Page 40 of Fractured Mates
Sophie uses her other hand with claws already extended and positions them over the redhead’s chest. “Say something stupid again and see what happens. I ripped a wolf shifter’s heart out yesterday. A witch’s today will be no hardship. I can find a cloaking spell anywhere. You can’t live without your heart.”
Jealous Sophie is really something else. Not that I want to piss her off all the time, but I have to admit, I’m slightly entertained.
The witch presses her palms together and starts to mutter a spell, which thankfully sounds vaguely familiar. Perks of having a few witches as protectors to provide these things before we go out on missions.
When she’s done and opens her hand, the vials are no longer clear, but the light-purple color they should be for the spell.
I pluck them from her palm and tuck both into my front pocket. “Nice doing business with you,” I say as I gladly step away from her.
When Sophie doesn’t follow, I turn around and see her whispering something in the witch’s ear that has the latter’s eyes going wide and face paling.
Sophie then pats her on the shoulder and moves toward me.
I raise a brow at her, wanting an explanation, but all she does is shrug. “Girl stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”
I might not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not more than curious about what the hell just happened and if Sophie’s willing to admit she’s just staked a claim on me.
We leave the bar without any issues and Sophie throws me her keys. “Your turn to drive.”
“Your car, but sure, I’ll continue to drive you around,” I muse, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.
When we’re both in the car, I quickly start it and pull out of the parking lot, heading back south toward the pack. It doesn’t matter that Sophie might have put the fear of the gods in that witch—I’m not sticking around to see what, if anything, she tells her sisters.
Once we’re a mile down the road and I don’t sense anyone following us, I glance over at Sophie. “What did you tell the redhead?”
“I told you, girl stuff.”
There’s no stopping the smile that appears on my face. “Like how I’m yours and she better not even think of me in her dreams again or you’ll kill her?”
The way she stiffens tells me that I’m at least close, which is good enough for me.
“No, that couldn’t be it,” I amend, keeping my voice light. “I’m sure it was something about asking about which shampoo she uses.”
Sophie doesn’t respond, but I’m not done with her yet. Not by a long shot. “We have a couple of hours until we’re near the pack again. Why don’t we trade questions?”
This finally has her turning to face me. “Trade questions? What do you mean?”
“You ask me something about myself, and I’ll ask something about you in return,” I explain, not surprised she’s never done this with anyone else.
She’s quiet for a minute but then sighs. “Fine. I’ll go first. Why did you become a protector?”
I doubt she has any idea how serious this conversation is about to get, but I’m not going to lie to her.
“My fated mate died in a freak car accident,” I say solemnly. “When I didn’t think I had anything else left to live for, I decided to help give others the chance at the life I had lost.”
I steal a glance at her, but she’s turned toward the window and I can’t see her face. The disappointment that floods through me only increases when she doesn’t say anything else.
Maybe she intended for whatever pull she’s having toward me to be temporary and casual. Maybe her wolf has no clue what we are like mine figured out. Her knowing my fated mate is gone would prove there are no obstacles for us to be together. Does that freak her out? If so, should I consider that a good thing? Or a bad one?
No answers come to me, and as the seconds tick by, I know I should ask a question of my own, but I can’t form the words. Not when I don’t know if what I’ve just said has ruined any chance I thought I had with this labyrinth of a woman.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophie
Ishould say something. I should tell him that I understand in some small way. But I can’t. As if locked away, the words won’t leave my mouth, staying there as thoughts to torture me with.
But he’d understand, my wolf says softly. He hasn’t judged you yet, and I doubt he’s going to start now.