“You can’t follow me into the women’s bathroom.”
“I wouldn’t have stayed-“
Dropping my hands, I snap,
“That’s not the point!”
His mouth clicks shut, before he finally mutters,
“I was just worried.”
Somehow, despite Andrew being the one in the wrong, I’m the one who feels guilty.
“Just-stay away from me. Go back to Rafe and live your life. Stop following me around.”
“I’m doing what I need to do,”
he says stubbornly, staring over my head instead of looking at my angry face.
Arguing with him is pointless.
Shouldering past, I try not to stomp too hard as I head back to the counter, where my order’s waiting. Lyre’s nowhere in sight, but she did say it would be almost a half-hour before she was done.
I should have waited before ordering.
I grab the tray with our food and head to the table furthest away from any strangers. Another thing I’ve learned over the past two days-humans like to talk.
I’ve had some really fascinating conversations while standing in line. These aren’t bad experiences, but Andrew’s soured my mood, and I have no interest in looking at anyone’s face today.
Except Lyre’s, of course.
Andrew pulls out the chair at the table directly next to mine, and my mood plummets further. A sigh escapes me before I can stop it. I’ve lived with wolves long enough to know what this is- territory marking. He’s making sure everyone knows I’m under his protection, which would be sweet if I actually wanted it. It’s also stupid, because humans don’t do this kind of thing.
“You’re ruining my appetite.”
I slide Lyre’s burger to the empty spot across from me, pushing the remaining one toward me and leaving the fries centered. My stomach growls despite my annoyance.
Andrew rests his arms on the table, his eyes never leaving my face. He has no food, and I wonder how he’s been surviving without buying anything to eat or drink.
“Just pretend I’m air,”
he says, sounding serious and not at all joking.
My words are a soft whisper, but I know he can hear every word:
“Air doesn’t scowl like you do.”
I pick at a few fries. They’re crisp and well-salted, but my appetite’s run off since Andrew’s trying to stare holes into my face. The ketchup packet remains unopened in my hand as I wait for Lyre to appear. I check the time on the wall clock-she should be done soon.
My gaze drifts to the window, where I’m surprised to see a white cat watching my every move.
It’s sitting on the sidewalk just feet away from my window, and it’s huge. Not big enough to be confused with a tiger or something, but large enough the word housecat seems… wrong. Maybe it’s one of those wild hybrid cats.
Its posture is unnaturally still, and its eyes-bright blue-are fixed directly on me.
“I think someone’s lost their cat,”
I murmur, more to myself than to Andrew.
“What cat?”
I want to be irritated by his question, but I’m the one who spoke out loud. He probably thinks
I’m holding a conversation.
Sighing, I point toward the window.
“That one. The white one sitting right there.”
The animal hasn’t moved an inch, its tail curled neatly around its paws. It’s almost statue-like.
Andrew follows my finger, his brow furrowing as he peers through the glass. He stares for a long moment, then turns back to me with a blank expression.
“I don’t see anything”
A chill runs down my spine.
“What do you mean? It’s right there. The huge white cat staring at us.”
His eyes narrow as he looks again.
“There’s nothing there, Grace.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms against the table as I focus on the creature. It’s impossible to miss-it must weigh thirty pounds at least, with a coat so white it almost hurts to look at.
“How can you not see it? It’s massive.”
I gesture more emphatically.
“Right there. White cat, blue eyes, staring straight at me.”
Andrew’s face changes, concern replacing irritation.
“There’s no cat, Grace.”
CAINE
There’s an itch under my skin I can’t get rid of, and it isn’t helping my temper. I’ve already been to Forest Springs, only to find out Grace isn’t anywhere in their territory. Their Alpha, however, is a reasonable man.
He traded his pet warlock for his life. I didn’t spill a single drop of blood, something I’ll have to remember to tell the girl later, it’ll show her I’m capable of holding back. 4)
The thought of her relief when I tell her helps soothe the itch, until Fenris snaps, You still don’t get it, you idiot. 3
He’s barely said a word to me since we discovered Grace missing two nights ago.
My new warlock’s hands shake as he takes her pillow from me. My fingers twitch. I want to snatch it back-the soft bundle of polyester fluff still smells like her.
“This will do nicely,”
he says, his voice thin and reedy. The Forest Springs Alpha wasn’t lying when he said his pet magic user was skittish. What’s his name again?
Thom, Fenris snarls. O
Right, Thom.
My lip curls.
“I don’t need your commentary, Thom. Just find her.”
The warlock adjusts his peculiar glasses-thick, smoked lenses with copper wire wrapping around the frames. They look ridiculous, but I know their purpose. They shield his eyes from what witches call
“magical ambience”-the glow that surrounds every living thing that normal people can’t see.
You drove her away, Fenris growls, his presence swelling with accusation. Our mate is gone because of you.
“She’s not our mate,”
I mutter, too low for the warlock to hear.
Lies.
Fenris paces our shared consciousness, claws dragging against the mental barriers I’ve erected to keep him contained. He’s becoming more unruly by the hour. Since the moment we realized Grace had fled, he’s been half-feral, snapping and snarling. The guard for her bedroom is yet another body she’s going to hold against me.
As well she should, he mutters, like he isn’t the one who ripped his throat out. 2
The warlock brings the pillow to his face, inhaling deeply. Fenris howls, and I fight to keep my hands at my side and not twisting his head off his scrawny little neck.
“Don’t do that.”
Thom freezes, his owlish eyes widening further behind his ridiculous glasses.
“Uh, sir-High Alpha-I was just checking the density of her essence.”
My eye twitches. If he says essence one more time, I might have to punch his mouth.
“And?”
“This isn’t enough. Something with a little more of her DNA would be best.”
I snarl without meaning to, my lips peeling back to reveal teeth.
Thom flinches hard, throwing his hands up to shield his face. The pillow slips from his fingers and tumbles toward the floor.
My hand shoots out, snatching it from midair before it can touch the ground. Her scent is the only thing keeping me calm. I can’t let it be contaminated by the floor’s stench of polish and feet.
You could smell her directly if you hadn’t scared her off, Fenris says, sounding colder than ice. 1
I ignore him, brushing my palm across the pillow’s surface, erasing any trace of Thom’s scent. The gesture feels ridiculous even as I do it, but I can’t stop myself. Once satisfied, I place it gently on my bed. 2
“Follow me,”
I bark at the warlock.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.