by D. Fischer
My mind is blank. All the questions I once had are gone now that I stare at the spitting image of my father, albeit with the lighter skin and opposite gender.
It can’t get past one thing: My aunt is sitting across from me. My aunt. Shared blood. Shared heritage. A living piece of my father.
The whispers seem to grow louder, hum in my ears like TV static. They abruptly silence with her next words.
“Why did you call me here, Jinx?”
My attention had wandered to the mantle, and I flick my eyes back to her. The way she said it was like she had never expected to see me. Never even dreamed or hoped for it.
“Are you not happy to get to know your niece?” I ask, quirking a brow to hide the pang in my chest.
“Of course I am.” She tucks her chin. Every gesture she makes is small but seemingly impactful. “But the daughters of witches don’t know their father’s siblings exist for them, let alone invite the aunts for food and conversation. Not without searching. Not without questions to guide that search.”
I chew on the inside of my lip, and she quiets her voice. “I am grateful you found me. Truly. I knew I had a niece. I knew she was born in a coven. But I never imagined I’d ever meet her – you.” She flourishes with a hand. “From what I’ve been told, witches never seek out their father’s, let alone their aunts. Why? Why now?”
“I just learned about you.” I scratch my cheek. “My mother told me about my father at the same time she gave me his shaman book and this.” I point to the necklace on the arm of the couch and watch her face carefully. She lowers her gaze to the pendant and visibly pales.
At Jacob’s flared nostrils, I know he’s scenting her fear. I lean forward. “You know what this is, don’t you.”
“I thought –” She tugs at the neckline of her shirt. “I thought that was lost when your father died in the car crash.”
“I don’t think it was a car crash,” Jacob admits. We both snap our attention to him. “I believe the Bane Pack killed him while searching for that pendant. He left the cursed pendant with your mother, Jinx. Without their relationship being common knowledge at the time, they wouldn’t have known where to look next for it. Not until they found out who you were, a fact we still aren’t sure of.”
“The only reason a shaman passes down his book and belongings is if he knows he’s going to die,” Kaya adds, further paling. The tips of her fingers hover, trembling, over her top lip.
I glare at Jacob. He never shared this information with me. Sure, he had hinted at it, but this is a conversation we should have had before my father’s sister arrived. He doesn’t flinch at my silent threat.
And then I double blink as the whispers repeat my aunt’s words. He knew. My father knew he was going to die . . .
Kaya sighs and rolls the stiffness from her shoulders. The transformation from looking sick to brushing it off brings my attention back to her. “I had suspected.”
“You believe this?” I wave my hand at Jacob.
“Yes,” she answers breathlessly. “I knew about the problems with the Bane Pack. I saw how stressed your father was. The only time he wasn’t in a state of worry was when he came home after seeing your mother.”
Jacob doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. Instead, a sense of pride and understanding puffs his chest.
“May I –” Kaya hesitates. “May I hold it? The wolf pendant?”
I look to Jacob for confirmation. When he nods, I carefully pick it up from the arm of the couch and gently pool it in her outstretched palm. Her eyes light with . . . something. Recognition? It’s just a quick something, and then her face returns to its normal mask of serenity and small, subtle expressions. She’s difficult to read, and I find my confidence sinking. She doesn’t trust me.
“What do you know about this pendant?” Jacob asks quietly.
She runs her thumb over the carved ridges of the wolf several times before she hands it back, albeit slightly reluctantly. She doesn’t take her interest off it though, even when I tuck it beneath my thigh. If she’s not going to trust me, then I’m not going to trust her.
“I imagine I know everything you do. As far as I know, Adriel had never kept secrets from me.”
For a moment, a ping of jealousy punches my stomach. This woman got to know my father in a way I never will. Does she know his favorite foods? His favorite pastime? Do we share any traits?
“So you know it’s cursed, who it cursed, and what the curse entails,” I say. None of it was a question. Instead, it came out as an accusation.
To her credit, she expresses nothing in response to my brash tone. “I do.”
“Do you know why he cursed them?”
She frowns, eyes casting to the floor and searching the pattern of the rug as she rifles through her memory. “That was so long ago. If I remember right, it was because they asked him for something. I don’t remember what, but he had refused. When he refused, they promised retaliation, but he damned them before they could. In the end, they kept their word.”
“Indeed,” Jacob murmurs in a deep baritone.
I look at Jacob again, desperately wanting his strength. I know what I need to say next, but it’s difficult to share my secrets with anyone, let alone a mere stranger, blood-related or not. What if she knows more though? According to all the research, tribes have long since feared skinwalkers. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she mistrusts me for the same reasons I mistrust her.
Jacob, sensing my fear and hesitation, presses on for me.
“Do you know what a skinwalker is, Kaya?”
She scoots further back against the cushion to rest her back against the couch. “Sure, I do. It’s in our common legends and stories, still told to our children.” Kaya looks back and forth between us. “Why?”
“It’s not a legend anymore,” he states bluntly.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jacob Trent
My exhaustion is hitting me heavier than it has in the past, and it’s all I can do to keep my head up at my desk instead of laying it across the smooth surface for a short nap. I rub my eyes, and when I open them, Jinx is standing before me. I hadn’t heard her come in, and I startle in my chair.
“Do you ever knock?” I ask tiredly.
“You touch my boobs. When one reaches this level of friendliness, privacy goes out the window,” she says smarmily and then places her palms on my desk and leans across it. “Did you have to break the news to her so bluntly?”
I blink slowly. “How else was I to tell her you’re the legends her people always talked about? How was I supposed to know that in these legends, skinwalkers are considered black witches who need to be killed?”
In truth, all we knew was that the tribes warned their people away from skinwalkers.
“We’re lucky she decided to stay at all,” Jinx hisses between clenched teeth.
“So you found a room for her then,” I guess, tipping back in my office chair. The springs squeak. I thought for sure Jinx would seek shelter and peace in the tower, but instead, it would seem a verbal sparring match is her interest at the moment.
Jinx straightens, grabs her hair tie from around her wrist, and roughly pulls her hair into a loose knot at the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo washes over me like a warm breeze. “Yes. Right next to yours, if you must know. Where you’ll be a buffer between her and me if she decides to kill me in my sleep.”
I sigh, deep and heavy. “She won’t kill you, Jinx. She agreed to help you discover your capabilities.” I admit I hadn’t expected her to act so frightened. ‘Act,’ because the scent of fear wasn’t as strong as her actions suggested. It certainly wasn’t as strong as when she saw the pendant. There’s something different about Kaya Whitethorn, but I’ve never met another shaman’s daughter to compare.
Jinx flings her hands in the air and starts pacing in front of my desk.
Grabbing my steaming coffee, I watch her for a moment while I sip. “You’re not worried she’ll kill you. You’re worried because you’r
e afraid of you. You’re worried because you think she can’t help you.”
Jinx stops abruptly and whirls to me. Nostrils flared, she breathes heavily as the seconds tick by. Eventually, she visibly deflates, and the fight leaves her posture. Then, she begins to chew on the inside of her lip as her eyes stray to the spine of the leather book still on my desk.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if – what if there’s more to this than what we’ve seen so far?”
“What do you mean?” I set my mug down and tent my fingers, ready to endure the real reason for her anxiety.
She peeks around, roaming to the corners of my office. “I can –” she pauses. “I can hear things. Whispers, sometimes. It started recently.”
“After the Bane’s invasion?” I ask. She nods. “Well, that makes sense. You’ve accepted you’re different. You’ve accepted your unique heritage.”
“So, you agree with me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “There’s definitely more to this than just skinwalking into a wolf, Jinx. It’s a tangled web, and that’s why we have your aunt here. She’ll help you unravel it.”
“What do you mean?” she asks again, barking the words, and crosses her arms over her middle in a rare show of vulnerability.
Standing from my chair, I make my way to the couch and gesture for her to follow. She does, and when I sit, I pull her onto my lap, tuck her head under my chin, and kiss her hair. She tastes of honey and pine, a combination teasing to both man and wolf.
“Witches and wolves have always hated one another. In rare cases, they become friends, but more often than not, they don’t. Do you see how quickly the pack warmed to you? Your very presence speaks to our wolves on a spiritual level.”
I blink at my own admission. I hadn’t truly considered it before it popped out of my mouth, at least on a conscious level. The truth behind it is startling.
“She will warm to you and what you are just the same,” I add. “Be honest with her, and eventually, she’ll open up to you.”
She frowns and tips her head back. “You truly think there’s more to being a skinwalker than simply turning into a sparkly white wolf?”
I chuckle at this. “You did sort of sparkle.”
She slaps me lightly on the shoulder. “Be serious now.”
For her benefit alone, I sober quickly. “Yes, my little wolf. I believe there’s much more you haven’t discovered about yourself. And before you ask, yes, I believe your aunt can help you find it.”
“You like her, don’t you,” she accuses.
“Don’t you?” I ask disbelievingly. A stray strand of brown hair didn’t make it into her ponytail, and I tuck it gently behind her ear.
Kaya Whitethorn is fascinating to me and my wolf, a person worth studying. A person with secrets. More than anything, I want to know where Jinx came from a little better.
She bites her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me not to replace her teeth with my own. Whether Jinx knows it or not, she’s a very sensual person. Where Kaya is more serious, Jinx isn’t. It makes me wonder which one of the women take after Adriel Whitethorn, or if they’re as similar as most aunts and nieces are.
“Maybe,” she whispers, cutting off my thoughts. It’s all she says on the matter.
I tilt down, slide my lips against hers, and whisper, “It took ages for you to warm up to me. It’ll probably take just as long for you to trust her, too.”
She hums against my mouth, and I lick her bottom lip. She opens willingly for me, adjusting her position across my lap so she’s straddling my hips. My erection rocks against her core, and she hums again. It’s a sound I find I can’t live without.
Grabbing the nape of her neck, I angle her head above mine. The kiss deepens. Her breath tickles the side of my cheek, and her breasts push against my neck. I run my hands from her head to her shoulders, to her waist, and grip tightly, pulling her down against the very appendage wanting to be buried inside her.
Claim her, my wolf demands.
She groans, grabs my wrists, and urges my hands under her sweatshirt. She guides them up her taut abdomen and shoves them under her bra. I growl into her mouth as my hands cup her breasts. They’re so firm, the nipples peaked. I pinch them, and she rocks against me, over and over and over again. The pressure, the rocking motion, heightens her scent of arousal.
My balls tighten against me, strain even. I lift the sweatshirt over her head and fling it to the floor. Her bra is pushed up above her breasts, and I watch them jiggle as she continues to rock against me. I can sense her heated stare, feel her breath pass between kiss-swollen lips.
Bending, I lick one of her nipples, and her head tips back with a sigh. I slide my hands around the small of her back, bringing her breast closer to my mouth, and latch on to the tight peak.
My reward is the deepest of moans, a sound I echo against her skin. Just when I move to give the same attention to the other breast, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I growl, my eyes flashing wolf for the interruption. Jinx, laughing softly, lifts herself up so I can fish it out of my pocket. The phone nearly fumbles from my shaking hands.
Peering at the display, I frown at the blocked number.
“Who is it?” she asks, still smirking.
“I don’t know.”
She tries to snatch it from me playfully, but I press the green button on the little flat screen and bring it to my ear.
“Jacob speaking.”
“The victorious Riva Alpha,” the deep voice rumbles on the other side. I stiffen, and Jinx scowls.
“Wice,” I growl as my wolf rakes my insides. The crazy creature doesn’t know we can’t reach the Bane alpha through the phone. He hears his voice and wants revenge, to rip him open and let his blood puddle around his corpse.
Wice chuckles. “Glad to know you haven’t forgotten me.”
“How could I when your dead shifters are nothing but a pile of ash on my territory.”
Jinx frowns at this too. I hadn’t told her we burned the bodies. She was asleep when Rex lit them up to hide the evidence. Though humans don’t come here, we can’t take any chances. The future is never certain and should be treated as such.
“Put it on speaker,” Jinx whispers.
There is barely a noticeable pause as I press the speaker button. I hold the phone out between us and rest my fingers against my lips in a shushing gesture. Nodding nervously, Jinx yanks down her bra.
“So that’s what you did with them,” Wice continues. He chuckles as if having dead shifters is an everyday occurrence for him. I wonder what his shifters would say, especially the more dominant, if they learned how careless about their lives the alpha is. It’s as if he expected their deaths. As if it doesn’t hurt him in any way what-so-ever.
A chill seemingly sweeps into the room, and my protective instincts cause my chest to rumble with a low growl.
“Was I supposed to ship the bodies back? I thought the one who escaped was enough of a gift as any. We have some large Christmas bows I could have stapled to their forehead for you.” I hold Jinx’s stare. Her breathing is tight. Fear clings to the outer edges of her tense eyes and replaces the soft aroma of her arousal.
“You think you’ve won,” he whispers. Though his tone is kind, I know with Wice, kindness is a warning. The more I interact with the alpha, the more I believe the rumors about him and his pack. Mercenaries. Bloodthirsty. Psychopaths.
“You think you’ve taken away the threat with only a few deaths.”
“The only threat I see here is your voice coming through a tiny speaker,” Jinx hisses.
“Ah,” Wice draws slowly, delightfully. “The skinwalker is still under your protection.”
“Does that surprise you?” I ask.
“No,” he answers right away. “Beasts always cling to beasts, even if one of the beasts is an abomination born to the very man who damned my entire pack.”
“Is there a point to this call?” I ask quickly.
I need him off the phone before Jinx becomes the uncontrollable one.
“And here I thought we were finally becoming friends.” There’s a short pause. “I got everything I needed from this call, but perhaps I will leave this conversation on a better note. At least, for me.”
“What do you want, asshole?” Jinx hisses. Perhaps all he needed was to confirm we didn’t stash Jinx away somewhere. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I should have known better.
“I will get what is mine, skinwalker,” he spits, finally rising to her challenge. “One way or another, I will make you break this curse. If that means I have to go after the people you love, the people who protect you, or complete innocent humans, I will.”
“Let me guess. You’ll stop at nothing.”
I twitch my lips to the side. Maybe I should end this call and –
“The word nothing doesn’t exist in my vocabulary, Jinx Whitethorn, born to Jamie Li, a witch to the Lotus Coven. Best friend to Saralynn Shepherd. Lover to Alpha of the Riva Pack. Niece to Kaya Whitethorn.” Jinx’s eyes snap to mine, widening as he continues. “The better phrase is: what won’t I do to achieve what I want? I’m a desperate man who’s waited a long time to find that pendant. Desperation can be a dangerous thing.”
And with that, Wice hangs up.
CHAPTER SIX
Jinx Whitethorn
I climb off Jacob and snatch my sweatshirt off the floor.
“Now what?” I bark at him. I realize how irrational my anger is, but I’m powerless to stop it. I directed all my aggression at Jacob with those two words. I slip my hands through my sweatshirt, yanking it over my head, then scrub my face with my palms to rid the tension settled heavy in my cheeks.
Wice knows everything about me. I have no doubt he knows where Sara works, too. I make a mental note to demand Sara quit her job. Although, come to think of it, she’s called in sick all week. She probably has no job to go back to, and for that, I am grateful. She could have been taken already, or worse, killed. Thank the Divine she isn’t a model employee.