by Ava Williams
She shook out of it. This was no time for this. She needed to support her sister, and suck it up. Suck it up, buttercup. Her grandma loved to say that. She was also a raging alcoholic, but that was beyond the point.
Molly pulled a right into the prehistoric beast section, which sounded more impressive than it was. They didn’t have the budget for more than half of a rib of an Aarok, a few old magic-infused seashells, and an Egyptian mummy who had unsuccessfully tried to cast an immortality spell on themselves and managed to only turn themselves to stone. The section attracted few guests—magical mollusks, it turned out, possessed minimal crowd appeal.
“Anyway,” Heather chirped, shifting topics. “How’s the museum?”
Molly leaned her forehead against a cool glass display case, staring at the ancient cursed spear inside as she gently kicked at the base of the exhibit. “Oh, you know. Intense.”
“Yeah?”
She bonked her head against the glass. Thunk.
Time to be positive with her sister and stow her shitty attitude. Heather was out of work and trying to find a place to stay. She had enough on her plate without having Molly’s problems to deal with, and what kind of big sister would Molly be to add stress?
“Yeah, I’m working on a weird silver dagger. It’s broken, so I don’t know what the rest of the rune says, but I’ve been working all day trying to guess what it might be and I think I’m getting close.”
“Sounds . . . interesting,” Heather said. She wasn’t interested, Molly could tell, but still, she was making an effort.
Molly was happy to hear from her, she really was, but at the same time, it was inconvenient timing. After all, she had so much work to get back to, and how was she ever going to find out what the dagger did without spending another thirty hours poking it and trying to guess before it got mounted somewhere behind some glass? This was important work, lifesaving work. She snorted with amusement at her own joke.
Molly laughed. “I know, it’s not for everyone. What else is new with you?”
Heather gained a sneaky, mischievous sound to her voice. “I’ve been talking to Zoey and Gwen about something we found.”
“Oh?” She butted her head against the glass again. When Heather got together with their other two sisters, some shit almost always went down.
“A love spell. A fated mate one.”
Molly faltered and held back the impulse to laugh. A love spell? “We’ve talked about these. They don’t work.”
“No! No, Gwen found it and she thinks it really could work if we do it together!”
Molly opened her mouth to protest. “Heather, those things are usually snake oil. They barely ever work. Besides”—she cleared her throat—“the real ones take a lot of power.”
“We can do it together!”
“Maybe,” Molly said. “But I probably can’t hold up my part.” How did that still suck that much to say after all these years?
Ding. Her phone vibrated against her head. “I sent you the information. One spell. We need your help. Can you do it this evening? Puh-leeeeease?”
Ah. There it was. Heather’s call wasn’t just for idle chitchat after all.
Molly stared at the exhibit in front of her. Option A: continue being bored as hell and stuck in a dead-end job. Option B: try a ridiculous love spell that was no doubt just a gimmick. But maybe it was like the lottery, how people lived on with the hope that maybe they might win it all the next day.
She lowered the phone away from her face, covering the microphone with her fingers. “What do you think?” she whispered to the stone corpse. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t respond. It remained silent, face frozen in an eternal scream. “Nothing? Jeez, thanks a lot.”
She brought the phone back up to her ear just in time to hear Heather still trying to talk her into it. “It’ll be like old times. And think about it—we’re all single at the same time! When else are we going to try it?”
“It’s a scam,” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve worked on hundreds of them and every one has been fake. If there’s a real one out there, it’s a one in a billion. Fated mates aren’t a type of magic to mess with.”
“I might have . . . already told Gwen and Zoey that you would do it.” Heather cleared her throat as her confession hung awkwardly between them. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be into it! They’re all excited about it now, too!”
Molly rubbed the bridge of her nose. Naturally, Heather committed for her without consulting the one of them that actually knew what they were talking about. The three of them might all have more horsepower, but when it came to artifacts and spells, that was Molly’s territory. She wasn’t the salutatorian in their college with a degree in the Magical Arts for nothing, dammit.
It figured that Heather had already talked Zoey into it—if she could get their hard-ass, monster-hunting mercenary sister to say yes to some ridiculous love spell, Molly didn’t stand a chance.
Fine. Fine, fine, fine.
She wouldn’t be the lame one here. If all her sisters wanted her help, she’d suck it up and do it—just so they wouldn’t keep bothering her about it. It had been around a year since Heather cooked up the idea of casting a love spell, and Molly had held out so far. But fine—if it took actually hiking out and doing the spell to prove it was a scam, she’d do it. Somehow, she’d find a way to fit it into her incredibly busy schedule, right between screwing with the dagger, working out alone at the gym, and hanging out by herself.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. I . . .”—she checked her phone—“I gotta put some stuff away and then I’ll find a spot to do this.”
After she hung up the phone, Molly put more thought to this love spell idea. If she wasn’t able to generate enough power, the spell would fail. If that happened, Heather might ask her to try it again, since they couldn’t say for sure if the spell was bogus.
Molly had nowhere near the magical firepower her sisters had. She couldn’t pull off a spell like that if it turned out to be real, and she didn’t know if she was up for that kind of humiliation. This kind of spell needed a racecar, and she was a clunker. She could try her heart out, but it just wasn’t going to happen.
She tossed it around in her mind, trying to come up with a way that she could get her hands on that kind of power. She could probably use an artifact, but that’s how people screwed themselves over. These things were old and ancient. Who knows how reliable they were? They might work, and she might get vaporized. And what kind of stupid eulogy would be given for that? Molly was a sweet girl, but unfortunately, she vaporized herself trying to find love. Even an immortal could be killed if an artifact turned on them. She wanted to die with a little more dignity than that.
As she made her way back to her office to straighten up for the night, she had an idea. Now that she thought about it, there was a grove in the forest nearby with an ambient magical current—maybe just enough to boost her up to her sisters’ level. Witches used to use that grove all the time during Prohibition. No one knew for sure where the magical current in the grove came from, but it made good witches great, and great witches amazing.
And, it’d make her decent.
There was just one small, teeny-weeny problem.
The grove was owned by the wolf pack now.
Immediately, the idea was off the table. What kind of stupid-ass idea was that? Going into wolf territory as an outsider just to prove love spells didn’t exist? The wolves were fiercely territorial, and people who trespassed . . . well, it was just a bad idea. She studied wolf packs in college, and they were nothing short of fascinating. Between the compounds and the armed guards, those isolated communities revered their alphas as like god-kings. The alpha’s word was always law.
And this wasn’t just any wolf pack. Titus Carston, weapons development mogul, was pack alpha. He was loaded, and that meant that his compound was guarded to the teeth. A fly couldn’t get within a hundred feet of the compound walls without getting gunned down or detained.
But t
he forest? Why would he guard a forest?
Still, the idea was growing on her. She needed a little excitement. Surely the forest wasn’t barricaded off. And Carston might be a sociopath who made weapons of war, but he wouldn’t kill her if he caught her.
And now she had a chance to prove that she wasn’t just as dead and dusty as the relics she spent her days with. It wasn’t about finding love, though she wasn’t opposed to it. But the part about living a little, feeling the blood rush through her veins instead of always playing it safe . . .
The more she thought about it, the more the excitement and danger appealed to her. She could use some adrenaline. She fought it for as long as she could. It’d be dumb for any of her sisters to go there, and they were a thousand times more equipped than she was to protect herself magically if things went bad. On the other hand, the wolves had an entire forest surrounding their compound, and she’d only have to go a mile or so in. Would they really notice? Just one girl, sneaking in and sneaking out?
Besides, this was still America. They couldn’t kill her, right? If they caught her, maybe they’d chew her out and get her arrested. Maybe that was exciting. Maybe the idea of risking a little something inspired her right now.
Maybe she was about to go get her ass handed to her.
But it was worth the shot. This really wasn’t about the spell anymore—it was about her, about escaping the dust and the boredom and that damn broken blade and living a little. If she was right and the whole thing was a load of baloney like every other fated mate reveal spell, she’d get to be right.
And if she was wrong and she met her fated mate . . . win-win.
But really, what were the odds of that?
3
Titus Carston loved it when people trespassed.
When he was a cub, it pissed him off. This was his territory, dammit, and people thought they just got to wander around on it whenever they wanted.
“Oh, it’s just land.”
He hated that argument. Yeah, but it was pack land, no different than trespassing into someone’s backyard. The only difference was that his backyard was much larger.
Back before he became the pack alpha, life had been a big game, full of parties, beautiful women, and fast cars. But he had to grow up. He put his own life aside to shoulder the responsibilities of the pack, and that meant spending less time on himself and a hell of a lot of time in and out of board meetings.
That day, it was just a long line of meetings, and he was just finishing up with the last one of the night, the moon already stretching high into the sky.
He walked the representatives of one of their larger suppliers out of his office as he smiled and exchanged good wishes. He laughed at one of the representatives’ jokes, wishing them a great day as they wandered out of the building. The moment the door shut, his smile faded. He understood the point of glad-handing a bunch of slim-suit jackholes, but it didn’t make it less annoying.
Unsurprisingly, running a multi-billion-dollar arms company involved a ton of political shit. He had to manage, to lead, motivate, negotiate with suppliers, make decisions on distribution channels, blah blah blah. He filled the majority of his time with wearing a suit and dealing with corporate matters, talking with research and development, or marketing, or any number of other divisions.
So, when some idiot broke in, it gave him a lovely excuse to step away from work and get out into nature. Sure, he could send a security detail to go take care of it, but where was the fun in that? He’d been cooped up running the businesses all day. He was a wolf, for God’s sake. He fulfilled his duty to the pack by serving as alpha, but there was nothing that would ever replace the feeling of soft, black soil between his paws and the wind against his fur.
So, as strange as it sounded, when he got the notice that an intruder had been detected in the forest by some of the cameras right near nightfall, he’d been delighted. When his secretary patched it through, he’d practically lunged to his feet. Finally, some real action!
He barged through the door like a kid on Christmas. He glanced over at his secretary, a younger female wolf named Samantha with an easy smile and a knack for telling solicitors to fuck off. Like most of the wolves in the pack, she straightened in her chair in respect when he emerged from his office.
“Hold my calls,” he told her with a grin.
“Yes, sir!” she chirped back, swiveling to the computer at her desk. “Would you like me to send a security team?”
He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto one of the couches. “No need. I’ve got it handled.”
She locked eyes with him and for a second, there was a real desire in her eyes. He figured one thing out about her a long time ago: She lusted for power, and Titus had all of it.
He had ignored her looks for months now. Not his type. Too conventional. When he found his queen, she would be a force to reckoned with. A bold, wild spirit who saw him, not his power or position.
Samantha caught herself staring and turned away to look back at the screen. “Of course.”
Someday, people would learn that the pack monitored every inch of their territory. Someday, but not today.
It wasn’t just pack territory they protected. It was the development labs where the weapons of tomorrow were developed today. Plenty of his competitors would love to stumble in there accidentally.
Other packs—less successful packs—constantly tried to infiltrate his operation. They would all love to learn the secret to their success. So, which would this intruder be? Some drunken idiot? A spy for a rival? It was like Wheel of Fortune, except for idiots. Wheel of Idiots.
By the time he made it outside, Seth was waiting for him.
As Titus’s beta, he was Titus’s constant shadow, ready to take over for him if something happened. Seth started off as an obligation, just the son of the original beta. Like the alpha position, it passed through the most powerful bloodlines. But, with time, Seth had come around to being a genuine ally—even if he still was entirely too into the high life still.
He’d gotten a lot better. He’d matured. He’d really grown into his father’s shoes, becoming an adept second-in-command and a solid potential to replace Titus if it became necessary. He still didn’t look the part of an executive, though—the messy blond hair and lopsided smile made him seem more like Tom Sawyer than anything.
But, as too many people had learned the hard way, his easygoing personality hid a formidable set of claws.
He flicked a teasing salute as Titus emerged from the building. “Sir.”
The news had traveled fast. Titus returned the salute with an easy gesture. “At ease.”
“So, what are we dealing with?” Seth asked as his hands moved to loosen his necktie.
“Another intruder?” a third voice broke in.
Eli. Seth and Titus’s smiles melted away as they turned around to see the unwelcome interloper.
Eli was smart—extremely smart, but the brains came with a shitty attitude and prickly, unpleasant personality. Titus valued Eli’s intelligence, and accepted the crappy character as the cost of doing business with him.
A sentient awkward silence, as Seth once said, and Titus privately agreed, even though it didn’t behoove the pack alpha to engage in gossip about other wolves.
Titus chose his words carefully as Eli eyed him expectantly. “Yup. Trespasser.”
Trying to make small talk with Eli was dicey. Eli always looked like he had something up his sleeve. Everyone knew that he wasn’t happy with how Titus had been running things, but he was chickenshit to ever say anything. Their rivalry had started when the previous alpha—Titus’s father—died, and the pack voted between the two leading families to see who would be the next one.
Eli lost.
By a landslide.
Since then, their relationship was held together by a thin ligament of professionalism and desire for the pack to succeed. At least Eli had never gone so far as to challenge Titus head-on. When that day came—if it ever came�
�Titus would deal with it. But for now, he handled the generally sour attitudes—not that he’d let Eli too close to him. As long as Eli stayed in his lab and did the work to push the business side forward, he could stay.
But Titus knew—the moment Eli started patting him on the back, it was because he was looking for a place to stick a dagger.
For a second, Titus and Eli stared at each other and an uncomfortable tension stretched over the scene. They worked well enough in isolation, but it was the same story every time they got close to each other.
“Meant to tell you.” Titus cleared his throat. Time to be the leader. The unifier. “Great work on the GTX-74. You’re really standing out in R&D.”
Eli’s lips thinned into a tight smile. “Happy to do my part. I can’t imagine what you must have on your plate these days. I’m glad I only have to manage one thing.”
What a pissy little shit. Titus’s eyes narrowed and a cord of anger shot through him. Pissy. That was the only way to describe Eli. Just . . . pissy. Never doing anything, but just being a general pain in the ass, and Titus would be lying if sometimes he didn’t wish Eli would outright challenge him. But that day would never come. That being said, if it ever did . . . he was more than ready to end this bullshit tension.
Seth cleared his throat and stepped between them. “How about that intruder, huh?”
Titus didn’t break eye contact with Eli. Do something. Either do something finally, or shut the hell up. Maybe Titus would even respect him more if Eli took a swing at him. Seth and Titus had once gone to brawl after a party as cubs and they were fine.
Eli coughed and looked away. “I’m very proud of my team. We’re making great strides.”
So today was not the day after all.
Titus turned his attention back to Seth, his temper cooling. Eli was valuable for the pack, and as tempting as it was, Titus couldn’t let personal conflict with Eli harm the pack’s best interest. That was the whole point of all of this: keeping everyone safe and happy. Keeping their community thriving, and if that meant putting up with Eli, he’d make that sacrifice. It was better for everyone to keep a lid on their conflict and make sure that Eli was compensated—handsomely—for his work.
