Page 44 of Predator

“At last. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Remy.”

His name comes out as a gasp. I can’t help it. Since Marie was the one who appeared out of the shadows the last time I headed for witch territory, I guess I thought she’d be the one waiting here. Especially since she sent the note.

Then again, maybe I should’ve known better. On the odd chance that I didn’t fall for it, I can’t imagine she would spend any of her precious time, waiting around the woods for me. Isn’t that what underlings are for?

Just like how Tristan was patrolling near the train station when it rolled in the fateful day I showed up, Remy appeared almost immediately after.

I remember that day vividly. There was Blondie and Ponytail, the two of them circling each other like I was a freaking bone two dogs were fighting over. It’s funny to look back on it now and see all of the warning signs I missed before I knew supes were real, but it doesn’t matter.

I chose Lucas, and even if I’m striking out on my own to see Marie, that has nothing to do with my feelings for him. If anything, I’m trying to prove to my mate that he doesn’t have to be so overprotective. He can love me, take care of me, keep me safe—and I’m going to do my best to do the same for him.

I try not to stare—and fail miserably.

“Look, Fallon,” he says, more teasing than mocking as he draws his pointer finger over the raised red scars on his throat. “We match. Only mine’s not as pretty as yours.”

He’s not wrong. I have a bite mark from Lucas’s fangs and his other teeth. As a shifter, if I hadn’t accepted him as my mate first, the mark would’ve healed with no evidence left behind. It’s one of their quirks. They can choose to keep any scars they have, but if they don’t want them, they’re gone.

Chosen scars are white, not red. Bite marks, though? They have a slight silvery sheen to them that, in a low light, might look pink. It’s how I managed to convince myself that, while Eleanor’s bite was weird, it wasn’t any weirder than other scars I’ve seen on a few humans.

Remy’s mark… it’s vicious. To leave a mark that deep, he must’ve been close to bleeding out after Lucas clawed him. However, instead of healing like other supes, he has a visible reminder how close he came to losing his head because he pissed off an Alpha.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to bring you to Madame.”

Madame… Marie.

“That’s okay,” I lie. “I think I can manage making my way through the woods on my own.”

His slightly accented voice sounds oily as hell as he purrs, “Of course you can. I didn’t mean to insult you, Fallon. It’s just… don’t you remember? I brought you to the coven house upon your arrival. For old times’ sake, let me do so again.”

Ugh. As if I needed a reminder about that.

Before I can refuse him more firmly, he lays his hand on my elbow. The cloak is still covering me from hood to hip so he’s not quite touching me. Tell that to my wolf. I start to growl before he makes contact.

Lucas won’t like it if I come back smelling like another dude. I’m already going to have to make it up to him, heading out to confront my grandmother without him, but explaining how Remy thought it was okay to grab me when I’m bonded? Eleanor was one thing. A male witch?

He might not be cursed to go feral anymore, but I can see him making an exception to go after his rival. Especially since he obviously regrets not making sure that Remy stopped breathing after the witch stabbed Remy, then used an offensive spell to zap me in the back and send me flying.

I was knocked out from the hit. If Lucas hadn’t found me before Remy did whatever he wanted to with my unconscious body… I don’t know what would have happened.

I’m growling, but Remy tuts. “Don’t forget, Fallon. There is a truce between our coven and the wolves. You wouldn’t want to break it, would you?”

He shifts his arm, sliding it so that he has it stretched across my shoulders, palm landing on my bicep.

Oh, fuck no.

I shake him off. Considering I’d rather grow my claws a little and slice his hand off at the wrist, he should be grateful that that’s all I do. “Truce?” I echo. “What part of this imaginary ‘truce’ of yours meant it was okay to lob a spell at me that knocked me to the ground?”

“That was a misunderstanding?—”

“Bullshit.”

His dark eyes light up. “Feisty Fallon. Jolie… she wasn’t this feisty. I like it.”

Too bad. “Which way to my grandma’s house?”

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