Chapter 6 #2
“It will at that.” The older woman coughed. “And it backs up that he was less than pureblooded. No practitioner could accrue that much bad karma and keep their powers, but a demon? Unseelie? That shit’s right up their alley.”
Great. Just what Jena needed on top of all the other things she had going for her. Guess she was snagging one of those stupid mail-in genealogy kits from Ms. Pao at the library to rule out those fun developments. “I’ve always wondered if that last spell mom cast had something to do with him.”
“You’re not the only one, but he’d been gone for years at that point.
Why he’d come back…” Aggie cracked her empty glass on the table.
“And may I just mention, whatever her intent might’ve been, we’ll never know because she was too damned stubborn to ask for help—mine included.
Make no mistake, if she’d had the coven behind her, that spell wouldn’t have rebounded, and the fire never would’ve happened. ”
Aggie paused, pursing her lips. “No, whatever went on that night, she took to the grave. All I can tell you is that she’d drawn a containment circle, the property was warded to the gills, and half of it was blown to shit.
Whether she was summoning something or trying to send it back…
” The older woman shrugged. “I couldn’t say, and I’ve no idea why you were wandering out by the road instead of in bed where you should’ve been, but I thank God every day that you were. ”
She slapped a hand against the table and Jena jumped. “Now, since you got me drunk enough to spill shit I shouldn’t, you can help me into bed before I slip and break a damned hip.”
A containment circle? Jena had never heard that part of the story. She sat blinking for a breath before closing her laptop and getting up. An uncomfortable weight had developed in her stomach, and it didn’t have anything to do with the whiskey.
Because if there was a circle, no matter which direction whatever it was had been going in, there was a very real possibility that what had killed her mother was still here.
Chase slowly chewed his meat, eyes focused on his plate.
Around him, the top echelon of the pack sat around the manor’s long, glass and brass dining room table for his mother’s mandatory Sunday dinner.
Her insistence that he take off his ball cap for the damned meals always guaranteed they were uncomfortable, but tonight’s was particularly painful.
That he attributed entirely to Crystal sitting beside him, and the shit-eating grin on her face. She reached over to put her hand on his leg again, and he batted it away with a growl.
Christ, he didn’t want to be here.
He shoved a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and grabbed his water to help choke them down with a quick glance through his messy locks at the sparkly, rhinestone clock on the mantle across the room. Damn it. Not even fifteen minutes had passed.
“Thank you so much again for inviting me to dinner, Ms. Montgomery,” Crystal gushed, breaking into the too loud clink of golden utensils against china.
His mother waved a hand, the same damned smile on her face. “Of course! And please, call me Mom. We’re practically family now, and I’ve been asking Chase to invite you to Sunday dinner for months.” She beamed. “I’m so glad he finally came to his senses before you got away.”
Chase coughed, a surge of bile rising in his throat. Crystal patted his back as he reached for his water again, and fur sprouted on his nape. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Chase!” His mother gasped, the rest of the table going still.
Crystal laughed like he was kidding. “Must’ve been a tough day at the office,” she joked. A couple of people forced chuckles as he seethed, the room prickling with tension.
“So…I guess congratulations are in order?” his youngest brother, Luke, asked.
Patrick snorted. “More like condolences, but they should be directed at Crystal.”
She failed to hide a smile behind her napkin. “You’re so funny,” she tittered.
Chase frowned around his bite. Patrick wasn’t funny and never had been.
Their father cleared his throat and forks stilled. “Congratulations are yet to be determined, but I’m confident Chase will live up to expectations,” he intoned from the head of the table. “Or not.”
Chase clenched his jaw, not about to take the bait.
“Crystal is going to make a beautiful bride,” his mother said into the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“We’ve spent all day planning, and we’ve decided to have the wedding here.
The ceremony can be out on the back lawn, and the foyer is perfect for pictures.
Just imagine the banister swathed in silk and chrysanthemums, all done in shades of russet and peach—”
“And cream roses. I adore cream roses,” Crystal added, clapping her hands. “It’s going to be more expensive, but when I called the florist in Galleon Falls, they had a much better selection than the one here in town.”
“You know money’s no object, dear.” His mother simpered. “You only get married once.”
Chase pinched across his temples, a migraine brewing.
Crystal beamed at her, then turned to his sister. “We’re going dress shopping Thursday. You have to come. I want your opinion on the bridesmaids’ gowns. I’m thinking twelve, same color, different styles—”
“Twelve? Chase doesn’t have that many friends,” Sue snarked, then glanced at him like she regretted the comment.
“I’ve already taken care of that,” their mother said breezily. “Patrick’s offered to be best man, and then Luke and some of the other prominent pack members can make up the rest.”
“Isn’t it kind of early for all that? I mean, Chase hasn’t even gotten her a ring…” Luke glanced at him. “Have you?”
“No,” Chase spat. And he wasn’t planning on it.
“But he will,” his father said, his voice laden with finality.
“And it’s never too soon to look for a dress…or to plan nursery decor.” His mom smirked around her glass of rosé.
Chase bit back another growl. This was Hell. He was officially in Hell.
Crystal flipped a long blonde lock over her shoulder and eyed him up and down. “Guess you better start ring shopping, then,” she said singsong, walking her fingers up his arm. “I left my size at Fynbender’s and ordered in some options. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
Of course she had. Chase’s water goblet threatened to crack in his grip. He was way too close to losing his shit. Christ, the entire fucking town must know about—
Jena.
He felt the blood drain from his face, and he put out his hand to steady himself. Fuck. If she thought he’d lied to get in her pants and was getting married after he’d told her Crystal wasn’t his girlfriend—
“Sit. Down,” his father’s voice cracked through the room.
Chase’s gaze snapped to the head of the table. Shit. He hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up. He ducked his head, messy waves falling across his face. “I-I’m not…feeling well.”
His father’s expression didn’t change, about as sympathetic as a reptile.
“Well, it certainly isn’t the meal, you’ve hardly touched your plate.” His mother huffed.
A hand caged Chase’s shoulder with an iron grip. “I’ll make sure he gets home all right,” Malcom said from behind him, his raspy drawl raising Chase’s hackles.
His father’s eyes flicked to his beta’s. Something passed between the two, and his father grunted. “Feel better,” he murmured, cutting into the slab of bloody meat on his plate.
That wasn’t happening any time soon. Chase pulled his cap out of his back pocket and snugged it on as Malcom goose-stepped him from the room and down the hall.
“I can make it home by myself,” Chase said as they came into the foyer.
“Oh, I know,” the slim man said, his grip unflinching. “I’m more concerned about you running off to see that whore witch you felt the need to manhandle through the middle of town today. You spent an awful long time in that shop of hers.”
Chase tensed, and Malcom chuckled. “There is just something about that family draws you Montgomerys like flies to shit. The way your daddy used to drool over her mama was…unhealthy, especially for her. I’d suggest you keep your distance before her daughter ends up the same way.”
“The hell are you talking about?” Chase turned to look at him.
The man grinned, and it wasn’t friendly. “Now that would be telling, but I know you’re smarter than you let on. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He slapped Chase’s shoulder and sauntered back the way they’d just come.
“I’ve got a contract to do work at her shop,” Chase called after him. “I can’t keep my distance.”
Malcom stopped. “Then I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself and expedite the job. Put a leash on that wolf of yours while you do. I’ll be watching.”
He disappeared down the hall, and Chase shook himself like he was in wolf form before heading out to his truck. He got in and ran a hand over his scruffy jaw, staring at the house. Fuck. If Malcom knew about Jena…if he had any idea what she was to him…
He’d kill her.
Chase popped the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway, kicking himself for letting his temper get the best of him and carrying Jena inside the way he had.
After what Malcom said, Chase couldn’t go there now, as much as his wolf was keening to, but maybe he could get her number—no.
She’d hang up on him and never speak to him again.
He had to explain in person. Luckily, the contract she’d signed stipulated work to begin tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp.
He prayed that would be soon enough.