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Haven blinks as if startled by my sudden appearance in front of her. By the time she answers, I want to shake her to force her to speak faster. “Yes,” she admits. “Though maybe not that one exactly.”

Lyall darts a look my way. “I would have walked her home, and we could have avoided all of this.”

“She wouldn’t have been halfway down that path before you had her stripped down to her underwear,” I snap back. “You were ready to strip her right there in the fucking kitchen of that house regardless of who was watching!”

Lyall bares his teeth at me in a mimicry of a smile. It’s not. “Jealous, Ez?” he taunts. “Do you hate the thought of her being so hot for me that she—”

“Do. Not.” My fingers clamp around the glass in my hand. Fine fissures crawl over the otherwise seamless frame of the cup. “Finish that sentence.”

He shuts up. Thank fuck.

With a careful breath, I drain the contents of the glass and toss it into the fire behind me. It roars, sending a wave of heat cascading into the room as the last vestiges of the alcohol are fed to its flames before slowly dying back out. When I glance at Haven, her face is flushed and her eyes wide. No doubt she’s just as uncomfortable about our argument as I am.

I frown at Lyall as a flash of gold appears in his eyes—the wolf surfacing to glare back at me. Normally, he’s far more controlled and easy to deal with. Since finding Haven, however, he’s fallen back into old habits, and if he’s not fucking careful, the wolf may slip his control.

His wolf hates me, hates to think of anyone else as leader, as alpha. But he understands that, between us, I am the stronger power. If I have to beat him bloody not just to remind him of that fact but to ensure he keeps the damn animal on its leash around Haven and our coven brothers, I will. Reyes has taken far too much damage as it is.

“Here are the facts,” I state, holding up a finger. “Haven was attacked in the woods by a specter—” Her mouth pops open, and I read the question there before she has a chance to ask it. “A specter is a type of spirit that can be summoned by those who are close to the Veil,” I explain.

“Are you sure it was a specter?” Reyes asks. “Not a golem or a hollower?”

“It could have been a golem,” I say, “but a classic light spell worked well enough, and that wouldn’t have done shit to a golem. It was definitely not a hollower.”

“What’s a—”

“Fact two,” I say, cutting Haven off before she can veer us off course for another lesson in Veil creatures. “If it was a specter, it was after something.” I twist my hand and point to the girl in question. “You called it.”

“I did not,” Haven says quickly. “I didn’t even know what it was.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve seen a Veil creature.” It’s not a question, but she frowns up at me regardless.

“No?” she replies. “I mean … if all of the other ones I’ve seen are Veil creatures, then I don’t think so.”

Right. It’s clear she has no idea who or what she is. Fuck me. That just makes this all worse. My jaw aches as I grind my teeth. Why the fuck hadn’t her father taught her any of this? Had he meant to before he died? Why hadn’t he brought her back to the coven when she’d been born?

“What’s the third fact?” Cameron asks.

I bite back my annoyance as I answer. “Haven needs to learn to control her powers and”—I pause, leveling her with a stare—“to stop calling creatures from the Veil.”

Her dirty look is a promise of retribution as she curls her upper lip back at me. Good—I hope she continues to hate me. I’m not going to be her fucking friend, and I’m certainly not going to make her entry into our world comfortable. She shouldn’t even exist. The only reason she’s here now is because she’s a danger to herself, us, and anyone else in her path.

“You need to learn control,” I state.

“Control?” Haven scoots forward on the couch and sets her mug on the table. “What do you—wait!” She holds her hand up, palm flat. “How did you even know what it was or how to make it go away?”

“I didn’t make it go away. I—”

“Sent it back to the Veil, yeah, yeah, but how did you do that?” she demands. She shakes her head, and her lips twist into a grimace. “It was as if it pulled me into a different place—you were gone, and then … you weren’t.”

“He’s always moved like a wraith,” Lyall says dryly. “It’s no surprise you didn’t see or hear him.”

“He was there before it showed up,” she huffs in frustration. The line of pale in her hair sways into her face and she shoves it back without care, annoyance wrinkling her expression. I bite back the urge to reach out and touch that strand of hair, to feel its silken softness between my fingertips.

Magic shows up in many ways on a witch’s body. Few witches ever have the streak of light. It could be dyed, but something tells me that it’s not. This is Haven as she naturally is. Beautiful. Resilient. Someone who didn’t fit in the outside world and yet survived it regardless.

My cock twitches again, interest stirring in my gut as a vile voice of suggestion whispers into the back of my mind. With her, we could bring back the old ceremonies. The power she possesses, the strength … we could have it all—

I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood. Yes, she’s a witch, and fucking a female witch is something none of us have ever had the privilege of. More than that, though, this woman is something altogether different. She has an emptiness, a void inside of her that we know all too well. It matches our own. I grimace at the tangy blood lingering in my mouth. Wolf-gold eyes flash in my direction as Lyall lifts his head and his nostrils flare in knowing, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.