Teddy groaned from the front door, which told her she was missing the show, but she ignored him as she pushed herself up off the couch and went to fill another cup of tea. Perhaps a mix of turmeric and ginger would help her to think clearly, to see the path before her. Something, some other solution, besides calling her mother.
“Oh my God, I think he’s coming here,” Teddy gasped. “Someone else come up front.”
Alright. Tea would have to wait.
The front door opened, and Violet stepped out of the kitchenette to head down the hallway. The first thing she noticed, as she turned the corner, was the bouquet of flowers. They were all odds and ends, random pieces that were cast offs, gifted by Mrs. Strous to the other owners along the front. That was no surprise to her. In his other hand was a drink caddy from the coffee shop next door.
Neither of those were what made her stop in her tracks. Neither of those things were what made her freeze. Neither of those were what made her gasp.
The dreams. The memories. The fogginess. The fact her shower had been too hot that morning. The fact she kept falling into a slumber that was more like a daze. The intuition that something was coming or happening. The pull of the Full Moon tomorrow in her blood.
The signs were there, perhaps, or not really, but none of them could have prepared her. None of them would have made her ready for the man in front of her.
“Fuck, you grew up pretty,” Henrik breathed out, his eyes locked on hers. “Knew you would, but fuck, Little Witch... Oh fuckin’ hell... I...”
The only noise to escape her lips was a high pitched squeak.
Henrik. Henrik, the man of her quite literal dreams, and her soulmate, was standing in front of her. She didn’t know what to think, or how to breathe. How had he found her? Did he know she was here? Was he here for her? Should she say something? Should she do something?
“Uhh, these are for you,” he said awkwardly, lifting the bouquet towards her. “And these too.”
Violet stared at the offered flowers and coffee, but she couldn’t move. Henrik, here, in her shop. He was in her tattoo shop. She should say something, right? She should... uhh...
“Wow, Vi, talk about rude,” Teddy said casually, coming out of his office like he hadn’t been watching the whole time. “Hey man. I’m Teddy. That gaping bitch is—“
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Henrik growled, then took a step back as he shook his head. “Shit, sorry. That uh... Yeah. I know Violet.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, ignoring the protective way Henrik had just spoken. The shift in him had been immediate, how his shoulders had tensed and his brow had furrowed. In an instant, Henrik had been ready to kill Teddy for his innocent comment. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she knew Henrik’s was doing the same.
Could he smell her from ten paces away? Did he know what just his voice was doing to her? Did he know her legs felt like they might give out?
“Started workin’ at the flower shop next door last week,” he explained. Rather awkwardly, a reminder of the large and gangly boy he had once been, he offered the coffee and flowers to Teddy, who was looking between the pair of them rather quickly. “Uhh, the coffee shop said this is y’alls favorite orders.”
“I’ll just take these to the back,” Teddy said, quickly walking past Violet towards the kitchenette. If she had to guess, he would grab Drake and Berk from their smoke break while he was back there, likely ready to spy on her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, knowing that while they weren’t alone, she still needed the answer.
“Got a job, like I said. Fuckin’ hell, Little Witch, you are so damn pretty. I knew you would be, you always were, but—“
“Cut the shit. I had terrible acne as a kid, and I didn’t have boobs the last time we knew each other.”
Why was she being so mean to him? Why was she lashing out at him? She loved him, had always loved him. He was her other half, her rock. He was always by her side, in everything. He always cared for her, always put her first. Why was she angry with him? Why was she treating him like this?
Why wasn’t she in his arms, sobbing, begging him to never leave her again?
Fuck you and that stupid barn, Henrik. You should trust me when I say you should stay with me. If you can’t trust your witch, then don’t fuckin’ come back.
Oh, right. Because the last time they had talked, she had begged him not to go, and he hadn’t listened. Then, the town had gone up in flames, and her mother, who was convinced the blame would be placed on them, had whisked her out of the town.
“Did you even look for me? Or was this just an accident?”
Henrik’s eyes lowered, and she prepared herself for an apology, but she didn’t need it. So, it was an accident. Had he even looked for her? She had thought she knew what it was like for a werewolf, to have a better half. More often than not, as soon as wolves knew they were bound to someone, they would give into the draw, give into their emotions. No one ever waited long. It was part of why girls didn’t shift until they were older—otherwise, the boys would lose their damn minds waiting until they were ready.
It seemed like shifting for the first time and finding your soulmate was common for girls.
But not for her. She was a witch. She was different. As soon as Henrik had shifted, they had both known what they were to one another. And so, her mother had bound their bond, keeping them separate until she had reached her own maturity.
Only she had never gained control of her magic, and while everyone else their age paired off, they had remained separated.