Chapter 6 – KILLIAN
KILLIAN
I can't stop fucking pacing.
My wolf is losing his shit under my skin, clawing at my insides like he's trying to dig his way out through my ribcage.
"Killian, ease up on the parquet," Rowan says. There's an edge to his voice I don't hear often.
I don't answer. Can't. Tonight we bond our mate, and we need that untrustworthy son of a bitch to make it happen.
My wolf fucking hates that. Hates the vulnerability of letting Villeneuve into our territory, our home, our ritual.
Around our mate.
I'd rather let Sean cook again after the "Dorito Ramen Incident" that had us all puking our guts up. Four vomiting wolves and three bathrooms.
We didn't use the kitchen sink for a month.
Regina stands by the stairs, her glamour up even though I'd rather she didn't. None of us want that. But none of us are going to give her a hard time about it either. If it makes her more comfortable, we'll deal.
She's clearly on edge tonight, her fingers absently tracing the pendant around her neck like a nervous tic. She hasn't taken off Micah's gift since he gave it to her.
Good. Let her be covered in our tokens, our scents, our claim. She's wearing the green dress Sean picked out from her things and begged her to put on, too.
Honestly shocked the idiot has any fashion sense at all when his idea of black tie is a T-shirt with a bowtie printed on it. But Regina likes the dress, and the way it hugs her curves makes my wolf want to howl like a horny fucking cartoon character.
It should make me feel better. All these little signs she's chosen us.
But all I can think about is what's coming.
Sadie sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a circle of weird-ass ritual shit. Dried herbs tied with silver thread, glass vials of shimmering liquid, crystal bowls… it's like she brought everything she had, just in case.
The lunar venom, whatever the fuck that actually is, sits in a central phial—pretty sure that's just witch speak for beer bottle, because they have to make everything sound fancy and important—glowing faintly silver-blue.
"Is everything arranged correctly?" Regina asks.
"Yes, just like the previous two times you asked," Sadie says, but the usual bite is missing from her voice. Even she gets what tonight means. "Everything's here except for the dragon's blood, which the eerily sexy professor is supposedly bringing."
A growl rips out of my chest before I can stop myself.
"Easy, big boy," Sadie says, finally looking up. "This is delicate work. Save that alpha ASMR for your OnlyFans subscribers."
"Fuck off, Glenda," I mutter.
Her eyes narrow into a death glare, and I know that one landed harder than anything else I've thrown at her. "It's Glinda, you culturally illiterate douchebag, and I'm clearly more of an Elphaba."
"Are you sure you can't stay for the ritual?" Regina asks her, a nervous tinge to her voice. Makes my wolf want to tear something apart just to comfort her.
Sadie snorts, pushing herself up with surprising grace considering she's wearing enough metal to set off airport security from a mile away. She looks like a Hot Topic clearance rack grew legs.
"Not a chance in all nine hells. Bonding rituals can get..." Sadie pauses, nose wrinkling. "Sticky. And I don't need the mental images of what's about to happen living rent-free in my head. But you can call me after if you're not all blasted into shimmering smithereens by the end."
"Very comforting, Sadie," Micah mutters.
She shrugs, grabbing her jacket. "I'll be at the Cauldron. Good luck, assuming you don't come to your senses," she calls to Regina.
"Your support means everything," Micah deadpans, but I catch the flash of actual affection between them as Sadie flips him off on her way out.
The door thuds shut. The anxiety in the room cranks up about ten notches. Regina shifts her weight, anxiety tinting her emerald scent so strong I can practically taste it.
"We don't have to do this tonight," I say, crossing to her in three strides. I take her hands and her fingers are cool against my skin, which always runs hot. Shifter thing. "If you're having doubts—"
"I'm not," she says, chin lifting with that stubborn look that makes my wolf rumble in approval. Fuck, I love when she does that. "I'm just... nervous. This is a huge step."
"We'll be with you every moment," I promise, bringing her knuckles to my lips. "All of us."
"Technically, we'll be in her," Sean says, because of course he does. "Like, all of us. At once."
"Dammit, Sean," Rowan groans. "Could you be more inappropriate right now?"
"What? I meant the bond. Our energies will be in her. Get your minds out of the gutter." He grins. "Though now that you mention it—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll rip your tongue out through your ass," I warn him.
Regina laughs, and some of the tension bleeds out of the room. We get to hear that beautiful sound way more now than when she first showed up.
I'm counting that as a win.
The doorbell chimes and we all freeze.
"That's him," Regina says, taking a deep breath.
"I'll get it." I don't bother hiding my disdain.
I head for the door, hackles rising as I catch that weird not-scent that marks Villeneuve. The fucker doesn't smell like anything, which is somehow creepier than if he smelled like death and brimstone. My hand hesitates on the doorknob for half a second before I yank it open.
"Professor," I say, forcing my voice somewhere in the neighborhood of neutral. "Welcome to the shitshow."
Villeneuve stands on our porch looking like he's here for a board meeting instead of an ancient magical ritual.
Suit perfect, posture perfect, expression neutral like he's mildly interested at best. The only hint this matters is the ornate wooden box under one arm and Regina's grimoire and books in his other hand.
"Mr. Underwood," he replies, inclining his head. "Your vocabulary remains as colorful as ever. I trust everything is prepared?"
"As much as it can be without you," I say, stepping aside. Every instinct screams against letting this predator into our den, but I swallow it.
For Regina.
He follows me to the ritual room and I have to hold my inner wolf back like I'm gripping the chain on a junkyard dog.
"Professor," Regina greets him, stepping forward with more confidence than I expected. "Thank you for coming."
"You can call me Villeneuve," Villeneuve says—only to her—and something in his tone makes my shoulders lock up.
"And I wouldn't miss this for the world.
" He hands her the grimoire. "I've made the necessary adjustments to your ritual.
The incantation is more precise now, and I've marked where the dragon's blood must be incorporated. "
"And are you gonna explain how you got dragon's blood on such short notice?" Rowan asks pointedly.
"It's probably the fuckin' incense type," Sean mutters.
Villeneuve ignores him. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "As I said before, I have my sources."
"But you're not going to elaborate," I say. Not a question.
"No," he agrees, way too pleasantly, and moves to examine Sadie's setup. He picks up the phial and holds it up to the light so the liquid swirls inside. "Ah, the Bryer witch has excellent taste in lunar venom. This is high quality."
"Should be," I mutter. "Cost a fucking fortune."
Micah moves closer to Regina, frowning at the grimoire over her shoulder. "This is... different from what you prepared."
"Very different," Regina confirms, her fingers tracing lines of text. "The base structure is similar, but there are substantial modifications to the energy flow." She looks up at Villeneuve. "This is going to be more complex than I anticipated."
"Yes," he admits. "Breaking a coven bond while simultaneously establishing a pack bond for a siphon is rather like performing heart surgery while the patient runs a marathon. It has to be perfect."
"Wait," Sean interrupts, pushing off the stairs. "I thought this was just a standard bonding ritual. Packs take Bondeds all the time. Why is this such a big fucking deal?"
Villeneuve looks at him the way you'd look at a golden retriever who just asked about quantum physics.
"Ms. Cook is not a 'standard' anything. She is a siphon—one of the rarest and most powerful types of witches in existence.
And you four are not a standard pack either.
All alphas, all with unusually strong energy signatures. "
Sean's chest puffs out. He looks my way with a stupid grin. "I think Professor Stick just said we're magically shredded."
"I said no such—" Villeneuve's eyes snap to him. "What did you just call me?"
Sean deflates faster than a balloon. "Oh. It's uh, on account of how hard your classes are. You know. Like... a stick. A stick in the mud. Academic... mud."
Smooth recovery.
Not.
The real reason is because he always acts like he has a stick up his ass, but I'm not saying that out loud.
Villeneuve's eyes narrow, and I can tell he doesn't buy it. But eventually he just shakes his head and decides Sean isn't worth the effort. Smart man.
He moves to the center of Sadie's arrangement, fingers hovering just above the components.
"A normal witch bonding with a normal pack is relatively straightforward.
Ms. Cook bonding with your pack is akin to merging a hurricane with a forest fire.
Both are immensely powerful natural forces with completely different energy signatures. "
"So it's like mixing Red Bull with tequila and cocaine," Sean says, nodding like he's just cracked the Da Vinci Code. "Gotcha."
My stomach drops. "It's that dangerous?"
"It's volatile," Villeneuve corrects, opening the wooden box to reveal a small vial of what looks like glowing liquid ruby.
"Which is why I brought this. Dragon's blood serves as a bridging agent between disparate magical forces.
It will stabilize the transition, making it safer and reducing the likelihood of a rejection. "
A rejection?