"Where's Dorian?" asked a raspy, sly female voice filled with power.
The lady was seated cross-legged on what seemed to be her throne. Since she was the highest witch, power had been given to her at an early age. After her mom, Romina Valis, being attacked and killed by the werewolves, she swore never to let them rest in peace — ever. She thought of one thing only: revenge for her mother.
Neris Valis was a beautiful, nice-looking woman with firm features — siren eyes, a sharp jaw, a beautifully well-shaped nose, and full lips that always held a smirk. Her body was curvy in all the rightful ways. Her hair was curly and red, decorated with charms that gave her a wild aura.
Her body wasn't much covered. She wore what looked like a black blouse that only covered her tits, revealing her waist, which had some chains hanging around it. A short wrapper skirt hugged her thighs. Anklets jingled on both legs, and bangles adorned both wrists.
"He's no more, Moonmother," replied Rose, one of the panther shifters who had managed to escape after attacking Kya, her gaze unintentionally dropping at Neris' thighs.
The woman literally looked so good — she was hard to resist.
"I see," Neris said, sipping something from her glass.
"We were attacked by werewolves," Rose added.
"I know. And you can now leave," she dismissed her, staring deeply at her glass, endless thoughts running through her mind.
"Thank you, Moonmother," Rose bowed slightly, then left the room.
Why would those beasts help a mere human?
She then summoned one of her best panther shifters — Taigen.
"You called for me, Moonmother?" he said, entering the room and standing a few steps away from where she was seated.
"I did."
"How may I be of help?" he asked politely.
"Kya Gonzalez," Neris said flatly.
"Okay," he replied, leaving immediately
...
Xavier's POV
"Punch me."
"Come again?" Jeremy looked at me like I had lost it.
"I said punch me," I repeated, shoving him hard in the chest. That finally snapped something in him. His fist flew, slamming right into my abdomen. I staggered slightly, clutching my middle. Damn, I needed that.
My brain was all over the place. Thoughts colliding. Feelings screaming. We had been training for a while now, but clearly, I needed something else. Something rougher. Something that could silence the chaos in my head.
"Don't hold back," I growled at him.
Jeremy didn't hesitate this time. He came at me with full speed, trying to kick my side, but I dodged just in time. Instinct took over—I backboxed him in the ribs, feeling the impact reverberate through my knuckles. He stumbled but came right back, pushing me with force. I held my ground. We went at it again. Fists flying, bodies clashing, sweat dripping.
The training room echoed with heavy breathing and the thuds of our movements. It wasn't just a sparring session—it was war. Me versus my emotions. Me versus the truth.
We kept going until we were both exhausted, panting and dripping in sweat. Finally, we dropped to the mat, backs against the wall, catching our breath.
"Man, you good?" Jeremy asked between gulps of water.
"I'm okay," I muttered, pushing myself up. I didn't want to sit and talk. I needed air. I needed space. I needed escape.
I walked out of the room without another word, heading straight for the woods. The moment the trees welcomed me, something inside settled a bit. But not enough.
So I ran.
Full speed.
Branches whipped past me as I dodged them, the sound of leaves rustling beneath my feet. The deeper I went, the wilder I felt. My wolf stirred, sensing the forest, the freedom.
It wanted out.
And I let it.
Bones cracked, fur sprouted, my body shifted and stretched as I transformed. Now on four legs, I tore through the woods, wind slicing past me. My claws dug into the earth, heart pounding in sync with nature.
But even as I ran, one name wouldn't leave my mind.
Kya.
My mate.
My beautiful, dangerous, complicated mate.
I could feel her presence even from miles away—like a string pulling at my soul. Telling her that she was mine… That part? That was going to be its own battlefield. It wouldn't be easy. Hell, nothing about her ever was.
But I had to do it.
I couldn't keep running from her—or the truth.
...
Katrina's POV
"Don't touch that," I said sharply to some random kid who was reaching out toward the ancient necklace hanging from a dusty mannequin.
That was the number one rule in this store: no touching—unless it was a book. Everything else in here was old, rare, probably cursed, and absolutely off-limits. That's what my grandpa had always told me. He drilled it into me long before he passed away… mysteriously, I might add.
Grandpa was the kind of man you couldn't forget. Strong, firm, a little crazy in that old-man-knows-too-much way. He used to tell me stories that would've made your skin crawl—about witches, vampires, werewolves, demons, and all other kinds of creepy shit. He said this store wasn't just a store, but a gatekeeper of history—supernatural history.
Of course, I never believed him back then. Thought it was just bedtime stories with a gothic twist. Fiction. Nonsense. Whatever helped him sleep at night.
Now? I'm not so sure.
Anyway, this kid I just snapped at—he looked at me like I'd just grown horns. His hand froze mid-air, guilt written all over his young face.
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?"
He didn't say anything right away. I adjusted my reading glasses and ran a hand through my messy-ass hair. Yeah, I probably looked like a hot mess—oversized sweater, no makeup, bun half falling out, dark circles for days. A lot had been running through my mind lately.
Mostly Kya.
That girl had problems. And somehow, I was always the one stuck thinking about them.
"Well?" I pressed.
"N-Nothing, ma'am," the kid stammered. He looked like he was in his early teens, maybe thirteen. Old enough to know better. But curious enough to still be annoying.
"You want something?" I asked, folding my arms.
"I... I want a book."
"Oh yeah?" I said, dry as hell. "You wanted a book? Is that why you were reaching out to touch a necklace?"
He lowered his head a bit. "Sorry. It just caught my attention."
I sighed, tapping the laminated sign nearby.
"Read here," I told him.
(DO NOT TOUCH – ANTIQUES SECTION)
"I saw that," he mumbled.
"And?"
"I still wanted to touch," he admitted under his breath.
I stared at him. This kid was going to make me lose it.
"Okay, look," I said, crouching a bit to make eye contact, but keeping my voice firm. "These things aren't toys. They're fragile, valuable, and not for curious little fingers. You can only touch books. That's it."
"But it looks... fascinating" he said, eyes still glued to the necklace like it was calling to him or something. "What's it for?"
I rolled my eyes, barely holding back a groan.
This kid is really about to make me clock out early today.
"You can see it's a necklace, right?"
"Yeah... but an ancient one."
"Correct."
"I mean, look here—it says it's a thousand years old."
"Yes," I said flatly. "Very good reading skills. Now, can we move along?"
He hesitated. "But it's just... so cool."
"Cool will get your ass cursed in this place," I muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Come on, this way." I pointed toward the other side of the shop, the far back section where the shelves groaned under the weight of dusty tomes and old first editions. "Books are over there. Pick one, read one, even sniff the pages if that's your thing. Just don't touch the antiques."
He nodded reluctantly and followed, but kept glancing back at the necklace like it was whispering secrets to him.
I glanced at it too. The necklace was silver, blackened in some parts with age. Its pendant was shaped like an eye—creepy as hell—and in the center was a tiny red gem that pulsed faintly whenever the light hit it just right.
I always thought he was exaggerating. Grandpa
But sometimes... when the store got quiet... I'd swear I could feel something watching me too.
I shivered, shaking the thought off.
"Katrina," I muttered to myself. "You need coffee. And maybe therapy."