Page 55 of The Blood Witch

Ferus nodded, giving an affirmative grunt. “Saw her when she came in. I can grab her for you, if you want?” he offered, but Alastair shook his head.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll go find her. I figure I should warn her about my father before we leave.”

Ferus blinked. “You’ve already warned her, boss.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t be too warned when it comes to dear old Dad,” Alastair said. He shrugged his suit jacket on, giving the lapels a shake to straighten it, and flicked a bit of lint from the shoulder.

Why had he even agreed to this? He’d avoided seeing his father for the last couple of years, only stopping by the family estate to feed andvisit his brother when he knew the deSanguine wouldn’t be in residence. The last message that his father had left with Callum, though, had been straight to the point. A date, and a time, with a note instructing Alastair to bring his betrothed.

His betrothed? Who the fuck even talked like that anymore?

Alastair had been sorely tempted to send the note back cut into little pieces but eventually decided against it. For Fey, he’d make an effort. For his brother Callum, he’d make an effort.

And if the old man overstepped, Alastair could just kill him, right?

Right.

Better yet… he’d let Fey do it. Yeah. He liked that idea. She would make it hurt. She’d tear him to pieces with that new, deliciously deadly power of hers.

Alastair straightened his cuffs as he approached the unmanned bar, eyes flickering over the room, before they settled on an open door.

Ah, the stockroom.

The door was ajar, the light on, and he could hear Fey and Jasper’s voices coming from inside. Alastair slipped behind the bar, maneuvering his way toward them. The door made no sound when he pushed it further open, and Alastair smiled, excited to see her. Excited to spend the evening with her, even if it meant spending dinner with his asshole of a dad.

But as the door shifted open, Alastair wasn’t prepared for what he saw. He froze in the doorway, the smile slipping from his face, as the scene inside the stockroom unfolded before him.

Fey, perched on a stack of boxes, leaning back, her body deliciously arched as she stared up at the male above her.

And Jasper, leaning over her, hands on either side of her body, lips hovering above hers. Close enough to touch.

Close enough that he could have kissed her.

Alastair moved without a single thought. He closed the space between the doorway and them in a fraction of a second. Wrapping his arm around Jasper’s neck, he yanked him backward, pulling his body tight against him.

Jasper was a powerful Shifter in his own right, and the growl hemade would have sent a lesser man scrabbling. Claws dug into Alastair’s arm, tearing at his suit jacket, as Jasper’s fingers shifted.

“Well, well, well.” Alastair ignored Jasper’s growl, ignored the confusion in Fey’s eyes, ignored the sting of those claws digging into his flesh. Something hot and angry burned in his chest, and it wanted violence. It wantedblood. “Doesn’t this look fucking cozy, hm?”

At the sound of Alastair’s voice, Jasper’s growl faded away, and he relaxed in Alastair’s grip, the claws disappearing.

“Hey boss,” Jasper said, angling his face slightly to look back at him, his voice a little breathless. “We were just talking about you.”

“What are you doing, Alastair?” Fey asked. He recognized the anger in her voice. Recognized the warning there. And he ignored it.

“Oh, I think the better question is, what areyoudoing, Witchling? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Alastair asked, tightening his hold hard enough he could feel bones shift under his grip.

Jasper’s lips curled to a smile. “Maybe,” he said, holding his gaze without fear. “Care to join?”

“Let him go,” Fey demanded.

Rage boiled inside him. Howdareshe be angry at him? How dare she take Jasper’s side?

Goddess, he was so, so hungry. The world felt strangely distant, like he was in a dream.

“What’s wrong, Witchling? Scared I’ll hurt your little toy?” Alastair twisted his head to speak into Jasper’s ear, his breath tickling the Wolf’s skin. “She’s mine, puppy. Remember that.”

“I remember,” Jasper gasped. He wasn’t struggling, wasn’t fighting. But his body had tightened at Alastair’s words.

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