She stared at the man in front of her. He wore a charcoal suit with a blue checkered tie and a burgundy coloured warlock’s robe tied loosely at his throat. He reached down and snagged the candle from the floor and held it out to her. He was short and slender with thick silver hair in a bun, and kind eyes. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her and held out the candle. He looked vaguely familiar, but Cece couldn’t place where she might have seen him before.
She glanced behind her at the only entrance to the aisle before turning to give the warlock a puzzled look. “The aisle was empty. You didn’t walk past me. I would have seen you. How did you -”
“You have his eyes,” the man said. His voice was deep with a Spanish accent.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“His eyes and,” the man’s gaze traveled over her hair, a soft warmth in his amber eyes, “the same gold coloured hair. You’re so beautiful, and I am so happy to finally meet you, Nietita.”
Cece dropped her candles, and they hit the floor with a muffled thump. She took a step back, and the man said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Cecelia.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “How do you know my name?”
He hesitated before giving her a tentative smile. “I’m your grandfather.”
The air rushed out of her lungs in a gasping wheeze. She shouted for Briggs, or at least she tried to, but all that came out was another wheeze that only slightly resembled Briggs’s name.
Adrenaline was hitting her system, and her magic responded, flickering to life and rushing through her veins as she studied the man. Now, she knew where she’d seen him before. The WWC website, in particular, the pictures of the High Council members that she’d carefully perused when researching her father’s family.
Her grandfather took a step toward her. “My name is Werner. I know this is a shock, but you’re my granddaughter. Your father -”
“Stay away from me,” Cece wheezed as she took another step back.
Werner cocked his head, his gaze flicking to the green light glowing in Cece’s hands. “Are you afraid of me? Please don’t be. I would never hurt you, Nietita. I wanted to meet you with the hope that we could perhaps have a relationship. I didn’t know you existed until recently and -”
“Briggs!” Cece’s voice had finally decided to cooperate.
“Who’s Briggs?” Werner asked.
“I am,” Briggs growled as he stalked into the aisle and stepped past Cece, his giant body towering over Werner’s. “And you’re scaring my mate, old man.”
“You have a mate?” Werner said to Cece. “I didn’t realize. My research didn’t -”
“Who the fuck are you?” Briggs snarled.
“I’m her grandfather,” Werner said. “And I’d like to talk to Cecelia.”
Briggs growled again, a terrifying sound that rumbled from his chest and made Cece want to flee despite knowing Briggs would never hurt her. He was starting to shift, his body swelling as white fur sprouted from his skin.
Her grandfather’s hands glowed a bright red, and he took a few steps back but stared calmly enough at Briggs. “You’re making a mistake, shifter.”
“You made a mistake when you tried to hurt my mate,” Briggs growled.
“I haven’t tried to hurt her,” Werner said. “And if you don’t back off, you’ll regret it.”
Briggs bared his fangs at him. “I’m going to tear you open and eat your liver, warlock.”
“You can try,” Werner said, his voice still calm.
Cece, her magic sparking and pulsing in her veins, took a step forward. Her mind buzzed with what Werner had said to her. He would never hurt her. He just wanted to meet her.
Although she had no way of knowing this to be true, some instinctive part of her believed him. Maybe it was the warmth in his gaze when he’d looked at her. The affection in his voice when he called her nietita.
She took a deep breath, willing her magic to calm down. “Briggs, wait.”
Werner’s gaze turned to her, forcing another growl from Briggs’s throat. “Tell your mate to stop, Cecelia. I have no desire to hurt him.”
Briggs laughed, the sound more terrifying than humorous. “The floor will be drenched in your blood when I’m done with you.”
