Page 62 of Enspelled

“He’s been punished,” Liam says.

“You’re a wolf,” I remind him. “You don’t give a fuck about witches.”

“And neither should you. But I find it curious that you do.”

My lips tighten in annoyance. “Briar and I have an arrangement.”

The hint of a smile curves his lips. “Anarrangement? Even more curious.”

“Not that kind,” I snap. “The wolf who choked her. Tell me about him.”

“As I said, I’ve punished him.” He nods at the chair I shoved to the floor, and it’s clear what he’s hinting at: Sit. Now.

When he says nothing else, I grind my teeth as I grab the chair from the floor and drop heavily into it. If sitting is all it’s going to take for Briar to survive this, I can sit. But not forever.

Liam nods again. “Since Briar is an oddity around here, a witch who can suddenly shift to a wolf, she’s a curiosity. And because times of intense stress will always prompt a shift…”

“He wanted to see her shift,” I guess.

A wolf chokes her because he wanted to see her shift, that wolf is dead. Whatever punishment Liam thinks he dished out isn’t enough. Not nearly.

My eyes return to the dark bruise, and my wolf growls his fury in my head.

I know.

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t care, particularly after a witch tortured one of mine to death.” Liam’s chilled voice draws my attention back to him. His expression turns so cold that when Briar inches a little away from him, I’m not surprised. To my relief, he releases his hold on her wrist, and she lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“But…?” I probe, sensing he isn’t finished yet.

“Briar Fenix doesn’t seem to be acting very witchlike lately.” Liam angles his head to study her. He stares at Briar for so long that my wolf grumbles at the attention he’s paying her. “Perhaps she never has and none of us noticed.”

“So because she’s not a witch, then…?” My voice trails off.

Finally, he blinks before turning away. “I’m not sure yet. But whatever she is, she’s no wolf.”

My eyes narrow. “Even though she can shift?”

“Even still.” A hint of a smile curves his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t find her interesting.”

My gaze returns to Briar just in time to glimpse a deep blush spilling over her cheeks before she can duck her head.

What the fuck is the deal between them?

“But,” Liam says, drawing my attention to find him rising from his seat as he lowers his glass to the table. “That’s a conversation for another time, and I have an errand to run. Follow me.”

He doesn’t give us a choice to do anything else, just turns and stalks toward a glass door at the back of the room.

Briar gets to her feet and follows, so I do too.

She doesn’t look at me as we follow Liam through the door and out into a manicured back garden with trees set in the distance. But it’s not empty. Men and women stand around, some chatting, others lying on the grass.

Until the moment they clock us and every head turns our way, snarls twisting lips and eyes flashing silver.

The Wolfe pack doesn’t look pleased that I’m here. At all.

Although I shoot Briar a rapid glance, with her head lowered, I can’t read her expression. But her back is tense enough that she must feel the animosity aimed our way.

My one glimpse at the pack house shows it’s just as I thought. A mansion-like red-brick house, with at least five floors, and manicured lawns.

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