Page 2 of The Alpha's Warlock
“What the fuck are you doing here? One flicker of a lie, and you'll be dead in seconds.”
I had to struggle for breath before I could answer, and that was irritating as hell. Yes, I was less than thrilled to have a supernatural apex predator about to rip out my jugular, but mostly I was just cursed. And having him interpret my shortness of breath as pure terror was plain embarrassing.
“You can smell them on me, can't you? The Kimballs,” I panted, and he nodded, his grip on my throat tightening a nearly-puncturing-my-veins fraction. “They kidnapped me. And they started some kind of —” Deep breath. “Ritual.” I forced another breath into my lungs. “I need to see Matthew.”
Was the sun going down again? That wasn't right. It was just coming up. But everything had gotten darker.
Yeah, I was passing out. Everything went black, and Ian's furious face was the last thing I saw.
Chapter 2
At the Mercy of the Pack
Waking up sucked nearly as much as passing out in the freezing-cold mud with an alpha werewolf threatening to kill me, but a lot less than getting chained up and chanted at by a shaman trying to turn me into a slave. So hey, chalk one up in the win column.
I blinked, then blinked again, and then gave up when my vision stayed stubbornly fuzzy. I was dry, and I should have been warm — I was in a bed, and under a pile of blankets — but I was goosebumpy and shivering in spite of what felt like a real feather comforter and a set of flannel sheets.
Looking around the best I could with only half my vision, I caught glimpses of ugly wood paneling, a ceiling painted mustard-yellow, and a few other items of bedroom furniture, probably a dresser and a nightstand and maybe a chair. There was some kind of psychedelic poster on the opposite wall, although thankfully I couldn't see it very well.
Not that anyone had ever accused werewolves of having a lot of aesthetic sense, but seriously? I was probably going to die in a place that looked like a set designer fromThat 70s Showthrew up everywhere.
I tried to sit up, but yeah, still cursed. My muscles quivered with the effort of scooting up the bed and tucking the pillows behind my head a little more firmly to prop it up. There was a faintly musty, mildewy smell that made my esophagus tighten up and bile rise to the back of my throat.
“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone there?” Even if they were going to kill me — or, to save effort and blood clean-up, just let me die — they'd probably give me a glass of water, right?
A second later, heavy footsteps came nearer, and then the bedroom door opened to admit two werewolves, one of them welcome, the other one definitely not.
Matthew Armitage was five years or so older than Ian, but aside from also being an alpha, he didn't have much in common with his younger — definitely notlittle— brother. He wasn't glaring like he wanted me dead ten minutes ago, for one thing. He hadn't liked his cousin Jared very much, maybe because Jared had been an unbelievable prick who openly plotted to take Matthew's place leading the pack. I thought Matthew's stance was pretty reasonable.
Ian, on the other hand, always thought Jared could do no wrong. When Jared died under questionable circumstances, Ian blamed me. After all, if Jared hadn't been glamoured, or ensorcelled, or whatever Ian thought I'd done to get his cousin to fuck a warlock, he wouldn't have had to sneak out of the pack's territory without telling anyone where he was going.
I thought Jared could have solved the whole sneaking-around problem by admitting he was seeing me to his family, but hey, I was biased against being the guy's dirty little secret, so sue me.
“Nate,” Matthew said with a nod. His tone wasn't exactly welcoming, but he didn't seem hostile, either. Ian, glowering behind him with his arms crossed over his massive chest, had that covered for both of them. Matthew just sounded...wary. And I couldn't really blame him, under the circumstances. “Looks like you ran into some trouble with the Kimballs.”
“Looks like he's probably working with the Kimballs to kill you,” Ian grumbled, in the tone of a man who'd already said the same thing twenty times.
Matthew turned his head to shoot him a quelling glance. “You know what they say about assumptions.”
“Yeah, you're already an ass,” Ian shot back.
I really couldn't stand the guy, but if I hadn't been so weak, I would've had to fight not to laugh at the look of disgust on Matthew's face. I'd always wished I had a brother, but these two made me wonder if it was worth it. I'd known all the Armitage boys since we were kids, and I'd soothed the desperate, grinding loneliness and envy I always felt when I saw them together by reminding myself how much they beat each other up and argued.
And then Matthew gently bumped Ian's shoulder with his, a gesture of such understanding affection that my chest ached. Yeah, it was worth it. Too bad my only family had been a father who saw me as a walking magic battery.
“They definitely want to kill you,” I put in, and the brothers turned to look at me in unison, two pairs of eerie light-blue eyes fixed on me with a little too much intensity. So maybe they had a few things in common, despite Matthew's dark hair and slightly less-huge build and general ability not to be a dick. “But I'm not working with them.” I had to struggle for breath to get the rest of the words out. This curse fucking sucked. “More like doing their dirty work for them, if they'd had their way. They kidnapped me last night.”
Matthew's eyes narrowed. “Kidnapped you.”
My cheeks heated, and I couldn't quite make eye contact. His disbelief was kind of flattering, but convincing him was going to require admitting what a fucking idiot I'd been.
“There was this guy, okay? At this bar. He distracted me. And he managed to get enough witchbane in my drink that by the time I realized, I was already too drained to fight back.”
“Distracted you how exactly?” Ian demanded gruffly.
“How do you think?” I snapped. “We were in a club. You do the math.”
Ian made a gagging sound. “Can't keep an eye on your drink when you're bent over in a bathroom stall, right?”
