Page 90 of Craved By a Wolf

Gods, it was wrong of him, but he hoped she was so angry that she came after Godiva, because it would show him how deep her feelings for him ran. He needed to see that now more than ever.

“Vow it.” Godiva swept her hand through the air.

MacKinnon’s body suddenly felt heavier and he stumbled a step forwards, placing his right foot out in front of him to stop himself from falling, and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes on Godiva, battling the urge to tear her apart now.

“I vow it,” he grumbled, reminding himself that now was not the time for his revenge.

Hella was out there, hurting and angry with him, and he needed to find her. The quicker he set about doing that, the easier it would be to track her down.

“Lift this curse,” he growled and took a step towards Godiva.

“I can’t.” She stared into his eyes, her face a cool mask even as he flashed fangs at her.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” he barked and took another hard step towards her. “Listen to me, you vile bint, and listen well—”

“It’s a curse, dummy,” she interjected as she eased down onto a chair and again looked ready to pass out. “It broke the moment you brought her to me.”

So he had vowed not to kill her for no reason. Godsdammit. He growled at himself now, feeling like an idiot for not putting two and two together, but then he had never been cursed before. His growl became a snarl of frustration as he realised that if he had told Hella about the way to break his curse rather than keeping it secret from her, she probably would have pointed out that he only had to bring her to Godiva in order to break it. He didn’t actually have to betray her or do anything sinister.

Hell, his wee witch probably would have insisted they visit Godiva together, thus freeing him of the curse.

“Hear me well, witch.” He flashed fangs with each word, driving his point home. “You come near me, my clan or Hella again and I will end you.”

Godiva merely waved him away, a disinterested look on her face. “Be gone. I have important matters to attend to.”

Kin snorted. “If you think to win the nymph back, think again. He wants Hella as his bride.”

Her dark eyes widened. “He what?”

He relished how horrified she looked, how he had rattled her with only a handful of words, but then his smile faded. Ethyrian did want Hella, and now she was alone, no doubt returned to her home in Geneva.

Vulnerable.

Everything inside him howled at him to move and he was out of the door in a flash, his heart thundering as he bounded down the stairs and out into the street.

Because his fated female was in danger.

Kin skidded to a halt at the end of an alley, breathing hard.

His fated female.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart drumming hard, and focused on himself, shutting the world out. A feeling grew inside him, becoming more powerful by the second as he thought about Hella. Need rolled through him, an urge so strong that it overwhelmed all reason, had him running again, frantically following the warren of alleyways towards the main street.

He growled as he hit it and barrelled through the crowd, wild with a need to reach his destination, because his female was in danger.

His fated female.

He felt it all the way to his bones—to his soul.

Hella was the other half of that soul, the one female in this world who had been made for him to love, to cherish and protect. Hella was his true mate and Godiva had discovered it at great cost to her health and had brought them together. He growled, far from happy about that, torn in two by it. He despised the witch and her curse, but at the same time, he owed the bitch. He might have never found Hella without her.

Kin made it to Abigail’s shop. The bell above the door tinkled and he tried to slow as a brunet male dressed in a long fitted black coat stepped out of the store, but he was going too fast. He bumped into him, knocking him back into the door as it closed behind him. The male turned cold dark eyes on him and the air charged in a way Kin had never felt before.

He didn’t smell the tinny scent of magic or feel the familiar electrical spark.

The air chilled as if the temperature had plummeted to an Artic level and a weight pressed down on him as the male witch’s eyes narrowed on his, his lips thinning as his jaw clenched.

And then the son of a bitch looked over his shoulder, through the glass in the door, pushed his black-rimmed glasses up his nose with his index finger and relaxed as he stepped towards Kin.

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