, and by the end we kissed… But I sent him away.” 

“Ah, Jesus, it’s so hard with you two,” she sighed. “Why would you send him away?” 

“Because… he kinda sorta almost kissed me, then pulled back, I got angry, then he grabbed me, kissed me, I panicked, and I sent him away…” I was rambling then I moved my hand in circular motion, drawing my brows together trying to remember the sequence. “Yeah, more or less.” 

“Fucking… Jesus…” Rosa was massaging her temple, then the hut’s door creaked open and we both snapped out head to the side. 

Johnny looked at us with big eyes; his puppy blues sparkling then wide grin appearing on his lips. 

“Well, hello there,” he came in without asking, his big body taking up much of our space in the little hut, leaning down to me, pulling me into a bone crunching hug. 

“Johnny, no,” I whined but he liked hugging me. He had too big of a heart if you ask me… 

“This feels like high school, tell me the gossip” he leaned against a big box after he pried info out of us; and Rosa and I shared a look, then there was no going back. 

Johnny was the best man to gossip with; animate, gasping, whisper shouting ‘no he did not’, meanwhile he looked like he could rip a tree trunk apart, little sheep on his forearm and all. 

And he listened, like, he really did. His puppy blue eyes slipped to my face then back to Rosa as I shared some, not all, of the details of my previous night. 

“You guys are terrible at this… Like, the whole police station knows he has the hots for you, and yet he dances back every damn time,” Johnny sighed, and Rosa nodded as if it was not new information to her either. 

“Don’t tell me that people actually think that we’d get together.” I looked at them weirdly, and they matched my facial expression. 

“It’s the matter of time, lass.” Johnny used his ‘duh’ tone on me. 

“Sure, because a whimsical hippie and an ex-military dude are such a great pair,” I rolled my eyes. 

“There’s been weirder couples,” Rosa smirked, but before she’d elaborate Johnny added:

“And he’s not some ex-military dude, he was a captain,” he raised his pointer finger like a know-it-all.

“Great,” I scoffed, shaking my head, then we heard it.

Heavy steps, then the door creaking again. 

The big frame of Officer Riley appeared. 

He locked eyes with us, and we looked back at him. 

He just stared, then he nodded, and pulled the door back shut behind him – his face was screaming ‘i ain't inserting myself into stupid shit’. 

We sat there for a second in silence.

Staring at the door, then at each other. 

Laughter bursts from Johnny’s lips first, then Rosa’s, then I lost it too, hiding my face into my palms as my shoulder shook. 

“It’s better if we go, I gotta de-traumatize Simon,” Johnny got up grabbing the cords he was initially sent to. 

“Yeah, it’s better if we go too,” Rosa nodded and I got up, dusting off my jeans, and as the three of us spilled from the little hut, me closing the line.

There was something adorable and childlike about gossiping with your friends, hidden away… Yet, as I turned, my blood ran cold. 

I glanced up after I promptly closed the door – the very big body of Sheriff Price stood stable only a few meters away from us, looking at our faces with utter disbelief. He squinted, then he rubbed his eyelids. 

“You know what? I’m not even gonna ask…” he sighed, then he ticked his head to the side, as if a command. “MacTavish.” 

“Yes, sir,” Johnny walked after him, and he very obviously checked him out – I mean his head tilted, eyes dragging from the man’s broad shoulders to his nicely sculpted butt –  then he turned back towards us, mouthing something along the lines of ‘I don’t blame you Phiny’.

And he was grinning – well, until he was grabbed by Officer Riley, and Johnny actually yelped. 

And I had to hold onto Rosa’s arm, not to fall from the laughter that was produced by the surreality of the situation. Not that she was much help, she was wheezing as well, and like two idiots, we just kept giggling, trying to wipe away our mascaras in a way not to smudge on our faces. __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

At the festival I did not consider myself to be looking like a whore.

Sure, I looked hot… Considering the event, I probably went a bit over the top, but it was nothing different than my usual attire. 

However, the whispers came and tried to choke me. Well, not really my thoughts or ancestors but the kind ladies from church. They wore longer skirts, and covered up like 'proper ladies' would.

Well, I wore long skirts too, however, there was a long slit running up until my mid-thigh. Nothing scandalous, still. I was being stared at. People liked looking at my legs that were stuffed in black stockings and dark red cowboy boots.

I walked around the square, striking up conversation with town folks, saying hi to the young and the elderly, until Johnny found me. After that I was kinda stuck with him – and his brooding boss.  

Oddly,  the Sheriff seemed calm that evening, and I liked that energy about him. We were standing by the tea stand – hot tea was warming my fingers, and we gently chatted about… well, the readings we had. To make things worse, he looked ridiculously hot when he was talking slowly, voice dipping, leaning a bit closer, so it was only us, standing in the circle, who could hear whatever he was talking about. 

“Based on what the Sheriff has told me, Johnny, I think you’re dealing with someone who is genuinely into this stuff,” I shook my head talking to the man. I had no idea why we’d discuss such delicate matters in the middle of the fair, but nonetheless, it came up, and we started to talk. “I mean, those symbols… Sure, half of them seemed bullshit, but they were placed around the crime scene in a rather intentional manner,” I held onto my cup of tea tightly. 

“I understand, Phiny, but this is Briar Hollow… Not many actually study the occult here,” Johnny disagreed, and I was ready to argue back. And the Sheriff? He was just listening, and I felt his eyes on me, assessing me… Staring and observing in an almost protective manner, gently placing his hand on my back as kids dashed behind me, and pushed his shoulders wilder as mildly drunk people stumbled past us.

He was ridiculous…

Ridiculous…

Ridiculously deep cadence, ridiculously broad shoulders, ridiculously intelligent blue eyes, boring into mines whenever they were not squinting at Johnny.

And I was mesmerized.

His cologne was maddening, mixing into the cold autumn evening, the smoke, the warm scent of apple pies. 

I was trying to focus on Johnny, though. His blue eyes were much wilder, more sparkling, more joyful… However, I did not feel what I felt with the Sheriff…

There was something more about the older man. Something fated that I did not dare to inspect just yet… 

“That is entirely plausible,” I mumbled, pulling my scarf tighter around myself.

It was cold… November was closing up on us, and I underestimated just how cold autumn nights can get. However, before I could say anything about it, maybe even excuse myself to retreat my coat from my car, heavy material landed on my shoulder. 

“The symbols are most definitely pointing towards someone who is at least mildly familiar with witchcraft,” Price’s deep voice filled my head. He was talking to Johnny, but even his eyes grew big as his boss put his jacket over my shoulders. 

My head turned to look up at Price, but he did not comment. He did not even glanced at me as adjusted the material, then pulled back, crossing his big arms. It seemed, I mean… He acted so nonchalant about it… As if it was normal to lend your police jacket to the random witch you were consulting on your case with… 

“I hate this case,” Johnny rubbed his cheek, and Price just hummed. The two men shared a glance that was loaded, and I could feel it in the air – words, remaining unspoken, details hidden from the civilian. “I gotta go… I promised Lt. I’d join him while patrolling.” 

“Good thinking,” Price nodded along and Johnny grinned at me, already walking backward. 

“See ya' later, Phiny!” he waved and his body was swallowed by the crowd. 

I waved after him, then the awkward silence settled. 

The sheriff stood tall beside me, I glanced up at him as his cold eyes were resting on the town folks.

My lips pressed into a tight line, as my fingers twisted into his coat. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” I mumbled, but he heard me. 

“Do what?” he asked and I turned my head to glare at him.

His tall frame created a wall between me and the flood of people trying to get from one part of the fair to the other. His eyes were unreadable, no emotions showing on his face, beard making his stone face more intimidating, but a small smirk was sitting in the corner of his mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re annoying,” I shook my head, and turned my gaze from him. Though, I pulled his coat tighter around me as a gush of wind danced through the packed square. 

“You’re always this volatile?” his deep voice wrapped around me, and I was ready to bark at him, turning my head to him, but my eyes widened.

He stepped in front of me, his hunk of a body towering over me, his hands reaching behind my neck. His warm touch pressed against my skin, then ever so gently, he moved his fingers. 

My lashes fluttered, as the reddish locks slipped between his fingers. His eyes were calm, focused on rescuing my long hair from below his heavy coat and breath stuck in my lungs.

Could not help it; dark red flushed my cheeks, as his tranquil gaze rested on me. 

My jade eyes slipped between his icy ones. For a second everything disappeared, and it felt as if only me and him were standing on that square. 

No children screaming, no drunken laughter. Only his eyes boring into mines, his warm touch, his cologne and that sinful urge to reach out and pull him closer…

“Much better, huh?” his voice snapped me out of it.

I averted my gaze, and blinked rapidly. 

“Yeah, thanks,” I cleared my throat, looking at anywhere but at him. 

“C’mon, let me walk you to Rosalinde,” he said after a few seconds of silence, and I looked up at him confused. 

“I’m more than capable of walking by myself…” I scowled, and he looked down at me, as if bored. 

“You’re still a small woman, Ms. Barlow… I also watched you stumble around the fair previously,” he added.

“I didn’t stumble! I just… went with the flow,” I mumbled thinking back to how him and Johnny basically picked me up from a random group of people I was unable to break from before…

I quite literally needed rescuing -- and he made sure to tease me about it.

“Right, that’s what I’ve witnessed,” he sounded amused. I huffed and started to walk, but sure enough, he followed. 

It was easier to walk around the fair when a six-foot-something man, who was as big as a fridge, was walking right beside you. His long, strong arm extended behind me – never touching… only a little brush of finger on my hip, when changing directions… 

I hated to admit how much easier life was with him; and sure I was fuming! But he kept talking and making me talk about something mundane, like, the tea being too sugary or how the food was usually too greasy at these events. And it surprised me, how normal… how human this man could be. 

“Don’t you have something more important to do? Something policy?” I grunted as he pulled me by my waist, making me avoid near collision with another drunken hunter group. 

“What? Escorting the town’s witch is not enough police-work for you?” he asked back amused.

“You do know that I’m not the only practitioner in this town, right?” I glared up at him, and he stared above the crowd, keeping his hand now heavily on me, stirring me from another cluster of people. 

“Well, it is very much apparent. But since you’ve arrived, people’s interest in the occult exponentially grew – you’re quite literally infecting the youth,” he glanced down at me, and I gasped. 

“I do not,” I glared and his lip quirked just for a second.

“You do,” his jaw remained tense, face emotionless, but in the corner of his eyes, little lines appeared.

This idiot was having plenty of fun!

“And you know why I know?" he asked as we turned a corner. "Because the amount of calls about teens having lil’ rituals around town also grew.” 

“It’s goddamn Halloween, Sheriff,” I huffed, feeling redness reach my ears as we walked, and his body kept pressing up to mine as we passed people.  

“Perhaps,” he smirked, and I just glared in front of me, unable to meet his eyes. “But just so you know, Father Benson had to lecture the church-goers about excommunicating an ‘alleged’ witch.” 

“This is so not funny, Sheriff,” I glared up at him as we arrived to the information desk, and his blue eyes dipped to my jade one. “What if some crazy people will actually want to dip me in water to see if I’m a witch or not?” I shook my head, looking to the side, shoulders dipping in defeat.

Because sure, you’d think that there are no longer idiots, who believe in the old witch-hunter stuff… But I had some weird experiences, and I suddenly felt small in my body. It was rather disheartening to learn that town-folks actually went to the priest -- my priest -- to ask him about the exclusion of me from church services. 

“As if I ever let that happen,” wind gushed past me, taking his voice. 

My eyes grew big and I turned to stare up at the man standing in front of me. His blue eyes rested on me as my long strands danced with the wind. 

I wasn’t sure if I heard it correctly or not. 

I wasn’t even sure if he’d spoken. 

But the way he was staring down at me… Something twisted in my stomach. 

My lips fell open, but right as I was about to ask-- 

“Ah, Phina! 'Been looking for you,” Rosa smiled as she walked from the belly of the tent with another lady. “People 'been asking about the decoration at the center! They were flabbergasted that you actually got the Sheriff to participate in anything mildly creative,” 

“What?” I smiled and the sheriff’s whole demeanour shifted. His back straightened, jaw set, eyes cold. He looked like the law itself – distant and cold. 

“The center-piece, darling. It looks fabulous, heard it was yours and Sheriff Price’s project?” the lady repeated almost the same thing, and I blinked. 

“Oh, yeah, well… We've worked on it…” I cleared my throat and I glanced at Price, hoping he would add something – anything, really. 

“It looks utterly beautiful, I’m making the town’s online magazine’s editor write about it. Stunning, darling,” the lady was getting all heated, and I glanced at Rosa – who was sporting a big ass smile – with a questioning look, since I wasn’t really sure who the lady was. “Oh, and the children’s tent! Sheriff, have you seen it?!” the lady clapped her hands together, making me jump a little. 

“I did,” he nodded and the lady was gushing. 

“Oh, and wasn’t it wonderful?! Those paintings, absolutely stunning, darling. You must come help during the spring, we are planning on re-decorating the kindergarten building,” she said, but before I could humbly deflect, she spun right back to the sheriff, making me almost giggle and glance at Rosa. “Those drawings, weren’t they just absolutely gorgeous, Sheriff?” 

“They were. Ms. Barlow is a very talented woman,” Price nodded, and my heart jumped a little.

I glanced up at the tall man, but his eyes were locked on the lady, still talking and talking about those drawings, but all I could hear was those few words – talented woman…

I could not recall when, if ever, Price even said remotely nice things about me. And here he was… Complementing me to a random lady, who kept repeating herself with those big, beautiful words. 

Yet, I was hung up on his few. 

“It was a pleasure,” Price let a small, polite smile slip on his lip. “I must go.” 

“Sure, sure, go Sheriff. You must have plenty to do!” The lady waved him off, and I wanted to say something to him, anything, as our eyes met one last time. 

His blues were calm, almost… gentle. 

But he said nothing, just nodded, and walked off. Left me frozen in my place, fingers digging into his heavy jacket – the jacket, I realized, I should have given him back. 

“I should–” I wanted to step after him, but Rosa gently placed her hand on my shoulder. 

“Leave it,” she smiled, and I blinked. “You’ll give it back later, it’s a long night.” 

Oh…

And how long it was, indeed. 

– – – – – – – – – – – 

I have not seen him for days. 

After the fair Briar Hollow was dark. Heavy clouds hid away the blue skies, and the cold November air decided to remain. There were no longer warmer, orange colored October days. November arrived with death, and the town was aware. 

As for the sheriff? 

His eyes were constantly hidden, cap pulled low, moving like a man with purpose – maybe even an obsession that was eating him alive. 

I kept remembering his face, the pain that contorted his fine lines when his radio cracked to life that night.

He, for better or for worse, seemed defeated. 

He was outplayed by the killer. 

It all happened that night – the night of the fair. 

The body of a woman was found in the woods, exposed in a ritualistic manner, much closer than ever before – in the woods, right outside of Briar Hollow’s borders. But just as the fair, the crime scene was destroyed by that heavy first November rain. 

Or so I was told…

Because oddly, the Sheriff refused to show me the latest symbols… 

We argued about it. Needless to say, it became rather ugly rather fast. 

And it was embarrassing, standing at the diner, being towered over by that man, who was once again insulting my intelligence with whatever words came to his mind first… 

It was another heavy week, rainy, dark, and cold… The rain had been falling for days by then, and the Sheriff looked as if he had not slept, well, since that body turned up.

“I’ve told you to drop it,” he grumbled low, staring into his coffee. I was standing beside his tall body, his jacket that once looked enormous on me, now strained against his broad shoulders.

“I don’t understand you… Just let me help,” I shook my head, looking up at him, even though he refused my gaze. His men were sitting at the booth not far from us… All of them tense, as the Sheriff kept playing hot and cold. “Sheriff, I–” 

“Goddamn it, Barlow!” he slammed his hand on the counter, mugs and cheap cutlery rattling. 

I did not dare to move, as his jaw tensed and nostrils flared. His body moved, slow, threatening. My heart jumped to my throat and my eyes widened, as violence glinted in those once utterly calm blue eyes.

“I have enough problems without you. Let me work, let the fucking law-enforcement work. Do not insert yourself into something you have no damn business to deal with!” he towered over me, and I felt it. “Just drop it! Go, drink your damn tea and play with your cards, if you wish. This is a murder-case, not a damn town fair spectacle,” he snarled, shaking his head.

The silence that followed his booming voice was gut-wrenching.

I felt my fingers shake beside my body, my throat tighten, my blood roaring in my ears as my eyes filled with tears. 

In the sickening silence, I heard rustling behind us. I knew it was Johnny who stood up, trying to diffuse the situation, but by that time, it was done. 

I blinked once. And Price’s blue eyes finally fell into mine and I saw it. His lashes fluttering just once, his mind realizing what he’d done. 

“Seraphi–” he sighed, but I shook my head.

“It’s alright, I know… I’m sorry,” I breathed, a mere whimper. Pathetic, really, that noise that left my lips. Barely even words, crushed under the weight that was pressing on my lungs.

Then I stepped to the side, fighting the pressure in my chest, threatening to burst open in front of people. Fear, humiliation, anxiety.

My quick steps felt loud in the mute diner. I did not dare to look up… At that point I was sure, everyone in town saw me, at least once, being crushed by the sheriff.

“Phiny–” Johnny’s voice disappeared behind the door slamming shut after me. 

The cold water washed all over me, wind slicing at my delicate skin. 

Well, it was most definitely done.

I missed it, really… I should have expected him to be like that. And realistically? I knew he was stressed. Emotionally? Him shouting at me was maybe the wake-up call… I shouldn’t have let him do this to me. I shouldn’t have tolerated that treatment from him… 

The weeks following that day at the diner were quiet. 

It rained a lot, there were no sunny days – which were not so great for my mental health, but were perfect for my craft. I spent those days inside, curled up with Omen, working on special orders to Lindy, or concocting new spells and hexes to deal with knuckleheads… 

However, despite myself, I still met up with people… Just not the sheriff. Getting my nails done with Rosa, getting Johnny to test new cookies, random book-switches at the library with Officer Riley, and even simple run-ins with Kyle. 

Kyle Garrick who was the biggest advocate of Price, telling me how the man was just…

“I know he is tired, Kyle,” I poured cinnamon into my coffee at Ms. Dotti’s. “And I know he is a good man, but,” I looked up at the tall man with the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. For a second I faltered, but then let myself smile. “But this is not your war. I’m pretty sure he’d tell you this if that man ever spoke about feelings.” 

“Seraphina…” he sighed and I tilted my head. 

“Really, Kyle. I am well, I guess, I just never learn. I needed those harsh words,” the lid of the coffee cup clicked to its place. The tall man watched my movements, but did not comment.

“He just wanted to pr–” Kyle sighed frustrated, not finishing his sentence and I looked at him. 

“He what?” I blinked up at him, but Officer Garrick refused to meet my eyes. 

“Just… It will be clear later. I have to go,” his deep brown eyes glanced at me, and I brought my brows together. “Do you need a ride home?” 

“No, thank you, but Kyle…” confusion filled my body, but he grabbed what he bought and was already walking off. 

“Drive safe, Sera,” he waved and he was out of the door.

Ms. Dotti’s café fell into obscure silence. The buzz  of the low lights mixed with the random jazzy playlist that the employees chose for that day. 

I felt it again – I was kept in the dark, and it was getting too apparent. Everybody was aware of something that I was not. 

Johnny refused to tell me, Officer Riley avoided my eyes, and Kyle tried to tell me to stop searching for answers why this hit the sheriff so hard. 

But the most annoying habit of my fine companions became that they kept biting the end of their sentences. Never finishing, yet, they kept slipping. And I was confused as hell for most of November, wondering if there was something terrible going on that people thought I could not handle…

Or…

Did they keep the conversations tight because the sheriff thought I was his killer, after all? 

– – – – – – – – –

It was another cold night with violent, raging wind. 

The cold gushes of air kept rattling the old window panels, a noise I’ve gotten used to over the past month. Darkness consumed most of my home, but it was warm. 

The TV was on, low murmur in the background I wasn’t even paying attention to… But I still needed it. Hoped that the noise from the old machine would drown out the whispers, however, that night everything felt amplified. 

Low chatter in my kitchen, a gentle breeze on my neck. Omen was calm, that was the only reason I did not leave my home. 

It was alive. The house.

 Every creak, every swoosh sending shivers down my spine, as I kept spiraling. 

I was also contemplating leaving the town. 

It wasn’t my proudest moment, really. But it no longer felt fun, it only felt heavy, and pressing. 

Walking the streets of Briar Hollow, seeing friendly and not so friendly faces. And the whispers. They were getting too loud. 

Omen sat up on the couch, rounded his back, and his movement pulled me out of my thoughts. He jumped from the couch, and then I felt it. 

I touched the back of my neck, then a deep coil twisted in my stomach. 

He is coming. 

My mouth dried, and my heart clenched. I kicked the blanket off my legs, and I placed my bare feet on the ground. I stood up too fast, ringing in my ear getting louder.

My steps were more of muscle-memory than conscious choices, yet, I tried to stop myself. I leaned against the doorframe, trying to collect my thoughts, pushing out the whispers as I shut my eyes. 

Annoyance, that was all. Not worry, not hope, annoyance that once again, I knew, I was making a mistake, but I was doing it anyway – because I had to. 

He… Let him in… He’s coming… help him…

 I tried to shake it all away, but what stopped the noises was not me. 

It was him. 

His fist was heavy against the wood. Three knocks, almost shaking the old wood of my front door out of its frames. 

There was no real control in my body. The feelings, the hurrying deep need that burned in my heart.

I felt… compelled.

And I opened the door without thinking. 

Oh. 

He was leaning against the frame, clothes soaked with rain, eyes heavy from alcohol. 

Little drips. Even over the rain, the thunder and the gushing wind, I could hear. 

Slow drips, but not of water.

I glanced at his hand, the one that was not strained against my door, hanging limp beside his big body. Long fingers painted dark red, blood streaming slowly, mixing with the water gushing from his clothes, dripping to the curb. 

“Jesus, Sheriff–” I opened my mouth, looking back into the heavy, devastatingly blue gaze. Annoyance turned into concern in mere seconds. 

My heart pressed against my ribs painfully. I did not finish the sentence, and he did not speak. He just stared, grey haze clouding his otherwise sharp eyes.

My fingers twisted into the front of his soaked shirt – he wasn’t wearing a coat or anything… Just a long sleeve and jeans. “You’re gonna catch a cold,” my voice felt alien. But as I pulled him, he moved without any objection.

His tall body ate up most of the space in my dimly lit hallway, and as the door shut behind him, the storm quieting a little, I could hear it clearly. That awful slow drip, drip, drip. 

He remained silent, he just stood in the hallway and let me push him to whichever direction I wanted to. My fingers let go of the wet material of his once, probably dark blue sweater, and they wrapped around his heavy hand, pulling it closer to the light source – blood tainting my fingertips immediately. 

“What have you done?” I mumbled searching for the wounds, not really finding them under the bloody sheen. My bony fingers trembled, turning his big palm, my pale skin getting smeared with his blood. 

He was towering above me, his scent mixed with rain and whiskey. I looked up at him, head tipping back completely as my eyes locked with his. His face was half hidden by shadows, but he was staring into my soul. His breathing was heavy, his chest rose and fell under his soaked shirt. I felt like crying, seeing the man I thought was a rock, utterly and devastatingly broken by whatever heavy weight he’d been carrying.

My eyes searched for him behind the dark gaze, trying to find the answers of why he was there.

His other hand, slowly but with sureness, rose to my face. His thumb brushed my cheek, his other fingers brushed against my neck. His touch was sharp, ice cold against my warm skin. His gaze lowered onto my neck. 

I was transported back to one of our first interactions…

 I felt like a lamb in the grasp of the wolf.

“John…” I whispered and his eyes snapped back to my jade ones. My lips pressed into a thin line and I felt his bloodied hand twitch between mines. 

I stepped away from him, but I would not let go of his hand. I gently pulled him with me, and he followed into the dark dining room.

The heavy velvet curtains let the lace slip between them, revealing the darkness of the outside world. I did not dare to switch the main lights on. I was afraid to see him. 

I moved in the darkness, pulling a chair out, then gently pushed him to it, and I moved away to gather… warm water, towel, first aid kit. Still, as I moved around in my kitchen, steps quiet but hasty, I felt his eyes on me. Heavy blue irises never leaving my body. 

I placed everything down on the table, and he kept his mouth shut. He just watched me with his devastatingly blue eyes. Had no chance of reading him, his thoughts remained hidden from me, as always. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I stepped between his legs, gently dropping a towel around his neck. 

My hands moved slowly, gently, afraid I’d hurt him if I moved too fast. I started drying his hair, then his face slowly. I wiped away the cold drops from his jaw, his neck. His skin was burning under the cold sheen of wetness. 

I could not help myself… His quiet scared me, so I kept talking. “What were you thinking? You were supposed to be the voice of reason…” I mumbled, trying to get him to talk, but he would not budge. He just stared at me. I had to avert my gaze as I accidentally met his blue eyes.

I could not read him, and I gently moved his head, just a little, so I could slip my towel-covered hands behind his ear, pat gently down the side of his neck. “You know, if the roles were reversed, you’d be calling me a lunatic,” I said softly, with a little smile. But then I kept on rambling on a hushed tone. “Talk to me, sheriff… Aren’t you cold?” I shook my head as my lunatic comment did not coax him. I was growing restless by the second. I let the towel slip from my hand, and I pressed the back of my fingers against his cheeks. 

His skin was scorching hot. Probably the alcohol…

Then my lashes fluttered. His hands, both of them moved. One only resting on my thigh, the other bunching up my silk nightgown at my hip. My eyes cut to his, I almost fell into his chest as he pulled. 

“Sheriff,” I yelped softly, pushing on his shoulder, but he moved. My eyes opened wide, petrified. 

Because he did not move back.

No, – his big body moved and slumped forward. 

I gasped, I stepped back and he was on his knees. 

“John,” a scared gasp slipped my lips, as I felt his strong arms pull me forward. One on my lower back, the other behind my thighs. And his face pressed into the soft flesh of my stomach. 

A shrouded sigh slipped from his lips. 

“You’ve cursed me,” his voice was thick, deep, rasped. As if arriving from the depths of the underworld. 

I was looking down at him, my hands frozen in the air, as he pulled me closer, his face buried into my silk covered flesh. 

“You plague my mind, day and night, I cannot not think about you,” his fingers dug into my skin and I had to grab onto his shoulder so I would not fall. “You taunt me in the daylight then haunt me in my dreams, not giving me any rest, pushing me into maddening spirals…” 

“John, come on, you’re… you’re drunk,” I tried to push him back a bit, trying to bring him back to the grounds of reality. But his fingers just tightened. 

His forehead rested against my stomach, and I felt his hot breath through the thin material of my gown. “John, “I whispered, a finger slipping to his neck, but then I froze. 

“I tried so hard… So hard to push you away, to scare you off… I made sure…” his deep voice filled the quiet, maddening silence of the dining room. I did not dare to move, nor breathe as he continued, his face buried into my skin, hands clutching onto my body as if I was the only anchor he knew.  “And yet, you were stupid enough… always coming back for more slaps, always with those big eyes, looking at me with hope I was aching to destroy.” 

My mouth dried, my heart drummed against my ribs. His breath stuttered, then he looked up at me, eyes shadowed by darkness, blues dimmed, pupils blown. “And I could not deal with it… I was terrible, and you came back time and time again for more darkness making me question all my morals.” 

“You’re not making any sense, John, stop…” I breathed, pushing a shaking hand on his face. I swallowed hard, fingers shaking against his beard. “You’re freezing… and… Let me… let me take care of your hand,” tried to calm him, well, mostly myself. I just wasn’t sure what to do, how to react when a man was on his knees right in front of me.

My hands slipped to his jaw, and I gently rubbed my thumb on his cheekbone, noticing little scars of the past under his beard. 

“Please… Sit, don’t be on your knees…” I mumbled ever so softly. But he grunted, for a few seconds he let his face be buried into the silk, his hands gripping, bunching up the material exposing more of my legs. 

It sent shivers down my spine, and as he rose to his feet, towing above me my whole chest shook of… not even sure of what… fear? Dread? Anticipation? 

“It’s better… if I go,” he mumbled, and I twisted my fingers into the drenched material of his shirt, water dripping down my white knuckles. His eyes snapped to me as my voice came out more sure. 

“Sit back down.” 

His lashes fluttered, and my jade greens remained unwavered. I kept staring into his eyes, trying to remain serious, sure.

And he sat. Letting his knees part, so I could get closer to him. 

And as the storm rattled and howled outside the window, inside a similar storm was brewing. 

I was patting antiseptic on his knuckles, on the small wounds. 

Cuts and busted knuckles… As if he put his hand through a wall, or something that would break into little shards. I slowly cleaned his hand. He did not even flinch, and I pursed my lips. 

“You seem angry,” he breathed and without missing a beat I spoke. 

“You seem stupid,” I kept patting the blood away, and something dangerously close to a chuckle left his lips. 

“I can’t argue with that,” he breathed, leaning back on the chair, his legs moving a bit, wet jeans brushing against my warm skin, then falling further apart. 

“You’ve never answered what you have done…” I did not look at him, but I felt his blues resting on me, following every small movement, how my fingers reached for a new cotton pad drenched in stinking liquid. 

“I put my hand through a window,” he said and I stopped. 

I glanced at him. He did not seem proud, he seemed utterly emotionless, his voice being tone deaf to the words that left his mouth. 

“Why?” I averted my gaze, focusing on a longer cut on the lower part of his palm, gently cleaning the wound. He let me move his hand as I wished, fingers twitching ever so slightly when my skin caressed his damp, calloused palm. 

“I was frustrated,” 

“You had many frustrations before, never seen you put a hand through shards,” I put the cotton pad down and reached for the gauze. He did not answer me. So, I continued. “I would ask if you’re okay, but you are clearly not…” 

“Amazing detective job,” he huffed and I glared at him, but a small smirk twitched on his lips. 

“You are plenty confident for a man drenched in water, wasted by whiskey, sitting in the kitchen of a woman he hates,” 

“I don’t hate you.” he cut into my words, and my hand froze mid twisting the gauze, then a low chuckle left my lips.

“Could have fooled me,” I mumbled, reaching for the scissors, and cutting the clean white material. 

“Ms. Barlow…” 

“Is this truly necessary?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. “I think we are way past the polite surface level addressing of each other.” 

My stomach knotted as I felt his hand on my hip. I glanced down to it, big hand resting on my side, then I looked back into his eyes. “You have some nerves, sir.”

“Seraphina…” he breathed, and as he straightened getting closer to me, I pushed my hands on his shoulders. He was trying to catch my eyes, but my gaze averted to the floor. 

“You’re crazy, you know!” I raised my voice, breath shaking as I felt his arms circle me. “You … you keep doing this… this back and forth. I’m pretty sure you will be jumping back as soon as things get too real, and you can’t do that.” I rambled, failing to notice his eyes on me. “Would you do this? Be mid-fucking and then pull back telling me to keep my-uh–” my voice trailed off as I felt his lips below my jaw. I gasped, fingers clutching his cold shirt. 

His lips were hot, making me flush red. His beard tickled the delicate skin of my neck, and my breath came out broken, as he pulled back. My eyes slipped to his, and before I could think it through I slapped his chest, wet clench echoing in the quiet dining room. 

“You cannot do this. You have no right to kiss my neck like that, to hold me like… It makes me feel pathetic…” I whimpered and his hand slipped up, his long fingers wrapped around mine. 

“Should I get on my knees again… confess you more of my thoughts? Would that make you feel less pathetic?” he asked, his eyes drenched in lust and tenderness. I wanted to push him back, but he held me securely, tight. 

“I told you, John… Don’t play with me… I told you I’m not…” 

“You told me you were sensitive…” his hand slipped to my jaw, my cheek and I pressed into it, his palm now hot that it dried. His cologne, although dimmed, still lingering on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m a brute, Seraphina… I don’t understand half the things you talk about, but I can’t keep away… And I kept thinking time and time again, that you cursed me to be craving your presence all the goddamn time…”

“Don’t say things like that…” I breathed, my fingers spreading on his chest, pushing him a bit, shaking my head. “You should… go, take a shower… you’ll catch a cold.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Then to sober up.” 

“I’m sober enough,” he talked back.

“Then to give me some peace,” I looked desperately into his eyes, wanting to be close to him, yet anxiety eating away my chest, scared of getting hurt again. 

And his blue eyes were steady, and I felt his fingers loosen. He slowly rose to his feet, and his palms slipped from around my body. 

“I can go…” 

“No.” Word slipped quickly. “No, stay… I want you here, I just… want you in clean clothes, and warm… not cold, damp and hurt…” 

That shut hum up. He looked down at me, standing too close, his usually warm body damp and cold but still in my aura. He gently nodded though, and I sighed in relief.

I managed to get him to shower. 

Although, he seemed a bit doubtful of my bathroom, the crystals, the beads instead of a real shower curtain, the big glass containers with sweet smelling soap. My bathroom was carefully curated, and I left him wondering if not only his body but his soul would get cleansed under my showerhead.

I searched for clothes… 

I had this habit – I grew out of it – of buying men's clothing… Meaning hoodies that were waaay too big, I only experimented with men's sweatpants once. It was cute, black, and I wanted a baggy silhouette. Well, it worked really, it was so baggy in fact that even with the strings drawn I had to hold it up… But… At least I had men's clothes at home, didn't I? 

And they didn’t even smell bad even though they were tucked inside a box of my old city clothes – they smelled like detergent, and oddly a bit of my perfume – the faint smell, not sure how it exactly got on them. 

I threw the big clothes to the floor, Omen lounging on my bed watching me. I sat back on my heels, and sighed as I heard him hiss. I glanced at him, then at myself.

My lashes fluttered; the white night gown I was in, looked… rough. Wet here and there, blood tainting the sides, wherever Price had touched me. 

I sighed, then changed into a knitted sweater and loose pants.

The man owed me at least a pair of gowns…

I walked to the bathroom with the dry clothes in hand, and I failed to notice that the silent hiss of the water stopped. I squatted down, dropping the folded clothes, but then the door opened. 

I froze like a deer in the headlights.

I looked up, mist twirling around him, water droplets slipping down his body. 

Goddamn. 

The towel hung low on his hip, his tummy hiding strong muscles… Still, the outline of his abs was maddeningly visible. His chest was wide, strong, hair dusting his pecks. 

However, he was full of scars… Old ones, but none the less… And then my eyes slipped up his collarbones, neck, and finalized in his eyes.

He was scowling, and I almost jumped.

I coughed, grasping the clothes, straightening up quickly, trying my hardest to keep my eyes on his and not on his body.  

“Here,” I cleared my throat, and reached the clothes towards him. “They might be a tight fit, but I think they’ll be your size...”

For a second he stared at me, then at the clothes in my extended arms. He folded his thick, veiny arms, glistening from the water.

“I’m not wearing your lame city ex-boyfriend’s clothes.” he spat, and my eyes widened. 

What an asshole. Rude. The audacity.

My eyes turned dark, and before I could think, my mouth was faster. 

“These are my clothes since I’ve never had a boyfriend,” I slammed the clothes into his chest, soft material drinking the water from his chest, as one of his hands grasped the dark materials. “You ungrateful fu…” 

I mumbled the last word as I was already dashing away, down the stairs leaving the rude man standing in a towel in my house. 

Needless to say, I was fuming. 

Price was a rude man! At least, he could get my blood pressure from perfectly healthy to hypertension in mere seconds. 

I was still tense, jaw set when he found me in the kitchen. 

Fully dressed. The hoodie seemed to strain on his arms, but the sweats were a bit loose even on him, just a tiny bit, making me wonder what I was thinking when I bought a pair of pants that big… 

“So, no boyfriend?” he asked leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, making the hoodie stretch over his big muscles. 

“Why are you hung up on that?” I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the two mugs in front of me, then reaching for the kettle. “Why don’t you ask me why did I call you an ‘ungrateful fuck’?” I asked filling the kettle with water. And he chuckled. 

Actually chuckled. 

“Because that part seems plausible,” he shook his head as I clicked the container to its place. “You never having a boyfriend, less likely” 

“I dated around, so you can still call me a whore,” I crossed my arms and leaned against my counter, finally turning and eyeing him. He looked maddeningly good, and casual. His head tilted against the top of the frame, blue eyes more sober than before, still a bit – very –  tired. 

“You don’t seem to understand how your body affects men,” he shook his head and my brow dashed to the middle of my forehead. 

“First of all, I’m 26, Price. I am plenty aware how my body affects men, I had to live in this goddamn body,” I huffed, scrunching my nose at the condescending tone. “Second of all, stop patronizing me, you are not that much older, wiser than me, you don’t know half of my life.” 

“Don’t have to get all defensive,” he smirked and I flushed red. 

“You are insufferable,” I shook my head, the kettle hissing behind me. “The only reason you are still here, because I don’t trust you driving…” 

“You’ve never had a boyfriend…” he said again, ignoring whatever I was talking about. 

“I’m not naive, Price, I know my ways…” I glared at him, jaw clenching. 

“You’re almost thirty,” he said and my brow cocked. 

“And you’re almost forty.” I snapped back at him, and he winced. I turned my back to him, grabbing the kettle, pouring the hot water into the mugs.

“Sorry, it’s not what I meant… I mean… It’s just hard to believe that a woman like you could not get–” 

“It’s not about could, Price,” I looked at him from over my shoulder, then shaking my head, turning away completely. “I cannot handle people touching me. It makes me want to crawl at my skin…”

“You did not seem to crawl at your skin when I kissed you,” he said and I fell quite. 

The room fell quiet, and I placed the kettle back down, chewing on my lips. Although,  after a few seconds,  his steps filled the room. And before I knew it, his arms wrapped around me. 

“Do you feel like crawling?” His deep voice filled my head, warm breath tickling my ear.

“Only to gauge your eyes out,” I mumbled and he actually chuckled, tuning his face so his lips grazed my neck. 

Was he actually deranged? Laughing at something like that…

I fell silent, and I felt him move my hair, exposing my neck and I inadvertently moved my head to a tilt. His lips grazed my skin, and I heard him huff. 

“Aren’t you a tad bit touch starved?” he asked, amusement hinting in his tone.

“Says the man who keeps touching me since he passed my threshold,” growled at him. 

“I have to… I am compelled,” he mumbled. 

The word choice made my back stiffen, and I shifted around his arms. He looked down at me calmly, and let me push him a bit back, placing a hand on his chest. 

“I didn’t curse you, you know that, right?” my brows knotted, looking straight into his blue irises. He gently pushed my hair back, exposing my neck fully, my bare shoulder, and the back of his hand caressed my skin, as if he enjoyed the softness of it. 

“I am a man of reason, Seraphina… But ever since you moved to town… Things kept happening I just cannot explain…” he said mysteriously, and I raised my brow. My silence coaxed him to elaborate. “Like… Dreams…” he mumbled and my face flushed red.

Because just as he said that, the memories… The memories of him above me one rainy night flushed before my eyes, and I could not help but wonder… 

Did he see dreams like that too? 

“Multiple?” I tried to tease, trying to hit away my flustered state with humor. 

“Hm, don’t be a brat now,” he tilted my chin back and my breathing hitched. His fingers slipped over my lips, and I looked up at him. But then I grabbed his wrist. 

“What are we doing?” I asked, shaking my head, breaking the spell. He stared at me, then lowered his head, letting his forehead fall into my neck. 

“I’d like to hold onto you.. if you’d give me the chance.” His breath was warm against my collarbone. 

Big man, hunched over, big arms circling me. I blinked rapidly, but I placed my hand on the back of his neck, gently caressing him. 

Why? 

Because it felt right? 

Because I had no self-respect? 

His breath shuddered as my fingers slipped up into his hair, and he held onto me tighter. 

“You could stay, John…” I breathed out, voice soft, barely audible in the darkness. “Let’s drink some tea… It’ll help you with your, um, insomnia.”

He moved slowly, his heavy, deep exhaustion sweeping into my body. A gentle whisper left my lips, “Come on, John…” his eyes finally met mine. I held my hand on his cheek, as he was still holding onto me. I let myself smile a little. 

For the first time since I moved to Briar Hollow, he looked human. 

Not a strong, imposing military man, or the law enforcement. 

But human. With vulnerabilities, with real emotions finally showing on his face. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked gently, as I handed him his tea. His eyes snapped from the mug to my jade gaze. 

I blinked up at him, and he breathed. 

“No… Not tonight,” 

“Alright,” I nodded and ever so gently pulled on his hoodie’s sleeve. And he followed without much thinking. 

We settled on the couch, but truth to be told, I sat a bit farther from him… knowing he’d be sobering… I could not help but think, he’d be back to rude sheriff mode once he is well-rested and sober. 

We sipped our tea in silence.

The house creaked, the tv murmured in the background. The storm was still raging outside, and I kept glancing at the man who, like a medicine, drank that tea. 

I stared in front of me, trying to place my thoughts about the night together… It’s just. So much happened. Could not really comprehend. Half of what he said was loud, half was slipping away or unclear, and I wanted him to specify, but… I dare not to ask. 

“Am I that scary?” I heard his voice and my eyes snapped up to his. 

“What?” I blinked rapidly as he placed his mug down. 

“You’re… far,” he groaned and my eyes grew wide as he moved, and my mug was removed from my hand, and before I could do anything, a hand on my ankle pulled me closer to him, making me yelp quietly in surprise. 

“Sheriff, I–” I looked up, only to meet those icy blues. My breath caught in my throat. 

“Sheriff, huh?” his other hand came up to my face, and to my surprise, he put a lock behind my ear, his eyes looking at me with such gentleness, I could not stand it. 

I blinked away, tucking my chin, as I felt his warm breath on my temple. 

“You have to drink it all, John… For it to work… Drink your tea, then let me show you to your room…” My voice was quiet, soft. His hand still rested on my ankle, like a heavy chain, only warmer… 

“Alright, Ms. Seraphina,” he said and I pulled a little back to glare at him. 

“Drop the miss, sheriff,” my eyes landed on him, and his eyes crinkled. 

“As you wish… Never would’ve thought that’d I’d be listening to a witch,” 

“Hey!” I slapped his arm as he chuckled. Damn, his mood swings. 

“I thought you were a witch, it’s only fair. Aren’t you one, Seraphina?” he said my name, making something warm twist in my chest. He was so close… His scent mixing with the tea, and my perfume on him… My chest rose heavy as my fingers absentmindedly played with my necklace, rubbing my collarbones nervously. 

His eyes dropped, and before I could come up with an answer – because judge me… I was on high alert when the sheriff was sitting in my house, still wanting to confirm if I was a witch or not. 

Then I felt it. 

His big, warm hand gently touched mine, then wrapped around it completely. The gauze scratched my skin, as he pulled my hand off my chest, and I stared up at him. 

“Do I make you this nervous?” 

“You’re so full of yourself,” I barked back but instead of getting angry, he smirked. 

“Comes with the job…” 

“You are… you are so…” my face was getting redder and redder, and he just tilted his head and to my mortification, he kissed my hand, drowning the bubbling words on my lips. 

“I’m sure you can come up with new ways to insult me, love.”

“Shut up, Jesus!” I pressed my other hand over my lips, cheeks darkening red, looking to the side. And he chuckled. 

“I apologize,” he gently caressed my leg then I looked at him

“You’re cruel,” I breathed. 

“That I am.” 

“A brute.” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“And you’re annoying too.” I added. 

“You’re running out of insults…” he huffed gently.

“I have a long list for you,” I squinted my eyes. 

“Good, then you can keep me grounded for a long time…” he smiled and my lashes fluttered. 

“Why? Would you like that?” I blinked at him confused.

“Would I like what?” 

“Being around me for a long time?” I asked looking straight into his eyes, and for a second he did not move, his eyes resting on mines. 

“It would be my personal hell,” he said as he slipped his big hand on my cheek. My breathing shuddered, as he let his head tilt to the side, his eyes slipping to my lips then back to my eyes. “And absolute heaven on Earth.” 

“Liar…” I mumbled, and he let himself smile. 

“That I am…” he said then before he’d let himself kiss me he moved, and his lips landed on my forehead. “I would never lie to you…” 

“I hate you,” my fingers twisted into his shirt. 

“No, you don’t,” he smiled against my cheek, that he was pressing another kiss onto. 

“What if I do?” I asked quietly and he pulled back just a little, but I did not dare to meet his eyes. 

“Then you’ll probably hex me after this,” he smiled, and his warm lips landed on mines. 

My heart jumped against my ribcage – not that it was much calmer before – and my eyes shut tight as I felt his lips move on mines. It was sweet, slow, his hands moving around me, pulling me closer, ever so gently… 

But most of all, it was quick. He pulled back, before I could lose myself in that kiss. 

“What’s the verdict?” he tipped my head back so I’d look him in the eye. And he seemed so calm, his touch so warm, his closeness calming my always high-strung nervous-system. I looked him dead in the eye, voice betraying me with softness: 

“I still hate you.”

“It’ll pass,” he smiled, rubbing my cheek. 

“Asshole,” I breathed, falling into his chest as he pulled me closer. 

“Such a foul mouth…” he adjusted my legs over his lap, and he wrapped his long arms around me, moving me as if I was a ragdoll. I slapped his chest – not hard, just enough to feel my anger… “We’ll work on that later.” 

“You’re so condescending, God.” I scoffed, but still… I settled into his embrace. 

“You can lecture me about that later on,” he pressed a soft kiss onto my temple, and his chin rested on top of my head. 

Hated him… 

Yet, I buried my face into his chest… 

And right before I fell asleep, my fingers dug into his sweater. I needed confirmation he was real. His warmth, his heartbeat underneath my ear was just merely enough. 

Still, him holding onto me... The whole scene was just utterly surreal.

Um, hi there, :) Thank you so much for reading. It was certainly an all over the place chapter, but I needed the catalyst lol. Anyways, love ya all. As always, thank you so much for the messages and the support. Have a Merry Christmas, loves! See you, hopefully very soon... xo S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 19]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: consuming alcohol, description of mildly s'xual nature, occult, touching, cursing, emotional damage, hearing voices and stuff, age gap, slow burn - i'm still shitty at this warning thing, ain't i... hii, i'm back for a brief moment. been so grateful to hear from you, truly warmed my heart how kind you guys were. so, here's chapter 19, hopefully it'll make up for the lost time... but chapter 20 is the real treat... anyways, enjoy :))

It Was a Mistake

I didn’t exactly forget about the promise.

It was just a busy day. A Friday, to be exact… and I had to get many, many things done – finishing up orders, taking them to Lindy, also got multiple calls from the city (from Sam, and some men from my publisher, etc.). I was also baking through most of the afternoon to take things to Rosa and the precinct, while cleaning my house, readying it for a Venus ritual.

So, when I was finally winding down, skin smelling like exotic flowers, body covered in black silk, tongue tasting the bitter tang of a pink-colored gin and tonic… I did not exactly think of him.

I collapsed into my armchair, legs crossed, breathing in the calm energy of the room. All my candles were burning, making the room smell delicious – the scent of cooling brownies also helped with the atmosphere – and when Omen jumped and laid out on my lap, I finally felt my muscles relaxing.

Well, until that god-awful doorbell rang, screaming, waking the spirits from their peaceful slumber.

And as my muscles jumped, something in my mind clicked too. I fucking forgot about Price.

I slipped the crystal glass down onto my coffee table, then, despite Omen’s accusing eyes, I moved him to the floor. My bare feet padded across the creaky floorboards, silk swishing around me, although I was hastily wrapping myself in it, not wanting to flash the sheriff in my rather, um, provocative nightgown…

My fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and as the door opened, the cold autumn air ushered in, making all my candles flicker. My chin tilted back, and my eyes met with the tall man’s blues. He oozed calm energy, grounded authority. He looked like a man arriving to a Bible study group – proper, dark blue sweater straining against his arms, loose jeans on his thick legs, and boots. His beard, as always, perfectly trimmed, his hair a bit messy from the wind… Although, in his hand he did not have a Bible – just a few case files and an occult book.

What a vision, really…

I failed to say anything, and his eyes assessed the situation as quickly as you’d expect a military man to assess a place he plans on infiltrating. For a second, his eyes slipped down to my neck, then behind me, only for the blues to meet my jade irises again.

“Did I come at a wrong time, Ms. Barlow?” he asked, his lips twitching slightly, and I glared at him. I pulled my robe tighter in front of me, crossing my arms, eyes hardening a bit.

“You have to stop calling me Ms. Barlow. I cannot teach you like that.” I shook my head, red locks spilling forward over my shoulder.

“Is that non-negotiable?” His lips twitched, as if to hold back a smile, and I matched his energy.

“It is,” I nodded seriously.

“Well, alright then.” He let the corner of his mouth rise into a smirk. “Ms. Seraphina, then. Your house, your rules.” He sighed, his eyes softening for just a second, and I actually giggled.

“Come in,” I shook my head, opening the door wider and walking a bit back to let him in. “Sorry for… well, the witchy stuff. I forgot we agreed on tonight.” I shook my head, beating myself up mentally.

“I can come another time–”

“No, no, please come in. Make yourself comfortable… I’ll just go change into, um, clothes,” I sighed, and I was already walking up the stairs when I heard him close the door.

It was weird. I felt calm as I dug through my clothes, and I too settled on something comfortable – loose, flowy pants and a big knitted sweater. It was easy, nothing much, but it exposed my shoulder and the lace of my bralette. I did not want to be “too much,” but I also did not want to disrespect my guest by turning up to our lesson in a freaking lingerie set.

“I don’t think he’d mind,” a voice arrived, and I gasped, almost throwing the phone across the room.

A gush of wind danced around me, sending a shiver down my back. I walked to the window and almost slammed it shut. I placed my hands on the sill and let the air flow slowly out of my lungs.

The voices… the voices were becoming too loud.

I walked back down, pulling my hair back, twisting it up into a bun with a little claw in it, and I found Price standing in my living room. His occult book in his hand, brows drawn together, looking at the sigils painted in a circle on the floor. The stairs creaked, and he looked up at me, suspicion sitting in his eyes.

I stopped, lip quirking.

I could hear his thoughts.

His blue eyes dark, wondering just how deep I was in this whole occult stuff. Because yeah, people were talking about satanic rituals, and I was reading tarot and stuff. But a pentagram surrounded by strange symbols in my living room? Yeah, that might catch a few people off guard.

“What? Just because I practice magic does not mean I’m your killer,” I said, my bare feet landing on the floor as I walked toward him slowly, my hip moving like Omen’s – he was a diva.

I stopped beside my coffee table and bent down.

“These look too… similar,” his deep voice said. It made my tummy flutter, although I tried to hide my contentment behind my gin glass.

“Well, these are Wiccan symbols. Many people use them.” I mumbled, placing my lips on the rim of the crystal and taking a small sip of gin to calm my nerves a bit. I mean, spirits could judge me, but when a six-foot-something man with muscles and an aura like his was standing in my private space… let’s just say, it made me a tad bit nervous.

We both stared at the circle on the floor. The candles painted everything in a light orange hue, and my perfume mixed into the sweet-smelling air.

Then I shook myself. What a horrible host I was!

“Sit. Do you want a drink?” I asked, and his blue eyes darted at me with a confused glint. But I just smiled, tilting my head softly to the side. “Come on, it’s not like you’re on duty, Sheriff,” I taunted him a bit, placing down my glass, averting my eyes.

I could not really read him. And what the past few months taught me – it was not worth the effort to read him, because, as Rosa said, his wires were twisted a bit. He always had a reason – usually a good reason – for doing things a certain way, but he failed to communicate that.

I looked at him with a raised brow as I straightened back up, but then he nodded.

“Okay, what do you have?” he asked, and my lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“Wine, gin, whiskey, beer… but you seem like a whiskey guy,” I said as I was already moving toward my kitchen.

“Whiskey sounds great,” he said, and he was again a bit closed off, but I did not mind. I left him in my living room, and went to prepare his drink. He was there on a favor, really… so, I did not even pretend to be decent. I was human. A grown woman. And it was Friday night… I had a life. So even though I felt a bit judged by him, I forced myself to not dim my light. 

For a while, I sat on the floor, studying the pictures he brought. He was on the couch, sipping his whiskey slowly, and I searched for the runes in my nana’s books. I felt him glance at me from time to time, as he too was deep in a book… I did not comment.

“Here, another one…” I pointed in the book and spoke softly as I pushed it across the coffee table. I got on my knees, and as he leaned forward, I pointed at the rune on the page with my red nail. His big hand plastered beside the book, and as his eyes were on the text, mine were studying his long fingers. My lashes fluttered -- the size difference between our hands was baffling.

I bit my lip, wondering if I should ask or not, but the whispers pushed me. “Listen, Sheriff…” I cleared my throat, and he looked at me.

Our faces were not really far apart as we were both leaning over the same book. “Were the, um, bodies arranged in… any position?” I asked, my eyes meeting his. His blue irises hardened, jaw ticked. The hesitation, the all-consuming silence for seconds was the answer, and I huffed.

I smiled, then pushed my hands on my knees and slowly got up. The floorboards popped gently underneath my bare feet as I walked to the bookshelf. My fingers danced over the spines of the books, searching for one, as I heard his glass gently clink against the wood of the table. I pulled the book that was almost pushed against my palm… The spine cracked loudly from not being opened for approximately forty years at least, and my fingers gently pushed the pages as I walked back next to him.

He straightened himself on the couch, his cologne shifting in the air as my fingers stopped. The air stilled, as if he was waiting to see what I was doing, then I just turned the whole book to him, my hands straining a bit as I held it.

“Was this one of the positions?” I showed him, and his eyes looked at the drawn male body in the negative Týr position. He did not show any emotions for a while; he just stared. Then he slowly lifted his blues to me, orange hue tinting his skin. I tilted my head, waiting for the answer.

“It was,” he breathed, as if it pained him to say so, but I did not stop.

“Was this the second or the third body?” I heard my voice ring out calmly in my quiet living room.

“The third,” he answered, shifting, leaning forward, reaching for his whiskey, taking a generous sip. I watched him -- his long legs spread, his jaw ticking, his dark lashes lowering… I had the feeling the drawing wasn’t the only reason he would not meet my eyes.

I lowered myself beside him, space still between us, but his eyes, for a split second, seemed surprised. I was biting my lip, eyes strictly on the page as I sat halfway -- one leg bent on the couch, the other set on the floor.

“You don’t have to tell me more about your case…” I said, lowering the book onto my lap, looking up at him. His dark blue eyes were dead set on me, as if he was observing, studying me, trying to solve me as if I were some sort of enigma… I swallowed, but let a small smile slip from my lips. “But I think this book will help you a lot…”

“Okay,” he nodded, and he moved, sliding a bit closer to me, shifting the book that now sat on both of our legs. His fingers brushed my calf –  barely, just a shift of the book –  but it was enough. My breath stuttered, heat coiling low in my stomach. I told myself it was the gin, or the candles, or the hour, but my body didn’t buy the excuse.

“Then tell me… what are these?” he breathed, and I did not dare to look up.

He was too close. I could feel his cologne clear as day, his body pushing heat as if he were a furnace. I moved a little, and my knee pushed against his thigh, trying to find a comfortable position. And I ignored the hot feeling in my cheeks –  once again, I blamed it on the gin I’d consumed.

“It’s not exactly ancient magic, per se… These are Armanen Runes…” I explained slowly, rolling my eyes softly. “Based on some dude’s fantasy and real ancient Germanic symbols from, ugh, maybe 700 AD? It is still valid, I guess, but like… they are not that old.” I glanced at him, as his blue eyes shifted from the book to me. God… his eyes were just beautiful -- intelligent, sharp.

I smirked a little and turned my head back to the page. “They were created at the beginning of the 20th century, when occultism once again started to interest people… But, um, anyways, this might help make sense. Maybe there is a hidden message in how the bodies have been arranged -- what sort of symbols were, um, on them.” I said and looked back up at him, and he just watched me.

“I thought you said those runes were Wiccan,” his voice was gravel, tilting his head a bit, pointing at the symbols on my floor with his chin.

“The ones on my floor? Yeah, because those are Wiccan.” I pulled another book closer, my leg now pressing more into his as I moved. He did not pull away, but i felt him stiffen as I straightened back up with the volume. I flipped some pages and showed him the thirteen runes I used. I smiled at him gently. “See? Different.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can see that…” he sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was pretty late.

“Overwhelmed, Sheriff? I did not even mention the symbols Voodoo practitioners use.” I giggled, placing the books back on the table, creating a bit of distance as I got up a little to grab my glass of gin.

“This occultism… all my questions are answered with ‘it depends’.” He too grabbed his whiskey.

“Because it’s not a centralized religion… and there are many traditions and practices all over the globe. And some are on a personal path -- eclectic witches, for example, can borrow from multiple cultures, whatever feels authentic for them.”

“It sounds like bullshit,” he grunted, and I chuckled.

“You don’t have to practice any of it; you can just believe in God. But, you know, many believe in God and practice their religions very differently.” I sipped my drink, and he leaned back, his head tipping back, exposing his neck completely as he sighed.

“I guess you’re right…” His eyes were planted on my ceiling, and I could tell he was tired. I studied his perfect face… It seemed he had a lot on his mind, but he looked good carrying the weight of responsibilities on him. Too good.

“You know, Sheriff,” I breathed, and his eyes shifted to me. “You can take these books with you for your investigation. We’ve been at it for, like, what, two hours? You don’t have to push yourself much further tonight.”

“You’re awfully caring, Ms. Bar–”

I raised my brow, and he followed my motion. “I thought we agreed.”

“You keep calling me Sheriff; it’s only fair.”

I bit my lip and let a small smile slip.

“Okay, well… John.” His name felt strange on my tongue – heavier, more personal. “How about a refill? I can help you decipher the meanings further.” My fingers brushed his glass as I took it, and for a second neither of us moved. His eyes flicked to mine, and the air seemed to tilt between us. I swallowed, and tried to break the tension with humor.  “I’m rather good at analyzing art.”

“You mean tarot cards,” he pulled his brows together.

“No, I mean art, pictures, runes, symbolism. This is what I studied at university.” I straightened with his glass, my gaze already moving toward the door, but I caught his eyes dropping to my form, just for a brief second.

“They teach occultism at university?” I heard him ask behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. 

“They teach Art History,” I let a cheeky smile appear on my lips, and I beamed at him. Then before he could react, I went to refill our glasses. 

When I was back, I sat beside him on the couch, and it was easier to talk. I showed him pictures, and he showed me a few photos from the crime scenes -- symbols carved into the ground, the trees... He only shown pictures that were drawn after the real deal when it came to the bodies. I guess, he did not want to traumatize me.

It was easy talking to him. He was listening to me, asking thoughtful questions. And when he was the one talking, it was just nice… listening to his deep voice, sipping our drinks. He shared some things about the case – well, not in detail… It felt as if he was protecting me from something… but he was at least mildly open. And at some point our conversation turned into something more casual. 

Not about the case anymore, just talking.

He watched me, leaning back on my couch, one hand holding his whiskey on his thigh, his other arm extended on the back of my couch, two fingers pressing into his temple as I talked about the Tarot cards. 

“See? Symbolism. The colors speak volumes. But the basics are swords, cups, coins, and wands – air, water, earth, and fire. Well, whatever order, but you know.”

“You really believe in all this?” his blue eyes watching my hands shuffle the card back into the deck, his lips twitching into a smile.

“I’ve experienced some things that make me a believer, yes.” I placed the deck down with a small smile, and reaching for my glass.

“Read for me. Maybe you’ll turn me into one.”

“Negative,” I said, mimicking his military tone. He smirked, and I continued without thinking. “I don’t read for people who are too close to me.”

“Oh, so we’re that close?” he reacted immediately, his words deep, wrapped in that strange accent of his. My lashes fluttered, biting my lip, trying to drown myself in my drink. 

“Let me rephrase: I don’t read for people I feel strongly about. Emotions can alter the outcomes.” I averted my gaze, but he seemed amused. I heard him scoff, small smirk playing on his lips as the whiskey shifted in his glass.

“So, you feel strongly about me?” he teased, raising a brow.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Feelings can be positive or negative.” I glared at him, but he looked entertained.

“Alright.” He sipped his whiskey, eyes drifting to my drawings on the floor. “What kind of ritual did I interrupt, anyway?”

“It’s Friday.” I said as if it would explain everything. He raised his brow, and I continued. “Day of Venus. It was supposed to be an Aphrodite ritual.”

“So… love?” 

“That’s the only thing you remember from ninth-grade Greek lit?” 

“Don’t be rude,” he mumbled with a smirk against his glass.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Yeah, love. Self-love, beauty, lust…” I took a sip of gin, and his brow twitched at the last word.

“That explains the skimpy outfit,” he said, referring to the nightgown I’d opened the door in.

“You always insult how I dress, Price, yet you'd kissed me,” I said before I could stop myself.

The air froze in the room. 

I glared in front of me, blinking slowly. 

Fuck.

He didn’t move. I did not dare to breathe. The candles flickered in a low, warning orange, and I slowly let my glass down to my lap.

“So–” I started to mumble an apology but he spoke. 

“It was a mistake.”

My heart dropped. I stared into my glass, watching the ice melt.

Oh.

Oh… 

“I shouldn’t have done that. You were upset, and I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” I interrupted quickly. “It’s whatever. You don’t want your neat little rules messed up by some free-spirited hippie girl.” I forced a smile meeting his eyes and I stood. “Another round?”

“Seraphina– ” I heard him get up, but I was already moving towards the kitchen.

The glass was cold in my hand, eyes darting to the fridge. The light briefly illuminated the dark room, then after I grabbed the bottle, let me slip back into the midnight blue. I tried to act calm… Nonchalant, if you will. Just pouring a generous amount of liquid into the crystal.

I heard his steps. He was big, much heavier than me, so the house echoed his movement. His presence was pulling in gravity, burning around me like a spirit I could not banish from my home. 

“It’s not what I meant,” he said behind me, his voice deep. If I didn’t know him better, I would have said he was hesitating. 

“You don’t have to come up with excuses, John. It’s fine.” I put the lid back on the alcohol. I tried to sound airy, light, casual… Play that his words did not affect me.  But... it was hard to swallow all the sorrow that was closing my at my throat. “You don’t like me, I get it. It’s just confusing – your hot and cold thing.”

“Maybe we should talk about this another time… with less alcohol in our system.” He offered as I turned, his big hand rubbing the back of his neck, arms flexing, his sweater shifting just enough to show a bit of skin in the darkness.

“I’m not drunk.” I shook my head, a pained smirk playing on my lip as my hip leaned against my counter. “And you’re not even tipsy. I mean, look at you – your size, the amount of whiskey you’ve had? Nothing.”

“Oh really? And how about you?” He moved closer, hand closing over mine as I lifted the glass. My heart jumped violently against my ribcage. His blue eyes found mines, icey shards searching the jade stones. “Small woman drinking this much gin…”

“You’re patronizing again.” My lips pursed, though my heart beat fast as he gently took the glass from my hand, fingers brushing against mine, burning my skin.

“I never meant to patronize you.” He said as I heard him place the glass on the counter behind me.

“Sure, John.” I rolled my eyes. To my surprise, he reached up and took my jaw between his fingers. My eyes widened, lips parting unintentionally.

“Now, Seraphina,” he murmured, voice low and deliberate. Almost dangerous, as his warm hand guided my head backward, grip tight but not bruising, forcing me to look him in his eyes. His face was shadowed, his jaw line ticking a bit before he spoke. “This eye-rolling habit of yours is really testing my patience. I thought we were both adults here, having a grown-up conversation.”

His voice vibrated in my chest. My fingers curled into his sweater without thinking. His eyes darkened, focused.

“You’re the one forcing me into a child’s position,” I breathed, mouth drying as I felt his body in my aura. “Again.” I added, voice dying.

“Wasn’t my intention.” He smirked. I scoffed, but my eyes flicked to his lips.

“Liar,” I breathed.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing the corner of my jaw –  so light it might’ve been an accident.

“Liar, huh?” he whispered. Voice so deep, so dangerously low, it sent shivers down my spine, my knuckles turned white on the side of the counter I was grabbing at for stability. 

I swallowed. “You tell me.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. His breath was warm against my skin, his body heat rolling over me. He was too close, he knew that, his body pressing into mine, letting me feel every inch of him. And his eyes kept flickering to my lips as he was towering above me. I could smell his cologne, feel his shirt shift under my fingers.

Then he blinked, jaw tightening, and stepped back, turning his head away. The sudden distance felt like a door slamming. 

Instant rejection pouring at my body like ice cold water. 

“You should get some sleep,” he said, voice rough but measured.

I crossed my arms, hiding the shiver that ran through me. What was his deal really? He kept doing that, come closer then leave me alone.

But I said nothing about that, just scoffed.

“Right. Sheriff’s orders.”

“Just – ” he hesitated, eyes scanning my face “--don’t do any more rituals tonight, alright?”

“Sure. Whatever the man wants.” I rolled my eyes and walked past him, shoulder inadvertently brushing past his arm. “So, you’re needing the books?” I asked as I cleared my throat. 

My steps were brisk, not running, per say, but quick. Acting as if nothing happened a few seconds ago. I was leaning forward, gathering the volumes that might help with his case. I felt him come back into the room behind me as I straightened. He was close, but I didn’t turn.

“I can lend you some other books too, maybe they’ll help. Just let me-” I wanted to move towards the bookshelf, but he stopped me. 

His big, rough hand landed on my waist, turning me before I could finish. His other hand found the back of my neck, fingers slipping on my warm skin then up into my hair, and then his lips were on mine -- warm, steady, and sure.

I shut my eyes, letting him pull me closer, my chest pressing into his as one of my arms held the books, and my other pressed on his shoulder. His hand slid around my waist, holding me tighter as his other hand guided my head. 

And I hated him, but I kissed him back. 

His beard scratched my face, I could still taste the whiskey on his tongue. And he wasn’t violent, but he was domineering, dictating the head-spinning tempo of our movements, slipping his tongue gently through my lips as if he had the right to do so.

My breathing hitched, and a small whimper escaped my lips as he ever so slightly bit my lower one, only to be back deeper, making my head spin... And I was grateful for his tight arms around me, because my legs were barely able to hold me.

But then, I pushed him back. 

Gently, deliberately, and he moved without fighting, still remaining close, holding me tight. 

“You said we shoudn’t…” I whispered onto his lip, and his breath was mingling with mine. 

“Not that I don’t want to…” he said and I looked up at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and as my jade gaze slipped between them my heart clenched. I pressed my lips together, and shook my head.

“You were right,” I murmured. “Maybe you should go.”

I stepped back, cheeks warm. He tilted his head, but I pressed the books to his chest. “I don’t play games, John. I’m too sensitive for that.” I almost whispered.

He took the books, eyes flicking over my face as I folded my arms around myself.

“If you have questions, just ask me.” I said quietly, avoiding his eyes, walking to the door.

He followed, stopping in the doorway, clearly wrestling with something.

The cold air pushed any remaining warmness away, the candles, the alcohol, the memory of his touch. 

Only the ice remained, solidifying around my heart. 

“Seraphina, I…” he began, but didn’t finish. Our eyes met. He was trying to study me, understand me, his big body leaning, arm almost reaching to touch me, but he stopped himself.

“Everything’s fine, Sheriff,” I said softly, a small smile slipped on my lips. “See you tomorrow?”

My voice was soft, casual. Mouth moved as if his tongue was not deep between my lips just minutes ago.

And he nodded, albeit confused. 

“Will do. Good night, Ms. Seraphina.” He nodded, his voice deep and his steps creaked on my porch. 

I watched his tall body walk down the little garden path, until my fence. One hand held the books, they seemed small in his grasp, and his other hand raked through his hair almost in a frustrated manner… 

I was sure he was confused as to what happened. 

I was confused… 

But I knew… We were past the point of no return.

Because the house creaked loudly as I closed the door, the flames flickered violently, and Omen finally appeared looking at me with all-knowing eyes. 

And the whispers…

The whispers were telling me something I did not want to hear.

----------

Hey there :)) Thank you so much for reading. It was a bit shorter than usual, but you know... working on the next chapter for you guys! Also, once again many thanks, hugs and kisses; your comments, reposts, kind messages really brightened my pretty bleak days. Until next time! Many, many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 18]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: i curse... a lot, bit abuse of power, mention of past violence, mention of occult, some dark humor, slow burn -- we're slowly getting there, age gap, otherwise rather fluffy?? on this week's episode of bullshit... this is a longer chapter, trying to pay you back for the emotional damage caused by ch17 - i read it back btw and i hate it lol. anyway, i have to work so i'm giving you this fair warning that ch19 will take longer to post, i'm sorry... but until then, hope you'll enjoyyy this part :)

The Clumsy Protector

Ms. Dotti’s café was relatively quiet that Saturday morning. 

The rain was still falling heavily, but the violent wind subdued. Nothing like the storm two days prior… 

“He did what?” Rosa stared at me, almost pushing her mug off the table. 

“He grabbed me,” I explained, shaking my head, hands extended in front of me, trying to remember how he did it. “And he dropped me on the counter, then he… kissed me… again…” 

“Again?” she screamed and I had to shush her. 

We were sitting in the back, and since there were not many customers, we could discuss the whole thing in peace. 

“And then he pulled back, told me to stay the fuck away from him and stormed off… So now I’m avoiding him.” I bit my lip as she blinked rapidly. 

“So, this is why we could not go to the diner?” 

“Yeah… Sorry.” 

“Don’t be silly, Phina, jeez… This is a lot.” Rosa sighed and rubbed her cheeks. I nodded, twirling my coffee. 

“And you know what's worse?” I gestured with my hands, failing to notice that the spoon kept twirling, then I quickly grabbed it. “Like… I cannot make sense of it… I know you like him, Rosa, but he has some serious issues around emotions.” 

“I’m well aware,” she was holding her mug with both hands. “Kyle told me that the whole squad was teasing him, trying to get him to be kinder to you… because like, they knew he liked you,” she chuckled and my lashes fluttered. “Goddamn, you have to be blind to not see it.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it’s about blindness, it’s hard to see love under all those insults…” 

“He was worried about you,” Rosa rubbed her collarbone and I raised my brow. “All those harsh things he’d say… I think he wanted to protect you… well, with some of them.” She smiled at me and I just shook my head, averting my gaze, but she continued.

“You have to ask him about all the other things, because listen, I love my ex-military husband but his wires are twisted up,” she played with a napkin, an amused smile spreading across her lips, her eyes fixed on her fingers. “What makes sense to him, makes no sense to me, at all.” She sipped her hot drink and I stared in front of me. 

“I think I’m done with him… He only sees me as a child anyway based on how he treats me.” I shook my head and Rosa smirked. 

“He most definitely did not look at you as a child when you walked around in your little dresses all summer.” 

“Who’s side are you on, really?” My brows cocked, trying to hide my flustered face.

 “Honeybee, there are no sides. There are only dumb and dumber, who communicate like pre-teens.” she said and I could not help but laugh. I planted my head in my hand and sighed. 

“I bet he’s a fucking Capricorn…” 

“He does not like his birthday either,” Rosa smirked. “But he has it in January.” 

“Splendid, of course he does,” I rolled my eyes. 

“You two are more alike than you know… And I know he’s an idiot, we all know. But you should really give him a chance… He’s a good man.” Rosa’s eyes bored into mine, and I knew she was right. But it was so hard to accept him like that… 

She hid a smirk then she asked cheekily. “Is he a good kisser?” 

“Rosa!” I turned bright red, stumbling over my words, huffing, but as I looked to the side I added. “He is…” I mumbled and she laughed. 

“Ah, knew it, Kyle owes me.” She shook her head and I snorted into my coffee. 

We switched the topic, and as the rain stopped we set out for a stroll around town. 

Rosa became the friend I’ve never had – of course we saw each other a lot, for fleeting moments, but we wanted to have a day. This friendship was not taken as granted, we both had our lives but we wanted to spend time with each other, have meaningful moments. So, we just had to have a girly day, where we just enjoyed each other's company and complained about men (she had a good husband but like, sometimes you gotta, duh), and how our favorite show was cancelled, and annoying Karens in town were, and how that piece of lingerie was cute but not worth the price, etc. Just silly things, trying to leave the heavy stuff behind. 

We went to a general store, got some baking supplies, scented candles and seasonal decoration which was utterly unnecessary, since Briar Hollow itself looked like a magical autumn town out of a Hallmark movie. But we bought stuff anyway… Because it was cute, and it made us laugh and feel good. 

I got a new scarf too, dark red, since I left my trusty vintage one at home… It was still just the right weather to be out in cute boots and knitted sweaters but I’ve been running rather cold lately, so I gravitated towards warmer outfits. 

Rosa offered to drive us to a cute little antique book store just at the end of main street. Nobody ever told me there was a book store like that  in town, so I was pumped! And Rosa was right, it was absolutely wonderful. 

I could not get enough. I was collecting classics and books on witchcraft and feminism. Oh, it was splendid. All the books I was looking for while I was writing my thesis were laying there, collecting dust, nobody touching them – well, except me. I was hoarding old texts like dragons hoard gold. It was bloody amazing, and the store owner let me collect the vast amount of books at the counter. Rosa just shook her head but she let me act all giddy and happy. 

I kept reading an old book, its cover faded, smelling like long lost decades. I brushed a lock behind my ear, then I felt a faint smell. Familiar. Dark, but reminding me of… 

My fingers twitched on the cover. 

“Hey, Sheriff,” I heard Rosa’s voice and I almost dropped the book. 

“Rosalinde,” his voice was soft and kind. My jaw clenched… Why couldn’t he just talk to me like that? Every interaction… Even when he was kind for a few sentences, he switched it up and his voice turned into ice cold shards. 

I kept my eyes on the ground and my knuckles turned white as I kept gripping that poor old book. I peaked from behind the tall bookshelf, catching a glimpse of the broad shoulders. I pulled back, and I quietly walked to the counter, trying to honor the Sheriff’s request: keep my distance. 

“Managed to find some more, Ms. Seraphina?” the owner smiled at me, and I nodded with a shy little smile. Not the full grin I flashed him previously. 

“Yeah, but I think I’m done… I have to leave some to come back for later,” I chuckled, grabbing my wallet from my bag. 

“I get new stuff every first week of a month,” he said and my jade eyes rested on the older man. He was turning the books around, lip twitching. “You’re interested in the occult, I see.” 

“Well, yeah… Didn’t you hear I was the town’s witch?” I asked and the man chuckled. 

“Don’t exactly socialize, Ms. Seraphina,” he shook his head as he loaded the books into brown paperbags, the creaking of paper filling the space. The smell of old books and strong coffee mixed in the air, and I listened to the man talk. “Although the Sheriff kept complaining about a young lady – he said she was a real troublemaker. Made the town folks believe that she was a devil worshipper.” 

“Oh, really?” I raised my brow and my lips twitched.

“Yes, I thought he was in love with her! He rambled on and on about how annoying she was.” he rolled his eyes and I had to bite my lips not to laugh. “He also said she was related to Helena Barlow. What a fine woman…” he reminisced as he kept pushing the numbers into his calculator. I chuckled, then he looked at me, squinted, pulling one glass off, pushing the other, hanging around his neck, on. “Oh, those eyes.” 

“Yes?” I tilted my head as he kept staring from behind the thick glasses. I found his confusion endearing. 

“What a coincidence, Helena had the exact same ones. She used to make men nervous, you know, everybody feared those eyes,” he shook his head, and I could not help but chuckle again. What a cute little old man. Then his eyes snapped back to me, as if to correct himself. “Although, rather beautiful, Ms. Seraphina! I had marbles colored like your eyes when I was just a young kid.” 

“I used to love playing with marbles too… My grandma did not like electronics, so I was forced to play with them.” I let my smile soften as he hummed along, turning back to his numbers.

“Wise woman,” and placed the last books into the big paper bags. ”This would be… 36 dollars.” 

“Here,” I gave him two twenties and smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

“Well, thank you, Ms. Seraphina.” He chuckled, closing the cash register and I pulled the heavy bags. My arms wobbled a little but I managed. I wanted to say bye to him, but his voice rose again, addressing someone behind me. 

“Ah, young man!” the owner’s voice rang out and I tensed up. “Managed to find the book you were looking for?” 

I glanced back over my shoulder, Rosa and the Sheriff stepped to the counter and I felt tension and dread built in my chest. I straightened up, feeling like a child caught red handed. 

“Jesus, Phiny,” Rosa chuckled, ignoring the tension that was tangible between me and the sheriff. “Just how many books did you buy?” 

“Enough…” I mumbled and turned around. I shyly looked up at him, and his piercing blue eyes just took a glance at me. I felt my stomach knot and drop as our gaze met, and I bit my lip. “Sheriff,” I nodded, voice barely above whisper. 

“My. Barlow,” he tipped his head, his jaw clenching as I turned my head away. I looked up at Rosa and her eyes were glinting in a weird way as she was texting someone. I also noticed the owner connecting some dots quietly as he took the sheriff’s book. 

“What’s up?” I asked softly, and she bit her lips. 

“Kyle is under the weather,” she said and looked at me a bit worried. “He’s been throwing up.” 

“Jesus, then go! Take care of him,” I gently touched her wrist – trying to get physical touch introduced into my communication, and with Rosa it was definitely easier.

She smiled at me, pushing her phone into her back pocket, “I’ll drop you off at home–” 

“No need, Rosa, that’s an extra twenty for you.” I shook my head gently, then I checked my phone. “I saw a bus stop right on the corner, I’ll be fine.” 

“No, Phina, listen…” 

“You probably need to get him medicine, and some food, so go…” I cut into her words, looking deeply into her eyes. “I’ll drop by tomorrow, take some tea that’s good for upset tummy.” 

She chuckled at the word tummy, but she was just as stubborn as me. Before we could commence another round of arguments, we were interrupted by a deep voice. 

“I’ll take Ms. Barlow home,” Price inserted himself into the conversation, and my jaw tensed, hands jerked into a fist. Both our eyes snapped to him – he seemed rock solid, but his fingers, ever so slightly, kept fidgeting with the book he bought. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, looked directly into my eyes and that made me raise my brow. “If that is alright with you, miss.” 

I blinked at him surprised, and Rosa looked at me cautiously. “Is it?” 

“Yes, thank you, Sheriff,” I said quickly as I was pushing on Rosa’s arm. “Now go, seriously.” 

“Alright, talk to you later, Phina,” she quickly hugged me, making me tense up but then she was out of the door quicker than I could mumble bye.

Awkward silence fell onto the room. 

I was painfully aware of his stare on me. The store owner had his nose buried into those old-timey newspapers, but I could feel him listening in on our conversation. We stood farther away from the counter though, right at the door, so in theory we should’ve been out of his hearing range. 

“You don’t actually have to drive me. Bus5 comes in…” I glanced at my phone, not once looking up at him. “Thirteen minutes.” 

“It’s no trouble for me,” he said, words coming out a bit hurried as he rubbed his neck. I glanced up at him, and his eyes were on the windows beside us. 

Briar Hollow pulled a thick duvet of fog onto itself. The sun already disappeared behind the mountains, clouds did not let much light through that day anyways… 

“And the bus ride would take like 30 minutes for you, and walking… with heavy bags, in the dark?” he added the words, voice getting gruffer, until he cleared his throat awkwardly. I drew my brows together. 

“Are you trying to scare me into hitching a ride with you?” my cold jade gaze fell into his piercing blue eyes, and his jaw clenched. 

“No, no, it wasn’t my intention…” his voice was low, as if he was fighting himself… Trying his hardest not to raise his volume or slip into a harsh tone while also trying not to stutter. It was… enthralling. “I just don’t feel comfortable letting you walk home alone in the dark…” he said, but the tone was off. The mixture of professionalism and teen awkwardness twisted and produced a weird sensation in me. 

I stared at him for a long time, no smile passing my lips, just staring. He kept trying to keep still, but he shifted his weight awkwardly. It would’ve been easier if he’d snapped at me again – his careful tone and demeanor made it harder for me to hate him.

“Well,” I finally broke the silence and I averted my gaze. “Thank you, Sheriff. That’s very kind of you.” I said and I could see a heavy weight fall from his shoulders, his tense muscles relaxing a bit. 

He cleared his throat and he took a step towards me. 

“I’ll take those.” He stated, and I glared at him immediately.

“I can manage.” I shut him off with clipped words.

He froze and we stared at each other as his jaw ticked and he cleared his throat. 

“May I help you with them anyway?” he rephrased, and that was new. 

All he did was order me around, state things, not leaving room for objection… But now he stood there, looking at me expectantly, and his switch up truly threw me off. I looked at him confused. 

“You can help me with mine,” he offered and I raised my brows, but I took his book anyway, and spun on my heel. He hauled my books up, lifting my two heavy bags easily in one hand as I yanked the door open, holding it for him – it was only fair… 

He mumbled something along the lines of thank you, but he still grabbed the door above me, looking down at me, expecting me to walk out in front of him. I rolled my eyes and I bid bye to the owner, who I swear was chuckling behind his papers. 

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, burying my face into my new scarf as a cold gush of wind sneaked under my clothes, tickling my skin. I huffed and I did not look at the tall man beside me, walking quietly. 

I noticed his truck – his dark pick up, not his cruiser. He casually opened the passenger side door, and waited for me to get in. Somehow, this whole process was awkward as hell: him being quiet, but I just knew, he ached to insult my height as I warily stared at the big step. 

“Need help?” He asked and I glared up at him. I was not entering banter with him. He told me, not even 48 hours ago to stay away from him, and there he was, trying to get me into his truck. So, hell no. I was done. 

“I manage.” I mumbled coldly, and I turned my head away, literally climbing inside his car, ineptly placing my legs. Humiliating… Really. 

He closed the door behind me, and I heard him open the backseat door, placing my bags there. Then I remembered, I left my other bags in Rosa’s car, but it was whatever… I was gonna see her anyways, so it’s not like it mattered. 

I grabbed the belt and clicked it in. It ran right in front of my neck, and I tried to ignore the uncomfortable dug, my eyes falling to my lap, to his book. I was fuming, clearly annoyed by the situation. 

Let him make it up… 

My jaw clenched as the voice came. I glared at the book, I wasn’t gonna let him mess with my head. I was done with his constant push and pull, one kind act then two cruel – it did not sound like a fair trade. I pursed my lips and played with the cover of his book, then I blinked noticing the title. 

Occult Sciences - A Compendium of Transcendental Doctrine and Experiment

I drew my brows together, staring at the old, beat up paperback. What the hell was Price doing with a book like that? 

I heard his side of the door open, and the cold swept in. I snapped my eyes to him, his cologne already lingering in his car, but now filling the place fully. His blue eyes landed on me, and before I could react he was reaching over to me. I leaned back as he moved forward, eyes widening as his eyes shifted behind me. 

Then I heard a click. 

He lowered the seatbelt. 

Silence fell onto the vehicle, breath caught in my throat, heart drumming loudly inside its boney cage. His eyes were back on mine, and his arm was still extended in front of me. I gulped, and he spoke, his deep voice not giving any signs that he felt uncomfortable with our closeness. 

“Is this better?” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” I mumbled, averting my gaze, fingers twisting around the seatbelt, and he pulled back. I could not look at him after that. He didn’t even touch me and his presence was enough to fluster me – Jesus, just how pathetic I was. 

He started the car and pulled from the parking space, and I was set up for fifteen, almost twenty minutes of silent ride through town with a man who kissed me then left me hot and bothered on my kitchen counter. 

Very funny, spirit guides. Real lessons, thank you. 

It was hard to think with him so close, and of course he drove a stick… So, every time he reached for it, it made me twitch a little. I held my knees together, sitting like a proper lady, his book on my lap. I kept my eyes on the road that was covered by the thick fog, fingers playing with the red strings of my scarf nervously. 

Then his voice filled the dark car, rain gently tapping on the windshield. 

“Did you have a nice day with Rosalinde?” he asked and I froze. My jaw flexed and I sneaked a peak at him. His serious eyes on the road, beard perfectly trimmed per usual, big arms moving as he drove. My nostrils flared and I only mumbled, but I was sure he heard. 

“We really don’t have to force conversation.” My voice was small, but soft. I did not mean to be volatile, but it felt useless to discuss mundane things when we had so many serious ones hanging above us – we avoided them like the plague, naturally.

“Alright,” he breathed softly and I turned my head. 

Why did I feel so guilty for being mildly rude to him… I truly felt horrible. I hated making people feel bad about themselves, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not hate him… Even though I knew he deserved it. 

He drove respecting all the speed limitations, and I felt safe… I hated how his scent made my heart beat quicker, but my mind quieter. 

My eyes fell to my lap again, mouth moving before I could stop myself.

“What are you doing with this occult book?” The words slipped despite wanting to keep quiet. I heard him huff, and we slowed at a stop sign, letting a few cars pass. 

“It’s confidential,” his deep voice slipped deep between my ribs, but my brow arched and I looked at him. My mouth once again was quicker than my logical mind. 

“What, you and your boys are starting a coven?” 

I was petrified when I realized what I said and I turned my head ahead, but after a second of silence I actually heard him chuckle. 

“Me and my boys?” 

“Forget it,” I mumbled and his voice was actually amused. 

“No, please elaborate,” he said and I felt him glance at me. I was pretty sure he did not see my red cheeks, but I could not look up at him. I was an idiot. Clearly, I had some big problems in my head… 

“Rather not, sir.” I muttered. A deep sigh left his lips as he shifted a gear. 

“Back to calling me sir, I see…” he said and my jaw flexed. I gritted my teeth, jaw flexing as anger bubbled inside me. 

“Well, if I remember correctly you told me to call you that,” I said, voice strained. “Had vivid memories and bruises to remind me.” 

Silence fell between us and the mood shifted again. Red tinted the interiors as we stopped at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn. Only the rain dared to make some nose, but him and I – we remained motionless. I closed my eyes and my jaw clenched. Why was I like that? 

“I’m sorry…” his voice fell deeper and guilt mixed into it. I shook my head, it really did not matter… 

“It’s whatever.” I sighed and turned my head to look out of the window. The streets were empty, white patches covering the distance.

It was hard to speak after that… after I created the tension – I was beating myself up for it, but there was not much to do about it either. Neither of us knew how to resolve, how to apologize for the things we’ve said, we’ve done.

He pulled up beside my house, the porch lights on in their little painted glass covers – he changed all the bulbs last week. He did help me a lot – more like forced his help onto me, but he did clean up my porch rather nicely, now looking all proper, painted and well taken care of…

“Thank you for the ride, She–” I was still clicking the belt out as he already shut his door.

My head snapped up, I blinked rapidly as his tall frame passed through the front. He did not rush, but his long legs took him over to the other side rather quickly, then my door opened. I looked at him confused as he just stood there, calmly watching me. 

Did he seriously… open the door for me? 

“You really don’t have to do this,” I leaned forward, placing his book on the dashboard and he shook his head. 

“It’s basic decency, don’t over think it,” he said softly, trying hard not to sound so gruff. Then he reached his hand to me. “Let me help…” 

I pursed my lips, but I was done fighting him, I was too tired anyway. I shifted in the seat, turned towards him, my legs dangling off from the high seat. I thought he’d just hold my hand but my eyes widened as his arms reached past them, and his fingers found my waist. With a swift movement, he pulled me out of the car. 

I gasped and grabbed his upper arms to steady myself. For a second I thought I was floating, his cologne and the faint scent of cigars twirled around us then he placed me gently on the pavement. I stared at his chest, my fingers straining against the cold material of his coat. His movement was reluctant, almost hesitant, but he did pull his hands away politely, letting mines fall beside my body, and he straightened up, creating a polite distance. 

“Thank you,” I mumbled as he nodded. He got me my bags, and they were heavy in my hands. I tried not to show him that I struggled a bit. But his eyes narrowed, knowing me too well, and I saw his fist tighten.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to take those in?” 

“I am… But really, thank you… And for the ride too.” I said only glancing up at him. He fell silent, then I nodded and walked to my gate – it still creaked. I walked up to my house, and he did not drive off until I was inside. I did not look back, I did not dare to… Because as soon as that door closed my knees buckled. 

I leaned against the wood. 

My chest was heavy with grief… Head loud with confused questions. 

I was questioning every day and minute spent in his presence.

I was utterly confused by him.

– – – – – – – – – – – –

It started with the flowers. 

A clumsy bouquet of wildflowers – beautiful ones, wrapped in brown paper. No note, nothing. 

I was leaving my house, and I just noticed it on the doorstep. The wind played with my scarf and I squinted. I stared at it for a long time, Omen slipped between my boots and smelled them, as if to check for bad energy – he hissed at it.

“Oh, shush,” I pushed him back inside, and I picked up the bouquet. 

I refused to take them inside. It would have meant I accepted whatever the intention was behind them. I put them on the little bench I had on the porch, then left to deliver soaps and witch bottles to Lindy.

 I did not have much planned for the day. Grocery shopping, meeting the guys at the diner, helping Rosa set up the Harvest Festival for that weekend – small tasks. 

I loved October, it provided many events and fun activities. The farmer’s market was amazing too, bustling with early autumn flowers, jams, and honey. Many were selling pumpkins and apple cider – I had to buy a big orange pumpkin… I had some nice squashes for decoration set up on my porch and stairs, but I wanted to make some soup too, and the older farmer assured me that it was sweet. Perfect for the type of  dish I was making.

I paid and grabbed the big pumpkin, hugging it to my chest, then I glanced at the already rounding tote bag and another paper bag on the ground. I did not even have time to wonder how I was gonna get it all, when a younger farmer appeared.

 “Here, let me help you with those, Ms. Seraphina. No sense straining yourself.” He flashed a thousand watt smile and I smiled back at him softer. 

“Thank you, you’re very kind.” I said and he grabbed everything. 

He was the clean, polished, not the rugged, dirt-on-his-hands type of farmer. He was friendly, maybe a bit too forward, but nice enough.

I laughed as he loaded a bag of bought products in the back of my Camaro, and I bent down to place the pumpkin in the passenger seat.

“Well, thank you so much,” I straightened up and I noticed his gaze shift from my backside. I raised a brow softly. 

Cheeky young ones! the whisper passed and my lips twitched. 

 “Least I could do. You shouldn’t have to carry all this alone. Besides…” he grinned a little, trying to be all charming. I just knew if Johnny or the Sheriff stood beside me, they would have rolled their eyes. “…a woman like you shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to lend a hand. Or maybe even take you out for dinner.”

My smile stiffened, and I cleared my throat but I tried to keep my tone warm and friendly. “I’m not the kind of girl you’d want to date, I assure you.

“Now that’s nonsense. You’re a beautiful woman, Ms. Seraphina. Kind, smart. That’s more than enough.” He said not getting the hint. Also, somehow his words, more like the tone, made me want to hex him… Just a little.

A smile flickered past my lips and I locked my jade eyes on his, making his own lashes flutter with nervous energy. “I’m not easy to deal with. But… thank you.” I took a step back and dug my keys from my bag, but he just shrugged. He wasn’t exactly pushy, he was just persistent. Like someone who was not used to hearing no as an answer. 

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d be glad to take you somewhere nice. Just say the word.” He flashed me a smile that was a bit unnatural, almost practiced, contrasting my little crooked one. I shook my head. 

 “I’ll keep the offer in mind.” I let him off softly, voice still gentle but firm. He clicked his tongue then tipped his hat as a bye and I just shook my head. 

I drove myself to the diner. Not many were there – I assumed the officers were at work, Rosa probably running around the town hall, chasing the Major for his signature on multiple contracts. Therefore, I didn’t even want to sit down, just walked to the counter, saying hi to a few elderly men – sitting in what I assume was the booth they sat at since they were in their 20s – and I turned to the waitress. 

“Good morning,” I smiled and she smiled back at me from behind her glasses. 

“The usual, sweetheart?” She asked and I nodded adding Rosa’s order too, turning my attention to the pies on display. 

Oh yeah, I had to get more baking supplies… I promised to bake some cookies and cakes for the Harvest Festival. I was squatting in front of the glass, inspecting a particularly beautiful cherry pie, and I was deep in conversation about it with the “sou-chef” who made it, when the door opened behind us, little bells chiming in warning manner. 

And I did not have to look up. I could just feel him, his energy. His warm stare on my back, and I did not turn, pretending to not feel the shift in the air when he arrived. 

“Good morning, Sheriff!” The waitress called out and Price greeted her nicely, he also conversed with the veterans in their booth, just a few polite words. 

I dared to glance at him, catching his side profile. His cheeks rounded as he smiled, eyes calm on the older men, as he talked with them, his hands casually showed in his pockets. He stood in a wider stance, so he wasn’t exactly towering over the two men, talking to them respectfully, as equals. 

The Sheriff was a good man – or so I was told. And I had no doubt about that… But he was not good to me, not really. Well, not for my mental state, that’s for sure.

“Ms. Seraphina,” I heard a female voice and I rose from the ground. I smiled at the waitress. “Your coffee.” 

“Thank you so much,” I took the cups and she left me to tend to a few others who entered the diner. 

I grabbed the cinnamon and sprinkled a little on top of the foam. I twirled the wooden spoon thing, and reached for a napkin to pat up a few droplets I managed to get on the counter. Then I felt him, his scent reaching me before his words. 

I glanced to the side, his tall body appearing beside mine. 

“Good morning,” he nodded, and I almost smirked. He did not use my name. 

“Good morning,” I nodded back to him, and I stopped the wooden spoon in my coffee. 

I reached for two plastic tops. I noticed his fingers drumming on the countertop as I fiddled with the lids, and I almost smirked. He seemed to have been deep in thoughts but then as I just turned around, I felt him tense up. My voice slipped between us, smooth, lowered, nothing suggestive, just a bit different from my usual shy demeanor, “Bye, Sheriff.” I breathed.

His fingers twitched then stopped, I caught him turn ever so slightly after me, but I did not look back. I was pretty sure he knew I knew those flowers were from him. I was also sure, he thought I would bring them up… 

But things have changed – and I liked him confused. 

Rosa was an amazing organizer; sharp, quick witted and frank. It never ceased to amaze me how she always knew the answer to everything, no matter who came up to her to ask a question. And she was calm, not rushed, just quick yet collected. 

She had her glasses on, tablet in one hand, coffee in the other, sending off another group to help set up a tent for the baking competition, pointing others in the opposite direction to lend a hand with setting up beer tables. 

And I just sat behind her on a bench, legs crossed, black tights covered legs slipping through the slit of my skirt, boots kicking the air. I was wrapped in a big warm scarf, coffee warming my hands, eyes hidden behind glasses because it was sunny – and it wasn’t exactly cold-cold, but I was not the type who could deal well with the colder months. 

Rosa spun around sipping her coffee, looking at her tablet before her eyes snapped to me. She stopped, then grinned. 

“I don’t know how you’ll manage winter here,” she shook her head, and continued her walk to me. 

“I’ll figure something out,” I huffed, enjoying the taste of honey and cinnamon on my tongue.

“You know, when I’m cold, Kyle’s plenty warm,” she tried to hide her grin. “Maybe you should get yourself an officer-furnace, they are amazing.” 

I glanced at her above the brim of my glasses, jade green eyes damning her as she giggled. 

“You know, if I didn’t love you this much, I would probably put you in the back of my freezer,” 

“You mean my picture, bound with black ribbon,” she raised her brow, mocking tone in place. 

“Sure, I could do that too,” I sipped my coffee calmly and she wheezed. 

“Jesus, Phiny, you have such dark humor,” Rosa shook her head and she read her notes again, still chuckling mumbling things like ‘freezer, she said’ and giggling.   

I pursed my lips then I emptied my cup. 

“Okay, you’re gonna do the front piece, and paint some planks for the kid-tent if that’s alright… I’m just gonna look for someone strong who can help you move stuff,” she was already whipping her head around, eyes scanning the perimeters. 

“I think I can manage to push some bails and pumpkins around, Rosa.” I threw my empty cup in a bin, and patted my skirt down. 

“With your twig arms?” she raised her brows and her deep brown eyes darted back at her charts. “No offence, Phina, but… no.”

“Okay, then,” with mock sniffing I rubbed my arms. “Well, if you need me, me and my twig arms will be over there, painting foxes and crows on your wooden planks.” I pouted and she snorted a laugh. 

“Drama queen,” she giggled and I grinned too, then her big browns sparked up with joy, and I knew that would be my end. “Actually? Let’s leave the painting for later and… Sheriff! Good timing!” 

“Rosalinde,” he nodded and I bit my lip, glaring at Rosa, trying to scream at her telepathically: Don’t. You. Dare. 

“Ms. Barlow,” his blue eyes shifted to me. Our eyes met. 

“Sheriff,” I nodded curtly, crossing my arms, averting my gaze, and he too, turned to look at Rosa instead of me. 

“Okay, so, Sheriff, I need you by the stage… Phina is doing the decoration and she needs someone to help move heavy stuff around,” Rosa said in a professional manner, although, it was painfully clear for all three of us, that this was a set up. And Rosa was happy playing Cupid, and the Sheriff and I? You could hear the internal screaming – well, at least from my part surely. 

“Great, whatever you need.” The sheriff nodded, then he glanced at me. I could not read his blue eyes but he extended his arm to the side. “After you,” 

“Sure,” I mumbled, taking a few steps. 

“Phina!” I heard Rosa’s voice and I sighed. I walked back to her, pulling a paper from between her delicate fingers. “The design, but I let your imagination run wild.” She grinned and my jaw clenched, and I forced a grin. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Garrick.” and I glared back one last time at her – she was already ordering someone else around, but a cruel smirk was playing on her lips. 

We walked in silence, him and I. 

Right next to the stage there were already some bigger bails put down by machine, smaller ones to the side ready to be organized into some composition. There were also plenty of pumpkins standing in big wooden crates, and lights. So many lights tangled into each other. 

I stood there glaring at the materials then at the paper… 

If I understood it correctly, they wanted an Aztec pyramid basically, with pumpkins in various sizes and lights between them… Amazing, splendid – not at all as quick and easy as I initially thought. 

 Another mistake I made was thinking that I only had to paint some animals… Now, I was stuck with a broody man beside me, and it was hard to breathe. 

“This is what we have to do,” I turned the paper slightly to the side and he stepped closer. His cologne hugged me, I was painfully aware of it all of the time, could not get enough of it… The heat of his body sneakily swept into my clothes, and though I tried to fight it, it actually felt nice… He leaned closer, and I raised my brow. 

“Should I get you reading glasses?” it slipped my lip, and his blue eyes snapped at me, then straightened up slowly, pushing his cheek out with his tongue but his face remained unreadable.

“Careful, miss,” was all he said, but with such a tone… Jesus, it made me forget my name for a second. He straightened up and he was off to the side, already pulling off his black jacket with the words “SHERIFF” on it – it was then, I realized he wasn’t in uniform… Underneath that jacket was a simple, black long sleeve, perfectly hugging his body, that seemed undoubtedly strong and capable. Thick legs shoved into dark jeans, and boots. He was already walking towards the hay bales, flexing his arms, getting them warmed up to work. 

“Gonna stare all day, little magpie?” The voice of Etta startled me, and sure enough Marla joined the teasing as they walked in with dark and autumn colored drapes. I glared at the older ladies.

“Careful, not to fall over your legs while drooling,” Marla chuckled and my lips twitched. I waved them away, turning my back to them as I could still hear them laugh. I could not help but let a small smile pass my face.

I walked over to the crates, looking at what we got, and slowly set out to work… I was working hard to untangle the lines of lights – sometimes sat on the ground, then squatted, then settled on sitting crossed legs on a beer bench, slowly pulling the small bulbs through my fingers, sorting the situation.

Price on the other hand… He was bringing over bales, one on his shoulder another dangling in his big hand as if those large bundles did not weigh like 100 pounds. He threw them, then started to organize them in the exact way he saw it on the paper. But goddamn, the way his arms flexed… I was questioning my morals.

The way he held the bales on his shoulder though… That one got me, because the memory of him, dragging me from the woods the same way slashed me. I turned red, and averted my eyes. 

Jesus, we came a long way, didn't we…

I was dissecting the tangled lights, and tried to lay them on the ground, so assembling what Rosa dreamed up would be easier. And he just kept bringing the bales, throwing and tossing them easily. When one in particular fell beside me in a rather big huff, I snapped my head to him. He put down the other from his shoulder and our eyes met.

He wasn’t even breaking a sweat –  what was this man really? 

He raised his brow, “What?” 

“Show off,” I said with a deadpan expression. It took him a second or so to process my words, then he huffed, almost smiling as he turned back to where he came from – assumed to bring more hay bales over. 

He stacked the bales on top of each other, and I finally finished untangling the lights, and so I grabbed the paper again, looking at his pyramid. He walked back next to me, and I kept looking at his creation and then at the drawing. I tilted my head, as he stood beside me, his arms crossed, him too looking at the bales. 

After a brief second of silence I spoke.

“The top is crooked,” 

“You volunteering to climb up and fix it?” he asked without missing a beat, his eyes fixed on it. I bit my lip, and mumbled with a little, crooked smile.

“…Maybe.”

“Don’t even think about it.” His eyes shifted to me, blue gaze narrowing. I got the feeling he did not like me in high places – not that I cared, I was much smaller than him, and more creative, so it was me anyways who was gonna place the perfect pumpkins into position. 

And although I could not solve the crooked problem, I placed the pumpkins in a way that would hide the small imperfection. 

I pulled the lights up with me, and tried to do the top part so we would not have to climb up again and again. Although, when Price came back with a big crate of pumpkins he did not seem happy about me adjusting the lights around the already placed orange plants. 

“Ms. Barlow…” he growled, him standing at the bottom, looking up at me. I did not move my eyes from the lights – they got fricking tangled again – but I could see from the side of my eyes that he was rubbing his jaw, as if not sure to order or beg me to get down. 

“Yes, Sheriff Price?” I pulled on the line, and the knot finally got smaller. 

“I thought we agreed on you not climbing up?”

“No?” I glanced down at him, and his troubled expression made me smirk. “We agreed I won't fix the crooked bale. Details, sir.” I said matter of factly, and I could see his jaw tick, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, pretty sure he mumbled some curses too, but I could not catch those. 

“Goddammit, just don’t fall…” he sighed. 

“Gee, amazing advice, sir,” I rolled my eyes and I could tell that I annoyed the hell out of him, but the big man just turned back to get another crate of pumpkins. I giggled, and climbed down to grab another pumpkin and placed a few up on a higher level. 

When he came back, we agreed silently that he would put a whole crate up to a place where I could easily reach it, and we worked silently. 

Sometimes we argued about certain pumpkin placements. And I hated to admit it, but it was kinda fun working with him… He had a few snarky comments that made me giggle, but I did not give him the satisfaction of seeing that. He always made sure I was safe, not overbearing, he seemed to slowly trust my ability to move around easily on top of bales. 

“Okay, I know! Pass me that big one,” I slapped my hands together and pointed at a crate below. 

He sighed and shook his head, but his blue eyes still seemed amused. 

“You are taking this way too seriously,” he grabbed the pumpkin and reached it up to me. I squatted and flashed him with a big smile, it seemed that it almost made him falter. I grabbed the pumpkin with a big smile, already stretching my legs.

“One of us have to,” I rolled my eyes with playfulness, and his jaw ticked. But I spun around and took a step, placing the big plant next to plenty of others. By that time, we were working on the lower levels, not much of danger, the drop only being a meter or two. I pushed and replaced the pumpkins differing in color and size, showing more lights between and on top of them.

Meanwhile, I failed to notice that Price was pulling some lights behind me, well, more like he warned me, and I dismissed him… So, of course, as I was backing up on the bales to check if I liked the composition or not, my boot tangled into one. 

“Ms. Barlow!” Price barked but I was too distracted, and I took another step quickly as a lightbulb went off in my head. My heel snagged on the string of lights. The sharp tug jolted against my ankle and I lost balance. “Seraph–” 

A small yelp slipped my mouth as I stumbled back. My stomach dropped as gravity yanked me towards the ground. My eyes widened as my vision moved from the hay to the sky, feeling my leg tangled up in light, pulling pumpkins with myself.

The air rushed out of me as my back hit his chest, hands instinctively coming up to cover my face. His arm hooked around my waist, the other bracing hard behind my head as he twisted us. We went down together in a rough tumble, landing in a heap of hay. A few stray pumpkins thudded to the ground around us, scattering in every direction.

For a second, I could only hear the hay rustle, feel his warm hand on top of my head, cradling me in a protective manner. The dizzying smell of his cologne mixed with the heavy earth scent, and my lashes fluttered open.

My eyes widened as I stared up into those blue eyes. My breathing hitched. One of his hands now planted beside my head, the other on my waist. His body caged me in, his chest rising and falling hard against mine. His blue eyes bored into mine, and from up close it seemed, his irises were built from ice shards. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed softly and in the moment I forgot I was laying underneath him. I was just staring up at him, slowly realizing where I was. 

Then I swallowed hard and nodded. Relief flickered in his eyes before his mouth curved.

“Verbal affirmation, Ms. Barlow.”

“I’m fine,” I managed, and his smirk deepened. He plucked a stray piece of straw from my hair, his fingers brushing too close to my jaw. I felt heat build underneath my skin, and my cheeks turned red as he continued, his eyes resting on my fiery locks. 

“You really are just a clumsy individual…” he muttered, his eyes creasing in a teasing manner. 

I shoved his chest. “It was your fault.”

He let himself roll off to the side, landing in the hay with a grunt. I sat up, brushing straw off my clothes, while the big bad Sheriff stayed sprawled like a farmhand.

“How was it my fault?” He laughed, and the rare sound prompted me to look at him. Straws were sticking from his hair, a boyish smile sat on his lips as he was looking downward, fingers raking through his thick hair. I was already standing up, dusting off my skirt, and I glared back at the big man as he sat up in the hay. I wanted to scold him but as my mouth opened to it, a deep voice swept in. 

“Love Among the Haystacks…” he mumbled and I turned around with big eyes, making eye contact with the giant man, Officer Riley himself. 

“You did not just throw the Lawrence book at me.” I didn’t blink, and I could tell my light eyes rattled the man a bit. 

“...no?” His big brown eyes fluttered to the side, and he was already walking off, multiple beer benches stacked on his shoulder as if those weighed nothing. I seriously started to wonder if there was a magical gym in this town, or if there were steroids in the police department’s water supplies. 

I turned back to look at the man, who was still sitting pulling little hays out of his hair. He suddenly looked young – the responsibility on his shoulder made him hard to place in age, but he seemed so youthful, just sitting there with tired eyes. 

He looked up at me, and I rolled my eyes. I took a few steps towards him, then leaned a little, reaching both my hands for him. 

“Come on, Sheriff… We have stuff to do,” I mumbled and let my eyes wander to his, and he smirked. His big hands swallowed my small bony ones. His touch was warm, much warmer than my hand that seemed to tremble. I did not really help him up… Once again, it was him doing most of the work, but he still accepted my hands.

He hesitated a moment before letting go of me – he noticed the shake in my fingers. His small smile did not falter though, but he let a sigh slip his lips. 

“We should take a break,” he leaned forward, plucking straws from his boots. 

“I’m okay.” I mumbled, and he shook his head slowly.

“You’re terrible at pretending you’re fine, you know that?” he scoffed and I raised a brow, trying to hit away his attention with an insult. 

“If you can’t keep up, Price, you can sit out.” I side eyed him, then continued with a little smirk. “Old bones need more rest – hey!” I shrieked and laughed. He threw a handful of hay at me, making me giggle as he rolled his eyes. Could not help but notice the playful twitch of his mouth. 

“Will you guys manage with this, or should I personally overview your work process?” We heard a very strict voice behind us. We both turned, and Rosa stood there, with a tablet in her arms, an amused smirk on her lips, joy and satisfaction glinting in her eyes. 

“We require a short break, Mrs. Garrick,” Price stepped out of the pile of hay, dusting his jeans off, then walking past me he added. “The witch can’t keep up.”

 I glared after him as Rosa’s mouth fell open, hiding her giggle with her tablet. 

I watched Price’s broad shoulders move out of sight then my eyes narrowed on Rosa. 

“Don’t you dare…” 

“You guys made up?” she beamed and I crossed my arms. 

“I would not say that…” 

The Sheriff soon returned. I was kneeling in the pile of hay, not even trying to get the pumpkins back up, just placing a few around the base of our little building, pulling lights between them carefully. 

“You can take a break, you know,” I heard his voice and a bottle of water appeared in my peripheral vision. I looked up at him, and I hesitated for a second then took it. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled, pushing my weight to my heels then stood up. He looked down at me, studying my face for a second, but then he said nothing, just nodded. 

He stepped to the side and with his hip resting against the bale, he turned to watch the square. 

I pulled my lips into a line, hesitating, but then I stepped next to him, and followed his example. I silently struggled opening the bottle, and I sighed. Was I truly this weak? 

He did not comment, just reached his hand towards me, and I just placed the bottle into his hand with reddening ears. I mumbled softly, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he bit the end of it, but it felt like he wanted to add something. I could not figure it out.

I took back the bottle, fingers brushing and neither of us commented. It was awkward, sure, but rather serene at that moment. There was nothing to talk about when we just stood there… Then I realized… All we ever did was banter. Nothing more… Sometimes playful, but I don’t think I ever had a normal conversation with Price. 

“Do you think Rosalinde will kill us if we leave this thing like, well, this…” he mumbled and I bit my lip. 

“What do you think, Sheriff? She’s like a general in the Town Hall context.” I muttered and he snorted. I glanced at him, and a small smirk was playing on his lips. 

“Fair enough,” he pushed himself away, asking for the paper we had the original plan on. 

The sun was slowly slipping, readying itself to hide behind the mountains. He stood halfway behind me, I could almost lean into him, but I kept reminding myself that I should not get too comfortable with him… I mean, after all, he was just a man.

We decided our design was better anyway, and when Rosa circled back, a low whistle left her lips. 

“Looks good,” she stepped beside me. I was standing alone looking at the big centerpiece of the Harvest Festival, and I smiled at her. 

“Where is the Sheriff?” she asked suspiciously, seemingly a bit afraid I managed to bury the man six-feet under. 

“Just wait,” I mumbled, and a smirk played on my lips, then the lights flickered to life. I grinned, and Rosa finally pulled her glasses off. She assessed the situation, then pulled her lips into a satisfied smile. 

Price dusted his hands off as he was walking back towards us, his shirt straining on his well-built body. His eyes snapped to mine as I stared at him, and I let myself smile. He seemed surprised and he almost faltered, but I turned my head forward to look at the thing we’ve built. 

“It looks amazing, Sheriff,” Rosa said as he arrived next to me. I could not help but smile, it looked perfect, almost out of a Hallmark movie. 

“It does, huh.” he mumbled, and I glanced at him, his piercing blue eyes resting on the composition. Then he turned his attention to me and let a small curve slip his lips.  

“You two are half the disaster I expected,” Rosa’s words interrupted us, and we both turned to her, but she was already walking off. 

We sighed, but then we did not have much time to interact either. The Sheriff was approached by two of his officers and I was asked by a volunteer to help with Marla and Etta’s stand, and so with quick nods we parted. 

Oddly, something ached in my chest as I had to say bye. 

– – – – – – – – – – –

Third day in a row – another bouquet laid on my doorstep. Again, brown paper wrapped, but instead of wildflowers, or heavy smelling pink flowers this was an array of burnt oranges, dark reds and gold. I picked it up to inspect it; it smelled like autumn itself, earthy instead of sweet. Golden sunflowers with dark centers, straining against burnt-orange marigolds. Rust-red chrysanthemums curled into layers, between them were stalks of wheat threaded, their pale gold heads bringing light to the heavy bouquet. And maple leaves… Deep crimson and orange had been tucked among the flowers bringing the whole concept together. 

It was absolutely beautiful. 

My fingers brushed along the petals of the sunflowers. I adored them, but I could not get any as of late at the farmer’s market. I thought all of them were harvested by the end of August, but here they were, smiling up at me. 

I pressed my lips together, and placed the bouquet next to the others. I walked back inside, bringing another vase out – an old pitcher. It fit the rustic aesthetic of my porch. I placed that beside my front door, next to the little decorative gourds. 

Omen did not share my enthusiasm, but I just gently pushed him back inside my home, and I set out for another day of work with Rosa. 

I was painting little foxes and autumn fairies on a wooden plank in the kid’s tent. 

His absence was noticeable. He was working – I assumed, but my thoughts kept wandering. Price really spent his free time the other day, helping move hay bales and standing guard to me… Was he truly that bored? 

I mean, I was bored… I delivered everything to Lindy already, my book needed none of my attention, the grimoire was selling. I taught the teens Tarot, but otherwise? I had too much free time… Of course, I baked – again, too much – cookies always ending up at the police station through Johnny, or at the Town Hall through Rosa… And I took care of my garden, but there was not much to do anymore as I rushed through the tasks.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed peace. I enjoyed that I had more time to try out new recipes and rituals, but otherwise? I was wondering if I should start some new project… 

I dried my hands as I placed down the brush. An autumn picture with magical creatures and smiling animals was staring back at me. I let it dry, and I stretched. I’ve been at it for hours according to my watch, and my back ached as I moved around. 

The town square was bustling with volunteers. Many wanted to help out – from what I gathered the Harvest Festival was a rather big deal for the locals. 

“Seraphina!” 

Ugh, not him… the whispers twirled around me with a light breeze and I turned. 

Sure enough, the all-smile-no-dirt farmer was walking towards me – in nice jeans, a blue checkered button down and a cowboy hat. He was pleasant to look at, sure, but it pained me to smile. He was circling me all day long, and I was having enough. 

“Hey, Caleb,” I smiled up at him, and he had a smug smile on his lips. 

“Finished your little doodling?” He asked cheerfully, but yet again. His demeaning tone irked me. My jaw clicked but I still smiled. 

“I did, I guess,” I blinked looking away, turning to start packing the painting tools away. He yapped about how much he helped out today, and even yesterday. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I did not hate younger guys, or men my age… But there was an overwhelming amount of insecurity amongst them that prompted them to praise and talk about themselves, afraid nobody would notice their efforts. It was tiring… In the city I was everybody’s therapist, listening to problems, hyping up people who had more audacity than I would ever have, and Caleb seemed nice, but he just triggered a part of me… A deeply buried, dark part of me that wanted to tell him to fuck off – but I didn’t. 

“...anyway, I haven’t eat all day, how about you?” he asked and since I did not pay attention to the implication I just shrugged. 

“I didn’t either,” and I did not elaborate that I was planning on having pumpkin soup with a grilled-cheese sandwich, curling up on my sofa with my black cat afterwards and reading tarot cards, since I was sure he did not care – he did not ask. 

“Great! Then let’s get out of here. I know an amazing place. I’m sure you’ll love their steak.” He grinned and my eyes widened. I almost dropped my brushes as I whipped my head to him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, come on, Seraphina. You are a pretty girl, but playing dumb gets tiresome,” he chuckled and I pulled my brows together, a flabbergasted smile resting on my lips. The audacity of men always baffled me. 

“I’m not playing dumb, Caleb, you just caught me off guard,” I chuckled, shaking my head, trying to smile but it came out as a grimace. 

“Ah, in that case, let me help you,” he shrugged, wanting to take the box full of supplies and I just stood there awkwardly, unsure how to get myself out of the situation. Then he got close, and he laughed. “You have a bit of paint here, let me–” he reached towards me, but I took a surprised step back, staring at him. He was a bit hasty. 

He looked at me confused and I forced a laugh. 

“Sorry, I just don’t like people touching me.” I said tilting my head, nervously wringing the cloth I was still holding between my fingers. He chuckled and it was my turn to be confused. 

“Come on… You really don’t have to sell this whole innocent play,” he smiled but he soon realized maybe he should not demean a girl whom he’s trying to ask out, “So, um, about that dinner – what do you say? There’s a steakhouse one town over, best cuts you’ll ever have.” 

My stomach tightened.

“Caleb, I–” I opened my mouth, scrambling for a gentle way to turn him down, when a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Ms. Barlow.”

I froze. I didn’t even need to turn around to know. That low timbre, steady voice edged with command – Sheriff Price, of course. 

Caleb’s smile faltered just slightly, then he straightened. “Sheriff,” he greeted, all easy charm, like he had daily conversations with him. I turned slightly, and sure enough from the crowd of volunteers and curious citizens, a trio appeared. 

I blinked at them; Rosa smiled, Garrick kept a polite, neutral look on his face, and then the Sheriff. Well, he wasn’t exactly looking pleased. His blue eyes flicked to the box in Caleb’s arms, then back to me. His tone was even, but his presence swallowed the space between us, and as his blue eyes found mines I felt completely captured. 

“I need a word with you. Now.” His words were final, done, and I did not even question his authority or that it would be a ruse. Clearly, Caleb was not very happy with what was happening. 

Caleb gave a light laugh, shifting his weight. “Now? We were just–”

Price’s gaze finally landed on him, unblinking.

“Appreciate you lending a hand, son. But she’s needed elsewhere.” 

The way he said it – polite, clipped, final – made my pulse skip. Caleb blinked, his grin stiffening around the edges. It made me tense up as well, but the younger man gave in, obeying the clearly more authoritative one.

“I see,” he said, forcing an easy shrug. Then his eyes slid back to me. “Rain check, then?”

I swallowed, offering him a crooked smile while I kept eye contact with a softened gaze. A look that softened rejections but left no room for hope. I felt sorry for him, really, but I was still happy that the Sheriff dealt with my problem. 

“We’ll see.” My voice was soft and he sighed. Caleb nodded, but I could see the dent in his confidence as he set the box down on the table and tipped his hat. 

I could not even feel fully what washed over me, Price’s voice came again. Now, lower, still clipped but less harsh. 

“Come on, Ms. Barlow,” he extended his arm, but his head was turned toward the way he wanted to get me. I caught his jaw flex, and his eyes briefly glanced at my paintings. I gulped and put that bloody rugged cloth down that I was abusing throughout the conversation. I looked at Rosa, she was trying her hardest not to grin, and Garrick kept such heavy eye contact with his boss – I thought he wanted to communicate with him telepathically. 

“I finished the pictures,” I finally said, taking a few steps towards the Sheriff, but I was still looking at my friend. “Tell me if you want something changed, I can repaint them tomorrow morning.” 

“Sure, Phina, thanks!” She waved after me, but she was already grabbing her husband’s arm, dragging him, whispering to him frantically. 

I walked beside Price, he was always beside me, his arm extended behind my body – but would not touch. He steered me towards the side of the square where  there were less people, and we finally stopped. 

I looked up at him, as he stood between me and the street. 

“Am I in trouble, sir?” I asked tilting my head, and I did not fail to notice that tick in his jaw when I called him that. It felt unnatural, yet… He kept calling me Ms. Barlow, I wasn’t gonna address him as John. That would have been insane.

“No, you’re not, why is this your first ques–” he cut himself off, and I blinked up at him with a small smirk. He cleared his throat. “Actually, never mind. I,” he glanced at the sky as if God would rescue him from this situation. He rubbed his neck and his long sleeve shirt screamed against his big arms. 

My lashes fluttered, and I forced my gaze back to his eyes. His blue irises seemed to pierce my soul as he looked down at me, and I felt completely lost in them – then his words snapped me out of it. 

“Teach me about the occult,” words I’ve never imagined him to say. I blinked at him rapidly. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I wanted to ask if you could teach me about the occult,” he said, rubbing his beard, bringing his brow together as he continued awkwardly. “You seem to know a lot about, um, witchy business, and ugh…” 

“Witchy business?” my brow shot up and I almost laughed him in the face. 

“You know what I mean.” He grunted and his eyes narrowed on my twitching lips, but the tip of his ears were red. He cleared his throat and straightened up – he seemed to be in a big fight with his ego. “I know I’m in no position to ask favors from you, but… I really need to learn more about rituals.” 

His honesty made me push my laughter away, and took a deep breath, looking at the big man, clearly seeming to be troubled by heavy thoughts. And I hated how, he struggling with something, made me worried about him… 

“There are many different ways and practices,” I said softer, my voice lower, normal. His eyes snapped to me as he heard my voice, his gaze lingering on my face as he seemed to be drinking my words. “You must have a specific thing in mind, Price.” My eyes drove back into his, and his lashes seemed to flutter just for a second. 

“I can’t give you all of the details…” he said seriously and I nodded slowly. 

“Okay… Then give me as much as you can, and I'll let you know what I need to give you a fuller picture.” I said finally, and he seemed taken aback, as if he was expecting me to take up a fight… 

And honestly? I would have – had he whispers not warn me to be kinder to him. 

He studied me, suspicion slipping into his blue gaze, and I waited for him patiently, head tipped back a little to keep eye contact. Then ever so slowly, he nodded. 

“That would be very helpful, I–” he searched for the words then he settled, his eyes almost softening. “Thank you.” 

I tilted my head and smiled at him, maybe softer than I wanted to, “Don’t thank me just yet…” 

We stood there for a second longer, just gazing really. Staring into each other's eyes, wondering. 

What was the other’s deal?

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading! As always, thank you so so much for your kind words and notes, I'm dying here reading the notifications. Until next time... Many kisses and love, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 17]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: mention of previous violent acts, yearning, controlling behaviour, occult, i know nothing about medical stuff lol, dizziness, physical weakness, i curse a lot, age gap (duh), slowww burn - but like, we're getting somewhere hehe, protective price, sensual touching(?), jesus christ the ANGST -- is this angst? let me tell you, i just love the military men in my (distant) family. they are something else, really, haha. umm... i wrote chapter 17 and 18 together, so prepare yourself mentally... also, don't hate me for the angst. thanks, love ya, bye and enjoyyyy :))

Sheriff's Order

I was cleared at the Briar Hollow clinic rather quickly. I did not need stitches – it was just a small little break running on my upper lip, another scar across my nose. It was little, minimal injuries, just too much adrenaline then the emotional crash. Oh, and mild concussion because I really needed that with my already messed up mind. 

Johnny told me about the Shepherds. I heard about them before, a few words by the church ladies, alongside curses when Mr. Carver talked about them, but never much. The older ladies in town mentioned them when I told them about my little drives alone in the woods. They told me they were not the best people… And I should keep my distance. Because Briar Hollow was good, many kind people lived here, but everything with good and light came with shadows. 

Johnny did not elaborate on the Shepherds, and I did not ask. I was too jaded to do as he drove me home after the crash. He talked to me softly, helped me get inside…

He was a sweetheart. Honestly. 

The following days he was checking in on me, bringing Rosa with himself. They did not care, and there was no place for arguing. I insisted I was fine – they insisted I needed to shut up and let them take care of me… 

This town… I did not know how I deserved this many good people in my life. 

Mr. Simons repaired my red convertible right before the crash. He was shaking his head, telling me over the phone that at this point his whole livelihood was covered by me. I just laughed. I had a monthly schedule visiting that garage – more calls with Mr. and Mrs. Simons than with my own mother. 

“No, Phiny, sit the fuck down,” I heard Johnny’s voice. I glanced back over my shoulder, looking down at him. I was standing on my kitchen counter, trying to grab a bowl from the top of my shelf – he was to blame for that, naturally. He thought it was a good idea, hiding all my stuff, trying to force me to stay on my couch for ten (!!) days, resting as the doctor ordered. 

“I really need this, Johnny, I'm going crazy,” I rolled my eyes spinning around and panic sat on his face. He was beside my counter in remarkable speed, and I stared down at him 

“Come on, Phiny, doctor said you have to rest” he was reaching his arms up towards me, and I rolled my eyes, but I let him pull me to the floor, letting go of me as soon as I was safe. 

“I cannot do this,” I groaned, crossing my arms, leaning back against the counter. “I cannot work, cannot renovate, cannot tend to my garden – at least let me bake!” I glared up at him, but he copied my crossed arms and tried to look strict. 

“No, you have to sit down and rest. You keep having these freak accidents, the doctor said you have mental exhaustion, and don’t even let me get started on the concussion!” His voice was gruff, trying his hardest to make his puppy eyes look serious, and I tried to keep my own frown, but it was hard to fight him. I could not take him seriously. “So, you need to sit the hell down.”

“You’re honestly worse than Rosa. At least I could reason with her,” I walked past him and I could feel him roll his eyes. 

“Well, she is coming over after she’s done at work, and just so you know, she will flip out if you dare to be anywhere else but on your couch.” His heavy boots followed me as I collapsed onto the sofa. 

“This is honestly ridiculous you guys,” I shook my head, folding my arms and legs into a twist. “The doc said to rest, not to act like a victorian child with tuberculosis” 

“She also said you could be dizzy for a week or so, so maybe don’t climb up on things, take it easy with physical activity – but you don’t seem to listen,” he shook his head, grabbing his keys as his blue eyes swam back to me. He was scolding me daily – which was rich, considering, he did not take good care of himself. But he was treating my recovery as a top priority op. 

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. 

“I bet Officer Riley is a better nurse than you,” I mumbled and he raised his brow as he pushed his hat on his head, covering his godawful haircut.

“You don’t want to experience Simon taking care of you,” he laughed genuinely and I groaned. “Seriously, Phiny, one week's rest, so just be a good girl, okay?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” I rolled my eyes at the cooing. “I just want to do something useful.” 

“I’d let you do as you please, Phiny, but you have to rest. Sheriff’s order,” Johnny shook his head absentmindedly and my lashes fluttered

“What did you just say?” I snapped my head towards him, and he froze.

He realised he messed up. “...doctor’s order?” 

“Don’t play, Johnny, I heard you.” I glared at him, rising from the couch dangerously slow, and his blue eyes darted away from me. “Did the Sheriff have a hand in how ya’ll treat me like a kid?” 

He bit his lip, hissing, rubbing his neck but then he broke, “Of course he fucking does, Phiny… You know him… He likes to control outcomes.” 

“Well, Johnny,” I prowled towards him, and I actually saw fear in his eyes. “You go to work, then after you said hi to your lil’ coworkers you drag your ass to that insufferable prick’s office and tell him, no, quote me on this – leave me the fuck alone.” I pushed my finger into his chest catching his puppy blue eyes. “Got it?” 

“Do you want me to get all sassy too? Get press on nails?” he asked after a few seconds of silence and that cracked me up. 

“You’re such an idiot,” I shook my head but he grabbed me and hugged me how annoying older brothers do. 

“You love meee, Phiny,” he ruffled my hair and I hissed. “And don’t ya’ worry. I let him know you miss him.” 

“Fuck you,” I was slapping his lower arm so he would release me. 

“Nah, keep the foul mouthing to the Sheriff’s ears,” he quickly kissed my head and he was off, waving back one last time from the door, “Bye Phiny!” 

I looked at the closed door. The house turned quiet immediately. I might have stood there longer than I care to admit, but then I shook my head, and walked back to the sofa

I laid back down, draping an arm over my eyes. I hated to admit it, but any time I got really mad a splitting headache crawled up inside my skull. Omen knew, immediately settling on my chest, purring, hoping that his frequency subdues my pain. Sometimes I wondered if my cat and Johnny formed an alliance against me – both working their hardest to keep me in a horizontal position. 

As it turned out I did hit my head in the crash, hence the dizziness and the headaches… And my friends took it seriously. Me resting, keeping me calm. I wasn’t dizzy anymore, not really… My head hurt sometimes, but it was only natural – according to the doctor. My lip was broken, a small red line running on my upper lip and another small nick on the bridge of my nose. I got out of that crash barely harmed and I felt guilty they were all taking it so seriously… I wasn’t even severely injured…

They kept checking up on me daily. Johnny, Rosa, sometimes officer Garick or Riley tagged along with them. They were the buffers between me and them.

It took a few days before they let me do stuff other than laying or sitting on a couch. The initial panic passed slowly. Johnny said I looked too frail after that crash, as if I lost part of me – I did not get what he meant… But I was happy once they let up on the strictness. Baking was not okay – too many dangers according to my friends, but they came to a consensus that perhaps painting my porch was okay – without a ladder, and I was confined to the floor, of course. 

I was kneeling on my porch, painting the railings –  I did the wood sanding and paint peeling process during one of the previous weeks, but I was too busy to get to the painting itself. Now, I actually had the time, forced to take it slowly, and I did. Painting my railings and small posts of my round around porch slowly, meticulously. It was almost hypnotic as I got around, not rushing anywhere. 

It was a calm day in October, still warm, but now I did not wear bralettes under the overalls. The weather cooled enough to put on long sleeves and turtlenecks. I dragged the brush along the smoothed wood, getting dark brown paint on the surface. Some children biking past my still messy fences screamed their ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s. I waved back at them with a small smile. I grew to like my neighborhood, and the people around me accepted me. 

The church ladies still looked at me like a whore, but at least they gave up on calling the police on me each week… Now they only murmured after sermons as I left the church in my white dresses – because yes, to church? I only wore white.

I kept on working, Omen playing with dried leaves then set out to chase the rounder orange tabby who was lounging in my garden a lot lately. I stopped to assess the situation – my grounds were covered in rich colors and dried leaves. Johnny put my gardening tools to the top of my garage shelves, what an ass… so I was unable to do anything about the mess. Otherwise, my summer wildflowers died and dried off, but to my pleasant surprise I actually found a small pumpkin patch in my back garden. A few smaller ones already rested beside my front door, I used them as decoration. Not that my house really needed any… It looked like a haunted house by itself, but the pumpkins helped sell the idea. 

“The sheriff will be so pissed if he finds you defying the 'doctor’s orders'” Rosa’s voice rang out behind me and I glanced at her over my shoulder. She had two takeout boxes in her hand and I smiled at her. 

“The Major is not missing you?” I asked back with raised brows and she grinned. 

“It’s my lunch break, be grateful I bless you with my presence,” she rolled her eyes and I laughed. I put the brush down in a plastic container and dusted my hands off. 

“Sure, thank you Mrs. Garrick,” I slowly got into a squatting position. Then, hands resting on my knees, I straightened up. Faint dizziness washed over me, nothing unusual. 

“You good there?” she asked, still smiling, but a bit of worry tainted her cheerful voice. I nodded and walked over to her.

“Yeah, my head doesn't like anything rushed.” I smiled and walked to her. 

We sat on my stairs, both of our backs against the still bare, but sanded woody railings. She brought pho soup – chicken for her, tofu for me – and we were giggling as we had lunch. I felt grateful for them, these people I befriended over the months.

“You’d do the same… You did the same for the sheriff,” she said as she put her container down, listening to me complain about my guilt I was feeling: that I was using them. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pushed the tofu around with the plastic spoon. 

“C’mon… Kyle saw the container on his desk,” she smiled at me playfully. “Don’t tell me you didn’t give him some magic potion to help him with his migraine.” 

“It’s only tea… And it hardly counts.” I shook my head, looking at the orange tabby lazily swaying down the little road to my gate. “I just gave him some dried plants, that’s all,” 

“You have no idea how much that meant,” she shook her head and I looked at her. I placed down my unfinished soup. “He’s been struggling with headaches ever since he left the military. Kyle said it’s quite common with ex-military dudes… PTSD and stuff.” She said softly and I pressed my lips together. 

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled and she just smiled. 

“Yeah, well, he tried to play it down, but everybody can see him struggling sometimes days and weeks at a time… So, I don’t know what you’ve been giving to him, but Kyle and the squad are eternally grateful,” she chuckled, patting her lips with a napkin, leaving plum colored lipstick on the white surface.  

“Well, I’m happy if he’s not dying of pain…” I rolled my eyes, remembering just how stubborn he was last time, refusing to take it.

“You should sell them,” she chuckled again, and I raised my brow. “Your magic tea.”

“I already sell plenty of stuff, thank you,” I shook my head staring into her deep brown eyes. “I would rather give them away if I know someone is struggling.” 

She smiled as I said that then glanced at her wristwatch. She sighed.

“Ugh, I have to go,” she stood up dusting off her workpants. Her big brown eyes landed on me, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you gonna be alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna take a break, don’t worry,” I stood up too and she patted my arm. 

“Good,” she skipped off the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

I waved after her as she hopped into her car, and I just leaned against the main post. I felt calm and sleepiness wash all over me, then I felt Omen around my ankle. I guess it was time for a little afternoon nap. 

I worked on my porch later in the afternoon too, slowly getting it done. It annoyed me how tired I grew after only a few hours of work. I was kneeling on the bare boards, coating the posts in a generous amount of paint, but I was disappointed how ploddingly I got around. And I knew that I needed to paint the whole thing again once it dried…

I sighed and with my wrist I pushed sweat away from my forehead. I was on my knees, ready to get back into work, but then the air shifted. The faint smell of smoke and cologne made my pulse kick up, then his voice followed.

“I thought the doctor said to rest,” his voice didn’t even faze me anymore. 

He never said hi, never goodbye. He just appeared and barked an order or something snarky. Sheriff Price at its finest. 

I sat back on my heels and turned my head, pushing my chin against my shoulder. My eyes studied his form.

The big, towering figure of the Sheriff leaned against one of the main posts beside the stairs. His arms crossed, feet pushing on a creaking, loose floorboard. Then as his scowl resolved his blue eyes rested on me, and I raised my brows. 

“I heard it was your order,” I pushed myself up, fighting the gentle sway. His jaw ticked and I heard him take a step, but I straightened up completely before he could move. I crossed my arms too, and adjusted my stance a little to steady myself. My gaze found him, daring him to say something. He huffed, and stood down. 

“Hm, yes, MacTavish quoted you rather accurately on your complaints, I’m afraid,” his deep voice rumbled, but a smirk played on his lips. 

“I can take care of myself, Sheriff, I’m not a child,” I swiped my hands in an old cloth as I walked towards him. He stood a few steps lower than me on the stairs, therefore our faces were on the same level. I glared directly into his eyes, and he just calmly stared back at me. “You don’t have to check up on me all the time. I’m sure there are other unstable women in town you can toy with.” 

His mouth twitched because of the word I used, and shifted his weight from one leg to another. 

“Okay, I guess I deserved that,” he cleared his throat and my brow shot up. 

“You guess?” I scoffed and I smiled, shaking my head, turning away from him. He was oddly quiet. I did not know what to do with him. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze that did not falter, he kept it on me. 

After that crash he did not speak to me for days, he avoided me. It’s been almost a week since it all happened and he was pulling strings from behind. I was stranded, my cars residing at Mr. Simons' place... When I called him he used words like “you should rest anyway, Ms. Seraphina…” over the phone which should have rang a bell… I should have suspected it was the sheriff who was controlling my life from the background. 

“Ms. Barlow, I–” 

“Aren’t you tired of that?” I asked looking back at him and he froze. He seemed confused about what I meant. I let a faint smile slip my lip. “If I remember correctly, you managed to call me Seraphina a few times now…” I said as I grabbed my tools and tossed them in a box. I was too tired to work anyway. 

“I don’t hear you call me anything else, but Sheriff either,” he said casually, and his more informal way of speaking caught me off guard. I looked at the handsome man, blue eyes following me, his hand raking his beard. 

“That’s different… I’m not even sure, what is your first name, sir," I said and he raised his brow, and I scoffed. “Not that I would ever be allowed to call you that, am I?” 

He let a bark of  a laugh out, and shook his head. Then his eyes slowly took in my frail form, then the environment I was standing in. Box of paint, toolbox, half dried, half painted posts. 

“Are you still renovating?” he asked with raised brow.

“I'm trying to catch up with all the things needing to be done,” I put the paint on the little bench and straightened back up with a little huff. 

“I’m guessing you spent more time painting pentagrams than your porch,” he said with a condescending tone, and sure enough that prompted me to roll my eyes and skyrocketed my blood pressure.  

“Did you seriously come all this way to insult me? Again?” I shook my head. I was dully annoyed with the big man. Confused, and angry… At least for a while he was consistent with his assholeness, then consistent with his distance. But now all he was just confusing… And I hated being confused, feeling stupid and lost.

I noticed the clench of  his jaw, and he stiffened. 

“No, Ms. Barlow, I, uh…“ he sighed and I watched him intently.  He rubbed his face awkwardly, tension in his body, but he would not tell me why he came. He could not come up with a good excuse either. 

I shook my head, I was done being patient with him, “You can leave, Sheriff, really. I’ll be fine.” I said and my legs took me to my door, but as I reached for the knob, I had to grab onto the wall. I guess anger did not really work well together with my concussion – headache and dizziness working inside my skull. 

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I heard his heavy steps on my porch. He was beside me before I could react, grabbing me so I would not fall, but I just pushed on his chest, trying to get away from him. 

“No, leave me alone,” I mumbled and pushed the door in, but the dizziness grew and I kept stumbling, walking into chairs and the doorframe. To my surprise he followed me inside, his scent mixing into the disoriented world of mine. He grabbed me, and I shut my eyes as he turned, almost falling as the pain grew. 

“Sit down, goddamit, you just hurt yourself more.” His deep voice came too close, I could feel the heat of his body. I wanted to tell him to let me be… Not that he would listen. He never really respected my requests… 

He pulled a chair out for me at the dining table, gently guiding me down. I sat, and his fingers slipped from me, and I heard him move around my kitchen, opening the tap, then his steps came closer once again.

The pounding ache slowly started to subdue, but I did not dare to open my eyes until he spoke. 

“Ms. Barlow…” his voice still gruff but almost forced it to be softer. I opened my eyes blankly, staring at him through my lashes as I was afraid that stabbing pain would return. 

He was squatting in front of me, his tall frame almost making me and him the same height. His eyes tried to catch mines, my breathing was brisk, heavy. 

“Here, drink,” he softly touched my hand and placed the cold glass between my fingers. They were shaking, and I noticed his blue eyes resting on them a second too long. I took a sip, then another, slowly letting that headache go as my blood pressure probably lowered. 

“I did not mean to upset you, I’m sorry." he said softly, and I felt his fingers rest against my calf. I averted my gaze, placing the cup down. His presence was too much. 

“You did not upset me,” I mumbled although I felt heat creep up my neck. The warmth of his palm pushed against the material of my overalls, then as if he noticed he was too close, he pulled his fingers away, placing them on his knee instead. 

“Now, don’t lie,” he said almost playfully and I glared at him. “You never shut up, I’ll give you that. Don’t start lying now.” He let a small smile rest on his lip, and I was wondering if he was crazy or something. His mood swings definitely freaked me the fuck out. “You should not stress yourself out” 

“That is rich coming from you,” I scrunched my nose, as I glared daggers at him, feeling anger rise in me again. And then our eyes met, and his lashes fluttered. His blue eyes widened, then he cleared his throat, snapping his head away, breaking eye contact. 

I raised my brow at his reaction. I could not tell what he was seeing that made him react this way.

He stood, towering again, the softness gone, the lawman mask snapped back into place. I looked up at him confused. Hell, he definitely had some trouble with his emotions. 

“Don’t lift a damn brush until you’re steady. I’ll send Riley by.” he said, voice becoming hard again, as if talking to a disobedient child. I shook my head. “He’ll help you with the porch lamps too.” 

“I didn’t ask for your or his help.” I stood up as he was already turning his back on me, and he looked back. 

“Just once, Ms. Barlow, listen to me.” He ordered me, voice steel. My jaw clenched and I looked at him with disdain, not even trying to hide it. He was shaking his head and he walked towards the door. 

As he grabbed the handle, then he froze for a second. His big frame full of tension.

I watched him, as he was deep in thought for another second or so, then he spoke again. 

“It’s John, by the way,” he glanced at me once more, then he bid good bye and left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving his scent in the air. 

His visits never seemed to bring me peace, nor resolution. 

Only more confusion, and emotional strain.

– – —  – – – – - – – 

The sheriff was a control freak. An annoying prick who treated me like a kid. 

And he was on my ass all the goddamn time. 

Sure, Johnny came over a lot. But it was the sheriff who returned my ladder – which was confiscated by Johnny, although I was sure it was not his idea… 

At first, for only fifteen or twenty minutes at a time – the sheriff helping me change light bulbs in my porch lights, getting the old stained glass covers down and back up after I cleaned them.  He didn’t offer, he just stated what he was gonna do, and then he did it. And afterward he would look at me and order me inside, telling me in a gruff tone to rest. He barely spoke… Only short barks of orders or softer thank you-s – but never too soft, he could not let me think he was a decent human being. 

He also commented on the state of my porch – how inadequate I was in painting, glaring at me, almost hauling me off the ladder when I wanted to paint the top of the posts.

He held my arms with iron fists – although, he was more careful with me as of late… His touch no longer left a bruise, and when he pushed me from one place to another he was utterly careful… And I hated to admit it, but he did help a lot. Spending almost hours at my house after, I assumed, after his work hours. 

“I’m only dizzy when you piss me off,” I glared up at him, as his hands rested on my upper arms, gently steering me to the side, so he could climb the ladder. That was his reasoning… He was afraid I’d get dizzy and would fall from the top of the ladder. 

“You’re telling me I have an effect on you?” His brow arched, smug as hell, though his voice carried that lazy drawl he used when he was testing me. He grabbed ladder, stepping on the lowest step, thick thighs flexing in his work jeans – oh yeah, he looked hot as fuck all the time. He came in work boots, jeans, and checkered button downs, and he also sported a black beanie as the weather turned a bit chillier. I just watched him, standing to the side in my oversized overalls with a knitted sweater underneath and a scarf on. He told me I was the embodiment of a safety hazard. 

“On my gag reflex surely,” I rolled my eyes, reacting to the most fuckboy-ish sentence I’d ever heard his mouth leave. I caught myself too late. I touched my lips with wide eyes, and snapped my head to him. But he seemed oddly amused, the side of his eyes crinkling as he registered my mortified expression. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it, I uh, it’s just a… reflex.” 

“Reflex?” he raised his brow, looking down at me and his mouth twitched but not fully into a smile. And a dangerous flicker slipped behind those blue eyes. “Do people often talk to you this way?” 

“Men,” I corrected him and his lashes fluttered, jaw ticking just for a second. “And yeah, they do,” I mumbled as I looked for another sandpaper and walked away to work on the stairs’ railing. He did not press further, but his fingers wrapped around the paintbrush a bit tighter as he started to paint the top of my columns.

I’d catch myself staring at his wrist flexing, his shirt pulling across his shoulders. Then forced myself to look back at the damn railing before I gave him the satisfaction of knowing I thought he looked good… Like yeah, he looked good, always, somehow, even when he was in misery… But I wasn’t gonna let him know about that… His ego was too big anyways. 

I bet not only his ego. 

I hissed but I tried to ignore the whispers (usually), and just continued on with the railings, fighting my mind as I kept wondering how those muscles moved under his skin, when there was no material straining on them… Dirty thoughts, seriously… I most definitely wasn’t gonna confess those to Father Benson.

He got off the ladder and walked to the next column. We worked in silence. There wasn’t much to say, although I caught him staring a few times. For just a few seconds, he was rather sneaky in his ways, but his gaze warmed my back whenever I wasn’t looking at him. And when I turned? I caught his eyes snapping back ahead to the post. 

Sometimes I gave up and just watched him work. I got too tired too fast, dull pain sneaking up on me if I did not take breaks regularly. Yet… He never commented or insulted me because of it. He just seemed oddly relieved and content that I sat down on my stairs for a breather, but he still stole glances as if to check I was okay.

I rested my head against the railing, then my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and I saw him stop. I had to take it – Samantha – I stood up and looked at him, as he glanced down at me with raised brow – not rude, just interested. As if asking if I was alright? 

“Just a work call… sorry, I’ll be back.” I said in a very calm civil way, and he just stared at me and nodded, waiting for a second before he turned his attention back to the task in hand. We didn’t always argue, we had our moments where we just informed each other. It was a weird thing, a very weird dynamic. 

I was talking in the kitchen, Samantha was beaming about how much the book was a hit with the ARC readers, writing reviews and hyping it up. I just hummed along and before I knew it I was preparing two mugs of tea. 

“That’s amazing, Sam, thank you,” I chuckled, but my voice was a bit tired. She calmed a little, but I still heard her smile. 

“How are you, darling? Rosa tells me you are still having headaches…” she said and I shook my head, pouring honey into the mugs, then shutting the lid back again. 

“It’s fine… I’m going back to the doc next week. She said it was possible to have these symptoms for a week, week and a half.” I shook my head and watched the tall man through my window. My brow twitched – he checking my handiwork on the railing, leaning down, doing inspections like a supervisor. “But I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, you sound more annoyed,” she laughed and I searched for little teaspoons to dissolve the honey in the hot water. “Is the sheriff of yours over there?” 

“Tell Rosa to stop reporting to you on my life.” I rolled my eyes and she laughed. 

“You're not telling me anything! I have to gather information from a trusted source,” I could hear she was leaning back in her chair, an amused tint slipping into her cheerful tone. 

“Well, if you want to know, this man is annoying as fuck,” I cursed and she gasped playfully. “He orders me around, turns up randomly at my house to repair shit, he takes everything out of my hands, like, he took a hammer! A hammer, Sam! It weighs like a kilo, I would not die from lifting that,” I huffed and she chuckled. 

“Oh, dear…” 

“And like, he made Johnny confiscate my ladder, and HE brought it back. Like, as if I’m a child or something,” I grumbled, keeping the phone against my ear with my shoulder as I removed the little tea pouches. “A pet whose keeper is taking care of her. It’s aggravating. Humiliating.” I was leaning against my counter, glaring at the two mugs. 

“I think you are reading the situation wrong, darling,” she tried to calm me down and a deep sigh rippled through my lips. “I think he is trying to make up for his shitty behaviour, can’t it be?”

“By annoying me?” 

“By taking care of you,” her voice chuckled. “Based on what I’m gathering, I think he wants to protect you.” 

A beat of silence passed and I bit my lip, then shook my head. No, I could not let myself believe that… It would have been more painful. 

“He does not care for me, Sam… He’s just a control freak.” 

“You would not talk about him this much if you believed that…” she said and that shut me up. These women in my life, why were they all so wise? I rolled my eyes. 

“Sure, whatever…” I sighed and I could hear her smile as she talked. 

“Go, try to act like a decent human being with him. Not the temptress, not the troublemaker, just you.” 

“Ah, Sam, I really love you, but sometimes I wish you were just feeding my delusions,” I grunted as I grabbed the two mugs. 

“Not my style, darling.” she chuckled and I heard her stand up, take a few steps in her office. “Alright, talk to you later? And if you kiss him just so you know I will–” 

“Bye Sam, love ya.” I talked over her and ended the call. I sighed, dropping the phone to the little cupboard beside my front door, then picked up the mug I put down to open the door. 

I shook my head and I stepped on the porch, his tall frame straightened from beside the stairs and I froze. We stared at each other then I averted my eyes and reached the tea towards him. 

He did not move for a second, then I heard his heavy steps on the creaking floorboards. When I felt his presence I looked up at him, then at the mug. He didn’t move for a second, like he wasn’t sure the tea was really for him. Then his big hand wrapped around the mug, swallowing it whole. What seemed like a big mug to me, turned into a toy in his hands. Sometimes, I forget how big of a man he was… He did not seem this big when I was fighting him with words. 

 “Thanks,” he muttered – quieter than usual, almost like the word came hard for him to pronounce. I noticed that about him… Even when I was offering him the tea at the station, he hesitated as if he did not know what to do when people offered him something. When he did not need to ask for things, or did not need to think about how he was about to repay it. I wondered if people ever offered to help him just because… 

“I put honey in it,” I mumbled and I brushed past him, shoulder gently touching his arm, only for a second as I passed him to sit on the stairs. He did not speak for a second, then he moved too. He did not sit beside me, he just leaned against the railing, his big hands cradling the warm mug.

We just stayed there in silence, the breeze pushing the locks around my face, and I tried to keep my eyes on the nature. The colorful leaves, the cracked asphalt beside Price’s pick-up truck, the vines on my fence. I tried my hardest not to look up at him, not to stare at his big hands and now exposed forearm. He had paint on the back of his fingers.

“Everything is alright?” his deep voice arrived and my eyes snapped up at him. His blues were already resting on me, and I must have looked a bit confused, because he signalled with his head. “At work, I mean.” 

“Oh! Oh, yeah,” I smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corner. “It was just Sam.” 

“The loud blonde woman from the city?” He asked and sipped his tea. 

I raised my brow, “You stereotype everyone?” 

“It’s easier this way, clears up confusion.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, but there was a little smile playing on his lips that he did not let fully develop. 

“And what did you call me? The witch with the haunted house?” I raised my brow and he actually snorted a bit, fighting a smile spreading on his lips. 

“Barlow-girl was more than enough.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s disappointing,” I let myself smile and he raised a brow, but I just sipped my tea, not elaborating. 

“Gary said your Camaro is done.” He said all of the sudden and my brow twitched. I turned towards him, scowling as he acted it was a normal thing to do.

“Why did he tell you that?” 

“Because I asked?” I looked at me, matching my “duh” tone and I raised my brow. 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” 

“You’re so juvenile,” I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. 

“That’s a brave sentence coming from you, Ms. Barlow.” 

“Agh, seriously, stop it.” I groaned and our eyes met. “You are only using my name to mock me. Or remind yourself that I come from a troublesome family.” And my own sentence hit a nail in my head and I realized that must have been it! He kept using it, to remind himself that I was a Barlow… A girl not worth the trouble… A girl he should keep at an arms length.

He shook his head, but he almost laughed as he stared at me, as I was overthinking my whole life. 

“You are a weird girl, Ms. Barlow,” he said I looked at him with raised brows, but his phone beeped. He put his mug down, and sighed and his blue eyes gained a serious tint. “Have to go…”

I watched him move, his big form appeared next to me on the stairs but he walked down a few steps so as not to tower over me so much. It surprised me, he paid attention to not crowding me.

“Thank you for the tea,” he nodded, then he waved towards my porch. “I’ll drop by on Saturday to finish it.” 

“You really don’t need to.” I said and he smirked. 

“Too late, already decided,” he said and his light demeanor completely caught me off guard. I watched his big frame move through my garden gate – it creaked. He stopped and looked back at me with a serious look, moving the gate with raised brow and I just could not help but laugh. Big smile spread on my lips, laughter bubbled behind the hand I pushed on my lips. I knew that look on him: that was his new project. 

Then he left, and I was still smiling. 

But then all the old memories of him, his violence, his words hit me at once. Like a cold shower, body shivering under all the negativity that somehow jumped me. The tea suddenly turned bitter, and the smile slowly slipped. The gate creaked again in the breeze, and it sounded less like him leaving… and more like a warning.

Had no idea what caused it, that heavy, disgusting feeling sliding around my ribs like a parasitic worm, but bloody hell… 

The realization hit hard. 

I could not afford falling for him. 

Because falling for him wouldn’t just hurt…

…it would ruin me. 

– – – – – – – --

I went to town after the doc cleared me. No more dizziness, nausea or headaches. My lips and that little nick on my nose was still healing, but otherwise I was alright. 

It was a colder day, a bit greyish. Johnny walked with me, his arm over my shoulder lazily as I read a pamphlet the doctor gave me after she heard I was a vegetarian. I was drawing my brows together. 

“What, Phiny? Not to your liking?” Johnny casually plucked the pamphlet from my hands and I looked up at him. He always had that smile on his lips and softness in his eyes when he looked at me. I adored him but we were both painfully aware how this relationship of ours was only platonic because of various reasons we did not have to say out loud – we just… knew. 

“They could tell me that my nose will fall off, and I still would not eat meat… Like I cannot take that in my mouth, it’s disgusting.” I had a visceral reaction to the smell and consumption of meat, but like, I would never shame others… I did not care, not my place to judge anyways. It was something personal, a preference. 

“Hm, I could say something dirty to that…” he grinned and I was pushing my finger into his rock hard tummy. 

“But you can keep that thought inside your dirty mind.” I rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms, but he just gently pinched my face with his hand that rested on my shoulder. 

“Come on, Phiny, smile a little. The sheriff’s broodyness is rubbing off on you.” I swatted his hand away and I grumbled. 

“Shut up, I’m not broody!” 

“Yeah, well, whatever helps you sleep, Sunshine.” He mocked me, and I pushed my elbow into his side but he just laughed. 

He held the door open to me at the diner and I was still glaring at him, threatening to hex him – he was just laughing saying I was cute. Sometimes I could just strangle him. Then my eyes shifted to the back of the diner. 

Oh, the urge to turn around was heavy. 

Officer Riley and Garrick sat there in their uniform, Rosa was leaning against the booth, a take away cup in her hand, and the Sheriff was placing three mugs on the table. Johnny was quick to shout ‘hi’ at them, and they all turned – seeing us, Johnny’s arm still draped over me. And I caught it, that darkness in not one but two broody man’s eyes. I clocked it, but said nothing, just let Johnny drag me to them, as the sheriff's jaw was still playing, mouth pulled into a strict line. 

“What did the doc say?” Rosa asked as I stood beside her, her berry lips pulling into a hopeful smile.

“She says I’m fine.” Shrugged, then touched my chin. “Lip and nose probably needs another week to fully disappear.” I said with a small smirk. 

“It looks good on you though, as if you are dangerous.” she pushed me with her hip and I giggled. She always managed to make me smile.  

“Maybe I am.” I smiled and I wanted to turn to order my coffee, but a paper cup appeared in front of me. I looked at the big hand pulling back and my jade gaze snapped to him. I raised my brow, but he said nothing, just settled next to Johnny who was already across Officer Riley, talking his ears off. 

Rosa hid a chuckle in her cup and I did not know what to do. 

Was he seriously… What was his deal? 

I pressed my lips together, and glared at the cup as if it personally committed a crime against me. I pulled my lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing on the warm drink, jaw ticking quietly. Then without any words or second thoughts, I walked off – leaving it there, untouched. 

I could feel the tension that I left behind me, but I did not care. I just walked to the counter, placed my elbows on it, and smiled at the waitress, asking for my usual coffee order. 

She giggled, shaking her head as she started to prepare my drink. I looked at her with big eyes, curiosity got the better of me. “The Sheriff just asked for the same thing,” she poured the hot liquid into a cup and that made my jaw clench. 

Rosa walked beside me, and I looked up at her as her deep brown eyes were taking in my form. She wasn’t judging me, she was just trying to make sense of my reaction, of the whole situation.

“Don’t look at me like that, please.” I said quietly, taking the cup, leaving a bill on the counter that would cover my coffee. And something was off, something made my skin crawl, uncomfortable feeling coiling inside my tummy. 

“He got that for you,” she said softly, as I kept my eyes on the cup. I felt anxiety building inside me, not because of the sheriff, per say, but something… I glanced at the table, he was glaring in front of him, his jaw was tight, blue eyes holding a murderous gaze – I probably messed up, severed a tie, but he was so aggravating. Him getting me that coffee made me so irrationally mad! 

“I know.” I said and our eyes met, and she shook her head not understanding. 

He’s trying… Let him… 

I jerked my head to the side, and I was speaking already, ignoring the voice. “I have to go, I’m… sorry.” 

“No, Phina, wait–” Rosa’s worried voice barely reached me.

“I’ll call you, I just…” a shiver dashed down my spine and I felt the need to turn my head. Dark clouds were rolling in, and a familiar, beat up car rolled down the street. My mouth dried. “I have to go.” 

“Phina, what’s going on?” I heard her call after me, but I just grabbed the handle and left the diner hurriedly. 

My boots were quick on the warm asphalt, a storm was rolling in, I could feel it in my bones. Dread, anxiety, whispers barely out of reach as I kept walking fast towards my home. 

I needed that walk anyway, working off some nervous energy.

But there was something really wrong. 

Something I could not yet place. 

That night the storm was violent… I did not even finish my coffee from the diner, just poured it down the drain. I changed into a nightgown – light but long sleeved, cotton socks on my feet and a cardigan. I brew myself some calming tea, not that it would help… It just sat on my coffee table, turning bitter by the minutes.

I could not exactly explain my behaviour. I was agitated that I was so rude, but I really did not understand my motivation behind the actions. I just felt vulnerable, like a child at the moment he placed that cup in front of me. And I could not deny, it was a sweet gesture from the sheriff but it felt almost like another layer of control… 

I put my phone on dnd, and I was happy nobody wanted to check on me… I loved them, but I was an innately introverted person who just needed some time alone… It might have been overstimulation perhaps. I just kept wondering and beating myself up for being rude. 

Omen purred on my lap, he sensed my discomfort and tried its hardest to calm me, but I was still deep in thought. I just sat there, glaring at the television screen. I wanted to ground myself but nothing was working, not meditation, not a bath, nothing… I could not journal. I felt too jittery and overwhelmed to put my feelings into words. 

I was settled though. A warm blanket over me, as I decided to ride the storm out on my couch. The storm was rattling the windows, shaking my house. But it was not mother nature who scared me, it was the people outside… And I just could not shake the feeling that I saw that car before. The one, driving down the diner's street. 

A big thunder ripped through the darkness. The storm grew more violent by the minute, lightning and thunder following each other quickly. Then I heard barking. Loud, panicked, and even Omen raised his head, and it snapped me out of my hazy state.

I jumped from my sofa as I heard it again, and dashed to my window. I peaked outside and in the streetlamps I could still see it. Rain was falling heavily, wind was pushing garbage cans down the street, taking flower pots from windows, breaking branches off from tall trees, and there it was. 

A dog, leash stuck on something I could not quite make out from inside. But I was sure it was an animal. A golden retriever, its fur heavy from water, stuck to its body. He was loudly whining and pulling his head violently, trying to free himself from the big fallen branch under which the leash was stuck. 

I didn’t think, I just grabbed my wellington boots and I was out the door. The wind immediately ripped on my thin nightgown and sweater. I dashed down my stairs and the little road to my gates that was slamming violently open and shut in the wind. 

I quickly crossed the road, and the noise filled my head. The wind howling, the thunder, the cracking and snapping of branches. It was honestly scary, mixing with a panicked animal’s whines. 

I recognized him, it was one of my neighbors’ dog, but I knew, realistically, just one glance at that leash that I was not getting him. The only thing I could do was rescue, and then hoping he ran home into safety… 

He was still yanking his head, barking and whining loudly as I dropped on my knees beside him, water gushing around me, sock turning cold and wet immediately. My hair was drenched within seconds, and so does my clothes. I tried to pull the leash from under the branch but it wasn’t budging, and because the dog kept moving I could not get it  right. 

I gave up, and I just decided to grab its collar. I tried to talk to him, but the panic in those eyes, nothing was getting through to that dog. I found the hook and I clicked it off, the dog immediately, as it felt freedom, jumped back. I fell to my butt and I watched him run off in the heavy rain, turning a corner with the kind of speed I’ve not seen from a dog before. 

I cursed and threw the leash to the side, as I sat on the cold, wet ground cursing softly, trying to catch my breath. Then I felt it.

Two strong hands grabbing my waist, yanking me up to stand. 

I panicked and turned – the Sheriff. 

Violent rage in his eyes, as he was dragging me towards the house. 

I didn't even hear his car stop, or when he came up behind me. 

He pushed me through the door, and I immediately spun around as he slammed the door shut. 

“What the hell were you thinking!” He shouted at me, veins popping under his skin, getting all up in my face. 

Water is dripping from my nightgown, my sweater, water got into my shoes. I wasn’t paying attention to him, just yanked them off, my warm socks now soaked with rainwater. I sent him a glare – he looked unfairly good, shirt sticking to his torso as he yanked off his soaked sweater, jeans darker than before. 

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. 

“Don’t turn away from me,” he followed me into my kitchen as I threw my cardigan with a loud splash to the ground, while I was fighting the urge to scream back at him. What an ass. 

“I was–” I shook my head but he cut me off. 

“I thought you finally collected yourself, but there you are again, outside, like a lunatic!” He grumbled, his voice gravel as he was scolding me, but I spun around walking towards him. 

“Just let me expl–” my hands closed into a fist, glaring up at him. He was too tall, too big, and I was painfully aware of the size difference. 

“You could’ve gotten hurt, do you understand that?” he growled, his volume making me shake, but I finally found my voice.

“What?! You rather me leave that poor dog, possibly strangling himself?” I got a few words out, my volume getting him. 

“Yes!” he shouted at me, and his eyes were furious, but there sat, there I say, a flicker of fear? “Yes, when there are trees falling over!” He glared down at me, his piercing blue eyes snapping between mines. 

“I would never let someone get hurt when I can help.”I shook my head, and took a hurried step towards him, pushing my finger towards his chest, but not touching him. “And you wouldn’t either.” 

He growled and he got dangerously close, his tone shifting, his jaw clenched as he was towering above me. His breathing was dragged, voice turning husky, gravel, strained with fury.

“Why did you move here, huh?” he shook his head, water dripping down his face as his scent mixed with the rain. His darkened blue eyes did not leave mine as I glared back at him with just as much stubbornness and strength as he was looking at me. “Why did you move into this goddamn town, making everybody’s life more difficult?” 

“I had no choice,” I snarled, not elaborating. Not even sure if he would have listened if I explained to him why I wanted to move… 

“Yes you did! You could’ve just sold this goddamn house, then we wouldn't be here once again, you doing some stupid shit. You could have just stayed in your city, practiced your eccentric way, let me fucking rest,” he was making me walk backward with each and every painful statement until my hip hit the counter. I would not give up, and I snapped my eyes back to his.

“Well, God, sorry, John!” pushed heavy on his first name, snarling the words, making his nostrils flare. “Sorry, for not being easy to stomach.” I looked at him, his name slipping from my tongue as a curse. “Do you know what your problem is, John? That you’re a controlling asshole. Ever since I came to town, I have been nothing but pleasant, and you! you called me difficult, crazy, a whore. Everything I felt insecure about you made sure to jab at. Well, guess what!”

“Barlow,” he warned but I cut into his words. 

“No, you’re gonna listen to me for once! You are a fucking asshole, Price. That’s what you are. A controlling, old man, who cannot deal with a woman who doesn't fall onto her knees for you.” I shouted at him, shaking from anger, jabbing my finger into his solid chest, as his hands curled into a tight fist.

“Shut up…” he gritted his teeth, his blue eyes boring into mine, so much anger, so much darkness and emotions mixing in them, I probably misread something. 

“What? Hit a nerve?” I raised my brow, and his jaw ticked, eyes narrowed on me.

“You little–” he snarled and started to reach towards me. My eyes widened, immediately pulling back. 

“Don’t touch me!” My word cut the air as I wrapped my arms around me shaking my head. He was still too close, his hand extended towards me, but he froze. My breathing shook, and I was shaking as the clothes turned fucking cold on me.

The air was heavy with tension, our breath mixing as neither of us completely understood what was going on. Thunder crashed somewhere in the distance, lightning exposing our bodies in the stuffy kitchen. Our breathing mixed, then I spoke again, voice starting low.

“You have to stop… I cannot take it anymore. All you do is humiliate me, and look at me like I’m a useless, incapable child–” 

“Ms. Barlow…” he breathed above me as I kept my eyes on his heaving chest, the wet material of his shirt sticking to his skin, forcing my eyes away as I continued on.

“And you use that fucking name!” My jade gaze snapped to his face, tilting my head back completely as I pressed my hands on his solid stomach trying to create distance between us. “You try to gain control over me, Price, but you cannot! And I don’t want you helping, I don’t want you to get me fucking coffee, I don’t want you to tell me what I can or cannot do!” I glared up at him, feeling tears dwell in my eyes as his blue eyes darkened with every word, his fingers flexing and shutting as if not sure to grab me or not.

“I’m not a child!” I pushed my fist onto his chest, voice snapping, his raising too. 

“For sake sake, Seraphina, shut up!”

“No–” 

His lips slammed violently against mine. My lashes fluttered close as his lips claimed mines with violent urgency, hands gripping my hip pulling me close as my fingers gripped his shirt.

It wasn't soft, his kisses were lips bruising. I bit his lip, and he made sure to balance the check. He was gripping my waist, pushing me backwards, until my hip was pressed up against the kitchen counter. His fingers were tearing at my see through silks, and then I felt him pull back, one hand under my thigh and with a quick movement he threw me onto the counter. He did not ask for permission, he did not need it, he just stepped between my legs, his big body forcing my already welcoming knees apart, and his lips were back on mine. My hands were up in his hair, tugging, and as he bit my lip, I drew long scratches on the side of his neck, making him growl into my mouth. 

His scent was maddening, and it should have been uncomfortable, our bodies sticking together in wet clothes, shivering but I just wanted him too much. His body was still warmer, making me push myself closer to him, and he did not fight it. He squeezed my thighs, one of his hands slipping behind me, pulling me into his body as the storm rattled the windows, the violent grumbles of thunder filling the dark kitchen. 

His lips moved on mine, slowing just a bit when the irony taste slipped my tongue. Maybe he felt it too, but he bit my lower lip anyways.

A small whimper snuck up my throat, noise traveling into his mouth. Out breathing mixed, hands travelled now slower, exploring skin that was once forbidden – maybe it still was.  

His hand slipped up on my bare thigh, leaving the skin burning under his big palm. The sensation surprised me, and as he was gripping my hip, I could not take it anymore. His lips moved on mine, his breathing fanning my face as we both stole air, and I was kissing him back too, but my hand pushed on his chest, pleading to stop, to wait… 

And he pulled back, obeying whatever I wanted, without a fight. 

We were both breathing heavily, I was clutching his wet shirt, my head against his collarbone. I looked down between us, his big hands on my barely covered legs, my nightgown pushed up to my hips barely keeping me decent, his fingers denting my pale skin. I felt his whole body tense, then I felt the pull, and he shook his head. 

I looked up at him slowly, but he would not meet my eyes, just kept shaking his head while gritting his teeth. He had to drag his hands off me, shaking his head once more making me confused as ever, and his voice… It was deep, broken, almost violent as he snarled, “Keep your fucking distant.”

My mouth dried, and my jade eyes shot up at him confused as he was walking backwards, his blue eyes darting away from me, almost forcing himself to look away, “What?” 

“Just do this one thing for me,” his voice grumbled, his blue eyes snapping to mine then away. “Keep the fuck away from me. Don’t come near me.” He snarled as he kept that scowl on his brows, grabbing his wet sweater in his walk, storming off. 

I stared after his disappearing figure.

I jumped as the front door slammed shut behind him, thunder ripping through the darkness once more. 

My heart was jumping all around, nightgown sitting on my body in indecent disarray, and Sheriff John Price just stormed out of my house. He kissed me, he touched me, the urgent heat of his body still lingered on mine but then… told me to stay away. 

I touched my stinging lips with a shaking hand. Blood glinted on my fingers – my lips broke again. 

But I could not care less… 

Cause, what the hell… 

What the hell just happen?

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading. Thank you all for the support and love!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry for the angsty shit, but like, we needed Seraphina standing up for herself for once... Anyways... I'm editing chapter 18! Many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 16]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: um, a lot. cursing, suggestion of sa, carcrash, slutshaming again? age gap, fucking scary man, mention of gun, allusion to violence and sa, injuries ugh you guys, i've been in and out of meetings, running around like a poisoned rat, barely sleeping. but like, i have such a sinful crush on a man lol -- too too old for me, like, i'm questioning my sanity old. lol. anywayssss, i hope you'll enjoy the chapter hehe :)

Did Not Know You Were Married

I left Briar Hollow.  

Late September, early October. Only for a few days – I had to go back to the city to take care of things. 

So, I packed my bags, Omen stayed with the Garricks – the only man he could stomach was Kyle. Johnny was dully disappointed. And Rosa promised she would water my plants and everything while I was gone. 

Then I left.

I drove myself to the same airport as I did with Sam, and I set out to fly back to the city, instead of driving for days. My publisher appreciated that. 

But as always, plans don’t go as planned. 

A few days turned into a week, a week turned into two, and I was still in the city. Missing Omen a lot. Missing the town, the people… I talked on the phone with Rosa, sometimes Johnny hijacked the call – taking the phone out of Rosa’s hand and whining and asking when I was coming back. Sometimes the phone got to Kyle, because his wife and his partner decided to get into a physical altercation in the middle of the diner. God, I missed them. 

The city was fun, a bit soul-killing, but um, fine… I was working with Samantha and her ladies at the office – they were pumped to get to know me. Had many questions about being a witch too, and I enjoyed working alongside women. There was something refreshing about not having to pay attention to what I say or do – men tend to misinterpret kindness as flirting if they did not feel the touch of a  woman in a while. But with these ladies? I actually helped them with some love spells, and had a fun time inserting myself into some office romances – as a magical adviser… Might have done some spell-work, a bit of glamour magick, but it was nothing scandalous.  

It was refreshing, going back to the city with fresh perspectives and a better nervous system. I went to visit museums in my free time. Getting art in antique shops and buying books secondhand – getting them all delivered via a company, since I refused to travel with the amount of stuff I bought… The trip reminded me how much of a city girl I was… But it also reassured me in my decision to move to Briar Hollow. 

I was different in the city… Hair naturally pushed itself to be straight (don’t ask), makeup became darker as if to ward myself from bad energies. Cheeks were not rounding in a smile as I passed people, earbuds in my ears, unfriendly expression on my face to signal: don’t even try.

And my clothes. Office clothes I dragged from the back of my closet. Full black attires, silk blouses, loose pants, pencil skirts, heels, sport jackets and a very classy, office appropriate bag that could accept my laptop and manuscript inside. 

I was someone different in the city. 

Not less, not better. 

Just different. 

– – – – – – – – 

I was driving back home in my Camaro. Oh, the woods were absolutely beautiful, and I loved every minute of it. The color, the scent, it was all completely and utterly beautiful. Autumn was the most wonderful season. And October? The best month (after August, naturally). 

The trees shook off their green leaves, changing their color into rich oranges and reds, playful yellow, and sombre brown. Driving down the highway was breathtaking. The scent of rain and the cold mixed as I drove on the wet asphalt to Briar Hollow. This time, I managed to arrive in town without being stopped by any police officers…

I turned the Camaro in the town hall’s direction. Rosa texted me that Omen was following her around lately, so I did not even stop at home, just went to the center, hoping to retrieve my cat from his hosts. 

I exited my car, heels clicking on the concrete. My pencil skirt was tight, I adjusted it subtly, and shook my silk blouse back to place. My hair was long, almost reaching my hips in its straight form. I walked up the stairs slowly, heels clicking in a slow, deliberate rhythm, phone in hand, pretty little purse on shoulder. A few men in suits held the door open for me, they failed to recognize me when I did not look like I was worshiping the devil. 

“Good afternoon,” I pulled my glasses off as I passed some ladies inside, their lashes fluttered.

“Ms. Seraphina! I did not even recognize you for a second!” one of them pushed their reading glasses on top of her head, as her other hand held some papers. 

“You look amazing,” another added and I just shook my head with a crooked smile.

“How kind of you, thanks.” I dashed up the stairs, heading towards Rosa’s section. 

Many turned – could see it from my peripheral vision – but my eyes were glued onto the doors and the numbers above. I visited Rosa a few times before, but she mentioned something about her hanging out near the majors office lately, so I headed that way. 

Then, my whole face softened into a smile. My eyes landed on a black fluff ball perched beside a big vase of roses. His green eyes noticed me and he was quick to dash over the tall cupboards, cheerfully talking, as the adults turned after him. He launched himself off the last shelf (after a quick butt shake), settling in my arms.

“Hey there, lovie,” I hugged his body to me, failing to notice the police officers. I pushed him a little back and scratched his jaw but my fingers tangled into something. “Look at you! So handsome, what do you have here.” I glanced at his neck as he started to purr loudly. Red velvet collar with a gold badge. Elegant letters carved into it: OMEN. I shook my head, already smirking, looking into those green eyes as I whispered, “You spoiled bis–” 

“Phina!” I heard Rosa’s voice and I turned to look at the crowd by the red rose-filled vase from where Omen dashed to me. 

I blinked with big eyes, looking surprised by the amount of familiar faces – Rosa, Kyle and the Sheriff. “Oh, hi!” a big smile grew on my lips, but all I got were some confused looks. And well, Rosa beaming, her heeled feet already moving into my direction. 

“Damn, what the hell did they do to you in that city?” Rosa was shaking her head, already opening her arms to hug me. Her sweet perfume enveloped me immediately. 

“Hey, Rosa,” I smiled and hugged her with one arm, since Omen was refusing to move from my arm.   

“Jeez, girl, your hair,” she shook her head but her dark berry lips were pulled into a smile. “You look hot, but this is a big 180.”

“Stop it,” I giggled cradling Omen, blush tainting my face. “I was in board meetings for hours, I had to look presentable for the big men,” I rolled my eyes as she laughed. 

 “Well, you certainly do,” she chuckled and that’s when I noticed the two officers. I blinked, Garrick was smiling and the Sheriff... He was a bit frozen in mid-motion, his blue eyes fixed on me, staring as if I was some outrageously flashy painting at a fine art museum. My lashes fluttered and I promptly averted my gaze. 

“Uh, you got him this?” my fingers fumbled with Omen’s new collar and my jade greens swam to Rosa’s deep browns. She noticed my blushing cheeks, and an all-knowing smirk appeared on her lips, but she did not comment. “He looks absolutely regal.” I added with a small chuckle. 

“Well, because he’s a goddamn diva,” Garrick walked up to us, and I smiled at him. “He refused to eat anything but the salmon you’ve left.” Then his calm eyes fell on Rosa. “And my sweet, darling wife decided to spoil him rotten some more.” 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes, then she looked at me. “Your cat loves veal and rabbit meat just so you know.” Rosa smirked, settling on Garrick’s side. 

“Great, now I have more trips to the butcher,” I chuckled and Omen purred. “Thank you, by the way, for keeping him entertained. I owe you a lot.” 

“He was a pleasant addition to the house,” Rosa smiled and Garrick nodded along. And just as he said that Omen hissed. I looked up, and sure enough, Sheriff Price was staring down at my slightly heavier cat.

“Hey, Sheriff,” I smiled, while Omen rolled his eyes and buried his head into the crook of my neck, his soft breath tickling my skin.

“Ms. Barlow,” His voice was lower than usual, almost careful. His blue eyes cut to mine – then down, over me once, fast, like he hadn’t meant to. His jaw flexed. “Clean up well, miss.”

“More appropriate, I guess.” I chuckled, tilting my head with a daring little smirk. “More to your liking?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, but his jaw ticked and he gulped, as if the words caught in his throat. When he did, it came rougher than intended. “Mm.” He cleared his throat sharply and shifted his weight, eyes dragging away to Garrick, voice hurried, barked like an order. “Ready to go, Garrick?”

“Yes, sir,” Garrick replied a little too quickly, his lips twitching. Rosa outright grinned, and even the assistant standing behind them looked like he was swallowing back a laugh. The officers were already saying their byes.

I chuckled to myself. Damn – if I’d known a pencil skirt and silk blouse could rattle the sheriff, I might’ve retired my witchy dresses sooner. 

Rosa’s eyes were fixed on me, as I glanced after her husband and the tall man beside him. I bit my lip gently, the Sheriff always looked good… But not seeing him for two weeks definitely made the first meeting more memorable. And definitely reminded me of how damn handsome he was.

“You’re heading home?” Rosa asked with a cheeky smile, and my eyes snapped back to her. 

“Yeah, I need to get back into my witch clothes,” I sighed as she grinned. “Sheriff seemed petrified.” I shook my head, and Omen dug his little claws into my shoulder. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Rosa laughed, and handed me back my house’s spare keys. “Welcome back home, love witch.” 

“Jesus,” I just giggled and walked off with my heavy cat. We were a black mass moving across the conservative, beige-colored city hall. The only color on the both of us was a little red collar, and my long reddish hair swaying like a warning against my black clothing.

I laid in my tub for a long time. Shamelessly, I was not about to make myself exit and go back to work. 

Rosa took good care of my house, put my letters on the coffee table, aired the rooms out, watered my plants. It was pleasant to come back home, the familiar scent of herbs, burnt candles and my perfume mixing with the house’s own scent. 

I poured oils onto my skin, Omen laying on the brim of the tub, carefully laid out between the candles and crystals. The water washed away the dirt and heavy energy of the city. Warm mist and incense swirling around in the dimly lit room. Oh, if there was heaven it probably felt like that. 

I thought a lot about work, trying to close it in me… I tend to grow anxious about my jobs, but it seemed a heavy period of my life was coming to an end. The book was in my publisher’s hands, the grimoire I’ve worked on over the summer was already up on a website and shipped off to book- and stationary stores. And the orders pouring in from Lindy were absolutely manageable. 

Life felt good at that moment… I felt actually relaxed for once. 

When I dried off, my hair immediately started to curl. I hummed along to my music, swaying my hips in the mirror as I grabbed my hairbrush. Omen lounged lazily – his rounder cheeks looking cute as ever. And I was in the zone, when someone spoke.

Standing at the door. 

The brush fell from my hand with a big clink against the sink, and sure enough: the old, from a horror movie bell, rang. I cursed as Omen was already padding out of the room. 

It was quite late, sun setting, and I did not expect visitors. Certainly not on the day I got back to the city… 

I dashed down the stairs, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor, clutching my towel to my chest as someone was ringing the bell again and again. 

“I’m coming!” I shouted as it felt urgent, the whispers were telling me to be quick! 

I grabbed the first things I could found – a camisole, a pair of silky shorts, half a sock... My hair was still wet, bouncing up in unruly curls as I was dragging the clothes on myself, then my water-soaked fingers grabbed the door handle and I ripped the door open. 

The door opened fast, the cold hitting me faster than the realization who was standing on my porch. My eyes widened. 

It was really a weird situation, where I was hardly in any pajamas, and two police officers were standing in my door in full gear. Both of their eyes landed on me.

“Um, hi?” I broke the silence as we stared down at each other. My heartbeat fast from all the running, the heat and scent of my bath still clinging to my skin.  

Officer Riley and… Sheriff Price stood at my door. 

“Good evening, Ms. Barlow,” the deep voice of the sheriff twisted around me. His gaze shifted just for a second and I grew aware of what I was wearing – well, more of what I wasn’t. I crossed my arms nonchalantly in front of my breasts, although internally I was screaming. I swear, the sheriff saw more of me than the dudes I’ve dated in the city. “May we come in?” 

“Uh, of course, sir,” I stepped to the side and let them walk in. The two tower of men entering my space. I shut the door, and moved quickly to my couch.

I quickly grabbed my oversized, white button down, and pulled it around me. Damp hair immediately tainting it, the hem of the shirt grazing against my mid-thighs. I felt his gaze on my back, and I still crossed my arms, but I tried to smile. 

“So, how can I help you?” I turned, the man's shirt wrapped around me, although that condemning look in the sheriff’s eyes… I guess, the extra piece of material did not help the situation. 

“We are here because of the woods on your property,” he cleared his voice as I noticed Officer Riley’s scanning my home methodically. He only seemed to falter for a second when his eyes caught the faint lines on the floor… Remnants of my last ritual, some runes… Nothing special. He was calm and he continued to walk around my living room, more specifically closer to my bookshelf. 

“What about it?” my jade eyes darted back to the steady blue one. The sheriff was looking down at me, professional, yet his lids were lowered, his voice was too deep… It made me feel funny in my stomach. I tried to stay calm and steady under his heavy gaze, but my bare feet kept shifting. 

“We are asking you to signs this permission slip to conduct an investigation on your grounds,” he held a stack of papers in his hands.

“My grounds? The woods are not private property…” I looked at him surprised. 

“Well, as it turns out the Barlow family owned acres of the land, therefore, we need to ask you to sign these…” he put the papers on my coffee table, leaning down beside me – his jaw ticked and his nostrils flared just for a second… could not decide wether he was enjoying my body oils or not – then pulled back. I leaned forward to pick it up, feeling his eyes on me. 

I was still bent , but my eyes snapped back into his. 

“What would that… investigation entail?” I raised my brows and his mouth twitched, slipping from his formal style.

“Are you not trusting the police department, Ms. Barlow?” 

I glared at him, and I straightened up, material slipping up on my bare thighs. I noticed his fingers twitching into a tight fist. His eyes narrowed, as if it took him tremendous effort not to stare straight at my naked skin. Oh, he was really just a man, wasn’t he… 

“Trust has nothing to do with this,” I said, keeping the eye contact, then I smirked. “I’ll read it, sign it, and drop it off at the station. Would that be acceptable to you, sir?” I blinked at him, using the voice I used at the meetings. That made his jaw clench so much, I thought he might break a tooth. 

“Plenty. Thank you, Ms. Barlow.” He forced a nod and my smirk would not pass.

“Officer Riley,” I said calmly and the big man in the corner froze. I turned around, seeing his finger on the spine of a big leather bound book. Small star in a circle on the lower part of the spine. I smiled sweetly as his big brown eyes landed on me. “You might not want to do that.” 

“Of course, Ms. Seraphina.” he said obediently and I smiled at him, as he slowly continued his walk around my living room.

That big, harsh cover held a tender heart, I was sure about that. And I enjoyed having the upper hand – not over Riley, but over Price. The big bad sheriff has to come to me for a favor. It was fun to watch him squirm, having him pushed from his controlling throne. 

Emperor, my ass… He came to the home, the castle of the Queen of Wands, and it was fun to watch him assume the position of someone who had to humble himself…

I glanced up at the sheriff, his stormy blues on me, a wondering look behind the colorful irises. Ah, I was the softy… One look at that man, and I was a goner, giving him forgiveness on a platter, completely forgetting all the harsh words – well, more or less… 

I sighed, and my voice came out softer than I’d intended, “I'll make sure you’ll get it by tomorrow, sir.” 

He nodded, placing his hat back on his head, hiding his eyes in the process.

“Would appreciate it,” his voice gravel, hands grabbing onto the vest as if that would save him. He was getting ready to leave. “We won’t rob you of your time anymore, Ms. Barlow.” 

I just nodded and smiled at them. Officer Riley arrived back next to his superior, and as they left, I waved to Officer Riley and he waved back -- making me smile, almost giggling at his sweetness. The Sheriff looked at him as he wasn't believing it, eye brows arched, lips pressed into a confused line.

It made me chuckle. 

– – – – – – – – 

I decided to mess with the Sheriff's mind some more. I drove around town in the morning, running errands, getting the order list from Lindy, checking my po box, etc. And I stopped by the station after I was done with everything. It was a slow morning, and the front desk lady told me I can actually just go, knock on the Sheriff’s door. 

I thanked her and walked to the door, heels clicking softly on the linoleum floor. The door was ajar and before I knocked, I caught a glimpse of the man inside, buried in paperwork. My fist stopped in mid air, and my lips parted. 

His eyes were fixated on the paper in front of him, his lip covered by one of his hands as he rested his head in his palm. The scent of his cologne and smoke twirled around in the office, making me want to remain in that door all day long, just enjoying his unique mixture of scent I grew to associate with safety…

His shoulders seemed bigger against the office-chair he was sitting on, arms big, muscles moving under his skin as he was writing something, then I froze up. 

“Are you going to stand there all day long,” my eyes fluttered to him, and his stormy blues looked up to me calmly, being absolutely collected, no sign of any nervousness like the last time we spoke. “Ms. Barlow?” 

“Oh, no, sorry, Sheriff, Price” I blinked rapidly, then smiled at him, tilting my head. “You just seemed to be deep in work.” 

“I was,” he said curtly and my mouth twitched. 

Jesus, you can at least try to be kind, you prick… 

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me as I was still in his door, holding papers in my hands. “How can I help you, Ms. Barlow?” 

Ah, there it was. Ms. Barlow at the end of every sentence. At this point I started to debate whether to charge him for its usage… 

“I was, uh, reading through that warrant, or I really don’t know what this is…” I said blinking at him shyly as he raised his brow, and I cleared my throat. I felt a blush creep up my neck under his heavy gaze. His eyes were piercing, once again, very direct with the staring. “I wanted to sign it, but I don’t understand half of your police jargon, and I was wondering if you could help me make sense of it…” 

The volume of my voice completely disappeared by the time I was finished. I was looking at him, as he was still staring, arms on his chair’s armsrest, a few fingers covering his lips as he was spreading his thighs behind the table. He was just staring and it felt like a game.

But it was his game, and I was unaware of the rules…It felt as if he was testing me, whether I’d fold or not… If I'd submit to him, or stand his stare. 

I folded of course, my lashes fluttering, gaze finding a sport on the heavily filled office cabinet. 

Stutter left my lips. “Or… I, I can go, sir, sorry for–” 

“Sit.” Was all he said, my eyes snapping back to him. He pointed at the chair across his desk. 

I gulped. I slowly walked inside, leaving the door ajar again. My heart was thumping loudly, and as I moved I felt his eyes on me, although I was more occupied with not falling. Like, how stupid I was! I came here to make him nervous, but it seemed it was the other way around… 

It was as if entering the lion’s den. I sat on the chair, crossing my legs, folding my hands on my lap, the papers wrinkling in between my fingers. 

I looked up at him, blinking, and he raised his brow but an amused smirk was playing on his lips hiding behind his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, so…” I placed the few pages long document down on his table. It had little, lilac sticky notes – quite a few actually – marking all the places where there was a statement I did not understand. I glanced at him, as he raised his brow, but did not comment on my lilac stickies. “I don't, I mean…” 

I was flipping through pages, and I heard him sigh and with the creak of his chair he was on his feet. He was moving slowly and he finally settled next to my chair, he leaned down and I froze up. 

I felt his breath on my ear and I blinked rapidly at the words that made, well, not much sense to me -- allegedly. He was too close. I pushed my thighs together in the loose pants, heels dangling in nervous tremors. 

“Show me the parts that are unclear,” he murmured and god, I almost fell to the ground… He was talking to me softly, voice gravel, deep, but goddamn… God really had favorites, and I must have been one of them, listening to him just talk, not scold me this time… 

“Okay, yeah, so this one here, sir…” I pointed at a paragraph, and slowly, methodically we went over everything I tagged. 

He explained softly, without the stupid multiple lines long sentences… Although, for a split second his voice faltered as I tucked a shorter lock behind my ear… But he was back to his authoritative self just in seconds, and it was hard to pay attention to him. His scent was maddening… and his closeness.

He decided it was a good idea to have one of his hands on the back of my chair, the other on the desk beside the papers. He made me mark off details, rewrite and specify things that would be more beneficial to me, and I felt as if I was in a teacher pet situation… 

I was chewing on the back of my pen as I read through what we’ve discussed, trying to find that last part that lost the sticky note. 

The back of the pen slipped on my lips, nervously chewing on it, but not leaving dents. I felt a few locks move around my face as a soft breeze swept through the room, and I occasionally, while still searching, glanced at his big hands connecting into big, veiny forearms, then biceps… His whole body was just up in my aura, heat slipping underneath my skin, the fume of his cigar lingering on his clothes mixed with that woodsy scent; I digress… and while I enjoyed his closeness – sadly, really, he was an asshole, but a hot one… – it was hard to concentrate beside him. And again, I closed my lips around the pen.

Fucking hell, stop it… – a voice. His.

My back stiffened, and I looked up at him blinking rapidly. I caught his eyes, not on my face… They were either on my neck or my lips… But they immediately snapped back to my jade irises when he heard me speak. 

“I’m sorry?” I asked and he looked down at me confused. He was so close… His face, it was so easy to study it. His beard, his lips, his scowl and that piercing blue gaze under heavy eyelashes. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathed and that made my cheeks flush, I shook my head and scolded myself… I thought he said it. “I think… I mean, this is the part I wanted to–” 

I raised the paper and as I held it, his big hand appeared beside mine. My eyes widened as he was basically grabbing onto my fragile fingers, steadying the shaking paper. My heart was ready to break out of its bony cage, and my eyes widened as I heard him mumble the words beside me… He was basically whispering police jargon in my ears as if it was dirty talk…

But sweet heavens! His hand was so warm! I’ve been so cold lately, fingers shaking and icey, but his hand was hot like a furnace. Mixed with his scent, I wondered what it’d be like to cudd–

“What is your problem with this part, Ms. Barlow?” His deep voice was softly circling me, and I tried my hardest not to shake, gently squeezing my thighs together to stop the tremors.

“Well, I uh, it  just sounded to me that even if your case went cold, the investigation would not be closed. And if the investigation is not closed, the officers would still have access to my property, which means,” I turned my head and his clam eyes were already resting on my face. “I’d never have my peace.” 

I gulped as I finished. He did not speak. His gaze switched between my eyes, then very slowly he pulled his lips into a smirk. 

“What would be to your liking then, miss?” 

“I don't want to hinder your investigation, Sheriff Price,” I turned fully with my body, and tiled my head a little, and he seemed amused, but did not move away even though there was no denying. We were too close for an appropriate office talk. 

“I don’t want to sign my property away,” I said confidently, and he finally smirked. He held his hand out, as if asking me for the pen, and grabbed my papers. He moved, his body hunching over the table as he moved away from me – I never realized I was holding my breath the whole time. 

“How about you give the town temporary access, hm?” he glanced back at me, my pen between his long fingers. I forced myself to look into his eyes. “This contract should be renewed every, let’s say, quarter of a year? It’s more paperwork, more signing, but you can withdraw the access basically any three months,” he said and that sounded like a good deal. I blinked at him. 

Was he actually considering helping me? 

I watched him scribble the words on the contract, pulling a confident black line over the original “forever access”. Then he straightened and held the papers out to me, for me to read the words. 

“Would this work for you?” 

I took the pages… We actually made quite a lot of changes, and he did not put up a fight… He was also suggesting things – things that were in my interest rather than the police department’s. And that was confusing. His closeness, his softness, his professionalism yet kindness towards me? 

I looked up at him, a lazy smile pulling onto my lips. 

“It would.” I said and I stood up, but his voice came again, making me smirk even harder. 

“It seems to me you’re quite familiar with legal jargon, Ms. Barlow,” he assessed me, his blue eyes studying me calmly but as if he knew I came here to annoy him, not to specify the contract.  “You understood quite a lot…” He looked down at me and I tilted my head smiling, my shy demeanour shifting, making him tense up a bit.

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” I straightened up fully, pushing my hair back over my shoulder, and he did not step back, so I was now standing toe to toe with him, as he shifted his weight. My eyes burned him, his pupils seemed to swallow the blue of his eyes. “But I wanted to hear it from you. And look at that, we managed to come to a consensus.” I smiled at him, and he just would not move back. 

I stared up at him, it seemed he did not know where to put his hands, his jaw working, but I just smiled. 

Then I pushed the papers onto his chest, his eyes falling to my blood red nails. 

“I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sheriff.” I smirked, feeling on top of the world. But the illusion was scattered, because as I was pulling back, he grabbed my wrist.  An audible gasp left my lips and my eyes snapped back to his. He was glaring down at me now, and the moment stretched long. His grip was firm, almost too tight, the heat of his palm searing through my skin. I gulped, opening my mouth but as if he realized what he was doing, he spoke. 

“Careful drive home, Ms. Barlow,” he said. Words and tone distant, eyes glaring at me, and his jaw was clenching. Yet… his thumb brushed once over my pulse before he let go. 

“Always, Sheriff,” I breathed and I spun around.

My heels clicked loudly. 

– – – – – – – – – –

The day at the police station was heavy on my mind. 

He was confusing, and I knew I started to feel something for him. He was hot, sure; I kept running into him – small town… But I was beating myself up. The relationship felt fated, felt karmic… But I wasn’t about to enter something utterly toxic just because the man was handsome. I learned my lessons a long time ago, and I tried my hardest to pull back. 

I pushed it all away, but at that point I was questioning my sanity and wondering whether or not my spirit guides were working overtime… 

And so, came that god-awful day.

I was driving back home to town… I had to go to a bigger city to handle a few errands about the book – some executives were visiting, and asked to meet. The usual stupid meeting stuff that could have been an e-mail, but what can a girl do? I cannot exactly tell those men to fuck off, and maybe spend some time with their wives instead of licking each other’s a–

But who was I to judge? 

Anyway, that double three hour long meeting took a lot out of me, leaving me light headed and drained. I was dead tired while driving, and I knew it was not the wisest idea, but I just wanted to get home asap. So, right after the meetings ended, I was back in my car driving.

Then it all happened so… quickly. 

One minute, I was enjoying my soft music, the late afternoon orange light, the colorful leaves. 

Then my car was in a ditch. 

I stumbled in the colorful leaves, climbing out of the car, – not sure how – Camaro got in the ditch, but I managed to slow it before my car slammed into a tree at full speed… 

It was just off the road. 

No injuries – I thought – just shock. 

But then I looked back and blinked rapidly. My car was smoking. The front fender seemed to bend, a tire blew and a headlight was half blinking. I shut my eyes close tightly and turned ahead. The faint taste of metal lingered on my tongue, but I forced my eyes to focus on the road. The edge seemed slick, as if something had leaked and dried like oil.

I didn’t even think much, my ear was ringing and something was clicking in the background. I only registered that I was calling someone when a voice came over the speaker. 

“Johnny here.” He picked up the phone with another funny line. It was his thing. “You’re interruptin’ a very important session of me starin’ into space.”

My breath stuttered and I could hear him shift in his chair. I tried to collect my thoughts when his voice came now with a concerned tint.

“Phiny?” 

“Sorry, Johnny, I uh… actually I don't know how these things work… um, the Sheriff is there?” I stumbled over the words, massaging the bridge of my nose, trying to focus. I hated being vulnerable, I hated being an inconvenience, therefore the situation at hand was most definitely… hm, perhaps, uncomfortable.

“He is, but–” 

“Ah, good, um… don’t tell him, but I might have crashed my car,” a soft chuckle left my lips and I could hear the air stiffen on the other end. 

“It’s no big deal,” I continued quickly massaging my temple. “I– I just swerved off the road, somewhere near Route 9, I think? Coming back from the city. I didn’t hit anyone, didn’t even hit a tree – just kind of skidded, um, I might have, like took part of the guardrail, and um… I ended up in a ditch. I might’ve damaged the road a little too, sorry. Maybe call Mr. Simons? Or – uh – someone with a winch?”

“Phiny,” Johnny said, voice lower now, no more teasing. “Maybe an ambulance too?”

“I’m fine,” I tried to laugh again, but it came out cracked and trembling. “I just– look, can you not make a big deal out of it? I just want to pay for the damage and get home.” I said, and I heard him mumble something, but the ringing was loud in my ears. 

“Okay… sure, um, I’ll be there in 20, 15 minutes top, you hear me Phiny?” he asked and I mumbled something. “Don’t you dare lay down, okay? Lean against a tree, I’ll see you in a bit.” He sounded rushed, as if he was already mid-jog, then he ended the call and I lowered my phone. 

Orange was bleeding into the lavender treeline. The trees were whispering, leaves rustling in the cold wind that was picking up. I was a bit dazed, yet jittery. The mixture of emotions was dizzying. 

I was leaning against a tree, crossing my arms, trying to calm myself. Contrary to how panicked Johnny sounded over the phone, I really was alright. Not hurt, more… embarrassed. My head cleared a few minutes after the call ended, and as I took a deep breath my muscles started to slowly ease, only to jump back into panic mode.

A car stopped. 

It was too early for it to be Johnny. And the car, the black, beat-up pick up truck, was unfamiliar. 

I closed my eyes. 

Two men emerged. I cursed as my pulse kicked up. 

“Are you alright, miss?” one of them shouted and I just raised my hand in a dismissive wave. 

“I am,” it was hard to think… Everything was loud in my head, everything was burning up, then cold slammed over my body, then hot again. 

“Do you need us to pull your car out?” the other younger one asked, them coming closer, but stopping at the side of the road. I was a few meters away from them, red and yellow leaves covering the ground around me, contrasting the black asphalt the two were standing at. 

“No, a friend of mine is coming to get me,” I said with a faint smile, but they kept insisting. Asking stupid questions like ‘are you alright?’ or ‘did you hit your head?’ or my favorite: “Shall we wait with you until your friend arrives?” 

All innocent, right? Yes, very much. If the whispers were not so fucking loud about being careful and whispering again and again, do not trust them, I would have believed their kindness… 

But the situation… A frail woman, clearly dazed by whatever happened, stranded by the side of the woods, with the sun setting. And I noticed the look in their eyes, their shared glances. I planted my palm against the tree trunk behind me, trying to ground myself… 

And they would not leave, no matter how much I told them I’d be fine. 

“From where is your friend coming?” 

“Briar Hollow,” I said before I could think it through. That earned a smirk… Briar Hollow was at least 20 minutes away… More like 30 with the road conditions and the light drizzle that started falling. 

“That’s really far away, don’t you want to sit in our truck? We could take you to a closer town to get you checked out,” one of them offered, but the voices were more talkative. 

The wind rustled my skirt, leaves danced around and the voices in the woods grew louder. Constant whispering but I only caught a few words, most ‘no’ and ‘don’t trust’ again. The air was cooling, wind and whispers sending shivers down my spine. 

As the adrenaline from the crash wore off, another stress hormone took its place. I was shaking, though I tried to hide it, and I kept the eye contact… I read it kept predators off… Not that I believed in my ability to fight the two men, but I knew I was quick… I ran a lot, and I knew my ways around the woods. Hell, I made sure of that over the past few months. 

The older man – he had a scar on his jaw, kept looking at me as if he could read my mind. And I pulled my phone out, pretending to check… My stomach dropped, and I tried to play that it showed something… But the little sign NO SERVICE was written on the top side. 

The leaves crunched and my eyes snapped back to them, the younger one in standard hunting gear took a step towards me. I tried to play the naive, but panic was filling me. 

“You should really come with us, miss, you might have a head injury…” he said, reaching into the back of his waistband weirdly, and I kept my eye on him, but my peripheral view saw the other man too, his body language turning into a more threatening stance. 

“You two are very kind, but really, I should wait for my friend here…” and I prayed, I prayed so hard that Johnny would appear in the next minute or so, because I just felt the tension, and as I shifted my legs I realized that running was not happening. My whole body was screaming in exhaustion but the survival instinct was pumping my blood louder in my ear. 

Play along… 

The change in the whispers sent shivers down my spine. I drew my brows together, not understanding, but then finally! After the agonizing tension, the loud noise caught all our attention.

The engine of a car roared.

The empty road filled with the screaming car that was coming way too fast… Then my shoulders finally dropped. A police car slammed on its breaks and stopped not far from us. 

My eyes strained on the person emerging from the car, shutting the door too loud, swiftly. He was too tall to be Johnny, and moved with much authority. His face was calm, jaw clenched and fear pushed through my body again. 

Fuck, the Sheriff was gonna kill me… 

He walked towards us, well, me with urgency. I blinked as his heavy boots crunched the dry leaves. His eyes were dead serious, not looking anywhere, only at me. I felt dread slip up my spine, my body readying for the long list of curses he was surely gonna read on my head…

“Sheri–” I started but he did not slow, then his body slammed into mine. 

He almost pushed me off my legs, but his heavy arms wrapped around me, fingers slipping into my hair, pushing my head into his chest too fast, too hard. I gasped, eyes widened as he held me tightly. 

“Jesus, honey… I was worried about you.” His voice was deep, gravel, and the voices that said play along now sat quiet. The wind was sweeping around us, and I just weakly grabbed onto his shirt, trying to hold myself up, closed my eyes for a second but he pushed me back. His hand was on my cheek, the other around my waist, and his blue eyes were studying me intensely, looking for injuries and his gaze serious, as if pleading to catch on. “Look at you, darling…” he mumbled, and I was utterly confused by his word usage. I could not wrap my head around why he was acting as if I was his significant other… Like, a girlfriend or something. I wanted to say something but then I heard the other men, still closer to the road, talk 

“Sheriff Price,” the older man called. “Long time no see.” 

Price did not let me look at them anymore, just pulled me back, letting my head fall against his chest, as if shielding me from some threat I was yet to recognize. Felt my knees buckle, but I still held myself up. For the love of god, not really… It was him, who was doing most of the holding…

“Shepherd,” he nodded and his voice was heavy, he said that name like a warning. His usual calmness was replaced by something dark… I could not place it.

“Didn’t know you’ve got married,” the older man watched our every move, and I was only peaking, turning my head just a bit, still pressed up against the sheriff. It was too easy… His scent, his heat… The strong muscles holding me up… I probably would’ve fallen if he wasn't holding me. I felt his hand squeeze my waist too, as if to ground me – maybe himself, as well… 

He seemed angry, I could tell his jaw was working, his heartbeat was loud against my ear as he wasn’t wearing his vest. His heartbeat was steady, but quicker than I’d imagine… 

“Pretty birds like her don’t usually marry old men,” my eyes snapped to the older man now grinning, his eyes fixed on mines. It made my heart jump in an uncomfortable manner, making me utterly sick.

God, that man, he was terrifying, a crazed glint appearing in his eyes, as his companion walked back next to him. And I finally noticed what was off about them… The bulge of a gun was now visible in the younger man’s waist band in the back, he turned and his eyes fell on me. No sign of the softness, just an unreadable expression, staring at me, lips pushed into a straight line – displeased! Terror washed over my body. 

Just what sort of people were they? 

“I guess, I’m just lucky, Shepherd. Not everybody has to force women to marry them.” I felt the cold comment, and his big arms squeezed me ever so slightly, hiding me behind his body, getting me out of the strange man’s line of view – then his hand slipped from my waist to his holster. 

Eerie quiet filled the air, and I wasn’t sure about the lore, but the tension was unbearable. I buried my face into his chest, trying to quiet my breathing. His hand on my arm squeezed gently, and the distant sirens seemed to dissolve that nauseating tension. 

I heard the man scoff, then scrunch of boots. “Late congratulations then, Price.” 

I did not move, and I heard the car doors slam shut, and the engine start. 

I heard the sheriff sigh – an audible noise, above my head as I felt his breath on my hair. My fingers tightened on his shirt. Oh my god… He was gonna scold me, maybe shout at me. The other men were scary, but it was him whom I had to live with… 

I pulled back a little and stared up at him, immediately starting to ramble, with big eyes meeting his confused ones. 

“I wasn’t speeding,” I whispered quickly. “I swear.”

“Ms. Barlow…” both his hands were on me again, but I could barely register it. I was explaining to him in panic that I did not disobey his “order” to drive slower, that I was careful, that I was a good driver who obeyed the law and–

God. He really conditioned me into some good girl who was afraid to mess up, hasn’t he. 

I was grabbing his shirt, fingers shaking even as I pulled them into a fist. “I really wasn’t– I promised you last time, sir? I – there was oil, or something, or–  maybe it was the tires, they’re old…” I shook my head and he called my name again, but I just rambled on and on…

“I– just the car… I’m so– ”

“Seraphina.” He slipped one of his hands on my cheek hurriedly.

I gasped as he called my name. 

My real name, my first name.

My eyes snapped to his concerned blues. His touch was firm and grounding, his eyes scanned my face with such deep, terrifying intensity it made my heart stop. I swallowed hard. 

The woods were quiet now, the distant light of red and blue spilled between the dark tree trunks as the sun dipped below the line of the mountains. My breathing was quick, I did not notice… 

His thumb was on my cheekbone, a fingertip settled below my ear, gently pressing, as his other fingers dragged along the curve of my jaw. Inhaling air was hard, ragged, his eyes studied my face. Then his gaze fell to my lips, and he pushed his thumb on it. 

I winced as pain shot through my body, and I grabbed his wrist to stop him. I felt the steady pulse, the heat of his body. Then I felt the blood. I guess, I did hit myself.

I dared to look up into those blue eyes, and there sat anger. Fury even. I braced myself for his harsh words but… they never came. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” His voice was low, but soft. My lashes fluttered and I shook my head. 

“My lips are a little… That’s all.” My voice was alien, and he sighed, his shoulders dropped a little as if they eased. I still held his wrist, and I felt his other hand on the small of my back. We were definitely standing too close… So close to feel his aftershave, that faint smoky scent that emanated from all his clothes. His heat, warm air danced around him, warming my shivering body. I let my eyes fall shut, and I took a deep, shaky breath. I felt him move, his head lowering just a little, his breath on my temple. 

“Did they say anything to you?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Our eyes connected, he was talking so softly, he seemed almost… concerned. 

“No, they were very, um, helpful.” I formed the words carefully. Exhaustion tinting my voice. 

I wasn’t hysterical, I was oddly calm as he still held me. And it scared me. How much I liked his touch, how much I did not care that he was older than me, that he was an ass to me, that he was the town’s sheriff and I was just a troublesome girl in his eyes. Because when his stormy blue eyes landed on me, I did not feel like a little girl. I felt something dangerous, that made my stomach twist, heart jump against my rib, and heat pool inside my body. 

He scoffed, his jaw clenching and he looked away into the distance above us, his cold demeanour reappeared just like that. In a blink of an eye, his condescending tone was back, pushing me away violently. “Helpful, you say…” he pulled his hand from my cheek, but even though he almost grinded his teeth down, his touch was careful, as if afraid he’d hurt me. 

“Sheriff! Phiny!” a familiar voice cut through the dark blue of dusk. The sheriff squeezed my arms one more time, but his eyes were not on me anymore. He was forcing himself to create distance. 

I looked up at the arriving Johnny, his eyes widening 

“Jesus, Phiny,” he mumbled but I smiled. 

“I’m fine…” I waved it away, but suddenly I was cold. Terribly, utterly cold, ice cold air slipping into my veins, freezing me from inside out. The heat and comfort of the sheriff left me, and I found myself in Johnny’s arms. He was holding me more respectfully… nothing like the Sheriff. 

As Johnny was asking me questions, only a few steps away, the Sheriff rubbed his beard too hard to be comforting. He was talking to officer Riley and a rookie. 

“...the Sheperds,” the name hit my ear, and Officer Riley tensed visibly. The rookie looked just as confused as me. 

“Come on, let’s get you checked out,” Johnny held my hand, his big warm hands enveloping mines. 

“No, I’m fine, Johnny, really… This is all too much already.” I said wanting to pull back but he glared at me. 

“Seriously, Barlow,” he barked and I could not help but let a smirk slip. 

“I cannot take you seriously, Johnny,” I giggled and he rolled his eyes. I stepped closer, and only letting go of my hand for a second, he threw his jacket over my shoulders.

“Come on, I’ll drive you to the clinic,” I wanted to refuse, but he cut in my word. “You get checked, and if you’re cleared, I’ll drop you off at home.” 

“I just wanna go rest, I’m so tired…” I mumbled but I let him drag me by my hand. 

“See, that’s the problem. You’ve hit your head, I’m not about to let you fall asleep so you wake up in some astral realm.” 

“It’s not how this works,” I laughed and I followed him with heavy, tired steps. 

And I felt the Sheriff stare at us. I felt his blue eyes swallow us two, his eyes dragging to my and Johnny’s connected hands, his jaw clenching as I laughed… If I did not know him better, I would have said… that he was jealous.

Hey there, :) I really wanted to get this chapter out for you guys! Thank you so much for your notes and comments -- they are so fun to read lol. The begging will happen, just you wait. I'll try to get ahead with the story on the weekend. Until then... Sweet dreams and kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 15]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: mention of dead animal, catcalling, harassment, mean price, occult, tarot, age gap (duh hehe), abuse of power, slut shaming, mention of alcohol consumption, i curse a lot heyy guys, sorry for the disappearing act... i moved to the city, started a new job, been in meetings all week... next week same thing, so the chapters might come slower, but they will come, bc this man... gotta roll this slow burn bc i wrote a fucking fun chapter but, like, we have to get there ya know... anywaysss, enjoy :)

Stupid Sheriff

With September, and with the start of the hunting season, Briar Hollow changed. 

It became a busy midsized town with a lot of hunters visiting with friends and families. And yeah, the college kids left, but school started, so kids swarmed the streets in groups in the afternoons, filling the once almost serene town with life. 

Strangers came. A lot. As it turned out Briar Hollow was a very popular spot for families and rowdy hunters to enjoy the hunting season. Rosa told me all about the little cabins up in the woods, and how many came to town to get supplies then to retreat to their cabins, to well, drink with friends. 

Motels were full on the weekends, the bars, the diner too. It totally felt like a completely different town, and I had to get rid of some of my antics… 

I put away my cherry red convertible – now, not because it was so sinfully colored, but it had some damage. Mr. Simons looked at my tires after that night, and he just shook his head. And so a new hunt started for tires that would fit my little devil ride. 

The woods… The woods were not closed anymore. With no real lead or evidence, the major had decided that there was no imminent danger in those woods. I kinda understood it… The woods, hunting, the cabins were a pretty big part of the reason why people came to Briar Hollow. Closing the woods would have meant letting go of a big chunk of profit. 

Not that I really cared… I did not exactly participate in any talk about the woods. I avoided the topic like plague.

After that night, after I kept mumbling like a crazy lady about some man in the woods I did not dare to approach the sheriff. I did not look at him, I did not talk to him, I kept my distance.

Either way, there was a rumor in town that I was some sort of psychic who predicted that the man would be found in the woods. 

I predicted shit. 

I heard something about a man in the woods. I did not see visions by any mean, I heard those annoying fucking noises that would usually make my days more colorful with snarky comments – comments sometimes about danger, sometimes about butts. 

I had no bloody idea that the man would be a driver…

I tried to convince myself that the whispers were about the driver… 

And I went back to living my normal life for weeks. Keeping it on the low, not being too loud in my witchyness. I just needed a bit of a break, a few weeks where I don’t have to worry about my book, nor my reputation in town, or some crazed killer in the woods. 

But per usual, whenever I seeked peace, chaos would find me. 

It was one of those little hotter days. You know the ones, when the weather has been cold for a few days, then the sun decides it’s ready to bless us with its warm rays before turning into a moody teenager and hiding behind clouds. 

I wore one of my dresses with longer, whimsical sleeves. 

The bruises, once left by Price, completely disappeared. My tanned skin was glowing. Hair bounced with each step, glasses hid my jade eyes – I was blind in direct sunlight anyway – and my cowboy boots, richly decorated with twines clicked against the pavement. Now, yes, the dress was a bit revealing, – sat a bit low on my shoulders, the semi-corset around my upper torso created a nice décoltage, etc. – but it was still elegant, witchy with my accessories. 

I flipped a page with a heavily ringed finger. Long red nails tracing along the words in the book. 

I’ve been reading up on claireaudients a lot more – not that there were many books in the “Occult and Witchcraft” section at the local library, but I got books delivered to a PObox. The topic was just bugging me. The woods were the last straw really. It was so loud back then, so many thing happened all at once… There had to be an explanation. I needed to know if I was going crazy or I was just one of those people who were cursed with heightened intuition. 

I swayed down the street, eye locked on the words in the book – ‘...people often hear a strong inner voice, like the inner narrator, that outlines thoughts in many people’s minds. Clairaudient experts have described the voice as calm and even-keeled…’

Needless to say, I was not paying attention to my surroundings. Lately I’ve been forcing myself not to do so… Just look through people in town, and keep going as if they’re not there. I wasn’t that lucky that day. 

Men, strangers, hunters. They were giving me the eyes, but never caused much trouble – a few nods, maybe a wink, a few words that would barely count as catcalling but was a bit uncomfortable. And there were actually good family men, who politely asked me where this or that store was. However, that Friday afternoon, when I was walking down the street like some storm cloud, something shifted in the air. 

A group of hunters spilled to the street from a liquor store. I noticed them – how could I not? They were loud, heavily intoxicated as well. Based on their disregard to anybody else, I was sure they were city folks – and not the good kind. The lack of inhibition was baffling. 

 I did not slow my steps, I did not even look up. I thought I would just pass them by, and that’d be all. But immediately, as I was walking closer to the road side of the pavement, a rowdy voice filled the air. 

“Now, would you look at that!” one of them noticed as I closed up on them. 

“Come here kitten, let's talk,” another shouted me, and my eyebrows twitched. My jaw ticked, but I did not give them the satisfaction to react. Their group split in the middle, and I had to walk between them… God, how I loved being a woman. 

“Didn’t know the town had such pretty hookers,” I felt the side of my skirt shift. I snapped my head back, pulse kicking up, blood thumping in my ears.

“Don't touch me, you filth,” I spat the words, pulling the material from between the fingers. My insult did not seem to faze them. 

“She is feisty,” the third one of them got all up in my face as I turned ahead. I had to stop so as not to walk into him. And god, his eyes, clouded by alcohol and lust. “We have a cabin up in the woods, your services would be… greatly appreciated.” 

I stood toe-to-toe with the man. I pulled my brows together. There were seven of them… All sizes, all different stages of drunkenness and it seemed there were at least two sober members in the group who must have been the designated drivers. And there was at least one of them who seemed uncomfortable with the situation that was unfolding. 

“I’m not a hooker,” I said flatly, without any emotions in my voice. 

“Oh, come on sugar, you seem like a girl who’d enjoy–” he touched my upper arm, and I pushed his hand away immediately. 

“Don’t touch me,” my nostrils flared as I swatted away the clammy hand.

“Man, let it go! Come on guys, let’s just go,” one of the men pleaded, but the others seemed more invested in my dress. In my breasts more like.

“Why? She’s coming with us, right, sugar?” He turned back to me with a loopy smile and my nose crunched up. The smell of alcohol and cheap cigarettes twirled around him, slipping up on my skin like a disgusting cockroach. 

“Your mother should’ve swallowed you, not gonna lie.” I said calmly, and I moved to the side quickly, trying to get out of the situation before he realized what I’ve just told him. A few of them laughed being quicker than my pursuer… However, as he caught on rather fast too. I realized I must have hit a nerve.

His hand clamped around my arm like a beartrap, yanking me backward so hard my book slipped from my grip, arriving at the hot pavement with a soft thud. The breath punched out of my lungs, my heart was racing, blood roaring in my ears so loudly it drowned out the laughter behind him. Heat prickled under my skin where his fingers dug in. I twisted, but his grip only tightened.

This couldn’t be real. Broad daylight. On Main Street.

I was suddenly twelve years old again, too small, too weak, trapped in someone else’s hands. A cold panic slid down my spine, panic clouding my judgement. I was caught…

And why? just why were people touching me all the goddamn time? I hated physical touch… I hated lustful physical contact from strangers who smelled like beer and greasy food. 

“Listen here you little slut,” he got all up in my face, and it seemed his friends were not very thrilled about it, as some of the more sober ones tensed. 

“Let go” I pulled back, pushing his hand with my free one, but he was very aggressive. His grip turned tighter and his disgusting breath fanned my face. My stomach turned, and alarm bells were loudly ringing in my head. I wanted to spit in his face, but the fingers bruising my arm reminded me: I wouldn’t win this fight.

“Come on man, let her go,” one of the more reasonable hunters said, but he would not intervene. What was up with men letting their friends be shitty towards women? And yeah, I had a sharp tongue, but I was barely 5’3 and the dude, although not the tallest, was definitely bigger than me. Hell, stronger… 

“Whores like her,” I looked up into his eyes. He was seeing red, small red veins twirled around his dirt colored irises. His breathing quickened, and I felt small. I felt as if there was no way to escape. “oh fuck, they need the attitude to be fucked out of th–” 

A deep voice cut through my internal panic. 

“Are we having a problem here, gentlemen?” 

My head and the seven hunters snapped to the side at the same time. Relief slammed into me so fast my knees nearly buckled, but it wasn’t ease that filled my chest – it was something darker. 

Sheriff Price stood tall, eyes glaring daggers, behind him Garrick was standing with crossed arms, and from a car, that parked down god knows when, the very big Officer Riley and manic looking Johnny were emerging.

Oof, the whole squad.

But Price… he wasn’t just watching. He was measuring, like a wild animal deciding which throat to sink his teeth into first. The kind of assessment I imagined military men to have, looking around a room and contemplating how long would it take – six or seven seconds -- to take everyone out. 

The hunter’s grip still bruised my arm, but suddenly all I could feel was the weight of Price’s presence, filling every inch of space around me.

My eyes locked with the Sheriff’s. His stormy blues studied my face, then his eyes dropped to my arm which was being squeezed harshly by the idiot. I swallowed hard as something shifted in his face. I’ve never seen something like that. Jaw clenching tight, knuckles turning white on his vest, and his eyes… Oh, his eyes. I thought he looked the darkest when he was looking at me. It was incomparable… the way he looked at the hunter, it made my heart shiver. 

“I suggest you take your hand off of her,” his voice was deep, so much threat behind a simple sentence.

“Officersss,” the hunter laughed as I snapped back into the moment, “We were just talking, right, sugar?” he tried to hit it away with a joke. I looked at the dude as if he was an idiot – he was – but still… Did he not feel the fury radiating off of Price? Did he not understand that the squad behind the sheriff looked as if they were ready to rip him to pieces and bury him in the woods?  I guess not. 

Price moved closer, deliberate, slow steps… The other hunters seemed to sense it, the danger. When a big predator slowly prowles towards the prey – and in this case? The hunters were not on the top of the food chain.

They knew, I could tell by the way they shifted uncomfortably, averted their gaze and some of them even stepped back. Those hunters were not exactly small, but beside Price, they all seemed meek twigs – not because of his body, but that energy he was projecting. That dark, fuck around and find out vibe. 

“The miss does not seem to enjoy your conversation” he pressed on the word and their eyes met. Price was towering above the man, keeping the eye contact with the hunter. The hunter's fingers dug into my skin, and my throat was tight, but I felt safer now. 

Price did not look at me, he would not break the eye contact… but I felt his heat. His hand almost touched the small of my back. Not quite, but if I’d moved just a millimetre, his hand would have been on me. 

“Now, let her go, before I have to make something about it.” Price talked calmly, and that was worse. Honestly, much worse than when he was scolding. 

“What’s up with the empty threats, sheriff?” The hunter laughed but his group was silent. Everything was tense, and silent, but he did not clock it, until Price’s mouth twitched and leaned closer to him. 

“I don’t make threats. I make guarantees.” His deep voice silenced the whole street. 

That sentence; it made my heart jump against my rib. I felt the man’s finger loosen then slip. 

I pulled back as soon as he released me, stepping towards Price, shoulder brushing his chest. I could feel the ghost of heat on my hip. His hand close, but once again, not fully touching me. But it was enough… His heat, his scent. That he was bigger than me in every sense, making me forget about whatever that hunter wanted to do. 

They muttered ‘sorry’ and a few ‘whatevers’ and they scurried off.

We watched them get back inside their cars then drive off. 

I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My arm still throbbed where the man had grabbed me, but the press of Price at my back – his height, his heat, his quiet violence… He made me feel, for one fragile moment, untouchable. Safe. 

I massaged my arm, and turned to face him. I wanted to thank him, smile at him, but the motion stopped. 

His eyes were cold. Measuring me, looking down at me as if I was a dead cat on the side of the road with its insides spilling onto the asphalt. 

But it was his words… His words were even colder. 

“It would be greatly appreciated, Ms. Barlow, if you could, for once, cover up,” he snarled and my lashes fluttered. I felt my lips quiver and blinked. I thought I heard it wrong. 

He has been civil… so the hostility hit harder. Made my heart clench, and my mouth dry. 

I averted my gaze and stepped back, so I was not leaning against his steady torso. Creating a rather formal distance. I could barely look up at the men behind the sheriff. I felt shame creep up my neck, the utter humiliation that made my fingers shake, throat close and my eyes burn. 

I did not expect him to say that. I thought… perhaps, maybe he cared. But that harsh tone. It was the push over the edge.

I kept my eyes on the grey concrete, then I shook my head. I forced a small smile –  it pained me – and looked up at him, feeling the tears dwell in my eyes.

And I saw him notice. His blue eyes widened just a little. His nostril flared and I saw he wanted to open his mouth to say something, but I would not let him. 

“Will do, sir.” I mumbled, voice small. “Thank you for the save, Sheriff.”

Clearly defeated, not being able to look into the squad's eyes. I quickly grabbed my fallen book from the pavement, turned and walked off quickly, utterly humiliated. 

I could not deal with him anymore! 

I could not read him… And I had enough of the constant pain he was inflicting on me. 

“Nice move, Sheriff–” I heard Officer Riley, just the ghost of the words. I wasn't even sure if he really said it as I was already dashing down the street, trying to get to my car.

Once again, I was retreating. Ready to hide away in my little haunted castle… 

----------------

I was sitting with my little friends from 10th grade. Apparently, they had no better fun than to read tarot cards in the library garden. We’d run into each other at Ms. Dotti’s – they told me her pumpkin spice latte was good… I hated the stuff. It was not my palate, but I still got it, still drank it… I pour too much cinnamon in it so I would not feel that sweet syrupy taste. 

I smiled through the pain, a grimace threatening to slip. 

“You don’t have to drink it you know,” Dody giggled and I smiled painfully. 

“Whatever do you mean, it’s good,” I grinned, and Lola flipped a card laughing. 

“Liar,” she spun the Seven of Swords around in her fingers and I rolled my eyes. 

“Whatever,” I laughed as Nova was still shuffling, her dark hair falling into her eyes, as she pulled the final card. 

“Done!” a mischievous smile slipped onto her lips. I sighed and looked at her. “You ready?” 

“Whenever you are, lovie,” I rolled my eyes and leaned back. The girls giggled, leaning a bit forward, looking at the three cards. 

And why were they giggling messes?

Because I let them read about my love life.

They’ve been begging for weeks, not letting it go. At some point they even tried to bribe me, but I got bored of the constant nagging. So I sat there, letting myself be convinced with sentences like “we know each other too well! We can easily manipulate the narrative to match the potential love interest” yeah, they used big words and “come on Seraaa, pleassseee?” was more frequent. 

“Okay, okay, let’s see!” they giggled excitedly, and Nova flipped the first card. 

“The Emperooor,” she read it, my brow twitching. 

“Big daddy energy,” Lola giggled. 

“Shh, I’m reading!” Nova pushed her playfully as Dody  concentrated, the next card flipped. 

“The Devil!” Nova glanced up at me, and the girls started to giggle. I kept my face neutral, calm, nodding in an encouraging way although internally I was screaming at my spirit guides. 

“Last one!” Lola and Dody leaned forward, eyes fixed on the last card. 

Knight of Wands. 

We all stared at the card, my jade eyes were still strained on it, as I felt the three pairs of young eyes rise slowly and stop on me. 

“HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU!” Lola screamed, laughing so much she almost fell from the bench.

“He wants to be consumed by you!” Dody fanned herself. 

“He’s been yearning, craving you, deeply obsessed” Nova’s eyes burned with passion and I shook my head. 

“Zip it, you little rattle snakes,” I glared at them, but I was utterly amused by their good mood. I shook my  head and smiled. “Come on, Nova, read to me properly."

“Okay, okay, shut up you guys, listen!” she calmed herself, and sighed, as Dody and Lola were still giggling, but became quieter.

“This man… Or woman, we don’t judge,” Nova looked at me, and I smirked. “But goddamn, this feels like a man.” 

“Concentrate, soldier,” Lola shoved her shoulder and Nova swat back. 

“Okay, so this man… Literally. Authority, control freak, grumpy but hot. Like… rules first, feelings later. Definitely older.” She looked up at me to check in as Lola giggled. 

“So you’re into some dude who’s like… ‘Yes ma’am, I’ll pay the bills and also tell you when to go to bed.’ ” I rolled my eyes at her theatrics but smiled. 

“Interesting interpretation” I sighed with a little smile, then signalled to Nova to continue.

“The Devil…” 

“Toxiiic...” Dody rested her chin in her palm and I bit my cheek. 

“No, no — it’s like… passion but forbidden, right? Like ‘I want you so bad but I really shouldn’t.’ ” Lola said with sparkling eyes, and at this point they were reading together. Little, GenZ coven at its finest with references to TikTok content. 

Nova, gasped dramatically: “Like enemies to lovers vibes. He hates you, but also wants to, like, ruin your life in the hot way. Not the might-murder-you way.” My brow twitched.

Can you tell they were also deeply obsessed with the serial killer in the woods? 

They were giggling, and I felt my shoulders go very still, keeping my eyes on the god awful pumpkin spice latte. “Hmm.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s right,” Dody nodded then she looked at the last card. “And bruh, that’s like… horny on a horse.” 

“Stop–” Lola chocked 

“No, but it is!” Nova looked at the card then me for reassurance. “He’s, like, impulsive, fiery, can’t keep his hands to himself, comes in fast, leaves a mess behind.”

I had to fight the twitch of my mouth, and I set my coffee down as all three of them looked at me again, straight, pointed, as if questioning my sanity. 

“So, like… let me get this straight. You’ve got Grumpy Old Man Emperor, chained-to-each-other Devil vibes, and Hot Mess Knight energy? Tell me you’re not living a fanfic without telling me.”

The trio was shrieking with theories, giggling, saying obscenities I just blinked at, and I tried to keep my poker face, but my knuckles were going white on the paper cup. 

“Mm-hm. Interesting. And did you check the bottom of the deck?”

I said it calmly, deliberately – like I was trying to subdue whatever that reading was. The bottom card, I was expecting to be something harmless like The Fool or Four of Cups.

But Lola flipped the deck over–

My mouth stopped mid-sip. Seriously…

“The Lovers!! HA!” 

I sighed and put my cup down. 

“Okay, lovie, reshuffle.”

“Nuh-uh, you said no reshuffles when we don’t like the answers”

They started screaming and smacking the table, phones out instantly to snap pics.

 “SOULMATES.” Lola gasped dramatically. 

 “No, because – this is literally like – fated connection energy. Like you can’t escape it. You’re bound. It’s written in the stars.” Nova was fanning herself with a few cards. 

I pressed my lips together, and kept a serenely unreadable face, although my pulse was picking up as I swear, a giggle, not the girls’ but the wind tickled my ear. 

I sighed and leaned back, pretending to inspect the cards, as if their reading was not wildly accurate.  “Well. That’s one way to interpret it.”

 “No, don’t you dare sit there with your little teacher-face! You’ve been hiding this from us!” Dody pointed at me with her phone. 

 “She’s literally in denial. Look at her. Look. At. Her.” Lola was shaking her head with a small smirk and I sighed, sipping the coffee. 

“Hey guys,” Saffy promptly stopped running to our bench. Her bag was half falling off her shoulder, dirty blonde hair falling around, then her eyes widened, mouth gaping in jealous shock. 

“Jesus, whose sugar daddy is that?” Saffy leaned forward and the girls lost it. 

“Fucking told you so!” 

“Hey, no cursing!” I glared at them as if I were not cursing like a sailor all the time. 

“No way, Sera! I did not know you were into older men.” Saffy looked at me from the cards. 

“I’m not.” I lied and Nova chuckled.

“That’s not what we’ve heard.” Dody sang and I was done with them. 

“Anyway, guys, listen, the arcades…” Saffy glared at the three girl, signalling with big eyes, excited, high on success one would get from a well done ritual. 

“What?! really?” Nova's fingers stopped over the cards. 

“Yeah!” Saffy nodded violently.

“Ah, sorry Sera, we gotta run!” The girls were jumping up and I looked at them amused. I smirked.

“You girls should not mess with people’s love life, you know.” I said calmly and they froze. They stopped in their movements, and looked at me with wide eyes, a bit scared how I knew that. I blinked back at them calmly as they nervously laughed.

“We know, we didn’t ahaha” Saffy rubbed the back of her neck, as Nova was looking at everywhere but at me.

“Okay,” I nodded softly.  “But just so you know… Karma is real.” I stood up with a small smile. “So careful” 

“Sure, sure, we’ll be…” Dody promised, but I could tell that they were getting themselves in a big trouble. But they had to learn on their own not to mess with forces they cannot control. 

“Come on!!” Saffy was dragging Lola and I watched after the four girls ran off. 

Hell, what a mess. 

I slammed the paper cup into the trash.

---------------------

I was sitting at Oldie & Goldie again. Rain patted softly against the window. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old cedar, the scent clinging to the racks of vintage coats. I sat cross-legged on a plush rug, the wool prickling my thighs as I hooked another silk ribbon through a tag with a price scribbled in Marla’s neat handwriting.

I’d just dropped off the last of my nana’s clothes, and I was helping them tag. It was soothing, the small motions of stringing satin ribbon and paper tags together. 

The shop was quiet except for the rain, the occasional creak of old wood, the shuffling of clothes and the faint hum of Etta’s radio in the back. The shop was closed that day, but there was plenty to do… Rosa and I were helping the ladies out.

Etta and Marla were business ladies. One of their grandchildren helped them set up an online business too, and a teen started to work at their store, helping them manage the online orders – they were pouring in.

“Little magpie, you’re oddly quiet,” Marla called over from between the racks, her bracelets jangling softly as she flipped hangers.

I just shrugged, keeping my eyes on the fabric in my lap.

“The sheriff’s been an arse again,” Rosa’s voice cut in as she hefted a cardboard box onto the counter.

I shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass.

“What? When did this happen?” Etta turned, scarves slipping through her fingers, her oversized glasses magnifying her frown.

“Nothing happened, really…” I said shyly and Rosa sent me a look. 

“Yeah, sure. Kyle's been fuming, ya’ know, he can’t deal with his captain anymore,” the browned eye woman pushed her hands on her hip.

“What exactly did he say?” Marla inched closer, looking as if she’s deciding between ripping the sheriff a new one and just a gentle scolding. 

“Nothing!” I insisted, shaking my head, gripping the dress tighter in my hands.

“He said Phina should be dressing less like a whore!” Rosa gestured with her hands. She was fuming the past few days, and was very angry with the sheriff. I think she was angrier than me. “Cover up, he said, can you believe it?” she shook her head and grabbed another box.

“No, he did not!” Etta slammed her hands on the counter, leaning forward with big eyes, and I just wanted the floor to open below me.  

“To his defence, it was after some hunters thought I was a hooker.” I tried to come up with an excuse, and Rosa rolled her eyes, as Marla shook her head. 

“Ah, drunkards!” she swatted the air with some silk gloves. 

“You’d be a high-end hooker, darling.” Etta said gently and I snorted.

“Thank you,”  I said, arms flung wide in mock gratitude, finally coaxing a laugh out of myself. “But so you see, the sheriff was right… maybe, just ‘til there are this many strangers in town, I should just tone it down…” I shrugged and threw the dress to the rack, gripping a new one and pulling it to my lap.

“That is utter nonsense, darling.” Etta said immediately. 

“Don’t you dare.” Marla joined and she was ready to give me a lecture, ranting on and on about how I was beautiful and I should change myself for no man. And how Jesus told men to carve their eyes out, or something like that. “You’re a beautiful twenty-five-year- old woman. You should dress like a whore if you wish to do so!” 

“I’m twenty-six, actually, but thank you.” I giggled, her speech being so dramatic it actually lightened my mood. 

“I– twenty-six?” Marla blinked, getting out of the heated 2nd-wave-feminist role. “I remember, clear as day, you told me twenty-five. At least that’s what I told my no good, push-around but rich grandson” Marla gave me a look and I snorted, shaking my head, actually laughing. 

“Well, you know, birthdays happen.” I averted my gaze, eyes falling onto my hands. I tied the satin rope and put the dress to the done rack. 

“What?” Rosa’s eyes widened. “You had your birthday?”

“Long time ago,” I waved it off, cutting up more ribbons so I would not have to look up at the bewildered ladies. 

“No, don’t lie,” she glared at me as she rested her hands on a shelf. “When was it?” she asked and all the women in the shop looked at me. I let my shoulders fall and sighed. 

“Well… It was back in August.” I said, then a small smirk passed my lips as I looked up at them. “I almost spent it in a holding cell.” 

“That is unacceptable!” Marla gasped and Etta shook her head, scolding me for keeping my birthday a secret. 

“Now, come on, I don't really celebrate it anyways.” I pulled a light green silk gown onto my lap. I shook my head as my fingers smoothed the material, and I just nonchalantly chatted. “I'm pretty sure my mother spent that day drunk, regretting her life decision and that she birthed me.” 

“Oh darling, now that is just cruel.” Etta hissed, looking down at me. She was a mother herself, even a grandmother… But like, I knew my mother loved me, on some days, she just resented me for looking more like her mother-in-law than herself. 

“It's whatever, I told you, I don't like my birthdays,” I shrugged, and I felt uncomfortable under the women’s stare at the store. “Anyways, pass me that box please.” and I switched the topic smoothly. I did not want to dwell on the past. I didn’t really care anyway – ever since I moved into Briar Hollow I tried to bury my past. I decided it did not define me, therefore, it should not be important. 

After helping out at the store, we went to grab a late lunch, almost dinner with Rosa. We were deep in conversation, giggling about something stupid. It was a cute little Saturday – calm, rainy, a bit chilly for September, but I loved it. 

Autumn was the most perfect season. With amazing colors, and the perfect weather to actually put together good outfits. I mean, don’t get me wrong,  I loved my summer dresses but like autumn fashion had my heart with big sweaters and witchy outfits. 

“Now, if that’s ain’t our favourite police crew” Rosa giggled as we stepped through the diner’s threshold. I tensed up and followed her gaze. In the back, three big men squeezed into a booth, mugs and empty plates in front of them. Officer Riley, Garrick and Johnny. 

“Hey there ladies, looking fabulous, as always.” Johnny grinned, letting his eyes scan us from head to toe. Garrick raised his brow, and his lips twitched.

“Don’t flirt with my wife?” 

“Who’d dare.. Ouch–” Johnny rolled his eyes, but Garrick gently slapped his head, earning a little smirk from Officer Riley. The big man sat across the two, drinking a mug of tea. 

“Where is the big bad sheriff of yours?” Rosa asked, crossing her arms. I knew she loved the sheriff. Really, everybody did. But it felt like she lost her patience with him – and she did not tolerate the man’s behaviour towards me, even though I kept insisting that I can be quite difficult to deal with. 

“Probably struggling with the worst headache of the year,” Garrick sighed and my jaw clenched. 

“Really?” Rosa blinked, concern sweeping into her voice. 

“Yeah, well,” Johnny threw the remaining of his bread into his mouth. “He’s communicated in grunts and orders today, so I’m guessing it's not the best day of his life.” He said, but before he could elaborate further the new waitress came over – Molly left for college. 

“Ready to order, ladies?” she flashed a big smile, and Rosa and I turned to her.

“Oh, yeah, just a second–” Rosa smiled back, but I gently cut in.

“Actually, I uh, I forgot, Rosa, sorry… I promised to deliver a few things to Lindy… I have to go.” I said, well, more like lied. Blatantly. She blinked at me, surprised, her big brown eyes searching in mines curiously, but she let it go.

“Oh, sure… Talk to you later then.” She smiled at me gently and I relaxed. 

“Yeah, bye,” I gently touched her arm (I was forcing myself to communicate with touches too like a normal human being) then I waved at the men. “Bye, Officers!” I smiled gently while walking off, although I did not miss Johnny’s curious eyes.

I drove home, and shook my head. 

Stupid sheriff was torturing himself. 

I slammed the door shut behind me, and Omen was already staring at me from the kitchen counter. I gently patted his head, then walked deeper inside the room.

I grabbed another tin box and started to fill it from a big glass jar. The sweet smell of the herbs slipped around me, hardly hearing the little rustles produced by the dried plants as I was cursing in my head. Nobody knew about the tea… but like, what an idiot, really. Struggling instead of asking for help…

I filled the container to the brim, firmly pressing the lid on, then I yanked the cupboard open, my fingers digging around. I grabbed a black sharpie and turned the box around. I started murmuring, drawing a rune – pain relief, protection… Maybe I should come up with an anti-stubborn rune at this point. 

Once I was done, I gently blew on it to dry the ink, then I placed it back on the counter. 

Omen was twirling around my legs, and I stared at the box in front of me. I was debating how to do it… Biting my lips so hard, I accidentally drew blood, the irony taste of the red liquid spilling over my tongue. 

I glanced down at Omen. His big green eyes were staring up at me lazily. He wasn’t exactly scolding me, nor was he judging… But he definitely knew what I was planning to do. 

“Ah, fuck…” I shook my head and grabbed the box. 

I was on the road again.

“Ms. Seraphina,” the front desk lady greeted me with a big smile. The police station door slammed shut behind me, like bars closing behind an inmate. 

“Good afternoon… evening,” I smiled and leaned against the high counter, separating the arriving and the workers. She was packing her bag as she looked at me with a smile. 

“How can I help you?” 

“Um, can I drop this here off? I promised the sheriff I'd bring some of that tea he liked.” Lies. I was becoming good at them. 

“Oh, sure you can,” she said as she closed her bag, but then she smiled again. “But he’s in his office. You can go talk to him, I'm sure he’d be happy to see a pleasant face.”

“Uh, I’m in a rush but–” I laughed nervously, trying to come up with an excuse to not see the broody man. Not that it helped… 

“Ms. Barlow,” his deep voice cut through the dark police station. It seemed most of the workers already left, officers were out either patrolling or on their way home. I turned my head to the side, seeing the man emerge from his office, as I spun around.

“I gotta run. I have a date,” the front desk lady said quickly, grabbing her coat. “Bye Sheriff! Ms. Seraphina!” The lady rushed out as if sensing the tension and she was not about to insert herself into something that was impossible to handle.

The door slammed shut behind her, uneasy silence falling onto the station. I bit the inside of my cheeks, refusing to look up at the big man, standing only a few meters away from me.

I held the box behind me in clasped hands, the metal was cold under my fingertips. I kept my eyes on the floor like a child caught mid stealing cookies, and my cheeks burned as I felt his eyes on me. The silence was becoming unbearable. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked and I froze up, before glancing into his eyes. My whole face jerked into a painful twist. His blue eyes were goddamn tired. Like, haven't slept in a week tired… Dark circles, face pale, his lively, expressing eyes faded. And it was hard to look at him… I swear to god, it was worse than last time. 

“Nothing, I mean… I just thought…” I rambled a bit, then I bit my lip, and dared to take a few steps towards him, floorboards creaking softly under my boots. I placed the tin box down on a table that stood halfway between us. “I thought you might need it.” 

He watched me in silence, he crossed his big arms, as I took a step back. He wasn’t moving on the other side of a random officer’s desk. 

“I don’t need it.” He said simply, and my jaw ticked, my eyes narrowed.

“You look like death,” I blurted, then winced, pulling back on the force. “Respectfully, sir.”

A short, rough laugh slipped out of him, the kind that sounded closer to a groan. He dragged a hand down his beard, and when his eyes met mine again, the sharp edge was dulled – exhaustion softening him in ways I didn’t know what to do with.

His deep blue eyes held no contempt… They almost looked soft despite the misery radiating from him, he tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Do I want to know how you knew?” he asked, pointing with his chin towards the box between us. His voice wasn’t his usual command, just tired.

“Johnny has a big mouth…” I mumbled. “Officer Garrick also mentioned it.”

He huffed a laugh at that, shaking his head. “Of course.”

For a moment, the silence stretched. Not the cold kind, but something heavier, hotter. His gaze dipped – just for a second – to the tea, then to my hand resting on the side of the table, dragging it up my arm, only for his gaze to settle on my exposed neck. My chest tightened, but I kept my face calm, unreadable, like I hadn’t noticed a damn thing.

“You shouldn’t… bother yourself with me, Ms. Barlow.” His voice was low now, not hard, not sharp – more like he was trying to convince himself.

I shook my head, jaw tightening. My heart was jumping and twisting inside my chest, making me nauseous as he said that. I always thought he was an insufferable prick… but I’d never felt that self-hatred from him before. That ‘I’m not worth it’ tone. No matter who said it, it always made a knife twist in my heart.

“It’s no bother, Sheriff…” I said softly, my jade eyes catching his. “You might be an awful prick, sir, but you don’t deserve to be suffering.”

That pulled at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, but close. “Calling me names, Ms. Barlow?” His voice was so deep, so smooth and low. It almost made my knees buckle, even though I did not want him to have such affect on me. 

“Someone has to keep you on your toes. You cannot slow down in this season.” I stated in a matter of fact manner, although I stole another glance at his eyes.

“Is that what this is – keeping me on my toes?” His brow lifted, he seemed oddly amused. 

I only shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? Just drink the tea. We can’t have the town’s sheriff looking weak with hunters pouring in.”

“Very humorous, Ms. Barlow.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh, and shook his head. For the first time in months, the sharpness in his face eased – just a fraction. The exhaustion didn’t leave him, but he let himself look at me. Really look. The weight of it was unbearable.

“Just… steep it a little longer. Seven minutes.” My voice came out quieter than I meant. “And make a pitcher for overnight. Herbs like this work better that way.” His eyes didn’t move, glued to my face until I flushed under the heat of it. I fumbled with the strap of my bag. “And maybe… go home. A bed’s more comfortable than an office couch.”

His brow arched at that, as if asking how I knew, but I didn’t elaborate. I just squared my shoulders. “Good night, Sheriff.” I said softly, averting my gaze quickly.

I spun on my heels and walked off… but I still felt his eyes on me, following me all the way out until the door slammed shut behind me.

Hey there, :) I missed you guys! Thank you so much for reading. I am so grateful for your kind notes and words! They made my heart do little jumps. I'll try to edit the next chapter faster. Until then, sweet kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 14]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: occult, tarot, age gap (20s/30s), SLOW BURN, angst, mention of murder, serial killer mention, murder-mystery vibes - it just felt right, i'm just going with it, description of dead animal, car accident, more whispering so here i am, early morning, showing the remains of my birthday cake into my face, drinking coffee and staring at the unedited sh't i've wrote in the past two days -- thinking heavily if this is a romance or should i turn it into a bloody horror fic. anywayssss, i prefer romance and softness but here we go hehe, enjoy :))

The Man in the Woods

I’ve been pulling cards for days now… The Tower, The Hanged Man… reshuffled. The Knight of Swords… Absolutely not. Ten of Swords. Five of Swords… The Moon.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, tea long turned bitter and cold on the table beside me, staring at the cards as if they might speak louder than my thoughts. The light from the window cut through the room, dust motes drifting like tiny specters.

It had been days now, and each draw made my chest tighten a little more.

Omen watched me intently, flicking his tail, ears flattened against his skull, as though he, too, felt the tension hovering in the air.

I pulled my brows together, biting my lips, whispering, “What the hell…”

Normally, the Death card would mean nothing more than change. Transformation. The gentle, clichéd stuff you tell teenage girls not to overthink. But because of the other cards, it didn’t feel gentle. Something sharp edged around it, slicing through my calm.

I tried to tell myself it was nothing. Tried to move through life like I normally did: baking pies, delivering orders to Lindy, grabbing coffee with friends. I laughed and smiled, went through motions, but a shadow licked at the base of my spine, whispering that something was coming.

Sometimes, I drifted entirely out of the moment. Rosa had to snap her fingers in front of my face.

“You good there, Phina?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah… can’t wait to see how you use these?!” I shoved another crate into the back of her pickup truck – well, Garrick’s pickup, he generously lent her.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot lately. You sure you good?”

“Yeah, yeah…” I forced a smile, though my stomach still lurched like a warning bell. “It’s been a crazy two months, I just… I want life to slow down a bit.”

We closed the back, and she looked at me. She was not wearing her usual office clothes – tactical pants and a short-sleeve compression shirt. She was ripped. Way more than I’d realized. Guess, Garrick’s weekend workouts with tractor tires clearly weren’t a joke.

I walked over to the driver’s side as she sat inside.

“So… see you tonight?” her deep brown eyes studied my face.

“Sure…” I bit my lip, forcing a smile. She drew her brows together playfully. 

“You’re not thinking about ditching it, right? We promised Sam to drink tequila with her…”

“Ah, yeah. I remember. And no, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” I nodded, forcing my thoughts to leave the cards behind, at least for now.

We waved goodbye, and as I walked back toward the quiet of my house, the cards burned in my mind. Each one a whisper, a warning I couldn’t shake. Something was coming, and no amount of mundane life could hold it off.

I shook my head as I walked through the door, the gust catching papers off the table and sending them skittering across the floor. The curtain lifted, cards and papers tumbled like a small storm, and I swore an upstairs door slammed somewhere with a big clang.

Bloody hell. End of August had been windy as hell.

I stepped toward the mess, and froze. Tarot cards laid scattered, multiple decks mixed together. My stomach tightened. I bent down, splaying my fingers carefully to avoid touching too many at once. One card had flipped, lying face-up just beneath the others.

I swallowed. Slowly, cautiously, I lifted it.

The Devil.

The edges of the card felt impossibly sharp in my fingers. My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to take a slow breath, leaning back on my heels. The wind howled through the cracks in the window, rattling the loose boards above, and it felt like the room itself had grown smaller, heavier.

The night of the summer fair I got dressed with a tight stomach. That night I got a deep purple velvet dress on, little straps leaving my arms bare, hem twisting around my ankles. I also grabbed a cute little bag – nothing functional, but my phone, wallet and protective crystals fit into it just right. 

I took the Camaro again – it was a fricking annoying walk to get it back… Stupid Sheriff even waved at me as I was walking over the town to acquire it. But I used it quite a lot lately. Usually I parked it in my driveway. Now that the garage was empty, I kept my little cherry convertible inside rather than the Camaro… I did not want the weather clawing on the cherry red paint and leather seats. 

I parked my car near the police station – a bit of a walk from the town square, but I knew my car would be safe there… I also liked annoying the Sheriff, and sometimes even the smallest sign of my presence was enough to set him off. 

I walked to the town square, mixing in with the crowd, enjoying the light summer breeze. Once again, the town square was decorated with lanterns, fairy lights; they had many fair games set up as well. The scent of candy and fried food was mixing into the air. Children were running around with little sparkling sticks, laughter and music danced around the dark corners.

I loved these events, there was something in the air, something mildly nostalgic. Faint memories of visiting something like this with my Nana passed my mind, but I could not quite grasp it. 

I met up with Sam and Rosa – who were already wreaking havoc by the liquor stand. However, we all settled on a mocktail rather than something alcoholic… The last time we drank together left us all with the sort of headache that prompts you to say ‘I’m never drinking again’. It’s a lie of course, but at least you laugh with your friends about it later.

We walked around the booths, Sam was amazed by the vibes. She loved it, and told me that this was the vibe, this small town nostalgia that was screaming from some of my spells. I just smiled at Rosa, as Samantha was enjoying the night. 

I noticed there were way more officers out… I found it weird but did not comment on it. 

“Oh my god, is that cotton candy?” Sam screamed and I was dragged along the next second. It was refreshing… Her energy, the flirty woman, with sharp wit in business and a childlike nature she let shine that night. Sam was a wonder to me, she did as she pleased and she did not apologize. 

And so we ended up sitting on a bench, all three of us with a cotton candy – I don’t even like that stuff, but it was a fun bonding experience with the ladies. Three of us sharing different colored and ‘flavoured’ scones – they all tasted the same, fight me. 

“Good evening, ladies!” Johnny walked up to us in uniform, Garrick tagging along with him. 

“Officers,” we nodded and I looked Johnny up and down. 

“Night shift?” I asked. 

“No, just like cosplaying,” he answered and I rolled my eyes. 

“You’re a little too sarcastic for a man who has a sheep tattooed on his forearm,” my eyes flipped back to his with a smug smirk. 

“The ladies dig it, Phiny,” he yanked his sleeve up as Garrick was looking at his wife with a pout and with an expression that said ‘that’s my friend, the guy who has my back in the field’. “Like look at it.” 

“I’m looking, Johnny, I’m sure there are women out there who’d appreciate your… childlike energy.” I said with a smile and tried not sounding condescending. He gave me a deadpan look. 

“Simon said it looked good,” he pouted and Garrick almost choked as I laughed. 

Sam looked at us, like she didn’t fully understand, but I explained that Johnny’s Simon was Officer Riley. Whom Sam called that ‘big teddy with murderous eyes’ – yeah, she did. 

I ended up giving my stick of cotton candy to Johnny, leaving the little group behind and went to wash my hands at the fountain. I said hi to a few familiar faces who passed me by. I poured cold water onto my fingers, then I pushed my hand over the fabric covering my chest and leaned to drink a few sips of water, getting the artificial taste off my tongue. 

“Hey there,” I heard a familiar voice, and I straightened up, throwing my hair back. Brushed the water from my lips and I smiled at the lanky boy. 

“Hey, Jed,” I stepped off the step and stood in front of him. “How’s it going?” 

“All good,” he said with a shy, crooked smile. I tilted my head trying to catch his eyes. “Listen, I uh, wanted to apologize for the… bar stuff… I did not mean to come onto you that harshly.” 

“It’s all good,” I laughed. “You were kinda funny actually.” 

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he scratched the side of his neck nervously, and in the faint golden lights, it almost seemed his cheeks turned a shade darker. 

I spent another 10 minutes convincing him that he was good… And in return? he tried convincing me to dance with him. Just one time. 

Like, I knew guys… I kinda got to see all their tricks over the years, but I could not refuse him. Don’t get me wrong, Jed was a handsome guy et al, he had a nice tan, nice lean muscles going on for him, but I did not feel that thing in my chest, you were supposed to. He was truly a sweet guy, he just lacked the grumpy exterior and constant shittyness that I was attracted to, apparently… 

I turned my head to the makeshift dancefloor. Country music, innocent enough, people were line dancing, so I agreed. I held his hand and even giggled as we copied what people were doing in front of us. I genuinely enjoyed dancing with him, until the next track was a slow dance. 

He looked at me with puppy eyes and reached his hand towards me. 

“Jed…” I sighed, tilting my head. 

“Come on, Ms. Seraphina, it’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with me in 3 minutes,” he said and I shook my head with a chuckle. 

“Okay, but no inappropriate touching, fratboy” I warned him and he rolled his eyes pulling me in. 

We gently swayed and after I finished laughing in embarrassment, I actually eased into his embrace. I kept looking over his shoulder, Sam grinned like the devil herself – she was already dragging that poor cowboy to the dancefloor; Rosa was giggling alongside Garrick, and Johnny was shoving pink cotton candy into his face, looking slightly nervous next to Officer Riley. 

I rested my chin against Jed’s shoulder as we swayed on. I lazily studied the square; it seemed people actually liked dancing. Quite a lot of them remained, mostly couples. I caught a glimpse of a girl group, a young blonde’s sad eyes, and I sighed, but before I could say something to Jed about it, I noticed him. 

Standing off to the side, in full uniform, hat on his head, covering his eyes with a cigar between his lips. He looked too good… 

He was leaning against the wall in one of the more secluded parts of the town square, all alone,  but he still had the view… He could look directly at me – disapprovingly.  

Smoke danced around his dark frame, his steady, muscular body sculpted like a threat in the darkness. Those bugs, those fluttering little creatures suddenly felt the need to wake in my stomach. I almost fell over my legs as I felt his cold, stormy eyes on me. 

He was unreadable, per usual… Looking like the Greek god, he was. 

What, no? Shut up… We’re not going there – I scolded myself, and jerked my head to the side, already pushing Jed back a bit. He looked down at me surprised. 

“Listen here, love,” I looked seriously into his eyes. “Do you like Molly?” 

“What sort of question is that?” he looked at me utterly confused and I shook my head, pushing a finger onto his chest. 

“Just answer the question,” I glared up at him, and he got too nervous to look into my eyes. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess… She’s cool or whatever.” he confessed with a nervous huff and I nodded. 

“Cool, well, she has a crush on you,” and on Johnny, and really the whole police department, but who could blame the girl… And I knew that look in her eyes, she was dead set on Jed, even though he was an idiot.  “She is standing right there with her friends, why don’t you ask her to dance?” I signalled with my chin behind him.

“What, we are just friends?” he shook his head, and I rolled my eyes. 

“Seriously, men are so fucking blind sometimes.” I cursed and I grabbed his shirt, yanked him down to me, our gaze locked on and his eyes were wide. “She. Likes. You. Simple as that, now go talk to her.” I pushed him, and he stumbled off the dancefloor, and I just shook my head. 

Jeez… I should’ve done it much earlier, but they’ll figure it out. “We’re just childhood friends, my ass,” I mumbled and walked off the dancefloor to a completely different direction. 

I plopped down to a bench, sighing in relief. High heels were not the most practical for walking around all night. I crossed my legs, and enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet. 

I watched the square… On long lines lanterns were dancing in the light breeze, lampposts were wrapped in fairy lights, and the voice of the singer carried with the wind. Officer Garrick made Rosa spin around, he looked at her with such soft eyes I could not help but smile. And Jed? He was giggling with Molly, their friendship blossoming, or maybe more… 

It was truly serene, and I finally got to enjoy the moment. No withering looks, no hateful comments, or humiliation. A quiet night spent with friends in the town I grew to love. 

Only… It seemed peace and quiet never lasted too long. 

Movement caught my eyes. 

Police officers tensed up, or stopped in their tracks. Not many noticed, but my eyes caught Officer Riley lock gaze with Johnny, while a rookie looked at them with big eyes. 

I turned my head towards the dancefloor, and sure enough Officer Garrcik kissed his wife’s head and left promptly, joining the men to the side. And the sheriff… His whole body was screaming tension, brisk steps, shoulders squared, jaw locked. His hands were grabbing onto his radio on his chest, and his eyes were steady and serious. 

I stood from the bench as Rosa approached me. I looked at her with big eyes. 

“What happened?” I asked as she grabbed my hand, pulling me to a more secluded area. Her deep brown eyes fell into mines.

“They've found another body.” she said quietly, biting her lips. 

“What?” my eyes widened, and I was sure the color drained from my face as she continued. 

“A woman. Just outside of town. A few miles from the Northern edge…” she said and we both fell silent. 

An uncomfortable shiver ran down my spine. The breeze did not feel gentle anymore, the woods whispered in the distance as the wind picked up, making the lanterns sway more, and the laughter felt like the calm before the storm. 

I gulped suddenly being aware of something. 

“Where is Sam?" I mumbled and Rosa turned her head back towards me. Mouth falling open then closing. 

I tried calling her phone, and Rosa was asking around, checking with vendors and her subordinates if they’ve seen the blonde woman... It’s been a good half an hour as we were running around with Rosa, and then she spotted her. 

Sam had a worried look in her eyes as she was dragging her not-my-boyfriend-not-a-farmer summer fling after herself. We started to walk to her, to meet her. She let go of her guy and stopped right in front of us.

“You guys are alright?” her voice was out of character serious. 

“I’ve been calling you!” I said immediately, voice immediately shaking. 

“I’ve left my phone at the airbnb…” she shook her head, brows drawn together in distress as her eyes switched between Rosa and I. She lowered her voice and leaned in. “A lady told me they’ve found a woman in the woods,” 

The three of us stood there, in complete silence, as the town around us was blissfully unaware of what was going on. And I did not, for the love of God, understand why I was so upset… But neither did the two women. 

We ended up at mine. 

After the gruesome revelation at the fair, Rosa and Sam decided to come over, just to talk. To decompress. But the impromptu visit, later turned into a night spent at mine.

We were sitting in my kitchen with tea. It was bloody late, and the breeze turned into a violent windstorm outside. Rosa got a call from Garrick a few hours prior – he said he was definitely not going home that night… 

Rosa told us what was going on, since Garrick told her little snippets of information. Sam was otherwise unaware of the things that went down in the beginning of the month. So, we filled her in on the whole story, and sure enough she shook her head. 

“What is this little town, really?” she sipped her tea, perfectly manicured fingers tapping on the ceramic. 

“I mean, many more murders happen in the city…” I sighed, leaning back on the bar stool, Omen curled up on my lap, pretending to be asleep. 

“Yeah, but this sounds oddly like… some sort of serial killer.” She really voiced what we did not dare to say. We turned my head slightly to Rosa.

“It's not confirmed.” Rosa said, biting her lip. “Hell, nothing is official with this investigation, really…” 

“But it’s possible?” I asked and she nodded softly. 

“The bodies that turned up were old… One of them was possibly murdered, like, in late December/early January, then the other one March, maybe April…" Rosa offered details that were not yet shared with the public. “Nothing is confirmed, the department that originally dealt with it was not very thorough with the details but… And Kyle said that there is a possible pattern… But the only solid thing is that the victims so far were all reported to be missing, then would end up in the woods 3 months later.” 

“Oh my God,” Samantha mumbled, as I could not help myself and signed a little cross. “Yeah, it's understandable why this information would be a secret.”

“Yeah, tell me about it…” Rosa sighed, shaking her raven locks. “It’s messy… they’ve been investigating day and night really, but like… they cannot find any pointers. Kyle said they hoped that it would be a singular thing, but if there is a fresh body…” 

We all fell silent. 

We tried to talk about something mildly less chilly, to distract ourselves, but we were all tired. 

“I have extra rooms if you want to stay over.” I said finally. “Extra towels, and more clothes than I would like to admit…” offered with a small smile.

Rosa hated sleeping without Kyle, and Samantha did not want to spend her last night alone, and so I happened to have multiple empty rooms ready to accept guests. Not that any sleeping was happening.

But they stayed, and I guess we all needed that… to not be alone, when there was a possible serial killer lurking just outside of town. And Briar Hollow was safe, sure.

But the wind whistled differently that night.

— — — – – – – – – – –

We had a big breakfast. 

I woke up to brew coffee and bake some blueberry jam – white chocolate muffins I knew they both loved. 

It was a good morning, reminding me of the time when I used to live in a dorm while I was studying at university. Only now, there was that dark undertone – none of us could truly forget about the previous night. And now, the local news was reporting on it too… 

Oh, looking at his face on the TV – his heavy blue eyes, handsomely rugged face – I just knew the Sheriff skipped sleep last night. 

Not that I cared… It’s just, whatever. 

After breakfast we all drove back to town, and I offered to drive Sam to the airport a few towns away. It was not a long drive, maybe an hour or two. And I had the time and means to drive her, instead of calling a taxi. 

She agreed, so after she was packed, said her byes to everybody she wanted to, I picked her up in my little red convertible. My forever companion, who got me through multiple states and whom I trusted more than that old Camaro that only got back on the roads maybe a week or two ago. 

We finally agreed on the music we should listen to, when I noticed the police lights. Just after the ‘You’re now leaving Briar Hollow’ sign, multiple police vehicles were standing to the side, and police officers were pulling cars over. 

We too were asked to pull over. 

The department’s biggest man walked up to my car, I blinked up at him, surprised.

“Hey, Officer Riley,” I smiled at him.

“Ms. Seraphina. Ms. Wood,” he nodded, and I noticed another familiar big man talking to a rookie officer to the side. 

“Uh, is there any problem?” 

“Nothing serious. We’ve set up a temporary checkpoint” he explained calmly, his deep, gruff voice filling my car. “Everyone leaving town is being stopped.” His brown eyes scanned the car, calm but serious.

Sam leaned forward. “Oh! Why?”

“There’s an active investigation in the woods,” Riley said matter-of-factly. “So for safety, we’re asking folks not to detour onto side roads, not to let anyone hitch a ride, and to report anything unusual if you see it.”

He sounded very formal. I nodded along, taking mental notes. 

“Of course, Officer” I matched his seriousness, but then a smile tugged on my lips, and he huffed calmly. 

“Are you returning to town tonight, Ms. Seraphina?” he asked in a slightly less formal tone and I nodded as his softer tone put me at ease. 

“I’m hoping to be back in town before sunset.” 

“That's good.” he nodded, his brown eyes now visibly less tense and I smiled at him. 

“Am I good to go, Lt?” I asked, imitating Johnny’s word-use and he scoffed. 

“Don’t,” he shook his head, but a small smirk tugged on his lips. “Drive safe.” 

“Sure, bye.” I breathed with a soft smile. 

I pulled the car back onto the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the faint reflection of the sheriff’s dark glasses turning toward us, but I kept driving.

For a beat, the car was quiet. Then Sam chuckled. “These big men. They all turn into softies around you.” She shook her head. “You really are some kind of love witch.”

“Please don’t call me that.” I laughed, turning my head ahead and changed gear. 

“I can see it on the billboards: Don’t fret –  The love witch is here to help!”

“Shut up” I laughed and he smiled at me, as far as I could tell from the side of my eyes. 

It was a long drive to the city… and I did not love the chaos that came with it anymore. It was loud, fast, and violent. I hated it. I completely forgot about how much city people cursed and honked on the packed roads. Let’s not even talk about the road-rage. 

And ew, the looks. At least in the small town I did not have to deal with disrespect… in the city, catcalling was a thing. I did not understand the culture behind it, really. 

I drove Sam out to the airport. I waited with her to check her luggage in, get her documents checked too. She was comfortable with airports, she flew more than me, that’s for sure. 

She joked that check-ins on a broom were probably easier.  I did not find her amusing. 

I walked her to the farthest point I could go at the small airport. We chatted for a while, she assured me that the book will do just fine and she won’t let the board tear it apart. Then she hugged me softly, her familiar fragrance twirling around me. 

“I’m going to miss you!” she swayed with me as I laughed uncomfortably, but I kept my arms around her. Touch was not my favorite, but I let the people who loved me hug me. 

“Thank you so much for coming out, Sam… You have no idea how much this helped, like really.” I pulled back and she grinned at me. 

“You’re very welcome, darling.” She rested her hands on my upper arms. “And as we agreed, I’ll see you in a month, okay?” 

“Sure, sure, don’t worry, I’ll be there.” I smiled at her. 

“I gotta run.” she checked her watch. “Careful on the roads home.” 

“You know me,” I giggled and she shook her head with a big grin. 

“That I do.”

— — — – – – – – – – –

There was some sort of accident in the city as I started to drive back… I sat in traffic for at least a good hour. The noise of honking loud in my skull, and no matter how unfriendly my face looked, bored people liked looking at pretty vintage cars.

I also got some suggestive shouts, offering to be my sugar daddies, to which the answer was “You cannot afford me,” and a gentle curse mumbled after it.

The sun was setting when I finally got out of that goddamn city. I was tired, stressed, head aching from all the noise and bad energy. I wasn’t the biggest fan of cities. And Briar Hollow was just too kind to me, I got comfortable. I got used to kind people, even the witch accusations were more fun than the catcalling. 

I turned off the highway an hour later, and I was driving in almost complete darkness. Tall trees leaning in, canopy hiding the sky. I felt like a little serpent on the road with all the twists and turns. 

But the farther I drove, the thinner the world became. Dark swallowed everything just a few feet beyond. The shadows of branches stretched like long fingers across the asphalt. The canopy pressed down so tight I couldn’t see a single star. The air itself felt heavy…

I was never afraid of the woods… I've always adored nature, but there was something weird about them that night. With all the whispers, the murders, the sleepwalking… it was hard to trust them anymore. 

My red convertible speeded along the dark treelines, headlights barely illuminating the road ahead of me. I was not speeding… not really, I was going a bit faster than I was supposed to but the road towards Briar Hollow was almost always… well, empty.

Not that night. 

 My eyes widened, and I slammed my feet on the breaks.

The tires screeched and slipped against the asphalt, the back of the car swirling side-to-side.

Then the car came to a halt. 

I was breathing heavily, knuckles turning white on the wheel. Everything got quiet for a second, my ears were filled with the loud beating of my heart, and the shuddering breaths that left my lips. I swallowed hard.

I pulled my shaking hands from the wheel, and fumbled with the door. It clicked open, and placed my shaky feet on the dark road.

A black car. Headlights on – only one. 

A deer. 

Bleeding out on the road. 

My legs were shaking for the first few steps. I was moving slowly, eyes darting between the car and the body on the road. My eyes narrowed in on the deer. 

Its neck was twisted in an unnatural angle. Sad eyes, dark, boring into mine as the muscles in its body were moving. 

Its leg twitched, but the chest was still. 

It was dead. 

My lips twitched, and I forced myself to focus on the car. 

I turned my steps, and the front of the car came into view.

The beeping became louder as I closed in on the vehicles. Motor still running, one of the lamps busted. The windshield broken, the cracks branching out in a web so dense it looked frosted over.

The driver’s door was ajar. My heavy breathing mixed with the ever so loud beeps. 

My boots creaked on the fallen shards and small rocks. I stopped as I pulled the door open. 

There was no driver. 

The faint smell of cologne twisted in the cold, earthy smell.

My hands shook, but I killed the engine.

Eerie silence fell onto the woods. 

No birds, no rustling, no engines running. 

Just complete, utter silence.

My hands shook as I stood beside the black car. The darkness was impenetrable. The only illuminated space was around the two cars, but the headlight seemed weak against the woods’s oozing midnight black. 

Then it dawned on me. 

I was alone. 

My eyes teared up and with hurried steps I walked back to my car. 

Grabbed my phone and as I dialed 911, I could feel it.

Eyes on me. 

The dispatcher was nice enough to stay on the line with me. She was great, really. Her voice was calming as she was aware of mine shaking on the line. I told her everything, standing beside my car, not daring to sit, because it felt too vulnerable. Too exposed. 

In the distance I could hear the sirens, and I tried to focus on the dispatcher, still asking me questions.

The man in the wood… - a whisper tickled my ear, and the hair on my neck stood up. 

I gasped and shut my eyes. Tried to keep the whispers out. 

“Ms. Barlow? Are you okay?” the voice of the dispatcher sounded distant. “Did you suffer any injuries during your stop?” the woman's voice came through the phone again. 

I could not answer her. I was tearing up, fingers clutching the phone too hard, and that burning feeling on my back… My instincts were screaming, somebody was close. Somebody was watching. 

The man in the wood… Tell them… 

I was trying to stop the tears at this point, eyes shut, jaw clenched, shaking my head.

Tell them… 

Tire screeches, faint lights, distance noises reached me, but all I could focus on were the constant whispers. Growing louder and louder.

Foot steps, boots turning on the hot asphalt, someone was barking orders, and my ears just would not stop ringing. 

The man in the woods. It repeated again. Tell them. Tell him.

“Ms. Barlow?” a blurry image of someone big. Voice distant even though he was standing in front of me. “Ms. Barlow?” he hesitantly, slowly reached for me, as I shut my eyes.

The man in the woods… I felt the whispers mix with my voice. “There is… There’s a man, a man in the woods. There’s a man in the woods."

“Seraphina!” 

That all it took. 

My eyes flew open and with a big gasp I clutched onto his shirt.

His blue eyes came to focus, the loud noise of police cars sliced through the dark woods, flashing lights, loud scrunch of boots running from the cars. It was chaos, eyes darting between the dark figures, the cars, and the carcass. 

I felt his big warm hands on my upper arms, my eyes snapped up to him. I noticed I was still mumbling something. He was standing so close…

“Hey, hey,” his gravel voice came out soft, deep, calming as his eyes rested on me. “Slow it down for me…” he looked at me, and as my chest heaved I looked up at him, and I felt this urge. I just had to…

“There’s a man in the woods.” I said, voice weak, my jade eyes locked onto his. He did not seem surprised. He was calm as ever, his warm hands slowly moved up and down on my bare arms, skin cold. I was still grabbing onto his vest, his shirt underneath it. His scent, that cologne and smoke, faintly brushing my cheek, sneaking up around me like mist. I could not look away from those steady eyes. 

Mere inches were between us, my head was tipped back so I could keep the eye contact. My lips quivered, and his eyes… He wasn’t judging me, he did not look at me as if I was crazy. He tried to understand, tried to ground me. His big calloused hands gently squeezed my arms.

“Sheriff!” a voice cut through the cold air and he turned his head reluctantly, ever so slightly, so his eyes could remain on me. “There’s a man!” one of his officers called and that yanked me back to reality. 

Something clicked, I turned my head to look after the officer disappearing into the woods. And I became aware. I was too close to Price. Him towering above me, gently leaning forward, I could feel his breath on top of my head, the heat radiating from his big body, shielding me from whatever chaos was going on behind him. 

My eyes were darting between his chest and the woods, and he leaned a bit down, trying to catch my eyes. His hands squeezed my bare flesh again. 

“Hey, listen here, you did good,” his voice was soothing. He's never spoken to me so softly before. My jade greens locked onto his stormy blues. “You did good, now calm down…” I breathed in his scent and I felt the urge to fall into him… To just step closer and let him hug me, but… I could not move.

“MacTavish!” His voice was sharp and deep, he tore his eyes from me as Johnny ran up to us.I felt his hands slowly slid off of me, and I let go of him, hands shaking. Johnny’s eyes darted to me, and the order cut through the night. 

Cold. Formal. Dismissing.

“Get her statement.” 

And the sheriff walked off, Johnny taking his place. Still, my eyes were fixed on the man’s broad shoulders and big body. I followed him until he, too, disappeared into the darkness. 

“Hey, Phiny, it’s okay, come on, breathe.” He gently guided me to lean against my car and he shook his jacket off, wrapping it  around me. 

Suddenly, I was slapped with the ice cold evening. The woods were cruel, creaking in the wind that was picking up, chilly fingers of the darkness grabbing onto my exposed skin. A shiver shook my body. 

Johnny stood there with me, 20 minutes, yet it seemed like an eternity. 

The night was filled with distant conversation, people walking with purpose.

They’ve found a man in the woods… From what I gathered, they thought he probably hit his head and became disoriented. They speculated… that’s why he wandered into the woods. 

It was a typical accident. Just an unfortunate event – they said – a deer getting hit as the start of the hunting season snuck up on us… 

But the way some police officers were acting… There was something more. Something they would not disclose to a civilian. 

“Hey, how is she?” Garrick walked up to us and my eyes blinked to him. 

“Bit shocked, but she’s alright,” Johnny answered and he rubbed my back with a reassuring smile. Puppy eyes catching mines. “Right, Phiny?” 

“Ah, yeah, yeah,” I shook my head, locks falling around me. I forced a smile that did not seem to convince the two men. “Ugh, can I go now? I had a long day…” 

“Sure, yes,” Johnny looked at me. He did take my statement before. He mostly let me talk, letting me gather everything I could remember and he was gentle with the whole questioning. He made sure only to ask the questions that were utterly necessary. 

“Do you want me to call Rosalinde?” Garrick asked and he, using her full name, snapped me from my hazy state again. They both looked at me with a bit worry in their eyes, and I huffed

“Uh, no, I'm fine.” I shook my head with a smile, already shaking Johnny's coat off.

 “You sure? because, she would be more than happy to–” Garrcik tried to convince me, but I stopped him, looking into his eyes. 

“I really am fine, Garrick, thank you… Thanks, Johnny" I gave him back the jacket. Then I shook myself a little, getting a more honest smile on my face. “ I just need a hot shower… I'll see you around.” 

I got back into my car and within a few minutes, I waved a little and I was slowly rolling away from the crime scene. Some police officers opened the cordons for me; an ambulance was already there, trying to get the man into a transportable state. 

I finally left, driving slower.

My hands were still shaking against the wheel. I could not look back, could not force myself to look at the tall man in my review mirror staring after my car.

My eyes were fixed on the dark roads ahead.

And I could not help it. 

The contorted body of the deer kept flashing in my mind. 

But when I shut my eyes, it wasn’t the deer’s gaze I saw –  it was a man’s.

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading! Also-also, thank you so much for the kind words. I'm moving today btw, but I'll try editing the new parts soon. Many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 13]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: slow burn, angst (?), i do cuss a little, age gap (hehe), occult, alcohol consumption, suggestive language, abuse of power, mean price, mention of embalmed body, mention of blood, mention of drunk driving, i honestly don't know you guys this one is very heavy on conversation, still searching for the perfect balance... anywayssss, hope you'll enjoy :))

Walking Contradiction

I was sitting in front of Oldie & Goldie. Outside coffee tables, and uncomfortable chairs were made more pleasant by big, velvet pillows and rich-colored cloths. Marla, Etta and Ms. Joy were drinking pink iced tea – my brew – Rosa and I sipped our coffee we got from Ms. Dotti’s. Our eyes were fixed on the blonde hurricane across the road. 

We all leaned just a bit forward, as she was saying bye to a farmer – he was dressed more like a cowboy, really… Her body language was screaming, but she was playful, a bit coy, turning away almost shyly only to be pulled back by her arm and kissed

We laughed and cheered like men did when they watched their favorite team score. 

“Knew it. What a woman,” Ms. Joy said, slapping her hands together. 

“Amazing game. Push-and-pull,” Marla said, glancing at Etta, who was already clicking her tongue

“It always works,” Etta giggled, then narrowed her eyes at me. “Takin’ notes, little magpie?”

“Please, she’s the love witch. She knows this already,” Rosa teased. I shoved her arm, still watching Samantha click across the street in kitten heels.

“Hey, ladies,” she smiled, lipstick a little smudged, cheeks blooming pink.

“Fabulous seduction, blondie,” Marla clapped softly.

“Oh, please.” Samantha grinned.

“You’re gonna break the poor cowboy’s heart,” I said, sipping my coffee. The women groaned in unison.

“Please, he knows it’s not serious,” Samantha said, twirling a lock of blonde hair. “Just a summer fling.”

She’d decided to stay another week – officially to finish up the last details of the spellbook. Unofficially? for the summer closing fair. We’d sent the manuscript to the publisher; she’d take the originals back to the city for scanning and digital touch-ups.

Samantha plopped into the chair beside me, kicking one heel off under the table, with a sigh that said I have conquered. I handed her my compact to touch up her lipstick.

“Oh, she’s glowing,” Etta teased, fanning herself with a napkin.

“That’s the farmer tan rubbing off on her,” Rosa smirked, and I nearly snorted coffee through my nose.

“Rude,” Samantha said, though her grin betrayed her. “And he’s not a farmer. He just sells his cousin’s peaches at the market.”

“Selling peaches? Is that what they’re calling it now?” Ms. Joy asked, raising a perfectly penciled brow.

We howled. Samantha pretended to pout, crossing her legs. “I’m going to miss this. The city doesn’t gossip half as well as you do here.”

“That’s because in the city you have to pay for entertainment,” Marla said, leaning back. “Here, we make it ourselves.”

“You’ve certainly been making it,” Etta said, sipping her pink tea with exaggerated daintiness.

Samantha reached over and stole my coffee, taking a sip without asking. “You’re all just jealous,” she said, setting it back down like it was hers now. I could hardly contain my laughter. 

“Jealous?” Rosa leaned in. “Sweetheart, I share my bed with one of those hot officers you’ve been drooling over.” She wiggled her ring finger and I chuckled. Rosa and Samantha were on the same wavelength. They were snappy, their teasing sharper between each other than with me – and with that, wildly entertaining. 

“Ah, speaking of officers…” She slid her sunglasses down her nose. “Look at that.” 

I followed her gaze. Across the street, a small swarm of uniforms spilled out of the grocery store. Johnny herding a rowdy teen, Officer Riley gripping the back of a bigger boy’s neck. Garrick was calming down the shop owner, still shouting about a prank the boy’d pull. 

And then him – Sheriff John Price. 

He rubbed his eyes, tilted his head back toward the sky like he was questioning his life choices. I took in his form, long legs in his dark uniform pants, sleeves rolled up to reveal veined forearms, broad shoulders straining under the weight of his vest. 

To my horror, Samantha whistled. 

My eyes widened. His head snapped toward us. Toward me. For a breathless second, his eyes locked on mine. My stomach dropped with uncomfortable speed. I snapped my gaze away from him, the pictures of the dream flooding my head. 

“Eh, what was that?” Samantha asked with a shit-eating grin. The ladies turned toward me like skulls in horror movies.

“I cannot believe you whistled at him!” I hissed.

“No, no, darlin’” Marla said, still watching him. “Let's not change the subject. The sheriff seemed rattled, as well,” Marla eyes the man across the street. 

“Did something happen, little starlet?” Etta’s fingers brushed mine, eyes faking softness.

“What? No!” My eyes flicked to hers.

“Not beating the accusations with those reactions,” Rosa giggled, leaving lipstick stains all over her straw.

Ms. Joy didn’t even look away from across the street. “Hm. The sheriff’s neck turned red… poor man, probably fighting the urge to ask you out.”

“Ms. Joy, that is delusional!” I groaned. “And how can you even see that from here?”

“Older woman intuition,” she said, shrugging. And they just would not quit staring at the man across the street.

“Jesus,” I slid down my chair, big shades in front of my eyes, crossing my arms like a teenager who has been embarrassed by their parents. Not that they did not care… They enjoyed our little back and forth with the sheriff, watching our interactions too… But I refused to share that dream with them… 

It was too personal… and it felt too real. 

– – – – – – – – – – – 

With finishing up all my projects, relatively quickly, I was back to sorting through my nana’s stuff. 

I could finally get the garage door open, and as it turned out, she had a car! It was buried under hundreds of boxes of memories, but she had a nice little vintage chevy. A ‘67 Camaro – or so I was told by Jed when he helped me roll it out from the garage. It was in good condition too, a bit dusty, needed serious check ups, but hey… I had the funds and so the car went to the Simons & Sons. 

Otherwise? I kept throwing out empty mason jars. Nana had an obsession with them apparently, and they took up most of the space in the garage. Yeah, I sorted through more clothes and books as well, and I took all her ‘BURN IT’ boxes up to my work room – her diaries were gold, honestly. 

I was in the garage, hugging a mason jar in which the embalmed body of a midsized goat would perfectly fit – don’t ask. I was debating whether to throw it out, or keep it and brew something in it. 

“Still renovating?” I yelped and almost yeeted the glass container across the garage. I spun around with wide eyes. 

“Sheriff! Seriously! Your station has a serious problem with sneaking up on people.” I put down the jar, and straightened up. 

“My apologies, Ms. Barlow,” he said and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, only men above 60 were calling me Ms. Barlow in town, nobody else anymore. Ms. Seraphina, sure, Ms. Barlow? hardly. Only him. 

“How can I help you, sheriff? In need of more tea, a hex? Love spell?” I joked and he raised his brow, as I kept pushing boxes with mason jars. 

“Hm, just, checkin' up on some calls…” he cleared his throat behind me as I bent over to pick up a box. I felt his eyes on me, mostly on my legs...

“Oh, of course…” I put the box on top of another with a big huff and steadied it. “Is it a long list? Something new? Interesting?” I turned to him with a crooked smile and raised brow. 

“Nothing, I assume, you’ve not heard before,” he flipped his notepad open, and rubbed his beard. I tilted my head… He was holding eye contact poorly, which struck me. But still, there he stood… On my property, once again. 

“I’ve been called– because, I quote – ‘The witch down the street has been preparing a den of sin, hoarding weird artifacts and seducing boys off their bikes. She has a goat with her once again.’ End quote.” He looked up from his notes, straight at me with tired blue eyes. “Would you like to explain yourself?”

“Ah, they’re getting lame… seriously, sprinkle in some broom flying or blood rituals, we’ve heard this before,” I sighed, shaking my head, but he was still looking at me for an explanation. I shifted my weight from one leg to another. “The goat, Henrietta, you remember her…” 

“How could I forget,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on his notepad scribbling something. 

“Well, my fence situation is quite the same, so it’s now a weekly routine… Walking her home and stuff…” I said shyly as his blue eyes slowly swam to me with a raised brow. 

“You’re walking a black goat on a leash, on a weekly basis, and you’re hoping the witch accusations will be subdued.” 

“I mean… You guys walk around with guns, nobody calls you murderers?” I blinked while redness crept up my neck. 

“That gun comes with a badge, Ms. Barlow,” he looked at me, and I would swear his lips were almost curling into a smile. Almost. 

“Minor detail…” I looked to the side, and turned away to one of the shelves. “Anymore accusations?” 

“No… I guess, they are getting used to you,” he said, “this, what did you call them… Snitch Squad?” he asked and I did not see his expression, but I turned tomato red. 

“I was emotional, sir… Should not have called them that.” I tried to grab a box from the top of the shelf, trying to distract myself. 

“Their behaviour is certainly not appropriate,” he said and just as I grabbed the side of the crate, back arching, and I froze. Did he seriously allude to the fact that maybe their unreasonable reaction was not my fault… 

As I was spiraling in my head, I felt the box slide towards me. I snapped my eyes back above, the crate full of mason jars rattling dangerously. I gasped, but before anything disastrous could have happened a big hand appeared next to mine. 

My eyes widened. His hand could have swallowed mine as a whole, long fingers, wide palm, thick forearm covered in hair. Then I felt his cologne, mixed with something similar to cigarette fume but not quite, and the heat on my back. Jesus, that man was most definitely overheating. 

I turned my head to the side. He was way too close, his blue eyes judging me. 

“I’m seriously wondering, how did you manage to stay alive this long,” he said in a gruff voice, then he signalled with his head to move, and I pulled my weak hand off the crate. I stepped to the side as he grabbed the heavy box with both hands and pulled it off the shelf. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“There, thank you…” I pointed to the ground, next to a few other boxes.

 He turned and put it where I’d pointed to. He leaned forward, big shoulders and arms moving, and I could not help it, my eyes inadvertently slipped to his butt. 

Jesus, I felt like a perv! 

Not a pervert, just assessing the goods… 

“Stop it.” The words slipped from my lips and the sheriff looked at me with raised brows. “You were saying?” I asked pretending to be innocent, not a crazy girl with voices in her head. 

“If you don’t mind me asking… What are you planning to do with this many jars?” his eyes slipped around my garage, and with him inside, the space felt suddenly smaller, a bit more suffocating, hotter… 

“I’m throwing them out,” I said, averting my eyes, walking towards the fresh air. It was hard to stay in the same space with him. He followed, and I felt his eyes on me. 

“You know… Rosalinde been complaining about some project involving enormous amounts of jars and not enough town funds,” he said calmly, his voice smooth, and I swear, the way he spoke almost made my knees buckle. 

“Really? She hasn't mentioned this to me…” I blinked up slowly at him, and his eyes lingered a beat longer on mine as he hummed.

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat as if catching himself, shifting his weight. “You might want to talk to her… She sounded desperate.” He pulled his brows together as if not sure the word sounded right. I chuckled. 

“I’ll call her immediately, sir,” I said and I noticed how his fingers twitched as I called him that. “Thank you for letting me know…” I smiled at him and he nodded. 

“Well, Mrs. Garrick probably would have made my life a living hell if I did not say something,” he tried to wave it off as he started to walk off my drive way, but it seemed his eyes caught something. I followed his gaze. 

The ladder from a few days ago still stood on my porch, sandpapers, tools laying unorganized on the little bench. A few lampshades still up, porch railings and columns bared of paint and hard surfaces – job left half-done because I got too frustrated. 

“Still working on that porch?” 

“I’m slowly getting there,” I clasped my hands behind me with a small smile, and tilted my head. “The lampshades, as you said, are stubborn.” 

Not the only stubborn things in this house –  my lashes fluttered. 

He seemed deep in thought for a few long seconds, then his deep blue eyes rested on me once again. 

“You keep at it like that, I’ll have to start patrolling your porch instead of the woods.” he shook his head. 

“You keep a close eye on me anyway, Sheriff Price,” I chuckled. 

“Well, I have to,” he walked backward. “Many complaints… Just don’t end up in the ER, Ms. Barlow.” 

“I’ll try not to.” I smirked and as he crossed the street to his cruiser, I bit my lip. 

Okay, a civil Sheriff Price… I could get used to that. 

– – – – – – – – – – 

It was really a whim decision. 

Samantha was bored, Rosa needed a break, and I had time on my hand.

Therefore, we all went to that bar in town that was frequented by everybody. Really, it was popular enough to get half the town folks hanging out there – town hall workers, some police officers, hell, even the college kids who were spending their last week at home before they had to leave for school. 

And that was honestly my misfortune. 

Jed was standing beside me by the bar. He most definitely didn’t know his limits when it came to drinking – typical of guys his age.

“Sera, hear me out – what if we just… gave it a try? You’n me?” 

He has been at it for a long time, liquid courage and all. I sighed, resting my chin in my palm. I eyed the lanky boy, too much cologne mixing with the smell of beer he's been consuming.

“Come on, Jed, we’ve talked about this. I’m too old for you.” I mumbled softly as his big, desperate eyes fell on my face. He was cute, sure... And I enjoyed his company -- when he did not try to get in my pants, that is.

“You’re not even that old!” he whined, I held back on the eye roll – that old. Smooth. 

“Eitherway, honey,” I straightened up, getting bored of the whole situation. “I prefer older men.” 

“People tell me I don’t look my age,” he offered. Yeah, right, he didn’t. He looked seven-teen.

“Still, lovie, you don’t look the part. I like men who are old.” I scrunched my nose as he blinked, he did not seem too convinced. “Like, disgustingly so. At least seventy-four.” I tried to say a number I knew his drunk mind could not process fully, but would still understand what I was saying.

“Seventy-four?” he almost shouted, heartbroken gasp slipping his lips. 

I nodded sadly, as Rosa and Samantha behind me tried their hardest not to explode of laughing. 

“Oh, man…” Jed rubbed his face. I was losing him.

I sighed, turning my head towards a booth and I glared at one of his friends. Another lanky boy, trying to sign to him for help. He finally understood, and walked up to us. 

“Come on, Jed, let the ladies be…" he looked at me, as I sent a grateful smile to him. "The others are going to the lake, that is more fun than this.” he patted Jed’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, the lake…” he nodded, slowly turning and walking off with his friend, but I still heard him mumble. “She said seventy-four...” 

Big breath left my lips in relief and Rosa and Sam were not holding back anymore, doubling over the bar counter, laughing, no, howling like wolves. 

“Jesus,” I took a long slip from my drink, lowering my eyes. That conversation was most definitely tiresome.

“Now, that was just cruel. Poor boy might think you have daddy issues?” Johnny teased, sliding into the empty space beside me. I looked at him, his little sheep tattoo exposed as his sleeves were rolled up. He, too, liked to take long baths in whatever cologne he was wearing. Well, at least his did not cause me headaches.

“And what if I do?” I shot back without missing a beat, raising my brows.

“Phiny, please,” he snorted, taking a long pull from his bottle. “You’re pretty and all, but it’s not exactly easy to make established older men swoon.” He wanted to lecture me on seduction. Mansplaning at its finest, really. 

“Are you talking about yourself, MacTavish?” Rosa raised her brow, finally catching some breath after her laughing fit. I glanced at her, her deep berry colored lips tugging into a teasing smirk.

“Well, I am older,” he admitted, smirking – he was maybe a year older than me, two. Top. “And I’m not sure Phiny actually got the… experience she claim to have.”

I turned my head slowly toward him, lips quirking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon,” he said, leaning in with that cocky little grin, his big shoulders pushing mine just a bit. “Older men don’t fall for your little tricks.” 

“Please, elaborate,” Sam bit her lower lips, seeing my lashes lower, mouth twitch a little. Oh, she knew me, knew all about my little conquests too. And Johnny? Johnny was sweet, but horribly, horribly naive when it came to me.

“They want substance. Patience. You can’t just bat your lashes and expect them to roll over.” Johnny straightened, his eyes resting behind me.

Rosa and Sam were already trying not to cackle. I let Johnny think he had the upper hand for half a breath, then let my smile curve sharper.

“You really want to test that theory?” I asked softly. I knew what sort of effect I had on men... Most importantly, my eyes.

Johnny blinked, his grin faltering just a touch. “What do y–” 

Words stuck in his throat. With two fingers, ever so softly, I turned his chin back toward me, his gaze falling into mine. My lashes lowered, jade greens finding his puppy blues, and my voice dropped just enough to send men shivering.

“Careful, Johnny, you might not want to delve too much… into my indecent endeavours." 

His knees buckled and with a loud slam, he pushed his beer over, cursing and coughing. Sam and Rosa howled and I started to laugh, as well. It was too easy. 

“Phiny, for fuck sake…” Johnny was breathless, cheeks red, trying to collect the remnants of his dignity. 

“Johnny,” the voice came low like a growl. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Lt, listen, it’s not like– it’s Phiny, uh–” Johnny tried to collect himself under the dark eyes of his superior, and I turned away slowly, back to the women sitting beside me, a painful smile on my lips. Oops. 

“It told you; don’t drink if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“But Lt! It’s really not that,” Johnny stammered, ears scarlet, eyes darting between me and his lieutenant. He half-rose, half-fell, trying to collect himself. 

“Come on,” Officer Riley grabbed the back of Johnny's collar with an exasperated sigh, pushing him towards a booth in the back. I could not help but giggle, until I felt that scent. 

A heavy hand weighed on the back of my stool, and my lashes fluttered as the tall man reached over the counter, taking a beer like he owned the place. 

“Wreaking havoc again, miss,” his blue eyes were on me, eyelids lowered just a little. 

“Just having a bit of, uh, fun, Sheriff…” I said as my jade gaze found him, and I could not help that shiver dashing down my spine. 

“With my officers, Ms. Barlow?” He raised his brow. 

“Well, Johnny had a big mouth,” I twirled my drink with the little straw as he hummed, then his words made me freeze completely. 

“That he has… but,” he agreed, and I felt him lean, just a little. “seventy-four’s a bit excessive, though. Don’t you think?” he asked and it dawned on me. 

Oh my god, he fucking heard it all. 

He smirked seeing my flustered face, then walked off with confident, not hurried steps. I sat there completely frozen, completely red, eyes still following his tall, muscular body. I turned back to my girls in a painfully slow motion. 

They were looking at me with biting lips and my lashes fluttered low, before they started to laugh once again. 

“I swear to god, this night keeps getting better, and better.” Samantha was brushing a tear away, and Rosa waved to the bartender for another round. 

“Phina, you can’t even deny it. You’re still red.” Sam pointed at me with her perfectly manicured fingers.

“It’s the alcohol,” I grunted, shaking my shoulders and sitting up straighter. 

“Sure it is,” Sam chuckled. “What brand are you having? John Walker?” she squinted and Rosa hummed along. 

“Mm, yeah, with two ounces of Rhum Black Sheriff?” berry lips curled, and Samantha giggled into her drink. 

“Shut up,” I whined, planting my hands over my eyes.

Thankfully, they let it go soon enough... and we continued to drink. 

It was most definitely fun, we were in good spirits, as none of us was really used to hard liquor. And in that small town, the bar owner mixed drinks a bit stronger than how bartenders mixed in the city. We got a bit carried away.  

Sam was once again with her farmer/cowboy summer-fling guy, and I was still perched on the bar stool.

Rosa was picked up by Officer Garrick – he was smiling at his wife’s antics, her flirting with him shamelessly. 

“Look at you, so handsooome,” Rosa slurred her words, hugging Garrick over his shoulders. 

“Alright, darlin’, thank you,” he chuckled, grabbing Rosa's hands that were pulling on his cheeks. It was so cute, made me giggle.

“You’re not taking me seriously,” Rosa pouted and Garrick softly patted her back. 

“How much did you girls have to drink?” Garrick looked at me, and I signalled with my fingers. 

“Just a little,” I giggled and he sighed. 

“Right… I’m gonna take her home,” he said but he looked back at me with concern. “Do you need a ride?” 

“I’ll be fine, thank you, Garrick.” 

“Seraphina.” he nodded, and made his very, very tipsy wife walk in front of him. 

I tilted my head, eyeing the cute couple as they walked off. I finished my drink, and left a generous tip on the counter. I jumped from my stool. 

I stretched, and wobbled a bit. I was not drunk, per say, tipsy, yeah very much. I grabbed my bag and my keys… The camaro was parked in front of the bar. Mr. Simons did wonders with it, really. 

I waved bye to the owner, boots creaking on the sticky wooden floor. Honestly, it was so late most of the sober customers were gone. The place was loud, crowded, music blaring, people laughing, humid with the late summer evening. 

I was twisting the keys in my hand when they suddenly disappeared. I stopped in my tracks and blinked. 

“You’re not drunk driving,” the deep voice rumbled behind me. My heart stuttered as I turned. 

His henley clung to his shoulders, sleeves shoved up, forearms crossed with my keys dangling casually from one hand.

 My brows shut up to my forehead. “I’m not drunk,” heat rushing to my cheeks

“Mm,” he said, utterly unconvinced, staring down at me. “I’ve heard that line before.”

Arse…

“I don’t see you taking anyone else’s keys,” my jaw clenched.

“Because they’re not planning to drive.” His voice was maddeningly calm. I stood toe-to-toe with the tall man. Many were swirling around us, but the bar seemed to shrink only to the space between us. 

“I’m gonna hold onto these,” his mouth twitched, dangling the keys against his palm. My eyes narrowed.

“No, you’re not,” I stepped closer, reaching for the keys. He lifted his hand higher without even glancing up, his stormy eyes locked on mine. 

“Really?” I hissed, glaring up at him. But he just stared back at me calmly as ever, tired blue eyes boring into mine. My nostrils flared. “You’re not even on duty!” I argued, crossing my arms. 

“You’re telling me I should let crime happen?” he raised his brows. “Off-duty doesn’t mean blind.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “What crime? Last I checked, wanting to go home isn’t a felony.”

“There’s intent,” he said simply, like it was law.

I let out a sharp laugh. “This is abuse of power, Sheriff Price. Borderline harassment.”

“Big words, Ms. Barlow.” he raised his brow and I was so ready to go off on him, but words stuck in my throat. Officer Riley was dragging a very, very drunk Johnny. When did he get so wasted? 

Officer Riley nodded towards us as they passed by and Johnny just grinned like an idiot, waving and saying something along the lines of ‘hiii, Phiny’. I turned after them, watching them exit the bar. I blinked rapidly, completely forgetting about the aggravating man in front of me. 

A beat passed, and I turned back. Price was still there. Still watching me. Still holding my damn keys. He was calm, stood there with his big crossed arms as if he had all the time in the world. 

“I want my keys back, Sheriff.” I stated simply, though I felt small under his gaze.

“You can get them tomorrow at the station,” he nodded simply. 

“I wasn’t gonna drive, Jesus," I rolled my eyes and that made his jaw tick. “I’m not an idiot.” 

“I know that, Ms. Barlow,” voice was low, steady, yet his jaw was clenched tight. And there it was. His tired, stormy blue eyes staring down at me. A stare that made my stomach flip. I bit the inside of my cheeks, and pursed my lips.

Air rushed through my nose, in a soft, but annoyed huff. “Fine, keep them. Good night, almighty sir.” I spun on my heel, walking straight into a chair. 

Bit my lip, and shook myself. Of course, I’d embarrass myself, but it didn't matter, I just kept walking. I heard an exasperated sigh behind me, and a moment after I heard the door slam shut behind me, the motion repeated. 

The gravel crunched under my boots in the parking lot. I glanced back when I heard his steps behind me.

“It’s not like I have keys to drive myself, Sheriff,” I called out to him, as he was still walking up to me.  

“Just keep walking, Barlow,” he said, tone gruff. He stopped at a respectable distance and I stared at him. 

“What, no ‘miss’?” I shot back, turning with a tipsy little sway. Oof, that alcohol was most definitely exposing a less than elegant side… 

His eyes narrowed, scanning me head to toe with disdain behind those blue irises. “Maybe if you acted more like a lady. Less like a drunk cowboy.” 

The heat that flared up my neck wasn’t from the alcohol. “You’ve got some nerve, Price.”

I said his name in retaliation, like a dare. Oh, it felt weird to call him that. But his gaze… It darkened in a way that sent a little jolt through me.

“Keep walking, miss,” he took a few steps towards me. His voice was serious, leaning a bit lower, towering above me. I kept eye contact but I felt something in me shake a little, telling me to not play around with him anymore… His eyes were again, dangerous… Maybe even threatening. 

“Are you seriously don’t have better things to do than to keep me in check?” I breathed, and he let air out through his nose.

He closed his eyes and straightened, and he massaged his temple, before his blue eyes – calm, as if anger never passed behind them – rested on my face again. 

I didn’t move. Not at first. My pulse betrayed me, kicking faster, until finally I tore my eyes from his.

“You’re a woman, Ms. Barlow,” he said, voice low, almost soft. “And despite what you think of me, I’m not letting a young, half-drunk woman stumble home alone. Not here. Not anywhere.”

I closed my mouth. Hostile feelings leaving my body, his calmness somehow forcing my blood to calm too. I let my shoulders fall, realizing how tense I was just seconds ago. 

I kept eyeing him and he sighed. 

“So just, can you walk?” he waved towards the pavement. 

I rolled my eyes, with a barely there huff. “How can I not, when you ask so nicely?”

That finally drew a low chuckle from him, head shaking like I was impossible.

But I moved. Placing one foot in front of the other. 

We fell into step without me even noticing at first, until I realized he’d slowed down to match my pace.

He was such a contradiction. Always in my way, always in my business, aggravating as hell – yet there was this strange softness to him I couldn’t quite pin down. I could feel his eyes flick to me every so often, like he was making sure I didn’t trip over a crack in the pavement or walk headfirst into a post. 

He was walking closer to the road too. Not that many cars passed us, but like, his old-timey gentlemenness – when he was not an ass for a second – was quite refreshing. 

“You offer your services to all half-drunk women in town, or is it just me?” I broke the silence, as we passed yet another lamppost.

He chuckled, low in his chest. “You seemed more stubborn – and less reasonable – than most.”

I rolled my eyes, walking, dancing above the creaks in the pavement. 

“Most women don’t want to walk home alone,” he added. “Not even in this town.”

“Briar Hollow seems safe enough.” I said with lightness, not really seeing his point.

“It is,” he said, gaze forward, “but it’s still the same world…”

I tilted my head at him. “You don’t trust your town folks?”

His calm blue eyes flicked to me then glanced back forward. Gaze steady but shadowed. “Every town has its darker corners.” A pause, as if remembering something dark. “I don’t have the luxury of forgetting how cruel people can be.”

My lashes fluttered, and I looked up at him. For the first time all night, he wasn’t needling me – he looked… almost surprised at his own honesty. A crease flickered between his brows before he shook his head, as though dismissing the thought.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, his eyes returning to his normal steadiness. “Didn’t mean to scare you off this town.”

“You didn’t,” I said gently, smiling up at him – not a grin, not a tease. Just… soft. And for a split second, something passed behind his eyes, something I couldn’t quite catch before it was gone. 

The moment passed, and he cleared his throat, continuing our walk. Most of it was spent in silence – not awkward, but… comfortable. Silence always made me jittery; I usually tried to fill it, coax the other person into talking. People always gave in. But with him, I didn’t dare bring up silly topics

He was oddly watchful of me, though. Sometimes I caught him slightly extending his arms behind me. Not touching me, but his hand was there as we passed smaller or bigger groups of people I could not identify exactly in the dark. 

As the streets grew familiar, I slowed my pace. He knew I could get home safe from the corner, yet he still walked me all the way to my gate.

“Thank you for walking me home,” I said as we stopped at my gate. 

“My pleasure,” he replied, voice low, worn. I looked at him then – really looked. He carried strength in every line of his body, but God, he looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years.

“Get some rest, Sheriff,” I murmured.

His brow lifted. “Are you trying to patronize me, Ms. Barlow?”

“A girl can dream.” 

He smirked, shaking his head. Then he dug into his pocket.

“Here,” he said, holding the keys out. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“You think?” I arched a brow and reached for the little twinkling items, but he pulled them back.

I gasped. “Really?” jade green eyes snapping to his.

“Did you learn a lesson?” he raised his brow. For a second I debated giving him a typical, good girl answer. I chewed my lips, breeze pushing my long locks off my shoulder.

“Yeah.” I snatched them from his hand. “If I want to drink and drive, don’t do it in front of you.”

“Very humorous,” he scoffed, clearly too tired to spar. He straightened up and rubbed his cheeks, but an amused smirk was playing on his lips.

“I know I am.” I grinned and slipped through the creaky gate. Then I paused, hand still lingering on the metal. I looked back at him, my voice coming out softer than I intended. “Good night, Sheriff Price.”

“Good night, Ms. Barlow.” His voice was low, gently nodding.

I smiled once more before walking up to the porch. I fiddled with the keys, then I slipped inside the dark house. The smell of lavender immediately welcomed me, but all I could think about was him.

I pressed my back against the door, hands planted on the old, wooden surface. My lip caught between my teeth as I tried to hold back a little smile.

Jesus. What a night.

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading! Once again thank you for all the love, comments, etc. I utterly enjoy seeing your thoughts, hehe. Until next time! Bear hugs and kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 12]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: bruises, scars, swearing, slight erotica or spice, idk sensual description (?), mentions of the devil, cocaine, burn out, self-destructive behaviour (college kid level), mention of previous hospitalization, vivid dreams, age gap, slow burn thank you so much for your kind words, as always. and with such a sign off last time, i had to do it. i’m sorry hehe… enjoy :)) 

The Devil 

To say that the Sheriff has changed, said sorry for all his shitty actions, asked me out, got on one knee and now we’re married, it would most definitely be a wild thing to say. 

And it’s definitely not what happened. 

After that day on my porch it was as if fate had changed its mind, and decided that our relationship has run its course. 

I was on home arrest. I did not leave my house, hardly even ate, I was mostly running on coffee and cookies I baked once when I still had time. 

With the Wicca store I completed the last personalized delivery, and Lindy agreed to temporarily stop taking order placements for personalized items – of course, all the other things I’ve delivered were selling, but I did not have to pour energy into love spells to charm someone named Jason. 

The grimoire was done, all I did about it was correct little mistakes, made changes fulfilling the publisher’s asks and wants. They were laborious days when I was drawing and redrawing stuff. 

I was constantly covered in paint, drying everything with my hair dryer to be able to scan the pages at 4 AM and send it off to whoever was saying OK to my designs. 

About the book… Well, I sat there and stared at the still empty pages. Last time I talked to Samantha, it was a hit, but these ‘serve consumerism’ spells were not working for me. It felt unauthentic and that frustrated me. Multiple ripped and crumpled papers laid around my work room, brushes fell to the ground, wet paint smeared across my face and the sleeves of my white button down – in which I was living for the past few days. 

I ripped up another page with hasty words of  “Soft-Launch Soulmate Spell” on it, and laid my head against my work desk. I groaned, resting my eyes for a second. 

This was definitely not working. I wasn’t the kind of person who lived for stupid TikTok trends, and I most definitely did not want to write easily sellable spells… I wanted to create something lasting, something I could be proud of. 

Soft tapping made me open my eyes. I glanced down to the floor where Omen was blinking up at me beside my slightly bruised legs. 

“What it is, lovie? Did I forget to feed you?” I asked, barely being able to keep my eyes open. He just stared at me. “If you’re not going to tell me what’s up, I cannot exactly help you, dove,” I mumbled and the cat squinted his eyes, and I slowly straightened up.

I rubbed my eyes in frustration “I’m fucking talking to the cat…”

My body turned back to my table, but before I could pick up a pen, I felt teeth sunk into my shin. 

“Ouch! Omen!” I jumped, looking down at the black cat, his tail sweeping aggressively around the floor. “What do you want, seriously? I have to work…” and he was leaning in again and I pulled my legs up my chair. “No, no! Stop it.” I pointed at the cat, bearing his little canines. 

“Ah, fine! I’ll go check!” I groaned and slipped from the chair, and he was already dashing in front of me. “But just so you know, I’m pretty sure I’d feed you, you know?” I called after him, but he had already disappeared at the bottom of the staircase. 

My muscles groaned and I walked funny. I’ve been sitting at that desk for hours, and because of the soft light slipping through the curtains, if I had to guess, it was probably 5 AM already… 

My bare feet padded through the dark hardwood floor, rug only half covering my pentagram, tarot cards resting on the shelf in an organized manner. On my way to the kitchen I collected at least three empty mugs, and two little bowls that still had cookie crumbles in it. 

I placed it all into the sink, and I leaned against the counter, rubbing my face. Omen perched on a bar stool and he blinked at me expectantly. 

I leaned down and opened my fridge. It was mostly empty. I was out of milk, veggies went bad, fruits were eaten a long time ago, and the only thing I had a lot of was canned food for Omen. He too was confined to a shitty diet, because I was a workaholic. 

It’s been a week and a half since I went grocery shopping. 

I sighed. “Well, lovie, your choice,” I pulled two small cans from the back of the fridge. “Chicken or beef?” 

Omen quite literally glared at me, then hissed. 

“Oh, come on…” I leaned against my counter. He looked at me, his gaze screaming ‘don’t even try to feed me that processed shii–’. I bit my lips, tossing the small tin containers to my counter, and rubbed my face again. 

“Okay, listen, here’s the deal…” I sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “I’ll get a few hours of sleep, hop in the shower, get dressed, then we drive to town for a bit… I’ll get you salmon, and I’ll try eating something that is not made of sugar and cocaine. Does that sound like a deal to you?” 

Omen’s tail curled in a friendly manner and blinked softly. 

I huffed, “guess that’s a yes.”

I dragged myself to bed, pulling all my heavy, dark colored curtains closed, and changed out of my men's shirt. Needless to say, I did not required a bed time story – I was out cold before my head hit the pillow. 

I felt rough, sandpaper-like tongue licking my face. I groaned and tried to hide my face, but Omen was relentless. I checked my phone… I managed to sleep a few hours before being summoned to tend to my cat. 

I also showered, washed dried paint out of my long locks, then got dressed – nothing special, just some black long sleeve top, booty shorts and my cowboy boots. Call me basic, but that was all I could muster after barely 5 hours of sleep. 

I pushed around Omen like a child in the trolley – not that it was allowed but I swear to God, some kids were louder and spread more diseases than a well-taken care of animal would. 

Oh, I was a bit prickly when sleep deprived. 

I walked out with a big brown bag, hardly keeping my eyes open. I desperately needed some coffee from the diner – that would’ve resurrected the dead, hands down. 

As I walked hastily, it was inevitable to bump straight into someone. My bag spilled and I stumbled backwards a bit. 

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry,” I pushed my glasses on top of my head immediately, then my eyes widened. 

“I’m seriously getting concerned about your spatial awareness, Ms. Barlow,” the sheriff’s big body materialized in front of me. 

Well, of course I had to stumble back. Man’s built like a wall… A soft, warm wall – shut up! 

“I really am sorry, Sheriff, I didn’t see you there,” I was on my knees, the hot pavement burning my bare skin. My hands reached for the spilled goods and I started to throw them back into the brown bag. 

To my surprise he lowered himself as well, collecting the apples that rolled away. 

“This is all you've got?” he asked with raised brows as he picked up the bananas too. “Fruits?” 

“Are you gonna inspect my eating habits now, sir?” I looked up at him from my lowered position, he was leaning down to hand me what he’d collected. I mumbled a small thanks, as I swear, it almost felt like his fingers brushed against mine.

“Should I?” he raised his brow, and my mouth twitched. “You look like you have some serious sleeping problems too.” 

“Now, that’s what a woman would like to hear, Sheriff,” I shook my head with a smile, and pushed myself up. 

“It’s not about looks, Ms. Barlow, sleep deprivation has almost the same consequences as drunk driving,” he said in a flat tone, and I squinted. 

“Are you seriously gonna talk about statistics to me?” 

“Looking at the state you’re in, I believe someone should,” he said as his mouth twitched. I guess I started to annoy him once again. Not much changed, huh. “Go home and rest.” he said a bit softer but his deep gravel of a voice was firm. 

“You’re not my daddy, Sheriff,” I rolled my eyes as I threw the bag upward a little. “If I wanted a scolding I would have called him.” I blinked sleepily and he fell oddly quiet. I froze. 

The realization dawned on me. 

I slowly snuck a glance at his face, his jaw was tight, eyes narrowed. 

“Careful with the smart mouthing, Ms. Barlow,” he warned, eyes calm, voice dropping half an octave and my tummy fluttered.

Was I attracted to this?

Who was I kidding, of course I was… 

I bit my lip and let a small smile spread on my lips. “Of course, Sheriff Price,” I nodded obediently, enjoying how my sleep-deprived self got a rise out of him. “I’ll be more careful with my mouth.” I smiled at him, and trotted down the street. 

Ah, seeing his lashes flutter, fist tightening. Annoying him was becoming too easy at this point. 

As I stepped into the diner I was hit with the familiar scent of eggs, bacon and coffee with a mixture of something sweet, either pancakes or pies. The little bells chimed above me, and Molly flashed me a big smile as I stepped over  the threshold. 

But even before I could get a word out, loud noise cut through the air. 

“Oh my God! She’s alive!” Johnny’s deafening roar filled the air, and I snapped my head towards him. His big, muscular body was speeding towards me, and I was already bracing for collision. 

He swept me up in a hasty motion, feet dangling as he wrapped me in his big arms, cologne oozing from his skin. 

“Johnny, noo,” I whined, my arms pressed between his chest and mine as he held me tight, rocking me side-to-side. 

“What?! I missed you, Phiny! I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” his big blue eyes dropped to my jade ones, and he softly let me back on the ground. 

“That’s because you skipped church again, MacTavish,” an older lady called from another booth. 

“I was working, Mrs. Winston,” he pouted and the lady waved him off, turning back to her newspaper. I giggled and looked up at him. He scrunched his nose, “You look like hell.” 

I gasped and slapped his arm. “You’re such an ass,” I rolled my eyes, then glanced back at him. “You don’t look much better, I assure you. The Sheriff has you on night shifts or what?” 

“Yeah, well, the forest murders, ya’ know,” he rubbed his face and Officer Garrick appeared next to him. My lips pulled into a slow curve. 

“Hey, Garrick,” 

“Seraphina,” he nodded with a calm smile, “Good to see you again. ‘Been busy?” 

“A lot of work to do,” I smiled at them, and his mouth twitched into a little smirk. 

“Devil worship takes a lot of time, I see,” he said and I chuckled. 

“You two did not change much,” I rolled my eyes and turned to Molly to get my order. 

I joined the men in the booth, Officer Riley was nursing a warm cup of coffee beside the window. I smiled at him, as I slid inside the booth across him. 

“Officer Riley, it’s been a while” 

“Ms. Seraphina,” he nodded, his voice flat. 

“Did you enjoy the Lawrence book?” I asked as I sipped my coffee, and he nodded without missing a beat. 

“It was a bit dry, but enjoyable.” he said in a low voice, and Johnny stared at me then the man sitting beside him. 

“What book?” 

“None of your business,” Officer Riley shut him down, and I giggled. 

It was actually nice to get some human interactions. Casual chatter, mundane things instead of spells and potions. I turned to Garrick beside me as the previous conversation died down about Johnny wanting to get more sheep tattoos on the inside of his biceps. 

“How’s Rosa, by the way?” a soft giggle still lingering on my lips. “She was rushing away after mass last week, could not catch her,” I blinked at the calm man, already shaking his head. 

“She’s been this deep in work,” he signaled with his hand, just below his chin. “I usually have to drag her out of her office, if I want her home for the night.” 

“Oh, she’s taking the summer end fair very seriously.” I blinked surprised. 

“Yeah, that too. And since the major is not very good at managing stuff, she’s been working extra shifts trying to make sense of some deals…” Garrick scratched his jaw. 

“Poor Rosa…” I sighed, already searching for an empty slot in my schedule to bake some cookies for her and drop by her office. 

“She thrives in high stress environments,” Garrick sighed, waving off my concerns. “Sometimes I think she’s looking for trouble just for the fun of it.” 

“Sounds like her…” I giggled and as I glanced towards the opening door, I almost spat my coffee at Officer Riley. He sent me a deadpan look but my eyes were fixed on something else. 

Blonde woman, 5 inches heels, pink dress most definitely not fitting into the small town aesthetic and a big brimmed white hat on her soft locks. My eyes widened, not really being sure if I was seeing it right. 

“Ah, Seraphina!” her cheerful voice cut through the air and all three men, but even the locals turned to her. Her heels were already clicking towards us. 

“Who the hell is that?” Johnny looked at me with wide eyes, and I wiped my lips with a napkin, standing up. 

“My agent,” I coughed with a strained voice and they all looked at me confused. 

Garrick let me slip from the booth, just as Samantha got to us. 

“Sam, what are you… How did you get here?” I asked as she hugged me tightly, her expensive perfume hitting me immediately. 

“Booked a flight, darling, business trip.” She smiled then her cheerful eyes slipped to the men in the booth. “Oh my, what fine officers!  Which one of them is your boyfriend?” 

“Samantha!” I groaned, turning red immediately. 

“I’m Samantha L. Wood, nice to meet you,” she reached her hand to Garrick, who introduced himself politely, then Johnny, and Officer Riley just nodded towards her, assessing her with his deep brown eyes. 

“Sam, seriously, what are you–” 

“I had a feeling, “ she turned towards me so quickly, Garrick jumped a little. “That you’re doing what you always do before the deadlines. So, I bribed the board, and I’ll be in town for a week. Found a lovely Airbnb, and we can set up meetings in that pleasant café I saw down the street. We’ll establish a better work schedule, so you won’t send yourself to the hospital again.” 

“Sam,” I hissed, turning red as she was exposing parts of my life I did not exactly share with others. 

“And the–” Samantha almost started again, but Johnny cut into her words.

“Sorry, but who are you exactly? To Phiny?”  She turned to him with raised brows.

“Ah, her agent, editor, fairy god mother, advisor and at this point health-care provider after what happened with last year publishing,” she sighed and the men seemed more confused, and Samantha clocked it. She pointed at me with her thumb. 

“She’s an author,” Sam blinked as if not understanding how they did not know. 

“Come on, Sam, let me help you get settled,” I started to push her gently towards the door. 

“Oh, hm, how sweet,” she chuckled and waved back to the flabbergasted men. “Goodbye officers!” 

We got to the door at the same time as Rosa came in. 

“Hi!” she blinked at me confused. 

“Hey,” I smiled and pushed Sam to the street and made her walk to her car, already scolding her for spilling my life details at the diner. 

Samantha proved to be a great help, though. 

After my initial dread, her watchful gaze and razor-sharp professionalism had the editing on my book moving along at a startling pace. She’d brought a long list of things we needed to discuss – the kind of conversations that were infinitely easier in person than over FaceTime.

She wasn’t nearly as ditzy as she’d seemed at the diner. Sure, she was cheerful and blunt, but when it came to work she was a shark: sharp eyes, clear head, impeccable business instincts. She also refused to let me burn myself out, capping my workdays at eight p.m.

“It’s coming along, Seraphina. You’re already weeks ahead of schedule,” she said one afternoon at Ms. Dotti’s café. We were planted at a long, conference-style table in the back, surrounded by half-eaten pastries, multiple cups of actually good coffee, and neat stacks of my final chapters laying to the side. 

We were well past the kill-your-darlings phase; plenty of spells and rituals had been cut for not feeling authentic. Samantha knew my style – and my head – better than anyone when it came to my creative pursuits. Her words always grounded me.

“Are you sure?” I asked, chewing on my lips.

“I’m sure, darling.” She slipped off her glasses, her blonde hair bouncing with the movement. “By the end of the week, we’ll have the final product. After that, the rest is on the publisher’s side.”

“That’s good to hear.” I rubbed my cheek, daring to take a deep breath.

I was about to turn back to my laptop when Samantha gave a low, appreciative whistle.

 “Now that,” she murmured, “is a fine man…”

I followed her gaze. Of course, it had to be him.

Price wasn’t in uniform – just jeans, boots, a black T-shirt, and an open checkered button-down with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. His badge still sat at his hip, his hat in place, and he moved with the kind of purpose that made my mouth go dry.

“Who is that?” Sam glanced at me, her lips twitching into a mischievous smile. I turned my head away, tired eyes strained on the laptop screen. 

“That’s the Sheriff,” 

“You never mentioned the entire police department was hot.” She looked back outside. “No wonder you were inspired.” 

I did not reply, just mumbled something about the next chapter. 

“Hm, hm, he looks delicious,” Sam pushed, and I could feel her eyes on me. “A bit too serious for my taste, but nevertheless hot.” 

“This chapter won’t edit itself…” 

“You’re so easy to read, darling,” she propped her chin on her palm, studying me. “He’s the man behind those snarky little hexes, isn’t he?” 

“I have ex-flings in the city, I have no relations whatsoever to the sheriff,” I answered flat in the tone with a deadpan expression, not even glancing at her. 

“Sure, sure,” she smirked. “Call me when he proposes. I’m itching to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“Samantha,” a low groan slipped my lips.

She only laughed and put her glasses back on, ready to tackle whatever chaos I’d written next…

– – – – – – – – – – – 

I tossed and turned in bed. 

The wind rattled the windows, trees bowing and creaking to the howling cold air. The sheets tangled around my legs, little flashes of light blooming and fading against the dark.

A warm weight settled at my hip – slow, deliberate heat. A thumb tracing lazy circles into my skin. A big, calloused palm slid along my bare arm, sending a shiver that prickled up my neck.

Warm air spilled against my neck, grazing the sensitive skin below my ear. Faint rasp of stubble brushed against the curve of my shoulder. That scent… Thick, intoxicating – soft leather, faint smoke, tobacco slowly curling around me. 

My eyes fluttered open, heavy and blurred. A shoulder. The vague curve of a jaw. His chest rose against mine, solid, unyielding. My hand lifted, fingers brushed against the jaw ever so slightly, palm sliding against his cheek.

He turned into my touch, lips grazing my skin as he exhaled into my hand – a faint kiss, heat blooming there, warm weight pressing slowly into it. 

Blue eyes swam into focus – impossibly close, impossibly real. His grip on my hip tightened, palm pushing on the bone, fingers curling into the silk of my dress, pressing me deeper into the mattress. My thoughts wavered, the sound of my pulse drumming in my ears.

Sound reached me in pieces: the scrape of fabric, the faint creak of the bedframe, the muffled beat of his voice somewhere near my ear.

Softer. Clearer.

Low, distant rumble, his scent blinding my senses, lips slowly dragging up under my ears. 

Seraphina…

The name split through the fog. My stomach dropped.

I shot upright, gasping, heat in my throat. Thunder cracked overhead, rattling the house. My palm was empty. The sheets were cold.

I swallowed hard, long locks spilling around me; the silky strap of my nightgown falling off my shoulder. One arm fell between my knees, the other rested on top of one. I pushed the heel of my palm just below my eye, rubbing.

What the fu… 

What the actual fuck… 

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, the floorboards felt cold against my bare feet. My throat felt parched, heartbeat still unnaturally fast. I pushed myself from the bed, slowly padding down the stairs, towards the kitchen. 

The house was quiet in that way it only got after midnight – the wind was shaking everything violently, thunder and lightning playing tag, but no rain would fall. 

I opened the tap, water ran fast, splashing against my glass. My hand was still trembling slightly from the dream. I met him too many times… The sex magick spells mixed up in my head… No reason, really, just my mind processing my days – I tried to reason with myself. 

The glass clinked against the countertop, and turned my head to the window. Trees were bowing in the violent summer storm, leaves mixing in the darkness, nature doing its thing – when something caught my eye.

Not movement exactly. More… a presence.

The tree line, far in the back of my garden, was only a black smear against the darker night, but for a split second, I swore I saw something between the trunks. Not light. Not the moon. Something else.

I blinked, leaning closer. Even as lightning illuminated my vast garden, nothing. Just shadows.

But… the hair along my arms wouldn’t lie flat.

The water glass sat forgotten on the counter as I quietly moved to my living room. Checked the patio door and tugged the curtains shut. The house felt smaller all of a sudden. Quieter.

I wrapped my arms around me, told myself it was just the dream. Just my mind still running hot from it. It's nothing...

But I could not convince myself.

Hey there, :)  Thank you so much for reading!  Things are getting interesting, hehe  Many kisses, lovies,  S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 11]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: i cuss a lot, mentions of previous violence, bruises, scars around wrist, wicca, occult stuff, age gap (hehe duh), abuse of power (kinda), i'm still shitty at giving warnings sorry, oh SLOW BURN i cannot believe this, chapter 11... i hope this part will give you a little peace that our beloved captain price is not an arse, not even in this story. hope you enjoy :))

Ms. Barlow

The woods were whispering. 

Soft words played hide-and-seek between the cold tree trunks, disorienting anyone who dared enter this realm of mystery.

I drove deeper into the heavily wooded area. The sun could barely peek through the tall canopy, its heat trapped outside. My radio caught only static as I wound my way up the serpentine road. It was most definitely calming, a bit isolating, but pleasant. 

A narrow side road appeared, and I turned. The trees leaned in close, hugging the little path until I emerged at a house. It had taken an hour to get here, but the sight made it worth it – a large home just beyond a small town much like Briar Hollow.

A woman stood at the top of the stairs leading to the house, and Lindy – dressed similar to a forest fairy – descended toward me with a bright smile

“Seraphina! High blessings!” she greeted, her voice warm as I stepped out of my car. Omen blinked up at her from my arms – finally, a person he liked.

“Hi, Lindy.”

She helped me carry the glass bottles I’d brought – iced tea when I set out – and a big box of cookies and baked goods. Together, we walked up to the porch, where she introduced me to the other women

The air was calm and sweet, heavy with the scent of flowers blooming all around the house and with something I couldn’t quite place. The garden stretched wide, dotted with pillows on the green grass and candles flickering in the twilight. One table held a makeshift altar, another offered food and drink.

I sat outside their circle, Omen curled in my lap, watching as they completed a ritual. The breeze danced through the night, and the chanting – graceful and in sync – made the sunset feel like magic. You did not have to be a witch to feel the shift in the air.

I felt calm wash over my body, and after their ritual I even had a pleasant conversation with some of them. Lindy was very welcoming, introducing me to women from all sorts of paths. I only sat to the side for a brief second to gather my thoughts. 

That’s when I heard it.

A female voice, soft but it struck me like lightning.

“You’re a clairaudient.”

I turned my head slightly. A small, older woman stepped into view – long silver hair, eyes so pale they seemed silver too. My throat tightened.

“I’m sorry?” 

She studied me without blinking. “Helena was a clairvoyant. Lindy tells me you’ve been hearing voices.” Her tone was calm, almost casual, though her gaze felt like it could pin me to the earth. “I suppose the gift runs in your family.” 

“I… I really don’t know. I never had the chance to know my nana.” It was hard to string together a normal sentence beside her.

“Ah, poor thing.” Her white lashes lowered, then lifted again, sharp as moonlight. Never in my entire life have I met a woman like that – I had a few run-ins with eccentric people, but somehow this tiny woman was the one sending shivers down my spine. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She settled into the seat across from me, tilting her head, waiting.

“Oh– sorry, I’m Sera–” I reached my hand towards her. 

“Seraphina Barlow,” she said with a small smile. “You look just like Helena. Frankly, she was taller than you, but almost,” she eyed me with a mysterious smile. “A woman with an enormous appetite when it came to men, but you don’t seem like that… Your nature differs.” 

Heat crept up my neck under her gaze. She reached for my hand. “May I?”

“Of course…” I mumbled letting her take my tanned hands between hers. Her pale, soft fingers enclosed mine – a faint smirk slipped her lips as she glanced at my rings, then she turned my hand palm-up. She traced a finger along my lines.

“Hm…” she hummed, touching my wrist, looking at the still ugly marks left by the cuffs. “Your familiar failed to protect you…” she murmured, her eyes flicking to Omen, who sat unusually still, even humble beside her. “Then again, they can’t guard you from what’s fated.”

“Oh– he’s not a familiar,” I blinked, and her silver eyes glinted. She said nothing, just let my hand back down. 

“I wonder if it’s as bad as Helena’s,” she mused. “She used to see things – visions so vivid she nearly crashed her car more than once. I imagine your hearing is just as sharp as her sight.”

“I, uh– I don’t believe in psychic things, I mean, not really– ma’am…” 

“Ma’am?” She chuckled, her kind eyes resting on me. “Call me Mara, dear. I don’t believe in surface politeness.” Her gaze softened. “You have a kind soul, a giver’s nature, a healer’s touch… rather creative, I hear.” She glanced toward Lindy, then back at me. “But you fail to protect yourself, don’t you?”

“I don’t need to… At least, not the way I used to.” I found the words spilling from my lips, and my lashes fluttered as her silver gaze penetrated my soul. I was a little taken aback. 

“Hm…” She scratched Omen’s head. I shifted in my seat; the candles’ orange light grew stronger as the sun dipped farther below the mountains. Candlelight painted her pale face in gold and shadow.

“What do you mean Helena used to see things?” I asked quietly, as Omen purred beside the woman. Her silver bracelets chimed and she looked at me calmly. 

“Vivid dreams, seeing colors, auras… Seeing things that were not really perceived by regular people,” she said with a calm, even tone as if she was reading a shopping list. “She was a talented witch, her Tarot readings never failed to amaze me…” her eyes squinted as she smiled. “She also refused to believe that she was more tuned in with the ‘other side’ as you young things say nowadays… But she grew to accept it, with time.” 

I bit my lip, staring ahead.

“You can ask questions, dear… You don’t have to control yourself here,” she said as if she could read my mind, and my eyes snapped to her. “You think you’re going crazy, don't you,” she asked gently.

“You have no idea.” I huffed, letting my shoulder relax. 

“Hm, the whispers are louder in Briar Hollow, aren’t they.” 

“They are… I always thought, I mean, back in the city… I just thought I had good intuition and intrusive thoughts. But it’s hard to deny the whispers when they are as clear as real life conversation,” I spun my rings on my fingers. She smiled faintly as I confessed. 

“You’ve found good people in that town, haven’t you?” 

“I have. I really did,” a smile slipped my lips thinking about the people I met, and spent my days. “Many were very kind and welcoming, accepting my quirks and everything…” 

“Yes, Helena always said good people resided in that small town…” she smiled at me, and slowly we started to talk. 

Mara was a wise woman, rather sharp and easy to talk to despite her age. She did not press much about my personal life, but she was curious about my beliefs. She laughed when I told her I went to church, telling me how Helena only went when a new, young priest was assigned. 

“...it happened back in California, she was a wild thing back then,” Mara chuckled and I giggled. 

“You knew her back then?” I placed my chin in my palm, she nodded as she sipped sweet wine from a gauntlet. 

“I did, we were inseparable…” she remembered her sharp eyes softening with haze. “She was sweet, had a big heart – big heart she liked to share with undeserving men,” Mara rolled her eyes as I giggled. “She had a lot to give, fun, wild energy. She was truly the Sun, complementing my more moonish energy,” her silver eyes slid to me. “You seem to be having the perfect balance between the two, though… Big energies with a delicate balance, you must have some Libra placements.” 

“My ascendant,” I smiled into the pink lemonade which the lady who hosted brought over to me, what felt like hours ago. 

“Of course,” she chuckled, then she slipped into a more somber state. “If you don’t mind me asking, dear, those bruises that bloom on your skin. When did you get them?” 

“Last full moon,” I bit my lips, my eyes slipping to the kindly wrinkled face. “I wandered into the woods while I was sleeping… Had a run in with the town’s sheriff, too. He thought… I mean,” I shook my head swallowing the complaining words. “I guess, I deserved whatever I got from him… Sometimes men scare me, how brutishly strong they are…” 

“A man did this to you?” she asked quietly, and I shook my head. 

“It was mostly me, stumbling in the dark,” I rubbed my wrist. I’ve been wearing more modest clothes ever since that night… Dark purple marks were slowly turning into softer yellows and greens, but they were everywhere… And I did not enjoy the questions, so I kept myself covered, even in the summer heat. “But he, too… left some marks.” 

“It seems to me you care a lot for this sheriff of yours,” my eyes snapped to her. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “With the amount of excuses you’re bringing up to absolve him.”

“He is not mine… He’s just a man in town who does not seem to stomach me,” I shrugged. 

“Not liking someone does not justify him laying a hand on you, dear,” she said calmly, and I knew she she right. I was back again twisting my rings on my bony fingers. "You like him a lot…” 

“I don’t,” my eyes snapped to her, and she smirked. “I mean… I, uh, I see how kind he is, you know. Not to me, to others… At first I did not want to believe it either. I mean, that he is kind et al… But he talks with respect, with this soft kindness that cannot be faked. And his eyes,” I looked in front of me, trying to recall his look, “they soften when he smiles, even when he looks at me - on rare occasions.” 

Mara chuckled and I looked at her. She rested calmly like the Moon, contrasted by the darkness of the garden. The only light that filled the space was from the hundreds of candles around us. Soft chatter and laughter, music filled the air. I failed to notice how the time flew by. 

“It seems to me, dear, that you like him more than you admit,” she rose from her seat, and my gaze followed her. She was a tiny woman, even shorter than me. 

“I don’t think it matters if I like him or not. He can’t stand me…” 

“Oh, dear… If he didn’t, you wouldn’t keep running into him,” she said softly, but before I could ask how did she know that, she placed her soft hand on my cheek. My lashes fluttered as I stared up at her with wide eyes. Her voice was low, almost a blessing. “You shine bright, Seraphina. And with light comes shadow. You need a protector,” she smiled at me. “And I believe fate has already set its eyes on someone.” 

And just like that, she stepped back. “Until next time, dear.” 

Before I could speak, she was gone – vanishing into the crowd like a dream dissolving

Omen pressed against my arm, his green eyes fixed on me. I stroked his head, feeling the night settle. It was late. Time to go.

I said my goodbyes, thanked the host for their hospitality, thanked Lindy immensely for inviting me, and I set out on the long drive home. 

I had a lot to think about on my way back home. The sun set a long time ago, the faintest blush still peaked over the mountains, but the road was covered in the soft silence of the darkness. 

Omen was fast asleep on the passenger seat, and I did not even try with the radio. 

I was just outside of town when I noticed those familiar lights. 

Red and blue. 

I sighed, pulling the car to the side of the road, not far from where he first stopped me. I closed my eyes and waited patiently for him.

“We have to stop running into each other like this, don't you think, Sheriff?” I leaned back in my seat, looking up at him with a small smile. 

“Liscense and registration, Ms. Barlow,” he said, but his voice had more warmth this time - less cold steel.

“Seriously,” I groaned and leaned over to my glovebox, Omen not bothering to open his eyes. “You know I have no priors.” 

“Of course I know,” he said, almost amused. “I let you off with warnings constantly” 

“Are you gonna change the pattern tonight?” I asked with a small smile, and his lips twitched. He took my papers, looked at them as if he was seeing them for the first time.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, Ms. Barlow?”

Ah, he kept saying my name that way... 

“Because you like my company so much?” I smiled at him sheepishly, and his brow cocked. 

“Did you consume any alcohol tonight?” he asked suspiciously and I laughed. 

“No?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“No, sir.” I smiled. 

“Step out of the vehicle, miss,” he opened my door and I sighed. 

The cool night caressed my skin as I stepped onto the gravel, small rocks popped underneath my boots. The air smelled faintly of pine, the scent of woods mixing with the roadside dust. 

Price signalled to the road, which was illuminated by the headlights of his cruiser. He pointed at the sideline.

“Are you seriously going to make me do all these stupid exercises?” I asked as he watched me with crossed arms, motioning with his fingers to walk towards him. “I guess you are,” I mumbled and stepped onto the dark asphalt, which was pushing the collected summer heat out of itself.

“You are enjoying this way too much” I looked at him, as I crossed my arms too.

“It's my job, Ms Barlow.” 

“Are you ever gonna call me my real name, Sheriff? Nobody in town calls me Ms. Barlow anymore.” 

“It's polite... A sign of respect.” He said with a flat tone.

“Sure it is, Sheriff Price.” I lowered my voice in a mocking manner. 

“Walk.” he said and I rolled my eyes. But I obeyed as his glare intensified.

I placed each step with catlike precision along the painted line, hips swaying just a little until I stopped right in front of him. I looked up at him, “Did I pass?” tilted my head with a small, smug smile. 

“Touch the nose.” 

I laughed and shook my head, but I did as he asked, holding the eye contact. 

“You’re just playing now, sir” 

“What wild accusations, Ms. Barlow.” but he let a small smile slip his lips. I guess he was in a better mood. I laughed hearing my name once again, and I let my arms down. 

“Any more games, you’d like to play?” I asked half smug, half softly, rocking back and forth on my heels. He huffed, and now a full smirk passed his lips as he waved my papers in front of me. 

“Drive slower, Ms. Barlow, I don’t want to fish your shiny car out of the valley.” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” I rolled my eyes with a small smirk. “Thank you,” I reached for my papers but before I could pull my hands back, his eyes dropped to my wrist. 

The air froze around us. 

The low hum of his cruiser faded, the noises of the night died around us.

My wrists were healing slower… Angry red where the cuffs had cut deep, purple shadows blooming around them.

He moved before I could react. His hand closed gently around my wrist, drawing it toward him.

“Hey, Sheriff– ” My voice caught as I stumbled a step closer, toe-to-toe with him.

My breath caught in my throat. His eyes were fixed on my wrist. Most of his fingers rested on the soft linen material of my sundress, but then I felt his thumb brushing lightly over my bare flesh. A touch firm but careful, a quiet contradiction.

It sent shivers down my spine. 

A flicker of anger passed through his eyes, but for the first time, it was not directed at me… It seemed he was beating himself up. 

“Ah, my skin’s sensitive,” I offered, trying to diffuse the situation, as I saw his jaw tick. His eyes snapped to mine as I looked up at him. His lashes fluttered softly, he opened his lips to say something, but it seemed the words had stuck on his tongue. 

Heat crawled up my neck as his big hand wrapped around my wrist – not violently. A soft, but firm touch, as if he realized what he’d done… His lashes lowered briefly before he inhaled.

“Sir?” 

“Khm. I apologize,” he released me, and I wasn't sure what he was apologizing for –  the bruise or the touching? But it didn't matter at that moment of time. “Off you go, just…” he shook his head averting his gaze from me, “drive slower.” 

“Of course.” I said calmer, tuning down my playfulness as the big man seemed to be struggling internally. 

“Good night, sheriff.” I said softly and as if my voice struck him, his eyes snapped back to my face, but I was already moving back to my car. 

It was utterly strange… 

The first sign of any remorse he’d show me… 

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure who I should be more worried about – him, or me.

– – – – – – – – – – 

My old victorian-ish house stood quietly under the late sun, vines crawling down its sides, wildflowers growing in bursts along the fence. My cherry-red convertible glinted in the driveway. Omen and another random cat – a chubby orange tabby – lounged lazily on the porch railing.

And me? 

Oh, I was up the ladder, fighting with a fu–ing lampshade. 

Sweat was rolling off my spine under my clothes. It was a hot day, and I did not leave my house, so I was in a simple bralette and in my too big overalls I did all my renovating in. My hair was pushed up into a messy bun, a colorful scarf keeping it in place, but a few shorter locks escaped and stuck to my face.

My arms were aching as they have been stretched above me for the better half of the hour. The scratches were no longer visible, bruises were slowly fading, but my wrists? When my bracelets slipped, they were still rather ugly… 

I was huffing, trying to unscrew a rusty lid, but it would not budge. I failed to notice the steps on the small road, leading up to my porch. 

“Come on,” I mumbled as my music drifted through the open windows – Fleetwood Mac, I needed a bit of softness. 

I cursed quietly and shifted. I felt a drift caress the exposed skin on my hipbones under my oversized pants. My hips started to ache in the uncomfortable position, and on it too – not so small bruises left by harsh fingertips – bloomed. 

I noticed the deep breath, but I thought it was only my mind playing with me.

“Need a hand?” The voice came low and close enough to startle me. 

A small gasp slipped my lips and I twisted too fast, one foot slipped off the rung. 

Fuck. 

The screwdriver clattered to the porch. Gravity yanked me down. I shut my eyes as I was ready to collide with the creaky hardwood floor, but it never happened. 

A solid arm hooked under my legs, the other braced around my back, pulling me into a wall of warmth. My fingers twisted into his shirt, and a small yelp escaped my mouth. I looked up at him with a gasp. 

Oh, he smelled divine…

His cologne, never in my life I’d smell something so unique. And he was so warm, solid, so comforting and he held me as if I weighed nothing. His hand was warm, and big on my body, fingers only squeezing me gently.

For a second, everything was so slow, and I got to study his face. His nicely trimmed beard, the curve of his lips, his wonderfully blue eyes framed by thick lashes.

Said blue eyes found my jade ones, and suddenly I was breathless, utterly flustered. 

“Oh– I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, already wriggling free, and he let me – not forcing me to twitch around in his arms uncomfortably like last time...

I stepped back a bit too quickly, bumping into the ladder, which I grabbed for support. “You startled me–” I breathed, then I shook my head. “Sorry, are you alright?” I looked at him concerned.

“‘Course I am,” he muttered, hands still on my elbows, steady but light. His eyes for a split second seemed worried. “You hurt?”

“I’m fine. Sorry– I  mean, thank you– um…” I tried to collect my thoughts, closing my eyes for a second, trying to make sense of how the Sheriff got on my porch. 

I felt a little unsure as my eyes flickered to his face. I breathed out shyly. 

“Did someone… report me again?” I asked softly, frankly, a bit hurt too if that was the case.

“No, no, Ms. Barlow, no complaints,” he said, tone flat as he straightened up completely. I pulled my work gloves off. I glanced up at him, painfully aware how big that man was, now seeing in contrast to the columns of my porch. “That’s not why I came,” he added.

I tilted my head, blinking rapidly. Omen arrived behind me on the windowsill with a soft thud. Price’s eyes flickered to him, as I heard Omen’s little tail pat in an agitated rhythm. 

Price rubbed the back of his neck, his uniform’s sleeves straining against his muscular biceps. “I came to…  give this back,” he reached the dark blue tin box towards me, avoiding eye contact. If I didn’t know better I’d say his ears were slightly red. “This worked. Thanks.” 

My brows lifted as I stared at the little box. I took a small step towards him and gently took the container from him, careful not to touch his hand… Not wanting to overstep his boundaries. 

“I also… wanted to apologize.” I froze in my movement, and my eyes snapped to him. But his stormy blue eyes were resting on my arms, and suddenly I felt very much exposed under his gaze. “For earlier. For those…” his voice strained, as if it was hard to get the words out. As if it finally dawned on him how much force he’d used against me in those woods. 

“You were just doing your job,” I said quietly, trying to wave it off.

“Too rough,” he said quickly, his eyes back on mine. “That wasn’t right. Back there.” His jaw ticked as I blinked up at him with big eyes. “I’m… sorry.”

His words were short, as if hard to express himself. But his voice was much softer, regretful… I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. 

Unfamiliar feelings coiled in my stomach as that big man stood in front of me a bit awkward. He looked away, then back at the lamp above us.

“What were you doing anyway?” He asked, clearing his throat.

I sighed, grateful for the change of topic.

“Changing a bulb.” I said softly and he looked at me with raised brows. “But I can’t unscrew the shade, it’s all rusted. I’ve been struggling for like thirty minutes…”

“I can try,” he offered.

“You don’t have to–” I blinked at him, surprised.

“Let me take a look,” his voice was soft, but left no place for objection. I bit my lips and stepped to the side. I handed him the screwdriver, as he was already moving up the ladder. 

I wrapped my arms around me as I watched him move. I still felt a little breathless, but the tension in my shoulders slowly started to ease. 

He reached for the bulb fixture and fiddled with the old, metal casing. His big hands moved with much more confidence than whatever meek attempt I was crawling at those shades before. 

And he’s domestic too – the whisper came with the cold breeze. My head twitched and I could not help but speak again.

“Sheriff Price…” his name slipped my lips. He paused, his blue eyes glanced down at me as I gulped. I could not meet his eyes. 

“You didn’t have to come all this way just to apologize.” I mumbled and it felt like a long time before he answered.

“Didn’t have to,” he said gruffly, turning back to the lampshade, as if he too, could not deal with the unspoken tension. “Wanted to.”

Silence.

A beat passed, as my heart fluttered, his words still echoing. This weird, warm feeling spread in my chest, making me utterly uncomfortable. But I whispered:

“…Thank you.”

He paused for a second, but did not look at me.

He finally got the lampshade off with a soft click and held it out like a prize. “There we go.”

I sighed in relief and smiled at him. “Ah, thank you…”

“You’ve got stubborn lampshades and a judging cat,” he muttered as he descended. Sure enough, Omen’s eyes were still fixed on him, not blinking, just glaring at the tall man. I giggled as he placed the heavy iron cast down to the floor. 

“He’s not very trusting of men…” I scratched Omen’s head, and he made a noise as if to say ‘let me be, human, I’m working'.

“That’s not a bad instinct.”

I smiled as he dusted his hands off. 

Silence slipped between us again, air thick with unspoken things. I bit my lips as I shyly looked up at him.

“Would you… like to stay for tea?”

He paused, as if he wanted to say something, but had to say the opposite.

“No, thank you. Have to get back to work,” he said with a steady, deep voice. He was oddly soft, a bit quieter too. Completely different from our previous run-ins. 

“Of course,” I nodded with a small smile and he tipped his hat. He walked past me, heat rolling off his body as he walked down the stairs. I took a few steps forward, leaning against the porch’s post. 

“Hey, Sheriff?” I called after him. He stopped in his track and turned with raised brows. “If your head starts aching again, I have more of that tea.” 

The ghost of a smirk spread on his lips, hand grabbing the collar of his vest. 

“Not sure how you’d even know about that.” he said, being almost playful. 

“You were ruder when you had them,” I said sheepishly and his mouth twitched, as if he wasn’t very proud of that.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” he crunched his nose and I could not help but giggle. There was something adorable about a man as big and serious as him acting a bit awkward. “Ms. Barlow.” He tipped his hat again with a final nod. 

“Sheriff,” I nodded at him.

I watched him disappear past the corner, the weight of the moment still in my chest. My hand lingered against my lips – not in giddy surprise, but to hold the faint, unfamiliar warmth there. A smile slipped my lips, and it was hard to contain myself.

I looked at Omen, but he just stared at me with disgust. 

“Don’t be like that,” I murmured with a pout. 

I swear to God, he rolled his green eyes and with a soft thud he jumped from the windowsill, tails twitching in agitation. 

A deep breath filled my chest. 

Something shifted during that late summer afternoon. 

And I could finally smile honestly, with sincerity again. 

Hey there, :)  Thank you so much for reading!  This was a softer chapter, slowly rolling that slow burn… Many kisses, may Price haunt your dreams,  S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 10]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: cursing (what's new), graphic description of bruises and scars, physical violence (a bit i guess), sleepwalking, mental disturbance, slow burn, is this angst? i guess ah, i'm loving sweet jhonny in this one. he's stealing every scene he's in. anywaysss, Price is being his prickly self, but what's new... hope you'll enjoy :)

Blooming Bruises

I woke up to whispers. 

No, not of those hardly out of reach ones, those annoying little bugs who tell me that Price’s rude or his ass is fin– Hm, no. 

“You seriously locked her up?” Johnny’s strained voice carried down the hall, tight with disbelief. The room was sideways. I kept blinking, slowly registering where I was. 

“What was I supposed to do? Leave her there to freeze? Let her walk home barefoot and half-naked?” Price's deep voice circled me. His voice was calm, serious. He sounded as if he was dead set in the fact that he made the right call. 

“You’re not thinking about filing her, are you?” Officer Riley asked.

A pause. Then Price’s voice, clipped:

“No. She’s not a case. Just… keeping her contained until she comes to her senses.”

“Boss…” Garrick sighed, somewhere between amusement and warning. 

A beat. 

“She looks like she’s been through a war,” Riley muttered, his voice low but carrying.

“The result of reckless behaviour," Price answered, matter-of-fact.

My eyes stayed closed. My body was too heavy to move, but their voices slid through the haze in my head. Price’s voice was closer than the others – deep, rough, and warm in a way that didn’t match the bite of his words. 

“Sheriff, I’m serious–” Garrick tried to reason with him.

“So am I,” he cut in. “That part of the woods isn’t safe right now. She had no business being there.”

My fingers twitched against the fabric of his coat. I lost track of their words.

His scent wrapped around me, I moved my head just a little, almost subconsciously to chase the comforting smell… It was darker and rich, maybe leather and tobacco… a bit of woodsmoke, not sharp, not at all. And something else I could not quite identify… 

“And yet you carried her in instead of letting her walk.” Johnny’s tone held something like a smirk. I blinked my eyes open, then shut them close tight, recalling the embarrassing fragments of dangling off his shoulders. 

A pause. The scrape of paper shifting. Boots on the linoleum.

“She was freezing,” Price said finally, the words gruff, as if admitting it cost him something. “And bleeding. Didn’t seem like a good night to die of stubbornness.”

My jaw tightened faintly. Stubbornness. He wasn’t wrong. Still…

“Still…” Officer Riley sighed, “you could’ve just dropped her at her place.”

“Yeah, and she’d be back out there tomorrow,” Price muttered. “This way she stays put. At least ‘til morning. Maybe learns a lesson for once.”

The shuffling of boots. A low chuckle from Garrick. “Whatever you say, Sheriff.”

The voices died off, and I felt my consciousness slip, face pressing against my bare arms. 

“MacTavish…” Price’s voice called but I was unable to hear what he said to him, as darkness once again, swallowed me whole. 

I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I was slowly coming to my senses. 

My lashes fluttered, vision a bit blurred as worried, puppy eyes were leveling with me. Recognition washed through my body. 

“Hey, Phiny…” his voice was soft. No harshness, no violence, just Johnny once again taking care of me… His hand rubbed my arm reassuringly. “Morning, trouble. Survived your midnight ritual, then?” his voice was a bit raspy, but that grin would not leave his lips for the love of God. 

“I’m going to hex you, Johnny.” 

“Nah, you won’t, you love me too much, my mistress of the Moon.” he scrunched his nose playfully.

“Stop it.” I pushed myself, my whole body aching, a soft yelp slipping my lip. Oh, I felt every bones and each muscle straining under my bruised skin. 

“Are you okay?” a bit of worry mixed into his voice. 

“I could ask the same thing.” I wrapped myself in the sheriff’s coat warm from my body heat. I studied his face. “How was the night shift?” 

“Pretty mundane, until Price dragged you through the door.” he said, placing my cowboy boots and an oversized denim jacket in front of me. I blinked at him, he smiled sheepishly. “Big bad sheriff sent me to your house… Sorry for breaking in.” 

“It’s fine.” I pulled my legs from underneath me, the feeling of little ants rushing under my skin was immediate. Johnny's eyes followed and hissed. 

“Jesus, Phiny… That doesn’t look good.” he stood up, letting me get my bare legs into my boots. 

“It looks worse than it is,” I stood up and the sheriff’s coat slipped from my shoulders as I turned my back to Johnny. 

A joke stuck in his throat, then I felt him move behind me. 

“What the hell happened to you? Did you fight a bear?” He grabbed my arm gently. I looked up at him with raised brows, then I followed his gaze. My heart jumped against my ribcage. 

Long scratches, deep purple bruises along my upper arm, red circles around my wrists. My lips fell open, but then I closed it, and pulled away from the man. I grabbed my denim jacket, my perfume lingering on the material, the comfort of home settling my anxiety.

“I fell, didn’t exactly see much.” I pushed my arms into the sleeves, trying to not show how much my whole body ached. I could not decide if it was because of my stumbling in the woods, or because of Price… 

“What were you doing in the woods anyways?” he asked, arms crossed leaning against the wall. I threw my long hair over my shoulders, dusting off my nightgown, – not that it would help – that now looked like a little summer dress with proper footwear and a jacket. 

I bit my lips, then I turned. 

My jade green eyes locked on Johnny’s concerned look. I tilted my head. 

“Worry doesn't look good on you, Johnny.” I said in a playful manner, smiling. Before he could answer I opened my arms. “How do I look?”  

“Like a bear dragged you through the night,” he sighed, scratching his chin, and I giggled. 

“Perfect, crazy lady attire then,” I let down my arms, and massaged my hurting neck. “Am I free to go, officer?” 

“You are, actually,” he nodded and we stood there for a beat longer. 

“Are you still allowed to have lunch with me?” I asked shyly. He looked at me longer this time, his messy hair falling into his eyes. 

“Am I allowed to ask questions about the night?” he asked back and I bit my lips. 

“You are.” I nodded finally. 

“See you at the diner, then, Phiny.” he smirked, clicking his tongue and I shook my head. 

“Sure will,” I spun on my heels and left the holding cell. 

I walked the dark hallways, then up the stairs toward the main area of the station.

My eyes stayed forward, my steps steady, my body screaming with every movement – but I wore my calm like an armor.

The station was barely alive. Burnt coffee and stale cigarette smoke clung to the air. Somewhere, paper rustled; low voices hummed beneath the fluorescent buzz. Only a few were in. The whole scene felt strangely intimate, the kind of quiet a civilian wasn’t meant to see. 

The noise of my steps was swallowed by the linoleum. 

Halfway across the room, I felt it.

That weight.

I turned my head just enough, and there he was.

It felt as if the whole world slowed. He was standing beside Officer Riley, but his stormy blues were locked on me. Calm. Cold. No emotions could be read from his face. My jaw tightened, and I turned my head ahead. 

The heavy doors groaned as I pushed through.

Cold morning air slapped my skin, and I breathed it in. The station had been heavy with the trapped heat of the last few scorching days. Out here, the air was sharp, August light pale and new.

The town was slowly flickering to life, but most of the streets were empty.

I glanced at the watchtower. 

Quarter to seven – 6:45 AM.

Good. Then at least nobody were to witness my walk of shame home. 

– – – – – – – – – – 

My front door creaked open, and a soft thud answered me.

Omen darted across the hardwood, tail high, paws clicking like an impatient metronome. He wove between my legs with the energy of someone about to file a complaint. He let out loud meows, as if a spouse, ready to deliver a lecture after I’d stayed out all night without a warning. 

“Sorry, lovie… I know, I know…”

I kicked off my boots, shrugged out of the denim coat, and let it fall in a heap to the floor. The weight of it left my shoulders strangely bare.

Omen shadowed me into the living room, green eyes sharp, as if cataloguing every wince and stiff movement. The blanket hung half off the couch, my mug of tea sat cold on the table, tarot cards scattered like debris from a storm.

The patio door was still cracked open. Fresh draft slid through it, making the thin, lacey curtains dance. I crossed the room, wood creaking underneath my dirty feet, and I closed it with a quiet click. For a moment I just stood there – leaning against the wall, tired eyes strained on the dark woods far on my property, still whispering.

With a groan I pushed myself from the glass, heading towards my couch. 

I slowly folded the blanket, and collected the pillows pushed to the ground. I crouched to gather the cards. My ribs protested, my arms ached. I slid the deck together as I straightened up, only to fumble and send two skittering under the coffee table. 

A heavy sigh left my lips and I leaned down, severely bruised arm searching for the missing cards. 

I pulled them from the rug, and my eyes settled on them. 

Soft scoff leaving my lips. 

The Hanged Man. The Eight of Swords. 

“Very funny…” I muttered, shoving them back into the deck and setting it on the bookshelf. 

In the bathroom, I let the hot water run over my aching body. The sting on my skin woke me more than the coffee I hadn’t yet made. 

I sat on the edge of my tub with a clean, fluffy towel around me. My hair dripping from water, drenching the back of my towel, skin finally smelled like exotic flowers, muscles relaxed under the battered skin. With a little brush I was scrubbing my nails clean, stubborn dirt still stuck in the nailbeds. 

Next I brushed out my tangled hair in slow, careful strokes, watching Omen circle my feet. He jumped on the counter as my fingers massaged oils into my curling locks. 

I stood with a soft groan, letting the towel slip to the ground beside my destroyed nightgown. I leaned down to slip a pair of underwear on, only to hear Omen hiss. 

I glanced at him over my shoulder. He wasn’t hissing at the door, nor the window, but at my full body mirror. I followed his gaze. 

My breath hitched. 

Scratches tracked along my shoulders, bruises bloomed in deep purples and sickly yellows, faint red rings marked my wrists.

“Jesus…” I whispered, the sound almost foreign in the small room. 

I straightened up, turning slowly. My whole body looked… destroyed. Little cuts here, longer scratches there, consistent with stumbling through the woods blind. However, there were bruises too. Those around my knees, I understood. But there were a few prints on my hips… 

The image of Sheriff Price grabbing me tightly flashed through my mind. Fingers digging into my skin as he held me on his shoulder, iron fists yanking me back when I defied him. 

Oh.

Omen blinked, tail curling again, as if he’d already known what I just placed together. 

I swallowed hard, then forced myself to move. 

I continued to dress in my room, slipping on a loose dress – long flowy sleeves, soft linen swallowing my whole body. 

Later, before leaving for the diner I wrapped a wide belt around my waist to create a nicer silhouette, and pulled my boots over my soft socks. 

My body looked better by then… The bruises darkened under the material, but the only visible marks of the night were on my shoulders – little scratches, probably caused by twigs and branches I stumbled over. 

I refused to think about the night. The sleepwalking, or whatever that was. Never in my life have I had such a busy full moon. It seemed Briar Hollow had an innate effect on me that I was not prepared for… 

Omen jumped to my passenger seat as I was ready to pull from my driveway. He curled on the expensive leather seat, not taking his eyes off of me. 

“I’m not going to disappear, you know.” I slid my heavily ringed fingers over his head. He purred, closing his eyes gently, and I placed my hand back on the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition, and pulled out to the road. 

Briar Hollow looked the same. Children running and biking on the pavement, old ladies tending to their gardens, some stay at home dads watering their grass. A light, cooler breeze made the flags dance above porches, while also swiping the scorching hot air out of the streets.

It was a colder day, greyish clouds circling above the town as I pulled up to the diner. Omen snuck into my bag as I exited the car. 

My steps were confident, back straight, head high, my reddish hair bouncing with each step. Nothing suggested that anything had changed. I seemed fine, my smile didn’t even falter as I greeted Molly and the other waitresses behind the counter, nor as I exchanged a few words with a few farmers waiting for their coffee. Not even when I slid across Rosa and Officer Garrick, settling beside Johnny. 

“Our little banshee, enchantress of the night!” Johnny smirked. “Looking better, Phiny.” 

“Thanks,” I muttered, pushing my glasses on top of my head and rolling my eyes. 

“Heard you had an eventful evening,” Rosa said, sipping her coffee, Garrick’s arm draped casually behind her shoulder.

“Darling…” the calm man sighed beside her. 

“What? I’m curious!” she leaned back with a grin, but her eyes slid down my body and her lips twitched. “Oof… that doesn’t look good,” I followed her gaze and felt heat creep up my neck. The shoulder of my dress had slipped, revealing the bruises on my upper arm. I quickly tugged the fabric back into place.

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, as a mug was placed in front of me, I smiled up at the waitress. “Thank you.” 

“I hear the Sheriff was so mad he was literally shaking while lighting his cigar,” Rosa said, glancing at Garrick for confirmation.

“I don’t get why he was so angry,” I said, reaching for the cinnamon. “He was the one who locked me up.”

“He thought you were doing some ritual,” Garrick said. 

“Yeah, and he arrested me, kept me all night in that epilepsy-inducing holding cell,” I muttered.  

“Hardly all night,” Garrick injected and I looked up at him. “It was around one, maybe one-thirty in the morning when he dragged you through the door.” 

“Oh.” I blinked, surprised

“What were you even doing?” the question everybody asked and not even me, the perpetrator had the answer to that. 

I stirred my coffee, pursing my lips under three pairs of expectant eyes. “I… was sleepwalking,” I admitted finally, feeling hotness spread on my cheeks.

“What?” the men chorused.

“You’re not serious right now,” Rosa’s eyes widened.

“One minute I was watching the news on my couch, next I was in the middle of nowhere.” I said, and it felt nice to finally put it into words… It helped me process. 

“The sheriff said you were miles outside the town border,” Garrick leaned a little forward, and Johnny just stared at me.

“Well, frankly, I don’t know how far I went,” I rubbed my face. “All I know is that my legs and feet look like a voodoo doll after a heart break.” 

Johnny snorted. “You’re lucky you’re not a pincushion too.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, smirking despite myself.

 “Honestly, I’d pay to see the look on the Sheriff’s face when he realized it wasn’t witchcraft,” Rosa added with a laugh.

I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth and laughter settle into me. For the first time since the night, the weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter.

“I don’t think it makes much of a difference,” I shrugged. “He would probably think I induced that sleepwalk with magic mushrooms or something.” 

“Yeah, likely." Johnny chuckled pushing his fork into his food. 

We stayed in the diner for roughly an hour, laughing about stupid stuff, the guys telling their drunk-arrest stories – the fun ones – and Rosa was deep into planning once again.

“Town fair?” I nearly choked on my coffee as Omen purred on my lap. “We just had that picnic thing!”

“You cannot blame me! Summer is for community building. We won’t have any town programs in September,” she sighed with theatrical sadness.

“Yeah, but the Harvest Festival is early October,” Johnny said around a mouthful of toast.

“You’re laughing, but this is important,” Rosa pointed her spoon at us like a gavel.

“Very,” Garrick nodded, tone as steady as if he was confirming a crime scene report.

“It’s one of the most important duties of the city hall,” she added, eyes narrowing at him.

“That’s right,” he agreed smoothly, sipping his coffee.

“You should be all grateful for–”

“Yes.” Garrick interrupted, nodding along before Rosa could even finish it. 

I covered my mouth to hide a laugh, but Johnny was already wheezing.

“Would you like to sleep on the couch tonight?” she snapped her head towards Garrick.

Garrick didn’t flinch, the man moved his arms around her. “Now, let’s not make hasty decisions,” he said in the exact same tone he used during traffic stop negotiations.

Johnny nearly spit out his coffee, and I was doubled over. Rosa, however, looked very done with her husband. I shook my head with a smile and finished my coffee. Omen, somehow always knowing my next steps curled inside my bag.

“Mm, I gotta go,” I stood up, and glanced at the other three, more at Garrick and Johnny. “Don’t you guys fear the big bad sheriff?” 

“Nah, that man has a heart of gold! He lets us have proper lunch breaks.” Johnny chew slowly, and I squinted. 

Across the street I noticed the man. Sheriff Price’s big figure moved down the shady side. Hat on, glasses hiding his eyes… Fingers rubbing his brows. 

His presence made my stomach flip, chest shaking as unfamiliar feelings flooded the icy heart. 

I leaned forward and squinted. 

“I don’t want to be a doomsayer, but, um, Price is rubbing his brow like he did in July… When he sent me off kindly with my property papers.” I winced and the men froze. Johnny swallowed his last bite and was up. 

“I guess we gotta go.”

“Yeah, see you later, darling.” Kyle kissed his wife and the two hulk of men ran off. I looked at Rosa and she chuckled. 

“My ‘I fear no man’ husband, and his ‘I lay down to no one’ friend,” she sipped her coffee with a twitching eyebrow. 

“You can’t exactly blame them,” I chuckled as she too stood up. 

“Yeah, well, I know,” Rosa smoothed down her dress and we left the diner side by side. 

“Are you sure you are good, by the way?” her deep chocolate eyes rested on me as she asked and I nodded. 

“Yes, thanks… I’ll be fine,” I smiled at her, and she sighed, touching my arm. 

“Alright, darling.” 

– – – – – – – – – – – – 

I only wanted a book on dreams and psychic abilities. But as if Lindy sensed something, her pale blue eyes rested on my tired face. 

“You should come to our next coven meeting,” she packed books into the paperbag. 

“Oh…” I stopped searching for my wallet for a second. “I didn’t know you were in a coven.”

“Not many would think so,” she chuckled, her pale eyes swam to mines. “I have a rather normal life… But anyways, you should come.” 

“I don’t know,” I gave her the money, shaking my head. “I follow a rather different path than Wiccans.” 

“Oh, don’t be discouraged. Helena followed her own path, as well,” Lindy put the money away, and the mention of my Nana’s name piqued my interest. I looked at her surprised, she noticed, so she explained. “She liked to join us sometimes. It can get rather lonely following the path of eclectic witches.”

I pulled my lip between my teeth. I only wanted to ask her about dreams… Sleepwalking and whispers. The next second she was offering to join her and her coven on their next meeting. 

“It’s not a commitment, but maybe you’ll find the answers you’re looking for,” she smiled mysteriously as I took the paper bag from the counter. 

“You’re very good at convincing people,” I tilted my head. 

“I’m a business woman,” she smirked and I laughed. 

“I’ll think about it. But thank you,” I said. 

“No pressure. High blessings, Seraphina,” she said as I was walking out. 

“High blessings,” I waved to her and stepped out of her little shop. 

I checked my phone as I was walking – errands in town. 

Oldie & Goldie – new night gowns. Check; new pieces loaded in my car already. 

Willow & Wick – book on weird annoying whispers or dreams. Check;  in bag. 

McKinley’s Tools – idk, get what the man suggest for that damn porch

I sighed and turned my steps towards that store. 

Nana had many things in that goddamn garage of hers, not tools – well, I did not find any yet, but there were plenty of hidden stuff in there still. 

The bells over the door chimed, their sound crisp against the faint smell of oil and sawdust.

The Mr. McKinley's hardware store was quiet, save for the low hum of a radio somewhere in the back.

I didn’t come here to run into anyone. Least of all him. But fate had a nasty habit of placing us in the same room at the exact wrong time.

I almost spun on my heels as I seen the two men at the counter, but the man behind the counter already seen me.

“Ah, I’ll be with you in a second, miss,” the man in the black uniform said and I nodded, averting my eyes as Price kept glaring at me. He had his jacket on – the one I was sleeping under only hours ago… And that painful scowl, not sure if it was because of his migraine… It was more like his baseline when he'd seen me… 

I grabbed a basket and I walked down an aisle. I looked at paint, thinking about my bedroom’s ceiling, but then I wandered further – hammers, screwdrivers, those weird papers you would smooth wood with. I guess I needed those, yes? 

“I’m telling you, Sheriff. Someone's been breaking into my cabin up North,” the owner’s strained voice snuck down the aisle. 

“You keep it locked?” Price’s voice echoed as I kept turning a hammer between my hands, but I did not move. 

“I do… and normally, I wouldn’t have been up there until autumn, but my wife has been nagging me with cleaning it up a little before the hunting season starts,” he sighed. “And that’s when I noticed the muddy footprints and the broken window.” 

“Hm,” Price hummed but he did not seem convinced. “Where exactly were these footprints?” 

“Around the house, up the porch… and inside,” my lashes fluttered. The man hesitated telling him that, and I shook my head, putting the hammer back. I should not have listened to their conversation. “I also found–” 

I moved further to the back, out of hearing range and I actually got very invested in some wallpapers. Very pretty ones, fitting my house’s aesthetic. I decided to go ask the clerk about it, but as I turned an aisle I immediately had to stop. 

“Oh, Sheriff,” I gasped since he stood at the corner. Arms crossed, eyes fixed on me with his usual scowl. “Good afternoon, sir.” 

I’m not gonna lie, I had to force the over the top politeness. I just wanted to hex the man in front of me so bad. He kept being difficult, always having a suspicious glint in his eyes as if I would pull a broom from under my dress and fly away… 

“You always have to get yourself in trouble, don’t you…” he looked down at me with those blue eyes that were in pain… Like, he tried to hide it, but if someone paid attention, one could see it around him – the scowl, the veins, the tight jaw. “Didn’t your mother tell you that eavesdropping is a nasty habit?” 

“My mother told me a lot of things, Sheriff,” I huffed and I turned my head away, rummaging through some tools I did not even know the name of. 

“What are you doing here?” his deep voice wrapped around me.

“I’m buying tools?” 

“Why?” 

“Do you question all the residents in Briar Hollow this thoroughly?” I raised my brow.

“Only the ones who spent the evening in a holding cell,” he answered without a beat. 

I scoffed, turning my head away but I could feel his presence. It was towering, close… And now I could catch his cologne anywhere. It made my tummy flutter violently, even though I told my body to stop. 

 “You never answered my question,” he tilted his head, and I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He had his arms crossed, and eyes on me. I threw the tool back and it clinked loudly, which made his jaw clench. 

Oops, forgot about the headache…

“I’m renovating my house,” I shrugged and I walked past him. 

“Still?” He raised his brow. 

“It’s a big house. A big estate. A lot of things to do, and I only have two hands,” I spun back to him looking up into those painfully beautiful eyes. Nooo, shut uppp… 

I know he wanted to say something, but his eyes fell to my arm and his lashes fluttered. My jaw tightened, and I reached to the sleeve of my dress – its shoulders kept falling off, revealing secrets they were not supposed to. 

“Would that be all, Sheriff Price? Or should I go with you to the station to get a proper questioning,” I looked up at him without showing any concern about the big bruises blooming underneath my dress as I pulled back the troublesome sleeve to my shoulder. 

“Careful with the smart-mouthing, Ms. Barlow,” he warned, his eyes slowly setting on mine. Jesus, he kept saying my name with that slow, deep cadence… It was delicious and aggravating all at once. My mouth twitched. 

I lowered my voice and chuckled softly.

“Or what? You arrest me?” I asked so quietly only he could hear it, and based on the look on his face, I managed to annoy him once again. I flashed him a thousand watt smile, “Bye, sheriff.” 

I walked to the counter with a smile still playing on my lips, and I heard the door open and shut behind him. 

I shook my head utterly amused, then before I could call for the shop owner, there it was again. 

Those lips… Those eyes gonna kill me… 

It was like a whisper. I shut my eyes and clenched my jaw. 

For a while now, I was sure those voices were not my thoughts. No… Thoughts were inside, you could not exactly hear them… But these whispers, or whatever the hell they were, those were real noises. I could hear them with my ears, as if someone stood beside me or father away and spoke. Always soft, always just out of reach, but real enough to make me turn and look… Only to see nobody there.  

It sent shivers down my spine… Because I could not tell whose voice that was.

I guess… Visiting that coven wasn’t that bad idea afterall. 

– – – – – – – – – 

It was hard to watch that big man crumble. 

His whole body was tense, eyes nursing big, dark circles underneath them. His jaw was set, brows constantly pulled together. And his eyes were dead tired… I did not talk to him, but his whole aura was so murky, you could sense him from the opposite side of the road. 

And I had enough of watching him… 

One late night I drove by his house. I was sure he wasn’t at home – Johnny said he usually buried himself in his job when his head was killing him… According to him, sleep was not an option for Price when he got like this. 

And yeah, that man was aggravating, but I could not watch him kill himself slowly when the solution sat in my cupboard. 

His house was simple, two stories, proper. 

His grass cut, porch not creaking, paint not peeling. 

It was like him: put together, cold, everything in order. 

My steps were quiet on the dark porch, I placed down the tin box right in front of his door. 

It was small, but visible. Dark blue with little silver constellations. Inside instruction on a little note and a small, drawstring pouch filled with herbs… Tea. It did wonders for migraine, or so I’ve been told. 

I did not leave a note, no name either. 

I just… I just could not watch him suffer any longer. 

My feet dashed down the stairs, leaving his property as soon as possible. I just did not want to spend another night in a holding cell for trespassing…

Anyway, I wasn’t sure if he’d drink it or throw it out. I was sure he hated me too much to immediately try it, but I knew men in desperation… And a few days later when I saw him again, he was calm, a bit more well-rested. 

The library garden smelled faintly of lavender and cut grass, the kind of soft summer scent that made you want to linger longer outside.

It was a serene evening, kind of my usual. I sat on the edge of the picnic table, iced coffee in hand, a small semicircle of teenage girls sat around me on the benches. Cards spread between us, the last of the sun catching on the gold foil edges as I pushed the cards around.

“So when these two show up together,” I tapped the cards – The Moon and The Lovers – “the meaning shifts. Alone, The Moon is all about illusion and uncertainty,” I glanced up at them with a little smirk. “Hidden truth. But with The Lovers here, which talks about strong partnerships and relationships…” my voice trailed off.

“…it can mean that there is a connection that goes beyond the surface. Because of The Moon there could be a lot of uncertainty about this relationship, but can also indicate a deep level of understanding and trust,” I spun the card between my fingers, relaxed eyes resting on the image then I looked at the girls with a small grin. “Basically, trust your intuition, follow your heart even when you have to risk stepping into the unknown.”

The girls giggled, one of them chewing her lip like she was picturing a very specific boy.

A shadow passed across the table.

 “Infecting the youth mind again, Ms. Barlow?”

That deep voice could only belong to one man…

I sipped my coffee slowly, chewing on my straw with a smirk. “Only teaching them a bit of art,” I raised my head to catch the man’s eyes. 

Across the table, two of the girls glanced at each other, eyes going wide, and I could practically hear their thoughts: The DILF. Well, more specifically DILF-s, because Officer Riley was leaning against their patrol car, arms crossed, orange hue painting his uniform. 

Price stepped closer, the brim of the sunset catching his jaw. “This what you mean by art?”

“I have an art and literature degree, sir,” I said sweetly. “Everything’s art to me.”

His lips twitched, so quick you’d miss it. His eyes shifted from me, to the drooling teens. 

“Go home, girls. It’s getting dark.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. His eyes were always softer when he was talking to somebody else who was not me.

I swear to god, red tint spread on the girl's cheeks, as their fingers reached for the cards. They gathered their decks with hurried hands, murmuring, “Bye, Sera,” and, “Night, Sheriff,” in voices that trembled with shy excitement.

Once we were alone, his attention slid back to me.

“Don’t you have better things to do than hanging out with teenagers?” he asked, rubbing at his jaw, blues eyes resting on me as if he was not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“I’m building a community,” I said, still perched on the table with a small grin. Orange light caught in my reddish locks, setting them alight like a bonfire against the cool, purple-blue hush of the coming dusk

“You’re building a coven,” he countered flatly.

“Hardly.” I scoffed, meeting his eyes. And maybe it was my imagination, but he looked… better. No shadows under his eyes. No tightness in his jaw. His blue eyes calm, not whincing by any louder noise. 

He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the empty coffee cup in my hand, then back to me. “You planning on making a habit of… dropping mystery brews at my door?”

The corner of my mouth curled. “Only if you want me to, Sheriff,” soft giggling leaving my lips.

I placed my feet on the bench, then leaped from the table, landing softly. My bracelets and necklaces chimed together in the warm air. He was right there, big enough to make me tilt my chin to meet his gaze.

“Good night, sir.” I said softly, a smile tugging at my lips.

He didn’t answer – not with words – but his eyes were very talkative. 

I waved to Officer Riley by the car, he tipped his hat, then with one last glance at the sheriff I spun on my heels and walked off with a gentle sway. 

And I knew I annoyed him… I think we annoyed each other, because we saw through people’s masks rather easily, but I knew he could not read me. He could not control me, therefore, he could not trust me.

But that sentiment was shared – not that I did not trust the sheriff, I just had trouble reading him… And his mood swings were giving me a headache. 

Hey there :) Thank you so much for reading! Next part already in process. Many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 9]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: cursing, suggestive languages, i cuss like a sailor, aggressive actions, quite sadistic Price if you ask me, bit of physical violence (?), abuse of power, mentioning of a dead body and murder; age gap - but we do be liking that tho i got carried away once again... fair warning, i might have repeated myself a few times (nouns, verbs and adjectives wise), sorry for that! anywaysss, enjoy :)

The Hanged Man

I tried to forget about everything that happened at the cemetery. And as if Rosa and Johnny sensed something strange was happening to me, they made sure to drag me out of my house – where I spent long hours, still renovating. I mean, it was a big house! A vast estate… I had a lot to do… Still, those two were not taking no as an answer, so I found myself driving out to the lakes, hidden in the woods near town.

I was out on the picnic, which was fun, I was helping out Rosa, pouring lemonade to kids. Dressed more... conventionally. Some soft summer dress, still black but less witchy… 

I was laughing, enjoying the sun -- august always felt like the truest summer to me. Almost dipping into Autumn, but it was still warm with more breeze and more beautiful colors. 

I was laughing with Rosa about something and handed a cup of lemonade to a little kid. 

“Aren’t you hot?” the little kid with floaties hugging his thin arms looked at me. 

“Well, I quite enjoy the warm weather.” 

“So... you’re not going to swim?” he pressed and his mother ruffled his hair, trying to shush him. I smiled at her then down at her son. 

“Well, I’m not quite fond of the water, lovie.” I said and his eyes went wide, he leaned a little closer, so did I. 

“Is it because you’re a witch?” he whispered, making his mother let out petrified gasp and me laugh. “We went to visit a village last week. They put witches in the water to see if they were really witches.” he said excitedly. I giggled and looked at his mother. 

“I’m sorry about this, Ms. Barlow.” she laughed gently patting his boy’s lips as he tried to continue talking. “We went to visit my parents in Massachusetts and visited one of those pioneer towns.” she said with a soft smile. 

“Ah, those are fun.” I giggled. “Many prosecutions and stakes.”  I said and she laughed nervously. 

“Quite literally.” the lady pulled his son with her, and she gently scolded him about the witch stuff. 

“But mom! Everybody says she is–” I could hear his dying voice and I could not help but chuckle. I looked up and I met with dark blue eyes. 

Giggle died on my throat. I nervously looked away then back at him, trying to act as if I wasn’t shaking. 

“Sheriff Price! Hi.” I smiled at him, averting my eyes to look for another paper cup. “Lemonade?” 

“No, thank you.” he said calmly. 

“Oh… Perhaps water then?” I asked and our eyes met. He nodded, and I turned to grab one from the minifridge the townhall set up – they did not want people falling from the hot weather. 

“Helping out again?” he asked and I almost fell over my legs. Jesus… His voice was low, calm, and it made me shake. I could handle him being an asshole, now this 180 was most definitely unexpected. 

“Mm, yes. Mrs. Garrick is very persuasive.” I straightened up, nudging my head towards Rosa who was chatting up a few ladies at the other end of the ‘hydration station’. 

“That she can be.” he chuckled, tilting his head forward, his hat overshadowing his face. 

He actually chuckled. Eyes turning into little lines, cheeks rounding sweetly as he smiled. 

It was petrifying. 

“Here you go.” I reached the cold water bottle towards him. It already started to sweat from the hot weather. 

His big hands wrapped around it, and once again I realized I was a meek little thing compared to him. I pulled my hand back as soon as he held it securely, and I smiled at him. 

“Enjoying the event, sir?” I asked as he still lingered.

“It’s decent.” he answered after a beat, glancing toward the crowd. He held the bottle between his big, heavy hands. He wore civil clothes, jeans, dark shirt, his badge on his hip, his sheriff hat on top of his head. He looked too good to be true… And it made me wonder how a man like that was still single. My train of thoughts stopped as he tilted his head, his blue eyes seemed more striking in the early afternoon daylight. I blinked as he locked eyes with me, and I was reminded, I was in a conversation with him. “Ever since Rosa took over the planning, these things have been easier to stomach,” he added finally. 

I chuckled and averted my gaze, soothed the checkered tablecloth, buying just a second to steady myself. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still new but she is quite amazing at organizing.” 

“No wonder you two found each other.” he said and I looked up at him a bit surprised. Tilting my head as if asking, please elaborate.

“She was a force of nature when she came here years ago…" his gaze flickered to mine -- steady, unreadable eyes. "Guess kindred spirits find each other.” he said with a little smirk and walked off. 

I stared after him, completely frozen. 

Was he actually… kind to me? I brought my brows together, trying to figure out what was that. But I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me jump a little. 

“Hey, there.” Rosa laughed, glancing after the sheriff who joined his officers. “He didn’t give you much of a hard time, did he?” 

“No… He was actually, kinda, okay?” I looked at her petrified and she laughed. 

“You phrase it as if that’s a bad thing.” she grabbed an empty pitcher. 

“I don’t know… I cannot read that man.” I shook my head, grabbing a few paper cups that’s been pushed over by the wind. 

There was a shift change, and Rosa dragged me to the water. I looked at kids laughing with their parents, young and old laughing in the quite, cold water – a spring supplied the water into the lake. It was coming form the mountains, and I gently dipped my fingers in it. 

Ah, hell nah… It was too cold for me… 

“You seriously did not bring a swimming suit?” Rosa looked at me with a little smile. Her deep, melanin rich skin looked amazing contrasting her white one piece. A cover, tied with a knot, hung low on her hip, hem waving around her ankles. 

“I don’t think I own one…” 

“Yes you do.” Marla and Etta interrupted our conversation and we glanced towards them. They looked fabulous, really, covered properly with little parasols, big hats and last century glasses. 

“Bloody amazing, an original piece from the 50s.” Etta added fanning herself. 

“Have an amazing body, and she hides herself in this much fabric” Marla sighed as Rosa giggled. 

“I’m the town’s whore! How can you say that?” i played mock offended. 

“Honey, if you’re a whore, then I’m a virgin, and we both know that’s a lie.” Etta scoffed and the arriving Johnny and Garrick turned red, while Rosa burst of laughter. 

Garrick rubbed his face, and Johnny stood there, frozen mid-step as the two older ladies strolled off. Rosa kissed her husband’s face. 

“That's an image that just won't erase…” Johnny grunted, and I shook my head as a giggle slipped my lips.

“You just have to stop sneaking up on people like that! You clearly deserved it.” 

“I have military training, woman! I can’t exactly help it.” he semi-shouted at me, and I laughed, rolling my eyes. 

“But the ladies are right, Seraphina.” Garrick smiled next from his wife. “Where is your swimsuit?” 

“I dress like a proper lady for one day and people are questioning me.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh, come on, who cares what others are saying?” Johnny patted my back and I glared at him. He squinted. “Right, I shut up.” 

Rosa was already eyeing me like I was her next project.

“You brought your swimsuit, right?”

I arched a brow and sighed. “I did, but I won’t get in that! It feels like a glacier, even under my fingertips?”

“Good. Then you can just sit to the side, looking gorgeous in it.” She held out her hand.

I sighed, because I knew that tone – the 'you’re going to lose this battle' tone. “You know, some people come to these things just to relax...” I placed my hand into hers.

“Mm-hm. And some people need to be reminded they have legs.”

In no time I was in my black one piece – it was from the 50s, hugging me perfectly, while also covering more than the traditional 21st century bathing suits.

Well, I showed a lot of skin, henna curling around one of my feet– late nights in front of my TV, absentminded doodling… And my jewellery still on – belly beads, ankle bracelet, bracelets. I walked bare feet, enjoyed the green grass under my feet. 

I wanted to sneak to the water, quietly, near the tree lines, but it proved to be difficult. First of all, the ladies from Oldie & Goldie cheered at us as they saw Rosa and I walk towards the lake. 

“Finally! Some proper entertainment.” they giggled and I was glad my eyes were hidden behind my glasses. Rosa was quick to engage in banter with the ladies and I just laid a towel down into the grass. I wanted to remain with the ladies – less attention seeking, the better. 

I shook off my cover up, and I sat in the shade extending my legs. 

Omen lounged near the old ladies all day long, now he patted towards me and curled beside my hips as I held my upper body up by my elbows. 

“You look like a movie star, little magpie. Doesn’t she, Etta.” Marla giggled as I tilted my head back to look at them. The ladies fanned themselves, and Rosa already jumped into another conversation with a few younger women. I had no idea how she was capable of striking up conversations anywhere, anytime with anybody...

“Well, yes, she does.” Etta chirped.

“Stop it, ladies, you are making me blush.” I sighed, turning my head back to Omen.

“Well, it’s true.” Etta shrugged with a mischievous smile. 

“And it’s not only Mrs. Garrick who is getting checked out by a police officer.” Marla giggled nad I looked at them with raised brows. I followed their gaze. 

Sure enough, Garrick’s eyes followed his wife respectfully as she was marching over to us with her towel. She waved to her husband, and I giggled how whipped that man was for her. 

“That is a good marriage right there.” Ms. Joy – Etta and Marla’s old friend added. “Man whipped, woman worshipped.” 

“Amen,” Etta said and I could not help but laugh as Marla hummed along, fanning herself. 

I swear to God, those old ladies truly acted as if they were in a coven. 

“Causing commotion, Mrs. Garrick! Distracting the law enforcement!" I shielded my eyes with my hand, being overtly dramatic. “How very sinful.” I quoted her words and she rolled her eyes, laying her towel beside mine, and sitting down on it. The smell of her coconut sunscreen oozed around her, and her pearly whites flashed at me. 

“Oh, shush you! He’s my husband – it’s in the Lord’s favour for a man to check out his woman once in a while.” Rosa sighed, and the old ladies cackled while I huffed. Then her eyes caught something and I heard Ms. Joy’s voice. 

“Well now… not all the looking is married looking.” Ms. Joy tipped her parasol toward the tree line like she was spotting trouble.

“Joy,” Etta gasped theatrically, “you’re gonna make the poor girl blush.”

“She already is,” Marla said, eyes twinkling at me. “Look at her cheeks. And that’s before she even notices who’s watching.” 

I followed the tilt with my eyes — and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Sheriff Price was standing with two deputies near the picnic tables, one hand wrapped around a water bottle. His expression was… sharp. Not exactly a scowl, but his brows were set, his jaw was tight, and every time his gaze slid my way, it was heavy on my skin.

I froze, heat crawling up my neck. “Don’t be ridiculous," I muttered under my breath. “he is just checking if everything is alright…

Etta let out a low whistle. “Mmhm. Yes, checking with ears bright red, all right.”

“He’s got more patience than I’d have,” Marla murmured, fanning herself lazily. “Bet he takes his sweet time with everything.”

“Marla!” I half-laughed, half-hissed, my hand flying to scratch Omen’s head trying to drench out some nervous energy. 

“Look at that man, darlin’ and tell me he is not fighting himself.” Etta said and I mumbled. 

“No. He's looking at me as if I kicked his dog.” I sighed.

“He looks like he might snap that water bottle’s neck… He seems frustrated.” Rosa looked towards the man over the brim of her sunglasses. 

“Not you too.” I sighed, turning even redder. The ladies were shamelessly staring at the sheriff, which made my avoiding gaze more noticeable. 

Rosa chuckled as she saw my cheeks turn redder, and I mumbled something about going to get the ladies some iced drink to cool their thoughts. 

“Don’t be shy, darlin’, with a body like that it’d be weird if he didn’t keep glancing at you.” Marla called after me, and I glared back at them with crimson cheeks. 

“Cool it, Jesus! I’m going to snitch on you to Father Benson!” I threatened them and quickly darted to the lemonade stand, trying to distance myself.

Hell! They were worse than teenagers teasing each other…

-----------------

I did end up in the water after all…

It’s not like I planned it. 

It was more like an unfortunate accident. 

Jed and I were talking and walking on the long dock. It extended far into the lake, old wood creaking underneath our steps. Kids were jumping off from the sides, and I kept to the middle, walking close to Jed.

I wasn’t very fond of water. It wasn’t exactly a phobia, I just did not like the idea of fully immersing myself into something cold, dark and wet. I also hated when things touched my leg underneath the water, ew. 

We were strolling down on the old wooden planks, he said something about going back to college soon, and how he enjoyed the summer here at home… He was sweet, but he was still searching for himself.

“... I am in a fraternity, ya' know, but the initiation wasn’t that bad to be honest. I’d rather not say what we had to do, though.” he glanced at me with a slight pink tint on his face, but still somewhat smug. 

I raised my brow. “I knew I caught some frat-rat vibes from you.” 

“Hey! We’re not frat-rats. We’re… okay, maybe we are, but in like, the nice way. We are nerds, you know.” he said and I looked at him amused, already laughing as he realized what he just said. "No, wait..."

“It’s alright, darling, I know… Engineers are kinda like that, but they can be sweet.” I sighed. “They are hella cocky though, acting they are the smartest in the room.” 

“Well, because we are.” he said and I snorted. 

“You wish.”

“You are not really fond of my department?” he raised his brow and my lips twitched.

“I wouldn’t say that.” I laughed and thought for a second. “When I was in college I used to date these history major boys... Engineers remind me of them.” 

“Why?” he looked at me confused, his dark eyes swallowing my body. I ignored that -- I usually ignored it when he looked at me how a platonic friend shouldn't.

“Socially awkward, talking your ears off, and looking as if they've never felt the touch of a woman – but rather flirty if they’re drunk.” I said looking into his eyes, and he turned deep red. 

“Well, khm, that’s actually kinda… I mean, I’m not saying you’re wrong.” he coughed nervously and I giggled.  “You must have dated a lot of them…” 

“I’ve dated just enough so I know the stereotypes.” I crossed my arms as we slowly reached the end of the dock. It was absolutely beautiful, a huge lake surrounded by dark woods, and the mountains hugging the whole territory around. It was magical. 

I looked up at him, as we came to a halt. 

“So, you think I’m a nerd.” he smirked, turning to me slightly.

“Mm-hm. But a cute one.” I glanced at him. 

“…That’s – wait, are you mocking me or complimenting me?”

I giggled, not specifying. He rubbed the back of his neck as he turned red. Then his eyes swam back to me, widening a bit as he froze. 

“Oh, careful, I uh–” he was reaching towards me, getting all close, and I took a step back confused.

And it all happened so quickly… He was rather clumsy as he wanted to swat a bug away. 

“Jed, careful!” I warned and placed a hand on his chest, but his leg tangled into a rope, and in the next second his body was pushing mine into the ice cold lake. 

I shrieked as my body was swallowed, his weight pushing mine deeper. 

It was bloody cold.

Silence filled my head, and his body disappeared. I heard distant mumbles above the water, quiet bubbles bursting beside me. I could not open my eyes, I was never able to do that. 

And for a second, everything calmed. 

I don't remember when was the last time feeling that much calm... Peace. I let my body just float in that icy cold water.

Then the distant noise of whispers, first quiet then slightly louder slipped around me. They multiplied, yet, I was unable to make out what they were saying. I shook my head, then my eyes snapped open. Air slipped past my lips as I felt something brush against my leg.

I kicking myself up, pushing water around me ascending to the surface. I was gasping for air and my hair pushed back, flat on top of my head. My palms rubbed water out of my eyes.

The peace was gone, everything became so loud. Children laughing, some people leaning down the dock asking if we were ok, and I was just trying to catch my breath. 

Jed was laughing, and my jaw ticked. Omen stared from the deck, walking up and down, panicking – he hated me in water, and I sighed. I swam back to the dock, just waving off help with a slightly annoyed smile as someone tried grabbing me. I pushed myself out with water dripping down my body. Molly – the girl from the diner – looked at me worried, and I just gave her a tight lipped smile. 

“Sorry, Sera.” Jed called from the water, and Molly looked down at him shaking her blonde locks. 

“God, Gerald.” she sighed.

“It’s fine, Jed, you good?” I asked, looking down at the actually grinning boy. God, he was a kid. 

“Never been better,” he laughed and as Molly scolded him, reaching her hand towards him, he actually pulled her in the water too.

Good God – I was too old for this. 

Omen looked up at me, avoiding the water gushing out of my hair and swimsuit. I walked down the dock, feeling the eyes on me, leaving wet foot prints behind.

God, I hated cold water… Hated pools, hated ponds and lakes, and most importantly, I hated how people looked at my swaying, wet body. 

I felt utterly exposed, even though that vintage piece covered more than a usual swimsuit... 

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I actually might have looked pissed because Rosa tilted her head with a small, worried look glinting in her eyes. Johnny, on the other hand, grinning like wild cat, was ready to fire a joke at me but I snapped him a glare before he could form a sentence. 

“Don’t.” I snarled, and he pulled his lips inside his mouth. He found the whole thing amusing, laughing as I pushed past him.

I grabbed my towel from the ground, as even the old ladies held back on their little jabs. 

The sun was setting, and I held the towel in front of me. My hair was heavy, sticking to my shivering skin. The material stuck tightly to my breasts, riding up on my backside with each steps. I quickly made my way across the green grass towards the parking lot to get somewhat more... decent. 

I thanked the gods that not many had seen the whole thing. I felt out of control and I hated it… But what I really hated?

Him, picking up on my frustration.

Price leaning against a table, arms crossed, muscular legs bent at the knee as his ass rested on the table. I refused to look at him, clutching my towel closer to my chest. I could tell he was enjoying the situation, a little smirk tugging on his lips as he flexed his unfairly big arms. 

He just had to speak. 

“Pleasant swim?” A deep voice came just before I could pass him. I felt his blues on me, his gaze warming my dripping skin. 

“Not even close, sir.” I scoffed, not raising my eyes from the ground and walked off, Omen dashing after me. 

And still. He had a fucking smirk on his face. Like he enjoyed seeing me out of control. 

Ugh, he vexed me. 

– – – – – – – – 

I sat at the diner alone. Johnny and Garrick were late, and Rosa was nowhere to be found either. I checked my phone again -- no messages, but I didn’t mind. They had normal jobs, I did not expect them to always be available. I was planning my night ritual at the woods anyway – it was the August full moon finally! 

I loved those… It was always near my birthday, so I usually mixed elements of multiple rituals together – cleansing, manifesting and intention setting. I jotted down snippets of spells, drawing little pictures of an altar I had in my head. 

I was so deep in thoughts I almost pushed my coffee all over the heavy pages as Rosa slammed down across me. 

“Did you hear?” she asked immediately and even Molly stopped in her track beside our table.  

“Whatever it is, it got you extremely excited.” I sighed and closed my journal, placing my pen down. 

“They’ve found a body in the woods!” she said and both me and Molly yelped at the same time.

“What?” 

“Yes!” Rosa beamed, and I wasn’t sure if that was an appropriate response to a body being found in the woods. “Apparently, a body has been discovered early in the morning – Kyle had to leave at like 4 AM – and then it was in the news!” 

“But so… Is it in the woods of Briar Hollow? Or why did he leave so early?" I blinked not really understanding the connection. 

“Well, you know Briar Hollow is a pretty small town, but the woods around it are huge… Price and the boys left early to drive to the crime scene further to the North – at least that’s what Kyle’d told me.” Rosa explained. I leaned back in my booth.

Briar Hollow was so peaceful, I never would have imagined something like that happening here… But again, the body must have been somewhere far away if they had to leave that abruptly and that early, right?  

“I see…” I drank my coffee as Molly bit her lips. 

“So, was it a murder?” she asked and we both looked at her. It didn’t even occur to us that there would be murders around here. Rosa blinked slowly.

“I… I actually don’t know… But it’s probably gonna be in the local news tonight…” she brought her mug to her lips. “It’s probably just a missing hiker finally found... Worst case scenario, an animal attack.”

“Yeah, well, so much for my parents letting me drive myself to the next town for a party.” Molly sighed and she walked off, and Rosa chuckled. 

“Is this really serious?” I asked but before she could answer the diner’s door opened, little bells warning of new arrival. 

Rosa’s lips twitch, “Guess, we’re about to find out.” 

Johnny and Kyle walked in – Johnny covered in dirt as if he had fallen, and Kyle boots were dusty, some plants sticking to his work pants. Officer Riley seemed unreadable, he was silent as always but he seemed just a bit more lethargic… And sleepy, so when he threw himself in the booth, he pulled his hat into his face immediately, crossing his arms already dozing off. And then he walked in. 

Sheriff Price.  

All broody, heavy weights on his shoulders. He didn’t even talk at first, just took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. His sleeves were pushed to his elbow, badge on his waist, his long legs moving with slow deliberate steps as if not wanting to waste any energy. He shared a few words with an older waitress and then he joined his men at the booth. 

They were oddly quiet, tired. Heavy circles under their eyes, something heavy in their aura… 

I glanced at Rosa, her brows drew together. 

“Go, talk to Kyle.” I said as I grabbed my bag. “I have to go anyway.” 

Rosa looked at me, and softly nodded. I swept everything into my bag, and grabbed my paper cup. The four men were deep in conversation as the waitress poured them coffee.

We walked over to the booth – it was on my way out, and Johnny and Kyle actually smiled as they saw us, but their conversation died down. 

“Ah, I didn’t know you were here.” Kyle was already getting up, leaned down to his wife to press a kiss to her temple. I just wanted to walk off, but words fell from my lips before I could stop them.

“You look like hell, Johnny.” I said surprised and a tired smile spread on his lips. I blinked at him as I stood a few steps away from them, to the side.

“Yeah, I feel like it too, I need my missus.” His big body was already moving towards me, spreading his arms to hug me and I plastered my hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Nu-uh, not when you’re this dirty.” The word 'missus' didn’t even faze me anymore. I looked up into his puppy eyes, but I caught Officer Riley peeking from underneath his hat from the table. “What happened to you anyway?” I dusted his shoulders off, some leaves stuck to him. 

“Fell.” he sighed and I laughed. 

“Then sit down then, jeez… And get a bit of coffee.” I said to him as I glanced at my watch. “I have to go, talk to you later?” I mumbled to him as the others were already in another conversation.

“Probably gonna work late, but uh, lunch tomorrow?” he rubbed the back of his neck and I smiled at him. 

“That works.” tilting my head to catch his gaze. I’ve never really seen Johnny stressed, but that early afternoon, there was something tense about him. Tense about all of them. I felt eyes on us – it burned… Then that deep voice followed.

“Ms. Barlow.” He was serious again. Johnny and I both turned, his face stern, brows pulled together, jaw set tight. 

“Yes, Sheriff?” I looked at him surprised. God… He looked positively troubled too… 

“Keep out of the woods for a while.” It wasn’t eve a suggestion. It was an order. I rolled my eyes as I looked past Johnny to catch his eyes. 

“Sure,” I sighed but his deep blue eyes darkened in shade. No teasing, no playfulness… Just very controlling. 

“I’m serious.” his voice echoed in my chest, actually making me jump a little, and Johnny tensed. I could not look away from those stormy blues eyes. 

“I’m always taking you seriously, Sheriff.” I said, but let a small smile slip on my lips. Now, that might not have been the smartest decision, because instead of deescalating the situation, it seemed that my actions ticked him off. But before he could howl at me, I turned back to a slightly worried Johnny. 

“Gotta run,” ignoring the tension I inadvertently created. “And I’m serious, get some rest… or coffee.” I patted Johnny’s chest and I spun on my heels.

The diner was so taut and dark… It almost felt good as my cowboy boots reached the pavement outside. It was scorching hot and sunny, yet the uniformed men who sat at the diner brought something back with themselves from the woods. Something very unsettling. 

I spent the remainder of my day working – on the grimoire, on my spell book (I spent a good amount of time on the  ‘Urban Dictionary site’ trying to place together how this cuffing season worked), I also prepared the orders for Lindy at the Wicca store. 

Needless to say, I was dead tired by the time I curled up on my couch that evening. 

Tea cooled, untouched on the coffee table, Tarot cards spread lazily, Omen lounging under my arms as I stared at the TV. 

It was an older piece, but it was good enough to watch brain-rotting series with names my mind was too tired to process. My eyelids grew heavy, my head was too hard to keep up.

I blinked softly as he TV flickered between infomercials and local news until the screen bled blue and red.

“... the murders are being investigated– police confirmed multiple bodies, and suspect– it’s advised to… until further notice–” 

I kept dozing off, not the news, nor the series were making any sense anymore.

Darkness swallowed my body.

It was a restless sleep. 

Cold closing me in his icy arms, aches all over my body, turning and throwing myself around, bumping into solid parts what I assumed was my couch. 

And that wet, cold feeling underneath my feet… 

I gasped, and my eyes snapped open. 

As I came to my senses my eyes widened. 

My knees buckled, hands planting between the wet leaves and twigs. Something nicked my hand, I hissed in pain. 

My chest rose and fell heavily, I looked around. 

Nothing seemed familiar. Dark, tall trees in every direction, no road whatsoever, just the wood laying out infinitely. The smell of the wet grounds and decaying plants slipped my nostrils. Some faint scent of berries mixed into the cold air.

Everything was oddly quiet, only my heavy breathing and the rustling between the branches disturbed the silence. The moonlight slipped between the still heavy greens, casting faint blue light over the ground. I looked down at my hands, my hair fell to the front as I pushed myself up. 

My feet – bare, stood on the cold forest floor. I crossed my arms, shiver dashing down my spine.

I was deep in the woods, no indication of civilization anywhere near. So, I just started to walk towards where my instincts told me so. It felt so wrong to be walking that loudly, but no matter how hard I tried, my bare feet always found a twig, or crunched dried leaves. 

My body was shaking – maybe because of the cold, or maybe because of the dread, not knowing how I ended up outside, in an utterly unfamiliar territory. 

But what was worse? 

I felt watched. 

Shiver licked the base of my neck, as I leaned on a big tree trunk for support.

I wouldn’t have minded some guiding whispers at that moment… 

Panic crept up my throat but I forced myself to walk further, not caring how much my legs were getting scratched or my delicate night gown tore. I had to continue… I had to keep going. I was stuck in my head completely, failing to notice steps getting closer to me. 

I wanted to step over a tree trunk but my feet slipped, and I fell to my knees. The thin material of my nightgown slipped off my shoulder. It was definitely not the outfit one wanted to explore the woods in. 

I got up and continued to walk (well, more like stumble), trying to guess the direction of Briar Hollow based on the moon’s route. I wasn’t that good at navigation… Not even with a map and a proper compass… 

My breathing shuddered and I leaned against a tree. 

What the hell was going on? I tried to rub my eyes, but everything felt too real to be a dream… Why… How? The words echoed in my busy mind.

Then I felt it.

A breath on my neck. 

I screamed like never before and I felt big hands grab my arms and get yanked. 

“Ms Barlow!” he raised his voice, his flashlight fell to the wet ground as he was towering above me. My eyes snapped to the familiar face. “Haven’t you heard me call after you?” 

“Sh-Sheriff…” my eyes widened, lips parted as I looked up at the furious man. 

“What the hell are you doing?” his voice was strained with fury. “I told you not to go into the woods! Do you think this is a joke?” His grip was too tight. I was confused, not comprehending how he just appeared out of nowhere. My breathing grew ragged, as his words, his volume reached me.

I pulled back, pushing his hands off of me confused.

“I could ask the same questions! What are you doing here?” I looked up at him as the moon slipped from behind the heavy coat of clouds. Light blue light whispered softly against our cheeks. 

His blue eyes were burning with dark fury. My mouth dried as I watched his tall, big body in front of me. He looked dangerous… Hell, he was dangerous.

“I’m patrolling,” he snarled, “trying to keep noisy teens out of the woods.” he glared as he let out a frustrated sigh. “And apparently unstable women, as well.” he waved his hand towards me in a disappointed manner. 

My eyes narrowed, my jaw ticked. 

“I’m not unstable!” I retorted and his furious blue eyes snapped to me as he grabbed the flashlight from the ground. 

“The hell you’re not! You’re wandering the woods past midnight, in whatever ritualistic clothes that is,” he glared at me, waving his arm towards my dress... I glanced down, following his heavy gaze. The material became rather see-through as the moonlight sneakily exposed me from behind. I crossed my arms in front of my chest immediately, turning red in the darkness as he was still going off on me. “And you are here, when I specifically told you not to be! The woods are prohibited to civilians until the department has declared them to be safe again.” He got all up in my face, prompting me to tilt my head back to keep the eye contact. 

“I didn't know it was prohibited to enter.” I gritted my teeth, my fist clenched.

“I told you at the diner not to come here!” he raised his voice, my face snapped towards him.

“I know!” I shouted back at him, my voice echoing in the dark, empty woods. 

Silence fell between us. It was deafening. 

 My heavy breathing broke the soft silence. He just stared at me, and I swallowed hard. His stormy blue eyes were not moving. They were set on my eyes, his brows drawn together, as if thinking about what to do with me. 

 “I’m going home.” I blinked away the eye contact, my eyes finally setting on a dirt road I failed to notice in the complete darkness. I wanted to walk past him, but he shook his head and pushed me back by my shoulder. 

“You are not walking 5 miles like this…” he spat and I looked up at him surprised. I blinked. 

5 miles? 

“I’m driving you home.” he said seriously, his deep voice tired and my jaw clenched. 

“No, I can walk,” my voice was steady. Eyes serious. 

So stubborn. – a meek whisper passed in the wind. Oh! Now they wanted to talk! 

“You are bare foot! Hardly even have clothes on!” his jaw ticked as his eyes became darker if that was even possible. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” 

“It does, since you’ve decided to move into my town!” 

“I don't give a shit about your ego problems, Sheriff. I’m going!” I said as it was final, ready to flee, but he grabbed me, iron fist closing around my upper arm as a gasp slipped my lips. 

“Fine!” he yanked me back. “Then I’ll just arrest you.” he growled as my back was pushed back against a tree. I gaped at him, lashes fluttering.

“You can’t arrest me! I did nothing wrong.” I raised my voice, panic slipping between the words, but he manhandled me! Grabbing my waist, moving me easily, pushing me up against the tree – the trunk cut heavily into my chest. I hissed as his heavy hands burned the skin on my waist, he grabbed my arms and twisted them behind me. 

“Oh, really?” his body pushed up against mine as I tried to squirm away from him. I whined as his chest pressed against my back. His body heat chasing away the evening’s icy touches. My eyes widened as I heard his cuffs clicking. 

“Sheriff! What–” they locked tightly around my wrist and he grabbed and turned me again. The air was pushed from my lungs as I stared up at him. 

“Seraphina Barlow, I’m arresting you for public indecency–" 

“Public inde– We are in the woods!” my eyes glared daggers at him.

“You are practically naked.” 

“You wish.” I spat and he actually scoffed, smirk tugging at his lip. 

“Get your ass moving.” He looked past my head into the darkness, pulled me from the tree’s body. I stumbled like a child, legs and feet aching, trembling against the cold ground.

“What the fuck, Price!” I snapped at him as I almost fell. Air stuck in my throat, eyes opening wide once again as he hauled me back, leaned close into my face. His eyes were full of warning. 

A beat of silence passed.

“It’s Sheriff Price or sir to you, Ms. Barlow.” he snarled, voice coming out low as if growling.

My nostrils flared in an angry attempt, green eyes glaring at him as the moon hid behind the heavy clouds over again. I was ready to hex his entire bloodline into oblivion. 

“You can’t do this.” I breathed. And I swear, he was enjoying the situation too much…

“I already did.” He grabbed my arm tight, and yanked me to walk.

 Oof, that was surely leaving a mark… 

I stumbled ahead on the cold ground, him tailing behind me, heavy steps barely making any noise...

I refused to look at him. I was fuming, stumbling in the dark, shivering under the thin material of my nightgown… 

And I must have moved too slowly for his liking, because I heard him shuffle and curse.

“For fuck sake.” I felt a heavy coat on my shoulders, then before I could retort, he reached down and I found myself over his shoulder. 

“Put me down!” I shrieked. It was utterly uncomfortable, dangling down on his wide back, hips resting on his big shoulders. The cuffs dug deeper into my skin as I tried to wriggle free from his grip. 

“Stop moving around.” he barked and his fingers dug into my waist. I winced, cursing him in my head, fucking hell, agressive neaderhalt.  

 “What gave you the bright idea to explore the woods dressed like this?” 

“None of your business.” I mumbled into his coat, closing my eyes. 

“Stupid girl.” he scoffed and after that, I refused to talk. 

I was red in the face. Complete and total humiliation. 

In the middle of the night, being a young adult, dangling off the town’s highly respected sheriff’s shoulder… What a life! My mother would have been so proud of me… 

He pushed me to the back of his cruiser, and I sat there in complete silence as he pulled the belt around me. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him, and he just scoffed, shutting the door on me.

His coat was warm, smelled like him… His cologne on the collar of his jacket made my stomach flutter.

He smelled nice… 

“No. Shut up. Seraphina!” I yelled at myself in my mind. “You are hexing this man. Putting him in the back of your freezer the moment you get a picture of him! You’ll put him in a jar with nails and pour generous amounts of chili pepper over his name!”  

The drive back to the town was 15 minutes… Which meant I walked a lot. 

Which also meant, I lost quite a lot of time... 

My naked feet touched the sticky linoleum of the police station. Neon lights flickered, my hair stuck under his heavy coat which seemed ridiculously big on me. 

And so, there I stood, the town’s newest crazy lady, dishevelled, dirty, barely dressed, being dragged by the sheriff towards a holding cell as the widening eyes of my friends blinked at me. 

Price guided me down a set of stairs, through a door and the bars. He stopped me, then after a bit of shuffling, I heard the click.

I felt his warm touch on my hands, and excited little bugs started to flutter in my stomach. The cuffs were off and I pulled my hands to the front, massaging my wrists… There were dark red and purple marks circling the delicate skin. Little dots bled where the skin broke.

I felt his presence disappear, and he slammed the door shut. He left without a word. He also left his coat on me. I glanced back behind my shoulder. The room was badly lit but clean. 

And I was utterly alone.

 I collapsed on the bench in the room. It was cold, dark, neon lights flickering and humming low, hurting my eyes. 

I looked down at my dirty feet… There were many cuts and bruises on my legs, dirt under my fingernails. My crispy white nightgown now dirty, green and gray patches, little holes and tears decorating the once delicate material. 

I looked like a mutt. 

Heavy breath shuddered out of my lips. 

Let my body fell to the side, laying on the uncomfortable bench. My eyes closed and a weak sigh slipped my lips.

What the hell happened? 

How did it all go wrong – again? 

And the sheriff? 

He actually arrested me.

Who would have guessed… 

Hi there, :) Thank you so so much for reading. Also, thank you for your support and kind words. Bear hugs and kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 8]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: drunk/tipsy, cemetery, allusion of mental illness, reckless behaviour, my usual cursing, questionable morals, age gap i'm slowly loosing my mind, i wanted a more fun episode. still slow burn, angsty i guess, a bit of sadness but mostly sarcasm hehe enjoy :)

The Witch Is Back

I did not leave the house on Sunday.

 No church, no coffee with Rosa after mass, no farmers market flowers or fresh peaches.

I stayed in bed longer than I wanted. Sometime the night before, I had dragged myself upstairs, shed my dress, pulled on my oversized white shirt, and collapsed between the sheets.

Omen was right beside me, pushing himself under my arms, not letting me close him out. His purrs were calming, his green eyes searched for mines as if he knew something had broken. And he refused to leave. 

In the morning, he sat on my counter, watching me drink my coffee while I turned salmon in his assigned pan. He was watching me place the meat on a gold brimmed side plate. With a little fork I shredded the pinkish, coral colored meat, and placed it in front of Omen. 

I looked at him as I sipped my coffee. He glanced at his breakfast then looked up at me. 

“What it is, lovie?” I smiled at him, my voice was raspy. My eyes and cheeks were heavy, skin puffed. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna hiss at me today.” holding my mug in both hands.

But Omen just got up and pushed his plate towards me with his little nose. He meowed and I blinked at him. I chuckled and placed the mug down. I leaned down and cupped his little face. 

“Thank you, dove, but you know I don’t eat meat.” I cooed and he looked so done with me. He purred as I rubbed his chin, bearing his little canines. I patted his head, and left him to his meal. 

That day I decided to cleanse and clean everything. 

It was a rainy day, the kind that makes the trees creak and the wind chimes talk to themselves. I cleaned – changed sheets, replaced the eucalyptus in the bathroom; I also saged the whole house – to Omen’s dismay. He glared at me as I moved. His tail switched but still followed me around the house – always just outside the smoke.

The cold lingered. I drank tea but didn’t eat. I took a cleansing bath instead, hair soaking in milky water strewn with rose petals, lavender buds, rosemary. Omen curled beside the candles like something out of a Greek painting. 

As the sun set and the violent summer storm rolled in with full force I walked down the stairs. A loose dark red negligee floated around me like mist. Omen slipped between my feet. His movement was seamless, unbothered, like he trusted the rhythm of us.

The spine of my leather grimoire cracked softly as I opened it. The thick pages whispered as I turned them. My eyes calmly scanned the names of the spells.

The rug laid to the to the side as I added runes to the already drawn pentagram. The rhythmic taps of the chalk was almost hypnotic. My hand moved instinctively, out of muscle memory. A bigger outer circle followed, enclosing the star and the runes in one continuous motion. When it was done, I exhaled. 

I dusted my hands off, and stood up to light candles and place them to their assigned points, adding crystals and sunflower heads  as I murmured invocations. Omen sat like a guardian at the edge of my fireplace. 

I lit the candles one by one. 

“Golds for the crown I never took off.” my voice filled the room as the storm shook my windows. I placed one, then the other.

“Orange for the laughter that echoes when I enter the room.” moved around the circle slowly. 

“Yellow, to remind the sun I am its favorite daughter.” placed it to the fourth peak.

“Red – not for war, but for the joy of playing with fire.” put down the last candle. 

My night dress moved gently, soft fabric brushing against my skin. My naked feet stepped inside the circle. Power simmered in my blood as I drew a deep, steady breath. Lowered myself in the middle, one hand on my chest and another on my belly. 

I was the daughter of August, and I felt the shift that day. I was slowly pulling back my energy, forgetting and forgetting about all the bad. 

I’d already wrote a letter: forgive and forget. I’d burned that, releasing whatever negativity I was holding onto. 

But in the circle, I was more focused on myself. The card, the Queen of Wands, jumped out that evening during my shuffle – I felt it in my bones. 

It was time to reclaim my power. 

– – – – – – – 

 I was dressed, what people call, trouble. 

A black loose dress, too big, swallowing my body, only to be cinched by a corset, creating the illusion of a slutty waist, big loose sleeves falling off the shoulder, exposing my shoulders, collarbones and a very questionable decolletage. 

The thin fabric of the dress danced around my ankles, one leg cheekily slipping out through the slip, exposing my tanned leg. Henna twines were running around the top of my foot, ankle bracelets gently chiming as if of a dancer’s. 

I walked barefoot down Main Street, Omen weaving between my ankles without making me stumble. He grew a bit territorial ever since Saturday. 

My eyes were covered by my sunglasses, soft gaze locked on my little shopping list – call me old fashioned, I preferred paper over my phone. It looked more witchy anyway. Also, like, just imagine, pushing your little list on the table in front of a rugged farmer, pointing with your delicate finger on an item, long red nails tapping softly. 

“Do you have this today?” I asked, voice like honey, tilting my head, pointing at rhubarb. The man gulped as his eyes met my jade ones. I smiled softly as the man stuttered. 

“I’m uh, I’m gonna check it for ya’ Ms. Barlow.” the man tipped his hat, disappearing into the back of his stand. 

I played with the displayed flowers – sunflowers, my favourites. I gently touched the petals, then collected a bunch, placed it on the counter as the man came back. 

Oh, I was flirty, not over the top, no, I just let those quiet, immediate thoughts of mine out – it’s not my fault that they were flirty. The man was all red as I paid, thanking them immensely. 

I turned, caught a glimpse of a few ladies, talking to a woman who was selling bee wax candles and honey. 

They were most definitely conspiring – I wasn’t stupid. They saw what I already knew: men turning their heads as I passed, a boy nearly stepping into a bucket of roses just to look back at me. And I knew, without needing to see it, that the sheriff was watching too. Garrick stood beside him, looking faintly concerned.

I smiled wide and let my hips sway, my jewelry chiming softly, before I made my way toward the town’s reigning Karens.

“Good morning, ladies.” I met their eyes one by one, my smile warm, my voice sweet. They mumbled their obligatory replies.

I almost kept walking. Almost.

“Oh, Ms. Bishop! I nearly forgot.” I turned back, my face wide-eyed and innocent. A few heads in the market swiveled toward us.

“Yes?” She tried to sound casual.

“Please, tell Richard I’m so grateful for his help this morning. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.” I said softly, leaving things oddly ambiguous as the ladies' eyes widened.

Her brows lifted sharply as if asking who am I to call her husband by his first name. “Richard?”

“Yes!” I beamed. “He was so sweet, helped me load my groceries. Ooh – and he said he loved my cherry pies.” I added innocently, biting my lips as I tried to keep my giggles in. I felt the tension rise at the market. 

“How would he know?” the older woman asked, her voice dry as parchment.

I tilted my head, all soft curiosity. “Well, of course from the charity event. I’ll jot the recipe down for you – bring it to church on Sunday.”

“How kind,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t mention it. Blessed be.”

I spun away, knowing damn well I’d just poked the wasps’ nest. They lived for their polished veneers – always polite in public, always whispering in private. I thrived on the fact that their hatred was eating them alive.

And across the square, the sheriff’s disapproving gaze pinned me in place. Shoulders tense, arms folded, jaw set. I smiled at him, lifted my chin, and walked away with Omen padding at my heels

The next few days, I wreaked havoc. The church ladies were on high alert, but I was nothing but sweet.

I suspected some folks had overheard what the sheriff told me – not that I cared. I was far too busy minding my own business, smiling at every soul who crossed my path. If men were so gullible they mistook kindness for flirting, that was their problem, not mine.

Still… something was off that week. I could feel eyes on me. In a town this small, avoiding John Price was apparently impossible. He was everywhere. Eventually, I stopped fighting fate.

Read tarot with some teen girls at the library garden? – Sheriff Price drove by with Officer Garrick. Flirted with some boys who were “too young” for me – he was there, across the street, stepping out of a building. Grabbed coffee with Jed? – he most definitely patrolled the street on foot with Officer Riley. 

And so I smiled. Always pleasant and saying hi with a big smile. 

He seemed almost confused. Almost annoyed. Always so tense.

I was at the diner with Rosa. She asked me if I was alright – she was most definitely referring to the Saturday events. I was pretty sure Johnny saw my face leaving that alleyway, and though I loved him, he had a big mouth… He probably told Garrick, who told Rosa, and god knows how many more people knew about it… 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked as I poured some cinnamon on top of my coffee. 

Cinnamon for good fortune…

My spoon stopped mid-stir in my drink and I blinked. Whispers, always just almost there, yet out of reach. I started to feel like going crazy. 

“Seraphina?” my eyes snapped to Rosa. “Are you okay?” 

“Hm, yes, yes, I’m fine.” I smiled immediately, shaking away the thoughts. 

“Anyway, we were thinking about going to the lake, maybe next week, if you’d like to join.” Rosa offered and I just listened. “It’s like a little town picnic if you will.” 

“You guys are big on this community building thing.” I giggled. 

“We gotta be. This is a nice town, Phina. But it is hard work to build good relationships.” Rosa said her head tilting and I smiled glancing at my watch. 

“I agree, Rosa… Oh, forgive me… I have some relationship building to do.” I said as I grabbed the bouquet I bought – one of the ladies at the market had the most beautiful wild flowers I’ve ever seen – and my bag.

“With who? The Simmons boy?” She looked at me amused. 

“Huh, maybe.” I huffed and pushed the straps of my bag on my shoulder. My off-the shoulder top hugged my chest tightly, my wide legged pants sat low on my hip, let’s not even mention my belly beads following my swaying hips. 

Rosa laughed, shaking her head as I was already walking off. “You are pouring oil onto fire, Seraphina!” she called after me, her deep brown eyes holding a bit of worry. 

“Me? Would never.” I giggled and pushed the diner’s door out, saying bye.

Coffee in hand, glasses perched on top of my head, my very teasing, flowy outfit on point. 

Then I gasped. 

And promptly walked into someone solid.

Large hands caught me before I could spill, steadying me.

My gaze snapped up to stormy blue – half-shadowed under the brim of his hat.

I smiled slowly

“Ah, forgive me, Sheriff.” I breathed out.  “Well, look at that – fate’s got a sense of humor.” I giggled as I gained back my balance and straightened up, tilted my chin up at him as he drew his brow together. 

“What are you doing?” The question was low, rough. His voice always sent shivers down my spine.

“Running errands, sir,” I said, blinking innocently. His stare was heavy, and I refused to flinch under it. Instead, I glanced up at the clock tower as though bored. “Ah, and I’m running late. Promised Jed I’d drop by–” 

Before I could slip past, his hand tightened on my upper arm.

The grip was firm, almost… possessive. A little too firm.

Ouch. 

“I thought we had a conversation about this,” he said, voice darker now, pulling me a fraction closer. My pulse jumped – not that I’d let him see it. My throat dried, yet I stepped closer on purpose, so close I could see the muscle ticking in his bearded jaw.

I tilted my head back, lips tugging upwards.

 “Careful with the hand placement, sir… You don’t want people saying you bed me, now do ya’...” I smirked, but my eyes were serious. As if daring him to say something he’d said at the charity event.  

His nostrils flared; his lips pressed into a tight, furious line.

I felt his restraint – heavy, hot, fraying. Could not decide though if it was because he hated me so much… Or because I managed to get him to feel something he did not want to deal with. 

I slipped my arm free. “Didn’t think so.” sharp smile on my lips. 

Then I turned, hips swaying like smoke, coffee in hand, Omen trotting after me. Behind me, I could feel his eyes burn between my shoulder blades.

 Big bad sheriff, cornered and silenced.

I huffed, but  walked down the street shaking my head. He hurt me that night… I wasn’t exactly sure why he was like that. Why did he always want to humble me… I don’t even know what to call that really. And I was confused, still a little sore from his words, but that felt good. 

The look in the Sheriff’s eyes! God. What a sight… And his touch. His big hands wrapped around my arm, heavy, strong, burning almost, and the faint press of his thumb – too intentional to be polite, too quick to let me read more into it. 

I slowed down a few corners away, throwing my empty cup in a bin. Omen jumped on the bench beside me. His big green eyes rested on me, blinking lazily. 

“Don’t look at me like that…” I mumbled, he tilted his head. “Like that, exactly. Don’t judge me, Omen… I’m… Whatever.” I sighed and shook my head. 

I wasn’t exactly a bad person… I wouldn't say that. I was eccentric, sure. Maybe a little hurt as well, but I wanted to cause no harm. A bit of vengeance, yes. Permanent damage, not exactly.

The wind changed, pushing my long locks around my face. The faint smell of cinnamon lingered in the air, and my fingers twitched. I had to do something about those… intrusive thoughts. 

A small, panicked cry snapped me out of it.

Little girl, tangled in her bicycle, her face blotchy from crying.

Now, I might have been a bitch, flirting with married men as if it was like breathing. But I was ain’t no monster… 

I quickened my steps. 

“Oh, lovie…” placed my flowers down on the ground, throwing my bag next to it. I carefully reached under her arms, pulling her up. “Are you hurt, baby?” I smiled into her bloodshot eyes, and I took a quick glance down on her.

She sniffled, sobbing again as she pointed at her knee. 

“Oh, no, look at you! What are these tears for?” I cupped her face gently, smiling at her, catching her light blue eyes. “Just a little scar, lovie, does it hurt?” 

“No?” she hiccuped and I smiled. 

“No? It was just scary, right? To fall. But look at you, you stood up. Are you gonna get back on it?”

“Uh-huh.” she mumbled as I brushed the tears of her soft cheeks. 

“You do?” I chuckled. “Brave girl, you are, dove.” I got up and gently dusted her skirt off. I also pulled her bike up. I caught her glancing at the colorful bouquet on the ground and I chuckled. 

“You like them?” I asked and her little face turned to me. 

“They are pretty.” she said shyly and I grinned. I leaned down and pulled a soft, pale pink flower from the bunch. “Here you go, love. You deserve it.” 

Her face was still wet from the crocodile tears, yet her lips pulled into one of those big smiles, only children can give you. I smiled at her and gently touched her face. 

“Tell your mama you fell, okay? Show her your knees.” 

“Okay.” she nodded, placing the little flower into her basket – where a soft bunny plush resided already. 

She slowly turned the bike and turned back, giving me a little wave and warm joy filled my cold chest. I waved back to her as I watched her bike off, a little wobbly, but she managed. 

“That was very nice of you.” A shiver ran down my spine and I almost screamed. 

“Jesus, Johnny.” I snapped my head to his big form. I sighed and straightened up. “How can you sneak up on people like that?” 

“Talent.” he shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Right.” I scoffed and grabbed my stuff from the ground – bag a little heavier, since Omen decided he was too important to walk. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Phiny…” he said and I glanced at him as he bit his lip. “Listen, about Saturday.” His blue eyes studied me with that sad glint, as if he was the one feeling guilty for whatever happened.

“Nothing happened on Saturday, Johnny.” I said softly and I scratched Omen’s head as he pushed it over the edge of my bag. I changed the topic quickly. “Lunch tomorrow at the diner?” I asked with a small smile. 

“Sure thing, Phiny.” he said a bit wary, not really liking the wall I pulled up around myself. I tilted my head and smiled at him.

“Bye, Johnny. Safe work” I waved and walked off.

– – – – – – – 

“... if you don't know what kind of cologne your man wears (if any) just get one that is similar to his scent. Or anything with pine in it. Most men don’t use cologne anyway, they just head to the convenient store and once they find the Old Spice racks, they just pick the one that says ‘screaming-raging masculinity’. Don’t be shy, by any mean, lovie, that man who stomped over you deserves to be put in the freezer for a while.”

“Hell, Seraphina,” the woman across the screen pulled her glasses off after finishing the passage, ”if anything you just ignited your spark.” Samantha laughed on the facetime call as I sat with knees pulled to my chest. “Here I thought you’d turn into a small town granny, only writing about pie recipes and cleansing spells, but this is good. Gold.” 

I grunted, placing down the original parchment on my work desk. We’ve been going through the drafts I sent her over and she’s been delighted. I felt a little guilty. 

“Don’t you think it is too much?” 

“Too much? It’s quintessentially a binding spell with spice, darling, you’re not telling  anybody to stab their ex.” Samantha leaned back in her shiny, white office. She shuffled around some papers as she chuckled, but then her eyes settled on me. “Don’t you start doubting yourself now, darling. This,” she raised the stack of papers – the printed versions of the spells I’d send over. “This is gold. I showed them to the girls at the office, and they loved them. Hell, they even tried them, and swore to heaven and back that your spells worked.” 

Well, of course it works, it’s in the Barlow blood. 

The whisper came, and my head jerked to the side, closed my eyes to push the thought away. 

“You good?” Samantha asked from behind her glasses. 

“Sure, just slept on my neck.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “When do you need the next 50 pages?” 

“Don’t exert yourself, darling, this is roughly 150 pages already.” she bit on her pen. 

“Well, I was inspired.” 

“I can tell.” she grinned, then she leaped ahead with a curious glint in her eyes, her perfectly blown out blonde hair following her. “Is there a man in the picture?” 

“Samantha…” I grunted again, tried to sunk into my plushy armchair. 

“I’m sure it is, bless him, for whatever he is doing.” she giggled. I raised my brow. I sent her roughly 38 pages of how to bind, hex, curse your ex or a man who hurt your feelings, I wasn't sure that was the appropriate response. 

“There is no man, Sam.” 

“Whatever you’re saying. There is no shame in letting your feelings guide you sometimes, Phina.” she said with a little chuckle. “We were worried about back in the spring... You were a bit cool if you ask me.” 

“I just needed some change.” I sighed. “Any other requests?"

“No darling, you’re doing great.” Samantha clicked on something on her laptop. “How about we touch base again in a month? Umm… Oh! Before I forget – the board moved your publishing date to December 1st.”

My jaw dropped. “December first?!”

“You know, they did the math,” she shrugged, casual as a cat, “Halloween is a goldmine, yes, but many get desperate around Christmas. They want seasonal content. ‘Cuffing season chic,’ as they put it.”

“I beg your finest pardon?” I leaned forward a little.

“You know... a little mistletoe glamour, a ‘bring me a man under my tree’ charm, maybe something for the New Year’s kiss drought? People are lonely, darling.”

“You want me to write spells to serve the biggest scam of a festivity of capitalism?

“You love love spells, darling, what’s the harm in timing them, creating for the seasonal aesthetic?” she  asked and my jaw, clenched. 

“Sure, Sam. Let’s see, how does this sound... ‘Summon Your New Boyfriend: Delivered by Satan Himself.’ To get your Big Boy on the porch, just combine three ounces of pig’s blood, twenty-one grams of your soul, and your definitely intact sanity.” I rolled my eyes

She laughed, loud and wheezy. “God, I love you. Just keep the energy fun, playful, light-hearted hexes for the festive soul.”

“Sure, whatever. But if a 50-year-old man in publishing renames one of my spells to ‘Bake Me a Man I Can Serve’, I’m setting this contract on fire and mailing the ashes.”

“Dully noted, darling.” She giggled, then paused. “You’re not actually… considering blood magic, right?”

“You tell me.” I tilted my head with a soft smile. She laughed nervously, but then shook her hair, soft blonde locks falling. 

We said goodbye and I leaned back, staring at the blank spot on the ceiling where the paint had peeled into something vaguely wing-shaped. Omen hopped into my lap, curling himself into a perfect, smug little crescent. His paws kneaded rhythmically against my thighs.

“Do you think I still have some wine left?” I asked him, scratching behind his ears. He blinked slowly – the kind of blink that felt like judgment.

Somewhere at the edge of my hearing, the whispers stirred again. I pushed myself from the chair.

– – – – – – – – – 

The ground was cold and wet underneath me. Brushed my hand over the dark green grass. The moon was dark orange, slowly rounding as the August full moon was sneaking up on us. 

I brushed my fingers over the carvings on the rock. Placed some candles on and beside it, laid a big bouquet of roses and wildflowers in front of the headstone. 

I sat back on my heels, as Omen guarded me silently. 

“I swear to God, Helena… I have no idea why you wanted me to move here.” I crunched her letter in my hands. 

After my call, I ended up drinking my red wine and sorting through some papers. The letter which started it all, the one her attorney gave me after the inheritance hearing slipped to the ground. 

I re-read it a thousand times, abandoning whatever I was doing. But I just could not make sense of it… 

“It’s a lovely town… You’d find yourself blooming in this environment.” I read the words aloud. Her black letters curled messily on the yellowish paper. 

“Bloom you say.” I scoffed, staring at the headstone as if it would talk back to me. “The only thing that’s blooming in my chest is a long list of curses… I have no idea what you wanted me to do… The house is still in shambles you know. Your garage… hell, what was the idea with that, Nana?” I chuckled, sighing. 

“I found your diaries, you know… Nice men, Nana, but I have yet to find a picture of grandpa...” I mumbled, brushing a tear away hastily. I gulped and after a second of silence I breathed out.

“Were you chastised too? Is it in our blood to be this goddamn controversial?” I leaned my back against the big willow tree laying over her grave. Dramatic, I was sure she’d arranged this a long time ago. “They call me names, you know… I shouldn’t care, but like it’s not that easy.” I chuckled. “I know you hexed some mean girls over calling you a tramp, but like, I don’t think I’m as strong as you were.” 

A gentle wisp moved along the tree lines, the dark green leaves moving in the darkness in the softest of whispers. I felt the breeze on my face as if it was a soft touch. 

“Whatever, really, I really did not come here to complain to you. I am just grateful, for you know, the new beginning. The house… Even if the porch is falling apart.” I chuckled, thinking about the lampshades I’ve been fighting with for weeks now. 

Jesus H. Christ… Was I truly this much of a goner? I’ve been hearing voices, whispers and now I was sitting at the empty cemetery, half drunk talking to my dead grandmother’s grave.

I rubbed my eyes, breath shuddering. Goddamnit… Should I get myself checked  out like my mother suggested… I knew I wasn't crazy, but sitting on the cold ground in one of my white gowns… I just felt the sudden urge to be ashamed. 

I heard Omen hiss, I gasped as crunches of heavy footsteps came closer, noises suddenly filling the small cemetery. 

Don’t be scared… 

Another whisper.

“Shut up, Jesus." I pushed my fists to my eyes, breathing heavy and I stood, just as a strong light flashed onto me, blinding me completely. 

I squinted in the darkness, then I gasped as the light lowered. 

“Miss Barlow?” a deep voice, not exactly surprised as if he expected me to be there, but a bit of worry mixed into his gravel voice. 

“Ah, Sheriff.” I sniffled, straightening my back, leaning onto my nana’s headstone for stability. His blue eyes rested on me, heavy with concern as I yanked the sleeves of my night gown back to their place on my shoulder. “The Snitch Squad called again, didn't they.” I chuckled, placing my naked feet in front of the other tipsily.. 

There were these women in town… The ones whispering I was a devil worshipper and I wanted to seduce their husband and teenage sons. They liked reporting me to the sheriff for various reasons. 

“Ms. Barlow, you know the cemetery closes its gates after sunset… You’re not supposed to be here.” he was calm, but he talked more carefully to me. Yet, it was still very formal, distant… Cold. 

“Nowhere on the gates says so, I thought this was a free country, sir.” I mumbled. 

“Ms. Barlow…” he said carefully. I tilted my head, studying his features. My jaw clenched – pity sat in his eyes. He rubbed his neck and he took a step towards me. He sighed, as if giving up on my arrest, deciding I was weak, not worth the trouble. His eyes locked on mines. “Come on, you’re drunk… Let me drive you home.” 

“Don’t patronize me, Sheriff.” 

I stepped back, wobbling slightly, but I caught myself. Omen tensed at my feet. “And I drank.  I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not patronizing you, Ms. Barlow,” his eyes now took in my form. He noticed the thin material on me, pretty sure he placed it together that it was a night gown, scanned my heavily jewelled hands, and clocked my bare feet standing on the dark green, slightly damp grass. “Come on. It’s not safe in the dark.” he took a few steps towards me, tried to reach for me and I tensed up. 

“Don’t touch me!” I pulled back, wrapping my arms around me. 

His blue eyes snapped to my face, his lashes fluttered then hands went up. His voice softer. “Alright. I won’t. Just – take it easy.”

His voice, his demeanour. His big body was steady in the darkness, hands exposed to show he was harmless as if not to scare me off. And his voice…  Damn, his voice was so warm and kind when he addressed me. Nothing like his constant snarling. And I wondered, what did I do to earn his hatred. To get his rude side and not that peaceful, kind one he used on everyone else in town. 

It made me grit my teeth, my jaw tensed. 

“And don’t look at me like that, damn it.” My voice was shaky. 

“How am I looking at you?” he tilted his head, calm eyes studying me, but I could tell. He was reading the environment, looking for ways to catch me, to stop me from doing something stupid. 

“Like I’m a child; a stupid, naive child.” I snarled. 

“You’re not stupid, Ms. Barlow… but you seem just a little off tonight.” he tried phrasing it more carefully. 

I barked a laugh that had no humor in it. “Off? That’s a delicate word for ‘crazy.’”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. The flashlight beam dipped toward the ground.

Behind me, the willow branches stirred though there was no wind, a long sigh curling in the dark.

“Let me drive you home, Ms. Barlow,” he said quietly.

I took a step back into the shadow of the headstone, Omen brushing against my ankle like a silent warning. “I’ll manage, Sheriff.”

The moon slid out from behind a cloud, painting everything in copper – his badge, my bare feet, the golden words on Helena’s stone. My chest rose and fell rapidly, as his dark eyes were stuck on me. 

Silence sat between us. 

I gulped, and took a few more steps backward. 

Self-awareness was a blessing and a curse. Curse, most of the time... 

I settled a bit, the cold breeze sobering me enough just to realize how juvenile I was. 

There I stood in the cemetery, tipsy, after dark, arguing with a man, probably a decade my senior, who probably had more important things to do than to deescalate a crazy witch who had too much to drink… I felt utterly small, and humiliated under his gaze – although he was not looking down at me with his usual hatred, nor frustration. 

He seemed more… guilty. 

“Forgive me, Sheriff.” my voice was weak, mixing with the gentle breeze. “This won’t happen again.” 

“Ms. Barlow–” 

“I’ll get going. I am… I am really sorry.” I shook my head, heading towards the tree lines where I came from. “Sorry…” I said softly not meeting his eyes as his fists curled and I turned. 

The darkness swallowed my body, Omen and the copper moonlight guiding me down the little dirt road which led me to my estate.

I walked away from the graveyard, each step sinking slightly into the damp earth, Omen’s soft padding beside me the only sound besides the rustling leaves. The chill in the air prickled at my skin.

Sheriff Price’s eyes kept haunting me on my way home. They lingered, and there was something in them that I could not name. But the way he talked to me… Maybe he wasn’t just the town’s cold enforcer after all…

I wiped the sting of tears from my cheeks, swallowed the bitter taste of wine and regret, and told myself that it was alright. What happened, happened… Could not change, nor erase it. 

Life was a little messy, but I did not feel like running anymore.

Not when that man was looking at me like that. 

Those tired, blue eyes hinting at something bigger. 

Whispers nudging me towards him and into madness. 

Yet, I wasn’t scared… 

Something was just getting started. And I felt ready for it.

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading! And thank you all for the patience. Next chapter is already brewing... Until then, many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 7]

sheriff price x witchy girl  warnings: sexualization, slut-shaming, cursing, mention of alcohol consumption, i guess sad Also, just a lil' heads up, I'm leaving for a family vacation, so I cannot promise you quick updates :(( But I have so many ideas brewing and set in motion... Anyway, enjoy... hehe

Bad Reputation

The day of the charity event the town buzzed. 

It only started later in the afternoon, so people do not fall victim to a heatstroke. Although, end of July has been just a little bit cooler, it was definitely the best decision to push the programs back, allowing candid moments under fairylights…

I helped Rosa set up the cake stand. She nearly fainted when she saw how much I baked. "This is too much, Phina," she sighed, even as she started arranging everything with manic precision. I'd dropped off a box of cookies at the town hall earlier that morning, just a little sugary treat to help her and her team survive the last-minute setup chaos. It seemed to have worked – her assistants were flying around, clipboard-wielding and smiling through the panic.

The town square looked beautiful. Rosa had some serious work hours invested in the event. Everything was perfectly arranged – chalk-drawn signs, checkered tablecloths fluttering in the breeze, strings of fairy lights coiled between the trees. There was a stage for live music already buzzing with sound checks, face-painting stations, a "witchy crafts" tent run by a group of high school girls in thrifted velvet cloaks, local food vendors, lemonade stands, and so many pies you’d think this town ran on sugar and good intentions.

It felt like a late summer fair you'd only see in Hallmark movies. Nostalgic in a way I couldn’t explain. Warm and glowing. Like something remembered.

After Rosa and I helped set up the cake stand, ladies took over, taking donations, selling cookies. Rosa ran off to take care of an ‘emergency’ near the lemonade stand, and I mingled. Since it was quite the chaos in the beginning, people queuing to buy beautiful pies, I decided to stay a bit. At one point, I even had the fortune of meeting the mayor – short, cheerful guy with a Monopoly-man mustache that twitched every time he laughed. Nice guy. But it was pretty clear Rosa and her team were the ones running the town. The man had his head between the clouds… 

Some older ladies had enough of me at the stand, quite literally pushing me out, telling me to go mingle. They’ve learned that I was painfully single, and so they said I should go find myself a husband. I guess, this is how it worked in small towns. 

Walk around in a soft velvet dress and a husband will scoop you up. 

Sure.

The sun was dipping behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestones, drenching the top of the church in orange hue. The fairy lights flickered to life one by one, and the air filled with the scent of fried dough, grilled corn, and just a hint of bonfire smoke. A band was playing on the stage, the typical sound of country music filled the air – a few even danced, little kids jumping to the lively music.

I walked around, dress swooshing around my ankles, the dark blue material hugged me just at the right places. Embroidered with beads, swirls, and constellations, the simple dress shimmered under the lights. I stacked my silver jewellery, leaving my golds at home, and I even abandoned my favourite cowboy boots for flats. 

I smiled and shared a few words with people I recognized. I waved at Etta and Marla across the square – they were deep in conversation with a few older ladies. It most definitely looked like a coven meeting – scared and seasoned husbands of the ladies avoided that circle like the plague. 

I also saw some police officers. I nodded as I recognized them from the station, but did not stop for a chat. The whole event was too charming. People were talking, taking their time to cultivate real relationships, catching up with friends… And although I adored the whole scenario, I consciously avoided people I knew had a good relationship with the Sheriff. 

I just… I just needed one day where he did not jab at me or humiliate me in front of crowds… 

“Hey, Ser!” a voice called through the crowd and I had the feeling the weird little name belonged to me. I turned and cocked my eyebrow, but the frown softened, although he caught it. “Too much?” Jed fell into step beside me, his long legs slowed his pace to match mine better. 

“Yeah, I don’t think Ser works.” I looked up at him, clasping my hands behind my back. “I feel like a character out of the House of Dragons series.” I bowed exaggeratedly. “Ser Christon at your service, good lord.” 

“Okay, okay, got it!” he grunted then laughed. “It doesn’t work, now stop it.” he pushed my shoulder and I laughed, as I grinned. 

I strolled around with Jed for a while. The sun still cast warm light over the square. The mayor said his little speech, a man looking and talking like a creature, not really sure where he was or how things worked on planet Earth. We giggled with Jed, sharing not evil but most definitely snarky remarks about certain sentences… I laughed at something he said, but I had to rub the back of my neck. My long, curly hair covered my naked spine exposed in my little slip dress, but I felt watched. I glanced around, but could not see a soul. I wrote it down as anxiety still lingering because of the move. 

We stopped by the lemonade stand deep in conversation about one of Jed’s classes. He was attending university out of state. His last year before getting his bachelors in engineering. I wasn’t particularly fascinated by his studies, but I liked his cheerful, boyish nature and his naivete as he talked about things he had not experienced. 

A shiver ran down my spine again and I pulled my shoulders up as if bracing for danger. I yelped in surprise at being yanked from the line. Big arms clasped around my midsection, and the world spun as I dug my nails into the arms. I shrieked not loud enough to cause a commotion – although a muscular man spinning a barely 5’3 woman around with brutish ease, most certainly drew attention. 

“Bloody hell, Johnny!” I spun in his arms as soon as he placed me down, hitting his shoulder as he laughed. “What the hell, you scared me!” I glared up at him. 

He wasn't wearing his uniform. He was in simple blue jeans a white tank top and a blue checkered button down, sleeves pushed up til his elbows. He was still laughing, the smell of his cologne – most definitely too much – twirled around me.

“Ah, Johnny! Now I’m gonna smell like a man. Omen’s not going to let me in the house.” I rubbed down my naked arms, trying to get his scent off. 

“Omen?” a deep voice asked. The tower of a man, Officer Riley himself, appeared. He wore dark washed jeans, and he forced a long sleeve shirt over his big body – material screaming against his  muscles every movement. It was black of course, however, I did not hear Johnny tease him about that. 

“Her cat. Apparently it hates men.” Johnny explained. 

“He, Johnny, my cat is a he.” 

“Your cat is a demon, what he is.” Johnny rolled his eyes and I sighed, I looked at Jed standing awkwardly beside us. 

“You see what I have to deal with?” I rolled my eyes sighing, inviting him into our conversation. Of course, the police officers knew him better, and to my disdain the conversation shifted to cars, and I fell into step beside them as we headed back towards the main circle. 

Officer Garrick and Rosa joined us by then, and I utterly beamed that I no longer had to talk about cars or mechanisms – because don’t get me wrong, I could appreciate a nice car, talk about models and stuff, but I just could not hold a conversation about servo systems or argue against stick shift. 

“Are you enjoying the evening?” Rosa asked with big hopeful eyes as if I did not tell her a hundred times how amazingly she organized the event. Garrick shook his head with a little smile – he too, was off duty, in regular clothes, and one of his hands always rested on Rosa’s back politely as we wandered through the crowd. 

“It’s amazing. It’s magical. Now, I really wish I would have come earlier to experience the 4th of July in your organization.” I chuckled as we shifted towards the tent where there were still quite a lot of people buying cakes and pies.

“Ah, you flatter me.” Rosa most definitely blushed a little and laughed. “Don’t worry, if Briar Hollow does one thing right is community events. My personal favourite is the Harvest Festival, I’m already planning it.” she said with passion in her eyes and I giggled. 

“How do you keep up with her?” I glanced at Garrick, and Rosa turned to him as well, raising a brow as if daring him to say something mildly offensive, husbands tend to deliver as a joke. 

“I don’t. I can’t. She is just too bloody brilliant.” Garrick said so calmly and honestly, it genuinely made me falter. Based on Rosa’s tinted cheeks, she too, did not expect him to say such a thing. Officer Garrick chuckled. “What, cat got your tongues?” He kissed his wife’s temple, and Rosa turned to me. 

“See? If you wait out the obligatory brooding period, you can actually acquire a quite decent husband.” she said with a grin, and Garrick's brow twitched. 

“Decent?” his dark, hazel eyes rested on Rosa’s face.

“Top-tier.” she said with a teasing smirk and I genuinely laughed, eyes softening as I watched them start bantering.  

“Ms. Barlow, Ms. Barlow!” a lady called my name from the pie booth. I looked at her frantically waving her hands then I followed her finger pointing off to the distance. “The mayor forgot his pecan pie! Could you please take it after him?” 

“Sure, don’t worry.” I grabbed the pie with both hands and turned to walk off. 

“Oi, I didn’t know you joined uber eats.” Johnny holler at me from the bench he was sitting at with his fellow officers and Jed. 

“Oh, shut it, Jo–” I kept looking at him while walking forward. 

Big mistake. Huge. 

I was stopped abruptly, and I softly gasped, snapping my eyes to the pie. Warm hands caught my wrists, steadying me before I toppled the pie. I froze, my eyes switching from the pie to the linen covered torso. He’d stopped me from plastering the pecan pie on his crispy white button down. 

“Careful, love.” he breathed. The soft, deep voice of a man, who usually only scolded me, rang in my ears. I slowly raised my head. The stormy blues recognized my jade stare, slowly discovering the familiarity in my face. I’d almost walked into him, and it seemed by his voice and warm touch on me, that he only reacted in split seconds, not realising who he held in place. 

For a second, he seemed to freeze too. His lips slightly parted, lashes fluttered. I was painfully aware of his burning touch on my naked skin.

His palm, calloused but so warm. Could feel the strength in his grip, yet it was not painful, just reassuring. His fingers clutched around my lower arms, his thumb brushing across the sensitive skin of my inner wrist but his index finger extended further, almost reaching my elbow. 

He seemed just as caught off guard as me. He faltered then cleared his voice, switching to something more icier as he pronounced my name: “Ms. Barlow.” 

“I’m so sorry, Sheriff, I did not see you there!” I was already stepping to the side, his warm palms slipping from my skin, his fingers dragging just a bit – as if reluctant to let go. I smiled up at him apologetically, his jaw clenched. 

There was something unreadable in his eyes – not quite anger, not quite... curiosity? Before I could place it, he blinked it away

“Spatial awareness isn’t your strong suit, Ms. Barlow?” he said, the man beside him scoffing friendly, and I let out a breathy chuckle. 

“I guess not, Sheriff. Apologize.” ended the conversation quickly, not wanting to smart mouth back to him, trying to uphold a civil relationship. I just smiled at him, gently nodding then turned and hurried after the whimsical mayor of Briar Hollow. 

But moments before I turned I caught that look in his eyes. There was something unreadable in his eyes – not quite anger, not quite... curiosity? Maybe surprise, as if it caught him off guard that I did not throw a jab at him. 

I made a vow the previous day not to be rude towards him after I had that conversation with Johnny in my kitchen. 

I guess we just started off on the wrong foot! Nothing I could not resolve, right? 

Wrong.

– – – – – – – – – 

I sat for a while with the ladies of Oldie & Goldie. I was a walking, talking advertisement for them. Dress? It was from them. Rings? From them, and a few from Nana’s stash. Shoes? Marla and Etta hated the idea of my cowboy boots with the dress. 

“You have to let that poor piece rest sometimes.” Marla shook his head. 

“If I didn't know you better I’d guess you’re sleeping in those poor boots.” Etta sipped her lemonade, and I laughed shyly. 

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, and the little fairytail light and lanterns lit up I ventured out into the night. The girls I taught about tarot grabbed me, dragging me along them to their bench where a few other classmates of theirs sat. 

The boys, of course, said that astrology, tarot, palm and bone readings are all humbugs. I looked at them amused. What’ve leaned from dating men at the city that they were all fascinated, starved even to know more about the witchy stuff… Men were deeply into mysticism – it both aroused their interest and drenched them in fear. Fear appeared when you started to talk about things they’ve never even mentioned to close friends, let alone a strange girl. 

I read the cards to them, making the boys scared shitless, and the girls giggling messes ready to claim power… I also aided one of the girls, Dody, read to her crush – shh, it’s a secret, but everybody knew.

I did not notice the looks at first. I just sat there, laughing along with the childish jokes, massaging my temple as their volume control was not the best. But… I listened to their rants about shitty parents and emotionally unavailable crushes – same – calmly, offering them advice from personal experiences and the cards. 

I bid my good bye to them as I glanced at my watch. It was only 10 PM, but I agreed to help clean up the pie stand before closing. 

I walked down between the food stands, country music still filling the rapidly cooling summer air. I pulled the slipping strap of my slip dress back to my shoulder and hummed along to the music, letting my eyes wander. 

It was nothing unusual, but when liquor started to pour, people's inhibitions fell… So as I walked, married men took longer looks at me, young daddies chasing their small kids around glanced up to catch my eyes, and let me not start about the looks I got from women. I went to church each Sunday, murmured the same prayers, participated in the same sermons – and yet… I was compared to biblical adulterers, although I wasn’t described as a “sinful woman”. No, they just called me a “common whore”. 

I sighed, rolled my eyes. Same old, same old.

I just fastened my steps and reached the pie stand, friendly older women smiling at me. 

“Managed to catch a husband?” one of them chuckles, collecting the still remaining pies to a big container. 

“Not quite.” I huffed, then headed to wash my hand and grabbed a cloth, poured soap on it, and started to clean the tables. 

It took us a while to collect and clean everything. Hell, it took us two turns just to take the garbage bags to the dumpsters, and I had to walk back once more after everything was done. I threw the smaller bag through the open lid, and I refused to touch it. My hands already smelled like cleaning chemicals and cheap flowery soap. 

I rubbed the cold skin on my upper arms and turned with a gentle sigh. I did not even gather I was so tired, but my eyelids were heavy. The gentle breeze pushed my curly locks over my shoulder.

Careful – I heard a barely audible noise from behind me. I stopped and glanced backward, blinking slowly but nobody stood in that little alley way. 

“Ms. Barlow.” a deep voice called out, making me snap my head ahead, bumping into a smaller bin beside the dumpsters.  

“Ah, Sheriff… You scared me.” I sighed. He tilted his head, his blues resting on me, hands rubbing down his beard. 

That white linen shirt most definitely looked good on him… I tried not to react, just tilted my head and smiled at him. 

"You know,” he let his hand fall from his face, “for someone who drifts through life, you’ve got a real talent for collisions." he said and I could not detect hostility in his words. 

“That’s a rather interesting way to express that you think I’m clumsy.” I said walking closer to the light, farther from the dumpsters. The little alley provided a bit of quiet, a piece of calm from the high spirits of the charity event – people now expressing themselves more freely, some slurring words, some being utterly entertained by their drunken friends. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say that…” he crossed his arms, and I raised my brows as I stopped across him, only a few meter between us, bracketed in by the walls of the alley. “Imprudent, heedless… more likely.” 

I raised my brow, but the ghost of a smile still lingered. His voice was calm, steady, and I felt my nails dig into my palm, but then I relaxed.

 Be kind, be kind, be kind… Pleasant, polite, perfect… repeated the familiar words, the values, rules I grew up following. 

“Well, it would certainly be more suspicious if I were without fault, wouldn’t it now, sir?” I asked as the soft notes of Landslide started to play in the distance. 

“It would most definitely be more placid.” he put an emphasize on the word. 

What the hell was going on with this small town police station throwing around words with nuanced meanings. Were they playing scrabble or what… 

My jaw ticked. Was this retribution? I annoyed him, he’s telling me I’m troublesome. 

“I’ll try to be less unpalatable in the future.” I said with the twitch of my mouth, and I decided to leave but before I could leave the alleyway, I heard his voice again. 

“You have to be more mindful about who you’re flirting with,” came the sharp bite of his voice.

My hands paused mid-motion. My spine stiffened.

I turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

Price stood with his arms crossed, boots planted like the ground owed him an explanation. His face – that usual unreadable stone – had a flicker of something else tonight. Tightness around the eyes. A heat in the jaw.

“What is this about? Are you talking about Jed?” I tried to come up with a plausible reason to trigger a sentence like that. 

“You two are not exactly… on the same level.”

I let out a slow breath. “I understood you didn’t like me around your officers. Maybe not even around the older ladies in town.” My voice stayed calm, but my jaw was clenched. “Jed is an adult. He’s perfectly capable of deciding who he wants to befriend.”

“He’s barely twenty-one.”

I blinked at him. “Why do you care?”

Silence. His deep voice came out low. “This isn’t just about him.”

 “Do you think I’d hurt someone?” I asked, voice rising just a little.

His jaw ticked. His mouth opened, then closed again. He didn’t answer – and that was the answer.

And then it hit me. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “You do.”

“Ms. Barlow—” he tried to cut in, but I stepped forward, chest tight, breath stuttering.

“You actually believe the rumors. That I, I... I’m seducing boys?” My voice cracked around the last word, anger flaring. “That I smile at men and take them to bed the very night?” and I hated that it sounded close to begging. Hated that I cared about what he thought. 

His eyes flicked away like he couldn’t bear to hold mine. “Ms. Barlow,” he said again, lower this time. Like he knew.

“If your next words are gonna be calm down, I swear to God...” I closed my eyes, letting air out my nostrils. I shook my head in disbelief, my smile fell from my lips, desperate tremble took its place. 

I turned to leave. I didn’t want him to see my face – see the shaking. But behind me, I heard his teeth grind, like he couldn’t just let it end.

“Maybe you should consider changing the way you live, Miss Barlow,” he said. “You’d be surprised how fast the rumors die down.”

I froze.

Very slowly, I turned back toward him.

He looked at me – still, unreadable, as if trying to convince himself he was right. That he wasn’t just being cruel. That this didn’t come from some twisted, bitter place inside him that he couldn’t control.

“You did not just say that, sir,” I said softly. Maybe hoping I heard it wrong, that he did not mean it. My jade eyes searched for his, but there was not a morsel of regret in those stormy blues.

He said nothing.

And there it was again. Another crack on the fortified heart of mine… I smiled, tight and cold. Taking a shaky breath in. “I’d say something now, sir. But I was raised better.”

His mouth opened again, maybe to apologize, maybe to double down. I didn’t wait, I simply added “Something you cannot exactly say for yourself.” 

I spun on my heel, angry tears threatening to slide down my face.

I exited the alleyway, a familiar laughter slipped in the air. 

“Oi, Phiny!” Johnny’s cheerful voice called after me, but I did not stop. I did not even look at them.

I kept my eyes down on the ground, slipping through the crowd, gritting my teeth to keep it together until I got to my car…

I don’t know how I got home… I could barely remember the drive, tears clouding my vision. My leg shook as I stumbled up the stairs, falling through my front door. 

I gasped, a shaky sob bursting from my lips as I fell back against the door. A thread snapped on my dress. Little beads fell with soft taps on the dark floors, and rolled everywhere as my shoulder shook.

Omen appeared out of nowhere, panicked, pushing his head under my chin again and again, as if to stop me from crying. 

I really don’t know how long I cried there. But I could not move. 

I laid on the curb, curled up against the heavy front door, one arm under my head, the other curled around Omen. He was still purring, never stopping, licking my salt soaked face. 

I wasn't crying anymore. 

My breath was still ragged, shaky, my body shudder. And I glared into the darkness of my home. 

His only luck was I did not own a picture of him…

I just kept staring without blinking. My thoughts were calm, only snippets brushing through my mind… Faint echoes of his words, nothing else. 

He thought I was a slut. 

Okay. 

So be it. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hey there, :) Thank you so much for reading. I adore reading your comments hehe Family vacation is... well, an emotional rollercoaster, but this city is so inspiring. Gonna be good for our little story. Anywayyys, the terror persists, but so do I.

Many kisses, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 6]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: slut-shaming, self-deprecation, my usual cussing, casual blasphemy, bit of questionable mental health

Charity & Chastity

The end of July quickly approached. 

Life was good. I never would have imagined that in merely one month I’d be able to integrate into the community. Well, some part of it… But it seemed people had settled, and I had business to take care of. 

As I promised Rosa, I was baking pies for the charity event. 

The town was buzzing. It seemed people adored gathering, and when it was for a good cause, they quite literally buzzed with excitement. 

The week leading up to the day of the charity was hectic. All I could hear around town were people talking about it. Well, at least I wasn’t the topic anymore. Not even when I walked around town with big boxes. 

I started to clear the garage out. 

It was certainly a workout. 

Sweat rolled down my naked spine under my oversized overall when I pried open the door. The electric door did not work – something probably got stuck, because I heard the buzzing, but would not budge. Boxes everywhere behind the door, from top to bottom. 

I could not even see the wall across! I just could not get it, who thought this was a good idea?! 

Slowly but surely I got boxes out – only one or two at a time, trying to not mess up my neat house. Not that I completely cleared everything… My garden was still messy, my fence messed up – hence Henrietta frequent visits… – and the porch also needed a lot of attention but I could not help it! Curiosity got the best of me. 

From the outside, the garage seemed just big enough to have a few shelves and a car inside. But because of the mysterious boxes, I could not even tell what the color of the wall was. 

The boxes were labelled with curvy handwriting – books, clothes, china, etc. Some of them had the word CHARITY carved on it too. I kept my Nana’s wishes, and even though I opened those too, I ended up giving them up to charity no matter what was inside. 

I sorted through the simply labelled boxes – some contained cook books, children books, others toys and vintage children clothes. I also found a huge luggage tucked underneath a few flattened brown cardboard. It contained beautiful vintage pieces. 

It seemed, my Nana and I shared a flair for the dramatic… Silk, lace, velvet dresses. A satchel and a few velvet boxes tucked inside too – jewellery. Absolutely stunning and most definitely genuine gold.

Each day I pulled a few boxes out, and uncovered missing pieces of a woman’s life. She had a few boxes, more decorative than the cardboard ones, old hat boxes and stuff… Those held pictures, old love letters. Journals, albums, even receipts and those old timey movie tickets and theater pamphlets. 

I ended up sitting on the ground, back against the hallway wall, resting beside the half unpacked boxes;  dust covered vintage sunglass perched on top of my head, a dusty teddy bear just below my knee and I just sat there for hours reading the diaries of a lady who had the dry humor of an European, the personality of a charmer, and a body probably similar to Cher’s based on her dates – she kept pictures of the men she’d date... Nana had taste.

She was writing about the 70s – in one of the plenty of journals – she was 20-something years old based on my calculations. She certainly had a more exciting life than me.

I had to force myself to stop reading the diaries. That box, the one tagged as “BURN IT” was most definitely the best -- old journals neatly tucked beside photo albums. I’ve even discovered her first attempt of a grimoire in it. It was utterly interesting, but I had real life responsibilities before I could descend memory lane… 

 I had orders to take care of for Lindy. My agent started to call me more often about a book that I promised to finish by the end of September – and which I haven't even started. I also had to bake pies for the charity event. 

I forced myself to shut the boxes full of secrets and unspoken promises, pushing them back into the cold garage – it was also dark, the light bulb burst the first day I turned it on. 

I loaded a few boxes to the trunk of my car – I was surprised by the amount of stuff my little, red convertible could swallow. Although it cost me a few attempt to shut the rear – Mr. Simons probably would have shed a tear when he saw how I treated my vintage car. 

I drove around town. I took the boxes labelled charity to the building of the Red Cross, then I dropped a box off at Joe’s thinking he might be able to sell a few items. I visited Etta and Marla as well, offering them the clothes I did not want (and would not fit), but were in perfect conditions. Oh, they were livid about my Nana's party fits from the 70s. They said the clothes brought back memories and I laughed along with them as they recalled some wild stories involving protestations, drugs and how Marla may or may not have dated a cult leader. 

I had to step out to get the rest of the boxes – full of shoes, in good condition. I was devastated – my Nana and shared many features… except shoe sizes. Like, how cruel that was! She had multiple cowboy boots too! Silk slippers, vintage heels, COW-BOY-BOOTS – all too big for me to wear comfortably.

I struggled with the boxes, they half blocked my view of the pavement. I shut my trunk with my leg – I wore shorts that day, a shocker, I know, – and I tried to see where I was going while also balancing a bigger and a smaller box. 

“Watch out!” a voice barked, and two strong, warm hands yanked me back by the elbow. The boxes tumbled from my arms as I stumbled into something – more like someone – solid.

I gasped as two kids zoomed by on electric scooters, laughing like little maniacs.

Uff, that collision would have most certainly been painful. 

Then I froze. That cologne was too familiar.

I closed my eyes. His body heat pressed into my back. His grip tightened on my arm.

Of course.

I turned slowly – very slowly, dragging my jade eyes from his chest to his face. There he was. 

Deputy Broody, glaring daggers like Zeus himself.

His dark shirt strained across his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms exposed, bulging muscles flexing and relaxing under his skin, veins running along the length of his arms. His blue eyes locked onto mine, beautiful and – surprise, surprise – pissed.

“Sheriff–” My mouth dried out, my throat closing painfully as if I was forced to swallow sand.

“I understand you’re new to town, Ms. Barlow, but crossing a street without looking? That’s kindergarten material,” he said, bone dry.

So much for remorse, I guess. I actually thought he might apologize for snapping at me last week – the memory of his appalling behaviour was still heavy on my mind. He definitely kept me on my toes, always approaching with a polite Ms. Barlow, only to be treated like a child and be left utterly humiliated. 

What an asshole. Grumpy old man, the wind whispered.

“I was homeschooled,” I said flatly.

His face twitched. 

I pulled my arm from his grip and I walked to gather the boxes. A few shoes fell to the concrete. I bend down to grab the spilled footwear, only to be suddenly aware of my shorts inching dangerously high. I pivoted into a squat, keeping my eyes on the task, most certainly turning red. 

I did not just semi-flashed the sheriff… 

Still crouched, I really hoped he’d left, leaving me alone to go about my day. I had no such luck. 

Behind me, his voice rumbled again.

“What are you doing with these, uh…” I glanced over my shoulder. He held up a jeweled silk slipper like it might give him rabies. “Shoes?”

“I’m taking them to Oldie & Goldie, sir,” I said, rising from my squat, with a hand on my knee, straightening my legs as my knees popped quietly. His eyes stayed locked on my face – the only safe territory, apparently – his jaw tight, expression unreadable. 

I smiled at him. It died quickly.

“Do you have a seller’s permit?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes hard enough to see my and my whole bloodline’s past lives. It wasn’t intentional… I was a rather respectful and polite person – I mean, I tried – and I would have never shown my annoyance… However, ever since I arrived to town that man been nothing but a pedantic, fussy, pain in the ars– 

Settle down – I warned myself, biting on my inner cheeks. 

My eyeroll most certainly earned a raised brow from him.

“I’m donating. I’m not the one doing the selling.” I said softly, stacked the smaller box on top of the big one and leveled him a look.

“Didn’t know you’d grown so fond of the ladies,” he said coolly and I crossed my arms. 

“Am I not allowed to make friends?” I asked back calmly, alluding to a previous conversation about him frowning and grunting that I was friendly with his officers. 

He huffed and shook his head. 

“Let me help with your boxes.” he let go of his vest – which he was holding onto during our convo. It was hard to keep my eyes on his disapproving blue eyes while he talked to me – my gaze kept wandering to his big arms… 

“No need, thank you, sir.” I said politely.

“They’re heavy.” he scowled and crossed his arms. 

“I had a few gym classes from first to twelfth grade,” I said, sweetly cool. “Put on plenty of muscle.”

His lip twitched. His eyes drifted down, quickly scanned my figure, then looked back up to my face.

“Where’d it go?” he asked flatly.

My jaw fell to the floor. He did not just say that. 

Morthefu– 

“Ms. Seraphina!” a young male voice called down the street.

We both turned. Gerald Simmons – junior. He smiled and directed his steps over to us. He was all sunshine, had that easy confidence and obliviousness only boys who were closer to 20 had.  

“Been hoping to run into you,” he flashed a charming smile. “Hi, Sheriff Price.”

“Gerald,” the Sheriff nodded, voice steady. Though, his voice dropped half an octave. I raised my brow, but said nothing.

Gerald Junior turned to me immediately, already buzzing with excitement. “Listen, we finally managed to get those taillights.” the sheriff’s brow twitched. It had been nearly a month since he’d told me to get those fixed – by the way his jaw worked, he probably remembered… I kept my eyes on Gerald with a steady smile. “If you’ve got time now, I can install them right away.”

“Oh, really? That’s so great Jed!” I called him by his nickname – we got to talking one time at his father’s garage when my car was in desperate need of an oil change. He offered to be called like that, since it weirded him out when people called him Gerald or Gary, so he explained. He was a sweet guy, really. He actually talked to me, always seemed a little nervous, but at least he did not run off like his younger brothers did. 

 I felt the sheriff’s eyes burning holes into my skin. I glanced up at him. He was calm, oddly so, it was worse than when he gave me that withering look. “ – but I, uh… I cannot leave now, I was just on my way to Etta and Marla–” 

“I’ll help. Then we can drive together.” he said without thinking, and the lanky boy grabbed the bigger box, already walking toward the store. I blinked, holding the smaller box, my eyes stuck on the sheriff’s chest. 

Gerald turned back, mid-stride with a boyish smile. “Ah – sorry, sir! Forgot to say goodbye.”

I looked up at Price. His face was unreadable, save for that slight pinch of irritation, but his lips twitched into a smile. Funny how he could speak so gently to Gerald, even give him a smile, but always sounding like he was scolding me.

“It’s alright, son,” he said. “Tell your father I’ll drop by later.”

“Sure, will do, sir.” Jed smiled, and turned on his heels.  

I kept my eyes on Price. His tone might’ve been polite, kind, but through his word choices, it most definitely felt as if he was establishing dominance. I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head, letting the silence hang for a moment.

“Thanks for the save, Sheriff. ‘Preciate it.” I pulled my lips into a small smile, not quite reaching my eyes. I took a few steps backwards, then I spun around. 

I was in no haste walking off, hips gently swaying, jewelleries clinking with each step. 

Cute lil’ butt. 

The thought passed, shiver ran down my neck and I pressed my eyes shut, shaking my head. 

“Shut up.” I mumbled to myself. 

And I felt his eyes follow me.

I also felt the judgement licking at my spine.

I turned the corner, biting my lips, a slight pink tint sitting atop of my cheeks. 

For some stupid reason I cared what he thought about me… I always tried my hardest to be "proper, polite and perfect", back when I was in the city, even now, in town – though I dressed more freely, I take that. 

But… I was pretty sure Sheriff Price thought I was a slut… 

God knows he already looked at me like I was one.

– – – – – – — – – – – 

I had my fair share of not so pleasant days. 

Back in the city I had these long weeks where I would have no energy, still played though, acting pleasant, but at home I’d just drag myself to bed and out of it each morning. 

Such mood avoided me in Briar Hollow. However, I did wake up with rather low energy in the second part of the week. 

I stayed up late usually, drawing up ideas for the upcoming Grimoire project – modern day occultism was thriving, and many wanted a nice witchy journal. The publisher wanted to drop it at the beginning of October, just in time for peak Halloween season.

Briar Hollow was a great inspiration when it came to my witchy side. My Nana’s diaries, her little drawings, and interesting color choices in her journals were certainly inspiring. Hell, even the house itself. And the company was thrilled, eating up whatever pages I sent them. 

As for the book… Earlier that year, I signed a contract for a second “witchy book” since the first one was so popular. Samantha was on my ass about it, threatening to fly to town to get my head straight. Of course, it was just a joke, but still. They were expecting the first draft by September. 

I had my schedule packed and my hands full with my little business ventures – but I was grateful to be indulging in my creative pursuits, finally away from corporate life and suffocating expectations…

I was still in my little work room when the night fell. It was up on the second floor, balcony doors open, night breeze swarming around me, bringing the scent of wild flowers and rain in its arms. It wasn’t quite a full moon, but still the not so little luminary casted its light into the room. 

Candles were dancing, crystals and watercolors spread across my table, fingertips drenched in black ink, and I was pretty sure I accidentally drew a light blue line across my face hours ago. I tend to do that, completely getting lost in whatever I was doing… 

And my mind kept wandering. 

Of course I was concocting a love spell, what else would a witch do past midnight on a Friday… My red wine stood abandoned on the little Aphrodite altar. It was littered with roses, rose quartz and squares of dark chocolate in a crystal bowl. I had Nana’s pearls spread out on top of some sea-shells I found in a box labelled “CALIFORNIA”. 

I bit my lip, the words curled softly on top of the parchment. The sweet scent of sugar and roses mixed in the air with the soft notes of whatever playlist was playing. I placed down my fountain pen and reached for a thin brush. Painted another golden star on the dark blue edges of the page. 

Stormy blue – deep, strong. Although little freckles of lighter blues mixed into the solid color, hinting at something softer. Kindness… Lashes fluttered, thick and dark, calmly lowered as the soft irises swam across the words. Pupils relaxed, then a blink, looking to the side with alertness, only to soften again. Little crowfoots breaking at the edge, as the stormy blue gained a new layer of lighter coloring. 

He has beautiful eyes, ain’t he. 

A whisper. 

My whole body froze, gold paint bleeding into the thick paper. I blinked slowly, straightening my back, placing down the little brush. I leaned back, the thick material of my oversized white button-down shifted as I pressed the heels of my palms over my eyes, rubbing the aching, delicate skin on top of my cheekbones. The shirt fell off one shoulder, and I sighed resting my hands on top of my knee that was pulled to my chest. 

I blinked at the old clock on top of a cabinet. 

Three past sixteen. I stared for a beat before it registered – 3:16 AM.

I huffed, and gently placed my feet down. 

I only wanted to touch up a few things earlier that evening. Wanted to head to bed early. Guess, my head had other plans. 

I rose to my feet and as I murmured soft byes and thank yous into the candles, I blew them out. Closed the balcony window, washed my brushes in a clean jar, then my eyes wandered to the last page I worked on. 

It seemed as if I ripped it from a children's book; midnight blues swarming, soft silver and golden stars, little dots sprinkled all over the page, black cursive listing ingredients, as well as steps to the ritual and warnings. 

Wanderlust – the name I’ve chosen for the spell. 

I read the words, the purpose of the spell, the headspace one should be in, and my lips quirked. 

I didn’t remember putting any of those words on the paper. 

Must have been really clocked out. 

I placed the parchment down beside the other drying pages and grabbed the last candle still burning on the table. My steps softly shuffled down the creaky wood panels, and walked past closed doored rooms. 

A yawn slipped my lips and placed down the candle on my nightstand. I fell in bed, and just before letting the soft pillows, the mixture of velvet and silk covered duvets swallow my body, I rose to my elbow, and with a quick prayer blew the candle out. 

Then my alarm blared. 

What felt like a minute of sleep, my phone flashed with the numbers. 

6:38 AM. 

I grunted. I rubbed my face, pressing my hands over my eyes.

I had to establish a better sleeping schedule. 

Then I heard a shuffle. I glanced through my fingers and my eyes widened. 

“Don’t. You. Dare.” I grunted at Omen. 

The cat’s green eyes glinted mischievously as he sat on top of my vanity. His little black paw swatted at a big glass of water, pushing the crystal just a tad bit closer to the side of the tabletop. 

“Omen.” I rose slowly onto my knees, and the cat held eye contact. The glass dangled a little on the edge, not quite falling over.  

He kept looking at me with an emotionless face. 

Then pat.

“Omen!”

I’ve never in my life moved so fast, jumping off my bed just as the sassy cat pushed my glass. I grabbed it mid air, only a splash of water arriving on the dark wooden floors. I glared at the car, who seemed utterly unbothered. He rose to his feet,  his body swaying, only stopping to look over his shoulder as if saying. 

“You need to hydrate.” a blink. “Also, feed me, human.” then with a soft thud, leaped from the vanity. 

“You are such a biss sometimes.” I sighed, collapsing onto the puff in front of the vanity. It was certainly a cholesterol boosting morning, but I sipped my water, trying to collect my thoughts. 

I had a lot to do. Certainly baking pies! 

– – – – – – – – 

I’m not sure how it happened. 

One minute I was buying flour, the next Johnny was in my kitchen, shoving pie in his face.

It was the early afternoon. I have been baking since morning, different sized pies and cakes were lined up like little soldiers on the dinner table. I just had to step out to buy some ingredients since I forgot to do the shopping earlier that week. I was certainly a little dazed, deep in thought, and when I ran into Johnny. He took one glance at my face, and smirked asking if I was avoiding sleep lately. 

But one word led to another, he ended up volunteering to do a taste test of the cakes I baked. 

“Jesus, how are you doing this?” He took a bite out of a golden brown fluffy square. “You seriously mean to tell me you just winged this?” his playful blue eyes rested on my face as I leaned against the kitchen island with my arms crossed. 

“I mean, this is certainly not rocket science… Just mixed some herbs and berries. I just wanted someone else to tell me it wasn’t disgusting.” I rubbed the chin of Omen. He was perched on a barstool beside my kitchen island. He definitely looked at Johnny as if he was inferior, then again, Omen hardly tolerated any man around me other than himself. 

“Phiny, I highly doubt that you could ever managed to bake something even slightly disgusting.” he took a sip from the ice tea and I giggled. 

“You are such a flirt, Johnny, Christ.” I turned and checked on the coconut-white chocolate cookies, slowly turning golden at their edges. 

“Well it’s easy to be flirty with someone who cannot take compliments.” he chuckled. 

I gasped, whipping around dramatically. “You take that back.”

He laughed and my exaggerated facial expression softened into something more calm, somber. I gently shook my head, and turned to stir another bowl of batter. 

“What is up with you today, Phiny?” he asked on a softer note, and I glanced at him. He was still smiling, but a bit more seriousness mixed with his features. “You seem a little jaded.” 

“Nothing, Johnny, don’t worry about it… It has been just a very busy week, hell, month, even.” I placed a few cooled muffins in containers. And though I did not say it out loud, the interactions with Sheriff Price also took a toll on my mental health... Sure, he was strict, stern – obviously, he was the authority in town – but then he turned cruel, then engaged in banter that felt a bit lighter, teasing even… It was Russian roulette, figuring out how his mood was that day… And I still did not understand why he was so cruel when I was nothing but forthcoming… 

Johnny looked at me with calmer eyes, he crossed his arms. As if he could read my mind, said.

“You know, I felt really sorry for you when you came by the station last week… You really caught the boss on one of his worst days.” 

“It wasn’t anything special, Johnny, he seems to be that way with me a lot. Look, I understand, I told Rosa too–” 

“I don’t think you understand.” he bit his lip, cutting me off. I turned to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That day at the station, when you brought your property stuff” he explained slowly, his big arms crossed across his chest, uniform sleeves straining against his skin. “He was having one of his migraine episodes… You know, he is a good man, very kind to civilians, really, but when you’re working with him you just pick up on it.” A beat passed. “He doesn’t really talk about it, but when he is having his headaches, he usually comes in to work with his glasses on, jaw tensed, growling more, a bit more snappy but still fair…” 

“Oh, wow, I must really annoy him tremendously then.” sighing thinking about the sheriff’s behaviour towards me.

“Yeah, well,” he chuckled. “We joked at the station how aggravated he gets around you. You seem to be getting him to react from a rather visceral place.” 

“Using big words now, Johnny?” I sent him a glance and he rolled his eyes. 

“What I mean, I think he acted like an arse because he was in pain. Not an excuse, but I thought someone should tell you. So, don’t take his words personally.” he took a bite of the piece of pie I offered him. 

I fell silent for a second…

My chest clenched, guilt creeping up the inside of my sternum, closing the base of my throat uncomfortably. I felt bad for judging him… I mean, I wasn’t exactly rude, but knowing he was miserable that day – I should have handled that situation with more kindness, I guess. 

Our topic of discussion shifted to the pies again, and I laughed at Johnny. He was definitely a man thinking with his stomach. 

“MacTavish… MacTavish…” his radio cracked to life. I looked at Johnny he did not seem to be bothered by his radio. “Soap, I swear to god if you don't pick up the goddamn—" Officer Riley’s deep voice came like deep thunder before storm. 

“Oi, calm down, Lt., I might just think that you missed me calling me so panicked…” Johnny laughed chewing and his blue eyes seemed to be drunk on sugar. 

“Where the hell are you? You went out to patrol an hour ago!” he growled, and hell, I’ve never heard Officer Riley talk that much, let alone this annoyed. I chatted with him a few times, running into him at the library, but he was always sweet and polite. “What the hell are you doing?” the agitated voice of the man echoed in my kitchen.

“I’m eating pie.” Johnny simply said. I had to hold back my laughter. His nonchalance was definitely oil to fire.

“What?” then silence. “Johnny, don't play, you’re not at the diner, that was the first place I checked!” 

“I’m at the Barlow house.” he swallowed. “Lt, you have to try it. Phiny bakes cakes that make heaven feel like it’s only the devil’s playground.” 

I hissed at that blasphemous statement, and pulled a new batch out. 

“Get. Your ass. Back at the station.” the clipped voice of Officer Riley came. And even through the radio I could tell his jaw was locked tight. 

“Ah, Lt., come on.” Johnny sighed, his blue eyes resting on me as I watched him with an amused expression. 

Then radio silence. 

“Sheriff says you’re on desk duty the rest of the year if you don’t get your act together…” by the mentioning of the sheriff Johnny’s fork stopped in his mouth. “And he cursed too. Would you like me to repeat it?” 

“I’m on my way!” he said hastily, mouth full of sweet, putting down the plate. 

I laughed as he clumsily collected his keys and sunglasses. 

“Sorry, Phiny, gotta rush.” he was half way into the hallway when I ran after him. 

“Wait, Johnny! Take some cake.” I reached a big tin box already packed with goods. It contained muffins, cookies, and sliced fruit bread squares. “Officer Riley certainly looks like someone who needs a little sweetness in his life.” I said cheekily

“You have no idea.” he snorted, taking the box, then he looked at me while walking backward. I raised my brow. “You know, I could quite easily imagine you to be my missus.” 

I leaned against my doorframe, arms crossed, watching the tall man almost fall on my porch. “You wouldn’t last a week, Johnny.” I said with a smirk. 

“Nah, I’d give myself two weeks before you’d offer my soul to our big guy Satan.” he grinned, taking slow steps away. I laughed, and he almost left through my dark, ivy twined garden gates when I called after him. 

“Hey, Johnny!” he looked back. I smiled shyly. “Thanks… for the conversation.” 

The tall guy’s grin softened. He definitely managed to lift my bad mood, offering me ease and good chaos on platter. 

“Anytime, Phiny.”  he winked then ran off, crossing the street to his cruiser.

-----------------------

Hi! :) Thank you so much for reading. Also, thank you so much for the kind words. Truly makes my day! Bisous and biscuits, S

[ughcannotthinkofanything]

Bloodmoon [Ch 5]

sheriff price x witchy girl warnings: sexualization, teens doing witchcraft, idk i do cuss a little, don’t i lol, mocking traditional Christian values (just a little, nothing blasphemous) it's a slooow burn, and i'm exploring the town. sorry :) Also, got carried away; Price appreciation at its finest; also-also drank too much coffee -- can you tell? So, I guess enjoy hehe

Sinful

The early morning interaction with Sheriff Price was most definitely not pleasant. I felt anxious, laughing out of agitation and disbelief. The perfect set-up for shopping therapy. 

I turned my boots towards the Oldie & Goldie and moved like a tired wisp of smoke. The bell over the door gave its usual silver chime, and just like that, the sharp edge of the morning dulled a little.

I took a deep breath, the dimmed lights immediately relaxed my shoulders.

Lavender oil. Old books. A whiff of some long-forgotten perfume. The kind of scent that sinks into your bones like a lullaby. It wasn’t a big store by any chance. It was a cozy little place, packed with elegant, vintage clothing and accessories. Some little trinkets too. I adored it. 

Etta looked up from behind the counter, peering over her sequined reading glasses, wrist deep in a velvet-lined jewelry drawer. Marla, across the shop, was folding silk scarves with the reverence of someone handling sacred scrolls. They both lit up when they saw me.

“Well, if it isn’t our starlet,” Marla called.

“Or our little magpie,” Etta added. “Come to hoard more shiny things, darling?”

I gave them a sheepish smile, laughing softly. Those two older ladies only knew me for a couple of  weeks but we bonded over our love for the past – of course, they had a bit different perception of it, but still. They were genuinely good people, a bit theatrical, but sweet. 

I already drifted toward the rack of vintage slips and camisoles, like my body knew way better what I needed than my mind did. My voice came out quieter than I meant.

“I just need a bit of cheer. It’s been a hard day.” I felt the soft silky material slip through my heavily ringed fingers. 

They shared a look. One of those silent, psychic communications only women of a certain age can pull off. Then, like they’d rehearsed it, they both glanced at their watches.

“Sweetheart,” Marla said, “it’s not even eleven.”

“You didn’t even give the sun a chance to warm your back,” Etta added, coming around the counter with a frown.

I shrugged and let my fingertips trail across a lemon-yellow dress that looked like it once belonged in a silent film. “Just… people. Men with badges. And tempers.”

Their faces softened. Not surprised. Not even angry. Just... knowing.

“The sheriff is on your case again?” Etta asked gently. And I bit my lip, not really meeting her eyes, and nodded.

“Oh, honey,” Marla sighed. She reached behind her and pulled a silk scarf off the rack. She made me stand in front of her, draping the soft material over my shoulders like a blessing. “You tangled with Sheriff Broody?”

That tugged a smile from me, barely there but real.

“I didn’t tangle,” I muttered, blinking at her. Her eyes were still youthful behind her glasses. “I just… merely dared to breathe beside him. It feels like I keep stepping on his toes… No matter what I do.” I said as Marla moved her head toward the counter and I followed. 

They always offered tea… I brought them biscuits every week – lemony, lavender-sugar, vanilla ones. They were like my personal old lady advisors when it came to the sheriff. They managed to pry every story out of me, tackling my private nature to the ground, offering their very strong opinions about their “sweet John” – what they called him. 

Etta clucked her tongue and pulled out a tray of vintage rings like she was dealing tarot as I explained to them what happened that morning. They always listened, raising their brows whenever “John” did something stupid in their opinion. 

“... Anyway, I really think he hates me. And I don’t even know why?” I huffed frustrated. “Like, seriously! Can a man really hold that much contempt for something he doesn’t even believe in?” I sighed as I played with a beautiful lilac scarf.

“That man’s been hot and bothered ever since you moved into town. Like a schoolboy yanking on a girl’s pigtails.” Etta inspected a ring then reached it toward me as I abandoned the scarf.

“We’ve seen it a hundred times,” Marla said with a wink. “He doesn’t know if he wants to cuff you or kiss you.”

“Both,” Etta muttered, smirking. “Though he probably wouldn’t admit to either.”

I laughed — the first proper one of the day — and slid the chunky silver ring onto my finger. It was too big. Slipped around my bony fingers. But it sparkled like moonlight on water. It felt like a little spell in progress.

“You two are ridiculous,” I said softly, but with a smile. I let the ring slip off my finger, fall onto my other palm. Placed it on the counter.

Etta clucked her tongue and reached for the rings again, like she needed something metal and magical in her hand. “Sweet Sheriff John's been walking around like a thundercloud lately, but he’s most definitely easy on the eyes... Honestly, if I were twenty years younger…”

Marla gave her a look. “Twenty?”

Etta grinned and rolled her eyes. “Alright, thirty." she said in her languorous voice. “But I still have good ankles.”

“You still have killer ankles,” I said, turning toward her. “And honestly? The sheriff would be lucky if you so much as glanced in his direction.”

Etta beamed, dramatically fanning herself with a silk scarf. “Flattery before noon? Careful, darling. This one’s dangerous.”

“You’re both dangerous,” I said. “That’s why I come here. It’s like walking into a coven of good chaos.” I fell into one of the vintage armchairs. The fabric creaked beneath me, sun-warmed velvet caressing my skin. I leaned back, crossing my legs. 

Marla chuckled. “Well, we have been called worse.”

“And better,” Etta added, winking. Then her smile softened, looking at my slightly sulking shoulders. “But listen — that man, for all his growling, is good. Very kind. Honest. Protective, in that irritating, stomp-around way some men are.” her lips twitched and I giggled. 

“Biggest bachelor in town,” Marla added with a shake of her head as her porcelain cup clinked against the tea plate . “Single mothers, widowed ladies, even those no good, definitely too young teenage darlings fan over him. You should’ve seen the pie campaign last year. Women were peacocking around, presenting pies, trying to convince him that they would be good wives.”

“Shame he’s too busy scowling to eat any of it,” Etta said and I laughed, shaking my head. Those ladies had sharp tongues but I adored them. They dared to say what everyone was thinking but were too scared to say it. 

“You two should go after him. Honestly. I’d love to watch that.” My lips twitched into a small smile. 

Marla waved me off. “Pfft. He couldn’t handle me, darlin’.”

“He definitely couldn’t handle you,” I said.

Etta gave me a pointed look. “But he might be able to handle you, sweetheart.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and smiled instead. “I’m too old to play around emotionally immature men.” They both scoffed.  “Maybe once he learns how to use his words instead of withering looks.”

“That’s the spirit, darlin’” Marla said, and leaned forward. My eyes widened as she tilted my chin like she was trying to see the best light for a portrait, “You are far too lovely and far too gentle to let some walking thundercloud ruin your morning.”

Outside, the clouds still hung low. But for a breath of a second, the sun blinked through — just enough to kiss the shop window, like it had been listening. I smiled at Marla as she patted my hand.

“Now, enough with the sulking” Marla slapped her hands together and as if on cue, Etta moved toward the back. “A new rack of silk slips arrived this morning. I did not shelve them so you could take a look at it before anybody else.” She winked at me and I laughed. 

“You two are spoiling me.” I rose to my feet from the comfortable armchair, and followed them. 

“Sweetheart, you deserve to be spoiled!” Etta chuckled. “Now, come take a look at this.” She pulled a hanger and I gasped. 

“Lord, that is gorgeous…” I already moved towards her, seeing Marla chuckle. 

— – – – – – – – – 

I swung the paper bag in my hand, bracelets gently jingling, leg slipping between the slip with every step. Rosa’s heels clicked confidently against the pavement. 

We were laughing about something – a lady being a pain in the ass at the town hall, and Rosa always had these snarky remarks which made me giggle. 

“Anyway,” she said, rounding the corner with me, “Kyle said the sheriff was giving you a hard time this morning?”

I sighed and shook my head. “It’s whatever… I can accept that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.” I sipped from my iced coffee, straw tucked between my lips, and Rosa fell silent for a second, watching me.

“You know… he’s not half bad,” she said, biting her lip.

“Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that.” I shook my head, a bitter smile spreading. I shook my head. “It’s really whatever, Rosa…” 

“No, no, I get it. I do. But John’s not always like that,” she said, her tone gentle but steady.

I shot her a look. She was a few years older than me — late twenties — and sometimes she talked like she knew everything, which was annoying -- because she usually wasn’t wrong.

“He’s… kind. Thoughtful,” she added. “Just not in the most obvious ways.”

I glanced at her with a sly smile. “You’re telling me I bring out the worst in him?”

“No,” she said quickly, hesitating, but I smiled at her. “I’m saying… maybe you’re someone he hasn’t figured out yet. You throw him off.”

She gave her coffee a little swirl, like she was thinking about something deeper.

“Kyle was the same way,” she said finally, a small smile pulling at her lips.

I raised a brow. “Now that’s hard to believe.”

She laughed. “I swear! When I met him, he was this weirdly formal guy. Real polite, real distant. Told me not to get involved with him — said he didn’t want to ‘mess me up’ or something.”

She rolled her eyes, and I chuckled into my straw.

“Well, you know me. No man tells me what to do.” She grinned. “We ended up dating, and then, boom — married. But it wasn’t overnight. It took time.” she looked at her ring a little sad. Her big brown eyes swam to me. “They’ve seen stuff, you know? All served overseas… Kyle still doesn’t talk about most of it. But trust comes slow for them.”

“Yeah, I get that…” I nodded. They all seemed awfully ripped to be just regular people. And my first impression on the sheriff, when he first stopped me, was just that: ex-military. 

“You’ve been here, what, two, three weeks?” she said. “Give him a minute. He spent years making sure this town was clean — ‘free of scum,’ like Simon says... I don’t think he’s ever had to deal with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” I asked, one brow raised.

She gave me a look and a cheeky grin. “A woman he’s attracted to and a witch?”

I let out a snort and didn’t bother correcting her. I just sipped my coffee, letting her words settle

We shifted the conversation to something lighter after that — something about the farmer’s market this weekend, I think. Eventually Rosa had to head back to work, and I sat in the park a little longer, sipping what was left of my drink.

Briar Hollow felt… safe.

Not a fairytale, of course — people still whispered. I wasn’t naïve. But no one had tried to burn me yet, so I figured that was progress.

And something was sure as hell… Price was a respected man. Nobody had a bad word about him, and that had to suggest something. 

I sighed. Decided to let it go… 

The sheriff was the sheriff. One man that I had no connection with what-so-ever. And though I kept meeting him, this was just my first few weeks in town!

It was just a coincidence. 

I stood up, throwing my empty cup into the bin, and fished around in my bag for my keys. 

How hard could it be to avoid him? It’s just one man in a midsized town… 

I walked up to my car, parked on the side of the road, and unlocked the door. Still half-lost in my thought, until my eyes caught a familiar uniform on the other side of the busy road. 

Sheriff Price… 

Glasses off, eyes covered by the brim of his hat, his tall body hunched low. Beside him a tiny, elderly lady grasping his arm, shuffling her slow legs beside the big man. 

She was giggling, telling something to the sheriff, her hands slightly shaking.

As the sheriff’ head moved, I froze. 

His eyes were tired, dark circles underneath the usually stormy blue eyes, but there he was:

Smiling.

Not grinning, not while clenching his jaw, no scowls. He was smiling, all soft eyes, rounder cheeks, lips pulled into a kind smile.  

It made my heart jump against my ribcage so hard I had to turn away. 

I leaned against my car, a hand on my chest. 

Gosh… 

The universe was so not funny. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – 

I spent a lot of time at home, but I did wander into town from time to time. Once the inside of my house was sorted - the rooms, anyway; we don’t talk about the garage - I set up a little workstation. Drying flowers and spices, making candles and natural soaps. I even wrote love spells on parchment.

I was most definitely an Aphrodite worshipper - don’t tell my mother - but I still went to church every Sunday. I wore a little gold cross with crystals resting between my collarbones, dressed proper, held my white rosary tight while I murmured Amen just as religiously as I whispered so mote it be.

I was an enigma - at least, that’s what my agent used to say. I liked to think I stood on more than one leg.

I’d befriended the local Wicca store owner, a woman in her thirties. People didn’t seem to whisper about her as much as they did about me - probably because she dressed in soft colors. I, naturally, preferred my blacks.

“Do you offer tarot readings?” she asked as she took the bag I placed on the counter. She’d ordered a few things from me - she liked my love and glamour spells.

“Ah, no, I only read for fun,” I laughed softly. “I design tarot decks, though. And grimoires to be filled.”

“Is that so? Do you still do that?” Her sparkling blue eyes lit up. They were unusually light, and the pastels she wore only made them pop more.

“I do. I just sent off some drafts for a new product last week.” I played with my hair shyly, but she seemed genuinely interested.

“You don’t say! Can you give me the name of the publisher you work with?” she asked, leaning over the counter. I blinked, caught off guard. “Ever since you showed up, the local teen girls keep asking about ‘witch diaries’ and love spells,” she laughed.

I chuckled into my palm. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. One of them said something like, they wanted men ‘to fall and crawl after them.’ Then added a bunch of slang I didn’t understand - and wouldn’t dare repeat.”

I snorted. “Jesus. I firmly told them I don’t do love spells on myself... And I definitely don’t condone turning men -- or in their case, teenage boys - into slaves.”

We both laughed.

I’d befriended some high school girls last week. Found them on a bench near the library, reading tarot cards in the most chaotic, wildly inaccurate way. When they butchered The Tower, I had to step in. I taught them a few tricks and a more valid way to interpret the cards.

I bit my lip, rummaging around in my bag for my wallet.

“You don’t believe in love spells?” she asked, smiling with a raised brow.

I shook my head. “Oh, I do perform them for others. But I prefer beauty spells and glamour magick.” I stole a glance at her. “Had my fair share of love spells not turning out the way I intended.”

She chuckled as I handed her a card from my wallet.

“Aren’t we all…” she said warmly, taking it.

“Here. Samantha is lovely and very helpful. If you're interested, I also wrote a spell book -- I’m sure you can guess the topic.”

Her brow arched. “You’re kidding.”

“It sells well in the bigger cities. Might bring in a nice profit here, too. Just tell Sam you know me -- she’ll offer you a better deal.”

“You’re full of surprises, Seraphina,” she said, blinking at the clean, professional card.

I smiled. “Well, I had to turn to my creative pursuits so I wouldn’t lose my mind at my old corporate job.”

“Oh, dear lord, I believe you.” she chuckled and tilted her head. “Well, thank you very much, Seraphina. See you next week?” 

“Certainly, “ I folded the order paper neatly and tucked it in my journal. “High blessings, Lindy.”

“High blessings, Seraphina.” she waved and I left the store. 

My black sunglasses slid down in front of my eyes as I stepped out into the blaring sunlight.

It was a nice day -- scorching hot. Johnny usually teased me about how I didn’t boil in my black attires while he wilted in his summer uniform. But I liked the warm weather. I got cold too easily.

I strolled down the street with long, confident strides. Each step made my bracelets and the silver and gold accessories around my waist chime in rhythm. My just-polished cowboy boots clacked loudly against the pavement.

Across the street, I spotted the ladies lounging outside Oldie & Goldie, fans in hand, parasols out like queens.

“Looking glamorous, ladies,” I called over to them across the street. 

Ms. Joy looked up from her convo with Etta and Marla, she squinted at me over her readers. “Girl, what spell do you use to keep your makeup on in this heat?”

“Secrets of the coven,” I laughed half joking. “But I’ll tell you over tea the next time.”

“You better!” she pointed at me seriously and I could not help but giggle, but they too chuckled. Waved their fans at me like I was causing a scandal, which maybe I was.

A little further up, I ducked into Ms. Dotti’s café for decent coffee you won’t get at the diner -- and a chat.

“Ah, Sera!,” one of the young moms' eyes sparkled as I passed their table. Her little girl was sitting across her eating some pastry, her face covered in chocolate. 

“Oh, heyy.” I stopped and pushed my glasses to the top of my head. “Good to see you two! I see her tummy is better.” I ruffled the giggling little girl’s milk blonde hair.

“Yes, thank you. That tea really helped a lot.” She looked up at me, grateful. “You have no idea how amazing it is to finally have a full night's sleep, not having to rub her tummy.” 

“Well, I'm really happy if it helped.” I smiled at her. “Let me know if you need more. I always have a big stack in my cupboard.” I offered smiling, and shared a pleasant convo with the other moms too. 

Outside the frozen yogurt place, the group of teen girls sat tangled in their phones and headphones.

“Don’t summon anything you can’t banish, girls,” I called, raising a brow as I passed them by.

One of them looked up, grinning. “Only summoning summer flings.”

“And sugar daddys.” 

“Well, if you light candles, don’t do it near your curtains,” I called back, waving with half a hand, and they laughed.

By the farmers market, Mr. Carver’s father sat on his usual stool like a throne, arms crossed, scowl on full display. Men in this town liked to either drool or scowl. There was really no inbetween. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite heretic,” he said, his deep voice booming as he noticed me meters away.

“Mr. Carver,” I bowed deeply, with a big grin as I got closer, “still judging me for wearing crop tops in the Lord’s sunlight?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold in July, dressed like that,” he muttered, his thick brows pulled together.

I leaned in with a big smile, lowering my voice. “You say that every week, sir. Still waiting for the prophecy to hit.”

He didn’t smile — not really — but the corners of his eyes softened. “Hmph.”

“I brought you black licorice. The real stuff,” I added, dropping the bag into his lap.

He grunted but held onto it like gold. I waved to the younger Mr. Carver packing watermelons and quickly crossed the road. 

As I made my way toward the town square, I spotted Rosa — clipboard in hand, barking orders with grace, sweat beading at her temples under her stylish sunglasses.

“Hey there, boss! Permission to step on the premises?” I called, raising two iced coffees like peace offerings.

She turned, loose white dress spinning around her knees, scowl locked and loaded, but as soon as she spotted me, it dropped.

“Lord, Seraphina, you look like sin,” she said, marching over in her sleek, office-appropriate dress.

“It’s hot outside, Mrs. Garrick. I’ll confess my sins on Sunday anyway,” I said, handing her a cup, biting back a cheeky smile.

She scoffed. “Well, I think the town’s men have more to confess than you by the way they stare after you down the street.” she pointed with her chin across the street.

I sipped my coffee, grinning. “I’m just walking, Rosa. They’re the ones breaking commandments.”

“Jesus, to be young and free.” she rolled her eyes and I shook my head. 

“You’re like 3 years older than me, stop it.” I giggled and I strolled beside her, looking at the little tents being constucted. 

Rosa and I walked across the town square, the gravel crunching faintly beneath our shoes as we stepped around extension cords and half-unpacked crates.

The charity tents were halfway up, white canvas flapping gently in the late afternoon breeze. The sun beat down, drawing a shimmer from the rows of aluminum poles and metal rods stacked on the grass. Men were busy everywhere – hauling, hammering, sweating – though a few had noticeably slowed down as we passed.

I didn’t look directly at them, but I felt it. The quiet hush in their conversations. The subtle shifting of eyes. Like walking through static.

One of the younger construction guys tried not to stare and failed miserably, nearly tripping over a cooler.

I caught the wobble of a grin pulling at Rosa’s mouth. “I told you. Sinful,” she said under her breath, sipping her iced coffee.

“Stop it.” I huffed, lowering my eyes behind my glasses. 

My boots clicked over the pavement as I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, head held high. I wasn’t doing anything, just walking. But some of these men looked at me as if I had a flashing neon sign above my head with the words OPEN FOR BUSINESS vibrating. 

Don’t get me wrong, I was well-aware of my body, and that I dressed in a rather unconventional way. But still… I was baffled how shamelessly people would stare.

And then I saw them.

A few police officers were helping near the center tent – Johnny among them, baseball cap turned backwards, a clipboard in hand. A couple of younger officers were wrestling with a tangled banner, half-listening as one of them chuckled and glanced our way.

Then there was him.

Sheriff Price stood near the back of a pickup truck, big arms exposed, a black T-shirt clinging to the hard lines of his shoulders. He was bent over, tugging a bundle of cords out of a crate. Jeans. Work boots. No badge in sight, but unmistakably him.

Honey, with an ass like that, I would not mind him expanding our bloodline…

– the whisper danced through my mind like summer breeze.

I faltered.

I glared at my coffee for a solid second.

The hell was wrong with me, Jesus… 

He didn’t see me at first – too busy barking instructions, his hat shading his eyes. But the second one of the younger officers elbowed the other and nodded in our direction with a stupid grin, saying something I could not hear, Price’s head snapped up.

His eyes followed their gaze to us.

To me.

I kept walking, face calm, chin up – pretending not to notice, continuing my conversation with Rosa. But I saw the way his expression shifted – still unreadable. The muscle that ticked in his jaw. His eyes lingered just a beat too long before he turned back to his men.

“Hey!” he barked, voice sharp enough to cut through wood, but oh so deep, still very rich… Definitely music to my ears, making my stomach twist, even though I’d promised myself I’d keep my distance. “Get your damn eyes on your work. That banner’s not going to hang itself.”

A quiet scramble followed.

Rosa hummed beside me, a knowing sound. “See?” she muttered behind her coffee, her eyes shifting to me from behind her glasses. “Told you he doesn’t know what to do with you.”

“Yeah, well… How beautiful petunias!” I turned my head definitely way too abruptly. 

“Girl!” Rosa burst out laughing, bringing just more attention to us. My face burned as I kept my back towards the officers, eyes fixed on the colorful pot of flowers. 

Ah, spirits help me.

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Hi there (thick southern accent), Thank you sooo much for reading. :) Kissy kisses, S