Black Magic (Howl #4)

by Morse, Jayme

  “Are you ready to go?” Samara asked, smoothing out the black and red striped sweater she was wearing and checking her hair in a small mirror that she kept inside her tote bag. They were heading straight over to Luke’s house so she could finally meet his mother and stepfather, and she wanted to look nice.

  Luke glanced over at her, flashing a wide grin at her. “I’m ready as long as you’re ready.” Even though he looked happy, she could tell from the shakiness in her voice that he was really nervous about her meeting his family. It made her wonder why.

  “Okay, well, I’m good to go,” Samara replied. She led him down the hallway. Just as she was about to go out the doors that led to the student parking lot, a brunette girl who Samara knew was an upper classman stepped in between them.

  “Hey, Luke!” the girl chirped. “I haven’t heard from you in a few months. How’s your mom doing?”

  “She’s good,” Luke replied quietly, lowering his eyes to the ground.

  The girl hesitated before asking, “Do you still have my phone number?”

  “Uh, yeah, I-I think so,” Luke stammered, his eyes darting nervously over at Samara, but not fully meeting her gaze.

  The girl pouted. “Oh, I thought you might have lost it. Maybe you should try using it sometime. In fact, I was thinking that maybe you would want to go to a John Mayer concert with me next month.”

  “I’m busy,” Luke mumbled before opening the door and walking outside. Samara glanced over at the brunette, who stared back at him, with a dumbfounded look on her face. It was obvious that she hadn’t expected Luke to turn her offer down.

  Once they were inside the car, Samara turned to Luke. “That girl has met your mom?”

  Luke glanced over at her. “I didn’t take her to my house to meet my family, if that’s what you’re asking. We did bump into my mom once at the grocery store, though.”

  Even though his explanation made sense, Samara still felt annoyed that the girl had met his mom, whereas she, his mate, still hadn’t yet. It made her wonder if maybe he didn’t want his mom to meet her because he was ashamed of her for some reason.

  She turned to Luke. “I didn’t know you listen to John Mayer.”

  Luke didn’t look at her; he only turned on the car’s ignition. “I used to.”

  “Why don’t you anymore?”

  Lowering his eyes, Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had much time to listen to music lately. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Yeah, it does,” Samara mumbled. “Who was that girl?”

  “Just a girl I used to talk to. It’s not a big deal.” Luke glanced over at her, his green eyes penetrating through hers. “It was before I knew you were my mate, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried,” Samara muttered. She sighed, knowing how paranoid and jealous she probably sounded. “I’m sorry.”

  Glancing out the window, she tried not to think about the other girl because she knew it would just make her jealous. Instead, she turned her thoughts to seeing Seth earlier that day. It was the first time she had seen him—or any of the other Vyka members—since they were in Alaska; she hadn’t been expecting him to look at her with so much hatred.

  How could he hate her, though? That was the only question that seemed to run through her mind now when she thought about him. There was no doubt that she missed him, but was he channeling all of his anger and feelings of betrayal into hatred against her? The idea scared her, and she hated to think that her own brother could harbor these types of emotions towards her.

  After they had driven for a few minutes in silence, Luke glanced over at her. “So, my mom baked for the first time in, like, five years. I hope you like chocolate chip cookies.”

  Samara smiled. “I used to. My mom used to bake the most amazing chocolate chip cookies for Christmas every year. Well, she still does, but . . . Can we still eat them? I thought dogs aren’t supposed to have chocolate because it can kill them.”

  Luke laughed. “If you’re a Basset Hound, maybe . . . but we’re werewolves, Samara. Nothing we eat is going to kill us . . . unless we’re eating something that’s made out of silver, maybe. That might kill us, but I don’t think anyone’s ever tested it . . . or lived to tell the story.”

  “Oh, right.” She was always so busy wondering if something was going to kill her; it made it so easy for her to forget sometimes that the only things that could kill them were being shot with a silver bullet while they were in human form or being attacked the wrong way during a bad fight while they were in werewolf form. It made her feel even more foolish when she remembered that death couldn’t happen that easily . . . or not as easily as it could for mortals, at least.

  Luke pulled onto a narrow dirt road, which was lined with trees, all of which were barren of their leaves. He pulled up to a small log cabin. There was a stream of smoke billowing out of the brick chimney, blending in with the gray, wispy sky above them.

  “So, this is my house,” Luke told her, as he pulled into the stony driveway and turned off the ignition.

  Samara stared at the house for a few moments. It wasn’t the type of house she had been expecting Luke to live in mostly because it felt so . . . homey. It felt like the type of house that should be filled with his family members baking Christmas cookies and decorating handmade ornaments right now.

  But she got the feeling that wasn’t the type of environment Luke had been raised in. It was the only reason she could come up with for why he would have been so reluctant for her to meet his mother and stepfather. They probably liked to be left alone.

  Although, Luke had mentioned that his mom had baked. Why would someone who wasn’t nice go through all the effort of baking cookies to meet her?

  Taking a deep, nervous breath, Samara unbuckled her seatbelt.

  Luke lowered his eyes. “Before we go in the house, there’s something I need to ask you. I know it’s a weird thing to ask, but . . .” He stopped mid-sentence, hesitating about whatever it was he wanted to ask her to do.

  Samara raised her eyebrows at him. Lightly touching his shoulder, she asked, “What is it, Luke?”

  “Don’t tell my parents you’re my mate.”

  Chapter 14

  Luke climbed out of the car and strolled up the path that led to the front door without bothering to explain why he didn’t want her to tell his parents she was his mate. Samara just stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before reluctantly climbing out of the car herself.

  Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, she blocked him out of her thoughts. She tried to figure out why he wanted to keep their relationship a secret from his family. The only explanation she could come up with was that not introducing her had everything to do with her and nothing to do with them—that he was embarrassed of her . . . so embarrassed that he didn’t even want his parents to know that they were mated.

  Samara wondered what was wrong with her.

  What made matters worse was Luke was the first guy who she’d ever dated. Meeting a first boyfriend’s parents was probably awkward enough without the werewolf and mate factors thrown into the mix. Not even being able to mention that they were mates was going to make things even more awkward, considering his mom knew that Luke was a werewolf, since she was one, too.

  She didn’t have much more time to think about it. Once they were up the front steps, Luke swung the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to follow him inside.

  Reluctantly, Samara went inside and glanced around. The brick fireplace was in the center of the living room, which also contained two large, dark brown plush sofas and a matching recliner. The living room opened into the kitchen, which smelled like homemade chicken noodle soup.

  She didn’t see Luke’s mom or his stepfather anywhere.

  “They’re probably out back,” Luke said. “I’ll be right back. Just have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

  Samara offered him a small smile and sat down on one of the sofas, crossing one leg o
ver the other. She glanced around the room, noting that there were no family portraits or anything in the living room that might give her any indication of what his parents were like. As warm and inviting the house had been on the outside, the inside felt cold and impersonal. It made her feel even more awkward about being there at all.

  She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, waiting for Luke and his parents to come back.

  A few moments later, she heard the clicking sound of the back door being opened and voices drifted into the room. Samara tucked a piece of chocolate brown hair behind her ear nervously.

  “Hello, Samara!” Luke’s mom said warmly.

  Samara stood up to greet her, and nearly gasped when she saw what she looked like. His mom was the spitting image of him; she had shoulder-length light brown hair that matched his and emerald green eyes that pierced through hers. His mom gave Samara a wide smile, which she returned.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. err—” Samara stumbled, realizing that she didn’t actually know Luke’s mom’s last name. It probably wasn’t Davenport, like Luke, since she had gotten remarried, but he had never bothered to mention what it was.

  His mom laughed, smoothing out the light brown cardigan she was wearing. “Don’t be silly. You can call me Marnie.”

  “Marnie.” Samara smiled.

  “Why don’t you sit down? Do you like chocolate chip cookies? I baked a few batches because I knew you were coming over,” his mom said, hurrying over to the counter and grabbing a plate that was piled high with large, round cookies.

  Samara took a cookie from the plate and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Any time, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Marnie asked, a smile crossing her face again.

  Samara hesitated. She hated talking about herself in general, but it was even worse since she wasn’t allowed to give Marnie too many details about her relationship with Luke. What was she supposed to say?

  “Have you decided which college you’d like to go to yet?” Marnie prompted her. It was the most obvious conversation starter for a new boyfriend’s mom to ask about, so why did it feel like the most difficult question to Samara?

  “No, I haven’t. I always thought I would go to Boston University because they have a really great marine biology program, but that was before—” Samara caught herself before she said before she found out she was an Alpha and didn’t want to leave the pack or Luke behind.

  She glanced over at Luke, who was holding breath. He must have thought she was going to slip up and say the wrong thing, too . . . even though he was the only one of them who knew why it was the wrong thing to say.

  As his mom nibbled on a piece of cookie, her brow furrowed. “Before what, dear?”

  “Oh, just before I decided that I want to try to find another major,” Samara mumbled, spitting out the first excuse that came to mind.

  “I see.” Marnie studied her face. “You are pretty. What nationality are you?”

  “Um, thanks. My mom’s parents were Italian and Irish. My father’s mother had a European background, I think, and my grandfather—” Samara started to say, feeling refreshed that, for the first time in a long time, someone from the werewolf world didn’t already seem to know everything about her, but Luke interrupted her before she could finish her sentence.

  “Was from Canada,” he explained quickly. His tone sounded like he was trying to convince his mom that this was the truth, but only Samara seemed to pick up on it. At least, if Marnie caught onto the lie, she didn’t say anything to object.

  “Well, that seems to be quite an interesting mix,” Marnie commented. “Very unique in terms of features. I’ve only ever seen that eye color once before.”

  “Thanks,” Samara replied, raising an eyebrow at Luke. He shot her an apologetic look, and she wondered why he had lied about where her grandfather came from. Deciding that she would question him later instead of protesting now, in front of his mother, she just smiled at Marnie.

  His mom the cookie crumbs off her hands with a napkin. “So, my son has told you the truth about what he is, as I understand?”

  “Yeah, well, he didn’t have much of a choice but to tell me.” Samara was about to mention that they were on the same pack as one another, but Luke interjected.

  “Yeah, she saw me change the one day after I got into a fight with someone at school,” Luke explained. “It was really surprising, with her being a human and all.”

  A human? What are you talking about? Samara asked him through mind-speak.

  He lowered his eyes. Just go with it, okay? I’ll explain it to you later.

  Marnie interrupted the mental conversation they were having with each other. “I must say, I am surprised that you’re still here, knowing what you know about my son.”

  “What do you mean?” Samara asked.

  His mom paused, choosing her words carefully. “Did Luke ever tell you about what his father did to me?”

  Samara shook her head and in the sharpest tone she could muster, she said, “No, Luke hasn’t told me much about his father.” Or anything else, she thought, allowing Luke to hear her thoughts, and glancing over at him pointedly.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure he doesn’t like to speak about his father very much,” Marnie replied, an icy tone to her voice. “The man deserved to die.”

  Cringing at the bitterness of Luke’s mom’s words, Samara shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Why hadn’t Luke prepared her for this? He had never said anything to make her think that his mom and biological father had anything less than a normal, happy, loving marriage. Samara knew that he had been killed, but she hadn’t thought his mom was happy about it.

  “You see, my ex-husband was a stereotypical Alpha male,” Marnie went on. “He had a lot of anger problems . . . and he was an extremely jealous person.” She raised her shirt, revealing a massive scar that stretched from her bellybutton to her upper abdominal area; it extended from one rib to the other. “This is one of the scars that Luke’s father left on me.”

  Samara stared back at the mark that covered his mom’s stomach, and cupped a hand around her mouth. If this wasn’t what you would call a battle wound, she wasn’t sure what was.

  When she was finally able to peel her eyes away from the scar and glance into Marnie’s green, empty eyes, she whispered, “I’m so sorry he did that to you.” Pausing, she added, “I’m a little confused about something, though. I didn’t think werewolves could scar.”

  “She saw me get a paper cut once when I was with her, and it healed within minutes,” Luke explained, turning to his mother. Samara knew it was because he was afraid she was going to slip up and say that her own wound—from the night Colby had bit her—had healed overnight. If his mom knew that, she would know Samara was a werewolf, too.

  “That usually is how it works,” Marnie said, glancing over at Samara. “But it doesn’t apply in instances where a male werewolf is the one who is inflicting the scar.”

  “It’s an ancient werewolf thing,” Luke told Samara.

  Marnie nodded. “Ancient—and outdated, to be quite honest—but it’s the way it is. Back in the olden days, right around the time people were just beginning to settle in America, it was common for werewolf men to mark their women with scars.” Pausing, she asked, “Has Luke explained very much to you about werewolf mating?”

  “He’s told me quite a bit,” Samara mumbled, unsure if she was giving his mom an answer that wouldn’t make her question everything. She glanced over at Luke, who nodded, and she knew she’d said the right thing.

  “Since werewolves can only have one mate, they’d mark the women who they chose to have as companions,” Marnie explained. “You see, you only develop a mark when you’re with your chosen mate. When two werewolves are companions, there is nothing on their body to identify them as the other’s territory . . . so werewolves would commonly claim other werewolves’ mates, unless there was a scar.”

  Staring out the window, Marnie’s eyes glassed over. “Luk
e’s father was a few hundred years old when we first met. He was one of those old school werewolves . . . the type who believed that one’s mate was property, in a sense. When he saw me speaking to another werewolf—a man who I only had a platonic relationship with—he did this to mark me as his own.”

  Samara tried to absorb what Marnie was telling her. Luke’s father had been so jealous that he had inflicted physical pain so that no one else would try to be with her. Samara glanced over at Luke; his face was stony, so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His thoughts didn’t stream into her mind, either.

  Luke definitely had jealousy issues of his own, but he would never do something like this to her, would he?

  Samara doubted it. If he was going to hurt her, he would have already given her a scar. And he didn’t have a reason to give her a scar, anyway; they were eventually going to get married and mark once they got married. At least, she assumed they were going to.

  “So, this is the result of what would happen if you were with a werewolf who isn’t your mate,” Marnie explained, snapping Samara out of her thoughts.

  “Luke’s father wasn’t your mate, then?” Samara asked, confused. She had been under the assumption that Luke’s parents had been mated to one another. It was surprising to learn that they hadn’t been.

  Marnie shook her head. “No, he wasn’t my mate, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Even if he had been my mate, he still would have attacked me because that was just the type of person he was. He may have used marking me with a scar as an excuse for what he did, but I know he wouldn’t have been able to control his anger otherwise.”

  “What happened to your mate? Did he die?” Samara asked quietly. She was afraid that she was overstepping her boundaries by asking his mom such a personal question, but the look in Marnie’s eyes told her that she was fine with a tell-all.

  “I never found my mate. I can only assume that I was never given one.” His mom shrugged. Even though it seemed like this should have been a sensitive topic for her to discuss, she mostly seemed okay talking about the fact that fate had never paired her up with anyone.