Claiming His Witch (7 page)

“Is everything okay?” She paced the room, eating up the space with her long stride. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Long, black hair, golden skin, ripe, full body. And her walk, my god. Tits jiggling under her sweatshirt, hips swinging in those tight jeans—she gave me a show with every step. The way she moved was intoxicating.
 

“No, we’re fine. How’s Sarah? Did they find anything?” She paused and looked out the window, her face growing dark. “Don’t listen to Scarlett. She’s cranky and being a brat. We’re okay, but some things have come up so we’re probably going to hang here for a bit.”

I raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word probably as she turned my way. She raised one right back and nodded, still talking on the phone.
 

“So Sarah’s okay? Yeah, no. Don’t wake her if she’s sleeping. I’m fine; Scar’s fine. There’s no need to worry about us. We’re safe here.”

Her second eyebrow rose to match the first, as if looking for my agreement. I nodded, not sure what she would be worried about, but knowing, whatever it was, I’d take care of it. My mate would be safe with me no matter what.
 

The instinct to protect what was mine was a strong one, and something I wasn’t completely prepared for. I’d seen it with Rebel and Gates, but this was different. It felt stronger than what I expected. Protecting this woman had instantly become the only thing in the world that held any importance to me, and that feeling scared the shit out of me.
 

I’d failed once when someone had been put in my care. I’d die if I failed again.

“I know.” My mate sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed, still holding the phone to her ear. “Just get some sleep. We’ll be home when we can. We can start again in the morning. Yeah, love you too.”
 

My lips rose, baring my teeth in an almost unconscious show of irritation. I hated that she was telling someone else she loved them when I couldn’t even reach out to hold her hand without second-guessing myself. But when I saw the way she was clutching my phone to her chest with her head bowed, I had to brush off my petty selfishness. This girl was in pain about something.
 

“Is everything okay?”

Her head whipped up at my voice, as if she’d forgotten I was in the room. “Yeah, it’s just…”
 

I waited as she seemed to fight back some kind of strong emotion, looking both lost and angry. Her expressions made me want to comfort her and fight for her, though I had no idea which was needed. The inability to jump in and help her fix whatever was bothering her drove me mad. Just one more thing I couldn’t get right, it seemed.

As she sat and stared at nothing, a warm draft blew through the cabin. Humidity. It was becoming extremely humid in the little cabin, making the hairs on my arms stand up as the window fogged over.
 

“Uh, are you doing that?” I nodded my head in the direction of the steamy windowpane when she looked up. She stared at me for a moment, as if unsure who I was or what I was talking about, but then she followed my gaze. Her mouth turned down into a frown when she saw the now opaque glass.

“Sorry.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “It’s been a really weird night.”

“Yeah.” I leaned over my thighs and ran a hand over my face. “I can’t imagine I’m helping much in the weird department.”

She smiled, tilting her head to the side a little. “You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

My eyes met hers, a smile growing on my face. “Yeah?”

She stood and strolled over, not stopping until she was standing between my thighs, her breasts at my eye level.
 

“Totally. And I’m a witch…interesting things happen to me all the time.”

I wrapped my arms around her, loving how perfect she felt in my hold. As if made for me. As if her body pressed against mine was exactly where she should be. And deep down, I truly believed it was.

“So you really are a…witch.” I hadn’t meant to stumble over the last word, but it was hard to imagine true witches with powers and shit just running around the dunes of Lake Michigan. I wanted to kick myself for being so-not-smooth as her smile fell.
 

“Yes,” she deadpanned. “And you’re really a man who can morph into an overgrown dog.”

“Wolf.”

She shrugged. “Same difference.”

I stood, towering over her, releasing a low growl as I caged her in with my body. “No. Not the same difference. A dog is a pet. A wolf is owned by no one.”
 

I walked her backward until I had her pressed against the wall, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to feel more of her warmth against me. “A wolf values family, fights on behalf of his pack, lives by a hierarchy based on trust and respect.” I paused, making sure I had her full attention before dropping my head to whisper in her ear. “And wolves mate for life.”

She stood her ground, those lips turning up a bit as she peered up at me. “Mates for life, huh? Too bad I’m not able to get all furry with you.”

“You don’t need to.” I reached for her hand, wrapping my fingers around hers and pulling our joined hands between us. I set the back of her hand against my chest, right over my racing heart, and massaged the side with my thumb. I held on to her lightly, just enough to ease the ache I felt around her, not pushing for anything more than simple contact. “We don’t have to mate with one of our own. Shifters and humans end up together all the time.”

She licked her lips, her eyes soft and wide. “Really? But what about witches and shifters? Because I’m not quite human.”

I pressed myself against her, shivering when her body met the length of mine. “Neither am I. That doesn’t mean we can’t be…this.”

She sighed, her free hand moving up my arm and around my neck. “This?”

“Yeah, this. Not love, not marriage, not anything demanding.” I shrugged. “Just this, mates and strings.”
 

She gave me a bit of an irritated look. “Threads, not strings.”

“Threads.” I leaned down to place a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “Sorry.”

Her smile spread like a sunrise—slow and bright—filling me with a sense of renewal, rebirth, and completion. This was my mate. My one. Rebel had waited two centuries to find Charlotte; Gates had waited four. I’d been a shifter for only ten years and had already been blessed with her presence. I was so fucking lucky.

“We can label it later.” I kissed her nose again then leaned down to catch the corner of her mouth. A tiny kiss, barely a tease, but enough to set my world on fire. “For now, it’s just this. A wolf and his witch.”

“I like that.” Her whispered response had me straining to keep my mouth off hers. Damn, I wanted her. Wanted every single piece of her. Wanted to never leave her side, to see every expression she could make, know every memory she had. She was mine…and I wanted to be hers as well.

When she yawned, I shook myself out of my mate-haze. It was late, and the poor girl had to be tired. I still had no idea what had sent her running through the woods, though I was glad for whatever it was. Good or bad, it had led her to me. I would forever be grateful.

Knowing we could do more talking if I made her a comfortable place to rest, I quickly grabbed the quilt off the bed and tossed it on the floor, adding a few pillows as well. And then I shrugged a single shoulder at her inquisitive look.

“I don’t have a couch, and sitting on the bed seems presumptuous.”

She grinned and lowered herself to the makeshift pallet, curling her legs underneath her. I followed her lead, edging close so I could bask in her scent and warmth as we sat on a sea of fabric.

“So.” She leaned back, bracing her arms against the floor. “I guess we’re both a little off the norm.”
 

“Yep. Sure seems that way.”

“But your off is different than my off.” She huffed and shook her head. “I think we’re screwed.”

“Jesus, I hope so.” I grinned as she cocked her head and gave me a look. It was a look I could remember receiving a lot in the past. The one that said “smartass” without actually saying the word.

She glanced around the room again, looking thoughtful. “You’re a wolf shifter—you protect your breed, so you’re kind of like a cop, and you’re staying here but don’t live here. I guess the next big thing that I don’t know is your name. Unless Pup is a popular first name among the shifter set.”

I grunted and glanced away, suddenly nervous. “It’s Adam.”

As I knew she would, she asked the one question I had no clue how to answer. “Adam what? What’s your last name?”

I took a deep breath and stared at the floor. “I don’t remember my full name.”
 

The weight of the silence following that admission was worse than any I’d lived through before. But when she did speak, when she asked me the question I expected, her voice wasn’t doubtful or pitying. It was calm, clear, and left me with no doubt that she truly wanted to know the answer.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember your full name?”
 

I brought my gaze to meet hers, drowning in her almond-shaped eyes. “I was attacked by a shifter nomad, which was the reason I was turned. When I came back to my humanity after receiving my wolf spirit, my memories were foggy.”
 

Her eyebrows drew together. “Is that normal? I mean, do all of you forget who you were?”

“No. Many of the shifters are born this way, born into a pack of their own. Even the ones who are turned like me normally remember their human memories. But my turning was pretty ugly. The memories disappeared.”

“I can’t imagine not remembering my aunt or my sisters.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It would break my heart.”

I linked my pinkie with hers, offering a quiet, subtle support. “I remember my mom. I remember being a gangly, awkward kid who fell down a lot. I remember how poor we were and meeting the man who would eventually introduce me to this life. I have memories, just not ones where someone calls me by my full name. Beast knows it but doesn’t tell me because he thinks there’s a reason for the block. So I’m Adam. But my Breed brothers call me Pup because I’m not a true member yet. I’m a prospect, working my way up to earn a patch and a road name.”

She nodded, silent. I hated that my crappy memory had made her look even the tiniest bit unhappy. There was no need to be; I’d gotten over the holes in my memory years ago. They didn’t bother me anymore, and I had no desire to search out information to questions that didn’t need answers.

Wanting her attention back, I nudged her knee with my own. “Tell me about yourself.”

She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’m one of the Weaver sisters. Middle one, to—”

“No.”

She froze, staring at me in shock.
 

“Not your sisters. You. I want to know about you.”

She seemed confused, as if I’d just demanded something she didn’t know how to supply. I didn’t want her to misunderstand me, so I grasped her hand and leaned closer.

“What’s your name, pretty girl? Tell me about you. Just you.”

She continued to stare at me for a few seconds, as if needing time to formulate an answer. But then she took a deep breath and smiled.

“My name is Azurine Weaver, and I’m a witch. My coven owns the old lighthouse up by Lake Parity.”

I grinned, completely focused on my mate as she gave me bits and pieces of herself. “And what do you like to do in your spare time?”

She bit her lip, her eyes dancing around the room as she appeared to really give her answer some thought.
 

“I like to swim, of course. And I like to dance to cheesy pop music, but my sisters make fun of me for it so I tend to only do that when I know I can be alone. I hate to garden, but we have to dig in the dirt a lot because of all the plants we need for spells and tinctures. My coven thinks I’m crazy, but I can’t stand the feeling of my hands being dirty. I prefer the winter to the summer, am a night owl and not a morning person, and have a huge coffee addiction that I refuse to relinquish. And I have a small obsession with fast cars and big motors.”
 

I chuckled.
 

“What?” Her smile grew as she cocked her head.

“You’re a little gearhead. What do you drive?”

She bit her lip, looking more adorable than I could have ever imagined. “I think I’ll keep that one to myself. Make you work for it later.”

I raised my eyebrows at her, making her laugh. The sound was beautiful and perfect, something I wanted to hear from her over and over and over again. Wanted to make it bigger and bolder, watch her give herself over to her happiness. I was turning into such a sap for this girl, not that I minded.

“What about you?” She inched closer, her eyes bright. “Tell me about you.”

I straightened my back and held out my hand, taking hers in mine as if I were going to shake it.
 

“My name is Pup of the Feral Breed.” I kissed the back of her hand, letting my lips brush gently across her soft skin. “I’m a wolf shifter who likes long walks on the beach, strawberries with my champagne, and a good scratch behind the ears now and again.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. That was it—what I’d been waiting for. A laugh so strong, she didn’t try to hold back. I loved it; loved the freedom with which she reacted to me in that moment. That was my Azurine, my mate, being her true self. And it was hotter than all the sultry looks and teasing glances could have ever been.

As her laughter slowed and she dropped her chin, her face turned a bit more serious. She licked her lips, her voice a rough whisper when she said, “The Fates picked you as my soul mate, tied a red thread between the two of us when we were still dancing in the Summerlands.”

I rolled to my knees and crawled forward, each movement slow and precise. I didn’t want to scare her but I had to be closer. I needed her near me, against me.
 

“The Fates picked you as my mate, my one need, the woman I will love and desire for the rest of my very long life.”

Our eyes locked, the moment heavy. A breeze blew through the cabin, bringing a feeling of brightness with it. Like the wind right before the rain begins to fall, cool and soft with a tease of water in the air. I knew it was Azurine doing it. I didn’t know how or what it meant, but I knew she was the cause behind the scent of rain permeating the cabin.