Page 49 of Lycan Witch
I was the one trapped in that godsforsaken prison when you got yourself chained to the floor.Now I’m telling you I won’t allow you to make the same mistake twice. You want your mate back? Go claim her.
Anger surges through me, and I punch the steering wheel. “I can’t!” I yell, spooking the deer who lift their heads, then dart from the meadow. “She’s won’t even see me because—”
Because you let that witch hurt heragain, so fix it,he growls.Fix it so you can reclaim your place as alpha with her by your side. Or are you going to let the council, Monique, and soon Kilch ruin everything?
Growling, I slam the gear shift into drive and peel down the dirt road, heading back into town. My tires squeal as I peel into Aaron’s garage parking lot and slam on the brakes. Rage courses through me, and I welcome the rush of it, the familiarity of the anger making my blood heat and pound through my veins.
Three cars sit in front of the shop, and I stalk past them, ripping the door open as I step inside. Keith’s buzzed blond head snaps up from where he’d been bent over some paperwork, his jaw going slack and his eyes wide.
“Where is he?” I ask, leaning back against the wall.
“Uh… who?” Keith asks, the tremble in his voice betraying the lie.
“The one who wants to be the new alpha. Come on, Keith, you’re smarter than that.” One side of my mouth lifts into a lopsided grin. “Then again, you weren’t smart enough to save Adara from your stupid drummer before he got himself into trouble, were you?”
He licks his lips, his eyes darting to a door off to the side with tinted glass.
“Perfect.” I push off the wall, heading straight for that door, ignoring Keith’s sounds of protest from behind me. Throwing it open, the door crashes into the wall, and the smell of cigarettes hits me like a train. My lips curl up in disgust, my eyes adjusting to the dim light in the office. The blinds over the one window in the back are shut, and the overhead light is off. A small lamp sitting on a desk covered with scattered paperwork gives off a dim yellow haze.
“What the hell?” Aaron says, jumping up from his chair behind the desk.
“Ready for round two?” I hold my arms out to each side. “I’ll get you get the first hit, drummer boy.”
“W-what?” His eyes dart over my shoulder, finding Keith and, I’m sure, the panicked look covering his face.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been bragging about? All the hits you’d get on me in an alpha challenge? How much you’ve been dying to fight me to take over the pack?” I storm into the room with large strides, and Aaron backs up from the desk, stumbling into the blinds covering the window.
“I-I never wanted to fight you, boss,” he stutters.
“Didn’t you?” I narrow my gaze at him, slamming my palms on the desk. “That’s what I’ve been told you’ve been spewing around town with your fucking mouth.”
“N-no, I swear!” He holds up his hands. “Aramin wanted me to challenge you, but I-I told her she was crazy. I didn’t want to sign my own death warrant, y’know? She got pissed and took off. I haven’t seen her in a-a few days or some shit.”
My vision tunnels. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t challenge you. I like actually being alive.”
Aramin. Of course it was Aramin and her fucking bullshit. Images flash in my mind—her sitting on Aaron’s lap every shift she worked, dragging him into the bar on the nights he didn’t even have a set to play, how she always draped herself all over him and his wannabe-alpha-asshole personality. A snarl rips from my mouth, and I throw all the papers off his desk, launching the small lamp at the wall. The bulb on it shatters, and I stalk from the office, stomping back to my truck.
I drive myself to Anera’s shop, my truck parked in one of the Main Street spots. Staring in the window, I realize her shop is open. With Wendell’s death, I assumed she’d have shut down the sandwich place, letting herself mourn in the upstairs apartment. I realize how wrong I was when I see her standing behind the sandwich counter, laughing at something her customer said before waving goodbye. The customer walks out of the shop, and Anera turns around, singing along to the radio as she dances behind the counter, cleaning as she reorganizes her ingredients.
My legs feel like lead as I pull open the door, the small bell jingling overhead and announcing my arrival. Anera looks up, and she smooths a hand over her frizzy brown hair, various curls escaping her bun. I give her a small smile. “Hi, Anera.”
She lets out a rush of air and smiles. “Gideon.” Her eyes fill with tears as she rounds the counter toward me, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by since… the other day. We were all told to give you space.” She pulls back to search my face, her brows furrowing. “What’s happened?”
“I…” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Did you file a complaint with the council over Wendell’s death?”
“Did…” A loud laugh bursts from her. “Gods, no. He was a piece of scum, dear. He deserved it after all he’s done.” She pulls me into the shop, pushing me into a chair at a table and rushing back behind the counter.
I stare after her, confused. “Someone filed a complaint with the council, Anera.”
Setting a plate with a triple decker club sandwich down before me, she slides into the opposite chair. Her lips press into a firm line. “It wasn’t me.”
“But you’d asked me not to kill him before.” I rub a hand over my face, my stomach grumbling at the scent of the sandwich wafting up at me.
“I did,” she nods. “But that was years ago, Gideon.” A darkness shadows her face briefly before she takes a deep breath. “That girl he slept with was just a child, but she was old enough to know what she wanted. I never believed him, though. Always suspected magic, but I couldn’t prove it. I didn’t want you to kill him then, but only because I wanted to get to the witch who gave him such a power.”
“Did you?” I raise a brow at her, but she shakes her head.