Chapter 8
JASE
I’m so fucking furious. It’s making me insane. I’m trapped. And those fuckers could come back here and how the fuck can I stand by and do nothing? I won’t have a choice.
She’s sitting on the floor, crying. Probably because I’m livid and haven’t hid it. She’s smart, so smart. So, how did she wind up doing something this damn stupid?
I can’t think straight. But I need to. I need to figure out a way out of this. I’m too far away from my council brothers for them to feel something’s wrong. They’ll expect to hear from me within a day or two because of course I’d let them know when Danica and I safely made the drop.
But the fact that we’re not holding the artifacts, the fact that Danica took off, dropping Bailey off at my hotel and not speaking to me has me thinking I was played.
Maybe we both were. Played by the Young witches to put me and Bailey somewhere where I’d suddenly recognize her scent. But why the fuck here?
She has never smelled like apples before.
And I just started dreaming about them again after years of not having those dreams, so I did wonder if I was dreaming of my mate’s smell.
If I was being introduced to it in my dreams so I’d know it when I found it.
As soon as she fell into me in that car, it was crystal clear. And shocking as fuck.
I know full well that the Young coven played games to get Tyson and Ivy together.
To get Mason and Amie together. I don’t know if they set any of the Grey and Stacy events in motion, but there was all sorts of coven involvement surrounding Riley’s mating and the ensuing seven years of grief for him.
Are we another couple of chumps? More targets of this meddling coven?
How long before they figure out they fucked up and put us in the clutches of a dark magic hungry Starling witch?
I blow out a long breath in an effort to calm myself down. So I can think. Is there an expiry on this thing? Is there anything I can have her do to get us out of this without putting her in harm’s way?
My throat is like a desert. And the odor of this flower is cloying, clawing at all my senses, driving me half-mad. And beyond that, smelling her, knowing now that she’s supposed to be mine. Wanting to dive into that smell with nothing in between us…
It hasn’t fully sunk in, I guess. Because all this other shit is in the way.
And Bailey is sitting beside me, crying. Her shirt is still nearly halfway unbuttoned and driving my cock half-around the bend to the degree I can see me using it to drill straight through this bubble I’m in to get to her.
Bailey Blackwood. My closest friend’s little sister. The bookish, little librarian with a body made for sin who’s been crushing on me since she was in pigtails. Fuck sakes. What’s Grey gonna think about this? I don’t know what I even think about this.
All I know is I’m pissed at her and maybe for no good reason because evidence points to those Young witches setting us up, obviously not realizing what this Starling witch had planned.
And I’m also pissed because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
I can’t protect her, can’t claim her. And I can’t seem to calm my shit down, either.
Testosterone keeps flooding my adrenals and I’m a cornered, trapped predator. I am pure rage.
Footsteps again. I hear the door creak open and the light flicks on so I fly to my feet, moving close to the bottom of the staircase so I can block whoever it is from getting anywhere near her.
I hold steady despite the nausea.
It’s the second guy, not the one who drove or who carried her down here. He’s holding a bag out. He looks intimidated.
“Food,” he says and sets it on the steps halfway down.
I have no idea how long since she last ate, but I don’t trust these assholes, so I say, “Shove it up your ass.”
“She should drink something. Nothing’s been opened.”
He’s got an accent, but speaks perfect English.
“What do you want with us? We don’t have what she’s after.”
“I have a pillow and blanket for her, too.” He backs up and disappears through the open door. I rush up but hit an invisible wall at the doorway. This shield around me is too large for me to squeeze through.
“Fuck!” I shout.
The other guy steps up and the witch moves in to stand behind him, fear in her eyes.
“Unless you want a war, I suggest you call Grey Blackwood,” I say. “I wanna talk to him. I’ll negotiate to get you the artifacts.”
She raises her eyebrows in surprise and disbelief.
“I don’t give a fuck about that wand,” I say. “I do give a fuck about getting out of here with my mate.”
She laughs. “Yet you were willing to see it safely to the archives? I doubt you don’t care if I get my hands on it.”
“Get Greyson Blackwood on the phone. Maybe I can swing a deal. You let Bailey leave, giving over her phone and bag and when she gets home safely and un-fucking-touched, they’ll come back with the artifacts and get me out of this spelled bubble. Unless you have the ability to do that?”
I hate the thought of letting her out of my sight, of trusting them to let her go, but I don’t want that other fucker near her. My gut tells me the younger one isn’t the threat the other one is. I did not like how the other one looked at her. I don’t want his filthy mitts on her again.
“Danica Young already delivered them to the archives,” she states. “They’re no longer in Young coven possession. We have to deal with the Supernatural Council Collective to get them back now. I can’t help with your magic shield. That has to be managed by the coven that put it on you.”
“It was crafted by someone in your coven,” I tell her.
She frowns. “Aphra?”
“Can you get it off me?”
“As if I’d put myself in the line of fire with you.
No, thank you. I asked Fab to bring those items to keep your woman comfortable until Danica arrives.
Danica’s eldest sister has been informed you’re here and I told her we’re leaving before she arrives.
I’ve been summoned home. Please accept the blanket and pillow as well as the food to sustain your woman until she arrives.
You look strong enough to withstand that wait yourself.
She’s welcome to use the bathroom before we leave.
But we won’t hesitate to prevent her from harming one of us if needed.
I promise the food and beverages have not been tampered with. ”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I’m under orders by my coven. And I’d like to extend my apologies on behalf of my coven for my lapse in judgement.”
Like I’d trust anyone in that coven. And I sure don’t fucking believe she’s sorry, either.
Probably just sorry she didn’t get her hands on that wand because now she’s got egg on her face.
At least it sounds like Anya Starling isn’t looking to go to war with us.
My guess is she got wind of how much power Grey and Erica have and don’t want to get on the wrong side of them.
“I want to speak to someone from home,” I demand.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “I’ll reach out.”
The guy in front of her holds the blanket and pillows out. I can’t accept them, so I back down three steps. He drops them on the top step before shutting the door and locking it.
Bailey’s eyes are puffy from crying, and she shoots a suspicious look at me before averting her gaze and pulling her lips into a tight line.
“We’ll be out of here tomorrow,” I tell her, pacing some more. Of course I know she just heard all that; I hate the look on her face right now so feel like I have to say something.
I feel like I’m in the wrong skin. The wrong place.
And fuck, I wish we could do this over. I wish she’d stayed home and I could’ve figured this out there, without this between us, without me spouting off in anger and frustration.
Because I’ve hurt her feelings now. Though I know I’ve been doing that a while already.
I grew up in a house outnumbered by females with strong personalities, emotional personalities, so I know I’ve got work ahead of me.
I couldn’t help but hurt her feelings thinking she was carrying this torch for me that wasn’t going away, hoping she’d set her sights elsewhere before I identified my mate.
I’ve been wigging out for weeks now about the pending mating thing.
And now there’s this bullshit in the way.
Of course there is. It’s Arcana Falls and the first four had to wade through a whack of drama before getting to the easier part. Why would I rate an easy ride?
Fuck, I hope Linc and Joel get off easier than this. Because this drama shit surrounding finally knowing who’s mine getting in the way of what’s supposed to be the good part… it sucks.
“Bailey,” I say.
She huffs, but doesn’t look at me.
“Bay?”
Her light brown eyes dart to me and … shit… that’s some angry fire blazing in them.
Fuck, she has pretty eyes. Our eyes are nearly the same color, mine a darker brown.
Same goes for our hair, though mine is a little lighter than her natural color.
My thoughts flit to pups with her. I’ve got nieces and nephews and I love kids.
Bailey is great with the kids in the pack.
Putting on puppet shows for them in the library, doing different voices for each character.
I’ve watched her doing crafts with them, being patient with them when I’ve stopped by to drop off or pick up one or more of my nieces or nephews. A strange, new affection rises in me.
My thoughts now flit to Sherry, and what she’s just gone through, being identified by that asshole brother of Stacy’s.
And I wonder how she’s doing, if she’ll find someone else and give me more nieces and nephews.
My thoughts don’t stay there long, because at least Sher is surrounded by family right now.
And that fucker is nothing but a pile of chewed bones we threw into the river at the same place that other Starling witch fell.