Chapter Seven #2
Then, when she handed it off to the sister who is their family’s heir, Leona, her mission was to get the spell book into a secured facility before the Council got their hands on it.
When that news hit, the unlicensed betting shops went into overdrive.
You could bet on practically anything and everything in Witchingdom, from whether she’d get it there to if the guy she was with was really her secret husband.
I wasn’t following all the gossip to make a quick buck though—I wanted the Aetos pack to make the score of a lifetime to prove that the witch’s multigenerational pack bad luck curse had finally expired. Then everything would change, and our Aetos Werewolves’ future would be secured.
“Fine. The Council gets first bid on the spell book,” I say. “It’s settled.” I glance over at my aunt. “Let me get her back in the jail, and I’ll return in time for the feast.”
As soon as word had gotten to Arcadia that the spell book was ours, the whole town had pulled together an impromptu celebratory feast in addition to the lambs on the barbecue spits.
Is it a bit early for that kind of excitement and hope that things will work out?
Probably, but we’ve been lean on victories lately and we need one.
“Do you really think leaving her in the jail will work?” Artemis asks as she puts her tarot cards into the carved wooden box she carries them in, pointedly not looking my way.
My gut does a twisting crab-walk thing. “I’ll stick closer to the jail side of the park during the feast to see if that’s close enough for whatever is going on with her magic.”
She tuts again. “It has nothing to do with her magic, and you know it.”
I swallow my groan. This will be the five millionth time we’ve had this conversation. “Now, Aunt Artemis—”
“Don’t you Aunt Artemis me, Darius Iason Aetos,” she says with a huff. “I’ve known you since before you ran under your first full moon.”
Aunt Artemis has known everyone in the pack from infancy, and she isn’t afraid of pulling rank—even with me, and I’m the alpha.
“You take her back to the cell, and she’ll just pop right back to you.” She smooths her hand over the box’s lid and tucks it under her arm as she stands. “It’s the way.”
I want to argue, but really, what’s the point.
It’s what has happened every time Effie and I are more than ten yards apart.
I don’t know how a witch’s magic works (why would I, werewolves and witches are more than just not friends), but Effie must have done something to make hers go sideways.
I didn’t slip a charm on her, so that just leaves user error—definitely not some mystical fated mates that will break the hex that’s been hanging over the pack for generations.
Effie shifts on my lap, a little more elbow to the ribs than cushy ass to my dick this time.
“Plus, you know, starving the prisoner is bad for business,” Effie says with a grin that screams she knows just how much she’s stirring the pot. “Not that I’ve kidnapped anyone, but it seems logical.”
“Oh, we’d never do that,” Aunt Artemis says. “Do you like strawberry rhubarb pie? I always like to start off with a little slice.”
Effie’s smile is huge and genuine. “Life is too short to eat dessert last.”
“Exactly.” Aunt Artemis walks over to us. “That’s what I keep telling Darius, but he likes to stick to his rules.” She holds out her hand to Effie. “Come on, let’s go fix ourselves a plate, and if we’re lucky, we can get Georgios to save us two extra slices for after.”
“That sounds like my kind of plan,” Effie says as she gets up and links her arm through Aunt Artemis’s. “Double pie for the win.”
She doesn’t look back as she goes down the steps and toward where the buffet is set up a couple of yards away, but I can’t stop watching her hips sway as she goes. I’m on my feet, ready to follow, before I realize what I’m doing, and I can’t even blame my wolf this time.
Nikos blocks me from following them out of the gazebo.
He’s a few inches shorter than I am, but he’s got about fifteen pounds on me—and I know that any fight with him won’t be a fair one (not that I give a shit).
After the last challenge to become alpha came down to the two of us (I kicked his ass), he’s worked his way up the pack hierarchy for the past year until he claimed the number two spot.
Everyone in the pack knows he’s not done climbing.
Well, too fucking bad, because I’m not going anywhere.
Crossing his arms while standing on the edge of my personal space, he makes a pathetic attempt at an intimidation stance. “I think it’s time you told us what’s going on.”
Before I can tell Nikos what he can do with his big thoughts, the dinner bell clangs.
“Food first,” I say. “Then we’ll talk.”
My number two doesn’t like that answer, but he can’t do shit about it, so he dips his chin down in acknowledgment and walks off to where our motorcycles are parked and his cronies are waiting.
Meanwhile, I follow my dick straight over to the table where Aunt Artemis and Effie are sitting. It takes about thirty seconds to realize I’ve made a mistake, because Artemis is scrolling through my baby pictures on her phone and showing the most embarrassing ones to Effie.
“And when he was a toddler, he used to line up all of his toy trucks, and you did not want to mess with his system.” Aunt Artemis shoots me an indulgent smile. “What was it, by size or by color?”