“That,” Hester purrs as she steps up to the edge of blood pooling around Cory, “is magic.”
The female wolf’s lips curl in a snarl, but it’s Mick who spits out the single word like a curse.
“Witch.”
58
JULIET
A witch?
Guess I still have a lot more to learn about the supernatural world than I thought. Though now that the descriptor has been applied to Hester, it makes complete sense. She does seem to embody magic, but in a more ethereal way than wolves do.
“Any who hurt this woman shall have the same enacted upon them.” Hester’s eyes flick to Larson, who has finally fought his way out of his truck. “A human will meet a much worse fate.”
“What is Abby to you to warrant such protections?” Mick snarls.
“Juliet.” Roderick’s voice is steady, not revealing the deadly tension that I know lurks just beneath the surface. “Her name is Juliet.”
Hester speaks before Mick can retort. “Juliet, Abby, whatever name she chooses to go by doesn’t matter to me. But as for protection?” Her smile is all teeth. “She is soon to be my adopted daughter.”
Shock sweeps through me as my neighbor turns her back on the Bear Valley wolves as if they hold no threat to her.
“Your alpha may want to wait for a pretty ceremony, but I have no such need. Will you share your blood with me, dear one?” She palms a slim silver blade she was hiding gods know where. With a quick strike, she slices a long line across her palm. “If you would like a little more family—and a lot more protection, that is—I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
“Are you … you’re serious?” I ask, my heart thundering hard at the offer.
Hester smiles wickedly. “As the grave.”
I glance up at Roderick, who’s wearing a cautious expression as he studies Hester.
“Any problem with me being your mate and a witch’s adoptive daughter?” Even asking the question seems surreal to me.
Roderick tilts his head, a slight indication that his neck is mine. That this choice is mine.
“Hester has always been a friend of the pack,” he says.
“Don’t do it!” Cory snarls, blood still dribbling from his mouth, wild eyes on me. “Don’t you dare, Abby!”
I glare down at him. “My name is Juliet.”
Then I accept the knife and score my own palm, offering Hester a hesitant smile through the sting. The one she returns to me is the softest I’ve seen from her.
“Welcome to the family.” Then she grabs my hand.
My vision goes white. An explosion of stars and a gong in my ears. I come back to myself with a gasp, every nerve in my body tingling.
“Breathe, dear. There’s a good girl.” Hester is in front of me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, her hard eyes studying me with a tilt of concern.
Once she’s assured I’m not about to collapse, my new witchy mother faces the Bear Valley pack, and I see the lot of them shift uncomfortably.
Hester leans over to pick up Cory’s shirt. She holds the knife to the fabric in a hostile manner.
“Please!” Janeen sobs, no longer shouting threats.
Hester slices downward, the binding falling into useless scraps at her feet. Cory gasps in the first healthy-sounding breath since he started coughing in the car.
“Juliet Adair-Willowborne, formerly Abby Green, is a daughter of witches. Any who touch her without her permission will find their insides on their outsides. The group with which the perpetrator associates will be dismantled with brutal force and vicious magic. None shall be spared.” Hester holds Mick’s glaring eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”
