Guest Post | When at War with Witches by Holly Day

A couple of days ago, When at War with Witches was released! 🥳 

I have this problem where I write a story, thinking I’m writing a standalone, and then completely messing up by creating a world I don’t want to leave. It happens all the time, and this time, it’s no different. 

I had this idea. I wanted to write evil witches, a story where the MCs came from different sides of a conflict but were forced to work through it. I did that. We have a witch and an alpha werewolf forced into an arranged mating. 

We sprinkle it with cookies, and we have a story, right? (We’re celebrating Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day.) 

Right! Only…there are so many witches and shifters, and I can’t just leave them, can I? So now I have a problem. When will I find the time to write more stories?? 

If you’re in the mood for an arranged mating, shifters, witches, and cookies, check this out!  

When at War with Witches

Curses, monsters and arranged matings!

Rourke Flint, alpha of the Flint Pack, is sick of being at war with witches, sick of watching his friends die. So sick of it, he’d traded a piece of land for a witch to take as his mate in hopes of building an alliance. But werewolves mate for life, and now he’ll be forever tied to whichever witch they’re handing over. 

Ezra Inaxx Kuxium Enizax is a useless witch and the one the clan decides to sacrifice to the monsters. He’s never met a shifter before, but he’s heard the stories. Deviants. Beasts. Giants. And now he’ll spend the rest of his life with one of them. 

Rourke soon realizes the witches don’t want a treaty, and Ezra was sent to him as an insult. Ezra knows his clan never intended for there to be peace, but Rourke isn’t nearly as cruel as he was led to believe, and wouldn’t peace be a pleasant change? What if he could give Rourke enough information to achieve it?

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Gay Paranormal Romance:  52,872 words

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Chapter 1

Rourke Flint looked at the small blue diamond-shaped pill Ulric, his second in command and best friend, handed him.

“To get you through.” Ulric grimaced.

Fuck. Rourke rubbed the hand not holding the pill over his face. Hell. Shit. Motherfucking witches.

“Yo only have to fuck her once.”

Rourke looked at him. “Yeah, and then never touch another living being ever again.”

Ulric winced. “Sorry.”

He’d most likely have to touch her more than once. Mating bonds were strong, and while they didn’t have to have sex, he’d have to smell her. Hold her.

And witches stank of rot.

Rourke blew out a breath and shook his head. It had to be done. They’d been at war for decades, had emptied all their resources—both monetary and relationship-wise—and now they’d finally managed to push the witches back. Again. They had to ensure peace, had to prevent them from instigating a new reign of terror.

He fucking hated witches. Power-hungry vultures. Never satisfied with what they had.

Shifters bonding with witches was an ancient tradition they’d long ago left behind, but Rourke was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of watching his people die. Tired of investing all their time and means into a war with no end.

They’d won back their territory, which they had many times before, but this time, he’d demanded a mate as a bounty. If he mated one of the witches, it would keep them from attacking. Right? It was how they’d ensured peace in the olden days.

He let out another shaky breath. He wished he could have someone do this in his stead, but it had to be him.

He was the leader. He had to make the sacrifice.

“You only have to get through it once. Fuck her, bite her, and then it’s done. We can lock her up in one of the dungeons, and you can continue with your life as if it never happened.”

Rourke grimaced. It wouldn’t be as if it never had happened. Mates had to be physically close or they’d lose their minds. Or he would. He didn’t know if it affected witches the same way. A mate bond was magically enforced monogamy, a need to keep your other half close, to touch, scent, and protect. He’d never been one to share, but he’d always had a healthy sex drive. Now he suspected he’d be resigned to his right hand for the rest of his, hopefully, long life.

It would be worth it. Had to be worth it.

The one advantage they had over the witches, other than their size and physical strength, was their longevity. Witches had human lifespans, werewolves did not. But by binding himself to a witch, he’d tie her to his life force. She’d live for as long as he did. She’d die when he died.

“You’ve been with a female before, right?” The way Ulric scrunched his face would’ve made him laugh on any other day, now he only nodded. He wasn’t opposed to bedding women, but if he had a choice, which he’d always had up until today, he picked men ninety-five times out of a hundred. Once in a blue moon, he came across a female he wanted to be with, and when it happened, he was. If she was willing.

What kind of woman volunteered to be his till the end of time? Witches were bigots and homophobes, so he was sure it would be a woman. Same-sex couples weren’t allowed in the covens.

What did it say about her wanting to give up her life in the clan and to come and live on pack land? Maybe she wanted a long life. Perhaps it was reward enough.

Whatever her reasons, he had to fuck her. Panic clawed at him. He couldn’t do this. Witches smelled like walking corpses. How would he be able to get it up? He glanced at the pill in his hand again.

Ulric must’ve seen the flare of trepidation because he slid an arm over Rourke’s shoulders. “Hey. It’ll be fine. You asked for a volunteer, and they have one. Whoever she is, she wants this. And who wouldn’t?” He jostled him a little. “You’re a catch, and she gets to move away from all the other witches. It’s a double win for her. You’re the one suffering.”

Sometimes he wondered if Ulric could read his mind.

“Hell, she might know a spell to make you enjoy it.” He grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Right.” Rourke pulled in a deep breath and tucked the blue pill in his pocket. He’d take it later. He refused to meet the witch congregation with a hard-on.

Witches were ugly fuckers. Or maybe they weren’t. They looked human, but they were often small, fine-limbed, and they always had long hair with braids and feathers and shit. Not to mention the zillion piercings and tattoos. Shifters couldn’t have piercings. They ripped when they shifted. Tattoos healed during shifts too.

He believed the tattoos were connected to magic, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about the piercings or the stuff they put in their hair either. Maybe they were purely ornamental, maybe they held power somehow. One bonus of having a witch in their home was the knowledge they could gain. He’d be the dominant partner. He could force his mate to submit to him and to answer his questions.

“Ready to go?”

Nope, not ready at all. He sent Ulric a pleading look. He’d never let anyone else see him like this, but Ulric was his oldest friend.

“We’ll get drunk after, okay? As soon as they’re off our land, we’ll drown our sorrows.”

Rourke nodded. He couldn’t reply since there was a lump blocking his throat. Fucking hell.

* * * *

The car lurched to a stop, and the seatbelt cut into Ezra Inaxx Kuxium Enizax’s chest.

“Stop your crying.”

He touched his cheek. He wasn’t crying, was he? He’d learned long ago not to cry. His cheek was dry. He wasn’t crying.

Looking into the front seat, he realized Shixyll—he’d long ago lost the right to call her mom—was glaring at Jiprix. Ezra’s eyebrows moved in surprise as he took in Jiprix’s glassy eyes. He might be the closest thing Ezra had to a friend, but he hadn’t believed he’d ever shed a tear over him. And he hadn’t, they were still pooled in his eyes.

“This way he can be useful.” Shixyll turned her head and glared at Ezra. He didn’t say anything. There was no use. She never allowed him to speak, and he’d been cursed or hit enough times to know it wasn’t worth it to try.

Ezra was a useless witch. He had next to no powers, and he was never allowed to learn anything about their plans or be part of any decisions. They never sent him to battle because he had no combat skills. He couldn’t hurt a fly with his magic—he’d tried. Many, many times.

Jiprix could turn a creature inside out without channeling power from a familiar. He was useful, but Ezra was not.

“We’re still sacrificing one of our own to the beasts.” Whatever had made Jiprix sentimental was gone now. His voice was clipped but firm.

“Spoils of war. They’d have demanded more land if we hadn’t agreed, and losing him doesn’t weaken us. It’s the best use we have of him.”

What would it have been like to have someone in his life who cared for him? What if he’d been hugged instead of shoved away? A caress instead of a slap. He had no illusions being among the monsters would make his life better, the opposite. Witches didn’t have claws or super strength. They weren’t huge, hulking creatures fit for nightmares.

He didn’t know if he’d survive the punishment they’d give him for disobeying or not complying fast enough. He always tried to do what people asked of him, but for some reason, he always failed. He had the scars to prove it. He didn’t think an enraged werewolf would leave scars, they’d simply take his head. And maybe it was for the best.

Maybe his stay with the monsters would be short.

“We’re here.” Shixyll opened the car door without so much as a glance in Ezra’s direction.

Jiprix sighed. “Do what they tell you. It might not be too bad, and… eh… don’t fight him.”

Ice filled Ezra’s veins. Right. Don’t fight. Let the leader degrade and bite him to buy his clan time to gather their forces for a new attack. And should Ezra happen to die during said attack… No one would care.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and opened the door. Forcing Shixyll to come get him would not be good.

His legs shook as he put his feet on the gravelly ground. In front of him was a wall of beasts in giant human shapes. They all looked to be seven feet tall, the few females were a little shorter but not by much.

He’d once heard they were twenty-five members in the pack, about the same size as the clan, but looking at them now, it felt as if they were a hundred and twenty-five.

Ezra only reached to their chests. He allowed his eyes to slide over them, trying to see which one was the leader, but it was hard to tell who was the most powerful. They didn’t have piercings or braids to signal their strength or status. Without thinking he sucked in the ring he had at the center of his lower lip, the one indicating he was of age and his powers were fully manifested. It also told everyone he hardly had any powers since it was the only lip piercing he had.

His gaze landed on a tall man with harsh eyes and a gaunt body. His clothes hung off him, indicating he’d once been much more powerful. One of the prisoners? They had been forced to give up their prisoners. He didn’t know how many there had been, but he’d heard whispers about it when he’d fed the clan.

Ezra didn’t know what new tactic the shifters had used to win back their land plus some additional areas, but whatever they’d done, it had required Shixyll to trade the prisoners. She’d traded them for the additional piece of land and allowed the monsters to keep their original boundary, but they’d somehow also persuaded her to agree to trade him.

Maybe it hadn’t taken much effort on their part. He didn’t think she’d be willing to make any sacrifices to keep him safe.

“Alpha Flint.” Shixyll didn’t bow her head as she addressed the man in front of her. He was massive, but the man next to him was bigger. Ezra’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow despite his mouth having gone dry. How could they be so enormous and still move as fast as they did? He’d never seen one move, but he’d heard the tales.

“Shixyll.” Flint didn’t say anything else, but his gaze flicked first to Jiprix then to Ezra. It was the right order to acknowledge them. Maybe he sensed their power, or maybe he simply looked at their braids and piercings. He’d always been told shifters were stupid, more animal than human, but maybe they understood magic.

“Where is my wife?”

Wife? Ezra’s eyes widened. Oh fuck. No, no, no. Was he expecting a wife? No one had told him. Without thinking he took a small step back.

“We never agreed to give you a wife.” Shixyll grinned evilly, and for a second Ezra shut his eyes. She was openly disrespecting him. It was insulting to give him a worthless witch, but she’d taken it one step further and given him a male. He should’ve realized, but somewhere he’d heard shifters weren’t picky about the gender of their bed partners. It was the one intriguing thing he’d picked up on.

He should’ve known it wasn’t true.

“You promised me a mate.”

“I did, and I’m giving you Ezra.” She yanked at his arm, making him stumble since he hadn’t been prepared.

“A male?” Amber eyes swept over his face but didn’t linger long enough to meet his gaze. Ezra assumed the shifters knew witch clans were run by women. Of course they did. Flint had negotiated with Shixyll after all.

“You don’t care what you stick your dick into, do you?” Shixyll cackled. “Take it or leave it.”

Ezra flinched, and he did nothing to hide his reaction. Shixyll might punish him, but he doubted it would be worse than what Flint would do to him.

Ezra held his breath as he waited for an explosion. Would the war restart right here? Ezra almost expected it to. Maybe it had been Shixyll’s plan all along—bring Ezra here, disrespect Flint so much he had no choice but to retaliate, and then it would start all over again.

Flint snorted. “Right. Let’s get it over with then. Are you waiting here until it’s done?”

Shixyll raised her chin, and her braid cuffs clinked. “Yes. He’s ours if you don’t fulfill the mating, and we’re not leaving here until we have proof.”

Bile rose in Ezra’s throat. She’d wait to see him properly humiliated, to have the entire pack see him debased. His eyes burned.

A large hand curled around his upper arm. “Right, give us ten minutes.”

For a second, Ezra considered fighting. But fighting never helped, so he shut his eyes and allowed Flint to pull him away from the crowd. Perhaps he should be glad he didn’t claim him in front of everyone.