Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Mitchell stared at the man sitting across from him. He couldn’t have looked more like a witch if he was dressing up for Halloween. He had curly dark hair, wore black long sleeves, even though it was the middle of summer, and had chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. At the neck of his shirt, a silver pentacle was just visible.
They were mates?
The thought echoed around his head as though it couldn’t find a place to land and become real. The first questions that formed on his tongue were rather stupid.
But he needed to ask them, anyway.
“Are you sure we’re mates?”
He’d be able to feel it if he had a mate, wouldn’t he? But then, with everything else going on, he had been distracted.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” And Penrith seemed thrilled about that, despite the light scent of lust now clinging to his skin.
“How?”
“I felt the bond form when I gave you my blood. Because it was also a life-and-death situation, it made the bond instant rather than gradual. There were some who hoped it would fade if we had no contact.”
“And it didn’t.”
“No. It did not.”
“But you wanted it to.” Of course, he did. Why would a witch like Penrith want a wounded wolf for a mate? He pushed away the dark thoughts. He’d spent too much time entertaining them over the last four months. “You don’t want a mate.”
Penrith’s dark eyes cut into Mitchell. “I didn’t expect it. Maybe if I’d had longer…but you didn’t. As it was, I nearly lost you a couple of times before help arrived. And even after that, it was touch and go for a couple of weeks. I got my affairs in order in case you died. I’ve had time to work through the shock and anger.”
Mitchell was caught somewhere in shock that he even had a mate. “Why didn’t you come and visit me in the hospital?”
Penrith shook his head. “I wasn’t allowed to see you or contact you in case I coerced you into keeping this bond.”
Mitchell blinked, trying to figure out what had happened and how he’d spent the last four months oblivious to the fact he was a familiar. However, it explained his need to see Penrith.
Penrith licked his lower lip and leaned forward. “I’m tied to my desk until this matter is resolved because, technically, I’m now a shifter binder, which doesn’t look great on my record.”
Mitchell frowned. Chunks of memories were missing, and he needed Penrith to walk him through it. “What actually happened? Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t want a dying wolf as your mate.” That magic bound their lives together. “It makes no sense.”
“True, but these are the rules we are working with, and I’d rather the rules be followed, even in a case like this, because it stops the assholes from getting away with it.” He took a sip of his coffee and drew in a breath. “I offered you my blood and magic so I could keep you alive. You licked my blood, consenting to be kept alive. You didn’t consent to becoming a familiar.”
“And you didn’t consent to taking a mate.”
Penrith inclined his head in agreement. “I’ve sat through many meetings, case reviews, and an official tribunal of my actions. So I can conclusively say that does not matter.”
“That’s a bit shit. If you’d known we were mates before offering your blood…which eww, by the way.” He’d licked Penrith’s blood. The witch had been in him. Was he still in him because of the bond? “Would you have let me die?”
Penrith was motionless for a couple of seconds. “Everyone has asked that question. So I’ll give you the same answer I’ve given them. You wanted to live, and I facilitated that. If you hadn’t accepted the blood?—"
“I’d be dead, and you’d be free and not waiting for this issue to be resolved, by which you mean what, exactly?”
“If you want the bond broken, I must surrender my magic.”
“Whoa.” Mitchell leaned back in his chair. “Why did nobody speak to me about this?”
It seemed kind of important. Not one of the people, doctors, Coven agents, or psychs who’d spoken to him had mentioned anything.
“Because they wanted to wait and see.”
And leave Penrith hanging. Fuck, that did not seem right at all. The witch had saved his life, and he couldn’t turn around and demand he surrender the magic. Magic that was the reason he was alive.
“What happens now? Do I need to decide right now?” He didn’t want to take the witch’s magic, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a familiar either. He was a wolf, and wolves weren’t familiars.
“No, but there are people within the Coven who want to speak to you. They will want your side of events.”
“I’ve already spoken to people about my capture.” And he didn’t want to go through that again.
“They will want to know what you remember of the bond creation.”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Did I really lick your blood?”
“Yes. That’s how my magic works. To save you, I needed to be in you.”
Mitchell pressed his lips together to smother the laugh that wanted to form. He failed and put his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s not actually funny.”
But he wanted to hear Penrith say it again, preferably when they were both naked. It had been over five months, and it wasn’t as if going out to clubs and picking up was an option. He didn’t even want to use an app in case he met up with someone, and they recoiled in horror at the state of his leg. It shocked him some days. There was too much muscle missing for it ever to look normal again. And he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with only his hand for company. The dark thoughts nibbled at the edges of his mind again. Was Penrith and the bond the only reason he forced himself through each day instead of quitting?
The corner of Penrith’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “I can also use my magic in that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re full of blood, and I’m a blood witch. Use your imagination.” Penrith’s gaze dropped as though he could see Mitchell’s crotch through the table, then he lifted his gaze, and a grim line replaced the smile. “However, I am not allowed to use my magic until this issue is sorted, nor am I allowed to draw on you.”
“So I have two choices. Break the bond or keep the bond?”
“Correct.”
“What would you do?”
Penrith grimaced and shook his head. “I can’t answer that.”
“Why not?” There was no one nearby. They were alone. Weren’t they? Oh, someone was watching and listening with magic, and if they thought Penrith was coercing him, he’d be in trouble. More trouble.
They stared at each other; this was the first time they’d met as men. Yet, the bond they shared had the power to destroy their lives or make them something bigger than both of them.
And while he knew about fated mates, he’d never met anyone with a mate. “What does the bond mean to you?”
“The bond is either purely magic-based or a relationship.” Penrith sounded as though he were reciting a textbook.
“And you can’t tell me what you want, expect, or hope for.”
And as much as he wanted to run his fingers through his hair and ask what the fuck about half a dozen times, he didn’t because there was a certain calmness within him that it would be okay. Was that Penrith? For the last four months, he’d been living with this connection without noticing it was there.
“Correct.”
It was all on him. He now held Penrith’s future in his hands, the same way Penrith had held his. All he could do was offer the witch the same choice he’d given him. “Do you want to live?”
Mitchell reached his hand out over the table.
Penrith looked at the hand, then up at Mitchell. “Whatever you decide, I will live with.”
He snatched his hand back, wishing he hadn’t made the offer. What had he expected Penrith to do? Grab it and be excited at the idea of being stuck with him? “That is the biggest non-answer ever.”
“We are being listened to, and I am being honest. There are things I cannot answer without dropping myself into a bigger pile of shit. Now, if things were different…”
The hair on Mitchell’s arms stood on end.
Penrith leaned back and put his hands flat on the table as the woman who had served Mitchell’s coffee stepped up to the table.
“I think it’s time you come inside, Mr. Wright.”
Mitchell shook his head. “I want him to answer my question. I want to know what he wants.”
Penrith hadn’t moved.
“He’s not in more trouble, is he? He saved my life. This is bullshit.”
“These are the rules. They keep everyone safe,” Penrith said as though it was a mantra he had told himself many times over the last four months.
“If you could come with me, Mr. Wright,” the woman said as if neither of them had spoken.
Mitchell snatched up his cane and stood. He winced as pain shot through his ankle and the thigh of his other leg. It took a couple of seconds before he could move. “Will I be able to see Penrith after?”
She gave him a tight smile.
Oh my God, they were treating Penrith like some kind of criminal. “If you don’t trust him, why was he allowed to see me?”
“Because he is your mate, and you specifically asked to speak to him,” the woman said.
“Then I’m specifically asking that he come with us.”
He felt more than heard Penrith’s sigh. He was sure the witch was about to tell him that wasn’t how it was done, but Mitchell didn’t care.
“Agent Flint will return to his office.” That sounded like an order.
“Okay…and where am I going?” And would he be able to see Penrith again afterward? They needed to sort this out, talk, and decide what the bond would be because he already knew he wouldn’t ask for it to be broken.
“To speak to some people so we can hear your side of things.” She smiled as though that was obvious.
All he’d wanted to do was thank Penrith for saving his life and ask the Coven to help him find a job. Now, he was going to be questioned about something he couldn’t even remember.
And he had a mate.
A part of him thought he should be celebrating. The rest of him was mortified that he would burden Penrith with his problems.
Penrith didn’t need to deal with him if they weren’t mates.
But if they weren’t mates, Penrith wouldn’t have magic or a job, and the life he was living and enjoying would be over. Two lives didn’t need to be ruined.
For once, this was a mess not of his making.
He glanced at Penrith.
“Go, it will be fine.” His hands remained flat on the table. He had nice hands with long fingers. For a moment, Mitchell imagined him playing the piano. He could almost hear the notes.
Was that his imagination, or was that the bond?
Penrith turned his head and glanced up at him. “Make your statements. Someone will tell me the outcome.”
He acted as though he didn’t care either way.
Mitchell realized that while Penrith couldn’t say what he wanted, he should be able to tell exactly what Penrith wanted because of the bond. And he should be able to use the bond to get to know him better.
“I want the bond,” Mitchell blurted out. He didn’t remember anything from that night, anyway. His statement would consist of only three words, I don’t remember. More importantly, he didn’t want to remember. Nor could he take away somebody else’s life or magic. “There, is everything sorted?”
Penrith was still looking at him, and his expression hadn’t changed, as if he knew the matter was far from sorted.