Page 235 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 2

The buzzing of Kass’s alarm woke him. He flung out his hand and his phone jumped the few inches into his palm. He silenced it without looking. He hadn’t been drunk last night, but he was gritty and tired. Tension thrummed through his body, tangling with the pre-deployment nerves. There was a gnawing in his guts like he was forgetting something, but he didn’t know what.

For several seconds he lay there, eyes closed trying to work out why he felt so weird. His magic was fine, but there was something else there. Then the kiss bloomed in his mind and his dick hardened like he was eighteen.

He groaned.

Bailey.

He pressed his lips together. He’d been handling magic since he was thirteen. He knew what it tasted like and even though he had doubted the kiss in the heat of the moment, what had happened after left no doubt that there was a bond between them. In the pre-morning light he remembered the way Bailey had been startled too, before denying he was a shifter.

He’d deny being a witch too, if a stranger asked.

There’d been a couple of times when someone had jokingly suggested that he must use magic to make the shots. He always laughed and mentioned hours at the range, and it wasn’t a lie. Magic had to be practiced and directing a bullet over a couple of klicks wasn’t easy and he had to figure out the magic and the math.

And now he had a mate to further complicate things.

Some man he didn’t know was now enmeshed in his life. He didn’t want that. All he’d wanted was a bit of fun. But out of all the clubs in the world, in Sydney, and in an entire club of people, they’d found each other.

He’d never been there; the club had been Smithy’s choice. What were the odds?

He couldn’t start to do the math on that one.

Rare.

Finding a mate was almost a fairy tale for little witches. One shifter to match their magic. One kiss to bind their lives. But there were always consequences when it came to magic, and having a mate wasn’t without danger to both of them.

Yeah, he needed to call the Coven and get this fixed. He checked the time and knew the phone would be answered even if their office doors weren’t open. He hit call.

“Hello, bakery. How can I assist?” A woman’s too chirpy voice asked.

The front might be a bakery—that made delicious Danishes—but the business hid the true workings of the Coven. A place where witches and shifters and a few other lesser known beings could solve problems they had with humans, the law and each other. The Coven had their own set of rules that were meant to be followed to keep everyone safe. That included no fancy shows of magic or shifting in well-populated places where people might see.

And definitely no trapping of mates. There was a long and bitter history between witches and shifters because witches had abused the bond, and then shifters had retaliated. Had Bailey already reported him?

It had been an accident, but he couldn’t quite regret the kiss. He wanted Bailey too much in those few seconds. Because of the bond and magic. That’s all it was.

“Hello?” She asked, her tone more serious.

His mouth dried. He had to speak. “I need to talk to someone about…about a mate.”

There was a slight pause. “I can help you. Can I have your name?”

“Kassidy Robinson.” His parents had taken him to the bakery when his magic had developed at thirteen. They’d bought him cake and he spent the afternoon being lectured on witch rules and responsibilities. The three witches had also examined his magic, giving him a few refinement lessons and warnings about showing off to his school friends. He’d pushed those boundaries, testing how much he could do before people started lifting an eyebrow. He’d gotten really good at basketball and tennis before his parents had words with him.

The clicking of keys echoed down the line as she looked him up. “And you’re registered as?”

He was damn sure he was the only Kassidy Robinson, but he followed the protocol. “Witch, telekinetic.”

“What is your mate issue, Kassidy? I will remind you it is frowned upon to go mate hunting.”

“I wasn’t in a paranormal bar.” There was one in Sydney, but he’d never been. “I was in a human night club and I…” paused knowing he was about to out himself to a stranger but didn’t see a way around it. “Kissed a guy, and it felt like something.”

Could he sound lamer?Ohhh, I kissed someone and there were legit sparks and now I can’t get him out of my head.This wasn’t a dating hotline. He shook his head, about to apologize and hang up.

“Can you describe it in more detail?”

“Are you having a lend?”

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