Chapter 6
CALDER
By ten that evening, I found myself in the kind of bar Thorne would never set foot in, which was entirely the point. The Grave Mistake was little more than a hole in the wall where paranormal delinquents like myself went to drink their problems away. And I had plenty.
This place wasn’t anything like Love Bites, where Thorne was working right this moment.
I shouldn’t know that. I was supposed to be giving her space, not tracking her habits like some obsessed creep.
But I knew her. When Thorne was upset, she didn’t sit still.
She worked. Cleaned. Found something to do with her hands so she didn’t have to think too hard.
I stared at the amber liquid inside my chipped cup. The glass itself was cloudy, covered in years of grime no amount of hot water would ever scrub away. I didn’t care. The whiskey itself tasted like battery acid, and that was exactly what I needed right now.
I signaled the bartender—a hulking ghoul missing half his left ear—for another round.
He limped over and tipped the bottle, refilling my glass.
A suffocating weight settled over my chest. All this time, I’d imagined coming home and living the rest of my life with Thorne at my side. Turns out, I’d been way too optimistic.
Sighing, I threw my head back and downed the whiskey in one brutal swallow, reveling in the burn. I slammed the thick glass down onto the bar and tapped the rim for another.
The bartender started my way, then stopped short, his foggy eyes widening when two shadows fell over me, one on either side. Without a word, they each pulled out a stool and sat.
I didn’t need to look to know who sat beside me.
Evander’s minions. He didn’t travel anywhere without them.
To my left sat a literal mountain of a man. Thick black hair, a beard that bordered on feral, and shoulders wide enough to block out the neon sign on the wall. A bear shifter named Adrian with a notoriously short temper. In other words: the muscle.
To my right was a lithe woman with a deceptively young face, all wide blue eyes and short blonde hair. It wasn’t until you stared into her eyes that you saw her true age. She didn’t broadcast her power like Adrian did. For Wren, it was all about her bloodline. Her Ravenspell bloodline.
She offered me a slow smile, one that wasn’t friendly, and dragged a manicured nail along the edge of my empty glass.
“You look pathetic, wolf,” Wren noted, her voice a venomous purr. “Mind if we crash your pity party?”
I didn’t look at her. I just stared straight ahead at the grease-smudged mirror behind the bar, catching the distorted reflection of the three of us. The ghoul bartender took one look at Adrian’s sheer size, grabbed his dirty rag, and wisely vanished into the back room.
“I’d tell you to go to hell,” I grumbled, my voice rough from the whiskey, “but you’d probably like it there.”
Wren chuckled, her eyes briefly flashing red—a dead giveaway that she was a black witch with a taste for darker arts. Hell would probably feel like a holiday to her.
She reached behind the counter and snagged a bottle of vodka. Without a word, she uncapped the lid and took a long swig. She didn’t even wince.
“What are you even doing here?” I demanded. “I thought your sisters exiled you. You said you couldn’t step foot in town without them noticing.”
Wren’s smile sharpened. “I have my ways. Exile only works if your sisters can see you coming.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you should worry less about how I got in and more about what’s gonna happen if you don’t finish this job.” She lowered the bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Evander expected you back with the artifact already.”
“It’s only been a few days.”
“A few days is all it should’ve taken,” Wren countered.
“I told you I need time. It’s not like the artifact is sitting on a shelf at the local pawn shop. It’s locked inside your family estate.” I pinned her with a glare. “You know exactly how difficult it is to break into the Ravenspell estate.”
She shrugged and took another drink. “That’s not my problem. It’s yours. And Evander sent us to remind you of your deal. The artifact for your freedom.” She tipped the bottle slightly in my direction. “Oh, and your wife’s life. Can’t forget that little detail.”
“Keep Thorne out of this,” I warned, my voice dropping.
“You should’ve kept her out of this,” Wren snapped. “Did you forget the rules? You weren’t supposed to contact her. You were supposed to get in, grab the artifact, and get out. But you just had to go see her your first night back, didn’t you?”
My jaw tightened. I wasn’t going to explain the finer points of mating bonds to a witch—let alone one like Wren. Love and loyalty were weaknesses in her eyes. Her tastes ran more toward pain and torment.
“You’ve been watching me,” I growled.
Wren gave a lazy shrug. “You. Her. The bar. The condo. Honestly, wolf, you make it very easy.”
“We’ve been watching both of you,” Adrian added.
He snagged the bottle from Wren and poured a finger into a nearby glass.
Smart. I wouldn’t have put my lips to the same bottle as a witch either.
They loved using whatever bits and pieces people left behind to craft their spells and curses—saliva, hair, blood, even emotions themselves.
The medium didn’t matter. Only the intent did.
He knocked back the drink in a single swallow, then set the glass down with a hard thunk. “Evander’s patience has officially run out. He doesn’t care about your marital problems. He wants the gem.” His gaze caught mine, dark eyes flashing gold. “So, do your fucking job and get it.”
Wren took the bottle back, capped it, and slid it back onto the shelf behind the bar.
Then she pushed away from the counter. “You have three days. Bring the artifact to the old lumber mill fifteen miles outside of town. If you don’t…
” She smiled, slow and poisonous. “You can say goodbye to your little wife.”
And with that final threat hanging in the air, Wren sauntered out of the Grave Mistake with Adrian lumbering after her.
I sat on my stool for a long while after they left, my wolf anxiously pacing within me. He wanted out. Wanted to tear across town and put eyes on Thorne herself.
I’d agreed to give her time and space. But space and safety weren’t the same thing.
Not when Wren and Adrian had just admitted they were watching her.
Evander couldn’t step foot in town, thank the gods.
Humans were warded from crossing the boundary.
But his lackeys were bad enough. They weren’t as dangerous as him, but dangerous enough.
And seeing as how Wren was a black witch, that said a lot about Evander.
He’d taught me really fast there were worse monsters out there than goblins, ghouls, and ghosts.
If those two thought they were going to watch my mate while I stood back and did nothing, they were out of their goddamn minds.
I needed to scout the Ravenspell estate, build a plan, and pull off the heist. But until then, I would keep an eye on my wife, because no way in hell would I let Evander get his hands on her.
I’d given up everything to keep her out of his grasp.
I’d give up a whole lot more now for a chance to get her back.
I tossed some cash down on the counter, then shoved off the stool and left. The cold night air hit my face, but it did nothing to douse the fire burning a hole through my gut. My hands curled into fists as Wren’s threat echoed in my skull.
You can say goodbye to your little wife.
I didn’t waste another second. I shifted, my body flowing from one form to the next, fast and instinctive.
One heartbeat I was a man, the next I stood on the cracked cobblestone on all four paws.
I shook out my dark coat and rolled my massive shoulders, the human noise in my head narrowing into the razor-sharp, singular focus of a predator.
I broke into a run.
Eternity Falls blurred into streaks of neon and shadow.
I cut off the main roads, taking alleys, tree lines, and side streets simply because they were faster.
The night was loud with supernatural activity.
I caught the metallic tang of vampires lingering near the clinic.
A pack of pixies buzzed near the bakery.
A couple of stray ghouls scuttled toward the sewers as my massive frame thundered past.
I ignored all of it, navigating purely by the magnetic, undeniable pull in my chest. The mating bond. Even fractured and strained, it acted like a compass needle pointing me straight to her.
I covered the two miles to Love Bites in minutes, my heavy paws barely making a sound against the damp earth.
The clock on the bank sign flashed ten forty-two p.m. as I slipped behind a rusted green dumpster in the alley behind her bar.
I slipped into the deep shadows behind the dumpster and peered through the smudged glass of the back window.
There she was.
Thorne maneuvered a massive keg out of the walk-in cooler, her jaw set in a determined line. A smudge of dirt streaked her right cheek, and she’d tied her hair up in a messy knot that looked one tug away from falling apart.
My chest physically ached. A low whine built in the back of my throat, vibrating against my vocal cords, but I clamped my jaws shut and swallowed it down. I couldn’t distract her. I just needed to make sure the immediate perimeter was clear.
I flared my nostrils, drawing in a deep lungful of air. Stale beer. Sweat. The heavy musk from her bouncers working the front door.
I sifted through the layers, searching for the stench of rotting magic or Adrian’s distinct shifter musk. Nothing. Wren and Adrian weren’t here.
Good.
I settled back onto my haunches, letting the cold dampness of the concrete seep into my fur, and watched her work.
I didn’t blink. Through the windows, I tracked every single customer who approached her bar.
I watched a drunk, slurring warlock lean a little too far over the mahogany, his hand reaching for her wrist. My lips peeled back, baring my fangs.
But Thorne just twisted out of his grip, fixed him with a glare that could freeze hell over, and pointed toward the door.
The warlock wisely backed off, muttering apologies.
Midnight bled into one. Last call came and went.
Then one turned into two, and still I stayed in the alley behind Love Bites, watching the back entrance and scenting every inch of the street.
Inside, chairs scraped, glasses clinked, and the low hum of voices slowly faded as the staff cleaned up and counted out the till.
A little after two, the front door finally opened.
Thorne emerged, tossing a heavy black trash bag into the bin. She dusted off her hands, locked the deadbolt behind her, and started the walk home.
I kept my distance as she headed down the sidewalk, moving only once she’d put a block between us. I stayed downwind and out of sight, cutting through alleys, slipping behind parked cars, and using every patch of shadow the town gave me.
Halfway down Main Street, Thorne slowed.
Every muscle in my body locked.
She quickly turned, her gaze sweeping the empty street behind her. Her shoulders stiffened, and for one second, I thought she’d caught me. My claws bit into the ground as I held perfectly still in the mouth of a narrow alley, hidden in shadow.
Thorne’s nostrils flared once.
Then again.
Her wolf had probably sensed something. Not enough to identify me, but enough to make the fine hairs along the back of her neck rise. She stood there a beat longer, keys threaded between her fingers, eyes narrowed at the darkened storefronts and silent street.
Come on, baby. Keep walking.
After another tense second, she muttered something under her breath, shook her head, and turned away.
I waited until she’d put more distance between us before moving again.
She didn’t need a babysitter, and she’d hate me if she knew I was here. But furious was better than dead.
Thorne walked with purpose, her keys still threaded defensively between her knuckles. She looked tired, and very much like a woman who wanted the night to be over.
When she finally reached the condo, she climbed the front steps, unlocked the front door, and disappeared inside. I stopped at the edge of the street, waiting. A minute later, a warm yellow light flicked on in her bedroom window. Her silhouette passed by the closed blinds once, then twice.
Then the light went out, plunging the glass into darkness.
Across the empty street, a dense patch of overgrown bushes bordered the sidewalk, directly facing the building. After circling twice to flatten the dead leaves and damp soil beneath my paws, I finally settled in and rested my heavy muzzle on my front legs, my eyes locked on her darkened window.
Let the witch and the bear try to come near her tonight. If they wanted to use my mate as leverage, they’d have to go through me first.
Three days.
I had three days to figure out how I would break into the Ravenspell estate, steal an ancient artifact, and get back out, all without detection.
But tonight, I wasn’t moving.
I would stay right here in the dirt until the sun came up.