After parking, Deidre turns in her seat to face Silas. She still has his blood on her hands, though it’s dried, brown and flaking.
The average witch works with the elements, performing simple spells like glamouring, shields, or knocking someone unconscious. Alchemy, earth magic, things like that.
Blood magic is different, and few possess the skill to wield it. It’s darker, for one, and the right witch can corrupt or bottle the blood and use it to change and control fate and free will.
With a shifter’s blood? A powerful alpha, at that? The possibilities are endless.
By all accounts, even if the blood has dried, until it washes off her skin, she should still be able to compel Silas. But something feels off. I should be able to sense Deidre’s magical hold over him, but the tether feels frayed. Barely perceptible.
Either her hold on Silas is slipping, or it was never as strong as she believed.
He’s pretending to obey. He’s only still sitting in this car, waiting, listening, because he chooses to.
Like she’s talking to a rabid animal—to be fair, she is—Deidre says softly, “I just want her blood, Silas. That’s all.”
When he doesn’t respond, she huffs. “After everything you’ve endured, after everything we’ve been through together, you getyourmate. She’s yours. All yours. I mean, what are the chances that the omega I kept drugged and hidden away for years turns out to be your Moon Goddess-blessed mate?”
Silas snarls. But still says nothing. He isn’t even looking at her. So, she changes tactics, voice turning bitter. “You do what you do best, Silas—you fuck that girl and impregnate her. I’ll even let you keep the kid. I only want her blood.”
Silas’s alpha pulses again, heavier now. Like a battering ram, his pheromones leak out of his pores, his alpha actively fighting against him as he tries to remain calm.
Deidre either doesn’t notice how close the fuse is to the powder keg, or she still thinks she’s in control of him. Her nostrils flare as she sucks in a sharp breath, like she’s already tasting the power of the omega’s blood carrying the alpha’s seed. It would be potent, that’s for sure.
Irritated he isn’t responding, she grows nastier by the second. Magic hums from her fingertips as she jabs toward him accusingly. I taste the edges of the spell—confinement. She means to bind him again. Maybe she's aware she’s losing control of him, after all.
She leans in, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “But if you tryanythinglike that stunt you pulled back at the house, I willflayyou. Your precious mate will still serve her purpose, and trust me, there’s no shortage of alphas who would jump at the chance for one hour alone with her. She’s young. Pretty.Fertile.”
That last word catches in her throat, bitter and almost resentful. She goes on, “They would split her in half if I let them, until there’s nothing left but a broken husk, tossing her body between them like a party favor. A vessel to impregnate. Wolves are savages, as you know. Are you hearing me, Silas? Do I have your word you’ll behave like a good little wolf?”
Silas nods stiffly. The threat hangs in the air, and she smiles wide, despite the murderous rage in his eyes. She can’t smell theway his scent shifts, turning sharp, bitter, and acrid, but I can. It’s so strong I nearly cough. It actually stings my eyes, so I open the door.
Satisfied, Deidre exits the car, and Silas climbs out after her, but his movements are jerky. The proximity to his mate and Deidre’s threats are making him twitchy.
He throws a poisonous look my way as I patiently follow behind them. The anxiety coming off him is intense. I bet if I looked closely, I’d see his heart pounding against his sternum.
“Ben, darling, do be a dear and reinforce the ward. The witch we hired was… well, you get what you pay for, I guess.” It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me. I gave her a fake name when I showed up a week ago, claiming I wanted to pledge her coven. I made sure to come across as competent but non-threatening.
She’s right, the wards on the house are shitty. Instead of a barrier that should repel humans and require a magical pass-key to walk through, there’s barely any resistance. That’s good, though. I can rebuild them from scratch the way I want them. So I begin chanting, waving my hand toward the large bay window as we enter from the garage into a generic living room that looks like it’s been staged for sale. The space is bright, but ordinary—except for the unusual warmth in the air. Deidre is on her phone again, she doesn’t seem to notice the heat.
Silas does, though. His steps break, shoulders going rigid, and he takes a deep inhale. I take advantage of the distraction and brush my fingertips along his forearm. He jerks away, giving me a cold glare. I get what I need, and weave his essence into my magic.
“Tracy and her coven will be here soon. Thank you for taking us this far. I do not trust easily, Ben, but your assistance will not be forgotten,” Deidre says gravely, while I work about the room.
A man’s husky voice bellows from downstairs. “You gotta drink the water!” he whines.
Deidre turns and follows the sound. Silas exhales a slow, shuddering breath. Plants one foot, then the other. His hands curl into fists at his sides, then release, fingers splaying wide. Each footstep is deliberate, like he’s stomping toward his destiny.
He seems almost reluctant to see her. Like it’s somehow both the last thing in the world he wants to face, and the only thing he’s ever wanted.
Deidre opens the basement door and disappears down the steps on light feet.
I can smell the omega now.
I’ve had hours on the road to contemplate what would happen when we got here. It was the only conclusion I came to once I scented Silas, but even now, after working through every option, I’m still unprepared for it.
To scent her.
Honey. Jasmine, dogwood flowers. Sweet, succulent petals, dripping in nectar.
