Page 61 of Unhinged Magic
I smiled wryly. “Better start practicing.”
She raised on her toes, the brush of her low husk on my earlobe making my dick ache even more. “I don’t think I’m going to be the one with the problem,” she drawled, before stepping underneath my arm and away from me, an extra sway in her hips.
I smirked, loving how she could work me up so easily. With my dick still straining against my pants, I said just loud enough for her to hear: “Be ready at eight.”
She turned back to me, her mouth pulled into a wry smile before sudden recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, sorry Iforgot to give you this.” She dug her hand into the side pocket of her tights, pulling out a small envelope.
I took it, frowning in confusion.
“A woman at the cafe gave it to me, she said you dropped it the other day. I haven’t opened it,” she added.
Confusion gnawed at my sides. A woman? This was not my envelope.
I took it from her, an instant hit of dark magic tumbling through me as it connected with my skin.
What the fuck?
“Ah, thanks,” I said, hiding my confusion. I had never seen this envelope before. “Who gave this to you again? I’d like to thank her if I see her around.”
Skye shrugged. “Some lady. She was really pale, slim, had long dark hair tied into a top knot. Sorry, I don’t know her.”
My mind reverted back to the last time I was at Coffee Cove with Skye. I vaguely remembered this woman. She had been sitting at a table on her own and didn’t think twice about demanding Skye’s attention, even when it was clear she was short staffed and under the pump. “Okay all good,” I said, shoving it into my back pocket. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
When she left, I pulled out the envelope in question. It had no name or address on the front.
Who even has envelopes these days?
Turning over the envelope, I slid my hand into it. I pulled out a single piece of paper. At the top was my name. Below it, a simple scrawl.
In magic you cannot foresee, is power that belongs to me. Before the rising of the sun, bring to me the gifted one. Meet me at the iron gate, or yield to me your fated mate.
Below it was the date of the dance.
What the fuck?
Suddenly, a vision slammed into my mind of Morgan’s face, the iron gate at the entryway to the Cutters Cove wolves’ packhouse, the familiar ballroom, and then, a vision of Skye. It came at me so hard that the force of it took the air from my lungs.
Who was this woman? And how did she dothat? I’d never had a vision before. It had nothing to do with my sensor magic. For some reason, she had specifically wanted me to receive this message.
Stone cold dread sank into me as I put all the pieces together.
This woman had been watching me. And she had seen me with Skye. For some unknown reason, she wanted to use me to get something of her own, and Skye had, unbeknownst to her, become her reassurance.
I was being blackmailed.
Skye
TheballroomoftheCutters Cove wolf pack shimmered in the low lighting emulating from the gothic-style chandeliers above me. It captured every sway of fabric, floating to music that drifted from unseen speakers. Chiffon, lace and silk captured my eye the moment we entered the grand room. I had officially died and gone to heaven, soaking up the cuts and colors of every material imaginable.
Every gesture and spoken word dripped with a wealth that was not humble here. Instead, it announced itself loud and proud.
In this establishment were riches earned, fated, and of course, Daddy’s. Many outsider packs envied this pack, its reputation held highest in the nearby districts. They kept our borders tight, ensured the safety of the townspeople, and, although we saw little of them, having the comfort of them here served the very purpose of attending these events.
A smile broke over my face as Morgan and Tyler came into view. I was right. The sleek midnight black dress I helped Tyler pick out for her looked much better off the rack and on her in person.
His distress call had made me laugh, but who was I to deny a brother’s cry for help.
