Page 47
“What?”
“You said there’s a curse, but what is it? Are you going to tell me?”
“No.” He scowls.
We leave the relative safety of his house. He’s got his own village out here, a collection of houses surrounding his. There seems to be a main gravel road that winds through them, with driveways branching off. But like Kian, everyone else seems content to get around on their own two feet.
Or four.
He doesn’t seem to notice—or care—that I’m not wearing shoes. Rocks dig into my feet, and I limp along next to him until he moves silently to the side of the road. To a strip of grass.
I don’t thank him. If he wanted to save me the trouble, he could’ve given me my shoes back. But I am glad I can walk normally. My toes dig into the soft green, and I draw in little bits of energy with every step. It’s about as subtle as I can make it.
I spot a covered motorcycle tucked against the house we’re rapidly leaving behind. There’s a truck next to it. Beyond the collection of houses is a large warehouse with four garage doors, currently closed tight. If the other houses have vehicles, they’re hidden away like Kian’s.
Does he keep the keys to the truck inside it?
Or maybe in the house somewhere, like the kitchen?
I wouldn’t last five minutes trying to outrun a wolf pack, but driving…
We keep going to an even larger building that seems to be at the center of their homes. It’s one story with a wide wraparound porch. Beside it is a clearing with a fire pit in the center and logs, presumably for sitting, circling it.
It would be charming if I wasn’t sick to my stomach. There are wolf shifters heading toward the door, and some cast ugly glances my way.
“Ready to meet the pack, witch?”
I try to pull free, but it’s too late to turn around. And really, I’d rather not look like a scared rabbit in front of all these bloodthirsty murderers.
How many covens have they decimated?
They’re under his control. That should bring comfort—because Kian doesn’t want me dead yet—but a tingle of fear rushes down my spine. I don’t trust him not to sic them on me if I speak out of turn or argue or… anything that I seem to be unable to avoid.
Is it my fault my mother raised me to be headstrong?
No.
Maybe.
Just keep your mouth shut, you’ll be fine.
We enter the building. It seems to be a lodge of sorts. Most of the space is taken up by tables and chairs. There’s a swinging door in the back with an open window beside it, giving me a glimpse of an industrial kitchen.
Those who eat together… I don’t know the rest of that saying. But it probably isn’t good.
But I suppose it means they don’t just feast on live animals. Casserole aside. Actually, that casserole was surprisingly delicious. Did it come from here? Packaged to-go for their precious alpha? They probably would’ve spit in it if they knew I was going to be eating it, too.
My gaze flicks around, although I try to be discreet. I’m drawing all of the attention, probably due to the Mark crawling up the left of my neck.
Pack hierarchy is clear in this room. We stride down the center aisle. In the front are the wolves who must be Kian’s betas. I spot Jessamine sitting beside a tall, lanky redhead, another slender woman, a second man. They occupy the table front and center. Spreading out behind them are more women and men who just have different energy about them. There are definitely more men here. Two or three men for every one woman. I don’t think I trust a she-wolf, but males scare me infinitely more.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I tense, digging my heels in a bit. It comes too late, though, because we’ve arrived at the front of the room. He turns us to face his pack.
“Greetings,” Kian says, and the murmuring stops.
He doesn’t raise his voice—duh. Wolves have heightened senses. No use shouting when the whole room can hear a pin drop. I’d do well to remember that if I want to escape.
Escape… that reminds me. I haven’t yet figured out how my mother transported me and how the hell Kian found me. What was it he said outside the room? That I called to him?
