by Mary Hughes
Although, just because he hated his father didn’t mean he had to hate all witches, did he? Of course not. Hating all witches based on his father abandoning his mother and him would just be psychotic.
It was okay, what he felt for Sophia. Okay that his fingers ached with the need to touch her, that his mouth throbbed with the need to kiss her. Definitely not hate. Was the opposite of hate. Was lov…
Not hate. Right. Done deal. Glad that was settled.
Of course, the rest of the pack might not be so easily persuaded to accept her, especially after they found out she was a witch. Most wolves could care less about the Witches’ Council as long as it didn’t impact their day-to-day lives, but this mating was a Council taboo and might carry an even bigger price tag. He was going to have to find out what the penalty was one of these days.
Mason continued, “But the mate has to hunt as a wolf.”
Okay, that might be a problem. Even if there was something in the magic shop to turn Sophia into a wolf, there was almost no chance they’d find it in that clutter before the Hunt. If only he didn’t have that deadline. Why did it have to be tonight?
It didn’t. He hit his forehead, hard, nearly flattening it. “By my sire’s bloody paws, why should I cave to this so-called representative group? If it’s the usual five, I’ll just go convince them they’ve made a mistake.”
“You mean talk them down?” Sophia said.
“Well…”
Mason snorted. “Wolves, talk?”
“So you’ll fight them?” Sophia folded her arms. It plumped her cleavage in that little white top most enticingly. “Five against one? You already got hurt fighting just two. Noah, please. Don’t.”
He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. “A very wise woman once said to me, ‘It’s not like you can stop me’.”
“Touché. All right, then can’t you even the odds somehow?”
“Listen to her, Noah.” Mason crossed his arms too, although Noah wasn’t tempted to look at his cleavage. “If they’d fight fair, it’d be okay. But without unbiased witnesses, I wouldn’t trust them not to gang up on you.”
“Who are the five?” Sophia asked.
“Killer.” Mason ticked up one finger, then a second. “Attila. Bonnie and Clyde.” Two more fingers, and then his thumb, pointed down. “And Ivan. You’ll have to take Ivan last, or you’ll be exhausted before you even start.”
“Not Marlowe?” Sophia said.
“The pup is trouble,” Noah said. “But he’s not old enough to be a real threat. Ivan is. He’ll definitely be last.”
“Noah, please don’t. Not if it’s really dangerous.”
“It’s either convince them or forfeit the hunt. I don’t have a choice.”
Sophia looked grim. “Take Mason with you, then.”
Noah shook his head. “I can’t look weak.”
“Pretend he isn’t there to fight. Say it’s to discuss pack business and you need him as a secretary, or something.”
Mason was nodding.
Noah looked between them. Both his mate and his second were wearing their determined faces. If he didn’t give in, he wouldn’t put it past either of them to go around him to “help”. Or worse, they might collaborate. Mason could take care of himself, but Sophia and those five…? He briefly closed his eyes and shuddered. “Fine. If it’ll get you both off my back, I’ll take Mason.”
Mason relaxed. “Good.”
Noah pointed a stern finger at his second. “But stay back. Only interfere if it’s an emergency. My status as dominant is already shaky.”
“No problem, except for Bonnie and Clyde. They’re almost never apart.”
“Bonnie?” Sophia said brightly. “I can take care of her.”
Noah whirled to face her. “You won’t go anywhere near that bitch.”
She dazzled him with a grin. “What bitch can resist shopping? I’m not going to fight, only distract. Don’t worry about me.”
Not worry about her? Not in this lifetime. He grabbed her arms. “You are not—”
“Noah, sweetheart. Goose-gander? You can’t stop me.”
His mouth remained hanging open. She’d called him sweetheart.
Sophia stared into Noah’s wonderful golden eyes. He thought she didn’t know. He was avoiding the whole issue of his eyes turning colors because he thought she didn’t know what it meant.
He was mated. To her.
Which, she reminded herself, was forbidden, not just yanked-before-the-Witches’-Council-and-castrated forbidden, but death.
Strangely, she worried more about the impact on poor Noah’s sex life. One-and-only mated wasn’t bad for her; Blues were monogamous women. But Noah? Shifter mating was the ultimate of monogamous relationships. Exclusive and forever, meaning if Noah never had a child by her, he’d never have a child.
Mated. 4-evah.
She’d always thought shifters got the raw end of the sex deal. The idea of fate—or magic or the great Wolf in the Sky—picking your partner seemed weird enough. But then being stuck with that mate your whole life long? Arbitrary and capricious and definitely not fair.
But now that she was experiencing it, it didn’t feel arbitrary or capricious. It felt inevitable and right.
Should have scared her. She wasn’t scared at all.
HEART beats for a wolf and a Blue…and Avignon’s predictions always came true. She shook the thought away.
Noah didn’t seem too scared either. Maybe he suspected, as she did, that the whole thing was counterfeit. A consequence of the altered hex that would fall apart with the unhexing.
Although in the meantime, if she was the Blue of the prophecy, he was the wolf. Which meant if the Hungry Ghost was after her, he’d be after Noah.
Beware the Hungry Ghost. Big reason to break the hex ASAP and free him from the mating.
On the other hand, breaking the hex would leave Noah mateless for the Hunt. Unless he could find another mate in a scant two hours…
Something deep inside her snarled at that. Noah wasn’t finding any mate but her.
Heat washed over her. Did she have an inner wolf somewhere? She probed the snarl like a sore tooth, gingerly, hoping it was her imagination.
The wolf snarled again. She didn’t like getting poked.
Sophia’s nape hairs raised. Clang her cauldron—she had an inner wolf. How the hell had that happened?
The hex? Or the sex? There certainly had been enough magic swirling around them…or maybe Noah’s wolf rubbed off on her when they’d been rubbing bodies…stars.
Her wolf snarled again. Protect our mate. Beware the Ghost. Find the Heart.
Well. Whether inner wolf or subconscious venting, it spoke truth. First things first—help Noah survive the Challenge. Time to go shopping.
“Sophia.” Noah’s deep voice broke into her thoughts. She realized he was staring closely at her, almost deep enough to read her mind. Sure enough, he said, “You are not going to Bonnie and Clyde’s.”
He couldn’t stop her, but that stern look on his beautiful face meant he certainly was going to try.
“Would I do that?” She put a finger to Noah’s lips to forestall any arguments. Apparently her flesh had been sensitized by their time in front of the mirror. Skin-on-skin contact poured barrels of lust through her veins. Him too, if his pained O-face was any indication.
Her whole body clenched with want, so intense she shuddered. But the shock also made his grip on her relax.
She popped from his hands and spun for the exit. He started after her with his ground-eating stride. “Don’t worry,” she flung over her shoulder. “I’m just going to my aunt’s bookstore.”
“Why?”
“Auntie has a barrel of basic calm charms. Overstock. Might help with a rampaging shifter or two. Say, if you want to get your convincing done before one a.m.,
hadn’t you and Mason better get started?”
He slowed at that, albeit reluctantly. “You’re not going to Bonnie’s?”
“How can I? I don’t know where she lives.” She scooted outside. She hadn’t lied. She had no idea where Bonnie and Clyde lived…but the Misses Jamies would.
The bad thing about eternal busybodies was, they were always poking their noses into their neighbors’ business.
The good thing was, that meant they were always home.
Gladys Louise met Sophia at the door wearing a frilly red apron that matched her apple cheeks. “Come in, come in! Aren’t your eyes bright and your hair nicely mussed.”
Sophia’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry?”
“Very stylish, that right-out-of-bed look.” The twinkle in her eye made Sophia wince.
“Hello, Sophia.” Behind her, Almira waved Sophia in. “We’ve been expecting you.”
That froze her, open-mouthed again. She managed, “You were?”
“Noah has trouble. You’d want to help, but you’d need more information first. Oh, shut your mouth. You look like a fish.” Almira waved Sophia onto the couch. “Albeit a nicely mussed one.”
Cheeks broiling, Sophia shut her mouth and let herself be directed. Miss Almira Jamies could have made a mint as an air traffic controller. A sweating pitcher of iced tea waited on the coffee table.
Almira poured her a generous glass. “A man left something for you. Your aunt’s vibrator.” She handed Sophia the psychedelic rod.
“It’s not a vibrator.” Sophia took it. “It’s a skyscraper mushroom.”
“It doesn’t vibrate?” Gladys Louise piped.
“Well it does, but…” Face flaming, Sophia sipped iced tea, sucking an ice cube into her mouth.
“It’s nice, of course,” Almira said. “Though mine is bigger.”
Sophia choked on her ice cube.
Gladys Louise piped, “The double-ended ones are better.”
Sophia swallowed the ice cube whole. She coughed while Almira helpfully pounded her on the back. “Gladys Louise uses it for sore muscles. What did you think?”
When the coughing subsided Sophia said, “I need the address for Bonnie and Clyde. I can’t go into details—”
“The Alpha Challenge?” Almira said.
So much for secrets. “Yes. Noah’s going to get the anti-alphas to drop it. I need to distract Bonnie so he can talk to Clyde alone.”
Gladys Louise nodded encouragingly. “And how had you thought to do that, dear?”
“Well…take her shopping?”
Almira snorted. “The only kind of shopping Bonnie does is the lifting kind.”
“As in shop-lifting,” Gladys Louise piped helpfully.
“Isn’t that taking the Bonnie and Clyde names to the extreme?”
“They picked their own adult names,” Almira said.
“Shopping’s a nice idea dear,” Gladys Louise said. “Except for the fact that Bonnie doesn’t go shopping, of course.” She cocked her head, her eyes bright beads like a little bird. “Maybe you should add an item or two from your aunt’s stock of magical persuaders. Just in case.”
“You might get Bonnie to a bar.” Almira nibbled a cookie. With her long front teeth, she looked like a tall mouse. “She likes to drink.”
“Good idea,” Gladys Louise said. “She even has her own mug at the corner tap.”
“Which one?” Sophia asked. There were at least five corner bars in a six-block radius.
“The one next to her house, of course.” Gladys Louise gave her the address.
“Thanks.” Sophia took her aunt’s mushroom and left.
She trotted down the sisters’ hedge-lined front walk, intent on getting to the Uncommon Night Owl Bookstore to pick up a magical means of helping convince Bonnie to leave, in case straight begging didn’t work.
A rustle brought her head up. Behind her. She turned.
The sidewalk was empty—except for a couple leaves fluttering on the hedges.
Neck prickling, she turned slowly back and resumed her walk, her ears open. Would’ve been easier with a wolf’s preternatural hearing.
But even her human ears heard the click of toenails behind her.
She whirled to see a dog-like rump disappearing into the hedge. Not King—bigger. Black, with a suspiciously bushy tail.
Frowning, she turned again. Worked up a whistle and nonchalant saunter onto the main sidewalk. She traipsed along in seeming oblivion for half a block.
She spun on her toe.
The animal trotting behind her froze, standing directly under a street lamp.
It was a wolf.
O-kaaay. The question was, shifter or natural? Cause if it was a wolf wolf, she was in serious trouble.
Come to think of it, if it was a shifter other than Noah or Mason, she was probably in trouble too. Well, unless it was Moon Moon, the Mr. Bean of werewolves.
Human or animal? She tried to see its eyes without staring. Creatures Studies taught her a Canidae took a direct stare as a challenge.
The wolf’s eyes looked like—eyes. Well, hocus her pocus. Who made up the idea that only shifter wolves had human eyes? What a load of crap. Round iris, round pupil, the only difference between human and wolf eyes was that the opening revealed much less white.
The amused gleam in those black eyes, though? Definitely human, and an annoying human at that.
Sophia’s fists landed on hips. “Are you Mason? No, don’t answer. It’s bad enough you’re out where anyone can see you. Follow me.”
She stomped off. Damn it, Noah was supposed to take Mason with him. Instead he’d ordered Mason to protect her? She could protect herself. Mason was so getting a butt chewing, followed by Noah when she saw him next.
Ooh. Chewing Noah’s butt, those hard rounded muscles… No. Righteous indignation here.
Arriving at the bookstore, she braced herself and took a quick peek with her Witch’s Eye for Rodolphe or a signs of tampering. She’d almost convinced herself she was wrong, that he wasn’t the Hungry Ghost. Rodolphe was a coward, a danger to freshmen witches and violent against helpless cars but running from a real threat. Seeing nothing alarming and migraine auras like jagged lightning warning her pain wasn’t far away, she closed her third eye, unlocked and opened the door, strode in and turned on the lights.
The wolf trotted in behind her. The moment she shut and locked the door, the wolf’s edges blurred; its form unfolded, morphing. Fur retracted, lean limbs lengthened and thickened with masculine muscle. All fours reared onto two, back unfurling and head rolling up while legs and arms and torso lengthened. Clothes blossomed to cover him just before he finished forming. In less time than it took to describe it, a man stood before her in jeans and a jacket.
It was the hot man from the pet store.
Without the apron he was very sexy indeed. He stood at his elegant ease, black hair curling carelessly around his fine ears, thumbs in his jeans pockets, hip cocked. His sharp eyes told her that, despite being a dog groomer, this man was not one to cross lightly.
“Did Noah send you?” she blurted.
“Hmm.” The corner of his mouth curled. “If I say yes, I could be lying. If I say no, you’ll run. I’ll say ‘yes’.”
“Right. Stupid question.” She normally wasn’t stupid, but she’d had a rough couple of days, culminating in the shock of incredible sex, her mate having to fight, and now these brilliant, penetrating black eyes. “Okay. Who are you?”
“Someone to keep you out of trouble.”
In the pet store it seemed perfectly appropriate not to know his name. Now it rankled. “Did Noah ask you to watch me? Are you in his pack?”
“I owe the Blackwood pack a favor,” he said, answering nothing. “I happened to overhear Noah trying to get his second to follow you, to ‘Keep her from get
ting herself killed’ which I interpreted as keeping you out of trouble. Watching you in action, though…now I understand what he meant.”
She flushed. “Noah’s overprotective. What I’m doing isn’t dangerous.” Or at least it wouldn’t be, after she combed Auntie’s stash for a helper item. She stowed the mushroom under the register—oh, there was her suitcase—and started searching, one eye on the nameless man.
“Not dangerous?” The man’s very fine lips quirked in her periphery. “Noah’s usually a pretty good judge, both of people and situations.”
“He’s emotionally involved. It’s clouded his judgment.”
The man raised one black brow, arching high. He sniffed delicately, his fine nostrils flaring. “Ah, yes. I understand.”
Like he hadn’t smelled the sex before. Which reminded her, she’d have to stay downwind of Bonnie and Clyde’s noses. “Don’t pretend not to have super-smell. I know you’re a shifter.”
The man shrugged. “I can shift.” The twinkle in his eye hinted at implications with a capital Imp.
She snatched up a calm amulet from a nearby sales barrel. Not for the five anti-alphas—for her, so as not to smack Mr. I-Can-Shift to the moon. He was not only annoying, he’d obviously had a lot of practice at it.
“Whatever.” She opened the cabinet nearest her, labeled Last Chance Sale!! (unsorted), revealing shelves littered with magical paraphernalia: wands, scrolls, loose crystals, potions in jewel-toned glass vials, and amulets both simple and gemmed. No way to tell what any of them were, at least not in the mundane way.
So she opened her third eye to the possibilities. Immediately the competing chatter of the talismans crowded her. “Pick me, pick me!” they cried. “You need help. Pick me!”
Oh great. Leave it to Auntie to have obnoxiously helpful talismans. Sophia felt like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland where the cakes all cried, “Eat me”. Or was that Through the Looking Glass? Then she remembered what a big bad alpha shifter and she had done in the looking glass…staying in Wonderland, then.
The voices were getting louder, shriller. Her head started to throb. To stave off a headache, she dropped the calm amulet, reached into the cabinet and picked one.