Chapter 11
Selene
I’ve done my best to give Jared space after the incident at Threads of Magic.
While everything in me longs to be close to my mate, I’m painfully aware he doesn’t feel the same.
Heck, he hasn’t even recognised the bond between us yet.
Jared only knows me as the woman who pulled the rug out from under him with all the finesse of a sugar-high toddler yelling ‘surprise’.
The evening air is crisp and cool as we make our way through town, and I’m glad for the leather jacket I threw on over my powder-blue jumper before leaving the house this morning. Flame-hued leaves rustle beneath our feet, a reminder that autumn has finally arrived.
“What are you smiling about?”
Jared’s question makes me jump—for someone claiming to have a lengthy list of questions, he’s been surprisingly quiet so far.
Then again, each time I’ve stolen a glance at him, noticing the way he’s shortening his long stride to keep pace beside me, it’s been obvious he’s absorbing his surroundings—looking for more signs of the supernatural, maybe?
“Just enjoying the crunchy leaves,” I reply.
“There’s something special about this time of year.
The old being cleared away, leaving space for something new.
I know some people think autumn’s all about things dying and that spring is when the joy returns, but not me.
I think this time of year is full of hope, the potential to find something more. ”
“You got all that from a few leaves, huh?”
“What, you think I’m being silly?”
“Not at all.” He chews over his next words carefully. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Why?” I ask as we turn onto my street.
“Because you’re a witch—someone with actual magic—yet you’re still able to find a sense of wonder in the ordinary.
” Our steps slow until we’re left facing each other in the middle of the pavement.
The light press of his large hand against my wrist sends a flutter through me.
Jared steps closer, his hazel eyes studying me intently, and I fight the urge to shift on my feet. “You’re not what I expected.”
I huff out a short laugh. “And what exactly did you expect from a witch? A conical hat and broomstick?”
His self-deprecating smile only makes him more endearing. “Actually, I’m not sure, but whatever I might have come up with, I know you’d have always ended up being something more.”
My breaths come quicker, and the high neckline of my jumper suddenly feels too tight.
Is this—does Jared somehow know I’m his mate?
No, that’s not possible, not while he’s still wearing the amulet.
He can’t mean me specifically. He must have meant witches in general would have been more than he ever imagined—after all, he didn’t know any of this existed until a couple of days ago.
That has to be it. Anything else is no more than wishful thinking on my part.
The streetlight overhead illuminates the light blush staining Jared’s cheeks and, before I can conjure a response, he steps back, releasing his gentle hold on my wrist and clearing his throat.
Of course my stomach decides this is the perfect opportunity to growl obnoxiously loud.
That’s what I get for skipping lunch today.
I duck my head in embarrassment and start walking again. “Come on, my place is right up here.” Jared follows without further comment.
The thatched roof of my cottage and off-kilter gate to my front garden come into view a few minutes later.
A few chips of green paint flake off as I wrestle the rickety thing open.
“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to fix that for ages.
” The last thing I want is for my fated mate to think I don’t take good care of my home, but DIY has never been my strong suit.
Brooks has offered to stop by and fix it for me, but he and Gwyn have their hands more than full between the shop and raising Eve.
I don’t want to take advantage of their generosity.
At least the cobblestone path to my front door is in good condition, and the flowerpots of winter pansies lining it add a pop of colour. The window boxes full of herbs on either side of my front door look neat, even if they could use a fresh coat of paint.
Jared has to duck to get inside the front door, then again as we head between the living room and kitchen.
I glare up at the beams embedded in the ceiling that I once thought gave the place character—now all I can see is a hazard to my mate and a concussion waiting to happen.
Damit, I adore this cottage, but I can’t have Jared accidentally bludgeoning himself every time he comes over.
Wait, every time he comes over? I need to slow down.
Jared doesn’t even know he’s my mate yet.
The only reason he’s here to begin with is to learn more about himself and other supernaturals.
I can’t get ahead of myself—Jared needs time to adjust before I drop another bomb on him.
“Have a seat. I’ll grab us some plates,” I tell him, waving towards the round kitchen table. “You want something to drink? I’ve got juice, water, tea, or coffee.”
“Water would be great, thanks.”
I set plates and cutlery on the table, and Jared pulls our dinner out of the takeaway bags while I fill two glasses with water.
“This place suits you.”
“How so?”
“It just… feels very you. Sorry, that probably sounds strange seeing as we barely know each other.”
“It’s not as odd as you think,” I assure him, taking the seat opposite him.
“Supernaturals can sense magical signatures. Some have a stronger affinity for it than others, but we can always tell when someone is a fellow supe. Unless they’re wearing a dampener like yourself.
It’s possible now you’re aware of the magic, some of your abilities will start slipping through.
You might subconsciously recognise this space is full of my magical signature because I spend a lot of time here. ”
“So, the more time a supe spends in a place, the stronger the buildup of their signature and the easier it is to sense them?” he confirms, leaning forward eagerly.
“Expert trackers will tell you there’s more to it than that, but yeah, pretty much.” I dig my fork into my sweet potato curry, sighing in contentment at the gentle warmth of the spices.
“Damn, that’s a good burger,” Jared says after enjoying a bite of his own meal.
“You can’t go wrong with anything on the Hunter’s Moon menu. The Alpha knew what he was doing when he took over the place a few years ago.”
“The Alpha?”
“Right, sorry. There are a few different kinds of shifters—supes with a human and animal form—and they usually live in packs led by an Alpha. When the previous Alpha died, his son came back to Crystal Lake and took over leadership of the pack and its businesses.”
“It’s a hereditary position?”
I wave my hand in a so-so motion. “Not always. Alpha genes are genetic, so it’s not unusual for the title of Alpha to pass down through a bloodline, but it also comes down to who’s the strongest shifter and most suited to the role—being pack Alpha requires more than just physical strength.
The candidate for succession can be obvious, and it’s often a direct descendant of the previous Alpha, but sometimes a strong, suitable shifter will join a pack or be born into it through a different bloodline. ”
“What happens if there’s more than one suitable candidate?” Jared asks before taking another bite.
“Then there’s a whole process in place with interviews and trials to assess who’s best suited to the position.
I’m not a shifter, so I don’t know all the ins and outs of it—they’re fairly private about the exact details—but that’s the gist of it.
Oh, and a shifter’s designation can be alpha without them being the Alpha. ”
“What about demons and witches? Do they have their own version of an Alpha? Does every type of supernatural? Is that even the right term? Should I say species? Type?”
“Hey, relax, Mr Twenty Questions.”
“Sorry.” His sheepish smile is unfairly cute. “I don’t want to use the wrong terminology and offend someone, that’s all. Before I ran into you, I was actually thinking of heading over to the library to see if I could find something there to help me avoid putting my foot in my mouth.”
I point at him with my fork. “That’s not a bad idea. Giles, the librarian, is great if a little particular. Just be careful with the books, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you some recommendations.”
Jared shifts in his seat, his knee knocking against mine, and I savour the momentary contact. “And you think it’s OK for me to tell him about my situation? That I, you know, thought I was human?”
“Yeah, Giles is cool. He’ll probably have a few questions for you, but he won’t pressure you to answer if you’re not comfortable.
As for the other thing—species, type, and kind, are all fine.
Just please, whatever you do, never call a wolf shifter a werewolf—that’s a surefire way to end up on the wrong end of a set of claws. ”
“Wolf shifters, not werewolves—got it.” He nods seriously, then pops a sweet potato fry into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“Witches have a similar leadership structure to shifters in that there’s always a local Coven Leader.
With demons, it’s a little different, and there’s more emphasis put on whoever is the head of the family.
The family heads then make up a local council with a representative for each type of demon.
If there’s more than one demon family with the same abilities, then the strongest head will take the council seat. ”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It can be. Again, I know the basics, but being a witch, I don’t have all the details—Huxley can help you out with that though.”
“What about other types of supernaturals? At this stage, I still don’t know what’s real and what’s strictly fiction.”