Page 9 of The Witch's Spell
“And miss a cup of Aurora’s tea?” Cathal tips his head, his smile sharp. “I don’t think so.”
Hearing him say her name makes my chest flare with heat. I don’t want to hear her name on his tongue ever again.
My fingernails are transforming slowly into claws when Orla steps into the doorway, one hand finding Cathal’s toned arm. “Tea’s ready. Go sit down.”
She’s the only one Cathal will listen to, the only one who can successfully boss him around.
I guess, in a way, Aurora and I aren’t so different. Until she came into my life, no one could tell me a damn thing.
Orla flicks her gaze to me, the yellow in her eyes intense and pointed. One of her brows quirks in the corner.
I might not respect Cathal as my alpha, but I’ve always respected her. And despite not being part of the pack anymore, I still relent, stopping the transformation and forcing my fingers back into their human form.
“One cup of tea,” I say, looking from Cathal to Orla. “Then you’re gone.”
Cathal loops his arm around Orla’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Then he smirks at me again. “Whatever you say, little brother.”
Chapter 7
Rowan
AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, night blankets the land early, and these days I walk back from my duty to Faunwood in the darkness. Some nights are bright, with the moon lighting my way, but tonight, the moonlight is thin, obscured by thick gray clouds.
It was a beautiful winter day, so I was surprised when the storm first appeared on the horizon, moving quickly toward us. One moment it was sunny and I was enjoying a warm scone in the bakery, and the next I stepped outside to feel a bite to the air and smell the cold, crisp scent of snow on the wind. Now, as I trudge home, the snow is already falling, the fat flakes catching on my cloak as I pull my hood closer to my face.
This area is known for turbulent storms, but something about this one feels... different. Like there’s an energy to it, wanting to spin out of control.
I need to get home to Aurora.
Quickening my pace, I tip my head down and press through the snow. Each step I take, more flakes blanket me and the ground, and by the time I make it halfway down Brookside Road, there are already a couple inches on the ground.
This is going to be abigstorm. I may not be a shifter or a witch, but I can still feel it in my bones.
In the distance, made hazy by the snow, a light bobs through the darkness. It swings to and fro, casting a warm golden glow over the trees. As I draw closer, I can make out the face of the person carrying the lantern: Alden.
“Hey!” he calls out over the wind, which has only been growing in strength since I started the trek home.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I step into the circle of light flickering from the lantern held aloft in Alden’s hand.
“Aurora sent me,” he says.
Of course she did, my precious queen. She’s always worried about us, even when she need not be.
“Strange storm,” I remark as Alden turns and we begin back the way he came. Our boots crunch over the snow as the wind whistles through the pines and skeletal white-gray aspens.
“Came on quick,” Alden says in that matter-of-fact tone of his. “Afraid this isn’t the only surprise of the night though.”
I narrow my eyes as my cloak snaps in the wind. “What happened?”
Alden takes a big breath.
And then he tells me.
I have to physically restrain myself from slamming through the front door. There’sanothershifter here? And according to Alden, it’s Faolan’s twin brother, the one who left all those scars marring his body.
One shifter isplenty. Now I’ve got two—no,three—to contend with?
The goddesses must find it hilarious to torment me.
