by Ava Williams
And in the past evening, she’d had more excitement than she normally had in a year.
Titus.
Freaking.
Carston.
She barely got a lick of sleep that night. She just stared up at the ceiling fan twirling over her head, wondering what in the world had just happened.
There was just one, ridiculous thought that swirled around in her head: What if the spell worked?
According to legend, a fated mates spell didn’t create a connection. It merely revealed it. The spell drew the two people closer together, and tied them together with overwhelming sexual attraction. It was more like a guide than anything. Scientifically speaking, they’d done studies on fated mates and the way that they lusted after each other was genuinely incredible. In theory, magic revealed and ignited very real, very powerful, responses—and that could have explained what she’d felt towards Titus.
But there were a few flaws: Fated mates were real, but the fated mates spell was a bunch of bullshit. Maybe she was just turned on by the fact that she’d been kidnapped by a gorgeous and slightly intimidating billionaire. That certainly could do the trick.
As the night wore on, she started to think that she imagined their explosive connection. This was, after all, Titus Carston. The most eligible bachelor, blah blah blah. He hadn’t been labeled the world’s most eligible bachelor without a bit of panty-dropping magic. Maybe she just fell in lust with him. Lots of women did.
No, she probably would never see him again.
At least, that was the plan.
She held out a small, embarrassing flicker of hope that she’d hear from him soon and she would be pulled back into that world of excitement and danger. She had this ridiculous vision that the next day, there he’d be on her front lawn, asking to see her and talk with her. Or maybe he’d send one of his wolves to come see her and invite her back, or honestly, anything would be great. If he was her fated mate, it would work out. Destiny would put them together, she thought, and finally drifted off to sleep.
The next day, she heard nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Not so much as a peep, and nothing more the next day. Or the next, or the next. The days started to pile up, and as she reached a week with no contact with him, she started to lose hope.
More than that, she felt embarrassed for even imagining it. What, did she really think a billionaire was going to want her when he had the world at his fingertips? Sure, they’d shared a night together in the heat of passion, but she felt childish and stupid for letting herself believe that maybe more might come of it.
She settled back into her old routine back at the museum. Just because she had an exciting night didn’t mean that her life had changed, and that became painfully obvious as she returned to work. It was worse now, worse now that she’d had a taste of excitement and the taste of Titus on her lips. Now that she had finally tasted a little excitement, the museum seemed even less appealing.
On one rainy day filled with research and study, she took a break and went to watch the traffic go by. Slick raindrops slid down the cold glass as she drank in a warm cup of coffee. The cars zipped by, but all she could hear was the gentle pitter-patter of rain against the roof and the distant bustle of traffic.
Was this it?
The museum had always been a little dull, but she liked the work and the stability. She didn’t have a lot of magical firepower, but she was damn good at her job. She thrived on the detective work and the careful, methodical process of identification and preservation. Normally, it took her only a day or two to get to the root of a rune. It came naturally to her, as naturally as reading.
It was part of why she had so much work: Museums all across the nation sought her services, and whenever someone needed help with a particularly difficult magical object, she was usually the first person that people called. Artifacts shipped from all over America to her museum, simply so she could analyze them.
Until that stupid dagger, anyway—its purpose and origin continued to elude her, and the spinning her wheels was not her usual style. The dagger didn’t matter, not really. It was just a half-broken thing from centuries ago, and she could probably just return it with what she knew about it so far and the client would be happy with the work. But when she didn’t hear anything from Titus, she dove back into it to occupy her mind and emotions. Hoping that her competence would make up for the small hurt that Titus left behind.
She still didn’t get anywhere.
The dagger didn’t care that she wanted a small taste of success right then.
And it drove her nuts. There were a hundred things, a thousand things it could be, but until she could find a definitive answer, she couldn’t move past it. Living in that ambiguity, trying to always wonder without the other half, was driving her nuts. If she had the other half, she could get it in twenty seconds. The attempt to escape into her work to distract herself from her tangled emotions failed—magnificently.
A week after her explosive night with Titus Carston, the day started like any other, hunched over the broken dagger, scratching notes on a pad of paper next to her. She spent a few hours bent over it, studying things and throwing spell after spell on it to no avail. It simply wasn’t working, and she felt her blood start to boil the more things that she tried and failed.
Around noon, Carl came sweeping into the room, and just like every day, he sat down on her desk to strike up an awkward conversation, unsubtly brag about his own work and then withdraw in awkward silence as he went about his business.
Carl wasn’t a bad guy—just unlikable, and their relationship grew tense after she realized he was harboring a secret crush on her. She’d ended up having to outright say that there wouldn’t be anything there.
He’d been crushed, and it had ruined work for a while. She’d felt guilty about it, but it was her life, and she wasn’t about to compromise on who she wanted to be with. Now, in the rare scenario when they ran into each other, he was always even more awkward than he used to be. He seemed deadset on restoring their friendship, and while his heart might be in the right place, it was still excruciatingly uncomfortable. So, when he swept in while obviously trying hard to not be awkward, she groaned internally.
“Yo, yo,” he declared.
She hunkered down and kept working on her dagger. “Hey, Carl.”
“Hard night? You look exhausted.” This was a classic Carl-ism—pointing out things that weren’t great to point out. “You need more sleep. Me? I can’t function without the full eight hours. I need my beauty sleep.”
Her eyes flicked up to him and back down to the dagger. “I’m fine, thanks. Any particular reason you came back here today?”
Carl’s expression soured. “Some guy came in and asked me to find you.”
She paused. A guy? She leaned back in her chair, dagger in hand and eyed her coworker. “Really?”
“Yeah. He looks like a douchebag.”
She’d been around Carl enough to translate from Carl-speak to reality. This dude was cool, and Carl hated that. It was just like Carl’s hatred of the water delivery guy because the water delivery guy was yoked. Another reason they could never be together: He was always comparing himself to other guys, even when there was no reason for it. She pushed down the rising excitement in her gut. She was overthinking it, forcing what she wanted into something that was totally unrelated. “What did he want?”
Carl fished a note out of his pocket and handed it over between two fingers. “Said something about a job opportunity.”
She yanked the note out of his hands and unfolded it, eagerly reading the scrawled words. With each word, her excitement grew. Just as she hoped—a note from Titus’s office, but written in strong, sexy handwriting.
Dear Molly,
It has come to my attention that the pack is in need of a qualified researcher to analyze the hall of artifacts. Because of your skill set and experience, I am inviting you to apply. More information will be provided in person. Please come to .
. . and it proceeded to explain the directions and timing of the meeting. By the time she got to the bottom, and Titus’s name scrawled in a strong signature, she was grinning ear to ear.
She rose from her seat, excitement racing through her. This was it—opportunity. Opportunity for a change, and opportunity to make something exciting happen.
And, of course, an opportunity to be with a dangerously handsome and sinfully gorgeous billionaire, but that was beside the point.
Maybe a week ago, she would have politely declined the offer, but you know what? Screw that. She was tired of being stuck in some stuffy back room with no excitement in her life. What would it be like going to work for a wolf pack? Maybe it would be fun, and maybe it would be terrible, but the only important thing that she needed to know was that her life was going to change.
She needed to chase that feeling again. She’d done it the night of the spell, and look where that had gotten her. No, this was hardly a time for being worried about the future.
Time to take a chance and see where life led her.
7
Titus hated missing Molly.
The pack alpha was supposed to avoid deep emotional entanglements, or at least that’s what his father literally beat into him. He still remembered coming home as a cub where his father, the reigning alpha, found out that Titus had been playing hooky to spend time with a pretty girl. Titus had been punished, severely. The scars had faded, but the lessons were seared into his mind.
Feelings were weakness, and weakness could be exploited. He was the head of the most powerful and successful wolf pack in America, and every single one of the pack members depended on him to provide for them. To become the alpha was not a job of luxury and happiness. It was a sacrifice, a promise to put the others before yourself. He couldn’t afford any lapses in judgement or weaknesses.
Like going all-in with some witch from God knew where. It was a quick fuck, nothing more, he told himself.
He hadn’t settled down for a few reasons, but perhaps the biggest one was that he couldn’t afford to get distracted. During his life, he had met plenty of men and women who lost their edge after meeting their mates. He couldn’t afford that for himself. His father was dead and buried, but it was hard to shake the instincts that he’d taught Titus. An alpha’s bloodline was crucial, and usually, an arranged marriage would assure it. So far, he was the only alpha to buck that idea, but his time was coming.
He’d been sorely tempted to reach out to Molly the morning after he found her in the woods, but he resisted the urge. Whatever he felt, it was too powerful. For the good of the pack, he needed to stay away and keep his head clear.
But, apparently, it wasn’t working.
One day, after a meeting with some potential investors, Titus realized he’d barely remembered a thing that had been said. As the door swung shut, Seth glanced over at Titus at the head of the table. “You, uh . . .” Seth cleared his throat, like he was trying to come up with a way to say whatever it was.
Titus rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a slow exhale. “Just spit it out.”
“You seem distracted. And pissy.”
Titus snorted. Seth could tell. Of course Seth could tell. Seth knew him better than anyone. “That obvious, huh?”
“Just to me.” Seth wasn’t one to stick his head in Titus’s business often, but apparently, he was feeling inspired. “What’s going on?”
This was going to sound so fucking stupid. He took a deep, frustrated breath. “You remember the witch we caught in the forest?”
Seth paused, a look of confusion flashing across his face. “Yeah?”
Titus locked eyes with his friend, and he finally admitted what he hated to admit even to himself. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Seth opened his mouth, but Titus wasn’t done yet.
“I keep trying to forget about her, but there’s just something . . . I just . . .” he growled. “It’s like she cursed me.”
When he looked up again, Seth was smirking knowingly ear to ear. “Right. That’s what happened.”
“Don’t give me that.”
Seth’s smirk grew wider. “Welcome to emotions, Titus.”
Titus wanted to argue with that, but Seth knew him, knew him even back then. They’d been friends, the only connection Titus was allowed to have, because the betas and alphas were trained together and mandatory.
He brushed it off as nothing, but he knew that was a lie. He couldn’t get her off his mind.
The plan was simple: Let Molly return to her life and forget about it—just a one-night stand after he couldn’t resist her witchy allure. She was safer away from the cutthroat world of pack politics, anyway. He would just focus on work, like always, and move on with his life. Find an unobjectionable mate someday, sire a litter of alphas and one day, select the strongest to be his successor.
But every day, he could still smell Molly around him, even after countless showers. Her witchy spice stayed on the tip of his tongue and he woke up wild-eyed and panting at night, almost mindless with arousal.
During the endless meetings that filled his days, he found himself thinking about her to the exclusion of everything else. Whatever force pushed them together and stirred the lust that boiled between them tormented him still. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, his instincts rode him to bring her back. Keep her close.
After a week, he broke. He was more distracted trying to ignore his instincts than he would be with Molly around, so he finally got frustrated and looked her up. Most of it was basic stuff: Molly Jefferson, thirty-three years old. She lived in the next town over and apparently had built quite a reputation as a magical researcher, with a specialty in runes. He knew that she was smart when he talked to her and saw the intelligence that sparked in her eyes, but the list of credentials and publications floored him. She wasn’t just a pretty face—she knew her shit, and that became increasingly obvious.
So, how to bring her back in a way that wouldn’t be obvious? It was already going to be questionable bringing in a non-pack member. It wasn’t like he could just walk out and ask her to dinner. There were rules to be followed, traditions. The pack remained pure, and an alpha inviting a human witch to just hang out at the compound would be a mistake.
But consulting a human witch about a project in his capacity as pack alpha?
Now that, that was fine.
The pack had been around a thousand years. They’d grown, survived, and thrived together, evolving with the times and creating magical weapons for modern warfare. A collection of relics remained in the pack archives, though, and over time, their purpose was lost to memory. Their runes had faded and their magic had fizzled out, and no living wolf had the expertise to rediscover their uses.
Who was more qualified to oversee a research project than Molly? He had the funds and the good of the pack in mind. He sent a note to Molly, care of her museum, and waited. If she accepted the invitation, great. If not, he would put this behind him. Either way, his desire to focus would improve. Theoretically.
The time clicked closer and closer to the time he’d set up the interview for. He needed to be professional this go-around. Whatever power she had over him needed to go away for him to have her around. If every time he saw her, he wouldn’t be able to think over his passions, he couldn’t have her around. This was a test, a test to see if she could be around the pack and have him remain professional and capable of leadership.
He worked all day in his office until Samantha buzzed him that Molly was there for their meeting.
He straightened in his chair, feeling a rush of excitement before he stuffed it down. He took a deep, calculating breath.
Titus paused for a second, glancing up from his laptop.
This time, he’d be in the driver’s seat. Calm. Rational. Predictable. He rolled his shoulders back and leaned back in his leather chair, feeling out his sense of control. She’d caught him off guard the first time, but it wouldn’t happen again. This was merely a m
eeting for a job. All personal feelings had to be put aside.
He pressed the intercom button to respond. “Let her in.”
A moment later, the heavy oak doors swung open. Molly entered. His heart thundered and heat rose in his blood as she walked in the door, dark hair swinging behind her.
She looked . . . beautiful.
Exquisite.
It was that same, dry-mouth, heart-stopping attraction that he felt the first time, only now he was expecting it. She wore modest professional clothing that hinted at the curves underneath—curves he was itching to touch again. Her black hair framed her face, showing off her smooth ivory skin and those breathtaking golden eyes. She smiled when she saw him, that same, teasing smirk.
“Hey, Titus,” she said as she moved closer to the desk.
Professional. He forced back his raging emotions and took a deep breath. He rose and took a few steps forward to meet her across the room with a handshake and a smirk. “Molly. It’s nicer to meet you in less . . . illegal circumstances.”
“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” she said as she took his hand in hers. Their fingers touched, and he felt an electric tingle in his palms. She felt it too, judging by the goosebumps he saw travel up her forearm.
Hardly. “I’ve been working,” he explained. “You’re here because you’re a renowned artifact researcher, and I’m in need of a renowned artifact researcher.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Right,” she said.
He guided her back to his desk, pulling out her chair as she sat before going around the other side. His emotions cooled a bit, giving him the ability to make clearer decisions. Molly was a regular person, a professional, and he would treat her like any other professional woman. “The pack has a hall of artifacts from previous conquests and expeditions dating back at least a thousand years. As you might guess, many of these artifacts are inscribed with runes, but the magic in them has dissipated through the years and we are not certain what they do. If you’re up for it, you seem like someone who could fill that need.”
