by Hickory Mack
“We can’t bring him back to the compound with us,” Cross sighed.
“Obviously we can’t. He’s way too unpredictable. How many more of these guys are out there? Four mates? Four?” Elsie was angry again, pacing back and forth while her mates looked on.
“Excuse me? I have a question,” Pascal cut in, and her head whipped around so she could glare at him.
“What?”
“Where’s the fourth?”
“She had to go take care of her brother,” Elsie ground out. He didn’t question her, simply going with it even though it was impossible to mate with another woman.
“And, what’s your name, love?”
“Elsie,” she said, though she looked as though she would rather slap him again than answer the question.
“Elsie? Short for something delightfully old-fashioned, I’d imagine. Esther, perhaps?”
“Elspeth.”
“Keeping with the witchy theme, I see. Well, Elspeth, from what I’m hearing, we were both looking for something. You seem to have the advantage as I didn’t know what I was looking for until I found you. What is it you’re looking for? Witches? I can help you find witches. I know a fair few. Why do you even need them when there’s one standing right next to you?” Pascal questioned.
Elsie crouched down so she wasn’t towering over him anymore. Why did he have to be so good looking? It would be a lot easier to hate him if he were a troll, or a goblin, or something equally atrocious. She explained to him her need for the witches, which led to more questions, and before she knew it, he’d wrung out her whole story.
When she finally finished speaking, the moon was high in the sky. Saint was sleeping with his head in her lap, and Pascal was looking at her with something akin to pity in his eyes.
“Where is this wolf you speak of?” he asked, and Elsie shrugged.
“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. He doesn’t go far, just enough to get a taste of freedom.”
“Why did you decide kidnapping her was the best choice?” Cross demanded. He wasn’t ready to move on quite yet.
“As I said, I didn’t know what I was looking for until I found her. I wanted the chance to speak with her alone and discover for myself what was going on. There are so many lessers in that town, and they can be incredibly invasive into other people’s privacy. They can’t seem to keep their noses where they belong,” Pascal said. “A mate was the furthest thing from my mind when I set out to find whatever was calling to me. Now that I’ve heard your story and had a chance to look at you properly, I think I’m going to keep you.”
Elsie frowned, but she didn’t say anything. Like Cross, this guy was another stranger she knew nothing about. She couldn’t say if she had any interest in him, other than his looks.
“Why did you refer to the other demons as lessers?” she asked, and he gave her an odd look.
“Because that is what they are. Do you call them something else?”
“What are you?” Cross asked bluntly.
“Are you unable to tell?” Pascal asked, confused. “I’m a wolverine.”
‘He’s a Lord,’ Saint said, not opening his eyes. He was perfectly comfortable right where he was, between Elsie and the other two.
“A Lord?” she asked doubtfully. She couldn’t feel any magic coming from him at all.
“Yes,” Pascal said easily.
“You don’t feel like a Lord.”
“Pray tell me, my feisty little mate, what is a Lord supposed to feel like?” Pascal asked, amused.
“Scary,” Elsie answered.
“You want me to frighten you?” Pascal’s dark eyebrows rose into the fringe of black and silver hair covering his forehead. Where he came from, he didn’t need to use his magic to intimidate people. His reputation did that for him. He eyed the reaper cautiously. If that’s what she really wanted, he supposed he could…
“No,” she answered, confusing him further.
“I’m getting mixed signals.”
“What we’re saying is, Demon Lords are typically very strong, magically. And you aren’t giving off any magic at all,” Cross clarified.
“Is that all?” Pascal scoffed. He reached out for his magic, mentally removing the blocks that hid it from the world. The air around them grew heavier, and the wolfhound demon opened his eyes, staring at him without relinquishing his place.
Elsie paused her stroking of Saint’s curls. The wealth of Pascal’s power was repressive, almost crushing. He had dark magic as well as ethereal, but most overwhelming was the sheer amount of earth magic pooling around them. His hand closed into a fist, and the feeling was immediately gone.
“I find that it’s easier to live a normal life like anyone else when people aren’t flocking to me over something as banal as how much magic I’m packing. Was that convincing enough, or do you require a demonstration?” he asked, and Elsie nodded numbly. She was definitely convinced. “Good. Now, all we need to do is find some witches, then I can take you home with me, right?”
Elsie rolled her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know you.”
“I’ve told you who I am. Mouro Pascal, necromancer and Lord of the Superior Wolverine Pack. More importantly, I’m your mate. What else do you need to know?” he questioned with a sigh. He’d behaved himself long enough, and he was starting to get impatient. Pascal wasn’t the kind of guy to wallow in worry when he could just go take care of the problem and be done with it.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Elsie sighed.
‘Is he an idiot?’ Saint asked.
“Doubtful,” she sighed out loud. “He has to have some brains to become a Lord, right?”
“True,” Pascal agreed, though he hadn’t heard Saint’s part of the conversation. “Do you think we could possibly spend some time alone together? It’s a little awkward to try and get to know you with these other men hanging around.”
“No,” Elsie and Cross said at the same time.
“Do you think we’re going to trust you with her after you tried to kidnap her?” Cross scoffed.
“I’m asking to be polite. I don’t really have to be. I could just take her from you,” he reminded them.
“If you want any kind of future together, then yes, you have to continue to be polite,” Elsie said, her voice low.
“I couldn’t say with any confidence that I’ve come to that decision yet,” he said, already forgetting that he’d decided to keep her not long before then.
‘You can’t get rid of him,’ Saint said, though his tone was regretful. ‘What if he’s the reason we get an invitation to meet the witches?’
‘I don’t want to be alone with him,’ Elsie said, though she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She was having a hard time looking at the guy because every time she glanced his way, she ended up staring.
‘You don’t have to be, but at least try getting to know him. As much as I hate it, he is your mate. That doesn’t happen for no reason. You’re supposed to be together. Don’t hurt yourself by trying to hurt him,’ he advised.
‘Since when are you the logical one?’ she grumbled.
“Maybe you could help us track these witches down,” she suggested out loud. “We can talk a bit more while we look.”
“Darling, you just point the way, and we’ll get to it,” Pascal said, winking at her playfully. “Tell me more about these witches.”
Elsie described them, adding details from Saint as he reminded her. The longer she talked, the more confused Pascal looked.
“The incubus had bright red hair?” he pondered. For some reason, her descriptions tickled something at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. “There aren’t many outside of the vampire kingdoms, so I’d imagine one with that coloring should be easy enough to find. I’ll help you find these half-breed witches, but for a price.”
Chapter 41
“Alright, let’s hear it. What’s the price for helping us find them?” Elsie asked. T
hanks to Wren and her games of give and take, she was already feeling like a pro at this game.
“How about we leave it as ‘to be determined’?” he offered, and she shook her head. She wasn’t stupid enough to take an open-ended offer from a demon she’d just met. “Hmm. Then agree to come home with me. At least for a while. You won’t have to lift a finger. Once you experience what it’s like to be treated as a princess, you aren’t going to want to leave.”
Cross didn’t know enough about her to know why that offer was so dangerous, so Saint frowned hard enough for the both of them. There was nothing his mistress wanted more than to be a spoiled pampered princess who never had to leave her bed unless she wanted to. Elsie could be a total badass, but she was a lazy girl at heart, and this wolverine was speaking her language.
“You haven’t even decided you want me yet,” she reminded him, tilting her chin upward, but Saint wasn’t fooled for a second. Whether she’d admit it or not, she was curious about what he was offering.
“My opinion on that is greatly influenced by whether or not you want me. I figure by the time we find those witches, I’ll have an idea of what kind of person you are. A man can learn a lot about a woman when she’s stressed out, and I gather this is a pretty serious need for you.”
“So you plan to test me, see if I’m worthy of you?” Elsie snorted. Pascal shrugged in reply.
“As a Lord, I don’t exactly live a danger-free life. You will be exposed to neighboring Lords, who can be jealous assholes. From where I’m standing, a mate is a liability—someone to care about, a walking, talking vulnerability. Finding a mate is a rarity among my people,” he told her. “You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s not something I’d thought about until now. It may come as a shock, but unlike some of your other mates, I haven’t been looking forward to meeting you my whole life.”
Saint and Cross looked away. They both fit perfectly into the mold he was talking about. Elsie had told Saint everything, so he knew all about what Cross had been through trying to find her. Meanwhile, this lucky bastard found her so easily. So what if he’d had to travel a thousand miles? Saint had lost his entire family to find her, while Cross had given up over a hundred years.
“I feel the same. Even though I knew I would take mates, I didn’t want any. Sometimes fate has a way of laughing in our faces when we think we know what we want,” Elsie murmured. Pascal gave her a winning smile, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Sometimes you have to make your own fate.”
“So far, I’ve been happy with what it’s given me. I love my mates. Even if that wasn’t true in the beginning.”
Cross stared at her like a love struck puppy, and she threw a wink his way. This wasn’t the best way to express her feelings for him. They hadn’t exactly had a lot of time alone together. Maybe she wasn’t in love with him yet, but the love was there.
“You’re suggesting that some unseen force knows what you want more than you do?” he questioned, and Elsie smiled, playing with Saint’s hair. If the hunters hadn’t gotten in their way, they would have spent a lot more of their lives together, even without the bond. She couldn’t say the same for Wren and Cross.
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
“You want me to choose to keep you,” he said, his dark eyes burrowing into her soul. She offered him the hint of a smile in return.
“Give it time, Mouro. You’ll want to, eventually. You may even be happy about it.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Though he’d invited her to use his name, it still took him by surprise that she’d chosen to do so. A very select number of people called him Mouro. Two, actually. And he held them both in high esteem. This reaper wasn’t afraid of him, and he had to admit to himself that he kind of liked it.
“I’ll give it time if you do the same,” he replied.
“Neither of you gets another minute if you try anything stupid with her again,” Cross threatened. Saint’s eyes darted over, impressed with the witch’s temerity. Pascal looked his way and gave him a smile, showing far too many teeth.
“I believe we’ll leave that up to the lady,” he said boldly. “She seems capable of defending herself without intervention. You understand that being my mate comes with a title? You’ll be Lady Elspeth of House Pascal. In the North, away from these dead lands, such a title holds weight.”
“I hadn’t actually had time to think about it,” she admitted. While it had a nice ring to it, she wasn’t in the least bit interested in any of the responsibilities that might come with such a title. She had a fucking Dragon Gate to open, for gods’ sake. She couldn’t be playing kings and castles with a Demon Lord.
Frida curled up next to Elsie, and she petted the cat, thinking how suspicious it was that she had no interest in the wolverine now that the bond had formed. She glared at the alebrije, wondering how her spirit guide had known from the beginning what Mouro was to her. The sneak.
Saint sat up and pulled her to her feet. ‘We should go before it gets too late. That group didn’t act much like nocturnal creatures. They were way too energetic.’
“Good point,” she agreed. “Back to town we go.”
Three hours later, Elsie was ready to give up. They hadn’t had a single sighting of any of the five people they’d spotted earlier, and the tension between Mouro and her other mates was starting to get on her nerves. Not that the wolverine seemed to give a shit, but the witch was one bad joke away from attempted murder.
“Maybe we should try again in the morning,” she sighed. There weren’t as many demons on the streets, and their chances of finding the group they were looking for was getting slim.
“We can take Frida and Frost back to the compound and get some sleep,” Cross agreed, but Elsie’s gaze cut over to Mouro. He’d been every bit as alert as the rest of them, even volunteering to enter different establishments to look around for the red-headed incubus witch.
“I can take you back if that’s where you’re more comfortable,” she said. “I’m going to stay.”
It wasn’t even a question as to where Saint would be going. He’d be at her side no matter what she chose. Elsie felt bad for Cross, though. She wasn’t given enough time to give him the affection he deserved. She wanted more alone time with him too.
Turning to the witch, she wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling in for a warm hug, and he immediately responded, pulling her in tight. Their circumstances were so unfair to him and to her. Every time she thought she could get closer to Cross, something came up and she had to go. She couldn’t keep putting everything else before him. It wasn’t right.
Still in his arms, she glanced at Mouro, whose eyes were on hers. Her position with the wolverine was precarious at best, and it tore her in two directions.
“You haven’t sealed your bond with that one,” Mouro guessed. “Why ever not?”
“It’s complicated,” Elsie sighed.
“Come on, love, nothing is that complicated. Do you want him or not? It’s that simple. I, for one, won’t be waiting for long. There’s no room for indecisive bullshit. I claim what’s mine the moment I’ve decided it belongs to me.”
“It’s because of the hunters,” Elsie explained, elaborating when he didn’t look impressed.
“It sounds like an excuse,” Mouro said when she finished. “Life has to fall perfectly into place before you can put yourselves out of your misery? I’ve been with a masochist before, and it can be loads of fun, but this goes even beyond that. Why are you so determined to be unhappy? This is something in your life that you’re actually in control of.”
Elsie was at a loss for words. She hadn’t seen it like that. Mouro sauntered over to them, pulling her out of Cross’ arms and into his own. She didn’t slap him this time; she didn’t even attempt to pull away from him. She was too caught up in his eyes, fringed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen.
“Let me give you some advice, Elspeth. If you want something in this world, you need to take i
t before somebody else does.” A hand on the small of her back, the other on the back of her neck, he bent down and kissed her.
A tiny, embarrassing noise escaped her throat. She’d wanted that kiss all night. His hand lowered to grip her ass, pulling her hips against his as his tongue slipped between her lips. Suddenly, his age was a massive perk. Mouro Pascal knew how to give a kiss that made her knees weak. She let him support her as he showed every demon who happened to be walking by that she belonged to him.
He pulled back and gave her the sexiest fucking smile, then gently pushed her back into Cross. Though the witch held her tight, Mouro came closer, pinning her between them as his mouth brushed her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.
“It’s time to make a decision,” he whispered. “Are you going to keep being miserable, or are you going to take what’s yours?”
Cross’ hands tightened around her, his fingers spread across her stomach posessively. Her head was still swimming from Mouro’s kiss, and it confused her. She didn’t know which one of them she wanted more. Then she caught sight of Saint, standing a few feet to the side, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, and her breath caught in her throat.
Why did they all have to be so fucking hot?
“Cross,” she said, his name a question on her lips. Gods, she didn’t want this to be the reason she sealed her bond with him, but the witch didn’t seem to care.
Mouro nibbled her ear and gave her the lightest laugh. “Enjoy yourself, but I’d better be seeing you again very, very soon. My mind is made up. Your arousal smells… delectable. I will have you.”
Elsie’s whole body flushed with heat, not wanting to leave either of them. Was it so wrong to want both of them at once? Mouro stepped back, and she nearly whimpered aloud. What was it about this guy that had her so turned on? The wolverine demon gave her brujo a crooked smile.
“Do your best to make tonight memorable because I’m going to do my best to make her forget you come morning,” he promised. “Elspeth, I’ll be waiting for you at the boarding house. Don’t bring these two along when you come to me unless you want them to participate.”
