The Bewitching Doctors second chance romance

The shack

I watched the silver wolf vanish into the trees, my breath still heavy on my lips. Her scent clung to me—intoxicating, unforgettable. Vanilla and pineapple, with a hint of wildness that made my blood thrum with need. My pulse still thundered in my ears, and my skin buzzed where she had touched me.

Kael stirred inside me, equal parts thrilled and irate. "You fool," he snarled. "You should’ve mated with her. Marked her. Claimed what’s ours."

I sighed, my gaze fixed on the spot where she’d disappeared. The sea breeze tousled my hair and kissed my skin, but the chill did nothing to cool the fire burning within me. "This isn’t about conquering," I said, my voice edged with steel. "It’s about trust. She’s been through too much. She needs to choose me freely."

Kael growled, low and frustrated. "She already has. You felt it—her body, her scent. She wants us."

"That doesn’t mean she’s ready," I snapped, my jaw tight. "You think I didn’t feel her tremble? That I didn’t taste her fear laced between the desire? She’s ours, yes—but I won’t be like him. I won’t be another monster."

Kael went quiet for a moment, brooding. Then: "I would’ve done it differently."

"I know," I said softly, almost smiling. "That’s why I didn’t let you."

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Then Kael’s voice returned, softer, but no less determined.

"We wait, then. But not forever."

"No," I agreed, running a hand through my golden-brown hair. "Not forever."

The faint salt of ocean mist kissed my lips, but all I could taste was her. I had waited this long.

I would wait a little longer.

And when the time came, I would make sure she knew that I wasn’t like Ezekial.

I wasn’t there to claim her by force, or hurt her.

I was there to cherish her.

A bond had ignited, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Seryna-

I shifted back into my wolf form, breathless and wide-eyed. Rose yipped with delight, her joy radiating like sunlight through my chest.

“Did you see him? Did you feel that?” Rose practically squealed. “That was our mate!”

My thoughts were a whirlwind. I could still feel his lips pressed against mine—the pressure, the taste of him, like dark chocolate and something richer, forbidden. The warmth of his strong arms wrapped around me, the scent of salt and spice and something darker that made my belly tighten.

Who was he? What kind of wolf could move like that? Disappear into thin air?

He had to be someone powerful—someone different.

My fears and doubts tugged at me, reminding me of every heartbreak I had endured, of my mother’s fate, of Ezekial’s cruelty. But that kiss—it had silenced all of that, even if just for a moment. The immediate rush of pleasure, the way my body had melted into his touch, the hunger I didn’t even know I had. It was overwhelming.

I had wrapped my arms around his neck instinctively, and the kiss had deepened until he pulled away, leaving me breathless. Then he had vanished like smoke, his voice echoing on the sea breeze: “We’ll meet again, little mate.”

The words rang in my ears, low and velvet-smooth, long after the waves had reclaimed the silence.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, Rose and I raced through the forest with powerful strides. The wind whipped through my fur, the scent of the ocean lingering in my nose. Questions swirled through my mind, but instinct pushed me onward. We needed to return. It wasn’t safe here.

We reached the apartment quickly. Maria was waiting, concern flickering in her eyes.

“We have to go,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. “The ball is approaching. We can’t miss it.”

And though my body was still tingling from the kiss, my heart beating fast with both fear and exhilaration, I knew one thing for certain—my life had just changed.

Forever.

We didn’t have much time. Maria and I moved swiftly through the village, avoiding as many lingering eyes as possible. The air felt heavy with old ghosts and unfinished stories, the scent of smoke and pine clinging to the fading daylight.

Our final stop was the shack—my mother's shack.

The moment I stepped inside, the scent of mildew and dust hit me like a blow, mingled with the faintest trace of wolfsbane the main ingredient of Banesheart, sharp and bitter.

But something called me deeper into the room. There, sitting untouched on the rotted wood table, was a small wooden box etched with golden runes. On top, a letter addressed simply: Seryna.

I picked up the letter with trembling fingers. Before I could open it, my eyes were drawn to the far wall.

There, hung a photograph I hadn’t seen in years, I thought she had destroyed it. My breath caught.

My mother—vibrant and young—sat in a blue sundress, red hair flowing like a river down her back. I sat in her lap, all gap-toothed smiles and little black pigtails tied with white bows. My father stood tall behind us, dark hair cropped close, a warrior’s band on his arm, his features nearly a mirror of my own.

Grief hit me like a wave, crashing through my chest. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a family. What we used to look like—whole.

Maria gently placed a hand on my shoulder, but said nothing.

“I thought there’d be nothing worth taking,” I whispered. My voice cracked like dry wood. “But I was wrong.”

We took the box, the letter, and the photo and left without another word.

Luna Isolde watched them drive off into the night, the taillights of the car disappearing down the winding path. Her lips curled into a thin, bitter smile. She turned slowly and walked toward the morgue.

Eliza stood inside, gently preparing Helena’s body for her final send-off, brushing her hair with reverence.

Veyla’s footsteps echoed against the tile as her guards followed behind her.

“Stop her,” she ordered, voice cold.

Eliza spun around, horrified. “What are you doing?! She needs to be sent to the Moon Goddess, as tradition dictates!”

Isolde stepped forward, her tone slicing through the room. “I need her more than the Moon Goddess does.”

She looked down at Helena’s still form, her expression twisting into something vile. She leaned close, lips brushing the woman’s ear with a whisper only the dead could hear.

“You’ll help me bring your daughter home… won’t you, Helena?”

Her men looked unsettled, but none dared speak. Isolde’s mind was already spinning with a thousand possibilities. She would raise every ghost, violate every law, and strike every nerve to get Seryna back.

This wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.