Chapter 17
Willow
“What the hell, Willow!” Harlow shouted. “Someone is blackmailing you and you didn’t tell me?”
Jordyn turned over the crumpled-up pieces of paper that I’d stashed away, eyes darting between them and the butcher knife. “We could probably do a reverse location spell, find out who wrote these.”
“Yes,” Harlow insisted. “And that knife might have fingerprints on it. No one touch it. We should call Dougall.”
“Dougall is the most incompetent police officer in the world,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “The fewer people who know about this right now, the better.”
“Does Wyatt know?” Harlow asked, and I gave my sister a look that made her roll her eyes. “Seriously, Willow? You didn’t even tell him?”
“I didn’t want him to worry.”
“Well, too bad, he’s going to be worried,” she snapped. “You need to tell him.”
“Fine,” I relented. “But no one else. Not until we know more.”
“Especially considering this person is probably a werewolf,” Jordyn agreed, scrutinizing the paper. “It’s probably some pack member who wants Wyatt to marry another wolf.”
“Like Aisling,” I grumbled under my breath.
Harlow rubbed her temples. “It’s so archaic.”
“Welcome to werewolf politics,” Jordyn sniped. “It used to be arranged marriages of the great wolf families all across the Eastern Seaboard.” She folded her arms tightly. “Patriarchal nonsense. Witches would never.”
“The witches weren’t too keen on you dating a human, either,” I pointed out. “Need I remind you, my sister and I were almost killed because your jealous ex wanted you to marry a paranormal.”
Jordyn grimaced. “Oh yeah. That.”
“Speaking of exes,” Harlow added, pointing to the knife, “this seems very jilted ex to me. Does Wyatt have any that you’d suspect?”
“I’ve ruled out Jack. He and his husband were out of town last week.”
“And those two are also, like, crazy in love,” Harlow mused. “I can’t see it being him.”
“And there are no other exes in town that I know of,” I said.
“Apart from Aisling,” Jordyn countered.
“Wyatt and Aisling dated?” I asked, surprised.
Jordyn flashed me an awkward smile. “I . . . probably shouldn’t have been the one to tell you that.”
“No, Wyatt didn’t tell me,” I gritted out, folding my arms across my chest.
“It was ages ago, when they were kids,” Jordyn added as if that would help. “They decided they were better as friends, but the whole pack still wants them to be together.”
“So you think Aisling did this?” Harlow asked.
Jordyn lifted the scraps of paper. “One way to find out.”
An urgent knock sounded at the back door, and Harlow and Jordyn squared up as I wandered over to it. Jordyn’s hands flickered with magical light as if she might launch a ball of white-hot magic at whoever was on the other side.
I opened the door to find a bloodied Wyatt leaning on the doorframe, panting as if he’d just sprinted all the way here.
“Oh my god.” I gasped, holding him by the shoulders and inspecting his wounds. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” His eyes searched frantically behind me. “I could feel your panic.”
“You could feel my panic?” I replied.
“See? This is why you need to tell him, Wills,” Harlow snarked, and I shot my sister a look.
“Tell me what?” Wyatt growled, his voice sounding deeper and more predatory than I was used to.
“Why don’t we go do our location spell back at the apothecary?” Jordyn said, grabbing Harlow by the elbow and steering her toward the door. “Wolf boy can protect Willow.”
“Protect her from what?” Wyatt pushed into the space, shutting the door and locking it behind him.
I swore he was an inch taller than he’d been the last time I’d seen him and his shoulders were broader, his eyes wilder.
If ever there was a question that this man was human, now it was very clear that he was something more dangerous.
“Thanks for your help,” I called to Jordyn and Harlow as they hastily left, Harlow locking the front door behind her and mouthing, “Good luck,” to me.
“Let me get you some ice for your lip,” I offered, turning toward the kitchen.
Wyatt caught me by the forearm before I could take a step away. “It will heal,” he rumbled. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“You first,” I countered, reaching up to sweep the hair from his eyes.
“Willow,” he pushed. “Why were you so scared?”
“Okay, look, promise you won’t freak out?”
His eyes darkened, and I swore his muscles rippled beneath his skin as if he were preparing to fight an invisible attacker. “Tell me.”
“Someone has been leaving me threatening notes at the café,” I confessed, and his eyes flared. “They told me to stay away from you, but Jordyn’s doing a location spell and it’s all going to be fine—”
His pupils flickered a reflective gold, and an inhuman snarl escaped his lips. “They threatened you?”
“Hey, hey,” I soothed. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
“They—”
I cupped his cheeks. “Look at me.” I forced him to meet my eyes. “I’m okay. We can handle this.”
“You should’ve told me,” he growled, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against him.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re my mate, Willow,” he said. “I want to protect you. I need to.”
“I need to protect you too,” I countered, touching a finger to his lip. “Tell me what happened to you.”
Instead, his eyes filled with heat at our closeness, and he kissed me fiercely.
“Your lip,” I protested against his mouth.
“It’s fine,” he dismissed. “I need you.”
He shoved me back against the countertop, hand fisting in my hair and yanking until my scalp bit with pain. Heat flooded me at his possessive touch, and I moaned as he grabbed my shirt and shredded it open as if it were crepe paper.
His teeth tested my neck, biting until I cried out.
“Wyatt,” I warned. “Slow down.”
His frenzied hands didn’t slow. It was as if he couldn’t hear me as he tore away my clothes and raked his nails down my bare back. He collided into me, his fist going through the cabinet beside my head, and I screamed as wood splintered across the kitchen.
At the sound of my scream, he pulled away, eyes wide. “No,” he whispered, horrified. “No, no, no.”
His hair had grown long, his canines elongated into sharp points, and his eyes were flickering gold. He yanked on the collar of his shirt, revealing his collarbone, smooth and unmarked by Ramona’s sigil.
“Wyatt—”
“Stay away from me!” he snarled, taking another step back.
I jolted toward the door.
“No! Don’t run.” He groaned as I heard bones snapping, his body contorting as he fought off the shift.
I could only watch in frozen horror.
“If you run . . . I will chase you. Willow—when I leave, get the witches to ward against me. I . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”
And then Wyatt roared.
He launched himself at the front door and broke it under his weight before he ran into the night. Half man . . . half wolf.