“We’ll see about that.”
He ripped his shirt over his head, his body heating just from hearing her voice. He refused to ask her name, to pull her any closer. Warm honey and cinnamon assaulted his nose, filling him until the scent soaked into his cells. It made him think of slick silk sheets, sultry nights, and mating.
It tickled at the edges of his memories—memories he didn’t want to face.
“Leave me be, witch.”
“I’m no witch.”
No, Zahara was a witch, in the truest sense of the word. Isadora had that blood too. Carlo didn’t want to acknowledge whatshewas. That voice. His ... mate.
Opening his slacks with deft fingers, he shredded the expensive material in his haste. His tongue grew thick in his mouth, his canines bursting through his gums, aching for relief. It was always the same each day, every fucking moment he didn’t go to her.
But hecouldn’t.
Never.
“Please.”
Carlo closed his eyes, reaching for his wolf, for the change to protect him, to help him. The wolf’s natural instinct would have been to run to her, but with him closed in his bedroom, his wolf couldn’t give in to that need. The hatred. He’d only have to deal with the drive, and that he could push down. He hadn’t left the doors or windows open to get outside, and he was trapped here.
“Did you ever think there was a reason Chaos touched you?”
He snarled and snapped his teeth together. Fuck. No. Chaos had destroyed him, mixed him up until he’d forgotten who he was. It left him tethered to the murderous intent of Ottavio and his plot with Luigi to overthrow Arturo because he’d been so terrified of his own mind. He hadn’t been able to hear Arturo’s pleas or find a chance to free himself.
Carlo hadn’t remembered family or emotions. He’d known nothing but the mindless slide into rage or desire, twisted until he only fought or fucked. And now? He couldn’t risk it. His second touch with Chaos had brought him back to who he once was, and he couldn’t risk losing himself again.
Not even for her.
“All is not what it seems. Things had to happen, Carlo. You must believe me.”
Lowering to the floor in a trembling mass of need, his wolf whimpered at the sound of his name on her tongue. He had to go, had to get away from her and the temptation she presented. She would be his downfall.
What kind of luck did he have that the one woman made for him would be what he hated most?
“You don’t hate me. You fear yourself. Fear what was bestowed on you.”
Bestowed?Bestowed?
Carlo’s wolf went wild, tearing through his room. Teeth and claws ripped through anything close to him. The world faded to a red haze of remembered agony, fear, and rage. He’d never go back there. He’d die first, no matter what the fuck happened. His chest heaved as he dug at his bed, stripping it of its foam and coil guts.
Just like him. Ripped open. Exposed. Sheknewwhat Chaos had done to him. She had to. ShewasChaos, part of it. He could taste it along with her scent. He knew she was as much a part of it as it was of her.
Ancient magic, the fount of it. She was aMage, in the truest sense of the word. Zoey, Kalinda, Zahara, and Lorenzo, along with so many others in the Portal Cities, had some magic, but Carlo’s mate was different.
He could sense it.
He refused to tie himself to that, to the Chaos, again.
“You have no reason to fear me. You just have to remember, Carlo.”
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Carlo did a partial shift of his hand, just enough to open the door, and then he slid back into a full wolf before streaking from his room. He needed to run, needed the freedom of the forest. His claws clicked on the floor as he raced down the stairs and slid into the foyer.
“Carlo?” The red starbursts in Eiravel’s black eyes sparked with power as he stood. “What has happened?”
His twin, Cynes, leaned against the wall. The relaxed pose didn’t fool Carlo. He knew the Unseelie’s bow and magically enhanced jewels were within reach, in case he had to attack. They’d been powerful allies of Heath when he’d attacked Silva and the Lombardi Pack without having the truth of their memories, but their bond with Isadora had taken precedence. Their relations with the Unseelie, Renegade wolves, and the wolves of Encantado were still shaky—fighting nearly to the death would do that—but they were trying.
Because of this, Carlo could appreciate Cynes and Eiravel’s need to protect their bonded female and question him. Even if Carlo outranked the males in the wolf hierarchy, he’d never begrudge a man protecting what belonged to them.
