Seer: A Werelock Evolution Series Duet (Book 1 of 2)

by Hettie Ivers

  Mike came into view. He was waiting for me in the clearing up ahead, leaning against a tree, a lazy grin on his face.

  Kill him! Eliminate the threat.

  I pushed my wolf down, forcing his claws to retract as I reminded him—and myself—that no one could claim a seer. She wasn’t ours. We couldn’t protect her by attempting to lay claim to her. Staying calm and acting smart about this was the only way to safeguard Lauren.

  Mike greeted me with a smug raised brow. “That was quite an intense first kiss for a guy long renowned for the nickname ‘pack priest.’ ”

  I snapped in an instant, my eyes shifting, my claws coming back out. “Stay out of her head.”

  “Easy.” He held his palms up. “Wasn’t in it. If you don’t know by now that I can keep tabs on people without listening to their thoughts, then your boy Kaleb wasn’t doing his job very well.”

  His dig at Kaleb, my Reinoso pack’s deceased head of security detail, did nothing to cool my beast’s ire. Mike served Kaleb’s role within his own pack—the Salvatella pack. While it was a critical role within any pack, it was a tedious task that should’ve been beneath Mike, given his birthright. Many of us had assumed for years that it was a role Mike’s former Alpha and late second cousin, Gabriel Salvatella, had forced upon him. Yet now, with Gabe gone, I wondered if it wasn’t more of a choice Mike had made for himself—in an attempt to retain behind-the-scenes control over everything involving his own pack as well as their rivals. Mike had always been far more powerful and cunning than he preferred to let on.

  Still, he was also young and foolish—much like his new Alpha, Raul. Because his next jab went too far.

  “Maybe it was a good thing Maribel took Kaleb out before she left the ether, huh?”

  Mike’s bloody, cleanly severed left arm was in my grasp before either of us had processed what my wolf had done.

  Neither Mike nor I spoke as we watched his arm reattach itself: the muscles, tendons, nerves, arteries, and veins magically fusing together once more. He healed quickly, I noted—faster than the average werelock. Confirming my suspicions about the extent of his power.

  He hadn’t wanted my assistance, but I’d insisted upon holding his arm in place at the very least to ensure proper alignment during the reattachment. Ultimately, he’d grudgingly relented and allowed me that while utilizing his own magic to speed the healing and assuring me he’d have his pack’s werelock doctor, Rafe, take a look at it.

  I had also apologized. Several uncomfortable times. Despite my wolf’s increasing control, I was still human enough to regret my childish behavior, and clearheaded enough to recognize a critical political misstep when I’d taken one. My pack couldn’t afford any new bad blood with the Salvatella pack right now. I didn’t relish the thought of my Alpha Milena hearing about this incident. Or Alcaeus—my lifelong best friend who’d recently defected from his own pack (because of me) to serve as head Beta of the Salvatella pack. But most of all, I was driven to apologize and make amends for Lauren’s sake.

  Mike knew that I had kissed her. He also knew I’d attacked her last three dates. It would be all too easy for Mike to retaliate against me by harming Lauren. I couldn’t let my wolf’s unbalanced reactions continue to put her in danger. Which reconfirmed what I’d known for weeks: I needed to get my wolf far, far away from the seer.

  “Look, I’m sorry for what I said about Kaleb.” Mike flexed his fingers and rotated the wrist of his reattached arm. “It was uncalled for.”

  I nodded my acknowledgement of his apology. I wouldn’t give him more than that, considering the lack of sincerity behind his words.

  “But I won’t abide your blatant hypocrisy with regard to the seer, Kai. In the first place, it’s been established between packs for centuries that seers’ gifts are fair game to all—their minds freely accessible to any and every werelock who desires a look.”

  He spoke the truth, and while the human in me knew what Mike said was inevitable, my vision ran blood red nonetheless at the thought of other werelocks entering Lauren’s mind. My eyes shifted, and I was tempted to give in to my wolf’s demand that we rip Mike’s head from his shoulders and punch it through his thoracic cavity.

  “Now, I, for one, don’t approve of the way seers have been treated over the years.” Mike paused to rotate his reattached shoulder. “I’m convinced all the entering and tampering with their minds can interfere with their visions. I also think werelocks showing up and intimidating seers, demanding answers and insight, results in too much fear to allow for unbiased interpretation of visions.” He retracted and extended his arm at the elbow in rapid succession. “In fact, I wholeheartedly disagree with the entire manner in which seers have been subjugated for all these centuries, and I’d very much like to see things be different for Lauren and this new generation.”

  Well, that was quite the crock of shit—even for a Salvatella. No doubt Mike’s mission was to kill Lauren and every other new seer who came along should their visions of the Salvatella pack’s precious new weapon—the Rogue Sloane—be in any way negative.

  I forced a dry laugh, when all I wanted was to rip Mike’s heart from his chest and let my wolf eat it. “Since when are you the champion of seers, Mike?”

  “Since early childhood, actually.” Seemingly satisfied that his limb was healed, he crossed his arms over his chest. “But my ancient history is none of your business. Whether you believe it or not, I am sincere in my desire to keep Lauren safe.”

  While I scented no lie, I also knew Mike would be skilled enough to mask it. And yet, a small part of me believed him after observing his interaction with Lauren today. Perhaps it made me the ultimate fool to fall prey to the crazy jealous musings of my wolf, but I couldn’t shake the growing fear that any desire Mike had to keep Lauren safe stemmed from the fact that he, too, desired her—as a woman. Why wouldn’t he? That innocent smile of hers could give the most devout priest an erection. Then there was the issue of her constantly hard nipples … not to mention those damned skirts she liked to wear to work at the coffee shop.

  When I remained silent, Mike said, “I’m hoping you’ll be honorable enough to admit the truth to yourself, if not to me, that I have demonstrated more care and respect for the sanctity of Lauren’s mind than you have. By far.”

  Kill him now! He wants what’s ours.

  “Lauren struggles to trust her own instincts enough as it is,” Mike continued, revealing that while he may have shown care, he’d definitely invaded the seer’s mind more than a few times. “I fear she’ll never properly develop her abilities if there’s too much werelock interference before she even gains a handle on her gifts.”

  A low growl escaped me. The arctic beast rattled in my chest, demanding to be let out. I’d known for several weeks that Mike and his men were watching Lauren—and that it was likely my fault for drawing their attention to her. So I’d sent the small team of werelocks who’d been on the seer search mission here with me back to Brazil, hoping it would send a message to my pack as well as Raul’s pack and others that Lauren wasn’t an important discovery—that she wasn’t the next great seer we’d all been waiting the past decade for. But Mike had obviously done more than just watch Lauren. Because he seemed to know what I’d already determined: she was the one.

  Which likely explained why he’d gone from hiding in the shadows of her mind to boldly crossing the line and inserting himself into Lauren’s daily schedule by pretending to be a transfer student from Oxford here for a Ph.D. program.

  “Then why are you still here, Mike?” I called his bluff. “Leave if you know that’s what’s best for her.” Leave before my wolf carves you into tiny pieces and disrupts the truce between our packs.

  “Raul sent me here for the same reason Milena sent you: to observe. My mission is to determine how well Lauren’s abilities are developing and report back on whether I think she’s the next great seer—the one who will lead the emerging generation.” He took a foolish step closer, drawing up to his full hei
ght, his challenging posture bringing my beast dangerously closer to the surface. “Want to know what I’m not here for?” His wolf breached the surface at last, his eyes swirling with gold. “I am not here to attack every one of Lauren’s dates until she’s the undateable town pariah. Nor am I here to enter Lauren’s dreams and play out my dark sexual fantasies. Can you claim the same?”

  Fuck. Shame flooded me, followed swiftly by self-loathing. And a renewed desire to kill and dismember Mike.

  I’d covered my tracks, hadn’t I? I’d erased every one of those memories from Lauren’s mind: memories of each time I’d slipped up and allowed my wolf’s obsession with the girl to overrule my better sense and sound judgment. One too many times, I’d taken things too far—entering the seer’s dreams in an attempt to calm my beast’s desire for her and get her out of our system. I’d known it was wrong. I’d known it was a mistake. But my wolf was sick—had always been sick—and his poison was spreading, taking over me.

  “I am nothing like my cousin Gabe was,” Mike asserted. “But I do share some of his unique gifts.”

  I knew he referred to Gabe’s great talent as an empath.

  “Don’t think I haven’t sensed your hunger for the seer—your lust as well as your bloodlust,” he hissed. “Don’t think I don’t feel how much you yearn to tear me apart at this very moment.” He paused, and his volume dropped to a whisper. “Go on. Do it. Rip both arms off this time. Give me a reason to go to Milena and tell her everything you’ve been up to here.”

  “Perhaps I’ll tear asunder more than your limbs,” I snarled. “What’s to stop you from going to Milena and telling her anyway?”

  “I value the fragile armistice between our packs as much as you do, Kai. If you were in better control of your wolf, you’d recognize that, just as you’d recognize that it is you who is the greater threat to Lauren’s safety. My wolf wants to protect her.” His features pinched with disgust. “Yours indulges in fantasies of ripping her open—of feeding on her blood and fear.”

  “My wolf wants to protect her as well!” It was the truth—mostly. The manner in which my wolf wanted to protect Lauren was simply a bit more complicated than that of the average wolf.

  “Then get him the hell away from her. Everyone in the werelock world knows of your past reputation—of your twisted preferences. You were never known for being gentle with the opposite sex, and it has been over a century,” he stressed, “since you were with a female of your own species. Lauren is human. Human. Does your demented wolf have the slightest sense how easily he could break her?”

  I couldn’t honestly say, because I wasn’t sure myself. Deep down, I knew Mike was right. I couldn’t risk my wolf harming Lauren. While I believed my wolf was driven to protect the little seer, I also knew that my wolf wasn’t well. Wasn’t normal. Had never been safe.

  “I assure you, I have no intention of dishonoring the memory of my departed mate by breaking my vow of celibacy. Not now, not ever. And as I’ve just informed Lauren, I am leaving; she won’t be seeing me again. I suggest we come to an agreement that you, along with the rest of your pack, will leave the seer alone as well so that she can properly develop her abilities without werelock interference—as you’ve indicated is best for her.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’ve recovered your senses enough to do the right thing.” He retreated a step. Then another. “However, I can’t agree to leave, or to withdraw members of my pack just yet.”

  Typical. “’Course not.” I chuckled without humor. “Thank you for confirming what I already knew—that your little speech about wanting to protect the seers, and allow Lauren time alone so that she might properly develop her abilities, was first-rate bullshit.”

  “Not so; that’s all still true. But Lauren will never properly develop her abilities if she’s dead.”

  My canines extended; my claws came out. Kill him. Eliminate the threat. Hearing the words ‘dead’ and ‘Lauren’ in the same sentence was enough to make me almost lose complete control and shift. “What’s that supposed to—”

  “Emil is on his way here. I got word last night. He’s coming to see Lauren.”

  9

  Lauren

  After a cold shower and some stale pizza, I took a passive stab at studying. When that proved futile, I broke out the wine. Surprisingly, wine didn’t help me study any better. Neither did ice cream.

  So I clicked on the television and surfed crappy cable channels as I tried to forget the taste of Kai’s tongue in my mouth and the feel of his hands groping my ass. I quietly hoped that the red fingerprint marks I’d noted upon getting out of the shower would turn to bruises by morning. Something was definitely wrong with me.

  What wasn’t wrong with me?

  “I’m a Wednesday child,” I mumbled aloud to my second glass of wine. “Spirits seek me out and darkness follows me.” I wished Granny Nina were still around to give me guidance about the increasing number of ghosts I’d been sensing recently.

  As I tipped my glass back, the lights flickered. “Back off, Casper. You don’t get to say when I’ve had enough to drink. And thanks for nothing, earlier,” I grumbled under my breath. “Fucking cock block.”

  God, I was losing it—arguing with ghosts. I had to get better at shutting these spirits out.

  The lights flickered again. Then the television screen went out.

  “I was watching that,” I protested, even though I couldn’t for the life of me recall what I’d actually had on. “Quit being a jerk. He’s gone. Never coming back. That’s what you wanted, right?”

  My phone buzzed atop the coffee table. I groaned as “Babs” lit up the screen. Of all the people I didn’t want to talk to right now. Transferring my wineglass to my left hand, I snatched the phone up in my right, determined to get the pain over with.

  “Hi, Ma.”

  “Lauren? Is that you?”

  “I’m studying. You have three minutes.”

  “Three minutes? You only have three minutes for the woman who spent seventeen hours in labor birthing you?”

  “It’s what I just said.” I shook my head at the ceiling as her protracted gasp of indignation traveled through the phone line. I’d been sassing my mom since the day I’d spoken my first word. That she could even pretend to still be shocked by it was a testament to the alternate reality she insisted on living in.

  “I can’t believe how you—”

  “Spit it out, Ma.”

  She huffed. “Fine. I ran into an old friend online the other day who has a—”

  “Uh-uh. It’s a hard no. Gotta go—”

  “Lauren!” she squawked. “You don’t even know what I was going to—”

  “You’ve been scouring Jewish mom matchmaking groups on Facebook again.”

  “That is not—”

  “I checked your activity two days ago.”

  “Fine.” Another huff. “Since when is it a crime to want to see my only daughter happily settled?”

  “Since I’m twenty-one and still in college.”

  “If you wait too long, your eggs won’t be any good.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I gotta get back to—”

  “He’s pre-med, Lauren.” Her voice dropped an octave at “pre-med,” like it was the rarest form of Jewish male unicorn a mother could hope for.

  “Good for him. Still a hard no.”

  “It’s one date! I already said you’d go.”

  I sucked in a breath, parroting her indignant gasp from a moment ago. “Babs, I am not—”

  “You owe me this!” she shouted, sounding completely wound up and out of breath all of a sudden. “It’s one date. I’ll email you the particulars.”

  The line went dead—her typical dramatic cop-out. Snickering to myself, I dialed her right back.

  “You’re going!” she shout-answered.

  “Ma, I’ve been meaning to ask you something about Grandma.”

  “Don’t change the subject. He’s pre-med.”

  �
�Did Granny Nina leave behind a diary—some kind of a journal for me?”

  Rare silence filled the line between us. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. The week before she passed, Grandma mentioned something to me about a journal you had that she wanted me to read when I was old enough. I guess I kinda forgot about it over the years, but now—”

  “Who have you been talking to?” she demanded.

  Damn. That felt like a yes. “Eh, just a few more ghosts than usual lately,” I evaded.

  “Necromancy is no joking matter.” Her tone had sharpened, even as her volume lowered. “The occult is a dangerous tool. You don’t see them, you can’t help—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Did she actually leave me a journal? How could you keep that from me?”

  “Have they identified themselves?”

  “I want the journal, Ma. It’s messed up that you’ve kept it from me.”

  “Lauren, answer my question. Have any of them introduced themselves?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The ghosts. Have any identified themselves? Claimed to have known your grandma?”

  As annoyed as I felt over her keeping Granny Nina’s journal from me, a giggle bubbled up in my chest at the absurdity of her question. But then it died in my throat when the lights flickered and the television came back on.

  I felt the blood draining from my face, making me feel lightheaded. “I gotta go. Send me that journal.”

  “No. We need to talk about this.”

  “Send it.”

  “I don’t have it. That book was cursed. I burned it ages ago.”

  Fear and outrage made my heart pound against my ribs. I set my wine down and took a deep breath. She had to be bluffing. The code of guilt my mom was ruled by would never allow her to destroy something her own mother had left for me.

  “You’re lying,” I challenged.

  She gasped. “How dare you accuse—”