by Lola Gabriel
Orin and Mash came in through the back door that led out to the wooden deck where most of Cole’s pondering took place, even though he’d deny it with his life. Although most people who knew him thought he was an overconfident, arrogant man who lived life by his own rules and never opened himself up to other people, he actually spent a lot of his time evaluating his life and wondering whether everything he had done in his life had been the right thing.
His two Betas plundered into the house, their rowdy and enthused nature filling up the room, but Cole just watched them placidly.
“Hey, Cole,” they greeted him.
“Morning,” Cole responded. “Good to see you’re both in one piece.”
“Yeah, you know us. Nothing gets us down,” Orin said and gave Mash a fist-pump as they shared an apparently private joke.
“Where have you been?” Mash asked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Or should I not ask?”
“My personal life has nothing to do with anyone,” Cole reminded them in a clipped tone and drank his coffee quietly.
The two Betas exchanged intrigued glances, and Orin shrugged. “I bet she was blonde.”
Cole glowered for another short while and finally turned his attention to the duo in front of him. “How was your trip? Did you find anything out of the ordinary?”
“It was good. Cold, but good,” Mash answered.
“We went right down to the California border. We heard from a reliable source that the Crescents’ top tiers were vacationing there,” Orin answered.
Cole’s interest was immediately piqued, and he turned to Orin and Mash, giving them his full attention.
If there was a single word that could immediately capture the attention of an Alpha, or any member of his pack, for that matter, it was that one. It struck fear into the minds and hearts of even the most powerful Alphas in the country.
Crescents.
Back in the 18th century, the Crescents had settled in Louisiana, or more specifically, New Orleans. They were originally from France and had traveled to New Orleans a few years after it was founded. The packs settled into the lush plantations in the area, and they were much happier there, free from the persecution that almost led to the extinction of the pack. Sure, they weren't the friendliest bunch, or the most subtle in their actions, but they were sneaky. In the mid-19th century, another pack threatened to take over their lands, and the Crescents' Alpha and Betas slaughtered the entire pack, burning their bodies in a pyre.
They were brutal, badass, and straight-up terrifying. Definitely not a pack to mess around with. Luckily, they were easy to identify, due to their very distinct scent, and the fact that each member had a crescent moon tattooed on their hand. That very tattoo, or even the mention of the pack’s name, was enough to command the utmost respect from anyone who saw or heard it, although unfortunately, the Crescents’ top tiers often mistook fear for respect
“Did you see them there? How many of them are there?” Cole asked.
“California is not our territory, Cole. We need permission if we want to go there. You know that,” Orin answered and crossed his arms. “But they were close.”
Cole’s jaw clenched, and he stared at them wordlessly for a short while. He quickly sorted his thoughts through the fogginess of his mind and lowered his gaze.
“Those Crescents are sneaky. I don't even want to know how they got permission from the Cali Alpha to go on vacation in their territory,” Mash pointed out.
“Is Louisiana getting a little dull for them?” Orin muttered.
“Contact the Cali Alpha, arrange a meeting with him,” Cole ordered, but as he glanced at the two Betas, he assumed his words had been incoherent. They stared at him in confusion and Orin stepped forward.
“Uhm, Cole. I don’t really think that’s a good idea,” Orin warned. “You and I know how he can be.”
“He’s no worse than the Crescent Alpha.”
Orin nodded reluctantly and shifted his weight. “Okay. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise anything.”
Cole nodded wordlessly, satisfied with Orin’s response. “I have to run a few errands in town. Do you need me for anything else?”
“There’s just one other thing, Cole.”
“What is it?” Cole didn't like the expression on Orin’s face, and his eyes narrowed.
Orin and Mash exchanged worried and uncomfortable glances, and Mash stepped forward. “Alora is looking for you.”
“Good for her,” Cole grumbled and pushed passed his two Betas and down the long hallway.
“She sounded pretty adamant to see you again,” Mash called out to him.
“No one likes a desperate woman,” Cole called back and quickly got dressed. He had to get out of the house as quickly as possible— he definitely didn’t want to get cornered by Alora today, or any other day.
Alora was Mash’s cousin, and ever since Cole had hooked up with her one drunken evening, she had been trying to see him, but Cole wasn't interested. He was so far away from wanting a relationship with anyone that her clinginess terrified him. Simply the fact that she was calling on her cousin to find out Cole’s whereabouts was very troubling to him.
He pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, along with a pair of boots and a leather jacket. He didn't bother with his hair, grabbing a beanie from the chest of drawers as he left the bedroom.
Mash and Orin were still standing where they had been a few minutes ago, and they turned to him.
“I’m going out,” Cole announced tersely as he grabbed his keys and his wallet from the kitchen counter.
“Are you really trying to avoid Alora that badly?” Orin asked.
“Yes,” Cole answered simply.
“I don’t get you,” Mash said as Cole walked to the front door and opened it. “You begged me—”
“I don’t beg anyone for anything,” Cole growled as he turned around.
Mash raised his hands in the air and corrected himself. “You were the one who wanted to hook up with Alora.”
“Yes, and I did. Now it’s over. I’ve moved on, and so should she,” Cole said and stepped outside. “Out.”
The Betas knew it wasn't a request, especially not with the tone of voice he used, and they quickly stepped outside with him.
“So that’s it? You’re over Alora?”
“Yes,” Cole answered as he walked to his bike and climbed on it. “If you could please tell her that, that’d be great.”
“I’m not playing messenger—”
“I thought you already were,” Cole pointed out, which silenced Mash, and he pulled his helmet on. “Later.”
Cole stuck the key in the ignition, and the motorcycle roared to life. He gave them a brief wave before speeding off into town.
The hardware store was empty as Cole sauntered through the aisles, positive that Alora wouldn’t look for him there. He doubted Alora even knew there was a hardware store in town. In all fairness, Mash’s cousin was hot, with her long, blonde hair and her curvy hips that would make any mountain road envious. She had full breasts and a narrow waist, and an ass that could make any wolf howl to the moon, even if there wasn't a moon to howl to in the first place. As hot as she was, she was way too clingy for Cole. She was a hook-up, nothing more, and as much as he tried to explain that to her, she just didn't get the message. Luckily they didn't imprint, as Cole was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to handle that for the rest of his life.
A strange smell suddenly filled his nostrils, and as it traveled through his nasal cavity to the back of his mouth, he tasted a distinct mixture on his tongue. This caused something to stir up inside him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. It was a familiar taste, things he had tasted on their own many times, but never together, and with such intensity. It was also very distinct, and despite its familiarity, it was a unique sensation of flavors.
Sage.
Vanilla.
Raspberry.
Mint.
Cole Wylde was born wit
h the amazing ability to identify anything by taste—even if it were a mixture of different things—and break down the components of what it contained. From a very young age, he could differentiate between anything he tasted, and could recall every single flavor he had ever sampled in his entire life.
At first, Cole was convinced that his ability wasn't of any significance, and that he had been given the least useful ability of all the brothers, but somehow he discovered that his gift included the ability to allow anyone to taste things before they actually did. By simply describing it to the person, they would get the taste of it in their mouths and be reminded of happy memories, or even traumatic events.
For years, before starting his own pack in Oregon, Cole worked with the police department in Alabama interrogating the witnesses, helping them identify the killer’s or perpetrator’s scent. Many criminals were put behind bars because of his ability, but Cole wanted to do something else with his life. Playing a good guy was never the ideal thing. He had been seen as a villain for such a long time that he started to think he was one.
3
Asra sauntered around the hardware store, not really sure what she was looking for exactly. She had never spent much time in stores like this before, but it definitely made her feel a sense of normalcy. Her grandmother and her mother were highly opposed to her living her life as a ‘normal’ human being.
Asra didn’t see herself as only a witch like her mother and grandmother did. She was a human being, with feelings, emotions, and willpower, who was lucky enough—or unlucky enough, depending on how you looked at it—to have been bestowed the amazing gift of being a witch.
Asra considered herself to have the best of both worlds, although she would never tell that to her grandmother.
Edythe Bishop came with her parents from Massachusetts to Oregon when she herself was a little girl, and was raised to be old-school, set in the ways her mother taught her, and was as stubborn and hard-headed today as she was back then.
Asra chuckled to herself as she thought of what her grandmother would think if she knew Asra was in the hardware store looking for light bulbs, instead of just generating light from her hands.
Sure, Asra did do that, but it wasn't something that she wanted to do all the time. Her neighbors were nosey, and she didn't want to risk exposing her coven. The last time that happened, it didn't end well for a lot of people.
Asra stopped suddenly, not quite sure why, and glanced over her shoulder. A strange feeling ran down her spine as she made her way down the aisle. With every step she took, the feeling became stronger, until finally, she saw him standing across the store.
She couldn't technically see all of him, as he stood with his back to her, but what she could see, she definitely liked. His jeans hugged his hips in a way that instantly drove her crazy, and there was just something about him that called out to her in a way she had never felt before. Writing it off as the new moon messing with her emotions and hormones, she shrugged it off and continued her shopping. As she scanned the shelves for things she may possibly need, she peered through the racks in hopes of catching another glimpse of the guy with the incredibly delectable ass.
A totally slappable ass, she thought to herself, causing her to giggle softly. Sneaking another look between the shelves, she realized the guy wasn't standing where he had been before, and as Asra took a few more steps to the side to see where he was, she accidentally bumped into someone.
She glanced up, and before she could apologize or get a single word out, she found herself staring up into the bright green eyes of the hot man with the even hotter ass.
Asra’s breathing was ragged for a few seconds until she composed herself and stepped away. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn't see you there,” she stuttered.
“That’s okay,” he answered in a deep and smooth voice that seductively caressed her insides. “Who were you spying on through the shelves?”
“No one,” Asra answered a little too quickly and cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”
She tried to push past him, but he was blocking her way through.
“Could you move, please?” she muttered, looking everywhere but at him.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked.
Asra shook her head and answered, “No, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Right,” he scoffed and held out his hand to her. “I’m Cole. Cole Wylde.”
“Asra Morgan,” she introduced herself.
As soon as she touched his hand, something even stranger happened. A sudden jolt of electricity traveled into her hand from his, and she gazed up at him, startled.
Did he feel that?
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine. I—I just remembered that I have to be somewhere,” she stammered.
“Do you always stutter when you lie?” he asked.
She scowled as she pulled her hand away from his and crossed her arms. “What makes you think I am lying?”
“Because it’s written all over your face,” Cole answered.
Asra shifted around uncomfortably and shook her head. “I have to go,” she said, whirling around and bolting out of the hardware store. Not wanting him to catch up to her, she kept walking straight to her car and drove home in a panic.
Although Asra would not call herself the most socially awkward person in the world, there was something about Cole that made her feel like a bashful teenager. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her palms were sweaty, and she acted like a complete idiot in front of him.
There was also something else that stuck in her mind.
Cole Wylde.
His name sounded incredibly familiar, but she couldn't recall or figure out why. Her mother ought to know, but did she really want to involve her family in this—whatever the hell it was? She had an ‘encounter’ with a man, and she definitely didn't want them to think that she was interested in a ‘normal human’.
Only, something inside Asra made her think that he wasn't a normal human anyway.
At home, she opened the door which led to the basement and carefully walked down the narrow steps. She reached for the light switch, and the basement was instantly illuminated in a soft yellow glow. Asra made her way to the large bookshelf that stood on the opposite wall and scanned it for a few seconds. She had been given a few books from her grandmother over the years—books containing different spells, information about their families and where they lived, and even a complete family history dating back to the beginning of time. Maybe not that far back, but it was a pretty detailed family tree. She eventually found a thick, leather-bound volume and set it down on the table in the middle of the room. Scanning the pages, she couldn't find anything on Cole Wylde, even though every cell in her body told her she should. There was something about Cole Wylde that heightened her senses, but at the same time urged her to stay far away from him.
Asra was a bit perplexed by this, as it was not a feeling she had ever felt before to this extent, and it was unsettling for her. She became so engrossed and fascinated by the contents of the book, that when a loud knock came from her front door, her body jolted and she was convinced she was having a heart attack, even if it was only for a few seconds. She slammed the book shut, clutched it against her chest and headed back up the stairs. The knocking became more persistent, and as she placed the book down on the kitchen counter, she saw her mother through the glass panel of the front door.
Sighing dramatically, she plastered a fake smile on her face and opened the door.
“Mother,” Asra greeted her, noticing her mother had a large box lying at her feet. “What’s this?”
“Your father’s things you promised to come get,” her mother said.
“Oh, crap, right. I completely forgot. I am so sorry,” Asra grimaced. “Let me take it now.”
“Don’t bother, it’s as heavy as can be,” her mother grumbled. “I’ll just give it a few kicks.”
Asra pursed her lips, noticing a hint of hosti
lity coming from her mother, and stepped aside as her mother entered the house, kicking the box like it was a soccer ball.
“Would you like some tea, Mom?” she asked.
“That would be great,” her mother replied, “but none of that store-bought stuff you like to force down my throat.”
Asra rolled her eyes and closed the door, following her mother, and the box, into the kitchen. “You’re beginning to sound like Grandma, you know.”
Her mother scoffed and sat down at the kitchen table.
Asra opened the cabinet, took out a burlap sack of tea leaves, and prepared a special tea, just the way her mother liked it. It was a bit labor-intensive and time-consuming, not to mention old-fashioned, but she did it for her mother.
That, and she would never hear the end of it if she didn’t.
“Asra, what is your grimoire doing on the counter?” her mother asked suddenly, and Asra froze.
Dammit, I forgot I put it there, she silently scolded herself.
“I was looking for something,” Asra answered and poured her and her mother a cup of tea. Turning around, she placed the two cups on the table and sat down beside her mother.
“What were you looking for? Maybe I can help you.”
Her mother, bless her old soul, took helpful to a whole new level, especially when magic was involved.
“That’s okay. It wasn't important,” Asra shrugged.
“It was important enough to bring your grimoire into the kitchen. You never do that.”
Asra bit her bottom lip. Her mother was right. She never brought her grimoire upstairs. It was safely packed away in the basement on the second shelf, third book from the right. That’s where it had always been, and that was where she thought it would always be.
“What’s going on, Azzie?”
“I was really just looking for information on someone,” she answered vaguely.
“Your father?”
Asra’s eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, everything you want to know about your father and his family is in the box. Old photographs, diaries and journals, everything.”
