Page 9 of Taming the Wicked Wolf

I try to stifle a laugh, clearing my throat instead while I busy myself behind the bar.

Kyle glances over his shoulder for a second, “No matter, we’ll have two Millers and a Guinness.”

“Fine,” she huffs out, motioning her wrist to shoo him off. “Go.”

He pushes away from the bar and crosses the floor to join his friends in the booth at the far end of the room.

At least I don’t have to stare at him for the rest of the night, though Ricky and Isaac are looking at me like I owe them money.

“So gross,” Carly Beth turns to me, brushing off her arms with a shake.

I grab the beers from the fridge and twist off the caps, setting them on the tray, “How many times has he asked you out so far?”

“None.” She says with a laugh, “Thankfully, I think the poor guy is gun shy.”

Even if Kyle wasn’t 16 years her senior, I still think Carly Beth deserves a lot better than anyone from Chase’s friend group. To think at one point I considered them my friends.

They welcomed me to Moonstone Ridge and even introduced me to their girlfriends at the time. It makes sense that Chase got all of them in the divorce.

“Thanks for that, though. Watching you put him in his place made my night.”

“You gotta set those boundaries, Emmy.” She hums, grabbing the tray, “Or else these men will walk all over you.”

I glare at Carly Beth, and she flashes me a sweet smile, knowing full well that I hate when Kyle uses that nickname.

She’s right, boundaries are an entirely new concept for me, not that Chase would uphold them.

Which is why I’m curious what he’s up to right now. How long before he shows his face again?

FIVE

Silas

I had forgottenhow boring the mortal realm can be, especially when I’m sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

It was different before, back when there wasn’t all this technology. Everything had a sense of urgency. The witches that I would guard were always under attack or on the run. We would hop from town to town or hide deep in the woods until the monsters hunting them would show themselves. But now that they’ve effectively gone into hiding, there’s really nothing for me to do.

To think a simple mortal holds so much sway over a witch as powerful as Emilia, to where she believes she needs a demon to protect her. She could make quick work with him with the right spell.

A single ritual could wipe his memories or sour this pathetic obsession. Though, I know modern witches have a thing against using spells that mess with someone’s free will. Something about morals or the principle of the matter. It’s quite a pity.

In order to stave off my boredom, I’ve taken to reading from that box filled with books that she keeps hidden in the hall closet. Tonight is a particularly entertaining story about a secret agent who uses several fantastical gadgets to gain information about his nemesis, before falling in love with a woman who turns out to be the villain’s estranged daughter.

“She dyed her hair, Poppy,” I say, resting the open book on my thigh, “that’s why Anthony didn’t recognize her in the first few chapters. She was a blonde and wasn’t wearing her glasses in the original file.”

Poppy lifts her head from her spot on the floor in front of the television and stares at me for a moment, then drops with a huff, rolling onto her side.

“Some company you are.” I shift against the couch.

Emilia should be home soon, shouldn’t she?

I have become accustomed to her schedule, partially because there isn’t much for me to do in this small city aside from twiddling my thumbs and because I feel responsible for the dog’s well-being while her owner is away.

It’s odd how fast you can grow attached to such an interesting creature. I mean, the dog, of course.

Not that it’s out of the question for a demon to entangle himself with a witch, that is the whole reason I exist, after all. My father fell for one seeking revenge, let’s hope it’s not a family tradition.

I slip in my bookmark and set the book down on the coffee table then walk into the kitchen, Poppy’s collar rattles and I hear her trailing behind me, claws clacking on the fake hardwood leading into the cramped space.

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